I believe each day in Holy Week has an archetypal character. It seems entirely appropriate to break bread with friends on Maundy Thursday, and that's what we were invited to do.
For our dinner with these old, dear friends we arrived early (not my fault!) and left late, having savoured every mouthful of an asian-style meal, been enchanted and delighted by their newly, aesthetically pleasing, custom-built castle, and come into close conversation in front of a warming fire.
I drank no wine. "Coffee?" suggested our hostess. I succombed. And then arose a small dilemmma. "Espresso or organic?" she asked. Now, crunchy granola is my eating conviction -- hey, I have a great recipe -- but I know espresso is less worse for the heart. The latter's what I went with, and delicious it was.
So we make choices, from the trivial to the significant.
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