Last night, I noticed a primordial-looking thing crawling across the floor of my home office. The cats weren't interested, even after I let out a little eek and announced, "Bug!"
In a moment of crypto-Franciscan fervor, I gently scooped the thing up and transported it to the great outdoors -- my front stoop. Now I'm kicking myself big time. Clearly, I was not listening to the still small voice crying out in the suburbs.
What was I thinking? I could have celebrated the second week of Advent and honored John the Baptist by eating it with wild honey for breakfast.
