I’m excited this morning to welcome my friend Nancy Franson — you know, of the Connecticut Fransons. She’s one of the few women tall enough to look me in the eye but not scare me out of my wits. She’s funny, she’s brilliant, she married into good Swedish stock and she wears a pink feather boa at every opportunity. Three out of four really isn’t just too bad. When she’s not playing Lucy to her good friend Ethel, you can find her writing about faith and life (redundant?) over at Out of My Alleged Mind. Give Nancy a big welcome, and then, if you need to eat some fruit or something, swing on over to her place. (Just read. It’ll make sense soon enough.)
When mechanical clocks began to spring up in town squares across Europe,
the line between keeping time and keeping control blurred further.
Carl Honore, cited in Adele Ahlberg Calhoun’s Invitations from God
Guest post by Paul Willingham
It has been almost a year since my wife and I returned from an extended vacation on the West Coast, traveling by AMTRAK, Enterprise Rental and US Air, visiting with family and friends along the way. Our return to Minnesota on the first Saturday in November required us to set our watches back to Central Time Zone. Later that same evening we took part in that annual fall ritual of resetting our clocks back to Central Standard Time.
Each year in early November, most Americans reset their clocks, either before bedtime on Saturday night or early Sunday morning when they arise for the day. I doubt if very many stay up until the official government mandated witching hour of 2:00 am to reset their clocks. Cell phones and computers fortunately reset automatically.