By the time I get to San Francisco I'm happy to be home despite not being able to get the three fat girls who were sitting at the hotel bar the night before last drinking beer and saying, "O my God" to anything and everything that was said to them, out of my mind. As vapid as these three girls seemed to be, each raised interesting questions: do people who say, "O my God" repeatedly actually believe in God? Is the invocation to God a valid way of making God real?
My guess is that all three girls are Christian, but in some sort of haphazard way.
But now it's time to unpack, count my many blessings, so many they can't be counted on two hands, and get to work, as there's so much to be done.