The weekend revolved around church. First, I went to the women's Bible study Saturday morning. Then, on Sunday, not only did I play for two services, but I also "was" Martin Luther for the Adult Forum/Sunday School. We are going to be studying Luther's Large Catechism, but right now we're reading (that is, acting) a book called My Conversations with Martin Luther, by Timothy Lull. Dr. Lull, who is the president of Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary in Berkeley, Calif., presents five dialogues between Luther and himself in which they discuss Luther's theology, some of the controversial positions he took, the state of the Lutheran church today almost 500 years after Luther, etc. It's a fun way to learn about Luther and to try to imagine what he might think of the church that bears his name today in a very different time than in which he lived. Anyway, I got elected to be Luther, so I dressed up in a long brown robe and hat and read the Luther part of the dialogue. The conversations, although presented with a light-hearted touch, are quite profound.

Last night, I decided I wanted to make golden fudge. It is well over 20 years since I last made it. I was babysitting my sister, who was two or three years old at the time. As I poured out the boiling sugar mixture onto a tray to set, she reached up to grab it. I yelled at her not to touch it, but, of course, she didn't listen to me and grabbed a handful of hot fudge. Her whole palm blistered, and she screamed for at least an hour until my parents arrived home. Moral of the story: never make hot fudge around small children, especially if you have low counters. I'm happy to report that the fudgemaking last night was tragedy free.

At work today, we celebrated the birthday of one of my colleagues by having a lunch at an excellent Italian restaurant. I ordered the dish I order every time I go there, tortellini stuffed with squash filling.