So what I've been reading lately is Billy Graham's autobiography, Just As I Am. It's a simply written book, like all his books I think, but for the most part has held my interest. He tells some quite fascinating stories about famous people he's known, such as various Presidents.

Example: He and his buddy and associate, Grady Wilson, were visiting Lyndon Johnson at the ranch. Billy and Grady were sleeping in the same room and he awoke to the sound of tremendous snoring that "shook the house." Graham threw his pillow at Wilson and said, "Grady, shut up and turn over," and Grady said, "I've been trying to sleep myself." Turned out the incredible snoring was coming from just below them where the President slept.

No shocking revelations, but pretty interesting nonetheless.

The book's a quieting read, I find, because you feel you're in the hands of a good man without guile or meanness. Sort of like sitting on the front porch with your good ol' Grandpa, listening to him tell about his amazing life.

So today I cut the grass again and actually felt hot in the sun. I actually sweated; it actually felt like summer. ("Summer?! Ah yes, I forgot. It's supposed to be warm, isn't it?" Forgetting what real summer feels like has been the effect of living in Calgary this year.)