I've got nothing.

No, not literally nothing. It's just that my mind is a blank right now on what I could write here.

Stream of consciousness coming next:

• My dear friend Beth's father, whom I consider a good friend as well, is of Irish heritage, makes bad jokes and has a loud and infectious laugh. Like me, he is a Cubs fan. He is a great guy with whom to have a beer. But I'm writing about him now because he goes for dialysis several times a week for several hours at a time and desperately needs a kidney transplant, but so far has not been able to find a match. He is in the Chicago area, but a donation could come from anywhere. If you have a spare kidney and are interested in doing something that would make him, his wife, his two kids and his two grandchildren deliriously happy and relieved, please let me know and I'll get you the details to figure out if your kidney could be an option for him.
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• On a much less important note, this West Coast swing that the Cubs are on is killing me . . . they don't play until 9:10 p.m. each day, which means the games do not end until Midnight (unless Greg Maddux is pitching)--at least this won't be a problem during their series against the San Diego Padres in early May, because I will actually attend that series in person.
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• For once, I am proud of my home improvement skills . . . my downstairs half bath had been locked for several days due to an odd doorknob-falling-out incident, and I feared a professional would have to be called in to remedy the situation . . . then, much to my surprise and that of all who know me, I managed to pull that doorknob back from the abyss, using nothing but a flat head screwdriver and averting the embarrassment of yet another repairman wondering how I can possibly make a living for myself in the real world.
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• I think I have developed a deeply sublimated psychological aversion to working out . . . I was excited to go ride my bike at the lake on Sunday morning and inflated my back tire before leaving . . . but the tire pump somehow became stuck on the little prong on the tire and when I yanked it away, I must have created a hole in the tire, because it began leaking air immediately and now is flat as a pancake. I did go for a walk with my friend Sandy, which was both fun and healthy, but I wish I could also have gone on the bike ride, as I was planning to take some photos of the people whiling away Easter morning around the lake.
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• I was reminded several times yesterday of the attitudes of those around me that make me want to leave private law practice for a civil rights job and/or to leave Texas for a bluer state. One such incident involved a colleague who mysteriously received a copy of the Qu'ran at the office. He emailed around to see if he was the only one to receive this in his mail; he was. I was curious about the book and why he received it and stopped by to ask about it. He said he thought it might have been because he had recently bought a small, softcover, barely readable version of the book on Ebay; he assumes the seller provided his information to the Council on Islamic Affairs, which sent him a lovely, thick, bound and illustrated hardcover version of the book. Thinking he was interested in issues of concern to Muslims, I excitedly told him about my plan to volunteer as an attorney for Muslims being questioned by the F.B.I. in "informational interviews" due to the F.B.I.'s racial profiling of Muslims post-9/11. My balloon of excitement quickly deflated, however, when he explained, "I ordered it because we're comparing it to the Bible; while the Bible is a historical text written by people who were actually there, the Qu'ran is not, and the way it is written helps you understand the craziness of the people who follow it." Ah, well.