Today was officially the last Sunday I will spend in Central Wisconsin for a long while, and I'm not precisely sure how I feel about this fact. However, it appears that my feelings don't really factor into the equation at the moment, because plans have been laid, and Lord willing, aforementioned plans shall be executed in due fashion, meaning that Thea and Assorted Junk will be moving out of Beaty House and into Possibly Messy Dorm Room in rather short order...Liberty U, here we come.

This afternoon, however, as part of the home-leaving grieving process otherwise known as "bemoaning this rather soon departure in the company of friends," I found myself sitting at a corner table in Wausau's illustrious King Buffet, eating soggy sushi and lovely white rice in the company of two friendly little Mexican dudes. One of them was moodily informing me that he would be so depressed after I left that he would probably kill himself...to which I replied that that would be a tragic and rather pointless waste of his perfectly good life, and that I could think of better things to die about...although I'm not sure how well that last point translated into Spanish. Oscar looked slightly mystified after I said it, but he didn't say anything in reply.

Instead, he looked down at his plate for a second just to make sure the lamb chops hadn't suddenly come to life, and then he leaned over and whispered,

"Thea, ¿sabes quien es San Pedro?" (Do you know who Saint Peter is?)

I looked at him blankly. "Sabes quien es San Pedro? ¿Qué clase de pregunta es esto? Um, yo sé que él está considerado ser un santo..." (What kind of a question is that? I know he's considered to be a saint...?)

He winked, and nodded towards the other side of the room.

"He's sitting right over there," he hissed to me in rapid Spanish.

I looked where Oscar had indicated with one eyebrow, and saw a veritable old sage of a chap with a long flowing gray beard and vacant light blue eyes, picking absent-mindedly at his sesame chicken and dribbling egg-drop soup down his whiskers as he conversed thoughtfully with his female companion.

"Oh my word, Oscar," I thought to myself, "I do believe you're right...we've found Saint Peter."

The waitress couldn't for the life of her figure out what we found so funny...

I think we all came home feeling full of soggy sushi...and vastly more socially well-rounded.