reely cain't type

Tonight is Go-To-Jesus job night, and I've been wrestling with an Easter letter for hours. The bulletins are done, folded, sorted, ready for pick-up, and it's just me and the ancient computer with brokken spill chk. I just thought I was doing a tremendous job typing - glanced it over quickly, tossed it in the copier, and whizz-bang, 129 copies of an Easter letter that starts out:

With the cold and dark of winter behind us, our thoughts turn to Spring. Did you see the robins, the early crocus, the pussy lows? All are signs of new life. (I'm really thinking the church elders aren't trolling for dates here.)

and continues on the next paragraph:

Eater is a time of new lifeandbeginnings (Eater likesrunonwords, too. Good boy, Eater! Go haveacookie.) a time when we can worshop and pray together and let the massage of the new life in Christ touch our souls.
(A spa day! First we worshop, then we get massaged!)
I'm sure the neighbors wonder why the crazy lady roars with laughter over her work sometimes.

Think they need a massage?