The Results Of The Hospitality Group

So what happened with the hospitality group that Chuck started? Short answer: it finished. We went for three weeks and thought about what hospitality means, is TCC hospitable, and how it can be improved. I'll spare the details of what was discussed, but the recommendation to the church cabinet is going to be to form a new Hospitality Committee that is responsible to making TCC more inviting and hospitable.

I hate to say it, but this recommendation was almost a foregone conclusion. Not because of the context of church, but the context of organizations and the politics thereof. It seems to be the standard answer to any problem in an organization: form another layer of bureaucracy to take care of the problem. That was NASA's response to the Challenger accident. That is often the recommendation of the president or Congress to national problems. Let's just form another committee or group or board or blue ribbon commission or what have you to take care of the problem.

Will it help in this case? If and only if they find two people who are committed to making things happen. That can and should be read as: not me. I am not the person to head this committee or even sit on it. I hate to say it, but I'm more of an idea man. I can identify a problem and offer a solution (or several solutions), but when it comes to the everyday grind of making something like this happen, I should not be the goto guy. I am by my very nature shy and introverted, almost to the point of non-friendliness. It takes a special lot to be my friend, and often "normal" people are put off by my style, but I digress.

In my personal estimation, this hospitality thing is putting the cart before the horse. Sure, you want to be hospitable to whoever comes through your doors, but you have to get people to come through your doors. Why do I want to come to your church? That's the primary question that I've been asking as part of this project. Why did I join this church formally? To solve a perceived credibility problem that Yizong might have. Should I have joined it formally? I don't know. Do I want to keep coming to this church? That's a subject for another post.

Organs Of The Church - Why I Didn't Go Today

I didn't go to church today. I just couldn't bring myself to go. I'm tired and fatigued. Taking stock of things last night didn't help. I'm tired of going to a church that has nothing for me. I'm tired of going to a church where all I can do is give. At RCC I was not a person--I was a resource to be used by the church. I was the producer; RCC was the consumer. That worked quite well for RCC, but it destroyed me. And I left.

Now I'm at TCC. I don't know if they think of me as a resource, but in my estimation, I will become one if I stay. TCC needs help, and lots of it. They need resources and many of them. They need people in the worst way possible. But they don't have any established ministries, least of all for single adults. Therefore, as far as I'm concerned, they don't offer anything for me.

Wait! Stop! That's not the right attitude! I can already hear the arguments for why I should keep going. Fine. Here's my counter argument: The church is a body, and the body has certain organs that carry out certain tasks. Consider the human body. The liver filters the blood. The heart pumps it. The eyes see. The ears hear. The skin protects the internals from harm. Pretty much everyone I explain this to agrees.

Here's where the rubber meets the road for me, the flip side of the argument if you will. Each organ in the body is fed. The brain, liver, eyes, ears, etc. are all supplied by blood. Even the heart is supplied with blood. When an organ is no longer supplied with its essentials, bad things happen. If the liver doesn't get fed, it stops filtering the blood, and eventually the body dies of poisons built up in the blood. If the lungs aren't fed, they can't take in oxygen, and the body dies of suffocation. If the heart stops getting its supply of blood, you have a heart attack. Get the drift?

In my case, I became a big organ at RCC, and I didn't get fed. RCC was reaping all the benefits of my labors and producing nothing in return for me. Relationships have to be two-way affairs, even physical ones like organs in the body, and when they are not, bad things happen. Are heart attacks and liver failures survivable? Sometimes, but the organ, if it's salvageable, is never the same and usually never as effective.

Applying this principle to church members, when a person goes to a church for some time and gets very involved, that person had better be getting something in return for their efforts, otherwise they will get burned out and become cynical and hollowed. What the return is varies from person to person, but each and every person who contributes to the church needs something in return. It's not a psychological concept or even a spiritual one--it's simply a fact of life.

So where does that leave me? I'll provide TCC what I can in an advisory capacity, but I think that my search has to continue. I guess you, whoever you are who are reading (or not reading, as I think the case probably is), this blog, can look forward to some more church reviews as I continue my search.

A Rebel Am I?

I've asked myself quite often whether or not my behavior is proper for some of the things I do. What I'm considering this time is the concept of singing the word to one song in place of another. There is a song in The Sound of Music called "Edelweiss." I've come to learn that, aside from it being a beautiful song written for a musical, it has no other intrinsic meaning to Austria, Europe or anyone else.

The tune that goes to "Edelweiss" has been reused for church, and the words have been changed to a benedictory selection. For the past few Sundays, it has been played at the end of each service, and the audience has been faithfully singing it with its intended church lyrics. Except for me. I'm the yahoo in the back of the auditorium singing "Edelweiss, edelweiss," while the rest of the church sings "May the Lord, mighty God."

For some odd reason, I take particularly twisted and perverse pleasure in singing the original lyrics. Why? I don't know. Normally I'd take the opposite stance. After all, I am a devotee of Weird Al Yankovic, so as a matter of course I sing parodied lyrics to all the songs I recognize that he has done instead of the original lyrics. Yet here I am singing the original lyrics to a tune that has been adopted and pressed into service for religious means.

I feel only slightly guilty for doing so, and I mean only slightly. The song, after all, was not meant for religious purposes, and I find it truly amusing to use it for its intended purposes. The question I struggle with, and why I struggle with it is probably dumb, but is it wrong to sing "Edelweiss" to the tune of "Edelweiss"?

After last Sunday it may be a moot point. After I confessed to a couple of people what I was singing, that particular song was pulled from the service. How dumb is it that I would even stress over that???

Time To Take Stock

Ok, time to look at where I am, where I've been and where I'm going:

As of right now, I am currently a member of a church that has, for all practical purposes and intents, just formed. They currently have no established ministries or programs. They're still figuring out their identity (which they've been trying to do for approximately two years). There are no people in my age range or circumstances at this church, which means that I am once again a constituency of one. Somehow, this sounds oddly familiar.

And that's because at the last church where I was a member, I was a constituency of one. My experience at that church did not turn out well. Why? That particular church was run my a social organization that was exclusive, that did not want outsiders interfering in their affairs, that did not care one whit about religion--only their social club which they called a church. I tried to integrate myself into that organization, but because I was an outsider and apolitical for their tastes, I was ostracized.

So is there a difference between my last church and this one? I think there is. This church realizes that it has to do something to survive. They are not nearly as hung up on trifles and minutiae as my previous church. They are not afraid to move forward. Or are they? TCC was formed by two dying congregations about two or three years ago. They formed one congregation, sold both old churches' old facilities, and got into new digs. All good things, except, now that they have taken these steps, they don't seem to know where they are going.

TCC took a step forward, but they have to take another one if they are to survive. I think they realize this, but I don't think they know what that step is. More to the point, I think they are looking past the first step they need to take to the one they want to take. There are some intermediate steps that they need to make before they can really move forward, and I think this church may have gotten into analysis paralysis. That is: everybody recognizes that there is a problem, but they don't know what the problem is, or, in this case, what the direction should be.

Assuming that they do figure out a direction, it is by no means one that will be to my needs or desires, and even assuming that it is, it may take months or years to implement, and even assuming that it is successful, there is no guarantee that I'll find what I'm looking for.

Am I better off than I was at RCC? Probably, but not by much. Should I continue with this church or continue the search? What do you think?

Mini-Vacations

I've kinda disappeared for the last few weeks, but I've been anything but idle. Three weeks ago work was an unqualified disaster in my life, and I was just coasting along. My life consisted of going to work, going home, sometimes church on Sunday, and nearly every weekend going to Roanoke to hang out with Herman and Jen.

I love hanging with H and J. We've become family, the three of us. I feel like we can all trust each other implicitly and without question. Every time I go up to their house, it's like I get to leave behind my life and be part of my family. I've helped them paint their house, transport stuff from stores to their house for some of their projects, helped them put in a flower bed, even went with them to court to lend my support as they have been trying to gain custody of H's kids.

Going up there lets me escape and disregard the responsibilities of everyday living. I don't have to deal with my cats or my yard, or bills, or anything, really. I just get to be around people that I love and love me. They want to be around me and I with them. I guess another way to say it is: when I'm with H and J, I'm not lonely.

Well, almost not lonely. Sometimes I feel the loneliest when I'm around them. H and J have a great relationship! It's something that I want badly. I thought Monica and I would have that kind of relationship, but Monica never wanted that kind of situation. I finally realized that I was merely an accessory to her life--immediately replaceable and meant to be customizable. She didn't want me; she wanted her ex-fiance. And she definitely didn't want what H and J have. She told me that once, and I dismissed it as something she was afraid of at that time. She might be, and she might get it eventually, but she definitely didn't want it with me.

I want that kind of relationship, and when I'm around H and J, sometimes it puts a magnifying glass on that part of my life that is currently empty. In fact last weekend I became a little quieter than normal. Herman asked me what was wrong. Nothing, I replied. I was just reminiscing about Monica. Did I miss her, he asked? No, I said, I missed having someone who wanted me, who wanted to be around me, who was happy when I came around. Bro, he said, that's entirely normal, and it's definitely a great feeling. He's right, but I'm not desperate enough to put myself in a position where I can't be myself again.

It's when I leave Roanoke and reenter my normal life that I really feel down. It means that I have to go back and fulfill my responsibilities, take care of my cats, my bills, my house, and think about work all over again. But, more than that, I go back to being alone. That, combined with a tenuous workplace situation and an even more tenuous financial situation, makes it virtually impossible for me to comfortably (read, with a clear conscience) look for my significant other. Why can't it be easy???

CRASH!!!

Wow! This last week has been the longest I've been at work for several years. I pulled 66 hours this week. My life was work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep... I didn't realize until today how worn down I was. Yizong and I were sitting at a Starbucks hatching plans for a new ministry, and I couldn't stop yawning. When we left it took some special effort to move and get back to the car and go home. There hasn't been time for me to so much as breath this week, and tonight it finally caught up with me. I couldn't do anything but sit on the sofa and watch TV. I hope I can pull it together tomorrow--I've got things to do!

Photography Class 3

Yizong's brilliant idea of having a photography class has been abortive at best. The first class had three people in it. The second, which was a rehash of the first, had a lot more. This class, though, had a grand total of two people. Neither of the two kids that showed up had been at the first two classes, but Yizong wanted this to be a practical session.

It was to be practical to the point of the Lynn, the senior minister, making general requests of subjects to use for our outing. Yizong and I didn't have any problem with Lynn's request. He wanted some more metaphysically thought photos. His subject was living water, and he wanted pictures of community. Before we even left the church, I was taking some candids of our two kids just in case we didn't get any later. That turned out to be a good decision.

Yizong decided to go to downtown Fort Worth to get some pictures. So we loaded up the two kids and ourselves in the church van and took off. We decided to go to the old public market building. There were absolutely no people as the building is abandoned, but it is a pretty building, and we got some good pictures there, one or two of which I thought might fill Lynn's bill. After that the two kids decided they wanted to go to the train yards and get pictures there.

Almost immediately after we entered the train yards, I fell and cut my hand on a railroad rail. My experience up to this point has been that rails are smooth on top. Not so here. I cut open my thumb pretty good and had a nice cut over my palm just below my fingers. Ah well, I've suffered worse. I made jokes the entire time about real photographers having to bleed on their lenses before they could consider themselves real photographers.

We got some awesome shots in the yard. I grabbed a few of one of the kids walking on the rail with different points of focus. Some weren't all that good, but that's the way of things. We pretty much called it quits after that, not finding any good places with people. Some of the kids' photos were ok, but it all turned out to be moot. Last Sunday Lynn didn't use any of them. He expressed his dissatisfaction by saying that he like the pictures, especially stylistically, but that very few would fit his subject. Ah well, no matter.

I think this photography class is on the rocks. We've had three classes now. We never have the same kids show up to the classes. We had three the first time, a whole room-full the second, and only two the third. The kids claim that they want a photography class, but they really don't want to be there for that. They just want a place to be that's not home or school where they can be with their friends. I'm not sure carrying the class further would do anything for anybody except frustrate Yizong and me. We've covered the basics of composition, the rule of thirds, leading lines, and perspective. Lighting would be next, then exposure and focal length. That's where these kids would rapidly loose interest, especially as none of them have a camera that's anywhere good enough to change any settings to drive really drive the camera. Yizong has cancelled class for the next two or three Sundays, and I think it's a tossup whether or not we'll continue. My knee-jerk reaction is to kill it and cut our losses, but one never knows.

How To Be Hospitable

Four weeks ago, TCC formed a group to look at the hospitality of guests (sometimes read visitors) at the church. My former pastor is leading the group, and he wanted me there to provide some perspective not only as a new member, but also as a person who sees things from a different perspective. I was excited and apprehensive to pursue this opportunity. Excited as this blog could finally be put to some use, but also apprehensive because my first visit to TCC left a lot to be desired, at least for me.

After the first week it was the group that left a lot to be desired. Chuck started in by focusing on what the church does well. I suppose there is room for that, and maybe that's the best way to start this kind of introspection, but I'm always apprehensive when a study starts out by stroking someone's or something's ego. I nearly left it after the first session.

Indeed, I had resolve to simply hand my notes over prior to the second session, but Chuck called the group off the second week due to his being sick. That gave me another week to consider whether or not I would stay on this group. On further consideration, I deemed it better to stay in and take my lumps.

Last week I dealt the lumps. We did a little review and talked about first impressions. After two thirds of an hour, Chuck asked me to read my notes from my visit to TCC. Not wanting to spread too much disharmony and discord, I offered to just hit the highlights, but someone asked me to read them verbatim. I did so. (The notes in question were the blog entry for July 11, 2010.) I read it with as little emotion as I could so as not to present the wrong impression.

After I was done, there was total silence in the room for a few moments. To say it was a pregnant pause wouldn't do it justice. A couple of people kinda held their breaths. I wasn't at all sure what the next step would be. Bonnie was assimilating the info. Bea, I think, was assimilating the info but relieved that I hadn't noticed her perceived peccadillo. Maria wasn't sure what to say, but I couldn't really read her. Gayle was, of the people there, the most shocked at what I had to say. For the rest of the meeting she didn't say much, and it's quite possible she didn't say anything at all.

Eventually, after a few heartbeats, Chuck picked things up and asked me why I came back. I answered truthfully and with one word: Yizong. Chuck was gracious to concentrate on that preexisting relationship, but I suspect that the feeling in the room was that, had Yizong not been there, I surely would not. That would be a correct assumption, and not necessarily one that won't come to pass.

After the meeting, Bonnie wanted to know why I wasn't comfortable with TCC. Over the next hour, I recounted the tale of RCC, Chuck's involvement, my history and involvement, and the circumstances that lead to my departure. I explained the search that I had embarked on, some of the history and background of the project leading up to my decision to land, at least temporarily, at TCC. I was frank to the point of brutal in my reasoning for joining the church, and Bonnie quite correctly pointed out that, if indeed my intention was to find a singles group and a mate, then TCC might not be the place for me.

Too true, but we'll see. There is another meeting of this hospitality group tonight. I'll be there, but not nearly as prepared as I'd like. This morning I didn't make it to church, so I didn't really have the chance to observe everything I wanted. I'll try to observe as much as I can and recount the rest to be complete for tonight's discussion.

Should I consider taking the project forward and exploring new churches? I'm beginning to think that I should. Yizong's photography class is dying fast and hard, and I don't really see any ministry that could minister to me. Bonnie sees me as a challenge, both in hospitality as well as ability. I think she identifies me as someone who needs a special kind of care and feeding. Whether she has come to that realization or not, that assessment is quite correct. I'm not the average bear when it comes to interaction and background, and several churches have learned that the hard way.

Where will I end up???

Ash Wednesday - First Day Of Lent 2011

Having been raised Southern Baptist, such traditions as Fat Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, and Lent were not observed. Several years ago I joined a Disciples of Christ church, and I found that the DOC denomination does observe the Liturgical Calendar. I don't see any problem with observing such things as long as the primary focus is where it should be--on Christ.

Lent lasts about forty days. As I understand it, the 40 day length is in commemoration of Christ's preparation for his ministry--the temptation in the desert. As such, the tradition is that those who observe it are to give up something in a similar manner as Christ. Some give up shopping, or drinking, or smoking, or wearing certain clothes. One year a girl I knew gave up meat. This year I am endeavoring to give up solid food.

Giving up solid food for 46 days (Lent lasts 46 days this year) is no mean feat. I've never given up solid food for that length of time. I have given it up for about three weeks. That was after I had my gastric bypass surgery. Indeed, it is because of my surgery that I'm giving up solid food. I've gained some weight back because I started eating badly again and stopped exercising. So my decision isn't completely altruistic or religious. It is partially that, but in large part pragmatic. I simply have got to start losing the weight again. I just wish I could lose the appetite and the desire for food. As often happens, I make a resolution, and something immediately comes to test it. That happened this afternoon at work. One of our groups had lunch leftovers: lasagna and bread from a restaurant I love. As hard as it was, I abstained. But I thought of it all the way to church.

This was the first time I've made it to church on a Wednesday night in several years, maybe even as much as twenty years. It was my first Ash Wednesday service ever. TCC wasn't offering a service per se. The sanctuary was open for prayer and meditation. The youth, on the other hand, had their own Ash Wednesday service. Yizong burned up some grass and mixed it with oil for the forehead marking. There was a lot of modern praise and worship music. Shelby, our resident high school senior, gave some testimony about her past. The rest of the group took it respectfully and well, and I am glad. I thought it would not be well received. I declined to be marked when that part of the service was performed. (I believe it to go against the principle set forth in Matthew 6:16-17.)

After the service there was some general fellowship for the youth. I say fellowship, but in the context of this youth group, it means hanging out. There were some announcements and plans that were attempted to be made, but the kids at this point, weren't listening and didn't care about anything other than hanging out. Several people got pretty frustrated at that behavior. Loryn, one of the youth, had an activity planned, but it was abortive getting it started, and nobody really listened to her once it was started. Poor Yizong got frustrated enough to yell at them a little. There was a little shock, but I think it was good for them.

For once in several months, I was home before ten at night. Day 1 of 46 down, 45 more to go.

Photography Class 1a

Sunday saw Yizong and I teach our next photography class. Or rather, reteach the first class. With so many people not there we felt it would be better to go over all the previous material if we had more people. This time we definitely had more people.

The class went much as the first one did, especially with Yizong trying to be professor. He didn't engage in it as much this time around, which was good, but he still has the professorial leanings. I did more talking this time around, and I also put in some of my own pictures to help explain things. We covered all the topics previously, then I covered leading lines and some additional perspective items.

What struck me this time around was the immaturity and undisciplinedness of the kids. We had everything in there from a 12 year old to a high school senior. It was a tossup who was more undisciplined, the 12yo or the senior. Shelby, the senior, was seemed more interested in twitting Yizong for his heavily-accented English than paying attention to what was being talked about. She stopped once I started talking. Two others, Selena and Travis, were far more interested in texting or doing something else on their cell phones. I'm sure Selena didn't care one whit about anything that was being said. It was a constant battle to keep everyone's attention, and after a time, it was a drag. There was constant talking, twittering, noise, and side discussions all over the place. How do we overcome that? Do we overcome that? One thing is for sure, these kids definitely aren't Ridglea kids.

Death Comes Unexpectedly!

Every once in awhile, I hear something that bears repeating. What follows came from the movie Pollyanna. I don't know if this is a real sermon or not. All I can say is, if it's not, it ought to be. If you want to see it delivered by the immortal Karl Malden, then click here for the video. I absolutely love this sermon! Here it is, written out:

"Death comes unexpectedly! And the God, Jehovah, will execute his vengeance on ye who despise his undying love and trample his benefits underfoot. The unconverted soul, the foolish children of man do miserably delude themselves in the false confidence of their own strength and wisdom. They trust to nothing but a shadow. But bear testament. Death comes unexpectedly!

"Now, you say, ah, no, I had not intended it to come now. I had laid out matters otherwise. I thought my scheme good. I intended to take effectual care, but death came unexpectedly like a thief, outwitting me, too quick for me. Oh, cursed foolishness that I had flattered and pleased myself with vain dreams of repentance. But sudden destruction caught me up.

"And now He will deal with you. Now the great King of Heaven and Earth will abolish and annihilate this pride! Will crush the hardened wretch of the polluted infinite abomination, and rain on him a deluge of fire and brimstone! And where is their strength, then? Where are the great leviathans who defied God then? Where is their courage, these proud spirits? Yes... Death comes unexpectedly.

"And the Dread Judge has the key of Hell. He shuts... and no man opens. In Hell you will be reserved in chains of darkness forever and ever. This place of atonement, of damned souls and misery, with nothing to relieve you, no comfort, no water for your parched tongues, no place to rest or take a breath, but the everlasting, infinite convulsions of misery, forever! And ever and ever!

"Now Isaiah has warned us, on the day of vengeance, the earth shall be laid to waste. And the cormorant and the bittern shall possess the land. The raven and the screech owl shall dwell in it. And who is man to think he can withstand God's mighty wrath? Great mountains cannot stand before this wrath. Yea, he can lay the earth to pieces in one moment or shatter the whole universe with one stroke of his fiery sword! How dreadful is the state of those who are in daily danger of this great wrath, this abyss of death and despair.

"Yet, this is the dismal case of every soul in this congregation who has not been born again, however moral or strict, sober and religious you may otherwise be. There is no security for the wicked because there are no visible signs of death at hand! Unconverted men walk over the pit of hell on a rotten covering. And there are innumerable places on this covering so weak they will not bear their weight. And these places cannot be seen. The arrows of death fly unseen as noonday. God has many different unsearchable ways of taking the wicked from this world.

"Who here in this congregation listening to this discourse will soon be visited by this covenant of darkness? There you are, siting there, calm in your knowledge of health, secure in your well-being. Yet who could suffer the agonies of the damned tomorrow? Yes, even today or maybe the next hour, the next minute. And if we were to know which of you it was, what an awful sight it would be. A soul doomed to the everlasting bottomless pit of a divine wrath! Yes, death comes unexpectedly! Amen."

- Reverend Ford, Pollyanna, 1960

Enduring Heartbreak

Today was one of the most heartbreaking days I think I've spent in quite some time. It was instructive, had new experiences, and turned out one of the worst results a person could possibly look forward to.

Herman and Jennifer went to court today to try to wrest custody of Herman's children from his first marriage from his wife. I went as their friend and supporter. I've been working with them all week, preparing their house for their kids. It's been a long week, and the anticipation was quite high. H and J's lawyer all but assured them victory in court, so I'm told. So confident are they of getting their children that they remodeled five out of six rooms of the upstairs of their house. It started last weekend with three days of solid work, and continued with work every night throughout the week to get their house ready. I went up last weekend and stayed with them a couple of days to help move furniture, paint and clean. Later in the week I spent two more nights up with them getting the last of the work done. Thursday night we finished. We were tired, but happy, and looking forward to Friday.

We woke up early on Friday and dressed in our good clothes for court. We picked up some pictures that H and J planned on using for court and proceeded to their lawyer's office. This was the first time I'd every been to a law office. Having seen lots of movies and TV shows, I was thinking the offices would be posh, maybe even luxurious. But, as is usually the case, reality is often much less glamorous. The offices were in a sort of strip mall, and the offices themselves were functional, yet very spartan. We were shown into an assistant's office where we had a pre-hearing discussion. We were shortly called over to the courthouse for the hearing.

We crossed the street to the courthouse, and I was turned away at the metal detectors. Apparently multi-tools and pocket knives are evil and disallowed in court. I love the way society feels that one weapon is any worse than another. It makes me feel like I live in the UK. But, to be expedient, I recrossed the street, handed over my tools to the assistant, and reentered the courthouse. Security was no problem this time, and I made my way to the elevator.

To say the next hour was bizarre doesn't do it justice. When I went up the elevator, I was sharing it with Herman's ex-wife, the respondent in today's case. That felt ultra-weird. After we emerged, they went one way and I went the other. (I wonder if they recognized me. I'm almost sure they did.) Down the hall were Herman, Jen, and their lawyer. The lawyer behaved very much like what I expected. Not quite what I saw on TV, but fairly close. After some last minute discussion and prep work, we entered the courtroom.

The courtroom itself was modern. There were three or four rows of what amounted to church pews without the holders for hymnals. The room was nicely decorated. The judge sat in the right-hand corner of the room as you face the courtroom. Each table had a microphone. The court reporter sat to the judge's right. The witness box was on the left of the judge and had a microphone also. To the left of the witness box was the bailiff. There were computer monitors in front of the judge, the court reporter, and the bailiff. The bailiff was wearing a brown shirt, dark pants, and was carrying what appeared to be a 1911 on his right side. The judge was woman, and was wearing the traditional black robe, exactly as expected.

What I didn't expect was the apparent looseness of the docket schedule. I didn't hear our case called. That's because it was called as soon as the previous case had finished. We were scheduled at 11am, but we were good to go as soon as the lawyers had set up. Our side set up and was ready first. The judge asked if the respondent had been notified as they were not there. They had, they were just running half a minute late. Our lawyer conferred with the ex-wife's lawyer for a time, then we were off and running.

Over the next half hour, I saw what had been acted out on TV hundreds of times. Lawyers called witnesses. Questions were asked. Testimony was given. The only thing I didn't expect was how witnesses would be sworn in. All witnesses were asked by the judge to rise and raise their right hands, and then she swore them all in at the same time. After the swearing, each was instructed to come forward and give their names to the court reporter. That done, the judge instructed all witnesses to leave the courtroom and wait until called. I was not a witness, so I could observe the entire proceeding. First Herman was called. Then Jennifer. Then we rested. Then the ex-wife was called. Finally, her lawyer testified as to what his expenses were. I don't feel it my duty or privilege to rehash everything that was said. The upshots were: the custody agreement was not changed, the ex-wife was instructed not to smoke around her kids, the place to exchange the kids was changed to a "more neutral" location, and Herman and Jen were instructed to pay the ex-wife's lawyer's expenses. Jennifer was fighting back tears in the courtroom. Herman was thunderstruck--a look of total, uncomprehending shock on his face.

Our lawyer was certainly not expecting the outcome. Once we were clear of the court, he said as much. He offered what advice he could under the circumstances, but whether any of it was heard or understood is something I'm not sure of. We just sat in the car in the law office parking lot for a time after the lawyer bade is farewell. Jennifer was sobbing. Herman was upset and trying to think of anything he could do to reverse the course of events. I sat in the back seat, teary-eyed, but trying to be strong. Finally, after having made a few phone calls, we proceeded on our way, shaken and uncertain of what to do.

After some consultations, all I could do was take them to lunch then return to base. Nobody had eaten anything at all up to this point in the day, and it was nearly half past two in the afternoon when we finally took a moment to eat. H and J were absolutely beside themselves with worry and rage, grasping at any stray or crazy idea that presented itself. H's mother and her husband came, but all that happened was more pot-stirring. We left the restaurant emotionally drained and exhausted and drove quietly back to H and J's house in Roanoke. They promptly passed out for a few blessed minutes before they were to pick up their kids, and I did some reflecting.

What am I getting myself into, I wondered. Finding my significant other, my wife, has been a priority for some time now. I want it to be the right person: the one I'll spend the rest of my life with. This experience upped the pressure on me to get it right. I don't ever want to have to go through this. To lose my kids and have to fight for them. To see my kids stripped away from me by some stranger in a black robe. To be told I can only do certain things certain way and only on certain days by an impersonal, cold legal system. What am I getting myself into?

A Dish Fit For Judith Jones

Ok, last post from last weekend. This one covers cooking dinner. I had been planning on trying Boeuf Bourguignon for some time. I confess, it was because I wanted to see if I could cook it like it was cooked in the movie Julie & Julia. It was a true experience! One that I will savor for a long time!

Truth be told, the length of time it took to properly prepare this dish is one of the things that I found exhilarating, instructive, and inconvenient all at the same time. This dish doesn't start with cooking. It starts by finding all the appropriate ingredients. I'm happy to say that I was able to find everything I needed for this dish from Walmart. From the chuck roast to the beef stock to the shallots and pearl onions, Walmart had it all. I hope that's a portent of things to come as I continue to explore Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

One thing I hope does improve is the cost. The total cost of cooking boeuf bourguignon is nearly prohibitive. I think I spent nearly $50 in ingredients. I ended up buying two chuck roasts to get the 3 lbs. of beef I needed. Then there was the wine, the vegetables, the spices, the broth, and one or two non-food items. Now, to be fair, some of that stuff I'll be able to use over and over like bay leaves and thyme, but at $2.50 a bottle for spices it was still expensive. I'm not even counting my lovely, new french oven, which was over $70 by itself, but it was completely worth it!

And so was cooking this dish. All the time, the money, the experience... Let me talk about the time a little bit more. Once I had all the ingredients in hand, it was about a five hour process. The first thing I had to do was clean the roast. Initially I had a three and a half pound chuck roast, but it had a bunch of junk that had to be cut off. My first chuck roast ended up being two and a half pounds. Bummer. I had to buy a new one to get the last bit of meat I needed, and of course I only needed about half a pound. Cleaning the roasts took a little time. All the white connective tissue and fat had to be removed. It would have ruined the stew otherwise. That took about half an hour to 45 minutes. I cleaned one before I went to church and subsequently to Roanoke.

Herein was the stumbling block to our glorious concoction. At this point in the timeline, I needed about four and three quarters more hours to finish. I should have opted to cook immediately instead of taking time to go shooting. As it was we took an hour and a half to indoctrinate H3 into the gun culture (which we did marvelously), so we didn't get cooking until 4:30 in the afternoon. Dinner occurred at 8:45 that night.

The next nearly five hours were glorious. I had at my disposal some of the best cookware made, superb ingredients, and some good assisting. I was moving around the kitchen, slicing vegetables, sauteing meat and vegetables, cutting, braising, slicing, in short cooking. Real cooking. A real dish. Jen, Misty, and eventually Herman peeled my pearl onions. That would have taken forever to do, so I'm glad they could do that. I made the lardons and sauteed the beef while they did that. Once the beef was done I sliced up the vegetables. It's amazing how just slanting a carrot by 45 degrees can make it look ten times better than just plain old boring roundels. I sauteed all that then roasted the beef in the oven a little. Having done that, I put in the wine and the beef stock.

Oh! What a smell there was in the kitchen when I put that wine in. The recipe calls for three cups. I put in a whole bottle, which is slightly over three cups. I must say, at this point, I was kinda questioning Julia. I've had wine before, and the thought of having a whole bottle in this dish was staggering. I think it was the smell that really made me question it. To say that it smelled winey doesn't do it justice. I could just imagine taking a bite and tasting nothing but wine--not my idea of a good dish. But, this is a place where a little faith in Julia is called for, so I pressed forward.

I might mention that it was at this point in the recipe that I made a little mistake. I put the wine and beef stock in the french oven, and put the whole thing in the oven. Trick is, I didn't put the vegetables in. I should have. The reason I didn't is because I failed to realize that Julia didn't specify using a skillet in this recipe. Everything was to be cooked in the french oven. I wasn't doing that, and I missed that step. As a result, our vegetables were al dente and not cooked all that well.

The rest of it was well cooked. Once the meat was simmering away in the oven (for two and a half hours) I did the supporting recipes. Boeuf Bourguignon calls for two supporting recipes in Mastering: sauteed mushrooms and pearl onions brown braised in beef stock. The mushrooms were easy enough. A little olive oil and butter, and they sauteed up in about ten minutes. I served a few to my waiting eaters to curb appetites. They were well received except by poor Jen (she doesn't like mushrooms). I set those aside and did the pearl onions next. All I can say about those is, oh, dear God! I sauteed them for ten minutes, then simmered them for forty minutes in beef stock. When they were done, they literally melted in your mouth! I couldn't wait for it all to come together.

But, waiting was all we could do at this point. I had all the vegetables done and ready to go, but the beef was still cooking in the oven. It was about another hour and a half before everything came together. Misty had to leave and put her baby to bed. Really wish she could have stayed, but we all knew Jacob had to go to sleep. We had hoped that Herman's kids could have stayed for dinner, but we kept having delays, and H's ex wouldn't hear of waiting for her kids. H and J ended up pulling out some pizza rolls and green beans to feed the kids quickly. They left about fifteen minutes before our stew was done.

Down to the three of us now, I pulled the stew out of the oven and simmered the sauce down a little. We were all anticipating the stew--it smelled like a little piece of heaven! When it came out and I was simmering it, I didn't detect any but a faint hint of wine. And once all the vegetables were put in, there was absolutely no problem whatsoever. We couldn't wait to eat!

And eat we did! Everything about that dish was wonderful! The meat was falling-apart tender. The pearl onions were delectable. The broth was a wonderful beefy-hint-of-winey flavor, and even though the vegetables weren't all the way done, they were still good. Jen liked it so much she was even eating the mushrooms, even though she can't usually stand them! At this point I should know never to doubt Julia. She was right about the biscuits I did, and she was right about this dish. Julia Child spent over eight years writing this book, and it's a tribute to her that dunderheads like me can make a dish as awesome as this! Thanks, Julia!

A Different Kind Of Class

Do you ever get that deer in the headlights feeling? I did. Two weekends ago I showed Herman the starter rifle I had for his son, little Herman (who I will refer to as H3). Herman was excited, and so was Jen. They both want H3, and eventually all their kids, to know about guns, how to shoot them, and how to handle them safely. I'm all for that! The deer in the headlights feeling came when Herman called me up and said, "Hey! When are we going shooting this weekend?"

To be sure, I don't remember telling him that I would go shooting with him the next weekend when I showed him that rifle. I had intended to find a time when he had the kids so that we could have a leisurely day of shooting. As it was I had church commitments, the jewelry party, meeting with Lynn, the photography class, and my first serious cooking attempt all planned out. But I like to shoot, so I worked it in.

Right after the photography class I grabbed all my stuff and hightailed it for Roanoke. On the way he called and started vacillating on shooting. He wasn't sure it was worth the time or the shortness of the day due to our planned cooking (I said I'd do my cooking up there for them). We went back and forth on it for awhile, but eventually decided to proceed with the shoot as planned. When I got to their house, I offloaded all the groceries and cookware, picked up Herman and H3, and zoomed up to the range.

Herman and Jen are lucky! They've got a nice range not more than ten minutes from their house. It is called Quail Creek Shooting Range. It's a nice outdoor facility that is run by, as far as I've seen so far, nice and competent guys. We checked in and paid, and we took two rifles out to the benches and set up H3 to shoot his first real gun!

When we got out to the benches, I let Herman do all the teaching. H3 is Herman's son, and Herman is ex-Marine, so I deemed it fitting that father teach son, not father's friend. It's tradition, and what am I going to teach an ex-Marine rifleman's son about shooting? Herman knew what to teach and how to teach it. I just pulled out my lever action .22 and plinked away.

The gun I brought for H3 is a little single-shot, bolt action .22, a Crickett rifle. They are small and made for kids. It was just the right size for H3. I fired it once to show Herman and H3 how it worked (and to make sure it worked). After that it was all Herman's show. He walked his son through the basics: never point a gun at anyone, always keep the gun pointed at a safe place, down range at the range, don't play with loaded guns, make sure to follow the range officer's instructions, never shoot unless he, Herman, Jen, or myself are around. After the basic safety, Herman showed him how to hold the gun, how to load it, aim, cock it, and put the bullet on the target. It was art in motion watching father and son having their first shoot.

It's something I kinda wish my dad had done for me. My dad had, at one time, known about shooting and did some recreational shooting. But in 1965 my dad was went to Vietnam to be a forward air observer. After four months in country, in a no-kidding real-shooting war, his days of firearms were over. I can't say as I blame him for not wanting to relive that, but I also feel like I missed out on something we could have shared. More's the pity.

Herman and H3 won't have that regret, and that warms my heart! H3 took to that little rifle like it was his best friend. Before we were done, he was asking Herman, "Daddy, can I have my own gun?" The answer to that will be, "Later son, when you're a little older." H3 is only seven years old right now, but I think he will be perfectly fine with guns. I didn't see him do anything wrong or unsafe. He is a well-behaved and well-disciplined youngster who looks out for himself and his siblings. If he continues in that behavior I would have no problem getting him his own gun.

I was a little afraid I might not get that rifle back! H3 became quite adept at using it. After Herman loaded and cocked it the first time, H3 would grasp it, pull it into his shoulder, squint down the barrel, and squeeze that trigger. His first shot, naturally, was nowhere on the paper. That's ok! It will come with time. It didn't take long before H3 was pulling that bolt open, putting the next round in, and closing that bolt all by himself, and quite well, too. The only thing he had trouble with was cocking the rifle. The Crickett is manually cocked by pulling back on the cocking piece, and it takes some effort to do it. H3 was able to do it about half the time. The other half Herman would pull it back for him. Eventually he was able to put together a respectable group at seven yards (hey! we started out slow!).

The target I was shooting at had nice, ragged holes at the center of my targets, plus one hole dead center for my last round. (I was shooting kneeling with the rifle on the bench). Not quite a hard feet to accomplish, but I had lots of fun. We took the targets down. H3's will get framed at some point. When we got back to the house we, of course, showed Jen my target with the nice, tight groups, and told her it was H3's. Then we showed her H3's and told her it was mine. She didn't buy it--she always knows when Herman and I are full of it. Not that it matters anyway. She was just as happy as we were.

All in all it was mission accomplished on several fronts. We had fun. We taught another kid how to shoot. And we strengthened a bond between father and son. Pretty good for an afternoon's work!

Our First Photography Class

Yizong is all excited about teaching photography. He came to me and asked me to help him put it together. We both selected pictures from our respective collections, both good and bad, to use as examples. We talked about what we would cover. Yizong wants to get into talking about the equipment so badly he can taste it, but I insisted that we teach the basics first. Things like what makes a good picture and why. He came around quickly, and we put together our topics.

Putting together the class, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as easy as planning it. I had no idea who the target audience really was. At first I thought it was only the youth group. Yizong said that it was for the entire church. Either way the material would be the same, so I got myself into a place where I could talk in front of either kids or adults. Our first date fizzled because of weather. Our second date, our first class, fizzled due to participation.

Maybe fizzled isn't the right word, but it sure did seem like it to me. Of all the hype that I thought was surrounding the class, only three people showed up. I couldn't really tell if any of them wanted to be there, however. Two of the kids are boyfriend/girlfriend, and they only want to be with each other. That we were having a photography class was a tertiary consideration for them. The other kid that showed is an artistically inclined type, but he really didn't say much of anything until the last few slides.

Slides... it seems we do everything with slides now. Powerpoint, or in this case, Keynote (Apple's answer to Powerpoint). And the class itself... Yizong started off like a college professor. He did all the talking, presented all the facts, and had an entirely one-way dialog with his "students." It did not go well. I've done that in classes I have taught before, and it never works out well, especially if the kids don't want to be there. He made it through the first topic: simplicity, but I had to have him go back through the slides and get the kids involved.

Getting the kids involved is the hardest part of the class. The material is ok, better if it's interesting, but useless if the students don't care. In this case I made him go back through his slides, and I started asking the kids questions. Things like, how does this picture make you feel? What do you like about this picture? What don't you like? That last question got us in trouble. One of the three kids is black, and he stated as his first dislike, "There aren't any black people." He was right, there were no pictures of black people in our slides, but neither of us wanted the class to degenerate into a racial discussion. Fortunately he didn't press the point, and we went forward, but we had to actively involve the kids. At times it was like pulling teeth to get them to make any comments on the pictures or the principles.

We held their attention for about 35-40 minutes, then our couple started texting, taking pictures of themselves, and doting on each other. Our artistic kid made a few comments about principles that we hadn't covered that apply to photography, but are more commonly talked about in other areas like drawing. After that 40 minutes, it was useless to continue, but we had reached the end of our slides. Somehow we had no concluding slides to summarize, but I doubt they would have made any impact.

That's really what I wonder at this point: did that class have any impact at all? Did the kids care? It seemed to me like they didn't. The few kids that did show interest didn't come, and it felt to me like we were wasting our time. No adults showed up. I'm not sure how this class was pitched either in the announcements or the newsletter, but I felt like it had been limited to the youth.

Should we continue? I'm on the fence. Part of me feels like we need to reteach the first part again to a larger audience to drum up support, but I'm not sure how practical that is at this point. There's more to write about this youth group, but I want to cover that in a post just for them. This post is about photography, and it's done. The question is: is our class done as well?

Lynn's Sermon

As a continuation of my post last night, I want to talk about the sermon I heard. Admittedly I walked in late, but I got the majority of it. Lynn's sermon is the kind that really holds my attention. It offered a new perspective on Christ and his teaching.

What exactly held my interest? The concept that Christ could have been suggesting putting people that use Christians in a position where their abuse becomes obvious. To illustrate his point, he showed a clip from Gandhi. In the clip Gandhi and several hundred people come up to a line of British soldiers. All the Indians do is approach. The soldiers beat them, and injured the Indians are carried off. Then the another line of Indians come up to the soldiers, and the soldiers beat them, too. This happens over and over. A man in the background, perhaps the soldiers' overseer (I haven't seen the movie so I don't know) looks on with increasing angst and embarrassment. This spectacle spurs a newspaper reporter to phone in a story stating that India was free--the British no longer had effective control. I was a little uncomfortable with this illustration. I always thought of Gandhi as a proponent of civil disobedience. That's not what Christ was about at all, but the point is similar.

The point Lynn was trying to make was about turning the other cheek, walking a second mile, and giving a tunic as well as a cloak--it would put the offending party into an embarrassing situation. According to Lynn, being struck on the right cheek is the only convenient way to backhand a person with one's right hand. Note that in this culture, only the right hand can be used as the left is reserved for unclean activities. If one is struck on the right, then turning the other cheek would involve a more overt and obvious act of violence. Being compelled to walk one mile was apparently a Roman soldier's prerogative if he wanted relief from carrying his pack, but he was compelled by law to only have the other carry it one mile. Having carried it past that first mile would be a breach either of law or military decorum. The clack/tunic combination was apparently the common combination of dress, with nothing really underneath. So if a person was to surrender his clack and tunic, he would be nearly if not completely naked. If a person forced to do something humiliating continued to do that humiliating thing long enough and in front of enough people, I could see how that would be very embarrassing to people who might be observing.

I always took this to be either an act of subservience or caring. That is, if I was forced to walk with a person for a certain distance, then walking with them a little further I would see as an act of forgiveness that shows I hold them no malice. But in Lynn's illustration, that same behavior is meant to induce embarrassment, possibly and maybe even probably to the detriment of the person doing the compelling. I think the main difference between my past thinking and Lynn's is the concept of observation. In my mind, all these would be private acts, with no observers. In Lynn's these would be public acts, plainly observable by many. Unfortunately, both our lines of thought are correct. Practicing these activities in public would certainly have a more immediate and possibly gratifying effect than doing them in private. But I think the more important point is how we respond in private.

If we do respond to a situation in one way while we're in public and respond to it a different way in private, what does that say about us? If we're still doing the right thing, i.e. not in outright rebellion or hate, then I think we're still probably ok. After all, how one responds to a person one-on-one versus how one responds in public can be quite different. What matters is that the message does not change. If we change that message, then that makes us liars and hypocrites, and we have no integrity. I recall that's how one of my teachers in high school defined a person of integrity: one who does the same thing in public and private. I subscribe to that theory. Unfortunately, it doesn't always hold, as much as I try.

Lynn did hold my attention, and he has now piqued my interest. I'm glad, because after hearing his performance in "Biblical storytelling," I wasn't impressed. I was very impressed after last Sunday. I'm looking forward to more.

Busy Sunday

Last Sunday was one of my busier ones. I had plans to help teach a photography class, take a kid shooting and cook dinner for some friends, and at the same time make it to church. The day started out inauspiciously. I woke up later than I would have liked, so I was late getting away from the house. I went to three stores looking for cheese cloth. The local Walmart Market didn't have any, and the local Tom Thumb was out. Kroger had some, and I literally parked crossways, ran in, bought it and ran out so that I could make it to church.

I was a half hour late to church. My thinking was that I would miss the singing and all the preliminaries and make it in time for the sermon. It almost worked. The sermon was already underway when I took my seat, but I hadn't missed much. It was an excellent Sermon. More on that in a later post. After the service I offloaded about fifty pounds of leftover Christmas Oreo-wannabe cookies, then I waited.

That's all I could do. Apparently Yizong switched around some of his scheduling, and instead of being at TCC this Sunday as I had thought, he was at RCC. As such there wasn't much for me to do for three quarters of an hour. Two of the youth group hung around and started pizzas for the photography class, then started decorating one of the rooms for a Monday night do. Yizong got to TCC a little before 1 in the afternoon.

We took the pizzas and some other food into one of the classrooms and set up for the photography class. Only three people showed up. Two of the three really didn't care if they were there or not, and the third didn't say much of anything. I want to talk more about that class later, but for now I'll move on.

I went up to Roanoke with everything to make boeuf bourguignon plus a little single shot bolt action rifle for a kid. While I was driving up, Herman called and asked if we should go to the range or skip it and proceed directly to cooking. We went back and forth for a little while and ultimately decided to go to the range. When I got to Herman and Jen's I offloaded all the groceries, picked up Herman and Herman and headed to the range. Little Herman learned how to shoot his first rifle. Again, more on this in a later post. We stayed later than we should have and got back to start cooking at 4:30 in the afternoon.

That turned out to be a mistake. Julia wasn't kidding when she said it took two and a half hours to cook boeuf bourguignon. That's just how long it took to simmer the beef. All told we spent nearly four hours cooking. Misty, Jen's friend, showed up for dinner, but we were so late that she had to leave. We were so late that we had to invent something else for the kids to eat before their mom came to pick them up. Finally, at nearly 9 at night, we had dinner. It was worth every minute we waited! Julia definitely knew what she was doing when she wrote Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I want to go into detail on the dish, but again, I'll save that for later.

I got home at about midnight, thoroughly exhausted, but thoroughly satisfied. I had had a lot of fun, and I hope to do it all again!

Being Set Up?

Last Saturday evening my plans weren't exactly looking great. Herman and Jen's friend Misty was having a jewelry party. I was invited to go. As I didn't have anything better to do, I went.

Going to a jewelry party wasn't exactly my idea of fun. The Pampered Chef party a week or so ago was a lot of fun, then then I like to cook. Jewelry on the other hand? I don't even wear a ring or a watch, and I don't have a girlfriend to buy things for anymore, so why would I go to a jewelry party? To keep the other guys company was what I understood I would be doing. Never did it cross my mind that I would actually have to participate in the party.

At the party were Herman and Jen, Misty and her husband, David, me, and another girl, Aimee. The girl that was running the show was Crystal. After the standard small talk and a few snacks, Crystal started the show. David, Herman and I became participants. Why? I'm not sure. Crystal went into saleswoman mode, and I was almost immediately turned off. She had a very pushy, in-your-face way of selling, and that always puts me off on whoever is doing the selling. Later, when I talked to Herman and Jen about my impression, they both said that selling wasn't really Crystal's thing, so I hadn't missed my mark. Going through the show was tedious. Jewelry was being passed around, we guys were asked to model it, and we all played a game.

Starting with the game was the first indication I had that maybe there were some ulterior motives afoot. Crystal said that one of the prizes in the game was her. She meant that she would come do a party for you, but both Herman and David made comments like, "Hey Joe! She's single! That'd be a great prize for you!" I didn't pay it any attention at the time--all three of us guys had been making snide comments throughout the show, and I put this off as just another one. The game was gimmicky, and I had yet another put off. It wasn't that if you played you could win Crystal, it was if you played you HAD to have Crystal do a show. Not a good idea to make that kind of claim on me. At the end of the show she asked us to fill out surveys that had our information on it for the purpose of, I assumed, follow on solicitation to do another show. I filled out mine with the information of the White House press secretary complete with address and phone number.

That turned out to be a tactical error. After the party, but still at Misty's house, Crystal went through the surveys and was verifying information. When she got to mine, she asked, "Who's Jay Carney?" I was busted! At the time I didn't admit anything, and there were accusations going around, but Crystal knew who's it was without too much thought. I laid low, and eventually figured out that Crystal was Misty's sister. I felt bad, apologized, and offered to fill out a real survey, but Crystal told me that it was all right.

After Crystal left, Jen took up the baton of matchmaking. She asked Misty, "So, would you fix up your sister with someone you liked?" Once that was said it was obvious to me that Herman and Jen were trying to fix me up with Crystal. Oops! I don't see that happening, especially after I acted like an ass by filling out a bogus survey and getting caught. Later, when I was talking with them about that party, they owned up that they were trying to fix us up, and I allowed that, as far as salesmanship was concerned, I was kinda put off by Crystal. To be sure I don't know her in a personal setting, and she might be the nicest person in the world, but I don't see us having a chance for any kind of date after the way I treated her at the party. Oh well, cest la vie.

Meeting With The Captain

Lynn White, the senior minister of TCC, has been trying to get me for a one-on-one meeting. This morning I met him for coffee and conversation. Somehow I found myself doing all the talking. He only asked me a handful of questions, and I dutifully recited my experiences with RCC. I went over RCC's ruling cabal, my misadventures in Sunday School teaching, my committees, duties, practices, observations, behaviors, and ultimately, my departure. Then I covered my church search, what I had seen at different churches, my misadventures at the Hospital Church. All that is well and good, but after I finished my recitation, Lynn started talking.

Lynn seems anxious if not desperate to integrate me, well, anyone really, into the day-to-day goings on at TCC. Now I know why. TCC has a membership problem. They don't have a lot of members. They have some productive members, some not-so-productive members, and some people who contribute to the church but are not members. Two conspicuous examples are Chuck Burns and his wife, Paulette. Chuck is the minister who was forced out of RCC--the minister under whom I joined the church. Chuck is heading up the membership development committee at TCC, and yet neither he nor his wife are members. Lynn considers me somewhat out of the ordinary in that I have a sense of situational awareness that tells me that if I am to be a part of an organization, then I should be a formal member of that organization. I think I impressed him on this point.

I hope I also impressed him by my honesty. Brutal honesty might better describe it. He asked me why I joined the church. Or, more accurately, what drew me to the church. I told him it was Yizong, and that I transferred from a church that was an active impediment to my growth to one that, currently at best, is indifferent about me. Honesty has always been a simultaneous virtue and impediment in my adult life, but I think it's the best way to approach things. In this situation I think it is especially necessary considering that this church will hopefully be ministering to me.

Or not. Lynn was quite frank in identifying a single adult ministry as a definite weakness at TCC, and this is where the real crux of the matter of TCC exists. TCC is a church that is trying to find its way in a quickly and radically changing way, and I think Lynn has identified that the old models of religion and church operation may not work in this new environment. I believe he's right. The problem he has is the same one I have. How does a church in this new environment attract, develop and minister to single adults? That's a toughie, especially considering the post modern mindset that he and I both identify as being something that the church will deal with on an increasingly common basis.

One potential idea that has been put forward is something termed by Chuck as "Contagious Christianity." I've heard that term before, I just don't recall where. The bottom line is how do you market Christianity and the Church? Looks like we'll have to start thinking fast and hard.

The Ex-Files: Vindictiveness Abounds In Grade School

Well, I didn't think I'd be writing about Monica so soon after my last post, but there has been a development. While we were together, we did some geocaching together, and I found some of her caches. In one case I found her cache all by my lonesome. In the other cases I found them with her--she wanted to show them to me. In the game of Geocaching you go and find the cache, physically sign the log, then post a log online. That's what I did.

Last night I got several emails from the geocaching site informing me that my logs had been deleted. Tonight I got over a dozen more to the same effect. Monica decided to delete all of my logs. She decided to delete them even though she knows I found them and signed the logs. I guess she has decided that I am no longer worthy to even associate with her, however tangential it may be.

This kind of behavior I can only describe as juvenile, to the point of grade school. When we broke up she insisted that I deliver all of "her" stuff to her apartment (even though I had bought and paid for it all), and do it on her schedule. To avoid any unpleasantness, I carted it all to her apartment office on a day I could make it and delivered it. She turned around and gave half of it away. Then she unfriended me on Facebook. Then she called and left a nasty voicemail on my phone a couple of weeks after the breakup. Now she has decided to try to get back at me by taking away points in a game. Demanding "her" stuff back was pretty brazen, but somewhat understandable. Unfriending me and engaging in name-calling transcends sophomoric. Taking away points in a game? Could we be in grade school? I remember doing stuff like that when I was in third grade.

I hope this is the last episode in the Ex-Files for awhile--I detest soap operas.

The Ex-Files: First SWAG Of The Year

Tonight I made my return to SWAG. I haven't been in awhile mainly due to working 2nd shift at work. I was really looking forward to seeing a few people, but I wasn't prepared for what I found. When I got there, there were a bunch of people. The party room at the restaurant was already half full before the event had even officially started, and all the people I wanted to see were either already engaged, or not there yet. I joined in the banality, hoping for some relationship recap and also hoping for no ex-girlfriend. Neither was I to have.

Apparently the gathering was to celebrate February birthdays, and Monica was one of them. She had responded to someone there that she would be at the event. I just ordered my food, stayed in the discussions, and ignored her when she actually showed up. Neither of us talked to the other. I signed her birthday card. It's a toss up whether she can read the untidy scrawl that is my signature. If she can, I wonder what she will do with the card (if she even keeps it at all). I did talk with some of the people I wanted to, but nothing substantial. I played Monica's last, hateful voicemail for a few people. The reaction was the same--shocked and hurt. Leslie, who I really wanted to talk to, was completely engaged the entire evening, but she said she wanted to hear what happened later on.

Monica and I were able to coexist in the same room with each other. I was actively avoiding her. I suspect she was actively avoiding me as well. I know I shouldn't care what she said, but I'm sure she talked about me, and I'm curious as to what was said. I don't care if it was negative, just so long as it was the truth. Ah well, it's probably not meant to be, and as far as outings go, it wasn't altogether a failure, just not what I was wanting.

How Did My Weekend Really Go?

Ok, I admit it. I was feeling pretty down about things right before the weekend. I didn't have any plans or anything to do, and definitely nobody to do it with. Then there was Singles Awareness Day around the corner, and that just put a magnifying glass and spotlight on my singularity. But to be sure my weekend didn't turn out at all bad.

Friday did kinda suck. Instead of staying home and doing something useful (well, useless really), I worked extra hours at the office. Didn't make much progress though.

Saturday wasn't at all bad. I slept in late. Not ultra late, but breakfast was lunch. I bummed around the house until the Pampered Chef party. It turns out I had nothing to worry about considering H and J. They've both been going through their own trials and tribulations, and they have been quite properly become hermits for a little while. The PC show was excellent. There were a lot of gadgets. Some were more useful than others, and, of course, they were all expensive. I'll buy a few of the more exotic things.

Sunday I stayed away from home most of the day. I went to church. It was mediocre. Although, I must say, it amuses me to sing "Edelweiss" at the end of each service. Apparently thirty-ish years ago someone got the bright idea to change the lyrics to a church benediction song. I guess that's ok, but as everyone else is singing the Benediction, I'm belting out an "Edelweiss" that would be the envy of Captain von Trapp.

After the service I caught lunch with Yizong and did some shopping. I wanted some intel on TCC, and Yizong provided what I needed. We are both exploring this new church, and we share some of the same observations. We both agree that my meeting with Lynn will be interesting. After lunch I did some looking for books. I added to my batterie de cuisine. I found a nice sauce pan at Ross that I couldn't live without. At Half Price Books I found another Julia Child cookbook I couldn't live without: Julia Child & Company. I went to the Texas Thrift Store to see if they had any usable cookware. Nada. I bought a book for 40 cents and paid with a debit card (I don't carry cash). Big Lots had nothing I wanted or needed. I went back up to Target. They had a 6 quart french oven I looked at. I've been on the fence about those for some time. I ended up at Walmart also looking for french ovens, and after today, I know which one I'm buying.

I finally ended up back at TCC for their pre-VD dinner. Yizong has been talking up my guns with the youth. Somehow I just went up several notches in their estimation. The food was decent, and the conversation bearable. I ejected before the concert part of the evening to do some laundry.

I didn't feel as alone as I could have. Friday I did. Saturday I didn't so much, except to say that Monica did come up in conversation. Today I didn't have time to feel lonely because I was busy. I don't know. How did my weekend turn out?

Singles Awareness Day 2011

Well, here I am again, celebrating Singles Awareness Day. This is an alternative to Valentine's Day. VD is for couples and marrieds. SAD is for everyone else. It's a day that some singles celebrate their singleness. Or their singularity, if you will. Others, like me, reflect on their singleness and wonder, "what if?" I had hoped that I would be able to celebrate my first real VD, but I guess it just wasn't meant to be. (School-mandated or encouraged VD parties/card exchanges don't count.)

What makes this one different is it had the potential to be a real VD. I was truly hoping Monica and I were going to make it. Obviously, we didn't. And while I don't regret the decision to break off romantic entanglements with her in the least, another SAD serves to magnify that I'm alone yet again.

I'll stop now. This isn't a pity party. This is, unfortunately, a case of it is what it is.

New Member, New Resource

"Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!" That's the phrase that keeps going off in my mind concerning this church (TCC). If you will recall, last week in my post Getting Plugged In Again, I mentioned that I was getting overtones of being integrated (hopefully not sucked) into this church's service/support network. Late last week it was confirmed. I got an email from the senior minister. He said, "...I’d like to find a time to visit soon and get to know you better – and to talk about areas of our church’s ministry where your gifts might be best matched." Boy! if ICAWs* weren't going off in my head, they sure are now! As I said before, I'm gun-shy about getting immediately plugged in to a service role again. I just don't want to end up in a constantly-giving-never-receiving position again.

All that said, I understand his thinking. In a well-functioning church, all its members should be involved (assuming they are able). That's what makes a church operate, and the members have ownership and a stake in the outcomes. But after today, I also understand this request on a more practical level. When I first visited this church, I was impressed that it had as big a facility as it had. The church has a decent-sized sanctuary, fairly modern computing, sound and security systems, its own gym, an almost-commercial kitchen, and plenty, and I mean PLENTY of room for expansion. How right I was. Over the last two weeks, I finally came to understand that for all they have in facilities, they lack in membership. That is to say, they don't have the manpower (or the money) to either take full advantage of their facilities, or enjoy them. This church desperately needs people (read members) to get things off the ground.

This also explains why Yizong and my former minister, Chuck Burns, are both hot to trot over this church. It's a very pioneering on-the-front-lines type of church. Its ministries are just developing, its place in the community is not well established, and there is plenty of potential to go around. The question is how to tap that potential. Good question, but not the one that primarily concerns me.

No, I'm going to play the mercenary for a moment. As much as people aren't supposed to ask this question of churches, I will (but just for the moment): What's in it for me? By that question I mean: how can it minister to me? At RCC, the answer was plain. RCC couldn't. To be frank, the classes were all basic and uninteresting. After the departure of Rev. Burns the preaching was standard at best, and, with the arrival of Rev. Morris, it turned to laughable and farcical. I was an inconvenient anomaly in the church--a single, unmarried adult well-established in his career who, as time went by, started looking for his life mate (read wife). Due to my anomalous existence, I was shuffled around from class to class and role to role until I was integrated as a cog in the mom-and-pop business of RCC's day-to-day operations. There I started working my tail off, but never did I receive any kind of spiritual nourishment or personal encouragement. I withered on the vine and eventually fell off.

So here I am at a church who is just beginning to get its footing (I hope), but what does it offer me in the way of spiritual and personal enhancement? I don't know. I suppose I'll find out. At any rate the senior minister here, Dr. Lynn White, as asked to me to do a one-on-one meet-and-greet/get-to-know-you meeting this week. More updates as they happen.

*ICAW - Integrated Caution And Warning

Alone

Fair warning! I'm going to post something that is going to sound whiny and complainy. Proceed at your own risk.

This week has been one of those weeks that just isolates me. I haven't really heard anything from friends. Work has been trying. Things haven't been going my way. All I've been doing is going to work late, getting home late, sleeping late, dodging housework, and watching TV. I've had no social life whatsoever--going to work second shift just kills any chance of that. I was hoping that the weekend would be looking up, but that may not be in the cards.

I have two tickets to the Fort Worth Symphony tomorrow night. I don't have a date or anyone else to go with. My cousin is busy, and my two friends from Roanoke haven't got back to me to tell me one way or the other if they want to go. Because I have a subscription I can move my tickets around, but I have to do it before show time, which means that I have to call the box office and tell them what I intend to with my tickets if I don't use them. Do I want to go to the symphony alone? Not really, but I don't want to waste my tickets, either, and at this point it looks like I'll be the only one using them.

Saturday there's a Pampered Chef party being thrown by Herman and Jen, my Roanoke friends. At least I hope they're still my friends. The last time I hang out with them was three weeks ago. Since then whenever I've emailed or messaged them, they haven't gotten back to me. I've been going over things in my mind, trying to think if I've done something to make them upset at me. I can think of two things. When we went shooting, I met a guy and ogled his .22 for a few minutes, leaving H and J by themselves. Last week I made a comment on Facebook on one of their friends' posts that could have been taken the wrong way. Or they may just be busy, I don't know. All I do know is that they haven't contacted me, so I'm a bit apprehensive about going to see them.

I don't even know what I'll do Sunday. Yizong will be at Ridgles, and I don't really relish going to TCC alone. I prefer to know my enemy before I engage him. Right now I don't know what the political situation is like. I don't know what the groups are, or the ministries, or the needs, or the wants, or anything. As I said in a previous post, all I did was change my paperwork from a hostile church to an indifferent one (at least towards me). I don't think I want to go.

Therein lies my real problem. I don't have any friends to do anything with. H and J are not the church-going type. Truth be told, I don't have any friends who do go to church. Yizong is a minister by trade, and while he's my friend, he's also on duty when he's in church. He can be friendly, yes, but he can't really be my buddy.

So this weekend, it looks like I'm going to be isolated yet again. This sucks!

TCC's Youth Group

TCC's youth group makes me feel like an old man. Over the past couple of weeks, I've seen three or four girls, all in high school, all with boyfriends. I look at that and think, wow! What was I missing in high school? Or missing out on, rather. Now, to be honest, I don't think any of these kids really understand what a long-lasting relationship entails, but I don't know them that well yet. But they seem to be happy with in the realm of boyfriend/girlfriend. I think it's interesting to see the contrast with the youth group from my old church.

RCC's youth group was smaller. There were only two or three people of high school age in the group at any one time. There was absolutely no interest in romance, at least none that I saw. There was also much more of a legacy feeling at RCC--the youth were from well-established members, or they had been there all their lives. I haven't gotten that feeling from the TCC youth yet, but I haven't really gotten into the matter at the same time.

As time goes on, I'll be interested to see what other differences there are. One that pops out right away is the grittiness of this group. The RCC group was very pious. I don't say they were very Christian, I didn't know them well enough to make that determination, but they were very pious. This group is anything but pious. They also don't seem to be concerned with church politics. The RCC group really wasn't involved in church politics, but they understood that there was a political dynamic among families. I don't get that sense here. I think it's a good thing that the lack the piety and religious political dynamic because it makes things much more black and white. RCC's youth group operated in a multitude of gray areas.

I will end by saying that Yizong has his work cut out for him in this area. These kids strike me as just starting out in their Christian walks, and they're not little kids anymore. It will be interesting to see how group dynamic develops as this photography class progresses.

Getting Plugged In Again

One of the reasons I've been super reluctant to join a church again is the amount of work and activities I got involved in at RCC. At one point I was sitting on two standing committees, visiting a third, serving as the church webmaster, running the sound system at least once and sometimes twice a month, as well as doing photography for the church. At several points I was approached about doing a church pictorial directory in-house. Come to think of it, I also taught one of their Sunday school classes for a few months. I was one busy bee.

The problem was that nobody appreciated any of what I did. I was chased out of my teaching position because the kids didn't like me. None of my ideas flew in the committees. The website I was authoring was summarily scrapped by the senior minister. Why? I'm not sure. Photography was almost taken for granted when they figured out I showed up with a camera quite often. As for sound? Well, as soon as I ejected from the church, all my efforts in that area came to a screeching halt.

I was burned out. I was in a relationship where I was doing all the giving and getting nothing in return. To make matters worse, any little issue that came up that was truly little was generally blown way out of proportion by either the ruling cabal or the senior minister, and sometimes both. Knowing that joining a church opens me up to that kind of a commitment, I hesitated to join.

And I must say, that hesitancy is well founded. Today, after doing the standing-at-the-front and the meet-and-greet afterwards, the church organizer found me. We talked for a little while about what I'd done at my previous church as well as what I did for a living. We ended the conversation with her saying something to the effect of, "well, I think we can use you." I remember much the same thing being said to me at RCC.

Right now I plan to keep TCC at arm's length. I'll help Yizong do the photography class, but not much else right off. If TCC can minister to me, then great! I have doubts that it can, but we'll see.

A Change Of Paperwork, A New Church

Today I played a game of pure church politics. I transferred my membership from Ridglea Christian to Trinity Christian. All this accomplishes is a change of paperwork. I will be officially off of RCC's membership roles and on TCC's roles. In reality I don't expect it to do anything much for me. I wasn't using RCC for anything besides a place holder for one or two forms, and TCC will serve the same purpose.

It has the potential to do two things for Yizong. First, because I joined the church during one of his sermons, he will be awarded any "finder fee" that the church may have, or at least be counted for him during any kind of evaluation. Second, it simplifies his life by having me be a member instead of an outsider. Yizong wants me to help him teach a photography class, and now that I'm a member, there will be less question marks than there would have been if I had been an outsider.

Have I changed my opinion on TCC yet? Not at all. I joined the church to make Yizong's life easier and to remove myself from the roles of a church that was, at best, doing nothing for me, and at worst, may have been standing in the way of some of my ambitions. So, long story short, for the time being I have committed to helping Yizong with some of his projects, but I don't know if my church search/mate search will end here, or how long I'll stay.

It Only Took A Month

This week I found that I'm right back where I was before I met Monica. I have no significant other, no prospects, and no idea where to start. I guess several days of being confined to one's house with nobody to talk to and nothing to do will give a person time to think. Do I miss having a girlfriend? Yes, but not necessarily the girlfriend I had. Still, with nothing to do and nobody to talk to, it's still a dreary existence. And it only took four weeks to swing back around to loneliness.

Societal Norms

Ok, time for a little treasonous thinking.

The question: since when did "we" ever get the idea that 18 was the cutoff date for anything? You have to be 18 to vote. In some places you have to be 18 to drink. You have to be 18 to get married. You have to be 18 to buy guns and ammo.

But here are some more interesting things: You only have to be 16 to drive, at least in TX. You have to be 21 to buy a handgun and handgun ammo, at least in most of the stores I shop in. (Probably all, but I'm just going by the posted signs.) You have to be 25 before you get a "normal" insurance rate. But let's disregard the majority of this for the moment.

You have to be at least 18 to get married, at least in the US of A and most other places "civilized." There are some circumstances when you can get married before 18, but always with someone blessing the union--not God, but the parents, the court, or someone in like capacity. Now, to be more specific, since when did we get the idea that 18 was the minimum age to marry?

In other countries and historically, 18 was never the age. 15 or younger was common, and as young as 12 was not unheard of. In fact some marriages were set up in advance (read arranged) by the parents of the couple before they were even old enough to go to school. And yet today, we think, nay, require, that people be 18 years old to get married. Why?

Forget why for the moment. Let me ask another question: have we, as a society, created our own problems by imposing an arbitrary age limit on marriage? Consider: there is a perceived epidemic of child sex, teen pregnancies, single mothers, and, single parenthood families receiving state-subsidized support for their children. Why do we have this problem?

The answer is simple: "kids" are having sex. No, the quotes are not an accident. We classify anyone under 18 as a child, and anyone over 18 as an adult. But why are kids having sex? Not because of peer pressure or dares or etc., but because their urges have switched on. Biology has kicked in, and kids are trying to satisfy those urges. Is that wrong?

Joycelyn Elders didn't think so. Joycelyn Elders was Surgeon General under President Clinton. She saw what was going on, and she put forward a solution: Teach "kids" how to masturbate. Oh! how the public didn't like that. Dr. Elders was roundly and soundly derided by the US public, and she was shortly fired from her position. Was she wrong?

Churches, conservatives, special interest groups, and many others thought she was. Republicans love to trot out family values as one of their campaign planks, and they beat up on anyone who threatens so-called family values. People in general don't like talking about their sex lives, or lack thereof, and any activities to satisfy their sexual desires outside of a relationship. Churches... well, churches love to hold up an issue and vilify it by saying that it's against God's Word or commands.

Ok, for the sake of argument, let's say that masturbation is contrary to the Bible. Is "child" marriage? Oops... "Let's not go there!" is the mantra that many churches will take when asked this question. Why don't they like to talk about this? It's because of the highly-debated issue of how old Mary was when she gave birth to Jesus. Was she 18? Was she 15? Was she younger? "But that's a different culture and a different time!" protests the church. Granted, but were Mary and Joseph immune to the biological happenings of puberty? While we can't know for sure, I'll hazard an opinion and say they weren't.

"Foul!" cries the church! "Foul!" cry Republicans! "We're not in that country or that culture!" they protest. Fair enough, but, my original questions still stand: when did we figure out 18 was the threshold age for adulthood, and, if that assumption is faulty, have we created our own problems of childhood pregnancy, spread of VD, and all the other consequences that go with sex under 18?

From a purely engineering perspective, I have to say that 18 is an arbitrary number that, in effect, is meaningless. Consider: why is an inch an inch? Who decided that? Why is a day 24 hours instead of 20 hours, or a year 365.24 days instead of 400, or 300? Humans are very good at assigning an arbitrary number or label to something, and we do so for convenience.

18 and over is adult, 17 and under is child. That simplifies a lot of things. For the legal system, there is no thought given to what makes an adult an adult--if you're 17 or younger, you're a child. If you're 18 or over, you're an adult. Plain and simple. It requires no evaluation of adulthood. It also makes statisticians happy. They have a built-in category for kids: 17 and down. It's convenient to have labels and limits.

The inconvenient thing is that people don't conform to a standard set of rules. I've met kids at the age of 13 who were way more mature than I was, and I've got acquaintances 30+ years and older who still act like they are in college. To be sure, we ask "kids" to stay kids until they're 18, and then we expect them to be adults. Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that.

Kids break free of those lovely arbitrarily-set rules and limitations, but they can't break free from the laws of nature. When the sex drive kicks in, it's off to the races, and good luck keeping up. We ask them or expect them to exercise self-control. Some do, some don't, but are we expecting too much of them? Are we expecting too little of ourselves?

I've got more treason to spout, but not right now. Check back later for my continuation.

Snowed In

There are times when you choose to be alone. Then there are times when you don't get a choice. This is one of those times. This week the metro mess has been covered in ice and show. It all started Monday night. I didn't venture to work until yesterday, and then it was late. I should have stayed later than I did, because it didn't snow until late last night, and I'm behind on paid time off. Around midnight it started snowing in earnest. Right now there's a layer of ice beneath a layer of snow on the road, so everyone is staying in again. The air conditioner guys were supposed to come replace my coil today, but they called and cancelled. Nearly everything is closed from schools to public buildings to colleges to some businesses. Someone on Facebook asked if this is what the ice age was like. I don't know, but it does give one time to consider, do things, be lazy, etc.

First Weekend Alone in Almost Six Months

Why can't I wake up in the morning? I've never been a morning person. Lots of people can spring out of bed around dawn, or at least some semblance of a morning time (which I consider to be half past eight), and some can't. I fall into the group that can't, but in my case, I can't seem to even be functional by lunch time. Yesterday I slept until 2:30pm. Today I was up about three hours sooner, but still, it botched up my half-formed plans of going to church. Yizong has been bugging me to go to Trinity Christian, and I have been twice. Neither time impressed me, as the guy that was preaching was an unqualified disaster at doing so. Today the senior minister was supposed to be preaching, and Yizong really wanted me to hear him. Alas, church started at 11am, and I was still fast asleep.

When I did finally wake up, I once again found myself with nothing to do. It's amazing what you can get accomplished when you have nothing to do. Last night I finished adding some categories to previous blog posts. (I don't know why I did, but I did anyway.) Today, after wasting more time in front of the TV, I dragged myself over to the barber shop for a haircut.

I go to a Pro-Cuts a couple of miles away from me that has one of the best stylists I've used. She is oriental, I'm not sure from where. Her name is Evon. She has a way and a touch that surpass anything I've had before. When I get in her chair, she holds my head gently but firmly, moves me around where she needs to be, and takes some time and pride in her work. My hair isn't that complicated--I always ask for a 4-guard on the sides, short on top and no sideburns. A lot of stylists take about five minutes and boot me out of the chair. Evon makes sure all the little details are taken care of from the length to the shape to the alignment of the sides. While all this is wonderful, it's the shampoo after the cut that takes the cake. I always have my hair washed after a cut. It gets all the little cut hairs out and makes me feel refreshed. The way Evon scrubs and massages my scalp is pure bliss. Too bad she's married.

After my haircut I went back home and, on a lark, decided to trim my crepe myrtle tree in the front. It has been getting out of control and knocking against the house, so with nothing else to do, I got out my lopper and pruned it back pretty severely. I hope it turns out in spring/summer, but at least it looks like most other crepe myrtles that have been pruned around here.

During the pruning, I noticed that three of my across-the-street neighbors were having a supper together. I also noticed Screamer was not joining in. I asked him why, and I get one of the most annoying answers: "because." He likes to do this repetition of "why, because" over and over just like a grade schooler. He's a sophomore in high school, and I think it's important that he start getting into the more adult phases of life. (Not too adult, but definitely into the high school arena.) I told him he should socialize more, if for nothing else to hear some more interesting communication. It didn't go well. Screamer went, and five minutes later he was chased out of the neighbor's house by their kids, all grade schoolers. Screamer really doesn't get acting adult yet, but I'm working on him.

Well, the pruning of the crepe myrtle done, I had to go to the store for some twine. The waste disposal company won't take away loose branches. They have to be bundled and tied. I didn't have any twine, so that's what I went for.

After the store back home, it was too late to tie up the branches (too dark), so I settled in to surfing the web for awhile. I got hungry, but I really didn't want to go back to the store for more food. Instead I practiced my biscuit making again. I started out a few days ago with a recipe I found online. It wasn't all I hoped, but Julia Child's recipe works wonderfully. I got it out of Julia's Kitchen Wisdom. This is the second time I've made the recipe and the fourth time I've made biscuits. I've got them down pat now. And I've got all my dishes in the dish washer, finally!

I wish I could say I'm looking forward to this week, but I'm not. Work is going to be contentious with a software problem that seems never to go away, and I somehow found myself on another hot-button issue on the trainer. On top of that I also get to find out what the bad news is on my air conditioner replacement. Well, at least I had a couple of days where I was able to downshift. Finally!