Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The Picture to go with the Last Post


This is the picture I've been trying to take to go along with the last post.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Kind of like Soap-on-a-Rope


Sam is sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. I took him to the doctor on Friday and called John with the verdict.

Me: Hey John, it's me. Well, Sam's got croup.
John: Poop?
Me: No, croup.
John: I know he's got poop.
Me: Croup. C-R-O-U-P.
John: Oh. What's that?

Sam's back to his normal self during the day, but he still hacks it up at night. He wakes himself up coughing, poor guy. Last night in my delirium I contemplated whether or not I could tie a cough drop to a slot in his crib for him to suck on. Kind of like soap-on-a-robe...only with a Halls lozenge.

He's not sleeping well at night which makes him sleepier during the day. Every time he eats solids he takes a break and lays his little head on his highchair tray...his covered in sweet potato highchair tray. I keep trying to get a picture, but each time I pull out the camera he pops up and grins. The little ham.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Weddings, Football and Cinderella

Yesterday I officiated a wedding that occurred in the midst of a turmultous thunder storm. The storm reached its apex with a clap of thunder at the exact moment I mentioned the difficulties that emerge in genuine relationships. It was a beautiful wedding with a beautiful bride and beautiful guests at a beautiful inn. An inn which happened to be a haven for some very strange people.

If you think I'm innundated by strange people when I'm wearing streets clothes, you should see me when I'm in clerical garb. Put me in a clerical robe and slap on a collar and they'll come out in droves. There are always a few people who stop dead in their tracks and stare at me with panic in their eyes. I suppose a six-foot-tall woman in a flowing white robe in the middle of a thunder storm does give off an angel-of-death feel.

I always feel bad for people who seem to think they have to say something religious when they are around a pastor. Such was the case with poor Harry.

Harry: "You a preacher?"
Me: "Yes."
Harry: "I'm a sinner."
Me: "Then we've got a lot in common." (My feeble attempt to say something witty.)
(Long pause)
Harry: "I go to church on Christmas and Easter and pray every Friday."
Me: "What's on Friday?"
Harry: "Football. We bring out the nuns and they pray the Lord's prayer for us every Friday."
Me: "Oh. That's nice."
Harry: "Yup we pray."

On another note, during the reception I got to sit next to the bride's sister who works at Disney World. She designs and creates the costumes for various characters. At the end of the meal, this woman leaned over to me and said, "Anytime you're in Orlando look me up and I'll get you into the parks." Personally, I would have been happy with the logic behind giving Cinderella a poofy tush, but I'll take free tickets to Disney.

I was really touched by this offer and wanted to respond in kind. All I could come up with, however, was a lame, "Thanks! Well, if you ever need a minister...uh...you can call me and...I'll...do...whatever...you...need."

Nice. Real nice.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Oh Sam...

There's been a little too much I-CUP around my house if you catch my drift.

Sunday, August 03, 2008

What I Have in Common With Jephthah



I try not to barter with God, but sometimes it just slips out. Like when I was in labor with Sam and told God about fifty times that he could have my smallest toe if he would just make it all go away.

"God, you can cut off my toe, just make this stop."
"Seriously, God, you can have my toe."
"Just take my toe!"

It seems crazy to think about now, but at the time it seemed like a very logical trade--a small toe for a baby.

I bartered again last night. Sam was having a rough night--I think his teeth were bothering him.. Six out of his eight teeth are emerging through his gums simultaneously. Yes, eight teeth. (Personally, I think kids should only be allowed to get a tooth for every month they have under their belt. And at seven months I think Sam is a little over quota). Anyway, I was rocking him around 3 am when a barter burst forth:

"God, if you just let Sam sleep through the night, I promise I won't do any dishes tomorrow."

Seriously. That was my offer. I don't know where it came from or how I was able to justify that as a legitimate trade, but there you have it. The late night logic of my mind.

For the record, Sam did drift back to sleep, and I'm committed to not doing dishes today, so I guess it worked.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

White Stationary Offends Me

As mentioned in earlier posts, John often says that I attract strange people. I remind him that he married me. But it's happened again.

The other day I was walking through a gift store when a woman approached me holding brown stationary with blue dots.

Woman: Excuse me, do you think the rip in the cellophane is very noticeable?
Me: Not at all. You can barely see it.
Woman: It's for a gift, do you think it would be okay?
Me: Yeah, I think that would be fine.
Woman: Well, it's marked down 50% and you can't really beat that.
Me: No, you can't. I think that's a good gift.
Woman: You do? Even though it has that tiny rip?
Me: Yes, you can barely even see it.

And here's where the conversation started to go off course.

Woman: It's for my son's teacher. You think it would make a good teacher gift?
Me: I think it would make a good teacher gift.
Woman: But his teacher is African American.
Me: (Long pause) Okaaaay?
Woman: And the stationary is brown.
Me: (Even longer pause) Okaaaaaaaaay?
Woman: Well, I wouldn't want to offend an African American by giving them brown stationary.
Me: I think you'll be fine.
Woman: I don't want to offend her.
Me: (Another long pause) I. Think. You're. Going. To. Be. Okay.
Woman: You really think so? I just want to make sure--I'm very sensitive about these matters.

Yes. Very sensitive indeed.