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| Just a brief reminder to pray for Russ (the soldier who's been coming to church in a wheelchair), who'll be going out of town for disc replacement (I think that's right - please correct me if you know better) surgery Thursday. He'll be gone for about a week to recover, etc. I am told that any surgery that involves the spinal area like this is not trivial, so please pray that the surgery will go well, that he'll make a quick recovery, and that he'll be up and walking soon.
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| I have just created a flatiron photo album documenting the hike my dad and I took this last weekend in the Superstition Mountains. We started at the bottom, met a little friend, went to the top, and came back down again. Hope this scenery inspires you to great things, among which are posting photos of another hiking trip I was a part of in a certain state north of us (if your name starts with a 'J' and ends with an 'orge'). I know you got the hint, buddy, because after all, we do share one mind.
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| It was a quiet morning - only a few office doors were open along the hallway at my place of business. Still a bit tired, gazing mindlessly at the 25-inch LCD monitor which dominates my desk, I hummed along bemusedly to the jazzy muzak which filled my ear while I waited for the gal from the electric company to service my call. It was then that I realized that Alanna, whom I had been IMing, had not heard the tale of my official welcoming to Northeast El Paso. This is the tale that I shall share with you below. My apologies to those already well-acquainted, but I think it may be of interest to others.
I had just picked Alex up from the Eastside after he had finished his closing shift at the restaurant where he works, and we headed out to spend the night in the Northeast apartment that I had moved into the week before. We chatted around the kitchen table, which is in the apartment's entryway, in the manner those around have grown so accustomed to - hard-hitting, relevant discussion about the state of humanity, the arts, etc., until it was quite late. I believe it was 2:30AM that we heard a sudden twisting of the doorknob, a door-rattle, and finally a knock. Coolly, calmly, rationally, we reasoned as to who would be trying to gain access to my abode at this particular hour. The fruits of our logical arguments producing nothing useful, we peeked out the window to find a shortish hispanic male, dressed as if for a night on the town. With no immediate recourse, we decided to answer the door and see what the fellow wanted.
I at first cracked the door, and then finally opened it, asking the gentleman, whom we later dubbed "Roberto" for convenience, if I could help him. The conversation went something like this....
R: "We saw your couch and we thought that we would come talk to you, because we've been going around knocking."
Me: "Are you, uhhh, mmmm..."
R: "I've been doing the knocking for the group, and we were going around looking for Christmas warmth."
Me: "Uhhhhh, how many of you are there?"
R: "Oh, about six."
Me: "Where are they?"
R: "Oh, they're down there (pointing to the bottom of the stairs that lead down from my balcony). You may not see them, though (said kind of haltingly)."
[I was on the porch at this point, and I could see that there was nobody there. Alex, however, was behind me inside, and thought that there were actually people there. He later said that he was a bit nervous that they might be waiting to rush us or something]
R: "We were wondering if maybe you could give us some Christmas warmth. You're all we have right now, we've been knocking on doors and you're all that we have."
Me: "You know that Christmas was a week ago, right?"
R: "Um, yes."
Me: "So, uh, where are you guys from?" [I am simply trying to stall at this point, because I have no clue what to do]
R: "We're from Arkansas. I've been doing most of the knocking for the group. All of the group that you see here, which is pretty much me (this is the point where first, Alex realized that there was nobody else, and second started laughing as a result) have been going around all night looking for Christmas warmth"
Me: "Uhhh, hold on for a second"
R: "Um, I guess you can call the cops on me or whatever"
Me: "Just hold on"
[this is where I went inside and motioned for Alex to talk to me, 'cause I didn't really know what to do. Alex, however, just went on the porch and talked to the dude]
A: "Hey man, are you drunk?"
R: "Yeah, that's how we deal with the cold."
A: "Well, I think we're just gonna have to say 'no'."
R: "Alright" (and walks down the stairs)
Not long after, Roberto was in police custody, where he was provided with Christmas warmth until a ride came for him. | | |
| Had Dante lived today, I believe he would have augmented his models of heaven and hell with an extra level each for those Texans who not only are zealously devoted to their state, but also are prone to spontaneous and adamant rattling on about the "greatness" of said land mass. Here is how I believe Dante would have structured these stratum:
Texas Hell: The Texans described above whose sins were not paid for would each be given jobs in the New Jersey Tourism Bureau. All of their customers would be either the other sort of Texans (a.k.a. 'realists') looking to get away from "that awful place", or others who would describe in length how they wanted a vacation that wouldn't be like last summer's - "the worst vacation ever" - the one they took in Texas. The job of the tourism bureau worker would then be to agree with them one hundred percent, and then to give them a spiel about all the wonders of suburban New Jersey.
Texas Heaven: Ironically, what would probably be used as Texas Heaven already exists today. You guessed it: all of the elect lonestarists would be moved to Arizona. I can see these heavenly bodies, capped with cowboy hats, twanging exclamations such as "It's like a heavenly Texas - so much more beautiful, and without the smell!" One may object - "I've been to Arizona, and I don't like it near as much as Texas." Dante (I believe) would reply, "Yes, some vestments of your Flesh still remain, and when you are changed, your eyes will be opened. (It's hard to grow up around people as described and not start to believe what you're told, despite the evidence.)" It also must be noted, if Arizona was indeed employed, undoubtably Tucson would be cut out, and a large lake or something placed in the void.
I'm not sure where in the hierarchies these levels would be respectivley placed. If you think you know where, please, do tell.
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| Hmmm, don't have a whole lot to say - thought I'd just put up a couple tidbits.... First off, I saw a kind of modern day Samson-related situation yesterday. Many times military vehicles are placed near targets points to see what damage the shrapnel from a missile blast will do to them. There was a particular vehicle that I saw yesterday that had a mammoth inert missile on it (they don't generally put live explosives at target points!). It was clear that this vehicle had been used in a test or two - it lay seemingly lifeless, with no hope of reviving it, like a great metal Ceasar on its senate floor, each of its gaping pores a shocking reminder of what metal can do when combined with ill intention. Climbing on top, nonetheless, it became evident that some life yet remained - out of one of the larger holes in the missile itself buzzed in and out a steady stream of bees. This is when I was reminded of Samsons riddle, which had just been recast before my eyes in a sort of modern-day rendition: Out of the eater came something to eat,
Out of the strong came something sweet I must admit in all honesty that I didn't stick my hand in probing around for honey, but that is what I was reminded of, so there you have it. Also, I thought I'd share a line that I thought was kind of humorous from the book I'm reading (sort of true in a cynical way - ah British humour. The book itself is rather sad, FYI). It feels instinctively that manners are of more importance than morals, and, in its opinion, the highest respectability is of much less value than the possession of a good chef. And, after all, it is a very poor consolation to be told that the man who has given one a bad dinner, or poor wine, is irreproachable in his private life.
That is all for now, I suppose you and I must both get back to work, eh? | | |
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