(editor's note - no more comments please on this post - thanks!)
Yay! It's Halloween! I love, love, LOVE Halloween!!!
Cutie lil kidlets, dressed up like lions, punkins and fairies. They work their way up my front porch stairs, trying to get their short, chubby legs around their capes and tails. Big eyes stare up at me, a silent secret shared between us, that they don't quite understand why their parents are telling them to talk to me, a stranger, on this one day of the year.
I smile back, secretly reassuring them that I know exactly what they mean. At their parents' prodding, they hold up their bag, with the top folding in on itself. Their lips move ... a whispered "twikotwee" ... and then wide-eyed wonder as I drop a handful of candy into the bag.
Another silent exchange. "Is that it? Have we completed this ritual?"
From the bottom of the stairs - "What do you say? Did you say thank you to the nice lady?"
A few more whispered syllables, and they turn, trying not to trip over their tail or cape as they go back down the stairs.
I take mental pictures all night long, because to take real pictures tips the balance of trust, turns me into an unsafe stranger. So I enjoy the moment for what it is, doling out candy as the evening goes on, as the kids become older and unaccompanied by parents.
The last one is always a teenager who calls his hat his costume, is old enough to shave and refuses to say "trick or treat". That's when I go inside and turn out the lights.
Halloween is over for another year.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
sounds in the dark
This morning, I decided to come in early. Sometimes it really helps on a Sunday, to arrive a couple of hours before everyone else - it means I can get my head on in quiet, before the action starts.
So I came about 7 this morning. It was still dark. Due to our renovations, which are almost (but not quite) finished, there is no light switch inside the door. In fact, you have to unlock the door, go inside, turn off the alarm, walk upstairs, around a corner, through a fire door, and then grope around for the wall switch to turn on a light.
Have I mentioned that we haven't been in this space long enough for me to know the sounds? Or for my hand to automatically know where light switches are?
When I drove into the parking lot, I noticed a light was on in one of the offices, but no other cars in the lot. A bit odd, but no big deal. Went inside, punched in the code for the alarm, turned to go up the dark stairs ... and heard a distinct rustling sound.
Instantly I remembered the light in the office. Someone's in there! Is someone working in there? Or is someone robbing us blind? No doubt they've heard me by now ... do I walk up those stairs blindly, stupidly? Do I instead head down into the dark basement - no, that's definitely not a smart move.
Then I remembered the alarm. I remembered that I was the one who was involved in getting that alarm installed, and I know where the motion detectors are. Mentally reviewed that information, and came to the conclusion that there's no way anyone is in the offices - they would have set the alarm off.
So what was that rustling sound? And then terror gripped my heart. For I knew what it was.
Let me backtrack.
Several weeks ago, the alarm went off in the middle of the night. Upon inspection, a banana peel was found halfway down a flight of stairs. Either a bat flew through and dropped it, setting off the motion detectors. Or a really big mouse.
And then, one of our hardworking volunteers reported that he had seen a timbit in a bag being pulled down a hole in the kitchen. His opinion was that a little mouse couldn't pull a timbit in a bag. But a larger rodent could.
Thus my terror. There's no one in the offices. But there WAS a rustling sound. And it can only be one thing. A big, mean, disease-ridden, beady-eyed, people-eating rodent, waiting for me in the dark on those stairs. And of course, it knows I'm here. And it may run away. Or it may, in the darkness and panic, mistake my leg for something to be climbed, and if that happens, baby - well, you can forget your Sunday services, because it will be at least Tuesday before my hysteria subsides.
I went back outside. Took a deep breath. Realized there's nothing to do, but to go in. So I went back inside. Glanced again at the alarm panel. Turned once more to go up the stairs - and heard the very same, distinct rustling sound.
And that, my friends, is when I discovered that it was not a rodent.
Not a robber.
No.
It was my pant leg brushing against the wall.
So I came about 7 this morning. It was still dark. Due to our renovations, which are almost (but not quite) finished, there is no light switch inside the door. In fact, you have to unlock the door, go inside, turn off the alarm, walk upstairs, around a corner, through a fire door, and then grope around for the wall switch to turn on a light.
Have I mentioned that we haven't been in this space long enough for me to know the sounds? Or for my hand to automatically know where light switches are?
When I drove into the parking lot, I noticed a light was on in one of the offices, but no other cars in the lot. A bit odd, but no big deal. Went inside, punched in the code for the alarm, turned to go up the dark stairs ... and heard a distinct rustling sound.
Instantly I remembered the light in the office. Someone's in there! Is someone working in there? Or is someone robbing us blind? No doubt they've heard me by now ... do I walk up those stairs blindly, stupidly? Do I instead head down into the dark basement - no, that's definitely not a smart move.
Then I remembered the alarm. I remembered that I was the one who was involved in getting that alarm installed, and I know where the motion detectors are. Mentally reviewed that information, and came to the conclusion that there's no way anyone is in the offices - they would have set the alarm off.
So what was that rustling sound? And then terror gripped my heart. For I knew what it was.
Let me backtrack.
Several weeks ago, the alarm went off in the middle of the night. Upon inspection, a banana peel was found halfway down a flight of stairs. Either a bat flew through and dropped it, setting off the motion detectors. Or a really big mouse.
And then, one of our hardworking volunteers reported that he had seen a timbit in a bag being pulled down a hole in the kitchen. His opinion was that a little mouse couldn't pull a timbit in a bag. But a larger rodent could.
Thus my terror. There's no one in the offices. But there WAS a rustling sound. And it can only be one thing. A big, mean, disease-ridden, beady-eyed, people-eating rodent, waiting for me in the dark on those stairs. And of course, it knows I'm here. And it may run away. Or it may, in the darkness and panic, mistake my leg for something to be climbed, and if that happens, baby - well, you can forget your Sunday services, because it will be at least Tuesday before my hysteria subsides.
I went back outside. Took a deep breath. Realized there's nothing to do, but to go in. So I went back inside. Glanced again at the alarm panel. Turned once more to go up the stairs - and heard the very same, distinct rustling sound.
And that, my friends, is when I discovered that it was not a rodent.
Not a robber.
No.
It was my pant leg brushing against the wall.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
giant
Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean - Dennis Hopper too, although you may not have recognized him. They were all in our living room last night. They stayed for several hours. At one point, Spike tried to politely extricate himself from the conversation, because it did tend to meander, and there wasn't a hint of hockey talk all the live-long evening. But he stayed, out of consideration for me.
He's nice that way.
Anyway - a commercial-free, classic movie over pizza and diet Coke - phone didn't even ring once - a very satisfying Friday night.
He's nice that way.
Anyway - a commercial-free, classic movie over pizza and diet Coke - phone didn't even ring once - a very satisfying Friday night.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
oof!
Yesterday, I got "ooofed" several times in a row.
I was stopping in to see a family that I'm just getting to know, and some of the most adorable children you have ever seen met me at the door. And I do mean, at the door. I finally managed to squeeze inside, and just sat right down in the entryway to have some meaningful conversation with them.
Delight all around!
They brought me their toys and books, sizing up my lap all the while. The oldest one reported their official stats regarding their names and ages, and I nodded seriously, expressing my thanks for the information.
Finally, I managed to get myself to a couch, and they clambered up on my lap, one on each knee, the last one trying not to look disappointed that I didn't have a third knee available.
The youngest one was on and off several times a minute, which really made me laugh. And you can imagine how pastoral and dignified I felt each time that solid little diapered body climbed up and PLOPPED down on my stomach, causing an involuntary "oof" to come flying out of my mouth.
Fortunately, I'm the kind of pastor that thinks dignity is over-rated.
But I'll try to scrounge up some solemn dignity for the conference I'm heading to next week.
Wish me luck!
I was stopping in to see a family that I'm just getting to know, and some of the most adorable children you have ever seen met me at the door. And I do mean, at the door. I finally managed to squeeze inside, and just sat right down in the entryway to have some meaningful conversation with them.
Delight all around!
They brought me their toys and books, sizing up my lap all the while. The oldest one reported their official stats regarding their names and ages, and I nodded seriously, expressing my thanks for the information.
Finally, I managed to get myself to a couch, and they clambered up on my lap, one on each knee, the last one trying not to look disappointed that I didn't have a third knee available.
The youngest one was on and off several times a minute, which really made me laugh. And you can imagine how pastoral and dignified I felt each time that solid little diapered body climbed up and PLOPPED down on my stomach, causing an involuntary "oof" to come flying out of my mouth.
Fortunately, I'm the kind of pastor that thinks dignity is over-rated.
But I'll try to scrounge up some solemn dignity for the conference I'm heading to next week.
Wish me luck!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
alarm clock
I was looking at my alarm clock this morning. Of course, I look at it every morning just before I slam it into silence, but today, I looked at it a little longer. And I realized - I have no idea how long I have had this little clock, but it's been a long time. There's a good possibility that it's been waking me up for a quarter of a century...or more.
When did I get old enough to make statements like that?!!!?!!
If this faithful little piece of outdated technology could speak, it could tell you things. It could tell you of my passionate teenage devotion to various boys who owned pick-up trucks. (They didn't know, of course - it was mostly one-sided.) It could tell you of perms gone wild ... bright blue eyeshadow ... multiple ropes of coloured beads with teddy bear sweatshirts and harem pants.
That clock has been there through it all. Moving from a small town to a city ... after-school jobs .... piano lessons.
It has lived in a basement apartment with leopard-skin curtains and an odour of fried liver and onions.
It has lived in residence with me and a roommate whose Newfoundland accent was so thick, neither of us knew what the other was saying.
It has, of course, lived in the apartment building with Spike and I as newlyweds, where people set garbage on fire in the halls.
That clock was there when we almost bought a house, didn't, almost bought another house, didn't, moved into my parents' basement, and finally bought another house - all within a 6-month period.
And I find myself obligated to make an old-person statement. I don't want to.
But I've told you about my unforgiving iPod.
And I've told you about my unreliable coffee grinder. (Which, by the way, has had to be replaced AGAIN.)
And I consider that Spike was trying to replace a part on the computer on Saturday, but that part just couldn't be found, because it is ARCHAIC, it is OLD, it is - gasp - 4 years old!!!
And I must make this statement.
They don't make things like they used to.
I don't know who "they" are. And I don't know why "they" don't make things like they used to. Maybe "they" are tired. Maybe "they" got laid off because they made an alarm clock that lasted too long, and I never bought another one. Or maybe my little alarm clock is a freak, an engineering anomaly. Maybe I could sell it on eBay for a gazillion dollars.
Of course, a gazillion dollars would only buy me a new little alarm clock with a nasty iPod attitude and coffee grinder unreliability, and then I wouldn't get up in the morning, and my life would be in serious trouble.
I guess I'll keep it.
That, and my twenty-year-old popcorn popper.
When did I get old enough to make statements like that?!!!?!!
If this faithful little piece of outdated technology could speak, it could tell you things. It could tell you of my passionate teenage devotion to various boys who owned pick-up trucks. (They didn't know, of course - it was mostly one-sided.) It could tell you of perms gone wild ... bright blue eyeshadow ... multiple ropes of coloured beads with teddy bear sweatshirts and harem pants.
That clock has been there through it all. Moving from a small town to a city ... after-school jobs .... piano lessons.
It has lived in a basement apartment with leopard-skin curtains and an odour of fried liver and onions.
It has lived in residence with me and a roommate whose Newfoundland accent was so thick, neither of us knew what the other was saying.
It has, of course, lived in the apartment building with Spike and I as newlyweds, where people set garbage on fire in the halls.
That clock was there when we almost bought a house, didn't, almost bought another house, didn't, moved into my parents' basement, and finally bought another house - all within a 6-month period.
And I find myself obligated to make an old-person statement. I don't want to.
But I've told you about my unforgiving iPod.
And I've told you about my unreliable coffee grinder. (Which, by the way, has had to be replaced AGAIN.)
And I consider that Spike was trying to replace a part on the computer on Saturday, but that part just couldn't be found, because it is ARCHAIC, it is OLD, it is - gasp - 4 years old!!!
And I must make this statement.
They don't make things like they used to.
I don't know who "they" are. And I don't know why "they" don't make things like they used to. Maybe "they" are tired. Maybe "they" got laid off because they made an alarm clock that lasted too long, and I never bought another one. Or maybe my little alarm clock is a freak, an engineering anomaly. Maybe I could sell it on eBay for a gazillion dollars.
Of course, a gazillion dollars would only buy me a new little alarm clock with a nasty iPod attitude and coffee grinder unreliability, and then I wouldn't get up in the morning, and my life would be in serious trouble.
I guess I'll keep it.
That, and my twenty-year-old popcorn popper.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Thanksgiving upset
Yes, Rick, it's Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. (Otherwise known as your daughter's wedding weekend - nice pics, btw!)
Our Thanksgiving tradition includes Monopoly. It all started with me and Dad. I was taught at a young age to be ruthless in Monopoly, and now we are passing it on to the next generation. We play by the rules. No "free parking" money in our home. No compassion. We are not gracious winners. Greed rules all.
Except this time.
J-Blue and the Beaner joined in. Punk was there too, but he's played before, and he understands that there is no room for love or grace. He laughs a lot, but only to disguise the cold capitalist philosophies developing within.
Meanwhile, J-Blue refused to get in the spirit of it. She's far too nice. Couldn't have cared less about collecting rent -and at one point, she sold a property for a kiss from her Dad.
The Beaner lucked out, landing on both Park Place and Boardwalk right near the start, thus gaining the upper hand completely by a fluke. He was more pleased, however, with the number of bills in his hand. Note - it was the number that pleased him, not their value. He would rather have twenty 1-dollar bills, then a single 500-dollar bill, and he focused all of his efforts on gathering all the 1-dollar bills he could.
Drove us crazy. We decided to wait them out, knowing they couldn't possibly survive long, and once they were out, we could move on with the REAL game of Monopoly.
Dad was out first, in a surprising turn of events. Did his best to buy up properties, but never really got the opportunity, and ran out of cash.
Punk and I partnered up, which kept him in the game a little longer, but then he landed on Boardwalk, and he was out too.
It was down to the four of us - me, J-Blue, the Beaner, and their Dad, my B-I-L. The game stretched out longer and longer, with J-Blue giving things away left, right and centre, and the Beaner starting to fall asleep, only waking up long enough to call out "RENT!" at random moments.
They won.
We don't know how. It falls entirely outside the natural order of Monopoly, and I, for one, find the whole thing deeply disturbing. It's like some weird shift in the earth's gravitational pull took place, changing the very essence of the game. What's next? No turkey at Thanksgiving dinner? Or will our family start drinking - gasp - decaf?
No one knows. But I tell you this - Monopoly will never be the same.
Our Thanksgiving tradition includes Monopoly. It all started with me and Dad. I was taught at a young age to be ruthless in Monopoly, and now we are passing it on to the next generation. We play by the rules. No "free parking" money in our home. No compassion. We are not gracious winners. Greed rules all.
Except this time.
J-Blue and the Beaner joined in. Punk was there too, but he's played before, and he understands that there is no room for love or grace. He laughs a lot, but only to disguise the cold capitalist philosophies developing within.
Meanwhile, J-Blue refused to get in the spirit of it. She's far too nice. Couldn't have cared less about collecting rent -and at one point, she sold a property for a kiss from her Dad.
The Beaner lucked out, landing on both Park Place and Boardwalk right near the start, thus gaining the upper hand completely by a fluke. He was more pleased, however, with the number of bills in his hand. Note - it was the number that pleased him, not their value. He would rather have twenty 1-dollar bills, then a single 500-dollar bill, and he focused all of his efforts on gathering all the 1-dollar bills he could.
Drove us crazy. We decided to wait them out, knowing they couldn't possibly survive long, and once they were out, we could move on with the REAL game of Monopoly.
Dad was out first, in a surprising turn of events. Did his best to buy up properties, but never really got the opportunity, and ran out of cash.
Punk and I partnered up, which kept him in the game a little longer, but then he landed on Boardwalk, and he was out too.
It was down to the four of us - me, J-Blue, the Beaner, and their Dad, my B-I-L. The game stretched out longer and longer, with J-Blue giving things away left, right and centre, and the Beaner starting to fall asleep, only waking up long enough to call out "RENT!" at random moments.
They won.
We don't know how. It falls entirely outside the natural order of Monopoly, and I, for one, find the whole thing deeply disturbing. It's like some weird shift in the earth's gravitational pull took place, changing the very essence of the game. What's next? No turkey at Thanksgiving dinner? Or will our family start drinking - gasp - decaf?
No one knows. But I tell you this - Monopoly will never be the same.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Thursday, October 09, 2008
we have a winner!
Yes! You guessed it! The newest blog on my blog list belongs to none other than my cousin who is a Famous-Children's-Author.
All the rest of us cousins dwell in her shadow.
No we don't.
We're all pretty secure in our own lives.
We just like to give her a hard time.
Kelly - I know where to find you - watch for your prize in the mail!!
All the rest of us cousins dwell in her shadow.
No we don't.
We're all pretty secure in our own lives.
We just like to give her a hard time.
Kelly - I know where to find you - watch for your prize in the mail!!
Monday, October 06, 2008
introducing...
Thursday Edit: Some good guesses, but no one has got it yet. A hint - I've mentioned this person here and here. And if you head over to that new blog today, there's a hint that connects with those first two hints. Isn't this exciting??!! I should give a prize, shouldn't I? OK...a Timmie's card to the first person who gets it! (Not counting the two who said they already knew)
There's a new blog in town.
Well, not in town. Actually, a significant distance from my town.
It's here - anyone want to take a guess at the connection?
Course, I may not tell....
But you can try to guess!
There's a new blog in town.
Well, not in town. Actually, a significant distance from my town.
It's here - anyone want to take a guess at the connection?
Course, I may not tell....
But you can try to guess!
Sunday, October 05, 2008
my window
Aaahhhhh - the first Sunday morning service in the new space is finished.
I've had lunch.
Back in my office now, looking out my window. Can't crash yet - another service in a couple of hours - but I can relax for a few minutes.
Have I mentioned I have windows in my office? Two! Old windows, with dirt that has become part of their DNA, but still - windows! Big windows!
From one, I can look into the parking lot to see if the hypothetical person banging on the door outside is someone I know. That's a good thing.
From the other, right in front of my desk, I can look at all the bright chrysanthemums that my friend Dave planted two days ago, without any of us even knowing it was going to happen. They are big and colourful and beautiful, and they are feeding my soul.
He also put two big planters at each entrance, to welcome all of us here this morning. It was the perfect touch.
Aaahhhhh.
I've had lunch.
Back in my office now, looking out my window. Can't crash yet - another service in a couple of hours - but I can relax for a few minutes.
Have I mentioned I have windows in my office? Two! Old windows, with dirt that has become part of their DNA, but still - windows! Big windows!
From one, I can look into the parking lot to see if the hypothetical person banging on the door outside is someone I know. That's a good thing.
From the other, right in front of my desk, I can look at all the bright chrysanthemums that my friend Dave planted two days ago, without any of us even knowing it was going to happen. They are big and colourful and beautiful, and they are feeding my soul.
He also put two big planters at each entrance, to welcome all of us here this morning. It was the perfect touch.
Aaahhhhh.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
progress report
My office is unpacked and clean. Actually, it has been cleaned a few times, because every time it got cleaned up, someone else installed something in the ceiling, dirt and plaster fell, and it had to be vacuumed yet again.
Props and thanks to those wonderful people who kept coming in and vacumming for me!!!
And I have two windows! A corner office! With oddly green and cushy carpet!!
New phone system - installed.
New alarm system - installed.
Internet - connected to the main office, to be networked in the next few days.
And this is the most exciting thing....
Today, if all goes according to plan, there will be REAL WASHROOMS.
As opposed to the toilet-in-one-room, tap-sticking-out-of-the-wall-in-another-room scenario that has been the case for a few months.
That will be nice. Even if we still have to wear hardhats when we go down there.
Props and thanks to those wonderful people who kept coming in and vacumming for me!!!
And I have two windows! A corner office! With oddly green and cushy carpet!!
New phone system - installed.
New alarm system - installed.
Internet - connected to the main office, to be networked in the next few days.
And this is the most exciting thing....
Today, if all goes according to plan, there will be REAL WASHROOMS.
As opposed to the toilet-in-one-room, tap-sticking-out-of-the-wall-in-another-room scenario that has been the case for a few months.
That will be nice. Even if we still have to wear hardhats when we go down there.
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