Her identity went up in smoke.

So I just got back from a big ol' family wedding in Lanett, Alabama. I want to share just a few things about the event.

(1) Another woman gave away her identity. What do I mean? Well both the bride and the groom, my cousin, have ranks in the Air Force. They are both pilots. The bride's dad is a general in the Air National Guard. When the invitation was sent out my cousin's rank was listed, the Generals' rank was listed, but the brides was not. Then during the wedding they lit a unity candle, a ritual that I really hate, but can deal with except when the couple blow out their individual candles which in this case they did. So apparently now they are just one being. And that one being is my cousin Jonathan. Because when they were introduced at the end of the service they were introduced as Capt. & Mrs. Jonathan Ballard. And in the program their future address was listed as Capt. & Mrs. Jonathan Ballard. I wanted to scream out her name is Emily. But apparently she doesn't care.

(2) The toilets in the women's bathroom at the country club where the reception held stopped working. And the light bulb blew. Apparently the water pressure of washing dishes was too much for the system. So what did they do? They brought in a bucket of water to pour into the tanks. And my aunt took in some candles. So in a dimly lit room, in semi-formal attire women had to pour a bucket of water into the toilets. How awesome is that?

(3) Finally, on the flight back. I get on the airplane and there is a woman in my seat. And I say to her you are in my seat. She says no. Now I know what seat I am supposed to be in. I select my seats in advance. I always select an aisle seat. So I say to her yes I am on the aisle. (It is a two seat row, window and aisle.) I show her my ticket. And it eventually becomes evident to me that she doesn't speak much English if any. She is dressed in what I think is probably African dress--don't know what country. Anyway she pulls out her ticket and sure enough she is supposed to be in the window seat. So I point to the window seat and she moves over. And then I get settled and sit down in my seat. That is when it happened. She hit my knee. Not with her knee or her purse, she reached over and slapped my knee. Now it could have been considered an I-don't-speak-English-nice-little-apology pat, but I think she was actually hitting me. (My friend Blythe might suggest that I'm living in judgement instead of grace, but I think she was hitting me.) Then the whole flight she was a complete armrest hog.

Those are not necessarily the highlights of the trip. But they are definitely some of the most memorable.

Happy Father's Day

I'm thinking about Dad's today. Specifically, I'm thinking about the fact that my niece and nephews are missing their father today. So I talked with them. It was good. The tombstone was place on the grave this week. It is interesting that they don't even call them tombstones anymore, instead it is a grave marker. Boy do we want to sanitize death.

So anyway I'm grateful for my Dad. I'm grateful that I have had a long time to know him. Granted, he has made me crazy much of my adult life, but still I am grateful that he is still around. (My parents celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary yesterday.) I was particularly grateful today for what he has taught me, how to change a flat tire. I got in the car this morning to move it so I could get to the washing machine and I noticed that it was leaning to the left. Since my garage is level and not slanted I thought this wasn't quite right. And sure enough a tire was flat. I had apparently run over a nail.

I remember when my Dad taught me how to change a tire. It was my junior year of high school. My friend Ingrid and I had gone to take a picture for the yearbook. It was the cheerleader's group picture. Anyway we were driving my dad's big white pick-up truck. As we were leaving I ran over a curb and that was all it took. I blew the tire and I had no idea how to change it. So I called my Dad who came to the rescue. But really he came to teach me how. You know the buy a man a fish he eats for a day, etc.... So he taught me how and I've never forgotten. And I've changed a number of tires since, including one in a large suburban at 2 am in the middle of the dark Georgia woods. But that is another story for another day.

So today I'll say thanks Dad.

Peace out!

The icee

Every Sunday, my family gathers at my Maternal Grandmother's house for lunch. When I was young we all went to the same church and then we would get in our cars and go to her house. We ate at her house two times a week, Sunday afternoons and Tuesday nights. Tuesday was her day off from her job at Woolworth so we always had fried chicken on Tuesday night because she had all day. But on Sunday we had a ham or a roast because she could put it in the oven before church and set a timer and by the time we got there it would be done. My brother and I always wanted to ride with our grandparents from church to their house because we always knew that my Grandfather would stop at the convenience store on the way. I can't remember what the name of the store was--it wasn't a 7-11--just a generic quick stop. We always got an icee. And as I remember there were usually only 2 flavors, coke and some other flavor that I think was almost always something red. I think I always went for the red flavor. I have said many times that food holds and carries our collective stories. And for me an icee is one of those foods because it holds a memory of now two people who are no longer alive, my grandfather and my brother.
Although, I'm not sure you can call an icee food. And here is why I say that today. I read a blog of a friend of mine today who wrote about getting an icee at Target recently. (When I was in Atlanta my friend Mary Sue and I would often get an icee at the Target as well. The flavor was something like cherry ice--it was white.) So I had to go to Target today and I thought I'll get an icee as well--you know it holding memories and such. I got the cherry coke flavor. The woman at the counter gave me a cup and I got the domed shape lid with the hole in the top, the nipple portion of the lid. And I proceeded to fill up the cup with the icee. I filled it up and started to grab a straw and the icee began flooding out of the cup. It was like a volcanic eruption except it didn't shoot up in the air like those coke/mentos videos on Youtube. And it just kept going. It was all over my hand, all over the counter. I finally put the cup back on the dispenser drain and let it do its thing while I cleaned up the spill. But here is my question: what is in the icee that makes it expand? I watch a whole lot of This Old House and other such shows and there is an insulation material that does the same thing. It goes into the walls and then expands. But this theoretically should just have some soda syrup and ice right? Whatever it is that's just not right.
But it tasted kind of good, but not as good as I remember from when my brother and I would rush into the convenience store. Actually, if I'm honest I'm feeling a little gross now. Maybe some things are better left as memories.

Peace out.

Johnny, Alvin, and Global Warming

It is Saturday night and I am not preaching tomorrow. It always feels a little bit weird not to preparing a sermon--not necessarily bad just weird. I'm doing a blue Christmas service tomorrow--it is a service where we acknowledge that with all of the joy that this season brings it also comes with many dark aspects as well. For many it holds great sadness and grief. So we'll name that in worship tomorrow. It will include lots of time for meditation and silence. And that means no sermon from me.
So what have I done today in place of sermon preparation? Well I've done a lot of what I normally do on Saturday--nothing. I woke up and listened to the radio. I love, love, Saturday morning NPR. Weekend Edition with Scott Simon. Car Talk. Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! Seriously love it, even though the wait, wait was a montage of previous guests. They didn't tape this week because of the holiday. Then this afternoon I saw Sweeny Todd. It was really good. And I was a little hesitant about a singing Johnny Depp. But yeah, good. Definitely worth seeing. Although, be forewarned it is a bit gory. As you would expect if you know the story. But the blood is cartoonish.
When I was in Florida I saw Alvin and the Chipmunks with the nieces and nephews. All I will say is that I think the kids liked it.
I had a good time in Florida. i ate a lot of really bad food--that was really, really good! For those of you who live in cold climates, it was so not that in Florida. Sunny and warm. I wore shorts and t-shirts most days. Some of you may say that doesn't feel like Christmas, but I grew up in Florida so it feels for the most part like Christmas to me. Although, I do remember colder Christmases. It's an inconvenient truth.
Which reminds me of something. Somehow my cousins and I were joking about melting ice caps and droughts, etc. I know funny stuff right? Anyway, my aunts pipe in I think the Lord has it all under control. I tried to pipe in that we were appointed care takers for the earth but by that time they had already moved on to something else. But seriously, I just think that is so crazy to just think oh we don't have to worry about global warning because God has it all under control. Perhaps, I'm just thinking, oh maybe God wanted us to have it all under control. And I don't think we've done that great of a job. Oh well. That is my family.

Alright, well that is it for tonight. It is kind of cool and rainy here so I'm going to heat up some soup and settle in for the night.

Peace out!