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23
August 2000
Dear Guy I Gave Money To The Other Day,
I sure hope you really used my three dollars for bus fare, and
maybe a bite to eat, like you said and not to further some
unsavory and self-destructive habit. I figure you probably
didn't, but I don't care. I'm just writing this to let you know
that I know. You didn't snow me. If it was a story, your story
didn't work. So there. I'm not just another rube.
I simply decided it was not my job to judge you on your future
actions. I decided to let God sort it out later. My faith tells
me to see Jesus in everyone and I figure if Jesus asked me for a
few bucks, I'd give it to him.
If you lied to me, then I'm a fool. I'm not afraid of being a
fool. What I'm afraid of is slowly losing my compassion due to
lack of use. I hope you get where you're going, dude. I hope my
three dollars got you closer to wherever that is.
Via con Dios,
Cody
I finally finished that damn conference at my Church. Hooray! Twas well-received and everybody had a good time. I think what we produced is pretty good, too.
I'm not done though. I still have to condense a weekend's worth of marker-on-flip-chart scribbling into some sort of coherent document by, well, tomorrow when Fr. Dominic gets back. We're going to distribute the resulting vision to the Parish this weekend at the ministry fair. Apparently, I'm still the vision guy. Which I guess is good since I now have a degree in the subject of vision. And I want to do this futures stuff for churches and all.
I am trying a new strategy in meeting my life needs -- combining. I have decided I have absolutely no extra time to go work out or sit and meditate on any kind of a regular basis right now. I got tennis lessons for my birthday that I have officially given up on even thinking about trying to cash in on. Can't get away in the evening when the lessons are offered and I don't know anyone who offers tennis lessons before 7 a.m. So, to get my exercise, I'm going to combine the time it takes with other stuff I do, like getting to work. I'm biking to work now or at least trying to do it three or four times a week. It's not much of a work out, but it's better than no exercise. Combining. I'm also going to try walking at work. I work in a freakin' long building. A coupla laps around it would actually be a good exercise break. Combining. I'm already at work, I could actually do work while I'm walking, and it's in the air conditioned building so it takes less time. (In Texas for about eight months of the year, you have to add at least a half hour onto any outdoor exercise, even walking, for the necessary shower afterwards.) Combining. I can't create any extra time for meditation, so fine, I'll do it at my computer here at work. I've given up on the idea of relaxing meditation with candles and incense on any regular basis at home. I do have some resources here at work that I can use for daily scripture, I have good relaxing spiritual music and headphones, and even a guided contemplative prayer website that I can use for ten-minute meditations. That will have to do for now. Something is better than nothing. So I'll never be an athlete or a contemplative by doubling up with other stuff, but I look forward to a time when my life is not so taken up with other stuff. It's like back in college having to make do with ramen noodles and mac and cheese with the understanding that in a few years I wouldn't have to make do anymore. Meanwhile, I'll just have to deal.
Now if I can just figure out how to combine my art with doing housework....
28
July 2000
After a stressed and hectic week of dealing with GirlZilla's impending trip and a nasty case of head lice brought back by Thing 1 and Thing 2 from one of their family visits, things are calming down a bit. GirlZilla is finally off to Girl Scout camp and, from her letter, having "too much fun." Her only complaint is that it is too dark at night and that she misses her mommy (awwwww). We are finally getting some recognition of the twins' challenging status -- we got some attention from the caseworkers, some evaluations, and some babbysitting money so Heidi does not go crazy. Head Start (thanks to all of you that support it) starts August 9th and it will be great for them, I'm sure. For Heidi this is the first light at the end of this tunnel that is summer (that is not an oncoming train). She is much more cheerful this week than last.
At the height of the lice infestation, the potty training revolt (another story entirely, you don't want to know.), and getting GirlZilla off to camp, I packed it up for three days and went to the World Futures Society Conference here in Houston. You might ask, "Didn't you feel guilty going off and leaving your wife to deal with all that mess and hassle?" To which I might answer, "Well, duh." But I was committed months in advance. And it was a once in a lifetime chance to attend for basically free -- no travel or registration expense. So I sucked up my guilt and tried to reserve my angst and worry for the coffee breaks. I was only moderately successful.
After the conference though, I was really glad I went. My group's presentation was well attended and well received. I met lots of really interesting futurists, some of whom may well be critical to my future professional development. I even obtained some leads as to a future futures-oriented career path. Not that I don't love software engineering, mind you. (okay, "love" is a bit strong, but it is a great job.) But if a job at a think-tank or something fell in my lap, I'd take it.
I am so presenting again next year. I just gotta think of an idea.
I spent a lot of time hanging around the religious futurists, as I consider myself one of sorts, even tho I'm a beginner still. There's this group called the World Network of Religious Futurists. With a name like that you'd think there'd be more of them, but they seem to be a smallish organization. All throughout the conference people remarked about the increased amount of religious material presented, and there was a lot presented, but it was mostly by regular futurists who happened to be talking about religion, not necessarily those who call themselves "religious futurists". Most of those guys' presentations appeared to be "ghettoized" to the 24th floor of the hotel -- almost guaranteeing low attendance. I was puzzled for a while about this and then I realized what was up. The ones who got to present on the main floor and in the prominent spots were not religious people -- they were projecting about every future for churches except for the ones where churches maintain a vital presence and maintain their core dogmas. The "religious futurists" who wanted to talk about how the churches can adapt and still be revitalized were not a popular voice. There was indeed a lot of talk about religion at the WFS conference, but religion itself was relegated to obsolescence.
Question is, do the "religious futurists" deserve it? I'm beginning to think they might. Unfortunately, the loudest religious futurist voice at the convention was the rather flighty Dr. Richard Kirby, head of the WNRF. He is fond of making pronouncements and proposals that sound real grand and all -- like an "academy of prayer" and a new futurist religious order and a youth futurist organization and... you get the idea. Any one of these would be someone's life work or at least a project that would require major fundraising and organizations and committees and stuff. One look at his web page will tell you he's a bit, um, unrealistic. He claims advertising, poetry, women's wealth, science fiction, and comedy among his many "product divisions." He appears to be a company of one. He is a seventies style futurist, still talking about science fiction and wanting to be a "chaplain to the stars" when most futurists are trying real hard to shake the whole whiz-bang science fiction association. When he starts to get into one of his pronouncements, I can sense that "ignoring the elephant in the room" feeling from many of the other WNRF members and I wonder if they are thinking what I am thinking, but are afraid to say it.
Anyway, I want to see serious futures studies dealing with religion -- primary research, scenarios, delphis -- and I don't think I'm going to find that in Dr. Kirby's monthly missives about how we should form this or that new bold institution of tomorrow. How 'bout we get just one idea going real good first? Whaddaya say?
Maybe all this is an unfair protrayal and I have only part of the picture, but Kirby made me mad when he interrupted my friend's already too short presentation to plug one of his own initiatives. In my mind he crossed some sort of professional line there. I'll still maintain the WNRF environmental scanning site because I think it's important work and I like the guy I'm working with. But otherwise I guess I'll save my dues money and apply it toward a subscription to Futures journal.
Too, futures wonky, huh? Well, what do you expect the week after I come back from the futures conference. I'll be less boring later, promise.
14 July 2000
Omigod. Three entries in one week . I'm in serious danger of setting myself up for dashed expectations. Remember, I'm not supposed to update until September.
Generally I'm all for intelligence and competence, especially on the job, but I have to give mad props to those barely-competent marketing and retail management folks out there. I mean, without them, places like the Dollar Store and MacFrugal's (motto: "Where bad marketing ideas go to die.") would contain nothing but crap. Why do I go to the local Dollar Tree when 98% of it is just junk and stuff that would cost only a dollar anywhere else? It's that other two percent that's why.
When some ne'er-do-well corporate buyer buys way too much of something or when some misguided marketing person figures they'll vary their formula a bit and try to reach a newer market and it flops, I reap the benefits. Fancy new soft drinks and high-end yuppie breakfast cereals show up at the discount store pretty often. Finding them is hit or miss, to be sure, but they are out there, coming to a MacFrugals or Big Lots near you.
I don't play the lottery and I don't buy scratch-offs. I satisfy my gambling urge by diving in discount bins and cheking out weird stuff from discount stores. I bet anything I have a better rate of return. That's how I got my Bobs record (an acapella singing quartet that does a mean version of Purple Haze and Whole Lotta Love), and my Art Car magnets, and my Where the Wind Blows video (this funky British animated movie about nuclear war). I've tried coffee flavored Fiddle Faddle (not as bad as it sounds), bottled Chai Latte (worse than it sounds), and chocolate intended (and originally priced) to save the rainforest. All of which I would never have tried had I had to pay more than a dollar for any of it.
I gotta tell you about last night's score. I got:
- real bristle paintbrushes -- Since I'm not a real artist, I don't buy real art supplies. Dollar store variety does me just fine. Although last night, they had what appeared to be the genuine kind of brush.
- a copy of "Hype!", a feature length documentary about the Seattle grunge scene with rare footage of groups like Mudhoney, Seven Year Bitch, the Young Fresh Fellows, and the very first performance of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana. Cool. I'm more into techno and acid jazz lately, but it made me want to dust off my "Nevermind" CD. And finally...
- an entire series of those "Illustrated Classics" comic books. I like comics and I like serious reading, so voila! two, two, two genres in one! They were 3 for a buck, so I bought every one they had. Like about twelve dollars worth. I loved those things as a kid, and now they're even better because they each have this Cliff Notes type section in the back telling you about the meaning of the comic you just read. Truly Nerd-a-licious. I love it.
So there you go. That's why I love you, you screw-ups of commerce. Hold your head high and know you have fans out there rooting for you. Do just good enough to keep from getting fired, though, okay?
13
July 2000
I'm feeling much better today, thanks. I got together with Fr. Dominic and we worked out a plan to make up for the fact that he won't be there. Actually, being the CEO so to speak, he cannot actually participate anyway. His presence is needed to convey the proper gravitas and authority needed to keep the participants from feeling like their efforts will come to no good use. I think we can do it without him, and he's not mad at me, so my screw up turns out to be only a medium sized one instead of a major bonehead-a-rama.
Heidi tells me that the psychiatrist thinks that Thing 1 and to a lesser extent Thing 2 suffer from Attachment Disorder. It's not official, cause I don't think a mere psychologist can make such a diagnosis definitively, but still. Attachment Disorder is some serious stuff. Suffers grow up to become criminals and stuff unless they get massive intervention early. Basically, we may be in over our heads. It doesn't feel so now, but as they get older and harder to control, who knows. For those of you out there that pray, please pray for our family and for the twins. For those of you that don't pray, send them happy thoughts or something. No three year olds should have to go thru what they've been through.
My technical lead came into my office and told me that my integration test deadline had been poushed back from Aug 1st to Sept 1st. Sweet. This doesn't mean I don't have to work overtime, but It does mean that I don't have to get the accompanying ulcer. Hooray for schedule slips.
I haven't had a chance to do my tennis lessons, which I received as a gift from my beloved for my birthday, and I haven't had time to do nought but a smidgen of art, and meditation has been long time gone. I need to get back to whence I came before I lose myself. I'll work on it.
12
July 2000
Well, what do you know? I'm back. I am majorly stressed, though. I'm writing this so that I can look back later and laugh or so I can look back later and marvel at what a worrying paranoid fool I am. Whatever.
Anyway, I have that project at work that has me worried whether it'll get done on time. That's because I can see where we need to be and see little day-to-day progress. I have to develop a presentation for the World Futures Society conference at the end of this month. And, of course, I have to work on the current bane of my existence, the St. Paul's Future Search conference.
I am in charge of the visioning and planning conference at my church solely and totally because I lack the ability to acknowledge my limits and say "no" when I'm asked to do something. I only went to the meeting to attend and observe my professor, Dr. Bishop. I sat in the back of the room, even. I was just there to kick in my two cents of futures wisom should it be needed. Then it was all like, "Come up to the table Cody." (I should have been worried at that point.) and then Fr. Dominic was all, "You'd be good to lead this. Volunteer, huh?"
So now I was chair of this conference had and I had no time to do crap. (This was while I was trying to graduate and we got two new foster kids. Dumb, huh?) In fact, the original date was postponed essentially because my shit was not together. Granted, people were not just leaping up to help out exactly, but it is the leader's job to inspire people to be that leaping help and I was not leading very well. So having bumbled my way to this point, having chosen a new date and gotten somewhat organized in my Cody way, I finally started feeling okay about this thing and that it might finally come off okay. That was until yesterday.
So when I set the new date, did I consider whether or not our pastor could attend? Hell, no. We chose the perfect date otherwise. But it turns out that we chose the one weekend where the most important individual could not attend. Damn. I suck. (Did I mention I found this out two hours after mailing all 150 invitations?)
So today I go to lunch with Fr. Dominic and get to tell him how I screwed up his conference and try to figure out how to salvage it. I'll keep you posted on how it goes.
Meanwhile, I've learned to stay at the back of the friggin' room next time. Sigh. Live and learn.
Thanks for letting me vent.
9
July 2000
Funny thing about this journaling.
There's this problem where you wanna get back to it but just don't feel like
you have lots of time to spare, see, so you figure you can only do it if you keep
the entries shorter than they have been. But then, the
longer you go without an update, the more stuff has happened, so there's
more to catch up on, so your first entry back will take more time, but you're short
on time, so you put it off some more, and then more stuff happens...
You get the idea
Well alot has happened. I graduated from school. We had a vacation (with four kids. oy.)
Thing 1 and Thing 2 had their third birthday. Mr. Freshpants started solid food
and started sitting up and rolling over. (He's so over the swing thing
now. That's so two months ago. Now his favorite thing is this bouncy chair that hangs
from a clamp over the doorway. He'll bounce for a solid hour, grinning like a fool. He also
kind likes his walker. It's like, "Cool, I have legs."
I also think he likes to sit upright. Now that I reflect on it, uprightness rules. I
can understand why he'd be excited.)
Okay, way too much has gone by since my last update. So I'm not even going to
try to catch you up. I'll just bore you with the minutiae of my current life. I worked six
hours today, Saturday, and I swear that, productivity-wise, one hour on a weekend or
evening is like one and a half on a normal business day. I've got too much work to do,
and for the first time in ever, my success is dependent on the performance of my co-workers.
I'm the team lead, so I'm the blamee, but this is the first project at work I've done where
I don't feel I can do it all if I need to to get this project done on time. It makes me
nervous.
I had my 35th birthday last Thursday the 6th. Whee. I don't feel middle-aged, but I
certainly look it. For my birthday, we went out to get my favorite, Vietnamese food,
and then came home to have a cake that Girlzilla made all by herself. From her
"My First Cookbook." From scratch. I could really taste the love that went into it,
but luckily I was able to get all the love in the first three bites. Nuff said.
Friday night my
wife and I went on a Birthday date. I chose to try out this new Thai barbecue place called
Buddha Bubba (couldn't resist the name) and then attend a poetry reading in the museum
district. Well, when we got to the poetry reading place, it was all close quarters and
crowded and looked just way too, um, adult. We were hoping to just slip in the back and have a position
beside the door in case Mr. Freshpants (we had him along) wanted to get vocal or
something. I got up to the threshold of the place and looked in and I realized what
I had forgotten. I forgot I was not hip. I forgot that I live in the suburbs and that I came in
a minivan and that I had a diaper bag on my arm. We were so un-poetry it was pathetic. We even
forgot to wear black. We'll go back soon though, and next time we'll get a sitter
for all the kids. We'll wear funky clothes and eschew all talk of children as if to pretend
that we are not bourgeois suburbanites looking for something out of the mainstream. We'll
park the minivan two blocks away and walk in so we don't give ourselves away. Yeah, that's it.
Real Soon...
I guess the key to this journaling thing, at least for me, is low expectations. Instead of trying to
write every day or so, I'll just set my sights on updating every few months. If I do it more often, great.
See you in September.
15
April 2000
Man,
if you don't keep this journaling thing up as a habit, it's hard to get
back to. I have an excuse, though. (here's my note...)
We've been very busy lately. Remeber when I said before that we might get
another foster child? We got another foster child. And he has a twin brother.
One way to throw a wrench into the well-oiled family machine is to bump
up the kid count from two to four in a matter of hours. These two, I'll
call them Thing1 and Thing2 (you gotta know your Dr. Seuss. I can quote
Fox in Socks almost verbatim.) They are the first foster kids we've had
that are old enough to have experienced some neglect and abuse and they're
also old enough to miss mommy and want to go home. This, for the first
time, really feels like we're foster parents.
You
know what I dislike most about being a foster parent? It's when people
say stuff to me like "You guys are such good people for doing this. I could
never do that myself." People assume that because we're willing to share
our lives with needy children that were some kind of saints or heros or
something. It's not like we don't miss our tranquility, crave sleep, and
just want to get away from children on occasion. I have those selfish impulses
that make me feel resentful of the intrusion that four children bring.
I imagine myself alone with Heidi -- childless -- often enough. I'm as
selfish as the next guy. The only thing that makes us different from you
or anyone else is that we said "yes." Sainthood is not required, just willingness.
Currently
we are reconstructing our family routine piece by piece. First we had to
reinvent bedtime, now we're working on Sunday morning which has always
been a challenge. Loading the car with children took five minutes at first.
Now we're down to three. We'll get there. But right now things are still
a bit topsy-turvy. Thing1 and Thing2 apparently did not have much of a
structured routine at their old home so they're experiencing much of it
for the first time. But they are generally polite in a two-year-old's way
and like to help and actually eat vegetables that you give them. Things
1 and 2 could be much worse. And it helps that they're cute little guys.
Mr. Freshpants looks like a real baby now, not like a little old man anymore.
He's 14 pounds and has a real amiable personality. His mom is doing good
so he may get to go home yet. But she's still got a long way to go. We'll
be glad to keep him until then.
GirlZilla is getting into summer swimming and is preparing for her first
communion at church. I'm going to graduate, by gum. And if I'm lucky, I'll
get to get back into my art a bit after I write my final report.
So much has happened during this hiatus that I can't write it all down.
That's what happens when you lay off for a while. Hopefully I'm back, but
I'm pacing myself.
15
March 2000
I'm
back. Not that anything has calmed down much. A lot happened whilst I was
away. I went into the hospital last weekend to prove that I didn't have
a heart attack. I didn't. Really. It was probably reflux or some such thing.
Lessee.... Oh yeah, Lent started. I gave up all drinks except for water
as my lenten fast. No caffeine. Had a nonstop 3-day headache, but now I
think I'm over it. I'm thinking about making the no caffeine thing permanent.
But that means I'd have to sleep more and I don't know if I have the time.
Would be healthier though, I guess.
I also,
as a general rule, gave up sweets. Especially at the office. It seems that
there's been some serious office candy dish escalation in recent years.
Used to be there was one or two people who had a little bowl of hard candy
to share with coworkers. Nowadays in my office there are at least three
places to get good candy. I'm talking chocolate and candy bars.
I was finding it hard to leave the damn things alone. That's what Lent's
for, I guess. I can report that -- so far so good -- I've kicked the office
sweets habit so far, and seriously cut back at home as well. It helps that
we got rid of all that stuff at home. I am living on Perrier and mints.
Doing well, but I really want a Diet Coke.
Signs
and Wonders is going strong now. I'm already ready to make the first
set of changes to the format and stuff. I got my confirmation of graduation,
pending completion of my project. May 9th. Can't wait.
27
February 2000
I realy
like writing in this journal. But, like a lot of other things I really
like -- doing art, playing sports, reading something besides abstracts
of journal articles -- I'm gonna hafta put overflow on hold for a while
until things cool down. If I want to graduate *and* keep my job *and* stay
married, I gotta cut some things back. I'll be back on March 15th, I promise.
24
February 2000
My
brother's biopsy turned out to be benign. I'm convinced it was my worrying
that made the difference.
We
had a great lunch the other day. We hadn't seen Fr. Lawrence in a while
and it was nice to catch up. As always, the food was great. I had the "Jerk
Marinated Grilled Pork Loin with Yucca Fries, Pineapple Salsa, Grilled
Asparagus, Scallion Vinaigrette and Sauteed Julienne Collard Greens." Yum.
(What is it about nicer restauraunts that makes them want to tell you all
the ingredients in the title of the dish? I mean, since they're posting
the ingredients, why don't they tell you how to make the dish as well?)
Afterwards I had time to hit my favorite spots -- Whole Foods Market and
a coffee house called Brasil. Then I went looking for Brother Jude.
Brother
Jude indeed has moved. He found work in Louisiana and is living at a church
there. He left some of his work behind in the hands of a local dealer who
is charging jacked-up prices for even his tiniest pieces. This guy wants
alot more than Brother Jude ever asked for his stuff. Too bad the dealer
didn't take a vow of poverty like Jude. Now, I don't mind paying for good
art from a new artist (when I can afford it), but Brother Jude's ministry
is to bring good (read: not hokey) Christian art back to the home and,
at those prices, the average home can't afford them. Brother Jude knew
we were on one income, so he usually cut us a deal. In return, we brought
him a fair amount of business via our friends. Well, via con dios, Jude.
Maybe we can get our parish to commission you someday.
Mr.
Freshpants got me up at 2:45 this morning, wanting to eat. He does this
every other week or so, it seems. It was before 3:00, which, according
to the 1999 Late Night Feeding Accords, meant it was Heidi who sould have
gotten up. I got up and fed him anyway, mainly because it was approaching
the Feeding Time Meridian and I figured I could parlay this generosity
in my diplomatic favor later. We always tell the couples we prepare for
marriage that each relationship is like a bank account and that you make
deposits by doing considerate stuff for your spouse without being asked
to. I see stuff like that as a deposit in the old bank account. And as
everyone knows, a positive account balance makes everything go smoother.
Heidi
made a big deposit yesterday. She spent the entire day sewing and repairing
old clothes. Now I have four pairs of my old beloved pants back. Hooray.
I know how much Heidi dreads such repairs, so that was a big deposit indeed.
In fact getting the kid in the night does not compare to that. Hmmmm...
I'll have to think of something in the way of an appreciative gesture...
I walked
out this morning and on my way to my car there was this perfect circle
where the leaves were raked away. I remembered last night when I looked
up and saw GirlZilla heading from the garage to the front door with the
rake. I usually am suspicious when GirlZilla wants to borrow the lawn tools,
but we figured that if she wanted to rake the yard, she could go for it.
Obviously she didn't rake the whole yard. Now there's this big crop-circle-like
clearing in the leaves of our front yard. It looks as if the Blair Witch
visited us during the night. When I come home tonight, I'll try not to
trip over the little piles of stones.
22
February 2000
I'm
worried about my brother. He came over to play cards last night and said
he had had a biopsy on his thyroid. No big deal, he said, since only ten
percent of these things are cancerous. Only ten percent? Too high for me.
I can't believe he didn't tell me earlier so that I could be properly worried.
Anyway,
he came over with his wife to play Spades. We (da boyz) won. We've been
on a winning jag lately, though we've had our slumps in the past. I played
recklessly -- I bid Nullo with the singleton Queen of Spades. And I made
it. The gaming gods were on my side last night. I love Spades Nights. I
just hope my baby brother is around for many more years of them. I'm counting
on him to help me hustle at Pinocle when we are both old men.
My
niece asked me to DJ her wedding. I'm not sure if she knows that I'm not
very good. I am pretty sure that she knows that I am very cheap.
The good news is that baby brother said he'd do it for very cheap if he
wasn't already committed that weekend. He's a very good DJ. I figure we'd
cover his expenses as a wedding gift to my niece.
We
have to go to Dallas for the wedding in April. I may take an extra few
days to visit with family that is there. I've been trying to meet up with
my Aunt Polly for a few years now. My parents will likely come down from
Oklahoma. We'll just have a big 'ol family weekend.
I'm
taking off early today to go downtown to have lunch with Fr. Lawrence,
a friend of ours. Then we're gonna try to track down Brother Jude, this
artist monk dude. Anyway, we are wanting to buy some of his work to give
to a friend of ours for his anniversary. It could be a challenge because
he's kind of nomadic -- no phone, lives wherever the rent is cheap and
there's work to pay it. He's a neat guy. If you ever want to have a really
interesting conversation, take a nomadic artist monk out to dinner.
We're
going to Daily Reviw Cafe, my favorite. I'm pumped. I get so tired of the
jejune fare offered by the food chains of suburbia. It'll be so nice to
eat at a place where the offerings change daily with what's fresh. Heck,
it'll just be nice to eat at a place where the menus aren't laminated and
they don't serve fried cheese.
21
February 2000
I had
a textbook-good Sunday. Went to church, had our family meeting, called
my mother, had family time, did a little Enron work, taught Junior High
CCE at church, and then went into work for a few hours to put in some needed
overtime. It's as if I was going for some sort of good citizenship medal
or something. I did discover that I am much more effective working in the
morning than I am working at night. I didn't get much work done past 9:00
pm.
I also
realized at Mass, again, how much I love serving as a Eucharistic Minister.
I mean, wow, you get to administer the body of Christ to your friends and
neighbors. I know my fellow parishoners think I'm weird, because I smile
at them when I give them the host. I'm the only smiling eucharistic minister,
but I can't help but be happy when I really think about what I'm doing.
We
are always being told to "be Christ for one another" and that "we are the
church" and "we are the body of Christ." I can understand that in a tangible
way when I am handing out the Eucharist -- I get a real glimpse of what
the "real presence" of Christ really is. We're not eating the flesh of
Christ, (yuck) we're taking into ourselves the real presence of Christ.
Christ as manifest in our love, our unity, our sacrifice. My pastor confirmed
that eating the Eucharist is not meant to be thought of as eating the actual
flesh of Christ, but as taking into our beings the Jesus' actual essence
and life force. I've felt it -- If you say it's just a symbol, you rob
it of its power.
Oh
well, sorry for getting all religious on you, but my faith is a current
that runs through my life and I can't really tell anyone the real me without
getting into it sometimes. I don't talk about it much in real life, because
I don't want to be obnoxiously religious and it's not effective evangelization
to walk around making people feel uncomfortable and awkward. I would hope
I evengelize by example and I'll keep all my religious ravings to this
journal. That's what it's here for -- stuff I can't really talk about anyplace
else.
19
February 2000
We
may get a new foster child in the near future. Our case worker asked us
when we'd be ready for another one and Heidi told her, "Right, now. Bring
'em on." I don't know myself. Life is hectic enough with two kids, but
I guess it's one of those faith things. We will find the time and attention
if God calls us to share with another little kid. We have asked
them to give us an older child. Once we get Mr. Freshpants sleeping through
the night, I think we want a rest from nighttime feedings.
Dammit.
Dammit. Dammit. It doesn't look like it to you, but this is my third attempt
to update. I got as far as the preceding paragraph on my second attempt.
Geocities keeps crashing on me, bringing my browser down. I'm gonna have
to start updating on my own machine and uploading rather than using the
Geocities editor. Unfortunately I've used up all of my updating time and
will have to cut this short. I apologize to all (what, two?) of my readers.
Use this time you would ordinarily read a long entry to drop
me an email and let me know you're out there.
17
February 2000
I finally
made it to the gym yesterday. Ever since the racquetball courts were torn
down (bastards) I haven't been as motivated to go. They have installed
some neat machines on top of my racquetball courts, (bastards) my favorite
being the Precor "elliptical trainers." They're like jogging but low-impact.
For a guy like me, low-impact is important. I'm an exercise wimp. I can
walk briskly for miles and miles, but can only run for a half a mile before
I hurt. I can do twenty laps breast stroke, but only one freestyle before
I'm sucking wind. I'm a wuss.
And
then there's the boredom factor. Repetitive exercise bores me to tears.
What I like are sports like tennis, raquetball (bastards), and basketball,
where you get good exercise, but forget you're exercising.
What
I need is to join a gym where they have converted all the workout space
to a variety of courts -- tennis, volleyball, racquetball, (bastards) basketball,
etc. -- and then the staff organizes spontaneous pick up games of all those
sports. No matter when you go, there's all these fun games going on. Like,
the pool will have no lap swim or water aerobics, but water volleyball,
water polo, and even a bodacious game of Marco Polo or two. Yeah, and then
we can have these four measly treadmills in the corner that eventually
get displaced to make room for more courts because the treadmills are not
popular enough. Yeah. That's it. That would be great. Friggin' great.
I'm
not bitter, no sir.
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