Braving the Downpour

As many of you may be aware, I am relocated to my hometown of South Bend, Indiana.  I've been here since the trip ran afoul, and I'm planning on staying.* South Bend seemed glad to have me back, as I was greeted with record rains that closed roads, destroyed yards, and left the entire westside under a boil order. That means that if I brush my teeth with the regular sink water, I may contract dyptheria.

* All I need is a job. And a place to live. And my car. And some clothes. Other than that, I'm home.

The rains were merely remnants of Hurricane Ike, the storm that tore through Galveston, demolished parts of Houston, and merely soaked the midwest. It's not nearly the first hurricane complication I've dealt with this year. When Fay rolled through Florida, winds in North Dakota escalated to 40 mph; right across my left side as I attempted to keep my bicycle from blowing off the side of a bridge. These are the things you never plan for.

I eavesdropped on a couple of older gentleman at a Starbucks, arguing about just how much rain we'd received over the weekend. The first man pointed out that his rain gauge showed 11 inches. The second man pointed out that his rain gauge showed 12.5 inches. Back and forth it went; each man trying to prove to the other that either he or his rain gauge was an incompetent fool.

I believe one of the men even had a rain gauge notebook - a tome that he had on his person and was able to produce during the conversation - which he had used to track rainfall since the late 90s.

See, I've never had that argument with one of my friends, namely because none of my friends are old enough to actually own a rain gauge.  See, a rain gauge isn't a thing a person buys to help him make a decision.  No one says, "I was going to see the new Will Ferrell movie, but my rain gauge showed 4 inches and I knew there was no way."  This is because the new Will Ferrell movies are horrible and no one ever wants to see them.

No, a rain gauge is purchased as a conversation piece.  Without rain gauges, the two old men would have been reduced to this conversation:

Old Man 1: It rained last night.

Old Man 2: Yes it did.

And that is why I don't own a rain gauge.  I hope my life is interesting enough to stand on its own without my needing to mention how many inches I got last night.

Don't Be Ashamed, Friend!

I popped over to Starbucks the other day for the launch of their new blend - Pike Place Roast. It's actually pretty good. A hint of caramel, reminiscent of the Espresso Roast, but smoother and less intense.

You don't care about that. I barely care about that.

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I read something funny while I was listening to my mp3 player. The thing about headphones is that they often leave you unaware of the volume of your laugh. Apparently I was laughing really loud.

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I was plotting my escape from the place when I noticed a pretty-looking young woman reading Blue Like Jazz.

I read Blue Like Jazz! I've got a conversation starter! Go for it!

So I did.

Me: That's a pretty good book.
Her: Oh. Yeah.
Me: Have you read any of his other stuff?
Her: Um, you might not know this, but you were laughing like a crazy person earlier.
Me: Oh. Um, I'm really sorry about that.
Her: It was really, really annoying.

Lenten Sacrifices

For the past couple of years, I've given up something for Lent, but not this year. Not yet anyway. Ash Wednesday crept up on us pretty quickly, and the procrastinator in me emerged. Probably, after the weekend, I'll figure out what thing I didn't do all week, and then continue to not do that thing. I will not be giving up coffee for Lent.

Last year, I did. No coffee for the entirety of the 46 days. I yearned for the stuff. I craved it. But I held out. Then, on Easter Sunday, Lent was over, and I was able to get a release. I think I drank four cups of coffee at home. Then I stopped at Starbucks and got some more. I had missed the baristas and baristos so much.

I spent the entirety of Easter Sunday hyper like a four-year-old. I peed six times in four hours. I couldn't sit still. At about 3:30, I fell asleep at the kitchen table.

Northern Blogging

A few highlights from Christmas Eve at Calvary:

• Lighting bags of dirt on fire to celebrate the birth of Jesus.
• Music at 7:00 and 8:30.
• Learning that "What Child Is This" has multiple choruses, but that these aren't printed in the hymnal. They are therefore not on the visual slides that I run.
• Jumping jacks in Todd's office to keep the blood flowing.
• Visiting Starbucks at 1:00 am Christmas morning.
• Getting really excited about Christmas.

If Jesus Came to Church...

I had an interesting epiphany at Starbucks yesterday. The place was insane. At least ten people were working instead of the usual four. The place was as clean as I've ever seen it. There were samples everywhere. Baristos (what I've taken to calling a male barista) were wearing ties beneath their aprons. Tableside service was offered to customers who didn't feel like walking to the counter. I'm pretty sure there was a dude back there whose sole job was to pump vanilla syrup.

The valet who parked my car tipped me.

(I only made that last part up.)

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I found out what was going on. Turns out the Senior VP of US Operations for Starbucks Corp. was stopping by for a visit. Because a bigshot was coming, I received a free brownie, a cleaner store, and a better experience than I usually get. They impress him (or her) by doing extra for me.

If we knew Jesus would be dropping by to visit us, we'd probably do a few things differently. But the best way to impress him might just be to treat the people around us better. And that's a goal that's worth pursuing no matter what.

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Now playing: David Crowder Band - The Glory Of It All

Decorating for Christmas

Now that Thanksgiving's over, it's time to get into the spirit of Christmas, I suppose. As a forward-thinking 21st Century Man, I decided to celebrate the way that is most appropriate for me. I drank a grande Christmas Blend from Starbucks and redesigned the calvaryunited.org website. Check it out.

www.calvaryunited.org

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Now playing: Tracy Chapman - Fast Car

Unfortunate Conversation

I was at Starbucks the other day, enjoying my afternoon coffee (at like 6:30 pm) and I was doing a bit of eavesdropping, accidentally of course. I overheard two guys, who were church leaders of some sort, talking about a third guy, who apparently visited one of their churches.

GUY 1: "So, I called him and asked why he didn't ever come back to church."
GUY 2: "What did he say?"
GUY 1: "He said he just didn't feel welcome at our church. So I'm racking my brain trying to figure out what we did wrong."
GUY 2: Don't listen to people like that. He probably doesn't ever go to any church, so you need to let his opinions roll off your back."

WHAT?

We're talking about a dude who came to a church, so obviously he's looking for something. Shouldn't those people feel welcome in a place that believes it has the Answer?

But I guess people have a tendency to feel unwelcome where the attitude is, "Don't listen to people like that." Or, "Who cares about that guy?"