Monday, August 28, 2006

Sacriligious: adjective; grossly irreverent toward the sacred

Mindy and I have a fairly good retirement program through the state, but if we plan to retire early, we will need to move into some kind of a second career. After watching religious broadcasting for lo these many years, we have decided that we are totally cut out to run our own church. Further research has convinced us that rather than pick a currently established McFaith, we should start our own religion. The following is a list of the tenets of our religion, to date:

The Church of the Firstborn of the Holy Flaming Fedora

Church leaders will wear robes and sometimes capes. Capes may be substituted for robes if desired. The idea is to wear something that flows out behind you in a Supermanish manner as you stride purposefully about the church. Or the library. Or Wal-Mart.

We shall revert back to the original plan for communion. No more crackers and grape juice. We’re gonna eat good – chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, hot rolls, salad and chocolate cake.

Fasting is not encouraged and may be ridiculed. If you feel the need to abstain from something, stop watching the news for a while.

No Name-It-and-Claim-It bullshit.

No magic miracle-cure bullshit. Fairy tale-type magic is considered highly desirable, but shall be plainly labeled as magic. Faith healing and seed giving shall be plainly labeled as excrement and will be scoffed. Vociferously.

Toenails must be painted as a gerneral rule, since most church members will be wearing bling-encrusted flip flops or sandals. Pedicures for all on Maundy Thursday.

The cast and crew of What Not to Wear are officially excommunicated and banned from communion.

No binding or constrictive undergarments.

Church service will be on Friday nights, right before suppertime, so as not to muck up a prime chunk of the weekend.

All church holidays will fall on Mondays.

OPI nail polish and comic books will be donated to the less fortunate on a regular basis.

We firmly eschew all record keeping in favor of frequent business meeting updates on the latest and greatest thrift store finds.

Edward Gorey is our patron saint.

The photo directory will be done by Glamour Shots. Costumes will be encouraged. Creepy corpse-like Olan Mills Family Photos will be banned.

Mindy will be allowed to sing choruses as long as spookyrach is allowed to make faces and armpit music during singing of same.

Members will be encouraged to carry swords. Wands may be substituted.

VBS is strictly outlawed. An Adults-Only Craft Night will be considered as a replacement. Childcare not provided.

Church leadership will have veto authority as regards any unruly children. If your child is deemed an annoyance, you must make alternate provisions for the future of its immortal soul and not bring the little snot-monkey within 200 yards of any church function. Please note: Your Little Entitlement Twits Do Not Impress Us.

No committees will be permitted. If something needs doing, do it. If no one does it, it wasn’t really that important anyway. Ask for help if you need it.

No mid-week service. If you can’t keep the faith for an entire week without a booster shot, then you’ve got more problems than can be cured by a Wednesday night service. If, however, y’all want to meet up at a good restaurant and eat dinner together sometime during the week, then that’s all good.

spookyrach will provide a weekly rant and rave session at each service. (We will have to recruit someone to perform actual meaningful teaching. Perhaps little david will apply.) Mindy will be in charge of the music, even though spookyrach is highly suspicious that this will make for a touchy-feely service. ~gives Mindy the evil eye~

All official church documents shall be produced with Sharpies. Scratch-outs permitted. No Smileys. No LOL.

The church will not have a marquee. The temptation to crumminess is often too great to resist. If thy sign offends thee, pluck it out.

Evangelistic revivals are allowed, but only during only during the week following the first freeze, when a plethora of otherwise unusable tomatoes are available. There will be a celebratory bar-be-que following the revival in any year in which the traveling evangelist and/or musician retires from active ministry following the CFHFF revival.

Church leadership will reference the book of Leviticus frequently. This allows the leadership to basically rewrite the book as suits their purpose, as long as it is used for good and not for evil. It’s not like anybody was reading that book anyway. For example: “And the anti-Christ shall rise in the East of the State, somewhere in the vicinity of Houston, and he shall be called Joel Osteen.” Lev. 21:13. Stuff like that.
As soon as we can secure a meeting place, we'll let you know. In the meantime, we'll be shopping for capes and wands. And maybe hats...

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Friday Cemetery Blogging

For what shall it proffitt a man...

I thought this was a terribly interesting stone. I've seen crosses, cresents and chrysanthemums. Never a peace symbol. I've got a theory on this. What do you think?

"I really need a pedicure."

Monday, August 14, 2006

El Hell

Yesterday I walked to work.

To be accurate I walked from my office to the new courts building. The county finally finished renovation of an old Sears store and made it a new district courts building. Its about three blocks from my office.

I'm used to hopping across the street to the courthouse a few minutes before I'm supposed to be in court, saying hi to the squirrels and getting into an ancient elevator to make the life-risking trip to the top. Why take the elevator? Because the courthouse was built at a time when ceilings were higher and stairs were steeper. Even the most physically fit among us are breathing heavy by the time they reach the third floor. The least fit among us are beet red and having palpitations by the time they get to the top.

You can imagine the type of impression it makes when you take the stairs and are then the first witness called to testify.

"State your name for the record, please," the lawyer says, then you have to speak into a microphone. "Spo-wheeze-oky wheeze Rach wheeze-gasp."

But that doesn't really have anything to do with my point. Which is, that I walked down the street to the courts building. And not for the first time, either! We never walk any where here. Never. This is a small town, but it sprawls all over everywhere. One of our only natural resources is roominess and we make good use of it. Nothing is within walking distance of anything else and we scoff at the idea of public transportation. Only the most derelict among us don't have access to a vehicle. People don't trust you if you don't have your own ride.

A few years ago, Fake Cow City/County got a grant from the federal government for Rural Public Transportation. They bought a couple of trolley car-shaped buses and published routes for free public transportation. No one would ride them. No one. The trolleys disappeared quietly one day, never to be seen or heard from again.

We did manage to hang on to a subsidized bus service of sorts. You have to call a day in advance to book a ride, but for a couple of dollars they'll take you where you need to go around town. Its like pulling teeth to get people to use it. Basically the service ferrys clientele between social service agencies.

Maybe we have an aversion to riding around in anonymous groups because it reminds us of cattle in trucks on the way to the slaughterhouse. I don't know. But I do know I am jealous of those of you with public transportation. I love to read about Mimi Smartypants' encounters with the drunken masses. It seems so amusing from afar. And the thought of being able to read on the ride to work makes me especially envious.

I guess there's no hope for me. I live a couple of miles out of town and I suppose I will have to continue to endure that eight minute commute. (Nine if I have to stop at the traffic light.)

But I will keep walking to court!

Friday, August 11, 2006

This made me laugh...

Chevy Pickup recently completed treatment for breast cancer. For the second time. She got a new guy on probation a couple of weeks ago. She met with him briefly the day of his court hearing. He came back the next week to complete the paperwork.

This week, he had a hearing on yet another charge, which resulted in yet another probation. He had to meet with CP again following that hearing. About halfway through the meeting, Mr. Sensitivity said:

"How's come every time I see you, you got on a different hat?"

CP glared at him and didn't miss a beat:

"How come every time I see you, you got a new arrest?"

I don't think he asked any more questions.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Hey, Lucy! I'm home!

Its been almost a week. I miss it already.

Jackson went back to work full time this week. First time in nearly five years. I'm not sure I'm happy about it.

Jackson was diagnosed with colon cancer in 2001. It had spread to his lymphnodes and they originally didn't give him much chance. But he had some really outstanding doctors and some pretty aggressive treatment and after five years of recovery and dealing with other health problems he is back at work.


When he first began to realize that he couldn't handle the daily grind and recovery at the same time, he trotted over to the local Social Security office to see what his options were. They said something along the lines of "Oh, you poor thing!" and he received his first disability check less than 30 days later. If you've ever worked with people who are trying to get on disability, you know how insanely rare that is!

Then, last year, when he went back to Social Security and said he wanted to go back to work, you'd have thought he was the second coming of Christ. They really kiss your feet over there when you get back into the workforce.

Unfortunately, a four year gap in your employment history is pretty noticeable on a resume. And when you explain that no, you weren't in prison - you were sick - no one wants to touch you. You'd have a better chance of getting hired with a prison record. Unclean! Unclean!

So, a year and a few more college courses added onto the master's degree later, he is back at work.

And I'm bummed.

Don't get me wrong, I am way all happy that he's healthy again. But I am so going to miss our 1950's domestic arrangement. No wonder the feminist movement caused such a stir! This lifestyle with one person earning the dough and the other one kneading it is to die for!

I haven't been inside a grocery store in years. Years, people! That alone makes this all worthwhile. I go to work and when I get home, there's Jackson slaving over a hot stove and putting dinner on the table. I sit down, read the paper while he's finishing up, then we eat a hot homemade meal. After dinner, being the generous and giving person that I am, I help clear the table. And Jackson does the dishes.

He takes out the trash. He makes sure the cats are fed. He does the laundry. He mows the yard and keeps the cars serviced. He deals with repairmen and the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Last year, after Katie moved in with us, he was everyone's favorite homeroom mother. He volunteered for everything and was up at the school for at least an hour a day. He took Katie to school. Made sure she had lunch. Picked her up in the afternoon.

This year, I have to accompany them to "Meet Yer Teacher" night. (I suppose the teachers prefer "your".) Katie will have to go to an afterschool program at the YMCA. I'll be the one at the awards ceremonies and taking cookies to the Valentine's party.

Poor Katie. heh.

I'm really proud of Jackson and I'm very glad he is going back to work. That whole second income thing won't be bad either. He's going to be great at his job.

But I am totally going to miss my Ward Cleaver days.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

You Are Here

This is where
I work.
For reals.

The top two floors still look the same. The bottom floor, which houses our office and the tax assessors office, has been "modernized". This means that they bricked up all the windows and squared the curved corner sometime along about 1974. Bleh.

My friend Janet, champion lurker, found this postcard on Ebay. The upper two floors are storage for county office documents. I've posted pictures of it before. It is knee-deep in mouse parts, pigeon crap and killer dust bunnies. It's really wonderful up there.

There are spooky staircases.

And nifty radiators.

Interesting bathtubs.

And many, many
pigeon carcasses.

If you are in my part of the country, holler and we'll give you the tour. Provided you aren't too worried about the chicken flu. *cough, cough, choke*

Friday, August 04, 2006

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

So don't even THINK about asking for a Travel Permit!