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Holy cow. Literally. Well, maybe not the cow part. It’s Sunday night, and the ‘rents have the televised church service playing. If this sounds racist, I’m sorry, but… it’s almost enough to make me wish my parents were black. If they were, at least we’d probably be getting some good music. Instead we’ve had a half hour’s worth (so far) of bible readings alternated with prayers being thankful for all the church has been given and asking for help with the upcoming building program. The one song was downright mournful and had approximately ten verses, performed at a glacial pace. All of the praying and reading has been delivered in tones best suited to a funeral. Gimme some Jesse Jackson-style preaching, brother! Let’s hear some joyful noise! Somebody once described Queen Elizabeth as the whitest white woman alive, and I swear these guys are trying to out-white her. I’ve taken refuge in the bedroom.

I know I said I was going to get email and post the earlier two entries, but the coffee shop wasn’t open on Sunday. Not necessarily because of religious conviction, but I’m thinking more likely just that no one ever showed up on Sundays for coffee. I am, therefore, without good coffeeshop java, email, or journal entries. So sad.

At least the worst of my mood has passed. For some reason, whatever ails me always seems to improve at night. Weird. Or maybe there’s some physiological reason. I’m just glad.

I tried to work on my notes for the classes I’m going to teach next weekend, but they won’t open; one of them said it needed a translator for the import, or some damn thing. I’ve switched between the Mac and this machine on the same Word document before with no problem. Sigh.

(Whoa… the guy praying just said his heart was on fire. At least he said it with some conviction. The last guy who prayed said he wanted everyone in the town, the county, the state, the country and indeed to world to know that this church spoke the word of the lord, like maybe some Shiite wandering through from Iraq was going to go back and tell ‘em all to lay off, this little church in central KY had it right. Huh.) Occasionally when I’m packing to come up here, I have the fantasy that maybe I should bring good clothes and go to church with them for a service—I expect it’d make ‘em awfully happy. When I get here, I never have the faintest desire to go. I think it’s probably a Very Good Thing if I DON’T go.

Sadly, I did not bring enough books to read. I figured I’d be working on my notes and thus would be fully occupied. I’ve done Sudoku till I’m bored to death with it, and at the rate I’ve been going through mysteries, I’m going to have to start reading some of Mother’s books, which is a sad thing indeed. I think I’ve already read all her Martha Grimes, and she tends otherwise to cozies and bordering-on-romances. Ick. I’m geared down, but not quite far enough for a cozy just yet. Of course, in another day or two, they might look good. The trip to B’ville will keep me occupied (Mother told Aunt Jean on the phone that she’s hoping I’ll bring some clarity to the sorting process down there. Sigh. See yesterday’s entry about decisions.)

Now they’re singing “Onward Christian Soldiers,” which is an improvement. They still sound awfully white, though.

Oh! I realized a Good Thing about taking 12 hours next Fall—I’ll be able to graduate in the Spring instead of at the end of the summer. Whee!

Daddy has just put a lemon cake in the oven. Yum! I was hoping he’d make one while I was here. Heh.

Okay, I’ve run down again. More later.

Added Monday AM:
The cake was delicious. I still haven’t made it to the coffee shop but found a local wireless connection to borrow briefly. We’re off to B’ville today. Decisions to make!

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Susan Arthur

February 2011

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