Critters

Thursday, June 16, 2011
In which another day of little report occurs at the church office…

Back to the office again.
One week down; probably eight more to go.
Things were quiet, really.
Judah had a cough.
Daisy-Jean made a run to Taco Bell for lunch.
No events.
No unexpected incidents.
No trouble.
Burgers. No bun. As usual.

And a six o’clock VBS volunteer meeting in the sanctuary that night. Heidi had baskets of fun-sized Twix and 3 Musketeers. Although it was not a pretty sight when an animal-sized wolf spider crawled out from under the kids’ basketball hoop, where about a dozen eggs sacks were then discovered. Not to mention the incessant baby birds tweeting in the ceiling. Babe Ruth, the sexton, had gone up earlier to investigate and reported that the critters seemed old enough to be moving out soon.

Meanwhile, the AC had gone out in the trailer, so the crew returned from the campground, though Puck tagged along for another spend-the-night, as requested.
Home to meet OLeif. It was weird, almost like in the first days before Puck had come. They talked over OLeif’s syllabus and caught up on a little Doctor Who.
It was a quiet evening.
Without Puck around, life was most often an uneventful situation.

In other news, it would seem that Carrie-Bri’s ‘little family [was] growing’, as she put it. A new cat was to be added to the collection. Caramel-colored. And a dirty tail from the photos.

“Plausible reasons have never been lacking for putting off all merely cultural activities until some imminent danger has been averted or some crying injustice put right. But humanity long ago chose to neglect those plausible reasons. They wanted knowledge and beauty now, and would not wait for the suitable moment that never comes… The insects have chosen a different line: they have sought first the material welfare and security of the hive, and presumable they have their reward. Men are different. They propound mathematical theorems in beleaguered cities, conduct metaphysical arguments in condemned cells, make jokes on scaffold, discuss, the last new poem while advancing to the walls of Quebec, and comb their hair at Thermopylae. This is not panache; it is our nature.”

– C.S. Lewis, Learning in War-Time