Allergic to Church

January 16, 2007Me and My LifeIris

I just got back from spending several hours going through potential choir music at my church. Rehearsals start up again in a couple of weeks, and I haven’t yet decided what we’ll be singing.

So there I was, singing merrily away as I plucked out harmonies and accompaniments on the piano, when my pastor showed up looking puzzled. He walked slowly up through the entire church peering at me as I sat at the piano. “Oh, it’s you!” he finally realized, laughing at himself for not recognizing me. I made some crack about keeping my scarf on indoors (we’re in the negative temps here, and I didn’t want to turn on the whole church heating system just so I could pick out choir music) only to realize that I’d also left my hat on all evening. So here I was, mostly obscured by the piano, and then swathed in a hat and scarf. No wonder he couldn’t figure out if I was someone he knew or just some singing, piano-playing tramp off the street.

Anyway, we got to talking, which should have been pleasant except that just then my left eye started to prick and burn. Now, you should know that my eyes have acted up before… in my previous church. I’d get to choir practice, get everyone warmed up, start waving my arms in time with the music, and tears would start rolling down my cheeks. (My choir members had great fun wondering if these were tears of joy or of distress at their rendition of the music at hand.)

As he chattered away I found myself losing the thread of the conversation. Would he think he’d moved me to tears? Would he think he’d interrupted me at an emotional moment? There’s just no easy way to explain away sudden onslaught tears.

Eventually he left, and then I left, escaping into the allergen-free outdoors. I wonder if he believed my story about allergies…

Captivating DVD

January 7, 2007Living with CatsIris

My cat and I may disagree on many of our favorite passtimes. For instance, puss enjoys eating the Christmas tree, paw-painting with his water on the kitchen floor, jumping up onto the counter and the table, eating the strings that hang from window blinds, and licking every inch of his body (including the naughty bits). I, on the other hand, do not enjoy doing any of these things.

Meanwhile, I read, write, IM with friends, watch TV, and knit. Of these, puss has only shown any interest in knitting, and then only because the stings bear remarkable resemblances to the strings that hang from the window blinds.

But puss and I both agree when it comes to watching DVDs. I watch the screen and lose myself in the lives of people who lead more interesting lives than I do. I laugh, cry, ponder, and quake with the characters. Puss, on the other hand, watches the luminescent numbers on the DVD player count up with each second of play time. He keeps a close eye on those numbers throughout the most if not all of the movie. And not only are the numbers themselves fascinating, ticking up and up in regular rhythm, but at the beginning and end of the movie that mysterious, frightening, and thrilling tray pops in and out as I either insert or retreive the DVD. This is by far the most exciting function of the DVD player, and it causes his ears to prick, his tail to twitch, and his eyes to dialate and push aside all of the yellow irises that normally make them so striking.

So tonight I watch an old Dalgliesh mystery, and puss watches the numbers count up. All is right with the world.

Denial?

January 2, 2007RandomnessIris

I just saw a comedy segment in which Carlos Mencia tried to uncover the meaning behind a highway sign that’s unique to San Diego county. In the course of his quest, he talked to a representative from law enforcement who was adamant that it wasn’t meant to depict anything other than that it’s dangerous for people to cross the interstate. No, it wasn’t about immigrants. No, it wouldn’t be proper for signs to be meant for any “ethnicity” or race. That guy obviously hadn’t seen or heard of this, the study that prompted San Diego county to design and put up their unique road signs in the hopes that the body count would decrease.

Don’t Look Now, But I Think Party Girl Is Moving Out!

December 31, 2006Me and My LifeIris

Party Girl and a few of her unseemly friends have been tramping in and out of her apartment all afternoon. I caught a glimpse of cardboard boxes, and about an hour ago it sounded like a box of pots and pans spilled down the stairs.

If she is moving out, that means our new apartment manager moved very quickly through the eviction process, and it means that I’ll be able to sleep tonight without worrying about waking up to drunken screaming and the inane, shouted conversations between her and her high, smashed guests (or flames in the hallway, which is even more frightening). I’ll be able to tear up the slip of paper that lives next to my bedroom phone and has the non-emergency police number written on it. I’ll be able to stop parking as far from her car as I can (you never know when she’ll go out to get more booze). I’ll be able to listen to my own music instead of the unsettling combination of my music and her blasted country ballads. (And I fully intend all meanings of the word “blasted.”)

If she isn’t moving out, I’ll be terribly disappointed and very curious about what she’s been doing all day.

[Update: It’s official. When I got back from partying in the new year all her door decorations were gone. And now, this morning, she came back to vacuum and stuff, and I heard her telling someone about her “new place” and how much bigger and nicer it is that this “dump” was.]

Through the Eyes of Babes

December 31, 2006Portraits of People and PlacesIris

There’s nothing like the children’s Christmas program to cause heartache and stress in a church. Every year at my parents’ church the 4th grade girls wait in suspense to see which is the most Mary-ish of all. All year they give each other side-long glances in Sunday School and wonder if the Christmas program organizers are going to favor blond or brown hair this year, or whether they’ve grown too tall over the summer, or if it matters that they’ve started losing their front teeth. Can you be a proper Mary if you’re missing teeth? The pictures hanging in their Sunday school class rooms tend to show Mary with all her teeth, but they also show her with brown hair, and last year Gloria got to be Mary and she had blond hair…

The only consolation is that if you get passed over for Mary, there’s still the chance that you’ll be deemed worthy to be the Angel. And every year the Angle works very hard to redefine her concept of yule-time beauty. Soft shades of blue and that mysterious but wonderful head scarf to are nothing, nothing compared shimmering white and a ring of gold for your hair. (But maybe next year I can be Mary.)

Meanwhile the boys seem to land unawares in the roles of Joseph or the Wise Men. And, truth be told, being a Wise Man is a lot more fun because there are those cool shimmery turbans and the jewel-encrusted knick-knack boxes to carry.

The smallest kids that can be trusted to walk up the aisle and sit still in the front of the church get to be sheep. Everyone looks forward to watching the sheep perform their important roles. They typically have their lines better memorized than anybody else (they get to stand with their class to recite lines with the rest of the kids), and they perform their roles with great solemnity in the hopes that next year they’ll be able to be a cow or, most coveted of animal roles, the donkey.

These sheep are aided in carrying out their roles by three shepherds. Two shepherds walk in front of them down the aisle, and one shepherd walks behind to make sure they all get to the front of the church without mishap. These shepherds, just a couple years older than the sheep, steer the young-uns to their stations in the tableau and then spend the rest of the program exploring the layers and ropes of their costumes.

This year, though, there was quite a bit of sheep/shepherd drama. The last shepherd, the one charged with making sure they get to the front of the church without losing the sheep into the rows of parents sitting in the pews, got a little bit bored with his job. During the rehearsal he walked behind the two little sheep silently shooting them with imaginary pistols. In fact, he found this so amusing that the next morning, while all the be-costumed children waited to file into the church, he began shooting his sheep again. This time the sheep noticed and became understandably concerned. I tried discouraging the un-shepherdly practice, and then forbidding it, all with no effect. Finally, figuring it would discourage the practice if the shepherd didn’t get the satisfaction of an annoyed response from his sheep, I explained to the sheep that I was erecting a forcefield around them that would let air in but keep bullets out.

The sheep seemed doubtful. The shepherd knew for sure it would have no effect. Just to prove his point, he shot them again.

“Look,” I said, “the bullet bounced off and went right over there into the floor. Did you see that?”

Three pairs of eyes followed my pointing finger. The sheep looked at me in relief and admiration of my bullet-deflecting prowess. The shepherd looked at me in consternation and let out an involuntary, “Heeyyyyy…..”

Just to be sure, the shepherd tried again. This time the bullet flew into the opposite wall. “Heeeeyyyyyyy…..” the shepherd complained as the sheep sat calmly and contentedly within their forcefield and began comparing the ribbons and bows on their Christmas dresses.

In the face of such serenity, the shepherd decided it would be more interesting to look at the Wise Men and calculate how many more grades he’d have to advance before he’d be allowed to carry those gift boxes.

Droplets and Rivers

Some days you experience life in bits and pieces, and other days it hits you all at once.

Allergic to Church

Captivating DVD

Denial?

Don’t Look Now, But I Think Party Girl Is Moving Out!

Through the Eyes of Babes