Sunday afternoon I went to a Stud Party. Not what you're thinking. Our church choir holds a Stud Party whenever someone in our church is having a new home built. We take our Bibles and felt-tip pens to the framed-in-but-not-yet-sheet-rocked house and write Scripture verses on the studs that will eventually be behind walls in the house. The trick is in making it relevant; what you put and where you put it is very important. For example, Deuteronomy 28:6 seems appropriate by the front door (You will be blessed when you come in and blessed when you go out). Psalm 51:7 is better near the bathtub (Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow). Afterward we gather in a big circle and sing songs and pray. Great fun and very spiritual at the same time. I recommend it.
On Monday, Mrs. RWP and I made a 60-mile round trip in our gas guzzler so that our favorite dental hygienist could clean our teeth. I nearly canceled the appointments at the last minute because the price of gasoline skyrocketed by about $1.00 a gallon around here this weekend in the aftermath of Hurricane Ike’s effect on oil refineries in Texas and Louisiana. I don’t know why, but this makes me think of “the butterfly effect” -- you know, a butterfly stirs up the air while crossing my backyard and eventually there is a typhoon off the coast of China. We are all interconnected in ways we don’t realize. I scrape together some gas money and take a little car trip and my dentist gets to go skiing in Colorado this winter. My new white smile reflects more brightly into the atmosphere and the temperature goes up a couple of degrees in Zanzibar. Al Gore said so, and it’s all our fault. Mine and yours. Mostly yours.
My oldest son will be 44 this Saturday. I don’t see how this is possible since I am only 38 myself. Actually, I lied. I’m not 38. But in hexadecimal, I’m 43. I will not speak or write further about hexadecimal notation unless there is a huge clamor for it from my readers and public demonstrations in every city. Send your cards, letters, and petitions to Down With Decimal, c/o General Delivery, Not Grapevine, Texas. No phone calls, please.
This is short, but as I can’t think of anything else to write about at the moment, T.T.F.N.*
*Ta Ta For Now (Tigger in Winnie the Pooh)
