Lately at breakfast Petra likes to read to me from this website. Here's a sample of what I heard this morning.
Today, I told my teacher I had a question. She said back "I have an answer" to which I replied "You go first". She told me it was the cleverest thing she's heard a student say. My life is average.
Today, I saw a sign at a picture framing store that said, "shoot the family, hang the kids, frame the wife." Photo framers have a dark sense of humor. My life is average.
Today, my child went on this baby website about Disney and I found that her password was 'MickeyGoofyPlutoMinnie' I asked her why it was so long, she replied 'They said it had to be at least 4 characters.' My life is average.
We love this website. Its contributors are mostly students, but not all. It testifies to a level of daily appreciation for the ironies, the foibles, even the unexpected nerdy beauty all around us, as in this one:
Today, I ran into a detour while driving home from school. This made me angry, until I saw the middle-aged construction worker directing traffic. He was doing the moonwalk while pointing where to go with his thumbs over his shoulders. I hope the detour is still there tomorrow. My life is average.
I posted this status somewhere recently: "Cecilia made yummy stuffed peppers with veggies from her sexton's garden." That single average moment (actually, hour and a half) of my life engendered more comments than nearly everything else I've posted recently. It appears we are all interested in the average, more than I had previously realized.
This is a relief. The blog thing feels, at times, like a tremendous pressure to be anything but average. I mean, I originally chose the sexy name "Closeted Pastor" precisely to break out of that average mold, to let people know, hey, this is no "average" online journal.
But you know, as I have testified in the past, I am pretty boring, perhaps more than ever, now that I'm out of the closet. Oh, true, I have the 90 day statute of limitations ticking slowly by, during which a lawsuit could be filed over my ministry. But... really, my days are more about things like reports to the congregation over whether we have bought the new hymnals yet, and choosing hymns for Sunday's worship service, and meeting with couples who like our sanctuary for their wedding, but who aren't so sure about the church thing.
So here's a rundown of my average day. Yesterday when I arrived at the office there were two gorgeous red bell peppers on my desk, placed there by my sexton, who's had a middling year with his garden. (No one's tomatoes did well this year. Too much rain.) I had a conference call with some of the leadership of our local denominational body, and then I had a brief meeting with our treasurer to sign some papers, and then I had a lunch with a woman whose child is ill, and then I started to write a sermon on Esther. (Fun fact: some believe Esther's name is related to Ishtar, the Babylonian goddess. Since it's an exilic story, that makes total sense.) Then I felt sleepy so I went across the street to get a soda at my locally convenient store. When I got back to the office I sent Beloved an email asking whether she might like stuffed peppers for dinner. She replied in the enthusiastic affirmative, which set off a recipe-googling contest during which we both tried to find just the right recipe. Since I was the cook, I chose the one I liked. I wrote until the wedding couple arrived, then I scared them with my plans for pre-marital counseling. After they left, I wrote until a member arrived with some stuff she needed to get off her chest. I packed up my gear, headed to the grocery store for the stuffings for the peppers, got home and cooked. Petra read some more to me from the website.
Today, I was flipping through my brother's math text book. The kid before him wrote: Condition Issued - Sexy, Condition Returned - Sexier. My brother is in second grade. My life is average.
Beloved arrived. She loves it when I cook. Really, really loves it. She sits on the steps in the kitchen and sips a glass of wine and grins contentedly while I work up a slight sweat rushing around. While waiting for the peppers to bake we watched the original "The Postman Always Rings Twice," complete with snarky commentary (from us). But gosh, is Lana Turner beautiful. We ate the peppers. Verdict: Delicious! Verdict for Lana Turner and John Carfield: Guilty! Verdict for acting in that film: Hume Cronyn pwned them all! Beloved went home, Petra went to bed, I surfed the net, I went to bed.
My life is average.