update[z]

Hanging out at Swaim Park before work in Blue Ash...

Last night was a milestone: I didn't dream about Mandy. I dreamt that I was in the middle of a postapocalyptic world. The electricity was gone, and bandits roamed the streets. The last postapocalyptic dream did have Mandy in it (I remember the phones were out, and I was so upset that I wasn't able to get a hold of her in Wisconsin, and I was loading up my car to travel up there despite my family's wishes). This time there was a girl, but it was a different girl, and for me, that's a big deal. I should celebrate with some bourbon and a cigar (or a bourbon-soaked cigar; I've seen those somewhere...)

I'm three weeks into my "reformation" in regards to physique, and already I have seen a marked improvement in how much I'm able to lift. For example, three weeks ago I struggled to do three sets of 12 reps with a 25-pound weight. This afternoon I did thirteen sets of 12 reps, along with various other exercises. I'm focusing on all my muscles and doing push-ups and crunches every day (sit-ups can be bad for your back, and you know how often my back gets thrown out). I'm excited to see what I'm capable of come December. My goal is to be able to pull off the "Navy Seals PT Requirements" by December, which includes 200 push-ups in 2 minutes, 200 sit-ups in 2 minutes, and running 1.5 miles in ten minutes. A big part of why I'm doing this is just to prove to myself that I can. These past couple years have been filled with all sorts of "failures", and I want to succeed at something, especially something I never imagined possible.

What if I end up becoming like my father?

What if I *GULP* become an Iron Man?

One thing's for sure: I won't be drinking Coronas after the races.

Well, that's not necessarily true; I do have a soft spot for Rolling Rock...

In the meantime I've been applying to ministry jobs left and right. A church in Kentucky seemed pretty stoked about me working there, but I haven't heard anything for a couple weeks, so that'll probably come to nothing. "Churches are known for being notoriously slow," Jessie told me. It seems like it'd be a really good fit for what I'm looking for, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. A church in Ohio near West Virginia has pushed me through to the "second stage" interviewing process, and a church in northern Michigan (not as far as the U.P.) is interested in me as a youth minister. We will see if anything comes of this; they always send out questionnaires, and they always ask about certain positions on doctrine. "What do you believe about this, or that, or this here?" They feel like trick questions; "Tell us what you believe, and if we agree, we might consider hiring you." I'm an odd breed when it comes to theology, so I may be shooting myself in the foot by answering the questions honestly. 

I cooked Ben a pot roast. He ate the whole thing.

"That's like four thousand calories, Man."

"Thank you!" he exclaims.

He's also drinking an energy-infused soda.

"I'm gonna be bouncing off the walls!" he screams.

So I take some of the 20-ounce soda and pour it down the drain.

"Why did you do that, Ganthony Rollhart?"

"Because I bought it for you, and I can't handle your energy right now."

I've been trying to practice some spiritual disciplines to bring me a little bit of clarity and peace of mind. One such discipline is that of silence; I've been going to Mount Echo and perching atop a rotten log I used to pace back in my college days. I sit there in the dirt and just close my eyes, clear my mind, focus on my breathing, let the world lift off my shoulders. I haven't found any clarity, nor peace of mind, but I've found new strength. Perhaps God in His wisdom knows that's what I need most: not clarity, not peace of mind, but strength, to get through this difficult season in my life. I've also been practicing lectio divina, an old monastic method of reading scripture and letting it speak to you. I've been focusing on the Psalms, and every night I pray through a Psalm, letting it infect me in the marrow of my bones.

"You are a good, single guy," Ben says.

He asks, "Are you and Mandy getting back together?"

I tell him No, we're not.

"Do you want an Italian girl?"

No.

"Do you want a Russian girl?"

No.

"Do you want a Paris girl?"

"You mean French girl? Gross. They don't shave their armpits."

"What about an Alaskan girl?"

"Yes, actually. I'd like an Alaskan girl."

I've been contemplating moving away from Cincinnati. I've already mentioned this, but I feel like my time in Cincinnati is drawing to a close. I don't really have anything keeping me here. I'd really like to move due to a job, but I've been thinking about moving out to the cornfields of Illinois and spending a year or two out there with Jessie & Tony. I think it'd be fun, and it'd be a change of pace. But at the same time, most of my friends and family are here in Cincinnati, and this isn't a time I want to be lonely... So many conflicting feelings. Best to take a deep breath and let things unfold as they will.

"How is your wife doing?" Ben asks.

"I'm not married, Ben."

"Oh, I thought you were."

"No, I was going to be married, but she called things off."

"OH MY GOD! I'm so sorry, Man!"

"Ben, I've told you this, like, nineteen times."

"Do you want me to find you a new girlfriend?"

"I don't think you're the matchmaker I'm looking for."

My hours at Walk of Joy are being reduced, which is a good thing: Chase quit Tazza Mia to take Andy's position at the Hilltop (Andy moved to Portland to join Corey & Mandy H. a few weeks ago), and Chloe is going to be unable to work beginning at the end of August. Thus my hours at the cafe are being increased. The good news is that I'll have Mondays off completely, and the first Monday my new hours go into effect, I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn, drive down to Red River Gorge, and just hike the day away before dinner at The Rock House (burger and beer!). This September Dad and I are going to go on a mini vacation out to Pennsylvania, visiting some historical sites from the French & Indian War: Fort Necessity, Braddock's Road, Jumonville Glen, and Fort Pitt on the confluence of the Monongahela and Allegheny!

Ben lifts his plate. "I ate it all!"

Good job, Ben.

"Oh my God," he says. "I just... I just need a minute."

"Did you eat too much?"

"Look at me! I'm Tim Allen!" (from the Santa Claus)

"You should put a shirt on, Ben."

"I don't think I can get up... Ganthony?"

"What's that, Box Turtle?"

"I think I need some Miralax..."

Oh boy.