the end of a month

Frank's House, where I'll be holing up for the burgeoning
ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!

June rolls to a close, and a bittersweet month it’s been, though far more bitter than sweet. John’s dad passed away to cancer, and Corey’s mom was diagnosed with cancer (but is doing pretty well with chemo). Ams and Josh broke up, which isn’t as extreme as losing someone (or the threat of losing someone) to cancer, but losing someone you’ve lived with and loved for so long is an emotional hell no one wants to go through. But despite all the bad things June has brought, there have been high points: John & Brandy’s wedding, Rob’s visit from Portland, and of course Corey had a kickass time in Europe (he’s back and sitting across from me at The Anchor; he’s journaling and I’m blogging and we’re both drinking coffee; we’re like two peas in a pod right now). July has its fortunes of promise: Dad and I will be camping in Red River Gorge, my cousin Addison is getting married, and DYLAN RETURNS FROM AFRICA! My excitement cannot be contained. 

One of my ambitions for July is finishing 1 Peter 2.11-3.7 in my devotional-slash-bible-study thingie on 1 Peter. Another ambition is that I can keep up with this whole “quitting smoking” thing. I’ve made significant progress in June, more than I anticipated; I can say with confidence I’ve drastically cut back on how much I smoke. Now the time for the plunge has come: maybe at the end of July I can claim “smoke free” status, but I’m sure it won’t be without a fair share of mishaps, depression, and irritability. Withdrawal will be a bitch, of that I’m certain. But I don’t want to keep pushing women away with my tobacco scent, and nor do I want my future children to watch their father wither down to nothing as tobacco-induced cancer shrivels my body to a mere pasty skeleton.

[june meditations]

6.4 I smoked a cigar in the woods and was honest with God: I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, my life all but in shambles. I feel on the edge of a breakdown, tiptoeing along a precipice. I don't want this empty life anymore. Pursuing pleasure, knowledge, success, anything but God's kingdom is emptiness. This kind of life isn't for me, it doesn't fit right, it isn't my home. Others make it their own and revel in it, but I can't do that. I've tasted an intimate life with God, and I miss it. I've grieved God's Spirit, but his Spirit hasn't abandoned me. Although we be faithless, he is faithful. The Spirit reminds me of who I really am: God's child. I've been wayward, stubborn, and foolish, and it has cost me. But I believe there is yet hope, IF I return to God. Repentance is hard, damned hard, but easier than the lesson learned. I wanted to walk beside Christ again, and I want to become the man he wants me to be. The most beautiful thing is that I don't have to grovel for God's love, or beg for His mercy, or work for His grace. He gives it all lavishly at the first breath of repentance. We're so fortunate to have a Creator like our God.

6.11 "What's holding me back?" It is not I who live, but Christ in me. That's what I want my life to be like. Consumed by the Spirit, transformed into the person God wants me to be, not just a New Creation in name but a New Creation in word and deed. I want people to look at my life, see Christ in me, and marvel; I want to be condemned as a fool for Christ, I want love and the gospel to permeate my being, I want to turn the filthy menstrual rags of my life into priceless white satin. But I feel stuck, unable to move forward, held back; and by what?

(1) SHAME. I keep identifying myself not as a redeemed child of God but according to my sins. I am far from guiltless, a "chief of sinners." I hear that I am a New Creation, and I know that the evil of my past has been dealt with, that I have a new future in Christ, that God has good things in store for me and that he wants to do good things through me. But I can't seem to let go of my past, can't seem to grasp God's forgiveness and grace. I keep thinking, I've fucked up too much, I've gone too far, there's nothing left for me. My shame keeps me from accepting and embracing the good news of the gospel, that I'm not just loved but also liked by God, that he and I are cool and that he has much in store for me, if only I'll receive it.

(II) INSECURITIES. My self-image, you can imagine (given Point 1), is quite skewed. Not only is there insecurity due to shame, but I question my worth as an agent and herald for God's kingdom. If I'm honest, one of the main reasons for not pursuing ministry is due to insecurity: lots of interviews with churches went nowhere, and when interviews did seem promising, in the end I looked too young for any sort of adult ministry, and the coupling of my singleness and youthful looks barred me from youth ministry (and I'm not mad about that, it's a wise decision on the part of churches, just sucks to be on the ugly end of that stick). An awkward, short, pale and funny-looking guy such as myself seems to have no place in ministry; that's for the married folk and the older fellows. It's bullshit, of course, but churches operate as if it were gospel. So I stopped interviewing, decided I'd made a mistake going to CCU to pursue ministry, and consequently found myself lost. No small wonder that's when herbs came into the picture. It's great at making you forget disappointments. Ministry aside, I'm insecure as a child of God, questioning not primarily my worth or value as a minister as I am questioning my worth and value as a Christian. It's shame yet again, keeping me from trying to move forward, convinced that I'm eternally fucked up, that there's no way I can be the person God wants me to be.

Shame & Insecurity keeps holding me back, acting like a wall. And when I feel overwhelmed, it's far too easy to slip back into those old creature comforts. Truly, shame and insecurity keeps me rooted in place. All the while God, I believe, has lots in store for me, but I'm hesitant to "Get Up & Walk." That's what Christ is telling me, the same thing he told the lame men at the pool of Bethsaida: "Get Up and Walk." Like the lame man, I've been healed, and Christ is telling me to start acting like it. Am I too content to get up and move, so stuck in my own issues that I refuse to pick up my mat and walk about town? "I'm a lame man. Sure, Christ has healed me. But I've identified as a lame man for so long, I'm not sure I can do it!" But the lame man was no longer lame, and he took up his mat and walked. He's an example I must emulate.

6.20 Shame and Insecurities indeed play their role in holding me back, but a third barrier would be FEAR, and a specific fear: the fear that I'll die young and soon, that my life's basicaly over and I'm just waiting to die as my young body's consumed by cancer or some incurable disease. Spawned by the events of May last year, this paranoia came out of nowhere, staining my life. Panic attacks, sleepless nights, overwhelming stress: I felt crippled, unable to function. Slowly things got better, and I was able to use rational thoughts to counter the irrational ones. I KNOW I'm healthy, I KNOW I probably have a long life ahead of me; tests have been done showing, scientifically, that I'm doing quite well. But the fear, you see, is still there. A year ago I thought I'd be dead within the year; a year later, I'm still fearing the same thing. The fear poisons my attempts to inaugurate change, for if the fear is legitimate, then what's the point? "Why start Graduate School and leave my family to pay off the loans on top of funeral costs? Why stop smoking and why start running and biking if I'll be dead soon? Why work on myself to be a good husband and a good father if I won't live long enough to taste those gifts anyways? And why even engage in any sort of 'sharing of life' with someone, investing into someone, if they'll just be hurt by my sudden death come the end?" This fear feels immovable, and I'm at its mercies. All I can do, really, is pray; and kill the fear as it raises its ugly head. But resisting yourself is pointless if the fear's legitimate, and my paranoia tells me that's the case. A vicious cycle.

6.23 God has so much for me, if only I take it. My spirituality has been dichotomous between the flesh and the Spirit. I'm driven more by my desires than by the Spirit within me; I make decisions based on MY desires rather than God's. The result is an anemic faith, a malnourished vine bearing dry and wrinkled fruit. This hole in my life, that vacuum from when I started forfeiting prayer, I try to fill with superficial rituals: house church, reading the Bible, elaborate prayers, all meant to try and suave a guilty conscience without risking complete submission and surrender to God, without the potential hurt of having to die to myself and live to Christ. I'm a decent person, sure, but I'm not a New Creation. I've focused so much on conscience-soothing practices that I've neglected the core altogether: union with Christ. Who I am now--a weak, sad, fear-riddled man barely holding on as life's difficulties surmount--isn't the person God wants me to be. He wants me to be a new sort of person, not an upgraded Anthony but a man of God whose real name is written in the Book of Life. He wants me to be consumed by the Spirit, and a man in whom flourishes the fruit of the Spirit, a man not driven by the desires of the flesh (that all-too-common craving for power, pleasure, and prestige--but by the Spirit, a man known for his peace, hope, and joy rather than for his crippling fear, paranoia, and regret. I'm holding myself back from what God has for me by refusing to relinquish control, refusing to surrender totally to the will of God. And why? Oh, the Usual Suspects: the shame, the insecurities, the fear. But let's not forget the doubt: I doubt that God cares for me, and consequently I doubt he'll take care of me. These doubts stem from my College Years, my own little microcosm of the Depression Era, when I sabotaged my own future and blamed God for it, refusing to own up to my responsibility because I couldn't bear to be the one to blame. We love scapegoats, and God's always a prime choice (but an erroneous one). The way out of this life and into the next isn't by way of external changes: I must kneel before the Throne in prayer, spend time listening to God like I did long before, and I must actively and diligntly crucify all that is fleshly within me and embrace life by the Spirit. It is not I who live, but Christ in me. That's the goal. God help me.

6.24 My confidence and trust in God took a plunge in 2006 following losing Julie, and a graver plunge after losing Courtney. The depression, the disappointment, the emotional hell made me question God's disposition towards me. "Why would he do this to me if he cares for me?" I blamed God, but really I was to blame. My own selfish decisions dug the grave I found myself in. Likewise, surveying the past four years, blame for most disappointments lies with ME. My actions and decisions have consequences, and when Self is the motivator, things can get mucky. I ask God, "How long until you do something?" and he counters, "How long until you get your shit together?" (I paraphrase, of course) My mind grew dark towards God and my heart grew cold. I stopped trusting and I stopped praying. But as I've been praying more and more, God has been showing me things. He's showing me that all the while I questioned his love for me and ran off my own steam, he was the one performing damage control. He didn't let me go too far, and he reminded me constantly of who I really am. God's presence in my life is seen in how he's kept me from wandering off completely, how he's sustained me in my darkest moments, how he's always been there drawing me to himself. 

the 29th week

Isaac and Andy @ The Anchor

Monday. DeJuan and I opened. Sarah brought in some more of her homemade oil. Blake came in to get an iced Americano. I spent the afternoon hanging out with him and playing Birds of Steel, and the Loth House centered around hockey—Blackhawks vs. Bruins—and coloring around the perimeter. I did lots of reading Inferno: the blossoming of the Pacific Theater at Pearl Harbor and America’s entrance into the war. I showered and prayed (simultaneously, a multi-tasker!) and this is what I have to say: in my prayers, thoughts, and meditations, I’m always coaxing my heart in terms of trying to “win back” God’s favor. I’m in the rut of seeing myself as an “outsider,” though I never was the sort. Prodigal? Sure! But not “cut off”. All the same, the insecurities, my own refusal to accept that (a) God likes me for some reason and (b) the two of us are “cool” holds me from moving forward. So ensnared to the past, identifying myself along the lines of my past, prevents me not just from seeing that “all is well” but also from doggedly pursuing Christlikeness: after all, wouldn’t I just be “faking it,” since that’s not the “real” me, after all? The reality, though, is that God DOES like me, God DOES care for me, and I don’t have to keep groveling at his feet like a pitiful dog pining for scraps.

Tuesday. An uneventful day: I worked until 1:00, spent the afternoon playing Birds of Steel, and then hiked over to the Loth House to watch some Game of Thrones with Amos. I rounded out the night reading about the early Japanese conquests in the Pacific: Wake, Guam, Singapore and Burma.

Wednesday. Jessie was in town from Illinois, so she and Brittany came over after work and we grabbed dinner at IHOP and spent the evening laughing our asses off in the living room. I told Jessie about all that happened with the Wisconsinite, and she was shocked that she’d suggest trying it again and then call it off in virtually the same breath. No hurt was intended, of course, and though there’s residual anger, not a bone in my body is malevolent towards her. This proves, at least to me, that when I told her I loved her, I meant it. But at this point I’ve come to accept that my dream of being with her was, like all my dreams erally, nothing short of an illusion. Disappointment after disappointment only serves to reinforce the conviction that such shall be the theme of my life, despite my attempts, fanatical at times, to reverse such fortunes.

Thursday. Torrential rains fell all day. I spent the evening playing Birds of Steel, reading about the Japanese conquest of the Philippines and clashes in the Coral Sea and at Midway, the battles of Guadalcanal and Papua New Guinea. The rain kept me from doing anything exciting: as it turns out, my car doesn’t handle the rain very much, and so I had no choice but to cancel on Small Group. My car literally can’t drive in the rain!

Mom’s 49^th Birthday. I was scheduled till 1:45 but left at 12:15 since we were so slow. I spent the afternoon napping and watching TV, grabbed Subway for dinner, and then headed downtown for the VIP soft opening of Bob’s new brewery, Rhinegeist. The place was PACKED. Bob hooked us up with free drinks: I had the Cougar Golden Ale, and it was phenomenal. Luke, the brewer, sure knows his stuff. Amos and I drank our beers with Eric & Tiffany, and Cat and her new boy-toy. Amos and I spent the rest of the night playing Mario-Kart “200 cc,” a game invented by John & Brandy. It messes you up.

Saturday. I ran downtown to deposit my paycheck, and Amos and I grabbed Dusmesh for lunch. Isaac returned to the States from his European escapades, and Amos joined us at the apartment for an evening of chill relaxation and storytelling.

Sunday. Andy, Isaac and I grabbed coffee at The Anchor and Isaac spun all sorts of stories from his time on the other side of the Atlantic. I stopped downtown on my way home to do the USFoods order and spent the afternoon reading and writing. Ams and Traci came by, and we all hung out. People filtered out, and I played 200cc Birds of Steel alone and then went to bed.

[rhinegeist brewery]

Bob’s latest pet project has finally opened its doors, another micro-brewery here in Cincinnati, wedged in west side of Over the Rhine. Featuring four western-style beers, on the hoppier end but not without some milder beers for people like me who don’t like a world full of hops (unless, of course, we’re talking about rabbits), Rhinegeist Brewery and Tap Room is another staple to the ritzed-up Over the Rhine. I don’t find myself in Over the Rhine that often; it’s simply not my crowd. The place floods with preppy kids and college students, hipsters and party boys. None of that is appealing to me. It always makes me laugh when I see college girls taking Instagram pictures downtown, basically their attempt to say, “Look how cool I am, I just went to Bakersfield and then got drinks at 1215!” Their ignorance of the area is obvious with their scant dress and how they swirl their purses at the side. Just a street over, there’s murders, drug deals, and gangs; but hipsters tend to live in their own private world, and such things don’t cross their minds. I enjoyed visiting Rhinegeist for the soft opening, drinking beers with Amos and the Tomeos and Cat and her boyfriend. I ran into lots of people who come through the coffee shop, and that was sort of awkward: it’s weird running into customers outside the workplace, when they’re “people” rather than customers you’ve got to bend the knee to.

on spiritual gifts

some ruins at Corinth

A few days ago I got to talk with an old friend for quite a while. Ever since Kyle got married and moved hours away, we haven’t talked that often; but I like how we can talk as if no time has passed at all. He landed a job far north working at a church, but he says that may not be lasting too much longer. “The church just can’t handle me,” he said, “or I can’t handle the church. One of the two.” He asked me if I was doing anything in a church, and I told him I wasn’t. He was sad to hear I wasn’t teaching, because I’m an “excellent teacher” (his words). I told him about how I tried applying for churches for about a year or two, had dozens of interviews, preached at several places, but nothing ever came of it: “Turns out church folk don’t want a young looking guy preaching or an unmarried young looking guy doing youth ministry.” His advice was keen: “Screw ‘em. It’s part of the effed-up mindset of the church.” 

Just the other day I did one of those “Spiritual Gift” tests online. They’re so much quicker and convenient on the IPhone. My top rating was that of Teacher, no surprise. Kyle’s was that of an apostle, equally not a surprise. Long ago we dabbled in the idea of starting our own low-key house church, him doing the evangelistic stuff, me being the cultivator through teaching within the church. 

Jessie, in town for a bit from Illinois, came over to my place with Brittany at her side, and we grabbed IHOP for dinner and then nestled in the living room talking about all sorts of things, and “spiritual gifts” came up. As we talked, I couldn’t help but think of the Corinthian church and modern-day parallels. The Corinthians esteemed some gifts above others; in their gatherings, speaking in tongues became a litmus test for one’s devotion for God. Paul railed against this, and sadly 2000 years of church history hasn’t changed the landscape. To this day we are apt to vault some spiritual gifts above others; those spiritual gifts which find themselves in the lime-light, such as evangelism, teaching, or preaching, are seen as those “gifts” in which a person’s devotion to God is paramount. I can’t tell you the number of people I met in college, much like myself, who pursued vocational ministry not out of love for God but out of an ambition to prove their devotion. Spiritual gifts operating in the shadows are sidelined so that those who are gifted with, say, compassion, mercy, or intercession are seen as “less spiritual,” somehow a cut below those whose devotion and loyalty to God is evident under the spotlight. 

The reality is that the person whose heart burns for the lost and carves a living in the front line trenches is no more or less a woman of God than the quiet introvert whose heart yearns to provide sustenance and encouragement to the troops several miles behind the front lines. As with the army, so it is with the church: some are called to vocational evangelism, others to be teachers, others to be caretakers of the flock. Making any gift or role superior to another is to fall victim to the same skewed vision of the Corinthians, and such a perception gives birth to pride in those who happen to be called to the “front lines” and insecurity in those who find themselves more at home “behind the scenes.”

the importance of being foolish (VIII)

Chapter Six: The Work of the Kingdom (III)

"The only possible way to move out of our obsessive self-awareness and into the life of Christ is to surrender ourselves and let God be God. Such a surrender involves mining the field of our hearts and searching for this pearl of God's truth hidden deep within us: we belong to God."

"This loving awareness of being the child of the Father moves us out of a life spent pursuing our base desires and frees us to pursue the kingdom of God. We no longer have to live lives bifurcated by our needs. Everything we have and are forms but one self, one heart beating with the lifeblood of Jesus. There can be no firmness of character or consistency of conduct without this courageous self-affirmation. Paul said, 'I no longer lives, but Christ lives in me' (Galatians 2:20). Therein lies transparency."

"So often we are self-moved and self-motivated rather than moved and motivated by the Spirit. When our sense of self is derived from our base desires, we act in ways intended to win approval, avoid criticism, or escape rejection... When we put on the mind of Christ and focus our thinking and behavior on the kingdom of God, we can begin to evaluate our choices, our decisions, and our motivations with new clarity. We move from a place of sleepwalking through our lives and being driven by our most earthbound instincts to a place of living in full consciousness of our position as heirs of the Most High God."

"In some ways, this process of focusing our lives on the mind and work of Jesus involves distancing ourselves from the world around us in an effort to break away from our dysfunctions and addictions. To them we appear foolish and misguided. Thus this kind of focus cannot happen without a daily--even hourly--decision to surrender to the sway of the Spirit."

Manning quotes Ralph Martin: "Very soon in a serious life of faith we must renounce our bondage to darkness, we must be freed from our attachment to those things that hold us back from a pure surrender to the action of God in us. We must live out totally those renunciations we made in our baptism and which we ratify at every Easter Vigil. And it is here we find great difficulty, and meet with the obstacles of selfishness, sensuality, ambition, resentment, pride, fear, etc."

"Our dedication to growth is the single most important determinant of our spiritual development. Without an intense inner commitment, we are little more than dilettantes playing spiritual games. The pearl of great price--the mind of Christ--must be the most treasured value in our lives, and we must seek it in persevering prayer, in sacramental healing, and in the strength of the Christian community. Only then will the miracle of transparency, love, and oneness unfold in our lives... It is God's will that we grow in holiness (1 Thessalonians 4:7), know the truth that makes us free (John 8.:32), and rejoice with a joy that no one can take from us (John 16:22)."

"To think like Jesus is to experience being loved so completely by God that we are existentially incapable of being other than the children of the Father in Jesus Christ. It is overwhelmingly joyful news, and we become overwhelmingly joyful people because of it. We cannot contain it because love by its nature is meant to be shared. We realize that all men and women are loved in the same way but recognize that many are unaware of it. They are locked into loneliness, fear, alienation, apathy, and ignorance. No one has told them of all the things that happened in Jerusalem; they are like sheep without a shepherd."

"Our awareness of God becomes the birthplace of a consuming zeal and a towering desire to 'tell it on the mountain.' We are driven by the Spirit to proclaim by word and example the peace, justice, and forgiving love of our God... It is the loving awareness of God's holiness in Jesus Christ coupled with a deep compassion for redeemed humanity that creates the imperative of Christian mission."

"Everything given up is given back and experienced in a new way through the transforming power of the indwelling Spirit. Security, pleasure, and power are at the service of love and are integrated into the total Christian personality. The spiritual schizophrenia that has absorbed so much time and drained so much strength ceases. An immense amount of energy is now available for the building of the kingdom. The unremitting peace and joy that flows from union with God and God's world are the triumphant fruits of the Holy Spirit and the goal of the Christian pilgrimage."

""[The] worldview of those who see with the eyes and mind of Christ continues to be a wedding between personal spirituality and liberation theology. With Jesus we long for the unity of the global community, the dawning of the day when the lion will lie down with the lamb, East and West will know each other's language, black and white will really communicate, cities of apathy and despair will experience the sunshine of a better life, and all men and women will rejoice in the Spirit that makes us one. The sense of oneness with the created world and our own freedom in the Spirit and awareness that liberation and liberty are the nucleus of the message of Jesus directs our attention to the emancipation of the world. We cannot claim to have the mind of Christ and remain insensitive to the oppression of our brothers and sisters. We cannot stay oblivious to the world's struggle for redemption, freedom, and peace. We know that the good done to the poor... is done to Jesus himself. We know that we must commit ourselves to concrete action on behalf of liberation. There are things to be done."

"The fire of Pentecostal freedom must be cast upon the darkness of oppressive and dehumanizing structures, institutions, and situations. The saving work of Jesus Christ will remain unfinished until it is kindled... As Christians with the mind of Christ, we must ask of our world, 'Who are the oppressors and who are the oppressed?' The Spirit of God may drive us into the desert to sigh, cry, and pray for freedom for all humanity, into the arena of national or local politics to legislate it, into the marketplace to preserve it, into the bosom of our families to revitalize it, or into the heart of our own moribund churches to recreate it."

"The church as the visible body of the Lord is committed to achieving global freedom, to participate in the construction of a just social order, and to stimulating and radicalizing the dedication of Christians. The holy alliance between contemplation and action can revitalize the church's presence in the world and make its commitment to the Lordship of Jesus deeper and more radical."

the 28th week

from the Loth House

Monday. I hugged Rob bye on my way out the door for work: he’s heading back to Oregon. DeJuan and I opened. I was home by 1:15, napped till about 5:00, and spent the evening with the Usual Crew at the Loth House. John and Brandy were gone, of course, honeymooning in the Dominican Republic. We watched Billy Madison and I cureld up on the sofa with Clover to do some reading. I was reading A Short History of World War II by Stokesbury, but I left it on top of Ams’ car the other day and she sped off with it. I searched the roads leading to the highway but didn’t see it. So I’ve been reading a not-so-short history of World War 2 called Inferno. I’ve been consuming it with passion: the German and Russian blitzkrieg of Poland, the Russian invasion of Finland and the German assault on Norway; the Fall of France and the establishment of the French Vichy government is fascinating. The Battle of Britain was covered nicely, and now I’m reading through the North African and Greece campaigns.

Tuesday. I opened with DeJuan who was 1 ½ hours late. I headed up to Amos’ after work, and we ate some gourmet mushrooms and played video games. I didn’t get home until 11:30 PM.

Wednesday. I worked till 2:00. A super cute girl was in the café all day. I flirted with her but I’m pretty sure she didn’t catch on. Damn: I need to hone my skills (or at least acquire some). My afternoon was spent (a) watching Dexter and (b) reading ‘bout the Axis campaigns in Greece and the Middle East. After some Mario-Kart at the Loth House with Amos, Ams, and Andy, I spent some time in good, honest-to-God prayer. I’m not “good” at prayer, so it was nice.

The Last Day of Spring. Sarah F. and I opened together. I did some writing after work and then met up with Amos and we went to the Hilltop Café at C.C.U. to hang out with Karen and Andy, who were working, and to chill with the Tomeo’s: Fact or Crap, wrestling with Lennon, and murdering my legs playing ping-pong against Eric in my classic, erratic fashion were the highlights of the evening. I was home by 10:00 but didn’t fall asleep until 3 AM. Insomnia kept me up, and I utilized the time to pray and think. Often I ask myself, “Where did my intimacy with God go?” The answer is simple: when I started questioning prayer itself and then stopped praying altogether. A plant withers without nourishment.

The First Day of Summer. Also: my 2-year anniversary with Tazza Mia! I was going to celebrate it at work (is this something one should celebrate?) but the day was far too crazy for it: Sarah called off sick, so I worked both Food Prep and shift supervisor. We ran out of spinach and eggs and people were in foul moods. On a positive note, Tibbles came in with the Tiblets, and it’s always fun playing with them. Mom dropped off a dryer on her way home from Kentucky (ours crapped out). My evening was spent at Frank’s, hanging out with him and Rebecca, and Brandon stopped by, too. We played GTA IV and Frank made cheesy rice and chicken.

Saturday. Such a boring, droll day. Highlights: coffee from UDF, Birds of Steel, and a DiGiorno Supreme Pizza for lunch. Ams came over and we watched documentaries on the birth of the earth and the pre-Cambrian explosion. I was enthralled, she was bored out of her mind. But she let me watch the shows anyways.

Sunday. I ran downtown to do the food order and ran into Tibbles. She told me they got a puppy and Eric’s fanatical about it. The man loves dogs, and I totally understand: I love Sky and am in an illicit love affair with another dog, Clover. I spent the morning drinking coffee, cleaning, writing, and reading: the German invasion of Russia, the failure to take Moscow, and the siege of Leningrad (modern-day St. Petersburg). Blake came home and we played NBA Jam and I fixed brown rice, “cinnamon chicken,” black-eyed peas and hushpuppies for dinner before going over to the Loth House to hang out with Amos and Ams: Call of Duty and Lord of the Rings on cable. John and Brandy rolled in around 2 AM, it’ll be good to have them around again.