Monday, November 23, 2009

Two Weekends Ago

Here I am two weekends ago checking my glands on stage (I thought I was fighting a cold, but as it turns out, it was just a three week long allergy attack):

Our Coffeehouse Worship Team played a 45 minute set at The Rock Church's Block Party at an apartment complex. It was a pretty fun day that left us sunburnt and exhausted. Joe and I went to Casey's flag football game in the morning and then over to the Block Party. Dez spent the morning and the afternoon at the Block Party. By the time we all got to Coffeehouse that night, we were very red. Dez hurt for a few days, I think. But the tradeoff for her was getting to play Hokey Pokey (she says it was Red Rover, but I think that girl on the right is putting her left leg out, getting ready to shake it all about):

It was a great night at Coffeehouse that night -- 60 people showed up and we played lots and lots of music. Dez gave her testimony -- the whole night was just great.

The next day at church was Homecoming. In the weeks leading up to Homecoming, Dez and Winnie kept asking me "What is Homecoming?" I tried to explain to them that it's part anniversary of the church's founding and part reunion, but mostly it's an excuse for a lot of people to bring a lot of food and to share it with everyone. It's also a great excuse to get a southern gospel singing group to come in and lead worship on a Sunday morning. I didn't really know what to expect out of Royal City (they're the "Royal City" group from Auburndale, Florida if you want to look them up -- I tried to find a website for them to post here, but apparently "Royal City" is an extremely popular name for southern gospel groups -- I guess since "The Gaithers" was already taken, all the groups said, "Well, what the heck, let's just call ourselves "Royal City") -- but they were really really good. They had a guy who sang bass -- and he sang way way down beneath the bass clef staff -- no, really. We were just giggling in our pews we were so happy to hear that man sing so low! I'm pretty sure that back in the day of the cavemen, the man who could sing the lowest, not the one who caught the biggest woolly mammoth, got the girl. I can't explain that.

After the singing, we headed over to the fellowship hall for the food. Here are some pictures that Casey took with my camera (Casey is just like I was when I was little and we had "dinner on the grounds" at church -- I ate a piece of chicken and some mac and cheese and maybe a roll -- almost everything at a church dinner is mixed up food in a casserole -- there might be an onion or some other unpleasant texture in there, so I never risked it and Casey doesn't either, which explains why he finished eating the four spoonfuls of mac and cheese he had on his plate in 30 seconds flat and started playing with my camera):

A little blurry, but a nicely framed shot I think. Wait -- they get better -- he was just getting warmed up with this one.

Here's Grandma. Again, a nicely framed shot and it's in focus, not over or underexposed (as if I know what that means). But here's the best one:

Casey caught the moment before Mace abandoned the spoon altogether and started licking the chocolate off the plate. So sad when your six year old takes better pictures than you.

This time last year, I was filling you in on all the big Thanksgiving Day preparations. This year, I haven't even planned the menu yet, though there is a turkey in the freezer. We have two ovens in the house this year, so maybe I'll be able to get everything hot and to the table at the same time (cold whiskey-glazed carrots -- not so good). I'll let you know. Let me tell you what I won't be doing -- most of what I did last year. I'm sticking to mashed potatoes, turkey, gravy, green beans and sweet potatoes, plus whatever you're bringing with you.


  1. Testosterone lengthens vocal chords, which would explain why the bass player gets the girl.

  2. Kind of like when Elvis says "Hey mamma"

  3. . . . or when Joey says, "How YOU doin'?"
    I knew there must be a scientific explanation.


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