I wish we midwestern protestants took holy week more seriously. I long for a good friday march or something.
Today I kept thinking about that time at camp when there was a black snake coiled under Abigail's pillow... and it slithered out and bit some poor sixth grader on the hand... and caused the whole girls' cabin to dissolve into hysterics. That was crazy.
I don't know why I kept thinking about it. But it made me laugh out loud... an inconvenient thing when you're at the laundromat. I think when I am eighty, I will still laugh when that chaotic moment makes its way into my mind's eye...
At the laundromat, people talk about this and that. All the while, they're folding their unmentionables. I'm not kidding. Today, I was in the midst of a serious conversation about the virtues of Chick-Fil-A when I looked down and saw that I was holding a pair of bright green skivs. And no one cared. You cannot make this stuff up.
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