Busy

I'm sorry for the lack of posts this week, but the past few days have been pretty busy for me. I have collected my first set of essays from all five classes, so I've spent a lot of time grading--time I could have been blogging at the office! This busy spell will likely run until the middle of next week, so I may not post much.

Compounding the situation, tonight I'll be spending the night at the doctor's office getting a sleep test to see if I have sleep apnea, so tonight I get to sleep with wires connecting me to all sorts of machines that will measure all sorts of stuff. I hope I sleep!

I'll talk to y'all soon.

Update: They woke me up this morning just about the time I got to sleeping good. Actually, all the wires didn't bother me that much--it was the blood oxygen sensor that I had to wear on my finger all night that nearly drove me crazy.

When the guy came in to wake me up and take all the electrodes off, I asked him why he hadn't brought me any coffee. He said he didn't know how to make coffee. What's a girl got to do to get a guy to bring her coffee in bed?

Why Bother?

Last night Husband and I were sitting on the couch watching Survivor (yeah, yeah, I know) when a political ad came on—one of those where one senate candidate bad-mouths the other senate candidate. When it was over, I threw my hands up in the air and said, “I give up. I’m finished with the whole mess.”

Husband replied, “I’ve been trying to tell you that all along. It doesn’t make any difference who you vote for; they all lie and they all do the same s**t once they get elected.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I should’ve listened to you years ago.” Husband was very satisfied with that response, as you can imagine.

Last night when I said I was finished, I really meant it, but this morning I’m not so sure. I find myself lately going back and forth on whether to vote. All my life I have heard that voting is a right, a privilege, and, in fact, a duty for all good Americans. “If you don’t vote, you don’t have a right to complain,” I’ve heard. “Brave men fought and died so that you can exercise this choice that others don’t enjoy,” people say. I’ve heard all the rhetoric.

The problem is that if I vote, I want my choice to be a responsible one. I feel that if I decide on a candidate based on what the political ads say, I’ll be basing my choice on misinformation. Candidates frequently use these ads to tout their own voting records and criticize the voting records of their opponents. “So and so voted against increased funding for education; he doesn’t care about our children.” “Candidate Q voted for allowing convicted criminals to walk free without serving all of their sentence; he’s not tough on crime.” What these types of statements don’t tell you is that the education bill that So and so voted for had an amendment that would allow millions of dollars for the study of blue-headed desert fish in Alaska or other such nonsense and that the bill Candidate Q voted for was simply to clear the prisons of petty criminals like shoplifters and recreational marijuana users. Most political ads are designed to play on the emotions of the voters, rather than to convey really useful information.

If I want to make a truly informed choice, I have to spend tremendous amounts of time researching each candidate’s background; I have to read the entire text of bills that he or she voted on, bills that the candidate probably didn’t read all the way through; I have to attend town-hall-styled meetings and question and answer sessions—if the candidate is brave enough to take questions from an audience; I have to listen to debates; the list goes on. All this research takes up valuable time that could be spent on much more productive activities (like writing this blog). The truth is that most voters will not take the time to do the research necessary to make an informed choice. Instead, most voters will decide on the basis of half-truthful political ads and on the flyers they receive in the mail. Some voters will even decide based on which candidate is better looking.

None of this even takes into account the election scandals that have become so frequent lately. The newspapers are full of accounts of voter fraud in various places. The Diebold company has received plenty of criticism on how easy it is to hack into their touch-screen voting machines. I am not necessarily more confident in the machines that I was with the "chads" system in Florida.

All things considered, I believe that voting is much more trouble than it’s worth. Why go and vote if I’m not going to take the time to make an informed decision, and why take all that time away from other activities that make better use of my time?

If I really believe what the bible says in Romans 13:1, I would not even give a second thought to the political process. Paul tells us that “there is no authority except from God, and the authorities that exist are appointed by God.” In verse 4, Paul goes on to say that the ruling authorities are “God’s ministers.” Daniel 2:21 agrees with Paul’s sentiment, stating, “[God] changes the times and the seasons; he removes kings and raises up kings.” Lest we believe that only the ‘good’ rulers are appointed by God, we should remember what God said about the Babylonian ruler Nebuchadnezzar: “Therefore the LORD Almighty says this: “Because you have not listened to my words, I will summon all the peoples of the north and my servant Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon,” declares the LORD, “and I will bring them against this land and its inhabitants and against all the surrounding nations. I will completely destroy them and make them an object of horror and scorn, and an everlasting ruin” (Jeremiah 25: 8-9). God called Nebuchadnezzar “my servant” and used him to fulfill a plan that God had in mind.

If I believe that back then God had a plan for the world and put rulers and kings and governments in place to accomplish that purpose, then the same must be true today. Does God need me to vote in order to make sure that his plan is accomplished? I think not. Why, then, do I feel that I must vote? Because society says that’s what I must do.

That said, when election day comes along, despite the fact that I have not spend an adequate amount of time researching the candidates, I will likely go to the polls and cast a vote. Instead of trusting that God really is in control of such matters and that all authorities are in place because of him and not because of me, I will likely cave into the pressure that society places on me and stand in the line in order to be able to say that I did my duty.

This Week Offers an Opportunity for Real Diplomacy

According to Webster.com, “diplomacy” is defined as 1) the art and practice of conducting negotiations between nations, and 2) skill in handling affairs without arousing hostility. A synonym listed for the word is “tact.”

President Bush has said that diplomacy is the best way to keep Iran from developing nuclear weapons. Certainly this is correct. However, I have to wonder just how hard the Bush administration has tried to achieve real diplomacy. From everything I hear and read in the news, no real diplomacy is occurring. It seems that the only “negotiations” going on between the U.S. and Iran is for our government to make a demand and for Iraq to defy that demand. As far as I can gather, no real face to face negotiations have taken place.

Tomorrow both President Bush and Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad are scheduled to speak at the United Nations. This seems to me the perfect opportunity for the two leaders to sit down at the same table and speak to each other frankly about what each of them wants. However, the Bush administration is going to great lengths to keep the two leaders from even passing each other in the halls of the U.N.:

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad claims he'll dog President Bush this week at the United Nations to force the U.S. leader into a face to face debate over Iran's nuclear program, but the White House is taking extreme measures to keep that from happening.

For starters, Ahmadinejad won't be attending a welcoming reception for world leaders that Bush is hosting Tuesday night at the U.N. Asked if Ahmadinejad had even been invited, a senior administration official told the New York Daily News, "Definitely not."

The Iranian press quoted Ahmadinejad saying last week that Bush officials "did not accept this debate, but I hope that they agree and this debate takes place."

The White House also isn't pleased that Bush and Ahmadinejad are both scheduled to address the U.N. General Assembly on Tuesday. U.S. officials were quietly working to see if the Iranian's talk could be moved to later in the week, hoping to avoid a confrontation between the two leaders in the halls and ensuring that the always colorful Ahmadinejad doesn't steal the day's headlines. (Read the rest of the article here.)

Bush says that he wants diplomacy to work, but instead of taking the opportunity to speak to Ahmadinejad while he is here in the United States, Bush is going to snub the man that he claims he wants to come to an agreement with. This attitude does not resemble anything like “tact.”

What would be so wrong with the two men sitting down together and each laying his cards on the table for the other to see? The Iranian leader claims that he wants a debate, so why not give him the chance for one while he is here? Would Bush look weak for sitting down with his adversary? On the contrary, I believe that if Bush were to meet with Ahmadinejad, he would look stronger. Right now many people perceive Bush as a little bully, someone whose slogan is “my way or the highway.” By meeting with the Iranian president, he could tremendously improve his image and gain respect as a leader who is sincere and truly confident in his convictions. If Ahmadinejad is not sincere in his call for a dialogue with Bush, then that will become evident, and a meeting with Bush will expose him as a fraud. Bush would then be able to tell the rest of the world, “I told you so.”

Bush’s cloak of confidence is actually a prideful, egoistic conceit. Instead of listening to his handlers, our president should be the confident leader that he claims to be and take Ahmadinejad at face value. A try at real diplomacy will expose both men’s true intentions. Maybe that’s what our president is afraid of.

I know you've been waiting with baited breath!

"Musings From the Chariot" has finally been updated, for those of you who are interested.

What does baited breath smell like anyway?

Milestone

From an actual conversation between some girls in my class as we were waiting for time for class to begin:

(The conversation was about concerts that they had been to lately and concerts they'd like to attend.)

Girl #1: I'd like to go to a Motley Crue concert. (This was really funny because she's such a sweet looking young little 18-year-old. I couldn't imagine her listening to '80's metal bands.)

Girl #2: Who's Motley Crue?

At this point, my jaw dropped to the floor in amazement.

Girl #1: They're a classic rock band. My dad listens to them.

At this point, I was shocked. "Oh my God," I said in complete amazement and horror. "Oh my God!" For a couple of moments all I could say was "Oh my God" and shake my head back and forth in disbelief. The realization hit me that people I went to high school with, if they started having kids right out of high school, could actually have kids attending college now. That idea, coupled with the idea that Motley Crue is a "classic rock band"--well, I don't have a word for how I felt at the moment except for hurt.

My students realized that I was having "a moment," and they were sympathetic, but they could never understand the gravity of what I was experiencing right then. After a few minutes I was fine and class began and I forgot about it. But yesterday at 9:35 a.m. I inched a little farther away from youth and a little closer to middle age.

I Was Rendered Speechless for a Moment

My mouth nearly hit the floor when I read this just now. You can read the entire article here.

Air Force chief: Test weapons on testy U.S. mobs
WASHINGTON (AP) -- Nonlethal weapons such as high-power microwave devices should be used on American citizens in crowd-control situations before being used on the battlefield, the Air Force secretary said Tuesday.

The object is basically public relations. Domestic use would make it easier to avoid questions from others about possible safety considerations, said Secretary Michael Wynne.

"If we're not willing to use it here against our fellow citizens, then we should not be willing to use it in a wartime situation," said Wynne. "(Because) if I hit somebody with a nonlethal weapon and they claim that it injured them in a way that was not intended, I think that I would be vilified in the world press."

If he really feels that way, I think he and his friends should be the first guinea pigs. And why stop with non-lethal weapons? Why not just go ahead and test how effective the lethal ones are while they're at it? As bad as that sounds, I think it may come to that one day.

Guilty Without Proof

In an effort to allow victims of childhood sexual abuse to seek retribution from their alleged perpetrators years after the statute of limitations has expired, the Ohio legislature has enacted a law that would create a “civil registry” of people who have been accused of but not charged with or convicted of sex offenses. The registry would be very similar to criminal sex offender registries in that those listed would be subject to the same types of restrictions—community notification requirements, restrictions on where he or she can live—as convicted sex offenders. The law allows a victim to petition the courts to add the alleged perpetrator’s name, photograph, and address, where it would remain for six years, whereupon the alleged perpetrator could petition to have his or her name removed if no other accusations have been made and the judge believes that he or she is not likely to abuse anyone.

Victims of sexual abuse by priests in Ohio had wanted the government to lift the statute of limitations for one year so that they could sue their abusers, but instead the Catholic church apparently endorsed this alternative solution.

This is a terrible idea. One would hope that a judge would not add a person to the registry unless compelling evidence existed to substantiate the claims of abuse. How many accusations would be sufficient to add someone to the registry? One? Another problem is that a tremendous potential exists for the misuse of this law. Who is to say that someone with a grudge could not convince (or pay) a judge to add a name to the registry?

The fact is that those added to the registry will have been merely accused of a crime, not convicted in a court of law. The stigma that goes along with being a sex offender is bad enough for those who actually have committed the crime. Imagine being wrongly accused and having to live under that oppression. Ohio’s supreme court needs to put a stop to this law before it causes irreparable harm—and before other states decide to adopt the law as a model.

Re-Running 9-11

Beginning this weekend, nearly all the media outlets will be broadcasting special programming concerning the attacks on September 11, 2001. Many news stations will be replaying the original live footage from that day.

Do we really need this? What is it supposed to accomplish? Cynical me thinks it's all a ploy to make the republicans look better just before the election. "See, don't forget, this is why we're fighting wars in Iraq and Afganistan. Never mind the countless contradictions and the ever-shifting explanations for why we are in Iraq. Just watch this re-run and let your thinking mind go numb and give in to a spirit of fear."

I sure hope there's an Andy Griffith marathon on at the same time.

Dinner and Supper

I mentioned the other day that I have a very rambunctious group of freshmen that meet on Thursday afternoons. I guess that late in the day they have gotten their second wind--either that or they're so tired that they're just crazy. They really keep me on my toes, but they are a good bunch.

Yesterday in class we were discussing grammar, and the discussion morphed into a conversation about differences in the way people from different regions pronounce the same word. One of my students, a young man from Chicago said, "Last week you said the word supper. That was the first time I had ever heard that word, and I had to go ask somebody what it meant." Everyone else in class gasped (except for the girl from Northern Virginia--I think she was familiar with the word but could understand why he didn't know it) in amazement that this guy had never heard the word "supper." He explained that it was "dinner" where he comes from, so I asked him if he knew what dinner is here. He guessed that dinner was lunch, and I told him that he was partially right. I told him that if you have a sandwich at noontime, it's lunch, but if you have a hot meal at noontime, that's dinner. Everyone in class seemed to agree with this idea.

Getting to meet people from different places is one of the most fun things about being a college professor.

Eleven years ago right now. . .

I was putting on the big, white, poofy dress and getting ready to take the long walk to marital bliss. Little did I know that with a new last name, I'd also get a new title: the ol' lady.

I don't have a title for this post.

I've met all five of my classes now, and they all seem like they're going to be a pretty good bunch. By far the class with the most personality is my late class on Tues/Thurs. They were rambunctious but very good-natured. They promised to bring me food if I let them out early on Thursday for the football game that starts at 6:00 (our class normally ends at 5:45).

I am suffering from a blocked right ear. All I hear all day and night is a constant "whoosh whoosh" of the blood rushing through my head. This has been going on for over a week but has gotten worse in the past couple of days. Now my back teeth on the right side are starting to hurt. I have an appointment with an ear, nose, and throat specialist tomorrow. I sure hope this is something that he can clear up fast because it's about to drive me crazy.

I don't really have much else to talk about today--just wanted to let you know that I'm still here.

Reflections Before the Start of a New Semester

On Friday I attended my department's annual faculty meeting and was pleasantly surprised. I was not really looking forward to the meeting because it usually drags on for a couple of hours with a few people talking about issues that affect only those few people in the department. The rest of us are left to sit and sigh and wait for it all to be over. But this time, the meeting ended after a short 45 minutes with no discussion of irrelevant issues. I hope this is a sign of good things to come this semester.

As I was leaving campus, I passed by some of the residence halls. Friday was move-in day for campus residents, and they and their parents were busy carrying in all the things that college students need to survive dorm life. Boxes and boxes of different types lined the sidewalks waiting for their contents to be placed into service in their new homes. Some boxes were obviously second-hand aquirements from the grocery store, once used to carry bananas but now pressed into service to haul books, linens and towels, and stuffed animals. Other boxes were brand new, shiny, unopened packaging for inexpensive pressboard furniture waiting to be assembled. I did notice, however, one box that stood out from the rest--it showed a picture of an electric chainsaw. I certainly hope that this box was recycled. I don't know how those dorm rooms are going to contain all the stuff that was sitting on the sidewalks yesterday. I suspect that some parents had to haul some things back home Friday evening.

The first week of classes always contains some light chaos. Some students will experience some sort of scheduling problem and will react as if the world is coming to an end. Other students will find that because they paid their fees late, they were purged from all their classes. They won't appear on my class roll but will insist that they had been previously enrolled. "You may very well have been on my roll last week, but you aren't today," I'll tell them. "Therefore you are not enrolled in my class. Good luck finding another one," I'll say with encouragement, but I'll know that this semester they won't be able to take English.

During the first couple of weeks when work is still relatively light, my officemate and I will occupy the free time between classes tracking hurricanes online. We do this every year with relish, keeping each other updated on the latest developments. Last fall with Katrina and Rita, we had plenty to keep us busy. I'm not sure why we do this, but I suspect it has something to do with reminding ourselves that there's a life off of our campus and concerns wider than comma spices and sentence fragments.

We'll also catch up with our faculty friends that we didn't see over the summer. It'll be almost as if we hadn't had nearly four months off. Three and a half weeks into the semester, we'll be saying, "God I'll be glad when this semester is over!" And that'll be the truth!

It's the End of the Solar System As We Know It!

When we hear someone mention the name Pluto, we now don't have to wonder whether he or she is talking about the dog or the planet. Pluto is officially no longer a planet.

I'm going to have to adjust my entire way of thinking.

My New Freshman Writing Assignment

Over the past few years, I have noticed that freshman college students have many different reasons for attending school. Some know exactly what they want to major in, and some have no idea why they're there. Some don't want to be there at all. With this in mind, I have devised a new writing assignment for my first-semester freshman students, and I want to get your input on it. Here's part of the assignment sheet:

For some reason, you are a student at [this university]. Have you really thought about why you are here? I mean, for example, before you even applied to [this university], did you think long and hard about what you want to do for your career and how [this university] could help you to achieve that career? Or at the opposite end of the spectrum, was the decision to attend [the university] sort of like your decision to attend 12^th grade: It was just the next expected step in life, the 13^th grade.

I want you to take a long and honest look at why you are here. Some students are here because they know exactly where they want to go in their career path, and [this university] is a stepping stone on that path. [This university] may offer the perfect education for your career choice. Maybe [this university] is just the place where you plan to complete your general studies courses before moving on to your university of choice for your major courses. Some students don’t want to be attending college at all but are here because of a deal they made with their parents. Other students didn’t even get to make a deal and don’t want to attend college at all but are here because mom and dad are making them come here. Some students even come to college with the intention of failing all their classes so that their parents won’t make them come back.

Whatever category you fall into, you have a reason for being here, and you need to be honest with yourself about what that reason is. For your first writing assignment, you will explain to your readers what you hope to do as a career, how [this university] fits in with your career plan, how you came to be attending [this university], and how these three facts will shape your actions over the next few years.

There's more to the assignment, but this gives you the basic idea. My goal is that the students will honestly examine themselves and their motives and make a choice to take responsibility for their own education right now. They consider themselves adults, so I want them to start now to think like an adult.

What do you think? Do you see any drawbacks to this assignment that I should address before giving it to them? Many of you are parents of college students or children who will one day become college students, so your input is very welcome.

Suffering from Blog Withdrawal, and Wierdness

Very early on Thursday morning, I had just enough time to check my email, and then my DSL service went down. The entire neighborhood lost service for a few hours, but when it came back up, I didn't get mine back. To make a long story short, I finally got my internet service back yesterday afternoon after having to run a new wire inside from the phone box on the outside of my house.

Bellsouth DSL service sucks big time! I've had nothing but problems from the getgo, but it's my only alternative besides dialup.

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Mugsy tagged me last week, so here are five wierd things about me. Actually, since I personally don't have five wierd characteristics, I'll include my entire household.

1. Sometimes I like to eat ketchup on my macaroni and cheese.

2. For nearly any situation that arises, my husband or I can quote an appropriate scene or line from either The Andy Griffith Show or the movie Sling Blade.

3. My Jack Russell Terriers' favorite toy is a piece of corrugated drain pipe. One dog gets on one end, and the other dog gets on the other end, and they have a good time tugging on it. They've gone through several pipes over the years.

4. My husband likes make up words to familiar tunes and sing to the dogs.

5. I love my husband a lot when he sings his little songs.

All right, Tony and Jetty Betty, you're it. Consider yourselves tagged.

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Edit: OK, I'm an English teacher and I don't know how to spell the word weird. So sue me.

Freedom is About to End

It's almost that time again. This summer flew by just like last summer did. In another week and a half, I'll be back staring at the walls of the old, cold dungeon known as my office, that basement room where I have to run a heater even on the hottest days of summer. Thankfully, I do have a window with a street-level view of the parking lot. But for all I complain about that space, when I really think about it, I'm still amazed that I have a place that I can call "my office." Not many people in the world have their own office (actually I share with a cool friend with whom I attended graduate school, so it isn't exclusively "mine"), and even fewer can say that they work--and teach--at a university. Once, a neighbor asked me what I do, and I said that I teach English at the university, to which she replied with awe in her voice, "You're a professor?" It was then that I realized that . . . well, I'm still not sure exactly what I realized except that people view what I do as something very out of the ordinary. The fact that I teach 18-year-olds at a university sets me quite apart, apparently, from those who teach 18-year-olds in high school.

(Technically, I'm really not a professor. There's no official title for those of us in my position at my particular university. We're designated as Full Time Temporary--no noun after Temporary. The most accurate noun would probably be Instructor, but no one has ever gotten around to actually naming us, so everyone just calls us Professor for the sake of ease. Most of the time when people I meet ask me what I do, I just say that I'm an English teacher, but if I'm meeting people who I can tell are sort of hoity toity, or if they're yankees, I'll say that I'm a professor.)

So anyway, yesterday I spent a lot of time working on my class website. Since I've learned how to do things like make my own buttons for links, I'm spending too much time making my site look cool and not enough time revising my handouts. I'll be working on that today and the next several days. I probably shouldn't have put it off this long, but summer break is called summer break for a reason.

It's close enough for school to start that I've begun having those dreams at night where I'm either taking or teaching classes, and I forget to go to one all semester. After school starts and the essays start coming in, I'll dream about grading papers, and it'll be one of those restless kind of dreams where I wake up as exhausted as was when I went to sleep. Thankfully, that particular one happens only once or twice a semester. (My husband still dreams about being in school, and he absolutely hates hearing the back to school commercials on TV, he disliked school that much!)

In a way, I'm sort of looking forward to going back to school, but most of me wishes I could just skip it. However, I didn't win the lottery this summer, so unless I win in the next few days, I'll be looking forward to making the aquaintance of another hundred eager (and not so eager) young adults in a couple of weeks. Actually, I really do like my job, for all the complaining I do. I get to work with some good people, and I really like my students, even though they can drive me near crazy sometimes. Once I get back to it, I'll enjoy it and anticipate going to class. Right now, though, going back to school just means the end of another summer of carefree living.

Yes, I Really Want to Exit Without Leaving a Comment

Could someone please advise me on how to stop the annoying little box that pops up on the comment page asking if I really want to navigate away without making any changes? I can't find an option for it in the browser preferences. I've been living with this forever, and it's finally about to drive me crazy.

Don't Buy Your Toiletries Until You Get to Where You're Going

So because of this foiled terror plot, people can't carry any liquids onto planes. I was just watching the news, and they were showing all sorts of things that are being confiscated from people boarding planes: eye drops, deodorant, chapstick, toothpaste, hairspray. This is getting ridiculous.

The Walgreens stores near the airports will be happy about it.

To My Silent Readers

I know you're out there. You stop by every couple of days for a minute or two to see if there's anything new. You stay long enough to read the comments, and then you leave again. You leave no traces that you were here, yet you return again and again. I hope you are returning because you enjoy the conversation that takes place here. I have come to think of the people who comment regularly here as my friends--good friends that I could count on in a crisis--even though we've never met in person. Perhaps that's why you keep coming back, because you see people who really seem to like each other, and it's refreshing to hear (read) a conversation where people can agree and they can disagree and still like each other.

I'd like to invite you to become a part of our conversations here. This circle of friends has room to grow larger, and I'd love to hear what you have to say. I know that you are reading from various parts of the country, and since I've never been out of the South, I would really welcome getting to know you.

I know you're out there, Providence, Rhode Island. San Jose, California, I see that you've been here. And all you Texas people, hey, Texas is already being represented here, but you're welcome to join in too! (Texans must really like blogging. Or is it just that there are a lot of Texans?)

But even if you decide not to comment, know that I'm glad you're here.

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I just thought of something. Maybe you keep coming back just to see what sort of drivel I'm going to come up with next. That's all right too!

Hope to hear from you!

It's Good to be a Heathen

I really like not being a regular church-goer. If the opportunity of a fun outing offers itself on a Sunday morning, I don't have to pass it up, and I don't have to justify to all my church friends why I missed church last week. It's also good to have friends and family who either aren't church-goers or who don't mind at all missing church in order to have fun with friends and family.

This Sunday afforded us the opportunity to take a canoe trip down the Caney Fork River with family and friends. (The friends are church-goers, but apparently they felt compelled to miss without guilt this day.) We put our canoes in at the Center Hill Dam and floated nine miles downstream to Betty's Island, stopping for lunch at Happy Hollow. We had our coolers strapped to a float that we pulled behind one of the canoes, so we were able to carry more than just a sandwich and bottle of water apiece. People who see us always comment on what a great idea it is, as if they couldn't have thought of it themselves.

Everyone we met out on the river was friendly and considerate. You know that commercial with the boaters waving to each other? Canoers and people fishing do the same thing, but we can chat because we don't have loud motors going. Actually we did see a couple of canoes with motors, but they weren't loud enough to keep us from exchanging pleasantries. And we saw some interesting things too. Before we saw the guy, we smelled his weed. He was sitting in a fishing boat not fishing--he said he'd already caught his limit. I guess he just hadn't smoked his limit yet.

Out in the river, away from the distractions of daily life, everyone is pretty much in the same boat, pun intended. Everyone speaks to each other as equals; no one is better than anyone else. You can be friendly with the guy who's getting high just as easily as you can with the game warden. The journey along the river and all that the journey brings is more important than reaching the getting out place.

We had a good time just floating along, laughing and talking, seeing wildflowers and cows, and stopping every now and then to put our feet in the cold water. If you think you'd have a good time enjoying God's outdoor church some Sunday morning, you can go with us next time.