Sunday was quieter as I tried to get beyond the plane or travel-induced cough. I woke early and had some trouble getting back to sleep, but I got more sleep than I had for days. I felt better.
I then went to write the blog using Grammarly and WordPress and fought more with Grammarly as the AI (Artifical Intelligence, as they call it) wanted me to write more simply and with certain sequencing of sentences and words that I don’t always use. The product repeatedly insisted that this needed to be revised, and I received no happy messages, so I left my writing as I liked it. My editing of my long, 11,000+ word story later in the day for my hero Howard was also a fight with the tool. Sometimes, the software suggested non-sensible changes as it misunderstood my usage of some words and concepts.
In a later published Screwtape letter (“Screwtape Proposes A Toast,” 1959), C.S. Lewis wrote that the devil was trying to make everything boring and average. If everything was kept bland and uninteresting, there would no longer be a great evil, but there would also be no great good. Thus, all the host of hell needed to do was slightly push folks to not do good and collect their tasteless but bountiful harvest. Hell had gone industrial! I thought about that as my words and efforts faced the pruning of Grammarly’s newest algorithm (you can call it AI if you like). Not that I am claiming some demonic force has taken over my writing tools, but I need to strive to not be a simplified writing standard (maybe worse than demonic, corporate).
After my quixotic writing adventure and publishing the blog on FaceBook and by email (I am resisting putting it on LinkedIn), I cleaned up and dressed for church. While my weight refuses to move more than a few pounds, my inches continue to shrink. Folks have told me that muscle weighs more than fat and that I am actually recovering from cancer, pandemic isolation, grief, and stress and putting on muscles (F**k you, Screwtape!). I was still hoping to see the scale hit 240 pounds someday, sigh–250 today. My pants are falling off again. My shirts are starting to be large for me. I can hide these sins of fashion under vests, especially a navy blue sweater vest. I have drilled a hole in my new belt, which is no longer enough–I can walk four steps and share what underwear I selected today. I am using my old belt, which is also in the last hole. I must keep pulling my pants, but the old belt works to prevent unplanned exposures. For my suits, I use suspenders, and I am tempted to invest in more suspenders in the future. But then I would be looking like grandpa, and that is not the look I am ready for yet. Also, I am ruining the family tradition of playing Santa Claus. Yes, I was thinking of letting the whiskers grow out and ringing the bell in a red suit, but now I am lucky if I will be allowed to be an elf! I plan to take my new pants (one size smaller) and have them shortened after my surgery. The trauma of another surgery will likely cause more weight loss (cancer and brain surgery are not recommended weight loss processes!). I also looked into a swim club membership after June. They will send me a complementary pass in July.
Returning, somehow, to the narrative. I dressed in a French Blue button-down dress shirt, pride tie, my usual pants with belt, vest, and black dress shoes. I wore my black Humburg hat, which always gets a comment. I got to church early and had a surprising conversation that coffee was delayed as the homeless kept drinking it, so they put it out later. This greatly upset me as a strange solution to the problem for a church! But, the homeless won, as they just waited and then got coffee. One gal decided to rest during the service in a pew with my permission.
Dondrea was running the show and preaching. There were some surprises that she handled with her usual professionalism. She is the communication director for a major insurance company and handles microphones and public speaking with an ease that you must admire. I stayed out of the way and sat in a pew, drinking the precious coffee.
The hymns and the music were easy to sing, and the choir, missing half its members, sang with the congregation a familiar (and soon forgotten by me) hymn. Dondrea, warning me earlier that I should bring tomatos to throw at her, gave a sermon called “Duty Calls.” Pastor Ken and Dondrea both follow consciously or unconsciously the Methodist strong belief in experience and the Holy Spirit in religious practices. Your experiences in your life manifest the Holy Spirit, and so they include their discoveries in their lives.
In her sermon, Dondrea recounted her unhappiness at being called to jury duty for the first time in her life this week. She recognizes now that a jury is the base for the protection of our rights and the only safe means to execute justice. You must serve, and service is demanded of Christians in 1 Peter: “Honour everyone. Love the family of believers. Fear God. Honour the emperor.” Yes, it says that (I check it in Greek). Dondrea made a call to action (usually Methodist Sermons are light on calls) for everyone, as good Christians and citizens, to do their duty, serve, and help the cause of justice (I resisted calling out, “It’s a cookbook!” But instead called out “no tomatoes” which got a few laughs).
After church, there were dangerously good baked goods and precious coffee. I headed out and called Evan. Air Volvo took me to the Volvo Cave, where I planned dinner (steaks) with Corwin. Next, it was The 649. I was not traveling far today.
Natalia was bartending and was later joined by Avery. Evan showed up after 1, and soon, we were in a deep Wyrmspan board game. This is a new and excellent game showing all the improvements and design decisions of the current crop of games. The game flow is clear and well-controlled, and there are few exceptions, usually as an interaction, not as a rule. I have seen folks familiar with Wingspan and other new games pick this game up in just a few turns.
I stalled and misplayed a few times. Evan managed to get high-point dragons, while mine were low-point. While I could blame the randomness of the game, which was more pronounced in Windspan, I think I misplayed. Evan won by more than ten points, with 47 points in dragon cards being decisive.
I ordered only dips, munchies, and two beers, one refreshing American Lager and a smaller (thanks, Natalia, for pouring a smaller one) red ale, Diablo Rojo while playing. Breakfast was a poppy muffin (purchased) and a banana with Columbia coffee (thanks, Kramers). Dinner was planned as a huge steak, so I tried not to overeat!
We played the board game (not the food) Stroganov next. I wanted to remember how to play this excellent game. Evan and I did have a few rules checks and minor disputes as Evan feels that the game turn allows too many options. I think that is the charm of the game. As I remembered it better, I scored a win by more than five points. Had Z been there, I am sure Z would have crushed us. We did not play that efficiently.
Avery and Natalia commented on my church outfit; they liked the look and the tie. They were dressed for summer bartending, and we were a strange contrast. I told them about the upcoming surgery and promised to stop by on Monday with instructions on checking my status (Charlotte at church wants the same instructions) and contact information. It makes me think of The Other Side in The Greatest Showman: Here is a version. I could not find an official clip.
I paid the bill, said goodbye to Evan, and headed out. I soon arrived at the Volvo Cave (forgetting that 209th is closed on this side) by an indirect route. I made wilted green beans with garlic and sliced almonds, couscous with a hint of India, and salted huge ribeye steaks on the grill (more of a fire fighting than grill process). I took mine outside and sat in the backyard and enjoyed my repass. The steak was salty and juicy and terrible for you, or, in other words, perfect. The slightly burned beans and couscous flavors matched the steak.
I was stuffed, so I did not finish my steak. Corwin was also defeated and had to put the steak off for a few hours. I putted around the house, and somehow, the clock spun to 10. I showered and fell asleep early, not coughing anymore.
Thanks for reading.
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