Sunday began with me rising early. I had gone to bed late, and the early morning was not welcome. I woke at sunrise, rolled over, and started my Sunday just after 7. I grabbed my slippers and then padded to the kitchen. It was a gray morning with thunder rumbling from the south. There was no smoke, and the air smelled of ozone and storms.
I finished the excellent peaches from a jar that I purchased from a local farm when Linda and I stopped by the farm for a break on our way to the coast. I broke open the jar last week; I had to poke holes in the top as it was so tightly sealed–impressive. The peaches were fresh-tasting and firm.
I enjoyed the peaches with locally roasted and ground coffee from Kenya made in my French Press. I wrote while consuming this small feast. I was time-boxed, I ignored distractions, and I remained focused. I was finished just after 9.
My weight has lowered to 235, which was a surprise. I thought I was looking thinner, and my pants were barely holding on with new holes drilled in my belt. As Dondrea has warned me, the pounds do not come off with beer and drinks. I have started using Big River Coffee instead of the tap houses for writing. Sunday was busy, and I could not fit in a walk, but I managed over 2,000 steps.
I cleaned up and dressed for church in black dress shoes, my nearly not-fitting LL Bean usual pants, grey-blue dress shirt, pride tie, and a blue sweater vest. This was literally topped off with my summer hat. I remembered the large envelope with the letters and checks for over $40K in giving, remembering Dan McLean and Susie. I boarded Air Volvo, which was still dry as the storms somehow missed the house. Beaverton was damp, and lightning was flashing in the sky. I arrived early.
I found myself welcoming various visitors as I stood at the entrance of the sanctuary. We had at least two couples and a few people I did not know. I handed them bulletins, welcomed them, and pointed them to the pews (I would seat them if the service was ongoing), and I saw Dondrea spot them and talk to them, too. Excellent. Since the pandemic, First United Methodist of Beaverton seldom has greeters. I have also noted that most older members come late or at the last minute. We are not an early church!
The pastor, Ken, was begging for some coffee, which finally arrived just before the service began. The previous Sunday’s crisis of having no filters continued into this Sunday. The missing critical item was apparently acquired, but this delayed the production of “Methodist Mud.” Later, I saw that the current pulpit had no secret shelf for water (or coffee), and Ken had to set the coffee on the angled surface. There were no mishaps. We will have to put a cup holder in the pulpit!
With the countdown for Internet access, the service started with Crystal playing on the organ. The songs we sang were familiar, and the Praise Band (there is no choir in the summer) played familiar songs and had us clapping with the music. Later, the folks strongly sang, “It’s Me, It’s Me, O Lord.”
Now, with coffee, Pastor Ken discussed some events at the church, including another church family and denomination moving in with us (our service will be at 11 to accommodate the other church). He then moved to his sermon, still exploring the book of James with us, reaching the later part of the fourth chapter. This one says it is a sin to say I will do such and such to be successful, but instead, try to find what the Lord wants you to do and then do that. Ken had the congregation say out loud that we arrange our lives to serve God (my words). Ken also points out that James demands that we remember the poor in all things we do.
Aside: I checked the Greek and thought James 4:13 was translated too plainly. I would have gone with something like this (Dondrea suggested the snake oil salesman): “You plan a year to head to various cities to win renown as a snake oil salesman.” James yells a bit louder than our polite words in our translations.
I took Air Volvo home after church, wondering what President Biden’s decision to leave the race and support his vice president for the race would mean. For me, I plan to make lots of chicken. But first, I saw the 185th Market and stopped. When I remember, I buy my fruit and veggies from these folks. I get some excellent Wala Wala onions (meaning I might have to get some onion rings at Burgerville soon), veggies, and fruit. I saw radishes, bought some, and later carved little faces in them (the red skin and white flesh make the eyes and mouths stand out without effort) and took them to Dungeons and Dragons that night. In one game years ago, I carved screaming damned souls’ faces in the radishes for the salad to eat while in an adventure in a version of Hell. Scott requested tomatoes and other veggies in a more interesting salad–I made it Hellish.
I changed from my church clothing and dressed in comfortable clothing; the storms were over, and now it was humid and hot. I split two pounds of chicken breasts without failure or bleeding (sharpening the knives a week ago has brought many benefits) and soaked them in teriyaki sauce and white wine. I light the grill later. At about 2ish, I cook them on the hot grill. There is just a little sticking that goes away as the heat works to char the connections to the grill. I have a temperature probe and check and ensure everything is done. I also cook too much rice and nearly ruin it with too little water. Somehow I reversed the one cup of rice to two cup of water–I blame the heat. I was able to salvage the rice, and while more than I would want (rice is not good for diabetics), it was good.
I put some more teriyaki sauce and white wine in a non-stick pan, sliced hot chicken, and stir-fried it with the sauce. That was served over rice and was an excellent lunch. I packed the rest of the chicken and most of the rice in glass containers (thanks, Glenda and Gene) and put them in the frig for later meals.
My back was complaining, and my cell was not in my pocket, so all the cooking steps were not counted, but I suspect I did another 1,000 steps of cooking, slicing, and packing. I rested to get my back happy and read. I nodded off, rose, and made a cup of tea to wake up. I boarded Air Volvo with my happy radishes and a late birthday gift for Matt V.
Matt V makes burgers for dinner while we play Dungeons and Dragons 5.0E. I found a small paper identification wheel for Egypt’s ancient Gods and Goddesses at the Portland Art Museum, which was made in Egypt but in English. I wrapped it and gave it as a late birthday gift. Matt V liked it. I try to find unique and usual gaming items for Matt.
The game has us returning to space jamming Dungeons and Dragons, and crossing various universes. Details cannot be covered, but I did use up most of my spell slots and stayed more in the background, blasting from a distance and letting the combat characters deliver much of the punch this time. As a good cleric of light, I can cast the famous D&D fireball spell. We were tossing lots of them.
Being paranoid, we planned our final battle with care and managed to finish it without losing anyone. It was an interesting set of encounters with all of Matt’s props and figures; thanks, Matt.
After that, we finished the adventure, and I headed home. Corwin had a package and found some of the chicken at the house, where he made a few sandwiches. I brought him more chicken and his master key for his truck, which was still at the house. We chatted for a bit, and after 11, I headed home and soon was asleep.
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