Anyway, so at least once while I am home, I am “prompted” by my mother enough times that I go to church. I found the sermon dull and repetitive- but overall, it was good. Weird, I know. Today’s topic was balance. I thought, “Oh great, they are going to talk about how much we should pray and worship and commune with other Christians, etc..” But no- it was a real-life lesson about balancing work, rest and recreation. Now I’m listening. This could be useful. After stating the topic, the paster continued the sermon by re-forming the initial statement into questions, “How much should we work?” (pause) “How much should we rest?” (pause) “And how much should we play?” … and so on. I was hoping for some facts such as “The reason we need sufficient sleep is…” or “The reason our species needs to take time for fun and enjoyment away form work is…” “As Christians we need to be functioning and aware members of society, so it is imperative that we live balanced lives…” But this did not happen. I suppose if the congregation really wanted to know, we could all google after Sunday lunches. Despite the lack of any new information, I was proud that today’s sermon- and the three to follow- were going to really be about how to function in society (each one would focus on either work, rest or recreation and will be lead by the head paster and not the associate). You go, Chapelwood.

Anyway, there was one instance that bothered me. The praise band (yes, there is a youth-lead praise band, but they are all decent musicians which makes it bearable) presented an echo-type song. Males were to sing first and females were to sing the echo. This would make sense if the echo was significantly higher than the original line. Not the case. The lines were exactly the same… and with each one I felt more an more uncomfortable that I was in the group ordered to follow the male group. There are two sides to the church- why didn’t they divide it up into the two groups separated by location and not gender? It’s over. Done. But it did irk me at the time.

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On a completely unrelated note- My Godfather and his wife took my family out to lunch @ Johnny Carino’s. Don’t think I’ve been to one of those in years. this is not a bad thing. The only vegetarian salad available was a wedge salad. Yeah, a bug nasty chunk of iceberg lettuce. One of these meat-infested salads was tenderly topped with… wait for it… wait for it… BACON VINAIGRETTE. I can’t deny it. It was there. This is the scenario (that I just made up) in which such a travesty was devised:

CUSTOMER: Excuse me, waiter? Waiter!

WAITER: Yes, sir?

CUSTOMER: Yes, I would like a salad after all. Do you have any vinaigrette dressings?

W: Why yes. We have raspberry, balsamic, Italian…

C: No, no, no, no. Here is what I need. Take one of your most bland vinaigrettes and then place very small bits of slaty, cured pig’s ass and let them float around for a while. Then pour it ALL over my salad. Can you do that?

W: Um… sure. Yes, sir. I will be back with your salad shortly.

The waiter ran off, never to return. What happened to this poor soul? Was he so disgusted that he quit the food industry all together? No. He heard it. He heard the the hearts beat faster and the mouths begin to water of every meat-hungry, red-blooded Texan… at the exact same time. This young waiter knew that he must create and market the bacon-infused vinaigrette. The fad soon spun out of control… bacon ice cream, bacon chocolate, bacon cupcakes, bacon-flavored floss, bacon sex lube… The waiter-turned-multi-millionaire took of sip of his Bacon Coke, looked at the bacon bandage on his poker-of-a-son’s arm and wept.