Talk about incommunicado, huh? I went out of town, got sick, or just didn't have much to write about. Until now.
My friends, I am more stressed out than I've ever been in my life. Some of you know how big this is, because I'm not a guy who gets stressed easily. But, here's what's going on.
I have no idea where I'll be working and/or living as of January 1st. The bishop wanted to wait until Cabinet meeting (when all the DS's got together) to decide anything about my fate. This is good and bad. Bad-I won't know until sometime next week if I have to move sometime next month. Good-The bishop, the Schnase himself, wants to be a part of the conversation. I have daydreams about them creating a position for me on the District or Conference. I could be Director of Keeping Old White Preachers As Hip As They Can Be Or At Least Informed. Or something.
Here's the other thing. My sister's having a freakin' baby. Mom, in her wisdom, said women have babies all the time. Yes, but not my sister and not with ME IN THE WOMB...er...ROOM! I'm excited but terrified. I just know she'll go into labor on Christmas Eve, or New Years Eve when I'm preaching, or on moving day. And, this would be about half as frustrating if we didn't have to deal with, oh I'll call him, "The SOB", in the WEEKS...yes, weeks...after the birth of my new nephew.
So, yeah, I'm freaking out a bit. I can't sleep, not that that's different from usual. I've been working out again to try and help with the nerves. But, I'm pretty much wound tight 100% of the time. Put a lump of coal [in my hand], in two weeks you'll have a diamond.-Ferris Bueller, edited edition.
Oh yeah, AND, Mustoe-Harley's getting ready to get a new girlfriend and have little angel puppies. Shaq, our yellow lab of 13 years has a tumor on her liver and has stopped eating. The chart at the vet that measures dog years by weight and other things says she's over 110 years old. The chart stops at 11 with dogs over 55 pounds. Shaq weighs 65 pounds and is 13 and a half. She's a wonderful, quiet, loving, loyal dog and we'll miss her. And she's a looker Harl. Watch yourself.
Peace everybody. Peace of mind and Peace on earth.
Gobble, Gobble. B
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
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4 comments:
Take a deep breath! Count your blessings. Things work out. Trust in God and in the people around you. When the baby comes, it comes. We do what we have to. I know you'll be just fine. I can't think of any more cliches but just chill, man. You're blessed!! JB
Actually, "just chill" is also a cliche, so you managed to think of another one, JB.
And in your new position of Director of Keeping Old Guys Hip, Brad, I'd like to know what your first official act will be. This position has a lot of potential!
I hate to burst your bubble, but one of these days you, too, will be an old white male and someone will be wanting to make you hip. What goes around comes around! You are wonderful, chilling or wound tight. cb
It was so great to see you again! Have a great week. I'm praying for you and stress.
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