Ya Ha Deedle Deedle Bubba Bubba Deedle Deedle Dum

Some days you work on projects and have everything you need for them all laid out, and everything goes to plan. These are sometimes known as success stories, but more often as miracles and flukes.

Then you have projects where you realize halfway through that you're drippping with sweat, taking half an hour to do something by hand that could be done in a few seconds with the right equipment, and you find yourself singing parodies of If I Were A Rich Man that have lines like, "if I had a chop saw..."

I'd have all the shop tools in the world, if I were a wealthy man.

Clang

I learned the other day that two propane cans knocking against each other sound a lot like a buoy bell. I then had to remind myself that I was, in fact, carrying two cans of propane in my Jeep, and that said Jeep was not an aquatic vehicle. For a moment, though, I could almost smell saltwater.

And I Quote

"Stop teaching hate," says he.

Lead by example, says I.

Employee Benefits

My job may not offer healthcare or retirement savings, but yesterday the Boss Lady hired in a massage therapist who gave each of us a half-hour-long chair massage. She clearly knows how to keep employees happy.

The therapist, a vibrant and enthusiastic woman named Snow (yes, really) took to me instantly. It might've been because I'd had bodywork before and wasn't afraid of taking off my shirt and letting her poke her elbow under my scapula (gods, that felt good). It might've been because when she asked me to describe my job I did so in terms of body mechanics and ergonomics. It might've been because I could speak the language of self-awareness and new-age mindfulness as well as she could. Regardless, half an hour after meeting me, she was bubbling over with excitement at having met me. It's nice to have that sort of effect on somebody.

Jamboree

You know you're in the town that time forgot when you see signs for an upcoming Jamboree at the Moose lodge. You know it's Bellows Falls when there's a teenager walking past that sign, baby bump showing, toddler in tow, cigarette in hand.

Spot

8am: I arrive at work and notice a spider on the threshold between the shipping room and the stock room.

9am: I have named the spider Spot. Spot is about an inch long, with distinctive stripes (probably a grass spider).

11am: I decide that Spot is my new assistant, and begin quietly narrating everything I do so she can learn.

1pm: I give Spot a pen so she can take notes on shipping procedures.

2pm: I attempt to give Spot a clipboard, ostensibly to help with note-taking, but more so I can relocate her to a place where she won't be as likely to be stepped on. Spot attacks the clipboard, pouncing on and biting it.

3pm: In light of this startling workplace violence, I fire Spot, and recommend that she attend anger management classes.

4:30pm: I leave work, and see Spot still hanging around the stock room. She's going to be one of those former employees.

Evangelists

I was visited this morning by a polite, grey-haired gentleman intent on spreading the Word and attracting new parishioners. Unlike the last Jehova's Witness who visited me, who couldn't do anything but quote the pamphlet she wanted to hand me, this fellow was able to have a conversation about the Bible as a literary/historic work, and attempt to defend the book he held in his hand as the true word of God. He realized fairly quickly that he wasn't going to be able to welcome me into the congregation, but we spent a pleasant twenty minutes discussing words vs. concepts, the linguistic and social contexts of the scriptures, and where society is headed.

On one hand, I sort of feel sorry for people who devote their free time to proselytizing. This guy has been cussed at, screamed at, and threatened with bodily harm at gunpoint at various points in his travels because he wanted to have a conversation about faith. He wasn't pushy, he gave me multiple opportunities to kick him off my porch, and while he did his best to nudge me in the direction of the Bible, he did it respectfully. He didn't deserve to be threatened or yelled at, but he acted as though he expected me to treat him that way.

On the other hand, evangelists choose their paths, just like the rest of us. They make the choice to serve their God in this way, and suffer the slings and arrows, as it were, of that task. They knock on doors in the hope that they can bring the faith that gives them such comfort into the lives of others, knowing that those others may be secure in other faiths, or have no faith at all, or not be open to the idea of having a stranger with a book try to mess with their souls. They know what the possibilities are when they knock on each door, and they knock anyway.

I rather like talking with people about faith, and I wish I'd had more time to ask this man about his, because I think it would have been interesting, but I had plans with my sister (who arrived just as the man started talking with me), and had to keep it short. I'm always curious to hear other people's approaches to faith and scriptures and historical context, as well as their reasons why, of all the world's religions, they chose whichever one they did. I think it helps me understand humanity a little better -- something that's part of my own spiritual path.

I'm almost looking forward to the next random knock on my door. Just so long as it doesn't come in the middle of a row of complicated knitting.