We’re overdue for an update, I suppose.

Last week was terribly busy at work. Not bad, really, just fairly frenetic. I desperately needed Thanksgiving Break and Stacey needed it even more, really.

Our Thanksgiving dinner took place in late afternoon, nearly evening, with Ryan and Jenni at their place. Other than the fake turkey roast S. & I bought because Tofurkeys were sold out, everything was vegan. R & J, who are vegan, always cook so well, as does Stacey…so we feasted. In fact, we all probably made enough for a couple full families. Leftovers are terrific, of course, so no one complained. S. made an incredible mashed potatoes…it was mashed potatoes with spices and then baked. Also...sweet potatoes and yams are NOT the same thing. I wasn’t aware of that but the grocer guy at Wild Oats set me straight. We opted for the sweet potatoes (fresh, not in a can!), which S. baked with a nice sauce and some raisins.

I’d been looking forward to the extended holiday weekend not only as a relaxing period to spend time with Stacey and relax but also as a couple days where I could get quite a bit of writing type work in. Unfortunately that didn’t exactly happen. Between events I’ll delve into momentarily and a general tired, burnt-out feeling, I got very little measurable work accomplished. I have a feeling that had much more gotten onto paper it would have been terrible, anyway. I did listen to quite a bit of material by someone whose CD I’m co-reviewing and started getting thoughts on that, anyway…and started on a new article as well. I’m fairly disappointed with my output but, as Stacey said, I’ve been working hard the past few weekends and shouldn’t feel badly about it.

Friday we marked as a big housecleaning and Joel work day. Stacey had told two different people that no way was she going out that day – not even if she had to go to the E.R. In the late morning or early afternoon, I gashed my right index finger when a glass broke while I washed it. We just bandaged it and hoped it would be fine but when we went to change it later we realized the cut was too deep. We managed to go to an “urgent care center” rather than an E.R. but I still had to laugh at Stacey for bringing that on us. Luckily she was able to go buy some groceries while I was at the center. I didn’t have a terrible time, what with Brothers Karamazov to keep me company. The doctor teased me about how I always had my nose in the book. Anyway, I couldn’t remember the last time I received a tetanus shot so they gave me one of those. The doctor then gave me a shot straight into the finger so I wouldn’t feel her putting in the stitches. Nose still in book I found it difficult to not laugh. For some reason I found it absolutely hilarious that here was someone sewing up my finger and I couldn’t feel it a bit. The nurse came in and put on ointment and bandaged up the wound. Then the doctor came back. She asked me how was the dressing. I replied that it was good but not quite as good as the dressing I’d had the day before (Thanksgiving). Again, I found myself absolutely hilarious (in stitches, possibly). Though she was laughing I apologized to her and blamed it on being drugged up. She told me that no, I wasn’t drugged up at all. S. and I then proceeded to Walgreens to buy some sort of antibiotic. The rest of Friday I did a bit more housework but was pretty much all tuckered out. Minor injuries wear me down, I suppose.

Saturday we did more housework, I tried to write with very little success and we also went out for pretty much the whole afternoon and then some…we had various errands to run and had a good time just hanging out together. We ended up spending a long time in Big Lots. I bought little Secret Santa gifts for what we’re doing at the office. We found some great stuff for kids we’re buying gifts. I’m not afraid to admit that I love Big Lots despite their horrible electronics and furniture. At home we watched “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” while I whined about arm soreness. The tetanus shot left my arm aching Saturday and Sunday. On Saturday and Sunday I also was fairly feverish in the afternoon and evening (but not too bad in the morning, oddly enough). We also picked up a little fake Christmas tree. We put it up and it suits us just fine. The cat hasn’t been too aggressive toward it yet but today’s also the first day we’ll have been away for more than a few hours, too, so we’ll see how things go. We also put out a bowl of assorted nuts on the living room table. She enjoys picking those up and batting them around. Sometimes late at night I lie in bed and can hear her playing with those or some other battable object, slamming into walls, tearing through the carpet and so on. At least she doesn’t wear a bell anymore. That was a ruckus.


Other big news from this past week: Someone hacked onto our server and frolicked maliciously. Carter worked tirelessly to restore everything once the data center took the server down. I need to start a “Buy Carter a Beer” fund on the Vagrant Café. Of course, I have to figure out how. Why did someone do this to us? I’ve been wondering why this all happened. Maybe we just pissed someone off. It happens more often than most people would think. Then again, maybe someone was just bored and we happened to be the server he/she it. Who knows.

My head is actually full of other things to write and post but they’ll have to wait. This has already taken me all day, phrases and sentences squeezed in throughout my workday.

I’ve written this while listening to The Byrds (Easy Rider Soundtrack), The Joggers, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Jefferson Airplane, The Tea Company and I forget who else.

Right now Carter and I are in a state of shock, wondering what's going to happen with the site. Apparently something called "rootkit" attacked the server. The server is taking everything offline and no one really knows what's going to happen from here. While the Vagrant Cafe as zine and forums are backed up (we think) and any rebuilding that needs done will be fine, part of all this is the Vagrant Hosting end of things. This isn't just a side hobby for a little cash, this is Carter's livelyhood. If anyone out there thinks to pray anytime soon, send one up for us.
I've set up a (hopefully VERY) temporary forum for us to use. It's not been worked on at all yet but here you go...
http://pub33.bravenet.com/forum/2774939472

Please pass this along to any other vagrants who may need to know this.

I took my lunch hour too early today. Others' schedules left me with no choice but to make myself eat something between 10:45 and 11:45am. I deliberated over microwaving my can of minestrone, bought some taco-spiced tater tots and grabbed two handfuls of free cracker packets before finally trying to find a place to sit down. I rarely -- well, really never until today, so only now can I can I say "rarely" -- sit in the school food court area. I deal with people all day and sanity demands I find a place to eat my lunch in beautiful silence, reading literature or magazines to keep my mind busy so I won't fall asleep (which I sometimes do anyway). I hide in a small chapel only a handful of people on campus probably know about or a 3rd floor cubbyhole and when that's occupied, sometimes a 3rd floor stall. Today, though, didn't feel like carrying my food and other items all over the building. Our food court is on the second floor but someone thoughtfully installed a closed-off balcony, assumedly for smokers. No one was out there when I went to sit down so my place was determined. Sure, the temperatures were only in the low 50s but for me that's perfect when I'm wearing a sweater.
I sat out there slurping hot soup and reading The Brothers Karamazov but couldn't help hearing a loud voice. Is that guy preaching?, I wondered. I stood up and looked around. Sure enough, out on the plaza just to the west stood a man wearing a yellow slicker in the gray drizzle. His words shot through the air clearly. He was preaching, all right. What he was saying I easily recognized as almost identical to the set of cliches, context-pared Bible verses and key phrases prevalent in the fundamentalist circles within which I spent my first twenty years.
This rhetoric, this vitriol, this near-cult mentality brings about flashbacks that consist of a strange mix of awkwardness, discomfort, a creepy pain-loving hedonism akin to Nine Inch Nails songs, childhood nostalgia, searing memories and a set of instilled reflexes branded onto me so well they're still closer to instinct than learned behavior. Maybe like Johnny Cash singing "Hurt" or Gram Parsons singing about "The Christian Life," so many things stirred together.
A couple guys sat down at another balcony table. I heard them and others walking by below making fun and laughing at the preacher, the man who shouted with little response, hardly any positive response. I saw one young man walk to him, hug him, talk for a moment, then walk away. No one else really approached him. His rhythm familiar, I could still feel what paths he would take in his speech, where he would drive next. People were outright poking fun. Not to his face, but almost.
What they don't know, what they could never understand, is that this fuels the fire. The fundamentalist protagonist thrives on negativity. Sure, his religion is based on negativity more than anything else and negativity brings him a martyr's glory. Sneers validate him and his message and the version of God he serves. Nothing legitimizes the prophet like a little scorn.
I wish they'd leave him alone. Not because I sit and cheer for him but because removed as I am, I understand the situation and know it's only furthering both themselves and him in negative directions. Even in conservative Nebraska at a university where surveys find the students are far more to the right than the professors, most kids still have a healthy disrespect for anyone more spiritual/religious than themselves. Even though few would ever really disparage Christianity as a whole, the majority of students seem to tip the nose at anything and anyone different from themselves. Sure, they go to church on Sunday and maybe Campus Crusade or some somewhat hipper evangelical young adult ministry with an edgier, more "extreme" moniker but anything outside of that is strange and, therefore, something to laugh at or flat-out point out as wrong.
Our preacher, though, shouting in his raincoat, singing gospel songs off-key and inviting students to "Come forward and receive Jesus," I don't want to laugh at him. I was trained to be just like him for so many years and I sense a sort of comaraderie. Mostly, though, I'm embarrassed for him. He's doing something and saying something he believes in deeply and I admit to admiring him for that, I suppose. I feel ashamed for the man, though, because his methods are tacky, inexcusably tactless. Even worse, I believe in the same bottom line, essentially, in the grand scheme of things and I know that his faith is different but strong. No, I feel embarrassment because he's oblivious to his own lack of propriety and I'm ashamed because I long ago realized that street preaching in today's culture can rarely be done without involving some sort of frantic lunacy. I'm not talking about a public rally but rather ranting and raving at anyone, everyone walking past. In ancient cultures a street prophet was commonplace, often legitimate. Today he disqualifies himself from the public discourse by virtue of his methods. Nostalgia attempts to force comparisons between his plaza pleas and John the Baptist or Ezekiel or Jeremiah, prophets I was taught to follow both in message and in method. In an era of fractured Christianities, however, the street preacher froths and foams, bellowing out both trite phrases that simplify Christianity into distortion and nonsensical metaphors intended to pull at emotions. Maybe most people laugh and a few of us feel sorry and embarrassed for him for the same reasons: he's convinced he's right and we know he possibly can't be but his words and mannerisms leap into our faces and demand some sort of reaction. No one can pretend he isn't around. Some of us can't go on with our continuous chain of meaningless insignificancies. Others of us find it impossible to be good little enlightened semi-relativists because fundamentalism insists on being regarded as right or wrong, period. A few of us, however, recognize the shade and smile, remember our own struggles and pray for a soul who, right or wrong, is pleasing his God, even if he's partially invented Him.

The lecture on the geographic wanderings of the Ponca Indians turned out to be fairly interesting. My body crashed (ie, I battled falling asleep) there for a bit, but only because I'd been working on various things for about 11 hours up to that point.

This morning I've gone from Starflyer 59's new EP to Scissor Sisters to Willy Mason to Talib Kweli to the Flying Burrito Brothers.

Our little student-run college radio station asked me to look through several large boxes of CDs and pick out what might be good to play. They asked me maybe a month ago and I finally found time for it last night, picking through what was left after quite a few others sifted through. I found a still-sealed copy of Leonard Cohen's Dear Heather that must have inexcusably fallen in (most of what was around was a few years old from the last time someone tried to do a radio station, I think -- this particular group has only been around since last year as far as I know). They were right, not a whole lot of good stuff left, but I found a few gems like the newer Standbye album, some Son Volt, I forget what else. Only one of the current deejays is really playing new "college rock" (see CMJ, indie rock/rap/folk) stuff but his show is worth listening to ( on www.mavradio.org from 1-3pm CST Wednesdays and Fridays). The guy is in one pretty decent (so I hear, haven't managed to check them out for myself yet) band around here and just started drumming for Kite Pilot (www.kitepilotmusic.com), at least as a fill-in. Most everyone else there is happy to work at a "college radio" station but remains stuck in the mindset that "new and edgy and alternative college radio" means Puddle of Mudd, Saliva, pop punk, Nelly, etc. If I could afford to just take classes and not work during the day, I'd be a DJ there myself but they only play during hours I work.

Nights this week find us busy. Tonight I'm staying at the university after work for a while before going to some geography-related event at which someone will talk about the Ponca Indians. She gets extra credit for it in a class and I'll just get the satisfaction of having learned new things. I'm not being sarcastic when I say I don't really mind this at all.
Last night we had a bookstore-related meeting with our new priest and his wife. They're super people and getting to know them is something we're really digging quite a bit. Both are quite knowledgeable and hold great vision. Our church is in a fairly significant transition, I believe, and Stacey and I are part of the sort of "new wave" of folks getting involved and whatnot in the small parish. By "transition" I don't mean that the church itself is changing doctrinally or socially or liturgically, God forbid...but rather that in much talking of "the future" and "the church members who will carry the parish in the fugure," well, some of us are here already and starting to do so. One of the great things about our parish is that it's a solid, health, balanced mix of both folks who started it and sweated and bled out those early years (most of whom came over as disillusioned Anglo-Episcopalians) and people who have recently sought and found Orthodoxy and are beginning to understand how they figure into the future.

Today I'll be listening to a couple volumes of Lee "Scratch" Perry's Arkology set. Maybe some U-Roy. At what point I need a break from reggae, I've got Arthur Russell, Two Gallants, Black Flag, Calvin Johnson and some PF Sloan to choose from.
My reading lately has been The Brothers Karamazov (which I should've read YEARS ago and hopefully can dedicate loads of holiday "free time" towards this year), Believer magazine, Uncut magazine. I'm kind of interested in the new Tom Wolfe book but it's probably going to have to just join a rather long line.

I'm excited to have some new reviews up on the zine. While tonight probably won't see much getting done, tomorrow and the weekend promise to be productive. I've been playing a Nintendo emulator on my computer a bit lately, enjoying some of the old games I played years ago. Hopefully I can use that as a reward rather than just a distraction. The plan is to start writing consistently and work on getting others on board who will, as well. Once I know that I'm able to keep this going decently well, I'm hoping Katy will resume the role of music editor. I want to be a bit more assured of my own consistency before talking and making solid plans but I did respond to a message from Jonathon about it, anyway...she's talented in this realm and I know we'll make a good team if I can get my act together. Carter's been busting his butt adding new great things to the site/community and that's encouraging for all of us. I really do hope this is the beginning of us really actually doing something. I'm still not sure how I'll juggle family life, work, grad school, church stuff and the zine but I'm excited and very happy about all of them and glad to be in the position to have all those things looking great and on my plate. I feel as if I'm in a pretty creative groove and happy with the way things are turning out so far...my Smiths & Daniel Johnston tributes review is something I'm very proud of. I rarely claim any kind of objectivity on my own work (usually I think most of what I write absolutely sucks, honestly) but I think I did well on that and hope it's indicative of fine work to come. I never really know how well I'm doing most of the time, though, so getting Katy back involved as a writer and as a music editor (and editing partner for whatever else I write) soon is important to me.

Thanks for reading my thoughts and as always, I love your comments...thanks to those who toss them in now and then.

Yesterday was a long day. Stacey had a big Literature test, I had the MAT (Miller Analogy Test, taking that or the GRE is required to get into the English Grad program here). Once we were done with our tests we went out to McFoster's (superb vegetarian, even vegan dining in Midtown Cowtown) with Ryan, Jenni and Liz for Jenni's birthday. The Tempeh Reuben satisfied me quite nicely. Hanging out with all of them is always a super time. Once we were done with that we had to go shop for the big Sunday School event at our house tonight, rent the video, etc.

We finally got home around 9:30 to find a handome, charming black male cat wandering about in front of our front window. Flannery has a history of lacking civility toward other felines and we hoped she wasn't worked up into to much of a rage. Stacey, being her animal-loving self, tried to pet the black cat and withdrew when she realized he was being friendlier than male cats normally are. Sucker was in heat, poor guy. We managed to get inside with some groceries and found Flannery anything but scorning the young fellow. She was, in fact, quite taken with his overtures and enthusiastically attempted to step outside. Despite having been neutered as a very young kitten she seemed interested in what George (Stacey names everything nearly immediately) had to say. We had a difficult time getting the rest of our groceries, backpacks, etc. in the door without one or both of them leaping across the threshhold and into what would no doubt have been bloodthirsty fornication. He obsessed over her for the next couple hours, at least, and she spent time both enjoying our attention and pining for his in the window.

The last couple days I was frustratingly sick. Too much going on for that, though I suspect "too much going on" contributed to it. Anyway, I've caved and done some research and concluded that I have IBS. That on the top of a couple years' worth of weight gain and just overall feeling crummy brings me to an interesting place. I want to be ascetic and control myself but it never quite happens. I've been playing the "just gotta make sure I'm not being legalistic" card for a couple years now and I keep justifying lack of exercise with a variety of reasons...telling myself I should be able to eat whatever I want because my job is lousy and it's something to look forward to. Maybe looking forward to being able to climb stairs without feeling as if my life might end soon should be a new argument. A major issue for me has always been that I can come up with arguments for and against everything. I was never a bad kid, really, but when I misbehaved or did something my parents deemed punish-worthy, I didn't go the route of lying about it (as so many children do) or flat-out saying, "I did it, yes, and I'll do it again, I'll do what I want whether you punish me or not" (as my sister would). No, I was always the kid lawyer, establishing arguments for why such-and-such rule was illegitimate and, in fact, contrary to another rule (the precedence of which, of course, was established until IT ran afoul of another rule's intent). I worked hard to find the loopholes. Anyway, I've always had this affinity for those sorts of things and unfortunately it leads to my being able to talk myself out of and around things I know very well I should do a certain way. I need to stop making excuses and arguing with myself and do what I really know is best for my own health. What's even worse about all this is that my spirituality insists that I make healthy choices, and I've been negligent in regards to that as well. Part of being healthy spiritually is making healthy choices physically.

Having talked now about healthy eating, I start wondering when Panera Bread Company will start carrying their holiday bread again. We absolutely fell in love with that stuff last year. I remember driving around in the nasty sleet Christmas Eve in Mishawaka, Indiana, last year trying to find Panera Bread so we could have holiday bread for our family get-together the next day. I'd not driven in Mishawaka for quite a long time and the roads had been redone, I'd never been to the new Panera, and I couldn't see anything because of the sleet. Very few breads or desserts are worth almost dying on the eve of Christmas, but if any bread is worth it, Panera's holiday bread is.

Tonight I think we're finally going to pick up a new vacuum cleaner. We have Target gift certificates people gave us for our wedding that we keep intending to use for one, but the Target store near us NEVER has in the vacuums we want. They have two different ones on floor model display that are within our budget and would work nicely and even show up on sale occasionally in their advertisements but that store never has more than the floor models. We've committed to visiting one of our other area Targets tonight in hopes that we can get it and our floor can be clean for the Sunday School activity at our house Friday night. Cleaning up trouble spots with a hand-sweeper is fine but we're ready for the big leagues.
Once again, my journal winds and weaves past reflection and intelligence, landing on self-indulgent boring domestic ramblings.

If you don't hear from me in the next couple days, wish me luck (or pray to the deity of your choice) on the Miller Analogies Test, which I take Thursday night as a step on my way into the English Graduate program. Shouldn't be a big deal, but all I need is a rotten day that leaves me unable to come up with reasonable deduction skills for another 50 minutes.

For some reason I woke up this morning in a lousy mood. Part of it has to do with the fact that I lay there, back sore, thinking about several situations in which I'm pressured now. Some of it has to do with my being absolutely exhausted the past few nights and not being able to write or work on writing-related or bookstore things at all. My mood was enhanced by slamming a toe while on the day's first bathroom break. Prayer and meditation always help things, though. I feel better after having chanted Matins. Well, not the entire office of Matins, but the Psalms. Someday I hope to chant Matins and Vespers whether I'm at church or not, but I'm not there yet.

I was just writing an email to my dad. He'd asked for Christmas present ideas for Stacey and myself. I started out writing about our plans for this Christmas, a couple projects we're looking to do, and ended up on this long rant about how I have a feeling that God's less concerned with a few homosexuals being allowed to share benefits and a bit more concerned with the fact that much of our nation lives in excess and calls itself concerned with "family values" while so many families live in poverty, so many people are homeless with no real hope for recovery, and so on.

I don't want to use this blog as some sort of ultra-political rambling place. God knows I use the Vagrant Cafe for that enough! I have to say this, though.
If these past elections taught me anything, it taught me that we can't rely on mainstream Protestant evangelical Christianity to "come around." Yes, many great organizations like Sojourners are working to help that happen, and it will in small increments. An honest look at the situation shows that the main voices and movements still have James Dobsons and Jerry Falwells putting all their effort into spouting about Hollywood and Gays and MTV and all that. Whether or not they're well-intentioned isn't for me to judge. However, in this past election, millions and millions of voters who proudly call them Christians and with decent intent vote what they see as being "for family values and moral issues." The situation is what it is and whether people are still just oblivious, have personalities that keep them focused on certain issues or are stubbornly refusing to listen to anyone not of the James Dobson mindset or think about other issues...I don't know. The situation is what it is and without sounding like I advocate "giving up," I'm realizing that we're all accountable for our own actions and it's time I started taking more of my own. I'm not going to stop talking about these things or trying to persuade others that perhaps Christ is more concerned with how we treat each other and "the least of these" than he is about gay marriage and the forms of entertainment non-Christians make. However, while many of us who are saying these things don't have much money or influence ourselves, I know that as for myself, it's time to do even more with what little I do have. To help others, to spread a Gospel unwarped by SUV mentalities and based less around stopping other people from doing what we don't agree with and more focused on what Christ actually brought to earth.

Yesterday morning introduced us to this fall's first frost. We were fortunate to get the kind that froze especially sticky and comes off only with hard scrubbing and early morning sweat.

I just realized that we probably forgot to turn off the heat this morning. We're trying to be very good about not having it on more than necessary, even (usually) turning it off at night (which I forgot to do last night after falling asleep accidentally). My dad would be very proud of how I've been keeping the temp around 55 when we're not home and might even overlook my forgetfulness regarding oil changes.

If you haven't read the obituary of George W Bush by Greil Marcus, you should.

While I'm handing out reading assignments, I also assign you to read this piece on Gary Snyder, his poetry and his focus on the ecological crisis. For those who may not be aware, Gary Snyder is/was a Beat poet, contemporary and friend of Kerouac, Ginsberg, etc. The character of Japhy (in Dharma Bums) is based on him, he was at Ginsberg's famous first reading of "Howl," etc. I wish this article had been around when I did my critical analysis paper on his "Smoky Bear Sutra."

This morning while carpooling to work Stacey and I were talking about how we both feel as if we've matured quite a bit since moving here. Granted, I was 24 when I moved here 3 years ago and she moved here only a year ago and is just 21 now so the situations are a bit different, but it's interesting to look at our development in thinking and perspective. She said that a few years ago she never would have thought of herself married and living in Omaha and actually enjoying a literature class and reading. As part of an education degree she has to take an Intro to Lit. class, a big focus of which is critical literary analysis. She's actually very naturally adept at that sort of thing, which surprises her much more than it does me. I guess it's something I saw in her before she realized it was in her. Then again, I also have a history of projecting qualities on others that I want to see in them, so maybe this time we both just got lucky. Speaking of lucky, we're lucky she has more common sense and is better grounded than I am. I'll spend hours picking something apart the same way I'd work on a term paper when all the situation really calls for is someone who can use eyes and common sense. We generally arrive at the same conclusion. She gets there much more quickly but I can spend an hour explaining it. We do well together that way.

Well, I've managed to make it through an entire entry without discussing or even really referring to the election. It's not that I wouldn't like to, but I've done so enough on the Vagrant board that anything I'd want to post here would need to be more general as opposed to specific to particular discussions going on in the forums.
I will say that I almost ruptured a larynx screaming at Jerry Falwell on Anderson Cooper's program last night. Luckily Ralph Nader was on later and the enthusiastic nodding did my throat good. I wanted to vote for Nader this time around but went pragmatic, hoping against deep odds that perhaps our semi-urban county would possibly squeeze out one electoral vote against Bush (remember, we can do that in Nebraska). The election commission probably won't have the numbers on how close it was in our county until next week but my guess is that it wasn't even close.

The soundtrack to this entry was provided by Bob Dylan's Basement Tapes.

This morning I can't escape a terrible feeling of dread. Most of the time I have an underlying paranoia and anxiety in regards to myself and close family/friends, that maybe something might happen but I blame that on earlier life events and the fact that my dad sort of ingrained that in me. It's not a terrible thing and keeps me careful on several levels.
Today feels different. I feel as if something catastrophic on a much larger playing field than my own personal and immediate life is about to occur. I'm not trying to be dramatic and come across as "Something terrible will happen if the wrong person is elected!" because I've already resigned myself to not being happy about either person who ends up president come January. I can't say as I'm even scared insane of a major terrorist attack, I don't feel anything that specific. Hopefully all that's wrong is something in my head.

Dreamshade (LiveJournal user) asked about trick-or-treaters this year. We did have quite a few more than the two last year. We had hoped (and bought candy for) quite a few more, unfortunately. Overall we probably had maybe 25-30 kids come by.
Costumes I remember:
A little boy (maybe 2-3 years old) dressed up as a bride. He was led around by his sister, who was dressed up in black and white "gothgirl" type wear.
A girl dressed up like a tiger. Our cat immediately liked her.
A kid maybe 7 years old dressed up like a baby. The oversized diaper kept falling off as he ran down the street.
A few "skeleton" types and a couple princesses.
Spiderman dropped by.
As did a boy dressed up like a girl. He was arguably prettier than his sisters, who were dressed in red and black dresses but I'm not sure were any particular characters.

Almost all the kids came by between 5:15 and 5:45 or 6. We had a couple stop by here and there after that but not really too many at all. Then around 7:15ish a few people rang our doorbell. Stacey thought they were teens but they looked to adults to me. Then again, that misperception has gotten me in trouble before so she was probably right. They were dressed up like "bums" or something along that line. They seemed not quite right in the head to me. They lacked the sincerity of homeless people.

The next couple days look to be heavy busy. Tonight I'm going to work on church bookstore business for a while before the All Saints' Day mass. Tomorrow after Stacey's class we'll go home, grab some food and vote, then I'll be at the All Souls' Day mass. The end of this week I need to start actually getting ready to take the MAT test next week.

I just realized that by the next presidential election I'll be in my 30s. Will I be wiser? Will I still be able to trust myself? Will I still be working a mundane entry-level office job? Will we have better choices for president? Will I even have a conscience to vote with?
I've thought about running for something, anything in 2008, if for no other reason than to distract me from what will probably be an even worse presidential election. On the other hand, I struggle with making choices about changing lanes, what to eat for dinner and those sorts of things. I'm so forgetful that I've been meaning to buy shoelaces for my boots for a couple months now (I'm currently wearing two obviously different kinds) and I can never remember to pay all the bills on time. Besides that, my bladder is too active to sit in lots of meetings. Can't do it. Wouldn't be Prudent.