ah, back to work tomorrow . . .

Which, I do like my job.  If you have to work, at least do something you like.
At the DC, one of our elders had a part on a symposium and they announced it and I wrote his name down: 

William Connect.

Then he started speaking and I looked up in surprise because I knew who it was.  Bill Knecht.  They spell things funny here.

Now, in Arkansas, if you said Mike, half the elders turned to see what you wanted.  We had a Mike Wisdom, and if having a Brother Wisdom doesn't sound reassuring, I mean, seriously.   Then we had Mike Meche (said like Mesh) and Mike Woods.  Mike has a son named Scott and his wife Loretta is the one who helped me make all those costumes for the Hannah drama pictured earlier.  We had Billingsleys and Bowens, Oxfords and Staceys.  You know, names you could anticipate and pronounce.  Copeland.  Davis.  Oh, here's a big name for back home:  Satterthwaite.  McClain.  Bollinger.  Rader.  Of course we had some Smiths.  Nicky, Pepper, and Ian.  I just love names like Pepper.  I also love Skipper.

So Sister Scully wrote me that she likes following my blog.  She has time in summer because she doesn't read any secular books, but this is a little bit entertaining.  She is getting to know me better and it seems to her I communicate better in writing.  I have always known this about me.  I don't know why that is.  When I talk to people, I always feel like I am outside myself watching me make a fool of myself.  I feel like a high wire act, someone walking across a line with a long pole to stay balanced, but I am always leaning the pole towards either saying too much or too little.  But on this screen, oh this screen.  I am a lioness pulling down the mental carcass of zebra.  It's the only place in the universe where I feel fluent.

And one of my favorite things about Jehovah is that he has written a book for us.  One time I told Pepper, who is also a fine writer, in the parking lot of our Hall in Arkansas, I said, "Pepper, have you ever heard the writer's prayer?"
"No," she answered.  "How does it go?"
"Our Father, who art in heaven, and has also written a book."
And we burst out laughing like hyenas.  But it was funny standing out there in shirt sleeves on a balmy night with moonlight overhead.

When I do not write, I start to feel like a junkie withdrawing from it.  All my life, I've had some kind of writing project going.  Once, it was email to someone everyday.  For many months.  I don't want to do that again, and I want to keep myself spiritually occupied as the DC glow starts to fade and something or other crops up to discourage me.  And I have to say, I am so not happy with myself in the early spring here in Pennsylvania.  After a few months of winter, even with Vitamin D, I am just a hibernating bear.  I just come home at 5:00 and that is it for me.  I don't get up ea rly and I don't stay up late and I don't feel bad but I just want to sleep all the time.  So, in two years, actually 22 months, we are moving away from this harsh wintery clime if I can find a job anywhere else that is warmer.


In the meantime, I am going to try to stay focused on the real life.  For me, the best method to do that, is to incorporate writing.  It's who I am.  My favorite part of the yearbook?  Talk about the writing committee.  I just want to know how the literature is composed.  And the translation tidbits, wow.  They thrill me. 

Language is a gift from Jehovah.  He didn't share it with the animals.  That is part of why we are in his image.  I love that part.  I'll see you tomorrow.