After work, I called Katie, and let the dog out. Involved with the conversation, I wasn’t paying the Doop much attention. Across the street I heard a scream or a shout come from some woman. At first I ignored it, thinking it was a game or something, but it kept up. I looked across the street and there is this woman following a shaggy dog at a brisk walking pace periodically screaming “Oh God! Oh God! Oh Jesus help! Oh God!”. Two reasons that I didn’t help her reacquire her dog.
- She’s providing my with prime entertainment. If I help her, the entertainment comes to an end. She’s freaking out over a dog that won’t come back to her because she’s freaking out.
- Invoking God’s name in a cry for help only makes me want to help if the name is meant. She wasn’t using it because she wanted God’s help, she was using it because she swears with it. So, no help from this kid.
I noticed that the Doop had found a mother and two kids walking up Myrtle, so I went over to pull the dog back. It was a nice time for everyone involved, so I wasn’t in a rush to get my dog back from the kids, who were petting him. As I walked towards the mother, the woman with the dog started screaming again (just to fill in the blanks, there is no doubt in my mind the whole of North Terrace could hear her), I looked at this mother with a “WTF?” look and she looked back with “Yeah, that woman’s nuts,” Both of us were determined to ignore Crazy Woman With Dog (which is her Native American name), but CWWD’s shaggy dog walked out into the intersection (no cars are involved in the entire duration of this story) and CWWD started flipping out big time. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh Jesus help! Oh God!” even louder and faster. I looked at the mother, she looked back at me, and we started calling the shaggy dog to us. The dog came over and started sniffing around the kids and the Doop. CWWD arrived at our group and was clearly out of breath from the exertion of walking briskly. “Thank you so much, I get so scared when he gets loose,” I felt like asking “Seriously?” Now here comes some fun. Shaggy and the Doop start fighting. Big time. The two kids are petting the Doop when this starts, so now we’ve got CWWD grabbing for shaggy, and the mother grabbing for her kids, and me grabbing for the Doop. I tell Katie I’ll call her back.
Once all parties have their respective charges under control, CWWD’s husband shows up.
Oscar de la Renta during an interview with Vanity Fair was asked if he were to die and come back as something, what would it be. He replied: “A dog, so my wife would love me more.” Chances are CWWD’s husband and de la Renta have that one thing in common. Husband tells CWWD that the dog is running because she’s hysterical. She flips out on him, he goes defensive, and she escalates. Right there in front of my house, they get into it. Mutually the mother and me decide that we must not have anything more to do with CWWD and her doings, and lead our respective charges away. From my window in my room I could still hear CWWD and her spouse yelling at each other.
Freedom Place, I was left in charge of the “faith moments”, which I winged it, like always, and I think I did a decent job. One of the kids said I should “always do groups”. I know I don’t do as good of a job as Rob does. I think that I’m better at talking to the kids about what goes on in their day to day life, you know, giving them a place to talk about whatever they think is important, than Rob is. That’s a good thing, and that’s a bad thing. The good thing is that the kids get to voice their thoughts, the bad thing is, I’m not good at putting boundaries on it, so a interesting conversation about some school dramatics can quickly degrade into chaos. My bad.
After Freedom Place I went to Wal-Mart and bought Rascall Flatt’s Feels Like Home, the Gorillaz new Demon Days, and Chapelle Show Season Two DVD.
In the last forty eight hours I have nearly been struck by traffic because the driver in question didn’t use their turn signal SIX different times. I will likely be dead in a week if this keeps up. I think I’m going to print up and laminate a card that says “TURN SIGNAL” on it to whip out and wave at drivers who endanger my life and limb, if that’s not enough, their personal property too.
Chrystal and mom, for some reason, both wanted me to go to a Philadelphia mission trip meeting, both of them cited I should go to at least meet some of the people that I’d be going on this trip with before actually going. Fine fine, ok.
It was boring. I was introduced to some people, so I guess that sated the pretense of what got my butt up off of the couch, but eh. One thing of note: one of the exercises we did was to write down our “story”. That’s the personal witness that we’re supposed to use in the mission field. We were instructed to keep it “short and real”. We had a paragraph. I had a single paragraph to describe God and mine’s relationship? Everyone else in there apparently had their story memorized, because they put pen to paper immediately. I wrote something down. I probably wouldn’t have bothered at all if I knew we weren’t going to be sharing.