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Report from behind the Lines, Part V


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I love it when the wife's sick on Sunday. Actually, it's best when I'm sick on Sunday, but if the wife is sick, then that's second best. This way, I get to experience a little freedom! Er, but not until I actually manage to leave the house...


Wife's sick today. Now, about my wife--she's very conventional. If Hallmark tells her she must buy a card for this or that occasion, she will. She's a complete tool of conformity. So, this morning, after I slept in as late as possible (and hoping against hope that everyone does too, so that "D'oh, guess we missed church!" could happen) I do all the morning stuff myself. I fed the kids, dressed the little girl, and searched the house for the boy's missing belt. I cleaned the kitchen, fed the dogs, let 'em out, let 'em in, and we're all totally ready to go, when all of a sudden the sick wife rises from her fundamental bed, and I hear her say, "You're NOT going to church in jeans!" to my little girl. Criminy, we were right out the door almost! The jeans were nice, and flowery, and pretty. Oh yes, and Comfortable and pleasing. But the Good Book of Conformity says that all little girls must go dolled up in tights, curls, and big floofy dress if possible. Wife, despite her sickness, rushed the upset little girl into changing into a dress, causing us to be late, of course. And ironically enough, the dress the wife picked out was made of jeans material. I think, it too, had flowers on it. Good thing she caught my mistake!


But once out the door, the freedom may begin. The exact freedom I'm thinking of is shunting the kids into their sunday school classrooms, and then, with big imaginary rhinestone middle finger on the back of my jacket, I return to the car for an hour of solitary bliss. While the kids learned about Holy David chopping off Goliath's head, I engaged myself with excellent reading of swashbuckling sea-battles and high adventure with Conan, you know, the barbarian guy.


After sunday school, I strolled back into church with a big grin, reveling in the tales I'd just read about, picked up my kids, and we went in for the service. For the next half hour or so, my mood was really pretty good, because of this little escape I had. My only regret is that I wish today had been communion day. Communion comes with long introspective silences where you're supposed to make sure your heart was right with God, or else you go to hell, or die on the spot. I could have used that time dwelling on the amply illustrated naked pirate-queen that Conan adventured with. That image was worth lingering over ...


Only other thing worth mentioning is that we did some Responsive Reading guff. That is such major brainwashing--chanting in unison with monotonous voices. But when some of the reading is separated between only women, and only men, it is less monotonous. I really crack up when I hear all the men--we sound like a bunch of somber manly bulls--in contrast with the silly, fairy, feminine mice voices of the women.


That's it for today. And in answer to the tithing question from part 4, I dont anymore. Wife says it's my money since I am the only employed one, and my conscious. Since our finances have taken a hit recently, I've been permitted to pass the plate without letting it stop. Of course, she'll probably go around me sometime and just right a check someday, saying, "this is for the entire last year", and smile while doing it. That would be the more conventional thing, I suppose.

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bongo, nice to meet you. i am who the name implies. this is a very open,honest,entertaining, and experience you have been logging here. i have missed all of the other parts, but i am happy i was able to read part v.


keep em posting on this site.

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