Pudding, Cappuccino, and the IBBC (Not Necessarily in that Order)

Two days ago, my friend RC asked me for my vanilla pudding recipe. Of course, I forgot to email it to her until yesterday. It then occurred to me that pudding sounded good, so I made a batch of chocolate. I would have eaten the whole thing, except that her sister, SC, jokingly asked if I'd bring some with me later that evening when I was to go to the IBBC and watch both girls play their instruments for a praise service. I put down my spoon and acquiesced.

Fast forward to about 6:00 PM. I was ecstatic that I had just received my three blog awards from BJ, and was anxious to pass the awards on to Robin and Ray. Then it occurred to me that I needed to also add the awards to my own blog's sidebar. This all takes a ridiculous amount of time on dial-up Internet.

6:45...

"Come on! Hurry up, Blogger! I've gotta go!"

I really thought I was going to have time to post a little something before 6:45, as I was intending to stop by the gas station at that time for a quick cup of cappuccino to keep me awake. Alas, 6:45 came and went, and the next time I saw the clock, it read 6:54. The IBBC's Praise Night started at 7:00.

I passed on the cappuccino.

Though I only live a few minutes from the IBBC, I really only had a few minutes to get to the IBBC. I felt a rebellious rush of adrenaline as I sped through the residential part of town at a whopping 25 MPH! I was certain I would be late.

Side note: I don't generally go to things like this, but I'd never heard RC play her flute or SC play her fiddle (she corrected me, saying it was a violin--I corrected her, saying what's the difference), and anyway, it was the most exciting nightlife within a 20 mile radius. Well, and plus I kinda wanted to see RC and SC.

At the four-way stop where the IBBC is located, I was horrified to see that the parking lot appeared full. I made a go of it anyway, and parked in an area that I hope was a parking spot and not someone's yard. Running down the sidewalk, I'm surprised I didn't fall and break my neck or something. I threw open the door to the IBBC, and out of breath and slightly disoriented, I tried to take an inconspicuous seat at the back of the church.

Just like on the rare occasions when I go clothes shopping, my presence was not unnoticed.

Several men started coming for me, and, fearing that they perceived me as a heretic, I prepared for the worst. Instead, they each jutted their hands out at me, welcoming me to the IBBC, asking how I was, and a plethora of other questions that swarmed around my head in a frenzy. Still in a stupor, I started to sit down. At just that moment, another man came toward me. I thought I had taken his seat, apologized, and walked into the aisle.

"No, you're okay," he reassured me. Oh, another greeter. I glanced across the aisle to see SC and her violin. I felt safe then. I rushed over to her, hoping to avoid any more well-wishers. I'm terrible with people skills. Eye contact is something I have yet to master. Eventually, RC waddled over from somewhere. I really don't know where she came from.

The service was nice, but completely different from what I'm used to. I'm used to churches where dancing is not only appropriate, but encouraged. I caught myself dancing to even the slowest and somberest of songs, bumping into RC a few times by accident.

I was impressed by both RC's flute playing and SC's fiddling. I was a little alarmed at the number of criers at the church though. As I later told R & SC, I don't react well to crying: I generally either become severely depressed, or start laughing uncontrollably.

'Nuff said on that one.

Afterwards we went to the gas station I had previously skipped that evening and ordered the cappuccino that I was jonesing for all night. The caffeine high fueled a ridiculous evening of foolery and laughter, intensified by the fear we all held of being kicked out of the gas station, and perhaps even permanently banned (and they have the best tasting and least expensive cappuccino around). Fortunately, I used to work with the cashier who was on duty last night, and she knows how silly I can be (the two of us used to do Napolean Dynamite impressions even after they had gone out of style).

The alarming crescendo to the evening was when SC would not get out of RC's car to eat her pudding. Somehow this talk of pudding eating puts the song, "Another Brick in the Wall" into my head. Anyway, I had my car turned on and was twanging like a drunken fool to "Luckenbach, Texas," which I really don't even like, but it's a heck of a song to butcher, and there is SC, sitting is RC's car, refusing to budge. Finally, I was able to get her into my car so she could eat her pudding (that I so graciously saved for her) and then I could get home. Once inside my car, SC gobbled her pudding right down, but RC took her precious time. My dad thinks that perhaps RC didn't like my pudding and was trying to save my feelings. Finally, I told RC to just take the dern stuff home with her because I figured I'd have to go to work today and I was kind of wanting to get to bed.

For once in my life, I slept like a baby when I got home. That RC can really wear a person out!