Fun With Tucker and Friends at the IBBC

While I sit here bemoaning the fact that I'm uber-behind on Monochrome Monday and MIA for TCT (and to cope, scarfing down the Kit Kats), I start burrowing around in the archives to see how I used to write. What was the deal? I think I used to be funnier than I am now. It's like I've mellowed out or something. Anyway, that's off-topic. I decided, while looking through the archives, that I should write about my experience at the IBBC last night.

So, I randomly decided to go with RC and SC to the IBBC last night. Nothing special going on, I just wanted to meet Brother Tucker. You read that right. And speaking of reading rights, I'm surprised I didn't get mine read last night. Every time I step foot into the IBBC, I lose my mind. I get silly, probably from being around R and SC. Plus, I forget that their church is quite strict, and I just generally act myself.

So, RC is playing the piano and BW is leading songs. He starts singing as RC messes up. "Oh, let me try that again" RC announces from the piano. Good thing it's a small church.

Of course, I don't know any of the songs. But it doesn't keep me from singing! Just like at karaoke...

Oh yes, and another word about the songs, I generally sing with the guys because if this alto tries to hit the high notes, her voice cracks like a pubescent boy's. Not pleasant to anyone's ears.

So finally songs are over and PW (this would be BW's uncle) announces that some girl was writing to the church asking for money. BW confirmed (from the pulpit) that he knew the girl and that she had worked for Subway. Then he clarified that this was a Subway restaurant and not an underground train. Whoa.

Let's see... then RC comes back from the piano and sits next to me. BW sits down as well, being replaced by Brother Tucker. Brother Tucker wants to discuss the church's Easter sunrise service. I'm not paying attention as I'm not planning on attending. I'm also not planning on the discussion taking 15 minutes of church time! I'm not even sure, after all the discussion, what they decided to even do.

Anyway, it's finally time for the sermon (though it seems like the hour is already up) and Brother Tucker reads from Psalm 66:15 (though I don't remember how the Scripture tied into the lesson) I do, sadly, remember that he told some joke about a little kid whose teacher always transposed numbers, so the kid told the teach to write down 66 so that it would be the same backwards and forwards. The rest of the congregation was laughing.

Then, let's see... old Tucker starts talking about irrigation in Utah (how's that for randomness?) and RC writes down "It Never Rains in Southern California" (okay, it's a little obscure, but she and I both like it). Doesn't the name Albert Hammond mean anything to anyone anymore? RC slyly turns her notebook so I can read the song reference--she doesn't make eye contact with me--and then we both start snickering in the back row. We joked about being "Back Row Baptists" though I am not really a Baptist and their church claims to be independent (hence the "I" in the name).

Then, Bro. Tucker launches into another of his famous "Oh my soul!" tirades, which sends RC and I into another illicit giggle-fest (thought I was going to have to sneak off into the bathroom if this kind of thing didn't stop--I really didn't want to be offensive, but at solemn moments, I've noticed that things you generally wouldn't laugh about become about 100x funnier).

And oh, by the way, I guess RC forgot that, though it never rains in Southern California, it pours, man, it pours.

Iced Inn

I didn't get out much yesterday. I got up at 7:30, took my photos for True Colours Thursday, posted them, picked up some clothes from the laundromat, went to my Granny's to pick up some packages I had delivered to her house, went to the Dollar General for a box of mac and cheese (and some junk food), and was in the rest of the evening. However, I had heard that the weather was supposed to get atrocious later that evening. Didn't look so bad to me when I was out in it.

I had settled down in the recliner, somewhat ensconsced (shameless plug for Word of the Day) in our broken recliner, with a lap cat purring gently beside me, and preparing to read the next few chapters of The Maltese Falcon. The great thing about being mostly unemployed and out of school is that you can take time to do all those things you wanted to do but never had the time for, like read The Maltese Falcon.

Things were just getting interesting. I was familiarizing myself with Sam Spade's character and getting wrapped up in the mystery surrounding Miles Archer's murder when Mom started asking me about her blog. She just joined Blogger this week, and is still getting accustomed to its navigation. Since I've had Blogger for nigh on to three years now, I forget how confusing blogging is to a newbie. Trying to be patient, I explained to her the code for creating links (though I had it written on a pink sticky note in the computer desk for her). I picked up my book again. She then asked me how to upload photos. This is nice--she posted her first True Colours Thursday, herself. And I do remember how difficult it was for me to figure out posting photos back in December of 2005. I actually had to ask RC to give me a hand at the time. I re-read the same sentence I'd been on for 15 minutes. Mom interrupted my reading again to ask about spacing. And then about how to preview the post. I set my book down until she had succesfully posted her photos.

Thinking it was again safe to try to read my book, I tried once again to re-read the same stuff that I'd been reading during each of my interruptions, when my phone rang. It was RC. I decided to answer it, though I was in peak minutes, because it was about 6:30 or so, and I knew she had 30-45 minutes of driving to get back home. If the weather had gotten nasty, she might have actually needed something. When I answered, she said she was annoyed.

This brought back memories of how my grandmother called me while annoyed earlier in the day as well, but that's another story.

So I asked RC what the problem was, and her response was freezing rain. Apparently, RC has a cousin, LH, who lives a few blocks from where RC works. RC had asked LH if she could stay over in case of bad weather. The cousin had agreed. However, when RC called her, LH informed her that she was going to a party with BW. This really cramped RC's style, because she would either have to find a way to kill three hours before LH got home from the party, or else she would have to stay alone with LH's husband, DH. RC didn't want to do either of these things, so she found herself getting a room at a Day's Inn.

This is where she called me.

I commiserated with RC for a while, and then I asked her about the condition of the room. No apparent signs of blood or other human fluids were found in her room. I reminded her to be grateful of that, because I'd had my share of nasty motel rooms, and they weren't at all pleasant.

RC decided to hang up for a while so she wouldn't waste all my minutes, and then went to Steak 'n Shake for supper. I suggested this to her, as her motel was only steps away from the restaurant, and they never close. She later called me back (during my period of free minutes) to tell me about the rest of her misadventures. Apparently, she was so flustered that she sat down at the nearest table, disregarding (actually, not seeing) the sign that asked patrons to wait to be seated by a hostess. Then, after eating, she stepped onto the sidewalk to go back to her room, and slipped on the ice. Fortunately, she didn't fall, but from the sound of things, she had several close calls with the ice that night.

As she was recounting all these details to me, RC said, "I bet you're going to put this down in your Blogspot." 'Now why didn't I not think of that?' (inside joke). Suddenly, I felt like David Sedaris. In a manner of speaking, of course. Not being Sedaris, I can't honestly attest to his feelings, but I do know that his family is afraid to say or do anything for fear that he will write about it in one of his books. Thus, I took this little phrase from RC as a compliment.

So, though she was iced "inn" at a Day's Inn, RC should have had a good night's sleep. Though LH came home from her party at a decent hour, at least in the motel room, RC had her own TV, and nobody was around to tell her to change the channel.

Oh yeah, and I just decided to save Sam Spade for another day.