(This post has been inspired by a comment I made a few days ago on another blog.)
On Sunday mornings, we generally sit on the front row of the balcony, on the right-hand side. We do this to keep Chad away, as much as possible, from the perfume and cologne that apparently are required in large amounts when one goes to church. (I personally have never received this memo.) I enjoy sitting there, though, because I can see just about everyone, and I get to watch them worship. It is brilliant to see other people worshipping. Seriously.
Anyway, we do have one worry about this vantage point: I might fall over one of these days. The wall in the front is sufficiently high to protect normal people from toppling over the edge. Lucky them. I, however, am plagued with vertigo (not to mention the sense of balance and grace of your average one-year-old), and I have a recurring fear that one Sunday morning I will be suddenly struck with dizziness and will wake up in the emergency room with various broken bits.
Chad and I have kept this possibility between ourselves, for the very good reason that other people already have enough reasons to make fun of me. But I am afraid I have given myself away to some extent: I have been told by at least three different people that they always know when I am dizzy in church, because they see me sway and then grab the wall. So much for subtlety.
The half-witted, half-baked, half-mad ramblings of a widowed, forty-something, earth-loving, commuter-cycling, theatre-going, runner-girl Christ follower. Abandon seriousness, all ye who enter here.
What are we talking about today?
I'll get back to theme days once I find a groove of posting regularly. In the meantime, most of my posts are about some variation of books, bikes, buses, or Broadway. Plus bits about writing, nonprofits, and grief from time to time.
This blog is mostly lighthearted and pretty silly. It's not about the terrible things happening in the world, but please know that I'm not ignoring those things. I just generally don't write about them here.
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