just nod if you can hear me

Helloooooo! Is anyone out there? Does anybody read this thing?

Greetings from England. I am presently in Manchester, sipping on English Elderflower Presse which is basically a fancy way of saying Sprite with a touch of rose flavor in it. It is 11:15 p.m. England time, and 5:15 p.m. back home time. The Pastor is asleep, and even though I took a sleeping pill I remain awake.

I was just in bed composing this blog post and wondering how on earth the Pastor can adjust to the time difference. Then I realized he hasn't adjusted, he's just finally found the right time zone for his weird self. Plus the man can sleep anywhere. It's not normally hard for me to fall asleep, but sleeping on an airplane is much different. But on the flight over, that man pulled his stocking cap over his eyes and slept practically the whole time, sitting up. Me, that's precisely when my Restless Leg Syndrome decided to kick in.

I know I haven't blogged much lately, but hey - there is only so much creative energy to go around! Here are some random tid-bits for you:

1. I am enjoying my co-ed status. However, since I last went to college I seem to have developed a mild form of retardation which means I can read something, go to sleep, and in the morning have completely forgotten what it is I was studying the night before.

2. I am enjoying the glamorous life of temping one day a week. Once per week, I "play" office. By the time I stop and get my Starbucks, I'm several dollars in the hole before I even get to work. Then I go to an office and work for a few hours at the rate of $10 an hour. I can't go out to lunch, because if I spend any more money after my cup of coffee I'm pretty sure I could be considered a "volunteer" for all practical purposes. I love being a temp because people act as though you are a non-person. As though you don't exist. It's fabulous. Also, I have the same conversation every week:

some random person or person(s) in the office: "I just don't see how you can work in such high heels"!

me, smiling and shrugging my shoulders: "Oh, I've just had lots of practice"!

3. I had the WORST kidney infection of my life. I was in bed, with throbbing kidneys, thinking of how I wanted to divide up my worldly possessions. I was going to have the Pastor send my Chocolate Loving Friend miscellaneous items of clothing and shoes to remember me by. And I had instructed the Pastor to bury me in the wrap dress. Not very good instructions though as the Pastor is easily confused and I have two wrap dresses and he'd probably bury me in the wrong one, and I'd be in the afterlife all ticked off at him. Once I asked him to get me an Eggnog Chai at Starbucks. Then I changed my mind and told him a Peppermint Mocha. He brought me back a Peppermint Chai. It's not a good idea to confuse the man with too many choices, he is a Scholar after all.

4. Speaking of the Pastor being a Scholar . . . he got to do a little presentation today on his dissertation. Great stuff if you are into Samuel, Saul, Judges, Abimelech, kingship, blah blah blah. Anywho, someone at the conference said about the Pastor "he has clearly MASTERED his material". So this is now the new catch-phrase when the Pastor does anything. Like tonight, when he jammed toast in the toaster, and was trying to get it out but only made smaller pieces of jammed up toast in the toaster and then made our room all smokey trying to burn it out, I told him he had clearly mastered his material. It really is funny ha-ha when someone really smart who has a degree and two masters degrees and almost a doctorate can't make toast.

I told the Pastor not to be too flattered. After all, one of the men at the conference listening to the Pastor pulled out his keys and proceeded to clean his ears with them. Smart people do not put sharp instruments in their ear canals.

5. More thoughts on dying. Mom and Dad drove us to the airport. I asked mom if she knew what to do if I died on the trip. She said no. And I replied me neither, but I'll be dead. She said she does know if someone dies overseas it's a giant hassle to get them back home. So I told her she should just leave me then, because I'd be dead and all. No purpose dragging me back home. But, she said, but but but! there would be no closure for Mr. Nathan. Ummmmm, alrighty then. I guess that settles it.

6. There's a wardrobe in our room. It is NOT the secret passage to Narnia.

OK, I'm going to try the whole sleep thing again. If anyone is reading this, their attention span is long-gone by now.