Reconstitutional, Part I

Tea: Vanilla Lapsang

Music: The Rainmakers, "Small Circles"

Time: Night.

I've never been able to wear a wristwatch. Not that I don't like knowing what time it is, but I can't stand having anything around my wrist while I type -- which is pretty much all the time for me.

But on my left wrist, there's a makeshift bracelet of red cord, flecked with black and yellow. It's knotted in such a way that I can adjust the fit with a simple tug, but that's not why I've been wearing it since December the 30th.

The bracelets were given to all the adult sponsors at the two-state church youth conference I attended just before the turn of the year. The idea was to differentiate us from the teenagers -- not so much a problem for me, I know, but some of the sponsors were in their early 20s and looked younger.

The theme of the conference was "Goodbye Ordinary." The guiding principle: that risks must be taken and patterns broken if spiritual progress is to be made. I have much progress to make, spiritually and otherwise (although the "spiritually" should, ideally, drive the "otherwise." So I'm leaving the bracelet on not as any outward sign -- it doesn't proclaim that "Jesus is My Homeboy" or even ask "What Would Jesus Do?" -- but as a reminder.

That bright red bit of cord reminds me that I am nowhere near any kind of There -- and that I won't ever reach it if I don't take the steps to get there.

Plotjuggling

Tea: Vanilla Lapsang

Music: Switchfoot, "Gone"

Time: Night.

I go through periods, periodically, where I find myself immersed in more than one book at once.

Come tomorrow, I may be up to three. By the end of the week, it could be four.

The other day, I misplaced my copy of Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. (It went missing at a critical time in the plot, too. Frustrating.) So I picked up John Knowles' A Separate Peace, which two of the kids have already read and which I started a few weeks back but had let lapse.

Finished Knowles. Still no sign of Pratchett/Gaiman. So I started in on Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job (yep, one of the Barnes and Noble Christmas books). It's utterly engrossing (see also hilarious, touching, menacing and brilliantly written) -- so, of course, once Moore had his latest hook in me, Good Omens turned up.

At about the same time, I found another mislaid book: Darryl Tippens' Pilgrim Heart: The Way of Jesus in Everyday Life, which was loaned to me by a friend. I need to read and return it. So it could wind up going on tomorrow's church trip with me.

I also want to return to a long-distance shared reading of Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of the Senses, which likely will resume on New Year's Day. There will be, of course, some rereading required to catch up.

I tell people "Words are my life." This verges on the ridiculous ... but it's a pretty good sort of ridiculous.