there's no place like gnome.

It turns out getting internet is like a mediocre drama film.

No romance, horror, or documentary.  But there was a little comedy as Daniel, once again, used the word comma as a spoken part of a sentence and not just as a squiggle on paper.  I love grammar humor.  Oh, Daniel.  [Who, I realized, reminds me totally and completely of prom date and friend, Timmy.  Totally.]

He arrived, along with his assistant/girlfriend/truck passenger.  Dashed romantic notions aside, they went to work.  Walking on roofs, pulling cable, and climbing up tall ladders, eventually a cable made its way to the router.  The. church. has. internet.  Praise Jesus.

My house, however, does not.  Putting aside some questionable ethics, we’ll wait and see if a wireless booster does the trick.  If not, well, I’ll wear my sweats and bring a blankie to church to watch The Office, season seven, of which I have seen no episodes.  [woe to me, right?]

Mediocre drama it may be.  Hopes both realized and dashed.  The outcome positive but not the best case scenario.  No hearts broken but no love found.  But truth is, I’d watch this mediocre drama any day.  And now with fast internet, I can stream it online.

Ticket, please.

I’ve waited.  And dreamed.  And waited.  Finally, the day is almost here.  Tomorrow.  The day when I can once again watch my television shows online, peruse google reader, and send an email in less than five minutes.  Oh, the glorious day.

Tomorrow is it.  The internet comes tomorrow.  There are lots of expectations and there has been lots of time to think about what the day will actually be like in the last seven months of mediocre to poor internet.  I’ll spell it out for you according to movie genre.  

Here’s how the day would go if my life were a romantic comedy:

Last time Daniel, the internet man, was here, he cracked a grammar joke.  [I always say humor is the way to my heart.  Make it grammatical humor and that’s the fast lane to my love.]  He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring either.  I imagine him walking in, and I tell him that he’s my favorite person ever.  [That might actually happen.]  He sets up the internet, cracks another grammar joke, and is intrigued by my pastoral charm.  He asks me out.  I say yes and blush.  ps he drives a truck.

If my life were a horror movie:

Daniel comes.  It starts to storm with crazy rain and lightning.  Because of the weather, he cannot set up the internet.  Oh, the horror.

If my life were a documentary:

It would be hand-held camera style with likely much footage of Daniel explaining to the camera how his type of miraculous internet works while standing on the roof.  I would be near-by, soaking it all in, likely wearing my cleric collar to maintain all clergy stereotypes.  There would be an interview of me, probably sitting in a church pew with the altar in the background, sharing my feelings and woes of life with no internet.  When the internet is set up and works properly, the church would have a hamburger feed.  There would be balloons. 

If my life were a foreign film:

There would be subtitles, a la llamas in Monty Python.

In real life? 

Stay tuned.  The story will be told tomorrow.

Tomorrow.  Tomorrow.  

Tomorrow.

I went at Cabela’s tonight because Mabel needs some sort of boundary control, most likely in the form of pain.  She runs off a lot these days – if I give her the chance – and it’s frustrating.  I say naughty words.  So I talked to Duane a lot about my options at the store.  If I have any further questions, I’m supposed to call and ask for him.  “Just tell me you’re the church lady.  I’ll remember.”

This church lady also got her hair cut in the Cities this evening.  Her name is Tiffany and I think we’re in a [hair dresser – head of hair] relationship now.  She gave me duck clips.  The feelings are obviously real.

Remember how yesterday this church lady received a lawn mower tutorial from Bob?  [It’s a thing.]  Today, I tried to start the mower and it didn’t work.  I feel so incompetent and helpless when it comes to mechanical things.  Read more about the lawnmower and my feelings here.

This church lady got home late from the escapades in the Cities … and the lawn was mowed.  I figure there are a few options behind it –

1. The mower started just fine when Bob stopped by to look at it and then he felt sorry for the pathetic girl who couldn’t do it herself.  If so, I’m embarrassed.  Completely.

2. The mower battery needed jumping.  Bob did so and had to run the engine.  So he mowed.  If so, I feel guilty that he did the whole lawn.

3. Bob mowed and thinks his pastor is a pathetic church lady who can’t start a mower or do anything mechanical.  If so, I feel totally stupid.

The pessimist in me bets on one and three.  Chances of me turning beet red the next time I see Bob?  Very high.  I’ll never live this down.  I feel like I should bake him cookies.  Or use my magic wand to erase his memory of it.  Maybe both.

Yesterday was Maundy Thursday, the first of the three holy days leading to Easter morning and the empty tomb.  It was a day of Maundy mishaps for me.

Let’s start at the beginning.  Mabel, being ridiculous and putting her whole 90 pounds into trying to get out the door first, shoved me and the door yesterday morning.  The door went right over the big toe.  Toe nail bent back.  Ouch.

I go to the office.  As I walk across the parking lot, a mysterious woman wearing bunny ears is going to her car.  [It’s not a joke.  I did, however, figure out who she is – a friend of my admin assistant.  She brought us Easter treats … as an Easter bunny does.]  I polish my Thursday night message, Marilyn and I have coffee, and the Easter bulletins are printed.  Good, productive stuff.

I changed the sign boards at the church – the first time since I arrived seven months ago.  I stare at the south one every time I walk across the parking lot and was so ready for it to not say, “Pray always” about six and a half months ago but never changed it.  I did yesterday … to “God loves his peeps.”  [With a clarifying statement of “his people” to amend the “peeps” for those who do not speak slang fluently, ie most of my congregation.]  [I also try to be as gender neutral as I can while referring to God but, well, God loves God’s peeps just didn’t have the same ring, and writing God loves her peeps might not have gone over so well with my peeps here.]  I changed one side and then went to the other to take down the command to “Be joyful!” [Seriously.  The sign would yell at you to be joyful.  Not a great way to make friends, sign.]  But then I ran out of Ps.  “God loves his … pees?”  We altered an R to a P and all was well with the world.

Then I set to line a bulletin board in the hallway with fabric.  [Why, on the Thursday before Easter, was I worried about a bulletin board?  Because that’s how I work.  I’m most productive at getting weird tasks done when larger ones loom in the near future.]  I tried to look at the back of the board, wondering the best way to cover it.  The large bulletin board fell.  I bled my own blood.  I did consider it a small accomplishment that I didn’t swear when it fell since Marilyn was just across the hall.  Score one for Lindsay.

Communion visit.

Lawn mower tutorial by Bob.  [It’s a thing.]

Lastly, last night was our Maundy Thursday worship service.  It actually was quite awesome.  I’ve been meeting with three fourth graders about communion and last night they had their first communion.  It was so fun to watch them come to the altar rail with their families and to see them as they experienced it for the first time.  We talked about how gathering at the table is important and a gift, and how each of us have a place.

Maundy Thursday service ended with the reading of Psalm 22 and the stripping of the altar.  I read the psalm from the lectern as the altar women stripped [the altar].  I’m standing there, reading, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” leaning on the heels of my shoes, as I normally do and shouldn’t, and suddenly my heel is gone.  First thought in my head is that my heel broke through the lectern platform and there is now a hole in the carpet.  Really, not a rational thought at all but you stand in front of a congregation reading a psalm with a suddenly broken heel and see what comes to your mind.  I realized then that indeed, my heel was broken, but actually, in the middle of reading, tried to bring my foot up so my free hand could check out the damage.  Again, not rational.  But that’s what happened.  The grace given to me was that Maundy Thursday is a service that ends in silence and I didn’t not need to walk out in any hurry or in front of the congregation.  I sat up front until most of them had already filed out.

Then I limped out, a perfect end to a maundy of mishaps.

On my home phone answering machine –

[elderly man’s voice]

Hi Jane.  This is Bigalow.  The Detroit Tigers are playing the Mud Hens in an exposition game and Detroit was winning 8 to 1.

I just wondered how you all were doing.

Okay.  Buh bye.

[distantly, not into the phone] I’m sure I got the right one.

[distantly, not into the phone] I think I had the wrong one …

[… and this isn’t the first time he’s called.  You’d think my machine saying ‘Hey, this is Lindsay’ would give him a hint.]

Live with Kelly [a tv show which somehow gains my attention many mornings, especially if Josh Groban is cohosting – he’s delightful] is in Banff, Alberta, Canada this week.  #jealous.

Then I received in my inbox a groupon getaways email [which I really just ought to unsubscribe from because all I want to do is go on every single one of their getaways].  There was a Canadian Rockies 11-day tour.  #sigh.

I want to go back to there.

Canadian Rockies – seriously breathtaking.  Banff – seriously touristy and expensive but fun for a day.  I looked into staying in/near Banff on my trans-Canadian excursion to Alaska this past summer and that was a no-go.  [To say it’s expensive is the understatement of the year.]  But oh – to have the time to go hiking and canoeing and exploring in the Canadian Rockies?  I want.

Oh, how I want to go again.  Oh, how I want to go anywhere.  Let’s face it – how much of this is wanting to go to Banff because it’s all up in my face this week?  OR how much of this is wanting to simply get on a plane and escape the chaos and crazy of church in holy week?

I’m going to go with a whole lot of one and a whole lot of the other.