No, dad, I haven't started going to church again. I've been hanging out with spiritual folks lately as part of my outreach for area farmers markets, trying to figure out how to help feed the bodies of those whose souls the city's religious leaders are nourishing. In the course of my work, every so often I come across a line like this one -- uttered by one of the pastors at last week's Ecumenical Council meeting -- and I can't help but giggle. Damn straight.
Seriously, though. I sure hope next weekend isn't as hot as the past few have been. I thought I was going to melt right into the pavement while I was volunteering at The Bike House stand at the Bloomingdale farmers' market yesterday. I burned my hand at least twice reaching for a metal bike tool that had accidentally been left in the sun for a few minutes, and in spite of downing an entire water bottle I almost fainted during the unshaded ride home.
Now, bike repair has been my Sunday ritual for awhile now, and I tend to pride myself on my relative comfort in hot climes. But if the weather next weekend turns out to be like yesterday's I might have to forego the bike co-op in favor of church... purely for the air-conditioning.