Camera closure

I think it’s a sign of my impending breakdown that buying and breaking in a camera is turning into a neverending saga. This is post #5 on the topic. When we last left our hero in Post Four, the camera had been purchased in a convoluted transaction that involved goat sacrifice and a temporary dispatch note.

Cut to yesterday, the purported day of the Delivery of the Camera. Lisa called after getting home to say that UPS had left a notice at our door about a package requiring signature. You’ve got to be kidding me, I said. Nope, she said, and here’s the InfoNotice number. I went to the UPS site and requested a same day hold. They promptly called me back to let me know that the van with my package would be back at the depot by 6:30. Could I pick it up between then and 8?

To understand why I gritted my teeth when I responded, you have to understand the following:

  1. The UPS depot is a mile beyond the end of Rt 520 off Avondale Road, nominally not far from my office, but a great bloody long way during rush hour when half the population of Microsoft and related industries are all leaving 520 to the east into one of two tiny little stoplight choked Redmond streets.
  2. Our dogs’ day care place is also off Avondale Road, about two miles further up—about 25 minutes drive from our house if there aren’t any accidents.
  3. I was scheduled to pick up the dogs at 5.
  4. Since I couldn’t pick up the package until 6:30, I was guaranteed two long outings to Avondale Road in the same evening.

Anyway, I finally made it and brought the camera home. But as a result of all the hijinx, I haven’t been able to do more with the camera than verify that it works. I’ll try to post some pictures while we’re in Boston.

Preaching to the choir

Esta has been too busy to post for most of this semester, but wrote late Sunday night/Monday morning about her debut as a preacher. She had quite a baptism by fire, though I have to say that even compared to preaching a sermon at a retirement home and co-leading morning chapel, the most difficult of the three experiences for me would have to be helping to lead worship at the church in which we grew up.

I can say that from experience. In high school I gave a sermon in that church one Youth Sunday. If I recall correctly, I was quite the judgmental little snot, too. Of the two of us, I’m really glad that Esta was the one that got this particular Call. Her gifts are so much more suited for God’s word.