I thought to convey at least some of the more notable features that I enjoy when spending time at my home away from home in rural Clackamas County, as I frequently find something worthwhile to write about in such moments . After returning from dinner last night at the home of one of the many single mums in our congregation, I wondered if I would ever stop feeling it odd and noteworthy that I had eaten dinner at that place. After all, this was the third time in just over a month I had eaten dinner there, and the second time in three evenings, after having never been inside of the house in all of my previous time in the area, despite a great deal of interest in doing so. And then I thought to myself that there are some places, of which that home is one, that is will never cease to be noteworthy for me to visit–it is certainly not the only such home in the area, let me assure you–because the memories and feelings it conjures will likely never be forgotten. After all, I am not the sort of person who entirely moves on. Ever.
Of interest is that while I was thinking about these things and puzzling over the behavior of those with me at dinner, about how the lone daughter at the house in the evening was so kind and sympathetic to stray animals and so withdrawn from other people, my hostess for the weekend had other thoughts in mind that were far more comical than my own reflections. She asked me if I had thought it odd that we had been invited to dinner after services, had been told not to bring anything, and yet she had brought most of the food that we ate during dinner. I replied in my customary witty fashion that it sounded like a pretty redneck way to have dinner, but I meant it, as I often do, in the best way. Given my own background and upbringing, I do not find myself offended by the casual and quirky ways of those in the country, so long as they are the sort of people who are understanding of my own quirkiness. I would have greatly enjoyed growing up where I did if I had not felt so much as a rejected outsider among those I was around, since that is something I tend to take deeply personally.
This morning I remained in bed for quite a few hours, but as is often the case in those situations, I was probably a lot more productive than I would have appeared to the untrained eye. I ended up writing three book reviews and another post for the middle of July, and then after getting ready and eating some salad and some turkey sausage it was time for my hostess and I to do the shopping for tomorrow. First we went to get gas at a station near Molalla and I noted how unfriendly the people there were to outsiders, and how unwilling they were to be friendly towards strangers, even friendly strangers like myself. I also noted that it was odd how a gas station in Oregon, where people are forbidden from pumping their own gas, would have advertisements on the pump that could only be seen by the passengers of vehicles and by the pump workers themselves. And with that, we were off to Happy Valley where we did the vast majority of our shopping. I, as usual, treated my shopping for salad greens as preparation for Guy’s Grocery Games before racing off to finish the items and purchase them. After that we headed back to Oregon City where we went to get some flowers for tomorrow’s floral arrangements, and ended up with some pink and yellow roses and purple and orange gladioluses, and as we went to purchase the items she realized that she had lost her purse. She thought she had lost it in the store, but I went to check the car, found it on the backseat, and gave it to her with as little embarrassment as possible.
When I had returned and was working on writing a book review for the De Re Militari, the master of the demense asked me some questions related to the Great Commission and then the forty days that Jesus Christ spent on the earth after his resurrection. After making some comments I found out that he was working on his sermonette for tomorrow, still forming his thoughts about his message. I agreed with him that his topic was one that had not received a great deal of attention, and given that it will be one of the sermonette messages tomorrow, it may end up being discussed in greater detail as part of my own blog. I could see without too much trouble working up the subject into a mystery of the Bible post. In fact, I may do it later tonight and schedule it for tomorrow, seeing how little time I will have on the Last Day of Unleavened Bread to do anything as far as writing is concerned.
During the course of the afternoon, one of the sons of the house kept on bringing in his tree-cutting paraphernalia and telling us how much it was worth. I generally do not care how much things cost if I have no interest in buying them–I do not tend to even worry much about the cost of the books I am reading, and am often surprised that the academic works in particular are so valuable. It soon became evident why he was so concerned about the price of his tree-cutting tools, which he showed off to us like a proud mama cat, and that was that he needed to find enough work cutting trees to pay for his things. I jokingly suggested to him to put up on a billboard “Experienced Tree-Cutter Needs Work” with his phone number, as a reference to a sign for an experienced carpenter who had done just that on a homemade billboard just south of Oregon City. He did not seem to understand the joke, perhaps because he had not observed the billboard or thought of its relevance. In this world there is much that goes on of interest, if one will only stop to look at it, and then ponder and muse about it. There are no boring places, only boring people.
 See, for example: