A, B, and C
Say "hello, hello" to new friends to the blogger world. You will find them on the sidebar. Cody is akin to a blogging St. Paul who at first persecuted blogs but then was out driving on a very muddy road and his car swerved and then a big yellow light shone through the windshield-and then he suddenly liked blogs and started one of his own. Olivia is the "keep it under a bushel" blogger who had been posting for some time - EXCEPT SHE DIDN'T TELL ANYBODY!!! Shame, shame. Do not do as she has done. She is my cousin.
In other cousin news, there was a time of great enlightenment when on Thursday of last week, Chelsea and I officially realized that we were second cousins. Of course, we had figured we were related for some time, but it was the vague feeling like the one you get after you have had milk that is just past the expiry date. It takes you a while to feel comfortable in asserting - "it's not sour!" - you know what I mean! So we did our whole big geneological trace back, which is not that hard when you're second cousins, and lo - the epiphany was revealed. This knowledge has already proved useful, for we can call upon cousin power to fight off the forces of evil Armin when he tries to take the little green hacky sack and use it for malevolent purposes.
So we had house church at Chelsea's in Rosenort on Thursday, which meant I could carpool with Jason, Paul, and Jared on Friday. There are merits to carpooling. But I shall progress down this path no further.
On Wednesday, I thought it might be fun to walk through Osborne Village after getting off the bus at confusion corner. It was. I felt like I might get mugged when I passed in front of the Motor Inn. This feeling leads to the feeling of fun. Trust me. So I got down to Movie Village where I rented Krzysztof Kieslowski's "The Decalogue" which has provided some entertaining viewing. Look it up and you'll learn all about them. Wonderful stark look at characters and morality; each short is based on one of the Ten Commandments. Czech them out. [This joke doesn't really work, because Kieslowski is Polish, and not Czech, but I try, I try!].
After I picked up the movie, I was waiting for another bus to the north of the village, within the gaze of red brick apartments and an old cathedral. Then...it was odd... there was an old man, also waiting for the bus. He was
a)shouting loudly
b)in a thick accent
c)to himself.
It was the most peculiar thing. Even funnier was that a group of women had formed a good ten feet away on the edge of the boulevard - huddling together, trying to hide from this man while trying to act casual in case a bus came.
Well, my bus did come.