Sunday, December 17, 2006

Dec. 16. 2oo6- Waiting... adventures. Team ADD

Dusk. A cyclist cycles by.
Lights become lit.
And I've dirtied my pants.
Climbing a tree. Twice.
While awaiting my ride.
He called a half hour ago.
He called my father me.
He asked if I had a shovel.
I donated my shovel to camp.
We are going to dig frozen water.
Tonight is to be festive.
And my pants are dirtied from climbing a tree, and the night hardly begun.
Some could view this as a poor sign to begin the night.
Me? Nothing wrong with a night of dirty fun!
If only the Pastor would arrive so we could get this show on the road.

So D finally pulled up, I partially scurried up the tree, he honked, I came down and got in the truck and on we drove. Paint chips from the hood occasionally flew up at the window as we attempted to find a place to "retrieve" "snow". The first arena we drove by, while avoiding the cops, had construction fences erected. We cruised the area but couldn't find a way in. Onward we went, towards Colwood and the JdF Rec Centre. We arrived to find the area locked up. We contemplated a scurrying attempt. We settled for diplomacy. Suddenly the Zamboni drove by... on his way to empty his load. D shouted at me to jump out and get him to dump it in the truck. I rapidly exited the still moving vehicle while tossing my hat in for safety and trying not to allow my beloved thermos to fall out. Dodging traffic and pedestrians I hurriedly approached buddy and his machine. He had ear protection on. Dang. He dumped. I waved. He inquired. I spoke. He informed me of the general unhygenic nature of rink "snow". The fact that it's full of hockey player sweat, blood, whatever fluids are leaked on the ice.... and said we'd need to talk to his bossman. He drove off. D went in. I parked the truck. The Bossman, seeing me, approaches. Asks if I'm the fellow from the church. I cautiously assent and he informs me of the unhygenic nature of the "snow". I'm starting to think.. maybe this isn't a great idea. D is unfazed. "They aren't gonna eat it! Just make ice sculptures with it". Ok. So Bossman hobbles over and around and unlocks the gate. D backs up. We shovel up. I wonder if I should be wearing a biohazard suit. And we get to work under the cover of darkness. We go, and go, and go. I stand atop the pile of biowaste on ice and wedge apart pieces of "snow" into the truck. Finally we are full. D pulls ahead. I lock the gate.. and we cruise towards the church. The parking brake is stuck. It unsticks. I smell rubber. D says the brake's off. We arrive at the church and I smell burning rubber still. Getting out I notice smelly steam from the rear wheel wells. A back full of "snow" apparently can sink the box enough that the wheels rub the wheel well. Lesson learned.

D ask's my learned opinion on product placement. Where should we set up the "snow". I locate a place for maximum viewing. On the grass by the corner. Everyone will see it when they drive in tomorrow. We unload the "snow" and form it into 2 roughly equal piles that bear a somewhat icy resemblance to Jabba the Hutt. Or the worlds crappiest "free form" snowmen. Basically... piles of "snow". The C&C's will create masterpieces out of them and all of the church goers will see the work in the morning. It is brilliance.

Fast forward, highligh version.
We go inside. We set up inside. We move TVs. We prepare nachos. I prepare the Yerba. Father Constantine and his wife show up. He is the new local Greek Orthodox Priest and sharing about what Christmas means in their faith. Evening proceeds. Father Costas does well. Keeps going. The groups into it. Nice guy. Fun. Look forward to more discussions and goodness. Time passes. We watch movie clips from good Xmas flicks. A little National Lampoons: Christmas Vacation, A little Simon Birch, a little Grinch. The evening closes "officially". Clean up starts. Clean up ends. People leave.

As I leave I ponder upon what people will think as they pull into church sunday morning to see two prominently placed piles of snow that resemble nothing really... except horrible Jabba the Hutt shapeless blobs. I shudder with horror at what may happen if people decide to play with the "snow" as surely they will. I wonder if I have assisted in an atrocity. As I scurried up a tree so many hours ago I had no idea what the evening had in store for me. But as I type at the keyboard here, and realize I really should go to bed cause I'll be getting up soon, I can go to sleep with the feeling that this was a good day. A fun day. And that's pretty good.

I also talked to strangers. One guy said the army can use people who climb trees. I don't know how many trees there are in Afghanistan. It looks like mostly hot desert. I'm a pale skinned, red haired boy who climbs trees on a whim. I think that would take the spontaneous joy out of it. Plus I'm not too into that whole "killing" thing, or sunburns.

Another fellow wondered what the definition of nation is. I said I think there are numerous definitions. I told him to use care when climing the local trees. He asked why. I mentioned my dirty pants. He walked on.

Father Constantine did well in a potentially hostile environment. I told him that if there was a throw down.. I had his back covered. We cut red and green peppers together for the nachos. We had a knife fight. Ok I made that last part up. It was tomatoes.

Some girl said she didn't like it when her hair was kinky. I bit down on a comment. She noticed. She attempted to clarify. I pretended to not understand the clarification. Instead I said "good job on matching your shoes to your top." She said thanks and said something about it. I was distracted. I went to open the door for her. I walked into the door to open it, and swing it out for her. Too bad I picked one that was locked.

I made a schism joke around the Father. Then I asked him if it was really bad form to mention that whole schism between the Roman Catholic church and the Orthodox Church.

I told the C&C's that whoever guessed the pile of snow with a body in it would win a prize. I think they think I'm silly. I challenged them to a knife fight. That probably changed their opinion. Now I have respect. Then I tried to see if I could run and jump and hit a sign hanging from the roof with my head. I missed the one in the hallway.. but got the one in the foyer.

I started doing the hand snappy thing. A guy said "you can do amazing things with your hands". I said "You promised you wouldn't bring that up here at church". He looked confused. Conversations stopped. I laughed. He attempted to clarify. I pretended not to understand his clarification. He laughed. Many laughed. Some were confused.

During the crazy Nativity scene from Simon Birch there's a moment when Joe says "Holy Sh*t". D was concerned about playing the scene. But it's a great scene. So I mentioned that I could develop fish tourettes syndrome and yell out different fish names everytime there was an "innapropriate" word. Like TUNA! or MACKERAL! or SALMON! to cleverly distract and draw attention away from the "innapropriate" word. So as the movie played and the scene occured it was my job to do the whole "cough really loud into your hand while saying TUNA" trick. I think it worked well. Though now people really think I'm silly.

That and the fact I kept trying to find out where the after party was. Apparently there isn't. What kinda young 20's somethings is this? Maybe me and Father C will go cruisin' some other time. He has the pimpinist cassok (robe). All black and shiny. I wonder if he can hook a brother up? Maybe I can get one if I promise not to wear the white collar.....

ok.. getting up in 5.

There's more where this came from if you go to with me.

We go up island on monday to pick up my bro bro. And I get a camera. That's right. Soon I can mesmerize, amaze, and amuse you all with stories, scribbles, and accompanying pictures. Score. Pictures taken by me, on a camera I have consistent access too. Who am I kidding? I really don't care what you think. I just like to blather and record. And it's a good thing I don't care. All of those negative comments I have to keep deleting. For the last time Mom. Stop calling me those things, or sharing those stories on this public space!

Bed now, me go.
Peace you, ya yo.
Ya ya, ya yo.

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