This morning we went again to the Unitarian Universalist church over in Carrollton. We had become relatively inattentive about church, because the U/U church in Plano just didn't have that feel about it. I don't know what "that feel" is, because the minister at Plano, whom we'd met once before we moved here, and the people at Plano all seemed nice enough. But this Carrollton church caught us up a bit more. Within moments of the beginning of last week's 9:15 service, though, I thought to myself, "okay, this is our church, we're home". After the service, my wife said it came to her in just the same way. I don't know what inner voodoo (or, hopefully grace) helps us make these choices, but I am comforted, somehow, to know that we will join this church in the near future. I'm not a big joiner nor a big "fellowshipper" (would somebody PLEASE get them to stop having people hold hands for the benediction? The one sure way to guarantee I do not become comfortable with strangers is to make me hold their hands), but this church pretty much hit the spot--that mix of camaraderie and spiritual stuff and intellectual open-ness that is what makes people like us attend U/U services.
After church, we hit a little Chinese buffet with which my wife had become familiar during a temp gig she did at JC Penney's corporate office soon after we returned to Texas. The place was very nice, and had an odd Muzak which sounded like a cross between Mantovani and the Beijing People's Traditional Orchestra. This sounds very unappealing, but it was very appealing. Campy but soothing music sets a certain tone. Indeed, any music sets a tone. Friday, I went to an office building whose lobby was having a promotional for a children's book company with some name like
Dorking Kindling Leaves. The books looked fairly pedestrian--and I like children's books--but the boom box playing some kinda 3.99 "Classics du Jour, Toujours" CD gave the whole thing, well, what we'll call a tone. Don't worry too much about content--just soundtrack my day!
As I discovered salvation in church, one would imagine that I would spend the afternoon saving herons from habitat destruction or feeding the homeless. Sadly, I merely watched the Dallas Cowboys on football. Shall I admit that I jumped up, with my hands pointed in the air, when Dallas kicked the winning field goal with one second left? I suppose I just have. That's probably okay, and much more creditable than being extremely gratified that Steve Spurrier has gotten wallopped twice and seems to be on his way to a season of wallops. Why does it bug me that a coach gloated during his SEC days, such that I enjoy seeing his subsequent team laid low? I don't know. I'm too petty to be saved.
I now have half an afternoon and an evening left to exercise, do needful hobby things, and meditate upon my manifold sins and wickedness, though, so I hope nothing else good is on TV.