FARM PLATES
On this cold rainy Sunday it seems a good time to pull the history train into the station and address the congregation. And, let me just say i agree with a congregant who writes: "No comments? If you had any readers there should be a few..." Where are those folks who used to love to argue amongst each other, regarding my lack of literary skill? Do I have to turn on the Mr. Anonymous button? Come on people. Am I boring you? Too self serving? Too self effacing? Dozing off with my personal history high (low) points? Or is it that I'm just so good at what I do, you read it and and smile to yourself feeling there's nothing you can add? That should get you to hit the buttton.
Recently I've been spending quite a bit of time working on the church. The windows are almost all in. The floor is being patched. On Friday i put the sill in the front door. With the addition of my paintings and objects, the space is transforming into a kind of artsy chapel. A stuffed coyote with a voodoo doll dangling two of my braids between his teeth, leaps from the altar in front of four large colorful collages. The pews are set in their original spots, (discovered when I washed the floor). Ray Gilkey's organ has been polished and plugged in. I'm going to get a sign for out by the road. THE CHURCH OF THE LITTLE GREEN MAN- Baptisms, wedding and funerals. Full cradle to grave service. Book now.
Good neighbor John (not gay neighbor John) drove his truck up the other day to show off the ultimate in rural living status symbol- Farm license plates. As everyone knows i live for these kind of things. I adopted two roads in order to see those signs everyday as i drive by, read the Boy Scout Handbook cover to cover in order to get my hunting guide's license and spent a year in seminary just so i could hang that sheep skin on the wall of my church. I was jealous. GNJ knew this and gloated as his new plates sparkled in the sun. Cheapo insurance, a dollar a year in registration fees and the beautiful simplicity of FARM on the bottom of the plate. Who wouldn't want a set of these?
I've got some asparagus coming up (all that's left of Mrs. Yummy's garden), and Paris and Nicole could count as livestock. The front lawn is more hay than grass, and after my 9000 mile trip the Neon is sounding more like a tractor everyday. So what if I only own an acre of land? If the church can be art why can't this place be considered a farm? GNJ said they didn't even ask how much land he had. Monday I'm going to step in some cat shit, put Ray Gilkey's hat on, put some asparagus in my pocket and go to DMV. Jealous yet?
Recently I've been spending quite a bit of time working on the church. The windows are almost all in. The floor is being patched. On Friday i put the sill in the front door. With the addition of my paintings and objects, the space is transforming into a kind of artsy chapel. A stuffed coyote with a voodoo doll dangling two of my braids between his teeth, leaps from the altar in front of four large colorful collages. The pews are set in their original spots, (discovered when I washed the floor). Ray Gilkey's organ has been polished and plugged in. I'm going to get a sign for out by the road. THE CHURCH OF THE LITTLE GREEN MAN- Baptisms, wedding and funerals. Full cradle to grave service. Book now.
Good neighbor John (not gay neighbor John) drove his truck up the other day to show off the ultimate in rural living status symbol- Farm license plates. As everyone knows i live for these kind of things. I adopted two roads in order to see those signs everyday as i drive by, read the Boy Scout Handbook cover to cover in order to get my hunting guide's license and spent a year in seminary just so i could hang that sheep skin on the wall of my church. I was jealous. GNJ knew this and gloated as his new plates sparkled in the sun. Cheapo insurance, a dollar a year in registration fees and the beautiful simplicity of FARM on the bottom of the plate. Who wouldn't want a set of these?
I've got some asparagus coming up (all that's left of Mrs. Yummy's garden), and Paris and Nicole could count as livestock. The front lawn is more hay than grass, and after my 9000 mile trip the Neon is sounding more like a tractor everyday. So what if I only own an acre of land? If the church can be art why can't this place be considered a farm? GNJ said they didn't even ask how much land he had. Monday I'm going to step in some cat shit, put Ray Gilkey's hat on, put some asparagus in my pocket and go to DMV. Jealous yet?
posted by mike osterhout at 9:48 AM
2 Comments:
i offer you a
disciple for your church.
yours,
burnt
ps
when will you be anointing me with
a term of endearment by way of an acronym?
If it is ANY consolation I personally look forward to reading this stuff everyday--and why does it irritate me when you are late posting something (cuz you usually do around the same time everyday)? I mean I even signed on to this whole blog thing so I could leave you a comment----does that make me a disciple?
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