This Golden Hum Seemed to Wash Over Me

At different points in the day, ideas about what to write in this space start to show up, and often come from many different places. It's not until I figure out how to get it all down (or some of it, most days) and organize the words into sentences and paragraphs that I can look back and see the trail of bread crumbs. Today's really got started yesterday when I was still half asleep and transferring notes from one place to another on line and, with my usual flare, lost a letter on a hyperlink, rendering the link useless.

My sister dropped me a note to let me know I'd boloed (she was more diplomatic than that) and when I repaired my mistake I found myself back on a page where I could see Adam's observations which were a little creepy (he wasn't; the guy he was describing was).

I was behind someone one day with a bumper sticker about The Rapture and, plodder that I am,. I'm imagining the phone call I'm having with  my car insurance guys if The Rapture happens and the guy disappears out of the car and I hit it during End Times. I guess I'd be praying for the miracle of the vanishing deductible, too.

I have a deal with The Lord, sort of. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about Him and he leaves me alone, so I was surprised about an hour after reading Adam's notes, while power-walking around the track at the Norwich Free Academy to elevate my heart rate (because there's not just not enough excitement in my life) and help me hit that 10K Plus daily number of steps my doctors are such big fans of  (I wish they felt that way about pie, but no), I passed two women, maybe my age and maybe not (I tend to NOT ask those questions of people I don't know) who are part of what I consider the Happy Jesus People (HJP). While looking for that link, I found this one and it even scares me. 

I'm not mocking anyone's beliefs, and truth to tell, if I weren't so full of myself, I'd probably prefer to be one of the folks in that type of church than in the NFA (No Fun Allowed) branch in which I grew up. Not as bad as Eddie Izzard's descriptives, but also not as funny.

As I passed them one of the women was telling the other, perhaps testifying is the better word, about how she was feelin' the faith, a reference I had never heard in almost six decades here on the old orb so I hit google (Those los links! spots stinks) and had too many targets of opportunity.

I'm methodical, but erratic, so while reading through this one, which was (technically the first one to actually reflect all three words I'd originally typed), I dropped in on my Facebook page for a brief vacation and one of the posters there, for reasons without context, noted they were NOT feeling the faith. Maybe coincidental and maybe one of those 'psst, he's taking a nap on the couch! Let's have a world-wide meeting on some facet of religion, but don't say a word to him! On three-one, two and break!' two-minute huddles I don't know about. 

It would explain the chain censer I found on the corner of the coffee table next to the remote (and NO coaster! My wife is so pissed about that!). And at the end of some days, though it's only this one in particular, all I can offer is fine living makes you slow. I leave it to your imagination as to how fine. 
-bill kenny