All from today, Sunday. I work at a church.
Me: We’re getting into the Bible, and the Bible is getting into us!
Intelligent child not getting the subtleties of language making a scene and derailing the conversation with comments akin to: OW! That’s going to hurt! and enacting something akin to being gutted…
Me: Well, the Bible isn’t going to fly into us…like a … *tries not to use militaristic language but fails to come up with anything other than:* BULLET…HAHA…we don’t want the Bible FLYING into us like a …*tries to use an age appropriate word for children in grade 2 but only comes up with:* PROJECTILE… When we read things they go INTO our eyes, and when we hear things they go INTO our ears, and …*manages to avoid talking about eating the Word of God despite knowing that at some point that is good theology* SO WE WANT THE BIBLE TO GET INTO our HEARTS! AND MINDS! *thinks of the aliens from the Simpsons*
Man who makes balloon animals: Ok this thing is for girls! Girls like this. Can you guess what it is?
Me, going with the sexist answer: Shopping?
Visiting mom: Candy? Chocolate?
Me: Oh, I love chocolate!
Man working on balloon: Nope, girls and women like this…
Man: … did you just say control?
(the balloon “animal” was a Cinderella)
(Earlier, with same balloon animal man, who has the ability to completely disarm you and make you open up because of his balloon animal-making hypnosis)
Man: So where are your kids?
Me: Mine? I don’t have any kids. I’m the children’s minister.
Man: Well, you could still have kids… right? Unless, that’s impossible.
Me: *he’s probably not asking me if I’m fertile, no one asks that…what’s happening, is he asking if I’m single?* Oh no I’m married! I could have kids.
Man: Ok I wasn’t sure if as a minister what the deal was with…*motions to church*
Me: Oh, yea! The Anglican church is fine with women priests…being married… we’re cool with … *trailing off as I realize my inclusivity list is getting awkward* ... divorce…d people…
A parishioner is giving green onions grown from her garden to one of her friends, who has now a whole bag full. I come over because I can smell them, and she offers me some which I eagerly take. I then proceed to walk around for twenty minutes with fresh cut green onions, chatting with people, smelling strongly of onions, and occasionally holding them at arms length away from the conversation hoping not to overwhelm folks with my onion smell.