The Secret Language of Bings: Year Four
I made it back to Connecticut yesterday. I took advantage of the sunny weather and the hope is that enough of it will last until at least Saturday when I can close out the season with a good chin wag outdoors with my freind, Nancy.
I brought my paint brushes and a nice start on a new project would be icing on the cake. I'm leaning toward either a celebrity portrait or a selfie. Bing has been my biggest booster. Indeed, my Black Lives Matter Jesus would probably not have been undertaken without his enthusiasm over the summer of 2020.
I started packing for Middletown not long after our EfM class met last Tuesday. It was our second attempt to grapple with the idea of theology as a subject of study. I think my main objection to it arises from my training as a lawyer and my experience with trying to nail down definitions of things. You can err on the side of being either too vague or too narrow. A bad lawyer or a lawyer with poor drafting skills often must resort to "boilerplating" in order to make anything of practical use. Boilerplating is basically reciting a law word for word in order to make sure you haven't missed anything. It has very little to do with interpretation or conjecture. Or, imagination. It's all about not eating meat on Fridays. Or, staying kosher.
So, bad lawyer that I am, everything else gives me a headache. No matter how much nomenclature our textbook introduces, it all boils down to the same thing or things: faith and whatever actions we take based on that faith. Okay, where's my certificate?
We had a repeat of the technical difficulties we experienced last week.Thank the Lord, it wasn't me. It was Daisy again. And, again the speculation was that she wasn't quite all there mentally. My sense is that she is using a lousy chromebook on a zoom platform that isn't supported well by it. I had the same problem last summer.
Later, after the meeting closed, I got a call from Bing and we reamed the hell out of class. It was fun. It's clear that it was the sort of thing he and Colette must have done for years when she was in class and they were on their way home together.
In the meantime, the question arose in my mind, where was Crosby and how was he watching the NBA playoffs since Bing and Colette don't have a television?
Moments later, I got a text message from him, lamenting the man-to-man defense being inflicted on the California team. It was the first time he has ever initiated a text message. Either the Bings have a television set, or Crosby read my mind. I don't think he read my mind.
I brought my paint brushes and a nice start on a new project would be icing on the cake. I'm leaning toward either a celebrity portrait or a selfie. Bing has been my biggest booster. Indeed, my Black Lives Matter Jesus would probably not have been undertaken without his enthusiasm over the summer of 2020.
I started packing for Middletown not long after our EfM class met last Tuesday. It was our second attempt to grapple with the idea of theology as a subject of study. I think my main objection to it arises from my training as a lawyer and my experience with trying to nail down definitions of things. You can err on the side of being either too vague or too narrow. A bad lawyer or a lawyer with poor drafting skills often must resort to "boilerplating" in order to make anything of practical use. Boilerplating is basically reciting a law word for word in order to make sure you haven't missed anything. It has very little to do with interpretation or conjecture. Or, imagination. It's all about not eating meat on Fridays. Or, staying kosher.
So, bad lawyer that I am, everything else gives me a headache. No matter how much nomenclature our textbook introduces, it all boils down to the same thing or things: faith and whatever actions we take based on that faith. Okay, where's my certificate?
We had a repeat of the technical difficulties we experienced last week.Thank the Lord, it wasn't me. It was Daisy again. And, again the speculation was that she wasn't quite all there mentally. My sense is that she is using a lousy chromebook on a zoom platform that isn't supported well by it. I had the same problem last summer.
Later, after the meeting closed, I got a call from Bing and we reamed the hell out of class. It was fun. It's clear that it was the sort of thing he and Colette must have done for years when she was in class and they were on their way home together.
In the meantime, the question arose in my mind, where was Crosby and how was he watching the NBA playoffs since Bing and Colette don't have a television?
Moments later, I got a text message from him, lamenting the man-to-man defense being inflicted on the California team. It was the first time he has ever initiated a text message. Either the Bings have a television set, or Crosby read my mind. I don't think he read my mind.