into the story

...  if you stay in theater long enough, you’ll eventually get cast in a part where you have to sing or take off your shirt, and I wasn’t gonna do either of those things in front of people.

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Excel Lent

A year ago I tried to start a new thing at our Wednesday night church service - I suggested that we just say “excel-LENT” and do a fist bump.  It hasn't caught on.

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gotta run

 I remember wondering why adults moved so slowly, and then I became an adult and I lost the run, too.  The run just atrophied away like playing the piano and remembering grocery lists and other things I used to be able to do.

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men of letters

The shop of my childhood was a relic of the mechanical age: oily and unguarded.  Belts, flywheels and blades were fully exposed.  Solvents and cigarettes were held in the same hands. It was a place so obviously dangerous that I can’t remember ever needing to be told to be careful.

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after poking and stabbing at various buttons on the dash with no discernible difference in the cabin temperature, Dad finally pulled to the side of the road, took off his gloves, activated a touch-screen and spent the next few minutes muttering in frustration at the bewildering array of arrows, plus signs, minus signs and icons available. 

changing dollars

Abruptly we pulled to the curb, and Matthew began to talk to a bunch of men sitting in lawn chairs under a tree: robed, Ray-Ban-ed, exaggerated cool.  I was taken aback when Matthew announced that these men would change our money, and it suddenly seemed that the transaction was urgent.