Monday Morning Quarterback

Monday Morning Quarterback

Stuff I learned on Sunday.

Spending the morning before worship away from the church makes for a less stressful Sunday overall. Coffee and the New York Times at the farmers’ market > fretting in my office (on a related note, this cover piece from Sunday’s paper is devastating).

Parents and their small children at the farmers’ market work together. Kids are easily engaged in the task. What does this suggest for worship?

My acolyte rules the school. Candle out? Re-light. Out again? Give it more wick. Gently . . . gently . . . masterful.

The worship leader is having a little too much fun with the Passing of the Peace: “Let’s share with each other the peace we deserve!” This kid’s trying to steal my job.

The organist is reading my mind. Before I can finish telling the children that Jesus said when we give in church we shouldn’t “blow a trumpet,” he plays an extended trumpet blast on the organ. How else do you explain that if not telepathy?

The phonetic spelling of the NRSV pew edition is a game changer if you must read Deuteronomy 34 out loud.

Moses and Maria von Trapp are of a kind. Seriously. Think about it (h/t @revsap).

I can drive a college student home after worship and still make it back to the church in time for the annual congregational meeting.

In addition to a knockout sermon, my colleague also produced a parody of “My Favorite Things” for the congregational meeting this week. Um, I, um . . . played scatterball?

Matilda promotes the Myth of Redemptive Violence. As the meany principal Miss Trunchbull gets stoned with lunch stuffs, my six year-old approvingly notes, “She deserves it.”

A blender is a far inferior tool for making hummus than a food processor. Pitching the latter during our recent move was a hasty mistake.

Finger cookies are a thing. Wife and Daughter are a little too good at them for my comfort.

You could do much worse for Sunday dinner than a first grader’s crock pot experiment. Lentils? Check. Carrots? Check. Black beans? Check. Potatoes? Check. Water? Check. 9 different seasonings? Check.

Wife has mad holiday decorating skills. Seriously, if it were up to me, our house’s walls would be bare year-round.

Twitter is a terrible World Series companion, especially when you’re losing. Mass high intensity criticism of minute managerial decisions in real time is not a complement to the experience but a menace.

Game 6 of the World Series will conflict with Beer and Hymns. A potential game 7 will conflict with a session meeting. Fretting, fretting, fretting.

Michael Che told The Perfect Joke on Weekend Update (0:36).


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