1. I hosted family dinner tonight, so I worked during the day in the kitchen getting things cleaned up and preparing food. Out of the blue, I put on a podcast I'd never heard of, let alone listened to, called Crime Junkie. I, by the way, am not a crime junkie, not by any definition of my own and not by the definition provided by this podcast's host, Ashley Flowers. But, I thought it might be interesting to listen to while I worked in the kitchen and I was right. It had an episode devoted to an awful serial murderer named Israel Keyes. Keyes' crimes had come to my attention several years ago because of a case in Alaska and at least one Alaskan Facebook friend was posting about it and about his suicide in 2012. Listening to this podcast, found here, brought the grisly story back to me. I probably won't return Crime Junkie anytime soon. I think after watching about four episodes of Forensic Files on Saturday and listening to a few of these podcast episodes today, I've encountered enough true crime stories for a while. If you'd like to check out the Crime Junkie webpage and look at the list of episodes and see pictures, interrogation videos, and other material related to each week's subject, just click here.
2. Because a bluegrass group, the Ginstrings, were playing a free concert, sponsored by Radio Brewing, in the Kellogg City Park, we ate family dinner early tonight, around 4:30. During our cocktail time, Christy and Everett enjoyed a gin and tonic, Paul poured himself a glass of red wine, and Carol, much to my delight, dove into my craft beer stash. I suggested she might enjoy trying Block 15's chocolate, raspberry stout, Love Potion #9. She split the 16 oz can with me. If you've ever had one of those not overly sweet but semi-sweet chocolate-y truffles, one that has a touch of bitterness to complement its chocolate flavor and one that also has was made with a hint of raspberry, that's what this beer tasted like. It was just what I like in a chocolate-fruit stout. Later Carol popped open my bottle of Ex Novo's Nevermore barleywine, poured herself a moderate amount and put a stopper in the bottle and returned it to the fridge. I didn't try it -- I drank my stout too slowly -- but I'll give it a taste later on.
Dinner was simple. I made two hamburger steaks buried in mushrooms and onions and I made three or four steaks that combined hamburger and German sausage, also buried in mushrooms and onions. I steamed a head of cauliflower and grilled Romano lettuce on the stove top and seasoned it with Montreal Steak Seasoning and Parmesan cheese.
We all left the kitchen table and retired back to the living room and Paul raised some theological questions about the authority of the ordained and I enjoyed reflecting on this question and others as I understand them within the context of the Episcopal Church of the USA. The Episcopal churches where I have worshiped over the last thirty-five years or so have emphasized the interrogative over the declarative in wrestling with different questions related to a life of faith. Not every Episcopal church is fundamentally interrogative and in the worldwide Anglican Communion, many dioceses invest much more top down authority in the ordained bishops and priests than the dioceses I've been a part of in Oregon, Maryland, Washington, D.C., and Spokane.
It's always fun to discuss these theological and church related questions. These discussions always make me grateful for the experience I had at Whitworth College and the many students and faculty I encountered and talked with whose Christian experience and ways of seeing a life of faith varied greatly (sometimes wildly) from one another.
3. I jumped on my bicycle and pedaled to the Kellogg City Park. Upon arrival, I steered between two of those low to the ground concrete slabs that mark parking spots and my left pedal hit one of them and I went flying off the bike and hit the grass pretty hard. I gathered myself, checked out my bike, and joined Carol and Paul to listen to the Ginstrings play bluegrass music.
My right shoulder absorbed most of the impact of my fall and, as I listened to the music, I started to feel nauseous. I also concluded it would be smart to go back home and start icing the area of impact. So, I only heard the Ginstrings play about two tunes and bade Carol and Paul farewell.
I arrived home, parked my bicycle, and pulled a huge ice pack out of the freezer, got a towel and began icing my shoulder. The nausea subsided and I could feel the shock of the trauma to my right shoulder wearing off. I just wanted to go to bed.
I positioned myself in bed as comfortably as I could, but I couldn't sleep on my right side the way I like to and it took me a while to go to sleep, but I did. I had to, as always, get up two or three times to use the bathroom and it was a struggle to get out of bed, but I figured it out, returned, and went right back to sleep. At about five o'clock, Charly wanted to eat and started whining and I know that once she starts the whining for morning food, she won't stop until she gets her way.
I figured out how to get out of bed, fed her, and got the ice pack back out, went back to bed, and positioned the ice pack so that half of it was icing the front of my shoulder and half of it the back. I fell right back to sleep, woke up about 90 minutes later and returned the ice pack to the freezer to prepare it for my next treatment.
I'm happy to say that I'm having no problems sitting here typing this blog post. In fact, as I sit here typing, I'm in a comfortable sitting position and I don't feel any pain. But, once I get up to do things, my right arm's mobility is limited.
Today, Monday, the furnace man comes to tune up the furnace and later this afternoon Watts will deliver the new washing machine. If, when these parts of my day are finished, my shoulder isn't feeling much better, I'll go have it checked out.
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