The Porch at 17th

So, I was supposed to continue my thoughts on butter Jesus (see previous post), but I think I am spent from trying to analyze things too much. In short I think to spend money on such a thing is the worst decision they could have made. And maybe I am being like Judas because the people at that church really feel that this was the best they could give to God, like a small child drawing a picture of her dad, but I feel like there is so much harvest ready to be reaped all over the world. I would hate to think that resources were squandered. Anyways, enough of that.

The last few nights have been perfect weather wise. Warm but not humid. You could smell the grass and the soon to be budding trees. It reminded me of making killer movies at three in the morning in college with the guys, and sitting at the edge of the runway of the airport for like two hours only to have one plane, the smallest plane in the world, fly over our heads. And then to get stopped and interrogated by the cops. It reminds me of bitners, and camp during lane duty, and jumping off the bridge, but most of all...

It reminds me of the porch at 17th street. If I was Josh, I could wax on eloquently about the joys of the porch and the yucky couch and the bottle tree and everything else. I love all of the seasons equally and am always ready for them when they arrive, and they always provide me with nostalgia.

So here's to the porch!