It always takes me a long time to get settled into anywhere new. Those big decisions, I think, always make me feel a little strange and out-of-sorts for the first while. What those sorts are, and how I was in them before, is forever a mystery. But the people of Sparrow Falls seem generally pretty nice compared to city folk, if I can make that generalization, and especially the people here at my church. I haven't really felt like I've settled into a routine before today, but well, I guess you have to do things twice before they're considered a routine, and today is only my second Sunday here in the Falls.
I had a good chat to the Randalls today, and especially Mrs. Randall after the service. It seems her daughter is dating the mechanic I mentioned yesterday. Ah, small world. Or small town, I don't know. Asked what I was doing for the rest of today, I said I was probably going to go home and call Mom and Dad. I asked what she was doing, she said she was going to the Parkers. She had actually been out to several events the past week, she said, and they all asked her to bring chicken pie. She said she was glad more people had asked her to cook that recipe. I said I was glad I could help. She said what.
On another note, next week there is an evening service here at the spire, actually we're holding it outside with candles. An evening of hymns, and some short messages. It sounds good. I think I'm mostly writing this for myself, since everyone else who goes here has known about this longer than I have. I'm reminded how much the church is like family. Actually it is family. I mean, I've been here seven days, and the people here share the same thing that is most important to me. Or I should say the person. You can't get that everywhere you go. Well, I mean not EVERYWHERE you go, although there's churches everywhere. What am I saying. That I feel strangely at home, Mom and Dad, and whoever else you are who are out reading this on the webs of the inter. That home is where God is. That's chicken pie for the soul.
I'm actually pretty hungry now. I think the last time I tried to make chicken pie I got stomachache. Do all oven manufacturers forget to write whether their degrees are in Celsius or Farenheit? I love microwaves. Actually I don't think I've ever undercooked anything in a microwave before. Microwaves are the ovens of the future. Although there was that episode yesterday I forgot to mention where I tried to boil an egg in the microwave. Unrelated, but I keep wet wipes liberally scattered across the house now.
Speaking of which, the future smells like egg.