Party @ Church

The church I've been going to the past year and a half or so, they've bought what was once a furniture store as their next address. And they had a party there this evening.



It appears the demolition phase of the renovation is about done and they're about to start building stuff. It's a vast building, originally built as a Wal-Mart.



It was supposed to be an outdoor affair. And we've had indecently good weather lately. I wouldn't be looking for a way I can move to Portland or Seattle someday if we normally got such fine weather more often. The weather in the Midwest goes all over the place but rarely settles anyplace a well adjusted human would want to be for more than five minutes.



So anyway, it starts raining right when the shindig is supposed to start. So the tables were carted indoors. The band equipment, too, and the next thing you know, it's as if the original plan was to do the whole thing indoors.



Which gave me the chance to push the low-light shooting limits of my camera. It's not really a camera that's equal to the task, but I can't stop trying. Any more than I can stop coveting the Nikon D90 coming out: a slick dSLR with HD video capabilities. If I could even fake having the means, I'd buy one the day they come out.



I even caved and used the flash a couple times. I hate flash photos, detest them almost as much as homeowners associations, socialism and late-merging drivers.



I'm impressed Pastor Dan addressed me by name. It's not the first time, but this is a large church. A church so large it's outgrown a larger-than-average building as churches go and has had to find a big box retail building to fix that problem. I'm a guy who has never before been to an event outside of the regular Sunday service, who can't even honestly describe himself as Christian. When he sermonizes, he has an engaging and thought provoking way about him. Apparently he tops that off with a powerful memory for names and faces.



The food was good, too. Mass quantities of brisket were consumed (hundreds of pounds of smoked meat on hand, a good thing since Mo did away with the better part of a pound of meat all by herself). And there was Culver's custard after that. Worth the brain freeze, really it was. I don't know why I can't avoid those, but I can't. It literally happens every time I eat any sort of ice cream and I hate it.



By the time we had our custard, Mr. Stinky Feet was performing. My honyocks adore him. It's like with McDonald's: it's repulsive in its way but the younger you are, the harder you fall for it. And hats off, the guy has done a great job of marketing himself. You just about can't go to a family/kid-oriented event without finding Jim Cosgrove.





But it was approaching Eight O'Clock. On a school night. And owing to my booze-addled nap in front of infomercials the night before, I wasn't firing on all two cylinders anyway.