THE DAY BEFORE THE MEETING

Preparing to call Dan Sheridan on my "dumb phone."
(That's my son Paul and me at the Lincoln Memorial.)
(Click photos to enlarge.)

Yesterday was a day of rest, a day of hanging around, and a day of putting Dan Sheridan on speakerphone so that we could place him, face-up, on the coffee table and conduct a mini Scripture conference together with him, while he was in Chicago and we were here. This, we accomplished. We would rather have flown him out here, but it was the next best thing. We were not about to leave this paradise of continual rain to go to Chicago. As I write, however, the rain has stopped and the sky is once again California blue; we have cancelled the ferry boat service.

Joe and Eddie and I went to Trader Joe’s around 3:00, picking up fixins’ for dinner, and for our wine glasses. Joe bought some exotic-looking beer, while Eddie and I carted several bottles of the famous “Two-Buck Chuck,” which is $1.99 wine bottled by an enterprising gentleman named Charles Shaw (hence, “Chuck.”) squishing grapes on the cheap (how does he do it?) somewhere in the Napa valley.

I have never heard El Pollo Loco; it must be a western thing. According to my best guess, this is Spanish for, “The Crazy Chicken.” This company does what Colonel Sanders does to chickens, except it does it to chickens who are slightly off their rockers. We drove up and ordered 16 pieces of a chicken documented to be certifiably nuts (the meal comes with papers). Most chickens in the world act crazy to get off the hook; not so the chickens at “El Pollo Loco.” The chickens at these farms strive to appear sane. Any chicken at an El Pollo Loco farm acting intelligent or the least bit rational, gets the boot, and is bought by Colonel Sanders, who is said to fry (and now bake) the sanest chickens east of the Colorado River.

Kevin asked Joe, Eddie and me to set up the family Christmas tree while he was away on business for a couple hours. Apparently, Kevin does not like this job very much, so he took advantage of three schmucks who looked smart enough to manage the assembly of a three-piece Christmas tree. It looked too complicated for me, so I suddenly remembered I had my show to record. “Oops,” I said, “I suddenly remembered I have my show to record.” I wished the boys luck, and told them that I would definitely not be available, if they needed help.

After dinner, we all pitched in to decorate the tree, including the Grinch. (Me.)

Eddie admires his handiwork.

Joe places an angel.

Anita looks askance at Joe's angel placement.

Kevin provides the crowning touch

I do what I can.

I’m not really a grinch, not at all. I have great memories of Christmas from when I was a boy, and from when my kids were small, and for all the time after that until families got ripped out from under me. Now, Christmas is bittersweet. I sometimes wish it would just go away. I am therefore concentrating on heralding the Word of God. I would be happy with four meetings a day, or recording four shows a day, or writing a book every day, or just fellowshipping with the saints. If someone wants to make fudge, I am fine with that. I am fine with “a cup of cheer.” I do not like eggnog, but I will try it in my coffee. If any woman wants to kiss me under any mistletoe, I am available.

All I know is: There ain’t no Santa Claus.

But there is a God in heaven, and he is blessing us mightily here in Sacramento, California.

The meeting starts in ninety minutes.

© 2012 by Martin Zender