My Dad's school's fire alarm went off four times the week before Christmas. The fourth time, the janitor went up on the roof and inspected things, and found that a sensor in the ducts was malfunctioning and setting off the alarms. The kids were gathered in the gym after the drill to explain what was happening. When they went to music class, my dad asked them what had happened.
"A flock of censored ducks landed on the roof and set off the alarm."
In the children's Bible study, they were studying the second great commandment, "Love your neighbor as yourself". This child asked her teacher, "Does that mean we have to love Satan too?"
The two thoughts coming to my mind (I've been reading Lewis all day) are, does God love Satan, and did he weep for him when he fell?
My parents still own the house I grew up in, and have it rented out. When my stuff made the move from Southern California (not to be confused with the stuff that hasn't moved from Waco, Texas) it ended up there instead of at their new house. So before I go back on tour I had a list of things to go find. Namely my "Mutual Funds for Dummies" book, and the suits I'm shipping to my sister for her round of job interviews. So I found myself parking in front of the house -- no one was home, walking around the side yard, and breaking into what used to be my Dad's drum studio with a butter knife. It's a trick I learned when I was, I don't know, 10. Maybe 12. And I'm not sure why I'd even want to break in there -- maybe I learned that when it was still his shop. And I'd break in to steal tools to build chairs with one leg too short for the tree house. Funny story about that chair, by the way. My sister was trying to reach something, and didn't notice that the short leg was off the edge of the deck. Of course the chair tilted, and she fell, hitting her head on the tree branch that our rope swing was tied to on the way down. Which was good, because she got knocked out and didn't feel it when she landed on a shovel.
So if tomorrow I'm blogging from jail, you'll know why. My boot prints through the snow should make it pretty darn clear that SOMEBODY was in their back yard. It wouldn't take Lord Peter to figure it out.
