castles made of sand

(one of those sappy reflective posts)

As the CEO of the universe gives my family requested fruit for our past endeavors, and as the poverty culture I’ve grown to know and love slowly slips through my fingers, I ponder my calling and future.

I’m sure I’ll be an undercover agent to some degree for the rest of my life. But it’s clear that any remnants in my life of the old izzy group ministry are long gone. Hanging with the homeless and working-poor from within a social ministry apparatus was invaluable training none the less. But fumbling around in disguise as a manual laborer is my deal these days.

Surprise attack. Killed me in my sleep.

I’m loving it. But there’s little time to be with the disability check receiving folks of society. So it goes.

My new work schedule is killer. And my daily cohorts are enjoyable. Chuckie even gave me an unexpected Christmas present: a best-of Jimi Hendrix CD. That is the most incredible thing ever. I am listening to the Star Spangled Banner as I write this. We take cigar breaks twice a day, which I often enjoy my ever favorite Nat Sherman cigarillos.

As a child I promised myself that I would never become a tobacco fiend. But something about manually busting your ass and being part of a step by step metamorphosis makes you enjoy if not expect good reflective cigar smoking.

And as mentioned earlier, Agent Wife and I have begun the process of putting in our request for assignment change. It could be a long wait, assuming it ever happens.

But I assume it will.

So long 2008. You melted into the sea. Eventually.