On the Way

There’s something restorative about staying a night in a nice hotel. Jen and I ended up bunking at the Pittsburgh airport hotel as we’d missed our evening flight home (bloody rush hour traffic). We’re catching an early bird out this morning.

When we checked in, I was stressed, exhausted and worried about Poppy. He’d taken a fall and hurt his arm. The wonderful staff at his living group got the hospital x-ray folk to make a house call. How nice!

So, did he break a bone? Does he have a hairline fracture? Unknown at our departure time but I feel a lot better knowing the nurses there are on top of the sitch. I also feel a lot more chilled out after a night in this comfortable, well appointed in-between worlds space. All I could do was read, sip vino and unwind.

Back at our visit – we always have a picnic in Daddy’s room. Jen and I discuss food options with him and then venture out in search of the goods. Since time was tight (shorter than usual) we decided to try to pick up everything in just one area. We’d forgo pastries from our usual joint and get cakes and other dainties from the restaurant which was dishing up the main meal.
Now then, this town has a small-ish downtown area, a big, BIG college neighborhood and beyond that miles and miles of strip malls, big boxitoriums and such. We made the mistake of venturing into Big Box Land and, naturally got lost.

I like getting lost (though prefer doing it when the docket’s a bit more free floating) – wonders and oddities otherwise unseen, are revealed when I’m off course. Like, fer instance, this ‘40 Oldsmobile Hydra-Matic, rolling pastoral hills and this – the Divine Destiny Church.

Rural Western Pennsylvania is riddled with these off-brand, theoretically Christian joints. Often enough they’re in, what appear to be, slapped together concrete block, corrugated sided structures. They're located in far boondockian corners or along the more bleakly run down patches of 22 East. The joints reek of skeevy, low-rent charlatan – the poor, humble version of those diamond studded prosperity grifters (Joel Osteen, Paula White and Joyce Meyer fer instance).

“Lively Worship” – the fuck is that? No, no, don’t tell me – I can imagine. It probably involves speaking in tongues, swooning into the arms of their savior (AKA Jesus orgasms)  and loud, frenetic demands for purity and submission (girl and women-folk only, 'natch).

Our picnic lunch was wonderful as uszh. I am so blindingly grateful to Jen for the ‘terp action. Poppy’s hands just aren’t as loose and smooth with the signing anymore and, now that his teeth seem to be on permanent vaca, I’ve a hell of a time reading his lips. 

*sigh*