* Racism is alive and well in America. I witnessed it first hand this weekend as I hiked down the mountain that I had camped on the night before. A couple were standing on the side of the trail with two large dogs, the canines seeming very docile and well behaved as several hikers passed (that is, several white hikers). Then an elderly asian couple attempted to pass and the dogs went nuts! Had they not been leashed those dogs would have torn this asian lady apart. It was sad to see, but amazing to see just how agile an elderly woman can be when frightened out of her wits! She jumped up on some boulders with such ease that would have put me to shame had I attempted the feat. Racist dogs. I think the owners need to sit their dogs in front of the t.v. and watch "Albie the Racist Dragon." They could learn a thing or two.
* While hiking down the mountain, one of the boy scouts stopped on the trail and pleaded with me, "Brother Hall, I've got to go to the bathroom!" (Brother is a title people use in the church I attend, the equivalent of Mr.). Thinking that he simply has to go number one, I reply: "Well, go off of the trail a ways to a place where no one can see you and do your business." A few other boys and I are waiting on the trail when one of the boys tells me, "Brother Hall, he doesn't have any toilet paper." A short time later, after receiving some toilet paper, I hear a voice in the near distance shout excitedly, "I did it!" I couldn't help but laugh as it sounded like a little kid being potty trained. But it doesn't end there. O, no. A few seconds later I see the kid running back toward the trail holding up a zip-lock bag. Fear and shame shot throughout my being. O, no he didn't! I was relieved, in part, to learn that he did not crap in a bag, but disgusted to find that he did put his used toilet paper in it (uhm, you go ahead and bury that). And the final absurdity. . . the boy begins asking, "who has room in their pack to carry this out?" Nope, no crap coming down the mountain in my pack!
* So, the other day I come home from work to see a hole in my dinning room wall. That is odd, I thought. I know that it would not take much for my flatmate to put a hole in the wall if he really wanted to, but as strapping as he is, he isn't the type to become violent (unless, of course, you are trying to kill him). It turns out that some construction workers who are replacing termite infested wood beams in the complex, punctured my wall. Nice. At least it is high up. . . it would be weird to have people looking through a hole in the wall at me eating my dinner.
* My students are doing "creative writing" exercises for their warm-ups and it didn't take long for them to make me one of their comical characters. It is fun to know that my students have such vibrant imaginations.