sweating

Hot Chicken on a Friday Night in Franklin

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I had another first tonight.

I ate my very first hot chicken. Technically, it was medium hot and it was listed as “crybaby,” but I’ve discovered that was as hot as I want to go. I was sweating and dabbing myself with a napkin and saying things like, “Lawd, have mercy.” I felt like Madea in one of those Tyler Perry movies.

FYI: They have four levels of hot chicken, with the hottest requiring a signed waiver before you eat it. I kid you not. As the famous philosopher Paris Hilton said, “That’s hot.”

I somehow managed to get diverted on my walk back to Five Points on Main Street. I ended up walking through an area that was a little sketchier than I normally like, but I kept walking until I saw something familiar– good ol’ 11th Ave N.

From there, I was good. Maybe there’s a life lesson in that? I’ll leave it for you to decide.

I worked my way over to Fair Street, my favorite place to walk in all of Franklin, and even looked for the friendly cat that I saw a few weeks back. Alas, he wasn’t there.

I spent time in the dark in my favorite church building– St. Paul’s. After all that hot chicken and all that walking and sweating, it was probably best that I was alone.

I got my iced beverage from Frothy Monkey– I wanted pumpkin spice or something else fall-ish, but I settled for hazelnut. Still, I had my Harper Lee book, so it was all good.

If I ever win the lottery (or some rich distant relative leaves all his dough to me), I’d love nothing better than to live in one of the old houses either on Main Street or one of the nearby roads. I’d be super-trendy in my red Mini-Cooper with my Mac Book Pro and my downtown Franklin cottage. Someone should definitely make that happen.

But for now, I’ll just continue to live in the moment and count my blessings and give thanks for another day to be alive and celebrate the God who always knows how to give the best gifts to His children.

 

 

28 Days (Not That I’m Counting or Anything)

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What happens in 28 days?

Relax. There will (hopefully) be no outbreak of zombies.

There will however be an outbreak of autumn, my very favorite season.

There will be pumpkin spice everything, bonfires, hayrides, s’mores, flannel, crisp mornings, leaves changing colors, and a million memories that fall always conjures up for me.

There will be no humidity, no excessive sweating, no bugs, and no sunburns.

Fall means Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Advent (which leads into my all-time favorite holiday, Christmas).

Fall reminds me of the words Jesus said, of how unless a seed falls into the ground and dies, it will remain only a single seed. But if it dies, it will bear much fruit. Autumn symbolizes the season where so much is happening that you can’t see, but you know that a great harvest is coming.

So many of my favorite movies are set at least partially in the fall. There’s the iconic scene of Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan walking through Central Park surrounded by a riot of colors from the leaves changing colors.

Fall seems more quiet than the other seasons, more conducive to reflecting and remembering. Maybe that’s the reason I like it. Or maybe it’s one of the plethora of reasons I like it.

I will have my pumpkin spice latte with my pumpkin spice scone and sit somewhere with a patio where I can people-watch. I will wear every flannel shirt I own at least once. I will give thanks that for every fall and winter and death, there comes a spring and a summer and new life.

I will keep typing until I get in my 300 words for the day because I am a bit OCD like that. Still not there, so still typing. Only eleven more words to go. Now only five more to go.

BOOM. Made it.

 

 

My Favorite Walks

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In The Hobbit, there’s a passage that references a map that contains all of Bilbo Baggin’s favorite walking trails. I think I’ve found mine.

There’s a street that runs parallel to West Main Street that I’ve discovered that lends itself to walking and thinking. There’s not a lot of traffic on this road so it’s fairly peaceful.

All the houses on this street have been around a while and every once in a while I’ll run across some kids playing in a back yard or some friendly neighbors who will wave as I pass by. Once I even encountered a chatty grey cat who pegged me for being a cat person and ambled up to me for a bit of petting and conversation.

If I had loads of money, I’d like to live on this street. There is a house for sale that dates back to 1900. There’s another house that recently hit the market that I’d be sorely disappointed if there weren’t a ghost story or two to go with its fabled history.

I prefer walking when it’s not swelteringly hot. It’s hard to achieve tranquility when you’re sweating like a turkey that’s about to be Thanksgiving dinner. Or a pig that’s about to be in a BLT.

I’ve never been one to hear God speaking to me audibly, but I’ve found that God often speaks to me during one of my walks. Plus, I do need the exercise.

The Gospels record many instances of Jesus and the disciples doing a lot of walking. Back then, that was the main way to get from Point A to Point B. You walked.

I imagine that most of the memories the disciples carried with them of Jesus were the ones of the conversations they had while en route from one town to another. That’s how Jesus often speaks to us today. Generally not in those special moments but in the grind of daily life while we’re headed from one place to another.

So often in the walk of faith, the journey is just as important as the destination and the lessons we learn most are the ones we learn along the way.

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Generic Blog #1,814

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / 2 Comments

franklincat

I couldn’t really think of a clever title, so I went with what you see above. Not my finest moment ever, but it’s better than having an Untitled Blog.

I made my usual trek to downtown Franklin. I visited all my usual haunts– McCreary’s Irish Pub, The Frothy Monkey, St. Paul’s Episcopal Church (or as I like to refer to them, the perfect trifecta).

I deviated a bit from the usual routine. I decided to explore the street that has my favorite house in the world, Fair Street. I stopped over at the garden area of St. Paul’s and took a picture of their St. Francis statue. I don’t know why I like his statues so much. Maybe it’s that I too am a fan of all creatures great and small.

It was a bit like that scene from the movie Forrest Gump, only instead of running I was walking (although in the thick Middle Tennessee humidity I probably sweated the same amount).

I walked up to the end of Fair Street, cut over on 11th Avenue South, and continued up West Main Street all the way to Big Shakes Chicken and Fish. I don’t know how far that is in terms of mileage, but it felt like at least a mile and a half, maybe two.

I met a friendly grey cat who was very social and liked very much to be petted. For a brief moment, I considered abducting said cat and bringing him (or her) home. I’m sure the owner(s) would not have been pleased.

I saw several houses where I could be very comfortable (including one fixer-upper opportunity that would probably require someone more handy than me). I sweated a lot.

I met a few people actually out in their yards or sitting on their front porches. I waved and they waved back. We exchanged pleasantries. It was so Mayberry.

I think I’m over any desire to live in a big fancy house with all the amenities. I’d be very happy in a small cottage with a front porch and a small yard. And maybe a statue of St. Francis in there somewhere.

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It’s Summer Solstice Again

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“It must have been the summer solstice
When I first gave my heart to You
The first day of a brand new season
In a fevered passion for Your simple truth
It was the longest I’d ever felt for anything
And it gave my soul a song to sing . . . .

And with the spring comes the thaw
Melting my heart reviving all
It comes full circle and then
It’s summer solstice again

So can You throw Your arms around me and walk me home
I’ve wandered off way too far for way too long
And standing broken in this wilderness of shame
I have found my only strength is in your name
Oh, Father please can You undo what I’ve done
And get me back to square one

Back to the summer solstice

Take me back

I wanna go back” (Wayne Kirkpatrick, recorded by Susan Ashton).

Yes, it is summer solstice again. It’s officially the longest day of the year in terms of having the most daylight.

This one was hot. As in even standing in the shade, I was still sweating like the pig that knows he’s about to be bacon.

It felt like I was standing in front of an oven, only there was no aroma of anything baking, except maybe me.

Summer always makes me nostalgic for days I can never get back. It makes me miss people I will never see again in this lifetime.

I’m thinking about all those Johnson family reunions we used to have where all the cousins would make the drive down to Christiana, Tennessee and bring buckets of fried chicken (along with a multitude of casseroles and other foods) and tell stories of yesteryear. I miss those.

It’s easy to want to look back when you can’t really see what’s ahead, to long for the past when the future seems uncertain and scary.

That’s where a lot of us are right now. We’re holding on to what we know, what we can feel with our hands and see with our eyes and make sense of with our minds. We cling to the tangible, even if it’s what’s holding us back from becoming what God destined us to become.

Maybe faith is letting go of  those things and reaching out into the unknown with only the assurance that God will be there.

I love what G. K. Chesterton said: “Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.”

So here’s to hope, which is possibly the best thing going right now.

Hope is a good thing.

 

 

 

 

What I Had For Lunch

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I see all these posts about food on Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook, and Twitter, so I thought I’d share what I had for lunch today. It was rather yummy.

My workday ended at noon so I made an impromptu decision to try out a new place that a friend of mine recommended. I went to Taqueria del Sol on 12th Ave South. I had a Memphis BBQ Taco with spicy jalapeno coleslaw that was delish (as all the hip kids nowadays say it). I also had a Peruvian Steak Taco, which was as divine as a taco gets this side of heaven.

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After, I walked over to Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream for some — wait for it– splendid ice cream. I had something called The Buckeye State, which consisted of salted peanut butter (in honor of Lebron James going back to Cleveland) and a flavor called goat cheese with red cherries (which tasted uncannily like cheesecake).

I forgot to mention I had to walk a country mile to get to these places because parking is horrendous in that part of Nashville. It was also hot and I sweated profusely.

But it was worth it. The only thing to make it better would have been friends to share the experience with [cue sad trombone sound]. But maybe next time one or more of you can come with me.

Life is too short not to be spontaneous and try new things. Sure, some of those will not turn out great, but the ones that do will more than make up for the ones that do.

Now, what ever will I do for an encore on Saturday?