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I spend Wednesday afternoon after Joyce leaves watching The Fugitive (1963 TV series with David Jannsen). I have a book on the series in a box somewhere in the library and I daydream about putting a "G" for Girard on any episode the character appears in.

Ruth arrives home about 30 minutes past due time I had told Joyce and I get that little episode out of the way. Our feeling is that we will continue to be polite but refuse any more $1 requests hoping she'll take the hint. She lives about two blocks away but in a direction I rarely need to travel in so ball is in her court. I plan on never again coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress (or their idea of it) good intentions prolonged led to serious trouble coming up on two years ago and I'm gunshythese post trauma days. Besides I tend to ruin any Christian good works I attempt by my reflections on my own uniqueness and the wonderfulness that is me---fully aware God does not share his glory and pride is an abomination to Him but it is what it is.

Ruth starts homework and box monopolization while I crank out a two parter with Susan Oliver (when I was young only Carol Lynnley was lovelier--who needed Marilyn Monroe--I liked the girl next door beauties. Anyone remember Debbie Watson?? We are both anxiously awaiting the arrival of Jim and Loretta--anytime now--he supposedly left Tennessee that morning. Around 6pm he finally calls.

Still in Ernie Ford country. (Guess which new daughter in law never heard of Ernie Ford and caused two grey hairs to be added to the collection??) Sigh--no sense of geographic cultural heritage. They will be on board Thursday. Leaving around midnight to drive all night and see us in the am.

I knew it. I knew it--he never keeps an itinerary.

Ruth doubts but I assure her we won't see him in the morning and she can go to school, bless the old man with marriage benefits and still be toe tapping before their shadow arrives across the threshold.

I was right too.

Except for deferred benefits. Amazing how one person's blessing can be another person's chore. Must be that eight year age gap in perspective. Sigh. Guaranteed forced retirement until they leave Sunday.

With Ruth going to school I do the payday errands. Credit Union stop to pick up the cash, separate Ruth's portion and go to Cashland down the street for money orders to pay all but one bill for the first of the month. Angie's on board today so I entertain her with the upcoming Custody hearing on Friday news--beloved Rachel is not in but I'm still new to Angie so my welsome hasn't worn off yet and customers are light this early--was around 10:30 am so we talk about five minutes worth. Her third baby will be January. (Might be her fourth come to think of it.) She's only 29 and my loyalty to Rachel slips more with each visit.

With money orders in hand and the Bookery opening at 11 am (I have about $80 I can throw their way) I stop at the library to prepare the bills for mailing and posting in the box at the corner.

The library has four tables up front where I routinely commander one, spread all my envelopes on the table and spend about a half hour playing clear the table into one stack. One table always has audio visual equipment on it so it's virtually useless for the public and the other two are occupied on both sides by teens that must be truant or home schooled and my monies on the first option. The remainder has a young lady who looks like she's about to get up or sit down--not sure which. I decide I can stay on my side of the table if she stays on hers.

Not knowing I'm about to be asked a question NO LADY has ever asked me before IN MY LIFE!!

Spoiler warning: The drama queen is teasing you now--the question is not even close to what Virgil and Meg are thinking right now.

Right off the bat I size her up. She makes eye contact which is a huge point in her favor. Even better completely does not react to my lack of good looks. She has short brown hair and glasses and looks like Marcia Strassman from Welcome Back Kotter. Her smile is to die for and upon her shapely bosom is the final bemusing touch. A name tag identifying her as a missionary for the Church of Latter Day Saints. All mystery is solved. The warmth--the in your dreams imagined come hither look. The very nicest in all my years of church visits BAR NONE the Mormon churches have the friendliest reception of visitors. You can actually believe they really care about you as a single entity and you are gold amongst the dross.

I had originally slapped my bills down the table with an air of grabbing my territory in the thought she might go away but the smile and name tag brought a belated courtesy out of me. Was slightly surprised at her being alone and wondered where her guardians were. They usually travel in pairs and kill you with honey. I asked if she minded my use of space. I will give her this--her eyes never left mine and I kept mine reasonably where they belonged--that darn name tag. Ruth has had to endure many a joke over her Meijers name tag.

The young disciple of Mr. Smith makes room for the envelopes I was laying out and matching up the money orders to and she asks the question that was to amuse and delight me and make the next ten minutes highly entertaining.

"Would you like to (Satan speed dials some imagined possibilities into the brain cells) have me put your stamps on your envelopes for you?"

As God is my witness the lecherous part of me gave way to the totally father/daughter love -- I almost laughed uproariously at her attempt to gain a hearer for what I knew was coming -- better that then get insulted that she thought I was that helpless. What a delightful evangelist and clever to boot at finding a way to draw me out.

My approach to the Mormon faith is based on the fact that they shame the Christian churches with their zeal for good works and evangelism. They receive a lot of abuse and take it stride. They can teach lessons in turning the other cheek and should be respected for that at least.

I decide to see where the Lord Christ fit into her belief system. Also I had been eying the name tag long enough to be slapped so I used it to springboard me out of the gutter and on to more serious stuff. I asked if she was Mormon (just to be sure I wasn't mixing her up with the Seventh Day Adventists) and she assured me she was and had been in the area for just a short time from Utah. We discuss the hot weather, seque to the upcoming winter and I give her an idea what that will be like presuming she's on the one year tour plan--haven't read their literature in ages. No need to I'm set in my belief system and stubborn to boot.

I deliberately did not ask about Donnie and Marie or even the King Family (Xan was the favorite there from that old variety show on TV). I did not want to patronize her beliefs -- which I can be quite good at -- I excell at grumpy Baptist Pharisseeism when the mood strikes--not that God is pleased but we are ever aware of the personal sin nature.

I ask her if the Book of Revelation is the end of the testimony of God regarding the Savior Jesus Christ (inserting that He died for sins and rose from the grave--I don't want this flower of Sharon's soul on my conscience) why the need of another prophet? God is not in the habit of giving His glory to another. She deftly replies that as the Bible has stories of New and Old Testament saints this is ANOTHER story of a prophet. Shades of the TV ad campaign. She pulls a verse from Deuteronmy out to make her point. She has high ground now--I'm way out of practice on the Books of Moses.

Her watchdogs finally appear and I'm the center of attention and firm handshakes. Her's had been warm and sincere--the guardians practiced and routine. I assure them (smiling all along) that I'm safe and we are having a nice chat and she backs me up. Her lady friend relaxes just a small bit but keeps an eye on me. I ignore her name tag but check the men for the expected "Elder" title--yep there it is- a full fledged missionary team breaking in the new girl. The young lady (her name escapes me--I know we exchanged them but I quickly let her's loose from the memory cells) asked me if I had ever read the Book of Mormon and I truthfully told her I had not. She gives me a card to send for one--losing points there -- in the good old days they would have had one ready to hand over with name and phone number handy. Ah mispent youth and happy chasing religious girls times.

But they do also give me an Articles of Faith card and my jaws salvitate.

Digestable bad doctrine to be debunked at last. But again out of practice.

I begin to read the articles and comment as I go pointing out what I do and NOT accept as valid based hopefully on the Word of God and not my twisted leanings. Was somewhat startled that there was much to be accepted (and more to be deplored)--Article 10 for instance--New America indeed.

The meeting breaks up with no further attempt to draw me in. Was disappointed an invite to the nearest temple was not in order. On the other hand I suspect they figured out I have opinions and a mind made up.

She was a charmer though no Logos. Must look up her avatar soon and get the blog batteries recharged.

As usual we rambled on so this is Pt 2, Sub A--Will finish up the next entry with the unexpected DVD find and the arrival of the kids and Mari Grace's intro to the grand-father and his repertoire of songs.