Our church held a potluck this afternoon to celebrate Dr. Evanson's visit.
I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I love potlucks. Especially potlucks where people bring freshly baked bread, homemade noodles, artery-clogging rice casserole, and mustard greens. Mustard greens. Life is good.
The best thing about potlucks is that the food is brought in and our church family can enjoy lunch together without actually needing to use the church kitchen. Anyone who has seen our church kitchen will understand why this is a good thing. I don't even want to describe it because, well, it's scary down there.
There are, however, degrees of scary.
Loose plaster and cobwebbed pipes are one thing. Bats are another.
One of our friendly little church bats decided to pay the kitchen a visit and he ended up hanging out in the kitchen sink. He wasn't there for long. After entirely too many people had crammed into the kitchen to get a glimpse of the bat, my father came and "dealt with it."
There were some feigned tears and squealing on the part of the little girls who felt so sorry for the poor helpless little thing. "It's so cuuuuuuuuuuuute! Awwww Look at it! It's breeeeeeathing! Can it fly?!"
There were some relieved sighs on the part of the women. "I don't even want to think about it. Those things get in your hair. That's not something anyone wants to deal with. I'll be standing over here, out of the way. Let me know when it's safe to move."
Then there were the weirdos like my brothers and me. "Awesome! No, let me get a closer look. Gross. But cool! Eine Fledermaus-- right Sis? Look at the claws. I wonder if it was hibernating in here? Andrew, get back. It's rabid. You can see it in its eyes.*"
I suppose it's too late now to tell my dad that he "dealt with" an endangered animal.
*Sorry. Absurd family joke, involving a raccoon. Also scary.