{"id":21,"date":"2006-10-08T21:12:00","date_gmt":"2006-10-08T21:12:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/2006\/10\/08\/18\/"},"modified":"2006-10-08T21:12:00","modified_gmt":"2006-10-08T21:12:00","slug":"18","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/2006\/10\/08\/18\/","title":{"rendered":"8-Oct-2006"},"content":{"rendered":"

Twice a year the Boy’s Brigade <\/a> group at church goes on a campout at Camp Hickory Hill <\/a> with the groups from other churches. In the fall the have the father-son campout, which occurred this weekend. They took one car with them to camp Friday afternoon, leaving one car for the rest of us. I had to get to work, and my sister had to get to youth group. As we’ve done on previous such occasions to handle the lack of cars, my dad dropped me off at work in the morning. The plan from before was for me to IM my mom when I wanted to get picked up, so long as it was before she went to bed at midnight. In order to save her the trouble, I thought I’d try to get a ride from someone else. Last Thursday at small group Ruth asked me if I could give her a ride home the next day after IV, since she was planning to carpool in. This week I thought I’d ask her for a ride. I didn’t know what her car situation would be, but there seemed to be two options. If she had a car, she’d probably be willing to drive me home. If she didn’t have one, and needed a ride herself, she could come with my mom and I, since she lives pretty much on the way home for us. <\/p>\n

Most of our small group this Thursday went to Buffalo Wild Wings afterward, so I asked her while we were there, and she agreed. After IV Friday we were invited to go to Keith’s apartment to play board games and such. (She replied, “Of course, Tim would have to come along too,” and then apologized for treating me like a piece of baggage that had to be driven around. ) We soon went out to her car, but found that it refused to start. The lights worked and it cranked fine, but didn’t start. She thus presumed it to be the starter, not the battery, since it had had trouble previously. After several tries, we managed to get ahold of Keith, who had already headed back to his apartment. He and his brother Mark, who was driving, came and picked us up. We hung around 276-1 for a while, drinking hot chocolate and talking (or in my case, listening). After 11:30 or so I remembered my thoughts about transportation plans. With Ruth’s car out of commission for the moment, I suggested my previously-unarticulated plan B. So, I grabbed my computer shortly before midnight and summoned my mom, who arrived around 12:30. We drove back to the parking lot to try once more to start the car, and then leave a note lest Campus Safety get annoyed at its overnight stay. Then we headed home, taking a short detour to deliver Ruth. <\/p>\n

I realized shortly after we got in the car that she’d surely notice that my mom is as quiet as I am (or more). We drove in silence, save for the King’s Brass <\/a> CD my mom had playing. Ruth commented once in a while, but elicited little conversation, as usually happens with me and, by extension, Mom. After dropping her off, I moved up front. We talked a bit for the rest of the ride home, she telling me various things that had happened or were interesting. I thought about the contrast. We talk somewhat when we’re alone, but not around less-familiar people (to her, at least). Of course, that’s nothing new. On a related note, I’ve noticed how when my mom is accosted by random people, for instance, at church, she talks quieter and in a higher voice than with more familiar people. I suppose I do similar things when I have to talk to people. Such is the life of an extreme introvert. Anyway, we got back around 1. I’m thankful she’s willing to go out of her way like that so I can have fun. (She did profess to being tired the following afternoon.) <\/p>\n

[Ed. note: Hooray, only five parentheticals in three paragraphs. Perhaps I’m getting somewhere… ] <\/span> <\/p>\n

[Ed. note again: I realize editors’ notes are usually made by, well, editors, commenting on someone else’s work, but it seemed appropriate for my stories given that part of me is telling the story while another part is commenting on my strange style. <\/span> ] <\/span> <\/p>\n


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Twice a year the Boy’s Brigade group at church goes on a campout at Camp Hickory Hill with the groups from other churches. In the fall the have the father-son campout, which occurred this weekend. They took one car with … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-xanga"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timpeterson.org\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}