This morning at the coffee shop a heavy man in a black convertible Miata asked me to help him measure a house for drywall. After about ten seconds of calculating the risks, I figured the thought of getting beaten, kidnapped or robbed was better than boredom so after a discreet minute I agreed. He didn't seem to have a grasp of how to methodicly approach the job and after the first two rooms I took over the measuring and the little blueprint he was making. Afterwards he invited me to attend some sort of alcohol drug meeting he was about to attend. This sounded like fun but I'm not trying to make too many new friends. Making one with an acknowledged drug problem was not on my list. He said he had been a bartender at Phoenix Hill Tavern in Louisville about 18 years ago. In the evening I went to the House of God #2. The Pastor is a woman. I'd never spoken to her husband before tonight. He was a Washington Redskins player back in the 70's. Seemed like a cool guy and even asked me if I wanted to go home before the (very long) service was over. I did. I spent most of the time holding this girl's baby. I learned a long time ago that is a good way from having to pray with people, get resaved, clap, dance or any other activities that accompany a good holyroller service.