Macramé planters and pottery parties.

I was about to sit down to write a post about the wonderful time I’ve had spending the last two days up in Baldwin with the Spauldings, but the conversation I just had on the ride home from church with my father was incredible enough to trump it. Never fear: the pictures I snapped of their beautiful cottage will make an appearance at a later date.

Before I regale you with the details of the chat I had with my dad, I believe he requires a bit of introduction. This is my father:

And this:

And here he is in my youth:

He’s brilliant. He has two masters and had just finished his first year in a doctoral program when I was born, ate up all the money, and forced him out into the workforce. Now he’s a book editor, the father of two girls, and a lover of Hamburger Helper. We think he’s hilarious and love him to death.

Conversations like the one I’m about to describe are not atypical. This is probably why we think he’s the best. He inadvertently reminds us by telling us ludicrous stories from his younger years.

He also asks priceless questions like, “so is Facebook what girls use these days to vet their dates?” which is how our exchange began this afternoon. Eventually we found ourselves talking about dating philosophy and I come to find out that Josh Harris, the author of I Kissed Dating Goodbye, grew up in the church my parents attended in Ohio, the same one that boasted a Bible college in the church house where they really got to know each other and in which they eventually got married. This alone would have been enough to floor me, but the story was just getting started.

Josh’s father, Greg Harris, worked at the church as a worship leader and pastor at youth group events. When not guiding young people in the ways of the Lord, Greg ran a business selling terrariums. Yes, those glass tanks in which you can keep lizards or piranhas or create your own rainforest mini-biome. Apparently there was a market for this in the ‘70s. He also sold pottery made by a local artisan and macramé hanging planters.

In addition to having a brick and mortar store out of which he would sell these high-demand items,  Greg did parties, similar to those you have for Pampered Chef or Tupperware but infinitely less useful. At these parties, an explanation of how to keep terrariums would be offered along with the opportunity to purchase the necessary supplies. More logically, this service was also available for the artisan pottery.

My father enters the story as an employee of this enterprising company. He was hired to serve as a representative at pottery parties. Unfortunately (and also not surprisingly), he missed something in the instructions and failed to understand what this position actually required of him. Instead of giving a presentation showcasing the items available and suggesting possible uses for various pieces, he would give a lesson on how pottery was made. Often this lesson would last such a long time that guests would have to leave early. Parties he worked were typically low on conversation and he rarely sold anything. If he wasn’t such a handsome lad, it’s unlikely they would have let him stay to finish his discourse.

Hope your Sunday is as filled with laughter as mine has been.