Easter Weekend

Here's been my past three days:
(Good) Friday: breakfast brainstorming with my friend Bong, meeting for a group project throughout the morning, dealing with house maintenance issues, waiting in line at the DMV to do paperwork and take a test, worked the night shift at security. The perks of working at an evangelical seminary: while we don't get all state-sanctioned holidays off, we do get this one, so school was closed, leaving me with an uneventful evening of study, rest, and locking a grand total of five doors.

(Holy) Saturday: driving around southeast Pasadena and Sierra Madre seeking out smog test facilities in the am, softball practice in early afternoon, and an unexpected call from a buddy around six, as I was planning to walk out the door and find a reading spot.

"Mike, what're you doing right now?"
"Nothing yet."
"You're going to the Dodgers/Giants game with me; Michelle's sick."
"Game on."
"Sweet, I'll see you at 6:30, your place."

We headed down to the stadium, where we crossed paths with my friend Kevin in the parking lot; cool, unexpected surprise. All in all, it was a great Saturday evening in Echo Park, celebrating our friend MP's birthday (his girlfriend got a group together, completely surprising him!). Good game, great friends, fun conversation and ballpark banter, especially when the conversation turned to the wave ('it's only a misdemeanor in CA to kill the guy who starts the wave, right?' Then, perhaps encouraged by the specter of a lone guy walking up and down the stairs trying to start cheers, Brian attempts to start one himself. It grew, from one man to one section, eventually expanding to engulf three sections. However, the full-fledged wave wound up going in the opposite direction, a sort of backlash. Does that still count as 'starting the wave?'

I must say, I've never seen any one human being inspire the sheer hatred that Barry Bonds does in Dodger country. Seriously, they had security surrounding the field between innings, and the "Barry Sucks" chants recurred, even when he wasn't doing anything but playing left field. He is NOT well-liked in this part of the land.

(Easter) Sunday: slept in, lounged the late morning away, stopped by the gym, came back home and wrote for a bit. About to go out the door for another Dodger game with a different friend; two invitations in one week, both with better seats than i've ever had. Pretty sweet...but the juxtaposition is as follows.

Here I am, in my third year of seminary, and i'm skipping church on Easter (for a ballgame, although the company justifies it, IMO). Probably can't do this much longer, especially if the pastoral dreams come to fruition...