Weblogs

The Natural

Some folks are just born to describe their circumstances and surroundings to others. In the past we’d call them storytellers, but today they’re as likely to be labeled bloggers. The pastor at our church, who is leaving in July, has begun detailing her experiences with the old beach house she and her husband bought in Delaware. My favorite passage from her initial post:

You climbed up to a rickety deck over the side porch by some wooden stairs. We guessed that no housing inspector had ever dropped by with a code book in his pocket. In the living room the day we went to see the house there was a note on the coffee table: You pigs! Clean up this mess! We all have to live here! it suggested. The real estate agent fumbled for words. It’s just what we want, we told her.

Every neighbor on the block told us how happy they were that we had bought the place, how they had endured the late night parties and loud music, the life guards’ robust all-hours social life. All but one. I miss seeing their perfect bodies up there on the deck, sighed the middle-aged blonde across the street. They were just wonderful to look at.

Now, what about pictures?