A while back (probably close to two years, but that's just depressing to consider) I set myself the goal of reading the Bible (actually may be closer to three or four years, sigh). It's slow reading, but for a book to have lasted so long it must have something in it, I figured. I have devoted quite a bit of time to reading the classics of literature and I refused to neglect this collection simply out of spiritual prejudice.

So I'm reading it.

I don't read the Bible exclusively. I poke in a few other books just to keep my eyes from drying out. Ive read books of a classical nature right alongside popular fiction and pulp. I've read science fiction both old and new. But I keep coming back to the Bible.

Sadly, I recently reached the 32% mark. That's a nice thing about Amazon's Kindle: it gives you a percentage complete. I am less than one-third of the way through the Bible. I just finished the Book of Ezra. About the best I can say about Ezra is at least it furthered the story rather than just being a rehash of the Book of Exodus or I Kings. I found it amusing in a Monty-Python sort of way when the men of the exiles agreed to dispose of their wives whom they had married from outside of the Chosen. I chuckled as I pictured the looks of surprise this must have generated. I chuckled until I remembered the basic status as property women enjoyed then. These women, wives, were now used goods. Their husbands were abandoning them, to what? Would their families take them back? Not likely. Could they find jobs to support themselves and their children? Hardly. The book of Ezra does not detail what fate awaited these women, as if they were not worth caring about. Their former husbands had to make sacrifices to appease God for their sin and we can only assume the women and children died.

Protection of marriage should have gotten an earlier start. But maybe that's one of the fine traditions of one-man-one-woman union that's being savagely fought for.

Last year the pastor at my church asked me to make a stained glass window for his office at church. I was honored, but also awed at the prospect. His office is in the church that inspired me to try my hand at glass in the first place.

He gave me a free hand in the design of the window, only requesting color. All the pieces are cut out now. I only have to assemble now.

Yes, I know most stage magicians can't really do magic. I understand there's probably a trick involved when a woman is cut apart into three equal parts in a stack of boxes. But I don't watch magic acts to bolster my disbelief; I like to suspend my disbelief.

So why or why ohwhyohwhyohwhy did I ever watch the special features on the DVD of Walt Disney's "Darby O'Gill and the Little People"? It actually hurt (italics for emphasis) to see footage of filming techniques that seemed to prove the leprechauns in the movie were really just normal-sized actors. I can understand why Disney had to create this bit of propaganda. King Brian probably had a clause in his contract that we bigguns were never to know of their true existence. But gosh darnit, the "behind the scenes" short was so convincing it's practically ruined the movie for me.

But only practically.

I know the truth and I appreciate the motives.

This past weekend I finished a carving for a friend. About 12 years ago he gave me a log and asked if I'd make him one of my Greenman faces. That log seasoned a bit too much (rot), but I still planned to carve something for him.



And then time passed and passed and passed. I just never seemed to get around to making that one carving. But this weekend I finished a watcher Greenman for my friend. He turned out nicely, I think, a brother to the Greenman who guards my own back door.

Now that that is out of the way and my conscience is clear I can start work this weekend on the window for my pastor. I know I've talked about this before and claimed to be starting it, but until this week I have not been satisfied with the design. I finally have a completed cartoon and start cutting.

The only other thing I'm working on is some writing. I attended a meeting of the Y-City Writers (they meet at my church). I have been trying to get back into writing and thought a gathering of like-minded people might suit me. The first impression was not the greatest. One member told a gay joke, and of course that did not go over well with me. Concerned that I not over-react I said nothing. On the one hand, it was inappropriate and, more offensive, old. On the other hand, he did say "Two gay guys ..." rather than "Two fags ..."

I plan to go to the next meeting just to give it a fair shake. We'll see.

This weekend in the shower one morning I took stock of my life and came to a a couple of conclusions. First, I am set in a routine of washing and if I break that routine something gets left out. Second, I'm not happy enough.

When I was young (and that includes up to the age of about 33), I was a very happy man. I was optimistic. I liked people. I liked being around people. I liked helping people and talking to them and listening to their stories.

But something happened to change that. I'll call it sarcasm, but it might be criticism. I like making people laugh, and the laziest way to garner a laugh is through these two isms. It takes very little effort to put something or someone down in an amusing fashion. The trouble is, as with many shortcuts and bad habits, this attitude easily overtakes your life. Before I even realized I had changed I was not a happy man anymore. I was caustic. I saw a cloud in every silver lining. It wasn't a matter of the glass being half full or half empty, the point was my glass wasn't overflowing.

So here, at nearly the halfway point in the year, I am setting a new resolution. I am going to make an effort to return to that man I used to be. There are too many good things in my life to allow myself to dwell in the dreary. I have my studio where I enjoy making glass and carving. I have a loving partner. I have a great dog who worships me. There are Doris Day movies and musical recordings. Manhattan Transfer. Abba.

The color green.

I may not turn the world on with my smile, but I still plan to smile.