Just a Hammer.

So, I signed up to help lead a summer mission trip to Shawnee, Oklahoma. I'm not sure what possessed me to do such a thing. I don't really like.. you know... interacting with others. Anyways, I recieved an email soliciting adult leaders. Sadly, I just had my 26th birthday and at time I was mourning my lost childhood. "Yea, sure. I guess, I'm a flippin' adult. I can't go unless I chaperone 'cuz I'm too old." Something to that effect.

Anyways, so we (the team and I) are in the dead middle of organizing and planning. Things are actually going well. The team is solid. I just returned home from one of our monthly meetings.

The place in Shawnee we are working wants the team to bring tools. So Sarah, a friend who is also leading the trip, turns to the group and says, "I don't have any tools. Geez." Like a shark in an ocean of chum and tuna, I pounced at this great opportunity.

"What do you mean, Sarah, you don't have any tools? Were you born in the third world? Should I show you pictures of this thing I like to call 'a hammer?' Is this like that movie "The Gods Must Be Crazy" where the tribal people discover a Coke bottle for the first time? Wow, you are not handy at all." All this said in a very sarcastic tone. You know the one.

Without missing a beat, she gives me this look and says, "Oh, I'm sorry. So you have tools to shingle a house? Do you own a tarp?"

She's so right.