In Which My Neighbor Deserves A Batch of Cookies, At Least.

I've been reading this blog called And They Will Know Us By Our T-Shirts for a while now. Some guy in the midwest began it with the intent of recording the ironies and absurdities of working in a Christian bookstore. I appreciate his wit and writing ability, but I appreciate even more the tension he expresses between his commitment to the Christian faith, and his exasperation with the stupidity and ugliness involved in the culture that has grown on Christianity like barnacles on a boat's hull. I share that tension, and I know we're not alone, but it's not something I hear acknowledged by others very often. His posts have ranged from the deliciously sarcastic to the insightful to the moving. And then came the other kind of moving: his wife got a job in Portland, and almost two weeks ago the two of them packed up and came out here, starting a new blog to record their adventures.

So this afternoon, that t-shirt blogger and his wife, Ben and Nikki, stepped out of the internet and into my 3-D real-time world. We went to Stumptown for beverages and conversation, and strolled the more densely interesting part of Hawthorne, and cruised Mt. Tabor, and I got to tell them about my favorite places and how they have just moved to the coolest city in the world. I have to admit, though, it is even cooler now that they live here.

I like to show people a good time when they come to visit, but I saved the best for last. After all that sightseeing, we went back to my house to hang out for the half-hour or so until Nikki and Ben went to meet someone for dinner. But there we were stymied, because I discovered I had locked myself out when I left the house. Now when I've been locked out in the past, I have generally just gone to get the spare key from friends who live about 10 blocks away. So that's what I did, with Ben and Nikki in tow. (At least I wasn't locked out of my car, too.) Only when we got back to my house did I fully comprehend that I had locked myself out in an especially complicated way, by turning a bolt that I don't usually turn and don't carry a key for. So I had gone to get a copy of a key I already had in hand, and was still just as locked out as I was before.

Ben and Nikki took all this with good humor, yet somehow managed to refrain from laughing at me. I'm telling you, these are good people. Also good people: my next door neighbor, who, when I asked to use his phone to call a locksmith, offered to use his ladder to get in through an open upstairs window. Miraculously, he was able to remove the screen without damaging it, and then replaced it when he was done.

Of course, that about ate up my last half hour with Nikki and Ben. But it also pretty much guaranteed that they won't forget the day they met me. For the record, I would like to assure them and anyone else reading this that I'm not usually so airheaded. Just on special occasions.