it's Stain, not Paint

Today was our last day of work in Chiang Rai. Tomorrow we head off to the almost-home portion of our trip.. and then it's home again, home again, jiggety jig.

I'm sitting in a small internet cafe--a portion of a row of businesses. The walls are pale blue, and the computers are in two neat rows lengthwise along them. The glass sliding doors are open, and i hear the motorcycles splashing past on the wet road. Next door is a restaurant, and the aroma of curry is floating into the cafe, making me think that i will miss Thai food more than i suspect. Another occupant of the cafe is playing a strange musical selection repeatedly: one of those mainstream pop songs, just with a screamer doing BGVs. It's kind of funny. Actually the main point of this paragraph was to say that the curry smells good, but i thought i should give you a few more details before i dropped that bomb.

I woke up this morning with a hymn playing in my mind. It was fabulous. I wanted to savor that moment--it made me feel so secure in my Lord! What a wonderful present to wake up to. Then i had a scrumptious omlette for breakfast, Thai style (really really fried, and served over rice, with one small slice of tomato on the side) along with my habitual spot of tea. My job today was to finish what i'd started yesterday: painting the playground with stain. It's stain, not paint, but to give you an accurate picture of what it looked like, a more accurate verb is "paint." The playground is a wooden structure, little houses connected by bridges. And we put a coat of stain on it of the Spanish Mahogany denomination, and it looks much better than it did before. The work was very pleasant for me, sitting in one of the roofed areas, listening to Jack Johnson. He says, "Can't you see that it's just raining..." and he was right. It was raining. I could see.