John Shore

The picture above is of what you see when, in our new home, you're walking up the first set of stairs from our living room.

That's right. It's pink. That's the way we wanted it---and by Gumby, that's the way our extremely intense Korean house painter, Eun Koo Kang, painted it. (I took this picture right after it was painted, to show my wife that day at lunch. You see the painting tarp there.)

Eun Koo, as it turned out, is a Seriously Devout Christian---which means, for instance, that he isn't free to work Sundays, since he spends literally all day at church. Commendable man of faith! It was my estimation of Eun Koo Kang that he also comes fully charged with about all of the testosterone a man can regularly process before he begins to actually grow hair on his internal organs. And while he did an admirable job of hiding his consternation at how willing we were to paint a perfectly good wall pink, he fell just short of displaying true equanimity.

Ever since I've been wondering what, exactly, Eun Koo thought as he applied the first stroke of pink upon the wall that only moments before he had with rather arresting vigor encouraged us to paint, "Any color not crazy."

I figure that what went through Eun Koo's mind as he lifted his glowing brush from the paint can was one or some combination of the following:

1. What's wrong with eggshell?

2. I miss Korea. We're such a sane people.

3. Why does the man allow his wife to tell him what color to paint the walls?

4. Why not just ask me to wear a skirt  while I'm painting?

5. They will never know that beneath this paint lies the Korean characters for "God Is Outraged!"

6. This actually looks kind of nice. I was wrong to show my condemnation. Humility is the key to grace. I must remember.

7. It's their money.

8. The husband does have an engagingly animated, very expressive, almost manically creative way about him. Maybe he's fegulah.

Comment/ be surprised by the interest people show in what color other people paint their walls here.

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Yesterday a reader named Judy was kind enough to comment (in response to my post, A Working Class Zero, about having just moved to our new home) "Home at last. Good on you, John! [How exotic!] How much more unpacking do you have to do?"

Well, Judy, here's a photo of my new office, taken seconds ago:

Let's see what we see here:

Books. I have about 50 cases of books waiting to go on shelves that are waiting to be bolted onto the walls first because this is California, and via earthquakes God has made it clear that he doesn't want people in California to read. Which explains Hollywood. But that's a whole other can of hair gel.

Canned air. I don't like regular air. It's too common. I prefer my air in a can. That way, I know where it comes from. Mine is from Canada. They have excellent air in Canada. You can almost smell the bear droppings in it. In fact, you can. Which is why I'm actually going to change to air from France. I can hardly wait to smell the croissants!

A laundry basket featuring my fancy Nike workout pants. I used to enjoy wearing those pants to work out. But since undertaking this Giant Move, my wife and I have been eating out a lot. And so now I enjoy wearing those pants because of their elastic waistband. To me, "Just Do It" now means "Order The Tierra Missue."

My laptop case. I have three laptop cases. Oddly, I have but one lap. I always like to keep a laptop case ready to go, though, in case anyone suddenly invites me to a very important meeting of some sort. No one ever, ever does. I hate the world.

The heaviest lamp in the history of light. That golden lamp you see in the background is solid brass. It weighs about 30lbs. It was an object of wonder for our movers, each of whom Officially Declared it the heaviest lamp they'd ever been bitter about having to move. The lamp was given to me by a dear Christian friend, a man who is 85 years old and in fantastic shape. He thought I, too, could use some exercise. So he gave me his lamp.

Well, I'm off to do anything I can to turn our kitchen from a mountain of half-empty boxes and wrapping paper strewn everywhere to a place where I can finally start creating the kind of food that will eventually give my Nike pants less reason to laugh at me.

Write me! Give me any reason to stop having to wonder whether or not I really need three colanders!

Save me from working here.

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Hello, reader! Unfortunately for you, the Interesting Quotient of this post drops precipitously from there. But I did want to take a moment before I spend 45 minutes rummaging around in boxes for socks and a pair of pants that over the weekend my wife Cat and I successfully moved into our new townhouse.

It took four huge guys seven hours to move all our stuff from where we were to where we are. It was a blast working with these guys. You all know me as a frightfully articulate, super-sensitive writer, but, via my decades spent working in warehouses and other such Physical Labor jobs, I know myself as a guy who gets paid by the hour to move heavy stuff from one place to another. And one of my favorite things about being a Joe Beast o' Burden is hanging out with other B.O.B's. I never know what intellectuals (not to mention Professionally Religious people) are talking about. But put me around guys who actually work for a living, and I'm good.

Of course, now such folk never know what I'm talking about.

"Stop telling us to buy your books," the movers kept saying. "And willya get the **** out of our way?"

And it's not like I could stiff 'em on the tip. It's not like they don't where I live.

It's so great to be living in this place I can't even begin to tell you!  I'm dying I'm so happy!

Comment here.

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This morning I received an email from a born again reader thoughtfully chastising me for being a liberal.

"Why are you still fairly liberal since becoming a born again Christian?" he wrote. "I was once liberal, but when I was born again, I believe the Holy Spirit changed many of my views to those I think the norm for all who are indwelt by the Holy Spirit."

For the record, I'm neither liberal nor conservative. Some of my opinions are conservative. Some are liberal. Depends on the issue. Call me a Liberal Republican. Call me a Conservative Democrat. Better yet, don't call me at all---especially if you want to talk politics.

But this guy's point is interesting. Because most Christians are politically conservative, right? But I always figured that had as much to do with culture and regional history as anything else. At the moment I became a Christian, I didn't think, "Sweet! Now I know how to vote!" But apparently this reader's conversion experience did lead him to start voting differently than he had before he joined the faith.

Do you think voting Republican is a natural consequence of being Christian? If it is, then isn't any Christian who votes as a liberal Democrat less of a Christian---less indwelt by the Holy Spirit---than one who votes as a conservative Republican? And if it's not---if believing in Jesus has no natural or particular bearing on a person's political affinities---then isn't it wrong for conservatives to assert that they have any better or more comprehensive a grasp on Christ's spirit than liberals do?

Share your thoughts here.

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