Pleasantville

I love the name "Pleasantville." It sounds like a lazy author's attempt to typecast the ideal village. Turns out there are four Pleasantvilles, and that's just in Pennsylvania! We spent last week there, at one of them, as the speaker at their summer family camp and now I'm in London's Heathrow airport. London is like the opposite of Pleasantville – not that it's unpleasant but that it's the epitome of urban, while Pleasantville, well, isn't.

In Pleasantville we shot skeet (didn't eat 'em though), enjoyed ice cream and scared each other with bear stories (Technically they scared me more than I scared them, at least with the bear stories). I practiced my Creole lessons and my digeridoo playing, between preaching in the evenings, teaching in the mornings, and doing office-work in the afternoons.

A pleasant time was had by all.