Effortless Effervescence

Take 1: A big huge THANK YOU to everyone that’s offered encouragement and support in response to my decision to quit smoking. Right now I’m at 58 hours smoke-free and I’m feeling great. Yes, I still have cravings, but I’m doing a great job of telling my inner addict, “You do NOT need a cigarette to feel good. K?”

I’ve also sworn off sodas and started drinking a TON of water all day long. I used to be a no-soda kind of gal, but when my nicotine and tar habit gave me terrible dry mouth and a perpetual sore throat I eventually found myself drinking 4 or 5 20-oz sodas EVERY DAY. There’s just no need for that much sugar to go into my body every day, right? And I figure that switching from soda to water will offset any post-quitting weight gain. The only downside to drinking all this water is that I’m actually going to the bathroom twice as often now… and the people that know me will tell you it’s darn impressive that I’ve managed to squeeze EVEN MORE potty time into my life!

Take 2: PAMPERED CHEF PARTY TONIGHT! I am very, very excited. I cleaned house & went grocery shopping last night. All I have to do tonight is pick up the, um, beverages, ifyouknowwhatImean. I’ll bet the cooking demonstrations are even more fun when you’re intoxicated

And once again, I want to ask you to visit my friend Bethany’s Pampered Chef website for all your nifty cooking needs!

Take 3: We’ve been letting the kittens wander around the house for a little bit every night. So far, the reactions of our established animal residents are quite varied: Fluffy, our tortoiseshell, tells the kittens in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS that they better stay the hell away; Squeaker, our tailless tuxedo cat, is curious but standoffish; Indy, our fat orange tabby, is confused and scared; and Milo, our hyper beagle-mix is DANGEROUSLY excited about his newchew toys buddies. He wants to romp and wrestle and snuggle with them, which is super cute, but he is SOOOO much bigger than the kitties and doesn’t realize it. On more than one occasion, he’s sent Randall (the BABY orange tabby) flying with an over-enthusiastic nose-nudge. Luckily, Randall is pretty fearless and will pick fights with Milo; the other night he bit Milo HARD on the ear, and I think our dog was mystified that these chew toys actually chewed back!

Take 4: I have to tell y’all about my new favoritest wine, Twisted. So far I’ve tried the Old Vine Zinfandel and Merlot, and I have to say that this brand is a wonderful treat for sipping in the evenings while cooking, reading, or chatting with friends. I’m not good at pairing - the only rough guideline I follow is red wines with red meat or red sauces, and even that rule gets broken fairly regularly - and that’s what’s great about Twisted. They’re making wine that’s good with, well, anything. I found the Merlot fruity and sassy, the Zinfandel dry and refined. And at less than $15 for a 1.5L bottle, Twisted is a damn good deal, too. (Image courtey of the Twisted Wines website.)

Take 5: One of my (many, it seems!) pregnant girlfriends just found out she’s having a little girl. This is perfect because I have been insisting that she name her child after me ever since she found out she was pregnant. You may think this is mere vanity on my part, but you would be WRONG. I am just very sad to see that after years of being the #1 name for baby girls in America, Emily recently slipped to 3rd place. Oh, sadness! Oh, woe!

Take 6: My front flower bed is hideous. No, I am not exaggerating. When we planted this spring, we could only afford plants - no good soil, no mulch - and I thought we could skate by with out the investment of compost and landscape cover. I was WRONG. The little topsoil we had washed away in the heavy rains of late spring, and then all the plants baked in the summer sun. Oh, and the weeds went NUTS over that past month or so - when I’d walk in the front door, I could only avert my eyes in shame. I knew when we attempted to up our “curb appeal” that such an endeavor would require hard work and consistency. I’m a fairly hard worker, but I am not long on consistency, letmetellyou. And as a result, I’m pretty sure our yard is the laughing stock of the cul-de-sac. Thankfully, my kind husband spent a few minutes tearing up the weeds with his parent’s Mantis, so the beds look marginally better. It’s not a wide margin, though.

Hey, there’s always next year, right? As long as my gardening heart is pure, I know I will someday have success.

Take 7 - Audience Participation: What talent or skill do you really wish you had? I ask this because I’ve always wished that gardening came easily to me, but it just doesn’t. I find it intimidating and perplexing, though I’m getting better at overcoming my fears. I’m also not great at being organized in my housekeeping, I’m scared to death of sewing, and I’ve given up learning to knit several times because all the counting and paying attention and deciphering coded patterns was just too much work for me, LOL. I’m not as accomplished a baker as I’d like to be, but I am a damn fine cook, thank goodness. I guess, overall, I just wish I was more domestic. I know I don’t HAVE to be domestic to be a good wife/mom/woman/person, but I WANT to be.

In the same vein, I WANT to be smarter and more well-read on current events, but I honestly (this is embarrassing) find the news sooooo boooooring. Same thing with history - I have a hard time giving a crap. But I feel like I SHOULD know more stuff about the world I live in - if for no other reason than it sounds terrible to admit that I’m so ignorant!

Don’t worry, this is a no-spoiler zone.

Have you ever gone over to a friend’s house and been offered ice cream for dessert, and you say, “Hell yeah, I’d love some ice cream!” then you dig into the bowl and realize that what you got was some sort of sugar-free, fat-free frozen yogurt? Yeah, it’s okay for what it is, but you were looking forward to ICE CREAM and there’s just so much good stuff missing that you’re really let down. That’s how I felt about Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I loved the book, and was looking forward to a rich, densely packed tale and what I got was… fluff. Maybe I’d have enjoyed the movie if I didn’t have such high expectations, but who can blame me? I’m a bit mystified by the folks who’ve said that HBP is the best of the movies to date. Huh?

I really, really hope that I am not as let down by The Time Traveler’s Wife. Because that would make me cry a little.

It’s Friday again! And thank goodness. Though this weekend doesn’t look like it’s going to be as lazy as I’d like, I still need a break from this week.

Take 1: Well, as I mentioned on Twitter, LiveJournal, and Facebook, Randall and A.C. went to the vet yesterday and the news was Not Good. They tested positive for FIV, which could mean that they will live their lives in quarantine from the other kitties and require more diligent medical attention (i.e., going to the vet immediately for the sniffles or runny poop instead of waiting it out as I do with my other pets). However, it is quite common for kitties (especially young cats) to get a false positive, so we’ll take them back in six weeks to be re-tested. I won’t lie, I’m hoping and praying that all will be hunky dory with the second test, but I’m preparing myself mentally and emotionally for the chance that it won’t. We shall see…

Take 2: Does anyone else love shopping for other people? I have more fun than I think is healthy buying presents for folks, especially for kids or Big Life-Changing Events, such as weddings and baby showers. I also like grocery shopping for other people! My company is doing an intensive food drive for the Foodbank of Southeastern Virginia, and I visited Wally World this morning to pick up my contribution. I pulled cans off the shelf, debated their value based on price and yumminess, put some back, pulled more off. I had the most fun in the baby food aisle, where I asked myself, “Um, what would I want to eat if I was a year old?” The answer is FRUIT and LOTS OF IT. None of this green peas nonsense. When I came into the office, someone noticed my bags and shouted, “Baby fooooooood!” I responded, “AND Kraft Mac-n-Cheese.” My gathered colleagues oohed and ahhed. Yes, I think that the value of processed cheese product and simple carbohydrates is universally acknowledged. YUMMEH.

Take 3: I had signed up to do Blogathon this year, and a month ago I was SUPER excited, but now I’m not so sure I’ll be able to pull it off. Between spending 12 days out-of-state this month and caring for two wee kittens, I haven’t had time to strategize, advertise, or even alert the Virginia Beach SPCA that I’m blogging to support them. *sigh* I really, REALLY wanted to do this, and I’m afraid I might have made a mess of things. See this face? This is my disappointed in myself face. Yes, I know I should cut myself a break, but I’m not so good at doing that, okay?

Take 4: BUT ENOUGH OF ALL THIS SADNESS AND WOE! Today I am meeting my girls Jennifer and Jeannette for lunch today. Mexican food and girl talk on a Friday afternoon? SCORE. Also, Jennifer is preggers and apparently started showing just in the last week, and I cannot wait to see her cute little belly. And pat her belly and talk to the baby and announce to random passersby that OMG MY FRIEND IS HAVING A BABY and generally make her feel self-conscious about gaining all of seven pounds.

Take 5: My friend Kerry came over on Wednesday night and taught Chrissy (my brother’s GF) how to make lasagne. I finally had some of it last night, and I have to say it was FLIPPIN’ AMAZING. I am looking forward to nomming on it this evening, too.

Take 6: Speaking of Chrissy and my “baby” brother: they might be moving back to Florida. See this? This is my sad face. I understand why they’re considering it (she’s got a full scholarship for any college in Florida, but she’d be paying a super lotta ton of money to go to school in VA b/c she’s still considered an out-of-state student) but that doesn’t mean I want them to leave! And I have to say that Milo will probably be HEARTBROKEN, as he’s become very attached to Auntie Chrissy and Uncle Glenn.

Take 7: Darn it, I segued back into sadness and woe. So I’ll make the audience participation part of this post something lighthearted and fun. If you could have any animal as a pet - wild or tame, extinct or not - what would it be? I’m thinking I’d want a Dodo. Dunno why. They’re just kinda cute. See?

Cute!

At my former church, we had a saying: “CIQM,” pronounced “sic em,” like what you say to an attack dog when you want him to make hamburger out of someone’s face. “CIQM” stood for Catch It Quick Missionaries, referring to how our pastor would send us missionaries (those of us who worked or volunteered full-time at the church and were part of the pastor’s inner circle) to confront someone who was “in sin.” “Sin” was basically not doing what the pastor wanted you to do, and if the person in question did not yield to the pressure we applied in the form of yelling, belittling, and threatening, we washed our hands of the situation and effectively shut him or her out of the congregation.

Let me assure you, I am not proud of this part of my past. But you need to understand where I’ve come from to understand where I am now.

Yesterday, Jen @ Conversion Diary wrote a very interesting post about selfishness and sacrifice. I love reading Jen’s blog, but this time, the most interesting thing about the post is the comments! Some folks are all, “Whoa, Jen, thanks for your honesty! This post really convicted me about my own selfishness. Blessings!!!1!” Other folks are all, “Dayum, Jen, you’re a big fat meanie. HATESTABKILL!!!1!” I was kind of blown away that such a touchy-feely post could generate such widely divergent points of view and some truly genuine antipathy. (I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering that I have, in my blogging career, managed to unknowingly offend countless readers and stir up sh*t storms the likes of which civilization did not know before the anonymity of the internet. However, I usually assume that I’m a Very Special Case, being impulsive, mouthy, and opinionated.)

Reading the comments on Jen’s blog inspired me to share a story from my early post-cult days, when my ex-husband and I were trying to figure out how to live without having “God’s” will for our every action spelled out to us by a mentally unstable, egomaniacal pastor. Having decided to leave the church staff, I was feeling adrift in a sea of WTF DO I DO NOW??? As I questioned all the things we’d ever accepted as right and true, my ex clung tightly to fundamentalism, afraid that if he admitted anything was wrong, the entire house of cards would collapse.

So there we were - spiritually traumatized - standing in line at Wal-Mart, when the man ahead of us said, “Excuse me, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to pay for part of this lady’s groceries?” He gestured to the older woman who was accompanying him; all of her groceries had been rung up and she’d just been given a total. “She has brain cancer and is on a fixed income.”

I answered immediately, without apology or qualification, “NO.”

The guy looked at me with horror and disgust baldly apparent in his eyes and repeated in disbelief, “No?” My ex apologized (as he often did when he felt I was being too blunt), saying, “We really can’t, we’re kind of on a tight budget, too.” The guy gave my husband a sympathetic smile, as if saying, “I’ll pray for you, buddy - your wife is a SHREW EXTRAORDINAIRE!” and returned to his friend’s side.

I wondered then - and now I’m pretty sure I’m right - whether that man approached us because my ex was wearing a T-shirt that said something on it about Jesus. I think he assumed that because we were Christians we owed him or his friend something. Guess what? We don’t. The only person I owe anything to is God, and if he wants me to pay for your groceries, he’ll tell me to.

You know how when you were a kid, and your younger brother stole your favorite toy or ruined one of your sweaters, and you tried to exact revenge on him in the form of a good, hearty beating, and your mom hollered at you, “Emily, I’ll handle it! You worry about you, and I’ll worry about Glenn.” (Maybe your childhood didn’t include frequent episodes like that, but mine certainly did!) Well, I think that’s how God handles stuff. We get all huffy and self-righteous about people who don’t do what we KNOW for SURE God wants them to do and God says, “Would you cool down and worry about your own stuff? I’ll handle this.”

God knew all the things that this guy did not know about me and my husband. He knew about the spiritual abuse, and how poor we were because we gave well beyond a tithe to our church and I was rarely paid for the work I did there every day. He knew that we’d have lost our house if I hadn’t received an insurance settlement for a minor traffic accidence earlier that year. He knew that we’d had to rely on the charity of others to get through the winter, that I hadn’t had new clothes (unless you call the secondhand stuff I pulled out of the donation box at church) for years, and that despite all of that we still made an effort to give cheerfully to people who had less than we did.

Was this guy right in judging me for refusing to give money to a sick old woman? No. But was I right in being so flaming pissed off at him, considering that he did not know any of the details of my life? No. We both could have cut each other some slack.

Often, Christians are quick to point out what a sinner someone else is. True, they might not be so bad as those of us on the CIQM team, but that judgement and self-righteousness is there all the same. We measure ourselves against each other, and find one another wanting. What we forget is that we’re not supposed to be comparing ourselves to one another, but to the model of Jesus. And guess what? ALL OF US ARE EPIC FAIL WHEN IT COMES TO BEING JUST LIKE JESUS.

As Jesus himself said, we’re missing the point if we’re trying to pick the speck of dust out of someone else’s eye when we have a huge plank sticking out of OUR eye. If we’re going to catch anything quick, let’s catch our own bad behavior - not someone else’s.

As of this weekend, we’ve got two more mouths to feed. Luckily, these little guys don’t eat much - YET.

Meet Randall (orange tabby) and Annoying Customer (calico)*, brother and sister, left to fend for themselves when their mommy was run over by a car. My husband’s grandma found them under her porch and took them in; because she has her hands full with other worries, and can’t have indoor cats, I insisted that Jon & I bring them home. Surprisingly, my husband has not filed for divorce yet, despite the fact that he has insisted repeatedly through our courtship and short marriage that we would have NO MORE CATS. I’m really glad he’s a nice guy, too lazy to go to the courthouse and too poor to hire a lawyer.

I mean, look at em! They’re not only adorable, they’re also in desperate need of medical care (Randall’s eyes seem to be infected, and they’re both swollen with worms). That doesn’t keep them from getting frisky, though:

Randall: I’m a-gonna bite you on da head! OM NOM NOM.
A.C.: Oh yeah? Take that! And that! Hiss! Grrrr! Rowr!

Randall: You fight like a girl!
A.C.: I am a girl. At least I think I’m a girl? I don’t know!

Now, I knew when we took these babies in that there would be a certain level of inconvenience and sacrifice, mostly on the financial side. I mean, vet visits aren’t cheap, and neither is cat food and litter and brand new toys because GOOD GOD KITTENS NEED TOYS, DON’T THEY??? Plus, they have to be quarantined from the rest of the animal family until they get a clean bill of health, which means they’re stuck in a room all by themselves and we have to go in to spend time with them regularly. Spending time with them isn’t the problem - they’re adorable, and I can’t WAIT to get home from work in the evenings & see them - but their living quarters are! See, these guys aren’t litterbox trained yet, so there are tiny piles of poop all over my craft/guest room, and they even pooped on an afghan my hubby’s (deceased) maternal grandma made for him, as well as the bed skirt and the comforter I had on the bed in that room.

Not only is the room poo-riffic, it’s also covered in tiny, sticky pawprints, because both of the kittens stand IN their saucers of milk to drink and then track the stuff all over the floor. And onto my lap. I have to change my clothes every time I go to visit them. And wash my hands, because I usually have to wipe them down with nifty cat bath-wipes so they don’t smell like rotten milk.

Oh, and they have gas. REALLY bad gas.

As I peeled poo off my (NEW!) bedskirt with a paper towel this morning and dumped it into the washer for a long, hot soak, I thought, “What on earth did I do to anger the poop-fates?” I don’t know. All I know is it’s worth getting my hands (and arms and feet and nice hardwood floors and pretty heirloom afghan) dirty while taking care of two tiny little beings who need me and love me. I could turn this story into a neat little metaphor for being a parent, or a sibling, or a friend, or a caretaker, or a social worker, or a spiritual mentor, but I don’t think I need to spell it out for you. I’m sure we all know how good it feels to do something wonderful for someone else - even if the job is sometimes poo-riffic.

* It’s a Kevin Smith thing. You wouldn’t understand.

I missed last week’s Seven Quick Takes because I was still on vacation and the ‘net connection in the hotel was soooooooo slow and we were doing soooooooo many things. Tomorrow I’ll be on the road AGAIN, this time heading for a destination that has NO internet connection (the horror, the horror!). I figured I’d better peek into Smooch-land TODAY, because I don’t want y’all to forget me, or be wandering lost in boredom and sadness because I didn’t take the time to write something silly and mundane brilliant and thought-provoking.

Take 1: If you’re wondering how our vacation was, the answer is WONDERFUL. My husband Jon and I had a ton of fun with Jon’s little boy, who just turned five. He is the cutest thing on two legs and a bundle of giggles. I really enjoyed spending time with him and his mom’s side of the family, and seeing a part of the country I was completely unfamiliar with. Did you know that Fort Smith is the second-largest city in Arkansas? Of course, its population is about one-fifth the size of Virginia Beach, VA, where Jon and I currently live, so “large” and “city” are relative terms.

Take 2: Are you wondering where we’re going this weekend? We’re going to Bentleyville, PA, where my husband grew up and where his grandparents, aunt and uncle still live. The grandparents have decided to let go of their full-sized Ford van in favor of a smaller vehicle with a smaller gas tank, and they asked us if we’d like to have it. Jon responded with an ecstatic, “YES!” because neither of our vehicles (he drives a Chevy truck and I drive a Beetle) is good for road trips. Since my in-laws are going up to PA anyway for a school reunion, Jon and I decided to tag along with them and drive the van home. I am super excited about seeing Jon’s grandparents, but also super overwhelmed by all the traveling. Next weekend? I AIN’T LEAVIN HOME FOR NOTHIN. So there.

Take 3: While in Fort Smith, we visited a delightful little used bookstore called Book Ends, where I scored a great find: The Doctor’s Wife by Elizabeth Brundage.

I read the book in about ten hours, because it was just THAT. GOOD. It’s the story of Annie Knowles, whose husband Michael is an OB/GYN targeted by a violent pro-life group because he volunteers at an abortion clinic on the weekends, and whose lover Simon Haas is once-famous, now-nearly-ruined artist whose wife’s hold on reality is precarious at best. I’d call this book a study in marriage and humanity and tricky ethical dilemmas, as well as an absorbing page-turner. I especially have to give Brundage two-thumbs-up for creating characters who pushed out of the boundaries of their stereotypes (the bad boy artist, the desperate housewife, the workaholic doctor).

I also picked up The Story of B by Daniel Quinn, which isn’t nearly as absorbing, but I’m not sure it’s supposed to be. If/when I finish it, I’ll let you know if it was worth the effort.

Take 4: More about books! (Yeah, I’m slightly obsessed.) While browsing at Barnes & Noble last night, I came across Why We Love Church by Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck. I read a few pages and was absolutely BLOWN. AWAY. by the author’s insights. For a long time, I’ve been saying that I love Jesus but I hate a lot of his followers, and how hard it is for me to go to church, and blah blah blah… well, when the introduction of this book reminding me that the church is Jesus’s bride, and talking smack about someone’s wife (even if she does kind of deserve it) is not a good way to be a friend to that person. It occurred to me that Jesus knows the church isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t me he doesn’t love it, and doesn’t want me to be a part of it.

I wish I’d had a few bucks to spare yesterday, because I REALLY want to read the rest of that book. Eh, maybe I’ll do what I saw other patrons doing when I worked at B&N: set up camp in the comfy chairs for a couple of days and read the whole book without buying it!

Take 5: My friend Bethany just started selling Pampered Chef, so I’m hosting a party to support her (and hopefully get some fun freebies for myself!). Aaaaaaaand of course I have to pimp her website, because I’m sure she’ll get sooooo much traffic from the 4 people who read this blog, LOL. So if you’re in the market for a nifty new garlic press or cheese grater, then please show my girl some love.

Take 6: My husband and brother were in charge of dinner last night, so I went to the library with Chrissy, my brother’s girlfriend. When we returned, we found the two men clustered around a pot of boiling water, frowning at the directions on a box of Suddenly Salad. Jon turned to me with an utterly perplexed look on his face and started asking panicked questions: “What’s a tablespoon? Do we have vegetable oil? Where is it?” I said, “Do you want me to take care of the pasta salad and you guys just worry about the burgers?” Oh, how they rejoiced! I know there are many men out there who would probably throw ME out of the kitchen, because their culinary skills are so evolved my little brain cannot even comprehend the deliciousness of the food they prepare every day. These men? Do not live in my house.

Take 7: Keeping with tradition, I shall make my seventh take an audience-participation question. If you had 20 dollars, and you HAD to spend it on someone else, who would it be and what would you buy? I’d like to buy a gift for a couple I know who just got married last weekend. The husband is a kid I’ve known since he was a scrawny little 12-year-old helping us out during my old church’s building project; now he’s all grown up and the youth minister at his own church. If I had the funds, I’d by Love to Love You by Bill and Pam Farrell, which is one of the best relationship books I’ve ever read.

Okay, so the Seven Quick Takes is supposed to be posted on Friday, but because I was so busy yesterday getting ready for our trip, I barely touched my computer and therefore didn’t get a chance to post any amount of takes, quick or otherwise. So I’m breaking all the rules and posting them on Saturday. Mwahaha!

Take 1: I did a damn good job of getting ready yesterday. I did four loads of laundry, packed about a million books to read in the car (I know I won’t read them ALL, but I like to have plenty of variety to choose from), wrapped my stepson’s birthday presents (he is so spoiled - I hope he’s as delighted with the gifts as I am!) and packed my and my husband’s bags. The one thing I forgot? My copy of Julia, of which I have only FIFTEEN MORE PAGES to read before I’m done! Blast! Now I have to wait until we get back to Virginia Beach to find out the ending. I’m reading the book b/c a good friend told me it’s the scariest book he’s ever read. I think it’s definitely disturbing, but not TERRIFYING. Actually, the story is a LOT like The Ring, which is probably why I don’t find it all that scary. I guess the idea of an evil girl-child killed by her mother and coming back from the dead to inflict more and worse evil is becoming canon. *sigh* Not that the devil child thing isn’t an INTERESTING archetype, it’s just… old.

Take 2: Speaking of horror movies & books, I’ve lately been thinking about how many scary movies feature insane asylums. I guess it has something to do with how “othered” the mentally ill are. Many of them cannot advocate for themselves, they are misunderstood and their loss of control is fearful to so many people who don’t even want to think of being OUT of control, and so they are portrayed as a dangerous and morally bankrupt caricature. I’m not necessarily offended by these media representations, but I am fascinated by them. It just goes to show that what frightens us is often the most mundane things, like insanity.

Take 3: I’m sure you’ve all heard about the Macbook giveway from Moonfruit? No? Well, where have you been? Hiding under a rock? Interesting aside: twice today people have offered me a free, new laptop case. Is this a sign that I need to buy a new Macbook? Or even better yet, that I may win the Twitter contest? Because I would be more than okay with that.

Take 4: Since I didn’t have Julia to read in the car, I finished Reasons to Believe by John Marks. I have to say that the ending was VERY powerful, and I respect Marks for his integrity - he does not believe in Jesus, he doesn’t believe it’s possible that a good God exists at all, allowing us to experience so much suffering, and so whenever he encounters an evangelical Christian who wants him to make a decision and get saved RIGHT NOW, he refuses to pretend, refuses to go through the motions just so someone else’s conscience will be assuaged. Yet, like many of the people he interviewed, I am perplexed by the fact that he just CANNOT believe in God. I mean, I know that the world is full of suffering, and it pisses me off and confuses me too, but I’ve never taken that as proof positive that God isn’t real. Maybe that makes me small-minded? I don’t much care. Though my conclusions about God and the universe and the meaning of life are different from Marks’, I still really enjoyed his book and have to give him two thumbs up for it.

Take 5: Last night, after packing until midnight, I watched He’s Just Not That Into You with my brother’s girlfriend Chrissy. I’ve been wanting to see this move since I first heard it was in the works, because I LOVED the sobering, tough-love brutality of the book. The movie was good, but the ending was a cliched happily-ever-after, and the WHOLE POINT of the book was to scare women straight off that unrealistic bull. Don’t get me wrong, I DO believe in happy endings, but I also believe that mixed signals are usually very clear signals that HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU, and the screenwriters seemed to think that compromising that message was necessary just so they could fit into the romantic comedy mold.

Take 6: Because of the many hours of packing and the late movie, I did not get to bed until just before 3 a.m. I woke up at ten past 6 this morning. So far I’ve only had a thirty-minute nap in the car. I’m probably just running on adrenaline fumes at this point, and that’s okay. I’ll sleep good tonight.

Take 7: And now for the audience participation part of the show - what’s the longest you’ve gone without sleep? (Yeah, I kinda stole this from a recent LiveJournal Question of the Day. Whatever. As if there’s anything new or original on the internet any more.) I’ve only ever stayed up all night long once, to complete a work assignment. I have skated through MANY days on just two or three hours of sleep, though. It is not something I care to do on a regular basis any more.

K, y’all, have a lovely weekend and be good!

I realized the other day, as I was walking into Wal-mart, that I have a crush on Jesus, and I might be getting a little obsessive about this church thing.

After work yesterday, I went to the library to drop off armloads of books about religion, and to pick up armloads of MORE books about religion. As I drove home, I complained to my brother’s girlfriend (who accompanied me on my errand) that I wouldn’t be able to go to church for two whole weeks because I was about to go on vacation with my husband and his parents. The fact that I am so disappointed about this indicates that Something Very Odd has happened to me. I mean, even as a Bible thumper and faithful cult member, I wasn’t excited about going to church. The fact that I am now amazes me.

Have you ever heard about New Relationship Energy (NRE)? Apparently the term was coined by folks who practice polyamory to describe the invigorating feelings of infatuation that inevitably contrast themselves with the gentle consistency of an established long-term relationship. NRE is also (in my opinion) what draws so many people who profess monogamy into adulterous relationships. When you’ve been with someone a long time, and you know everything about them, and you’ve got some baggage between you, it’s easy to be swept away by the excitement of a new friendship or flirtation. NRE is a great feeling, a breathless high. NRE is how new lovers manage to stay up until all hours of the night talking and not feel a bit fatigued the next day. It’s the reason we watch the clock all day, and eagerly grab our phone whenever it rings. It makes us feel more beautiful than we have in years.

But all relationships, if they’re going to be long-term commitments, must eventually make that transition from exciting to comfortable. Not that a long-term relationship can’t be fulfilling, but when you’ve watched someone trim their toenails and leave the clippings in an ashtray on the coffee table, some of the romance and intrigue fades. You don’t run screaming out the door, because you love this sick, twisted person. Still, you may sigh in longing remembrance for the time when he or she was still a mystery, and such troublesome grooming habits were undiscovered.

Well, Jesus and I have been together for a long time. I realized a few months ago that my relationship with him has lasted longer than any relationship I’ve had with any human being - longer than my relationship with my first husband, which spanned eight years. If you count my conversion at the age of three, Jesus and I have been friends even longer than I’ve known my childhood best friend, Kathy. Despite the fact that I’ve found other things to distract me from Jesus, and even been so annoyed with him we haven’t spoken for a few years or so, I’ve always felt, in my heart, a certainty that what we had was real, and that we “belonged” together.

So why, all of a sudden, am I a Jesus fangirl? I mean, my devotion as a young adult wasn’t anything like this. Back then it was all about rules - being a Christian necessitated following strict “dos and don’ts” - and though I loved Jesus, it was an imperfect, selfish love. Jesus, take away my depression. Jesus, make me a better person. Jesus, help me finish my homework. Jesus, bless my church. Jesus, make these sinners into saints - not because I want them to love you, but because it just looks bad if I don’t make my evangelism quota. I was in many ways a model Christian, but I wasn’t a very good friend to Jesus.

He was a good friend to me, though. He answered many of my prayers, even the most self-interested ones. He comforted me in the darkest times of my life, even when my sadness was the natural by-product of my own mistakes. In Bible study, in prayer, in worship, Jesus’s presence and love was often tangible to me. It was delightful. He’s delightful.

When I left Christ Church, I was broken - not by God, but by man. By all the expectations that people had for me, by the exhausting, never-ending work of the church, by the lies I’d been told and the intolerable intolerance I’d cultivated, wielding the words of Scripture as a weapon. I didn’t trust Jesus any more, because I didn’t trust myself.

Oddly enough, although I had checked out of my relationship with Jesus, he didn’t check out of his relationship with me. He continued to comfort me and teach me, and when I was ready to talk again, he was there. It was something like a year ago that I realized I couldn’t fight it anymore. I’m a Christian. I don’t understand God outside of Jesus. I know that many people find fulfillment in many other religions - or without religion at all - but I’m not those people. Jesus, I wish I knew how to quit you.

Oh, wait. No, I don’t.

So for the past year I’ve identified as a Christ-follower, but in a very hazy, non-committal way. I wasn’t into church or churchy people. Frankly, most Christians still pissed me off. It wasn’t until about a month ago, when a Christian challenged me to stop focusing on the negative (what I DON’T like about Christianity) and start focusing on the positive (how I can love more, even forgiving and accepting the people who offend me most, like other Christians) that I realized I needed to kick my relationship with Jesus into high gear again. After all, focusing on what you don’t want often has the opposite effect - your focus draws you towards the very thing you hate. By despising legalistic, bigoted hypocrites, I was becoming a legalistic, bigoted hypocrite. But by loving a man who was the embodiment of God’s perfect love - well, mightn’t I become more loving myself?

That conversation was a revelation, and ever since I’ve been on this high, becoming more & more infatuated with my dear old friend. I’m obsessed with learning more & more about him. You’d think, after growing up in Sunday School and working in church ministry, I’d already know everything I need to know, but I don’t. It’s a brand new fascination, and it’s fun. Still, I can’t help but see the irony - I have NRE with someone I’ve been in a relationship with for nearly three decades!

I hope that after being married to my husband for thirty years I find myself just as excited to get to know him again, too. Isn’t that the key to any lasting relationship - keeping it fresh and beautiful and surprising, even when you know each other so well that you clip your toenails in living room, or pee with the door open, or fight about washing the dishes or who left the milk out or where you’re spending the holidays that year? Jesus knows the boring, frustrating, disgusting things about me soooooo much better than my husband does, and he’s still stuck around for all these years. How can I not be thrilled by him? How can I not be thrilled with myself - after all, this Jesus guy really, really loves me.

And that’s why I found myself smiling a secret, I’ve-got-a-crush-on-you smile as I walked into Wal-mart a few days ago.