Still Searching for My Soft Gooey Center

I grew up in a family that just said what they thought. All the time. I don't ever recall any hurt feelings.
If one of us thought another was being unreasonable we told them so, in no uncertain terms.

If I was on the receiving end (as the youngest, I often was) I only remember thinking, "I guess I'm wrong." or "I won't do that again."

Our feelings were facts. You can't be insulted by facts.

The only time I found it unjust was, as a preteen, frustrated by the great disparity in treatment between myself and my teen aged brother and sister, I would declare - in tears, to my mother, "You treat me like a baby!" and she would point out my tears and say, "You're acting like a baby. When you act like a grown up we'll treat you like one."
In my frustration I couldn't explain the great injustice I felt. That I wasn't offered the opportunity to explain my position. Everything was already decided. And how could I act like a grown up if I was being treated as less?
Primarily, I didn't understand why my brother and sister had more freedom and autonomy than I.
I just wanted to be equal.

My family also operated from a position of universal awareness. Meaning, we were sort of expected to completely understand every situation so that we could evaluate every possible repercussion before a decision was made. Not that this was ever articulated. It just was.
You think in 360 degrees, so that you know how your actions are going to impact someone else.

It's sort of like mind reading.

Mom would only have to say, "There are clothes in the dryer." We knew that meant she wanted us to take them out, fold them and put them away. No need to elaborate. The message was clear.
When we were very small, if she said, "I'm on the phone." (accompanied by an exasperated glare) we knew she wanted us to shut our mouths and go in the other room and play quietly until she was done with her adult conversation. So that is what we did.

I've been out on my own for 20 years now, and I'm still learning that most other people don't operate the same way.

At first I found many, many people to be unusually over-sensitive. I still do.
I was also surprised to find that people didn't do what I expected them to do, based on the brief, blunt statements that I fired at them.

When I moved into my college dorm room freshman year, my roommate and I were chatting while I unpacked my things. She had arrived a few days earlier, her unpacking complete.
As I arranged supplies in my drawers I offered her the use of anything. But as I tucked my sewing scissors away (who knows why I even brought it?) I mentioned that it was for fabric only, "If I catch you cutting paper with it, you'll hear it from me." (that's how my mom and sister taught me to preserve the sewing scissors - and I knew that my new roommate didn't sew, so she probably needed this information.)
She nodded aggressively and rushed out of the room. She told me later that she left the room and burst out laughing at my inappropriate order! She had to get out of the room! (we are very dear friends to this day.)

I had no idea that you didn't talk to your peers that way. That was my first lesson.

In other ways, I just expected people to think as I did. When a co-worker suggested that it maybe wasn't a good idea to leave my purse out on my desk as I worked in other parts of the office - I said, "But why would anyone take something from my purse? It's not theirs." It didn't occur to me that I had some sort of responsibility to eliminate temptation for other people. I would never think of taking someone else's things - so why would anyone else (particularly my co-workers) consider it? It so clearly being the wrong thing to do.

Speaking of right and wrong. In my 20s, I worked as a reporter and news anchor - and before the newscast we all shared a room appointed with a large mirror and large counter to prepare our 'on-air' appearance. Most of us left brushes, hair dryers and cans of hairspray in that room so that we wouldn't have to cart them back and forth. One evening, the sports anchor and I were getting ready at the same time. He reached for my can of Paul M!tchell hairspray and applied it liberally to his already immovable, Brillo pad hair. He didn't even ask!!

"That's mine!" I announced bluntly and probably glared at him.
"I didn't know it was yours." he replied.
Notice there was no sense of apology there?
"Well, did you buy it?"

He was aghast.

It was so obvious to me that you don't use something as luxurious as brand name hairspray if you're not the one who shelled out the cash for it. (This is where I should tell you that small market reporters and anchors only make minimum wage - so I was on a pretty tight budget)
It was obvious to him that whatever was left out in the open was community property.

Hrumphf! I didn't spend fifteen bucks on hairspray for it to be wasted on Brillo pad hair!!

This exchange stayed with me for a while. It took me a couple more weeks to comprehend that - as a guy - he made no distinction between a $15 can of PM and $1.50 can of Suave.

Based on my upbringing, I just thought that everyone knew what I knew.

I've modified this perspective a good deal... but I am still rather blunt. I don't have the patience to coddle people. I have no use for it. I'm still learning that some people require the pleasantries that I view as contrived. I'm learning that this is why some people don't like me, (I'm always shocked!) even as I have countless loyal friends who get me and love me with fierce loyalty. As I do them.

That is what is hard to wrap my head around. If so many wonderful people love me unconditionally - how is it that others don't?

I guess that's okay. There are people out there that other people are crazy about - for whom I don't see the draw. At. all.

But what is really astounding to me is that it has taken me 38 years to understand this.
To understand that there are people who prefer to pussyfoot around, and talk in sticky-sweet voices.

And there are still other people who are much more gruff than myself. They too will soften over time.

Pray pray pray....

Oh no. A Supreme Court Justice is stepping down and now we get to see who Obama appoints.

This can't be good.
At least it's not a conservative judge that he has to replace.

Pray the Rosary without ceasing!

Falling for a Guy

Or - the modern day version of dropping one's hanky.

I finally got my non-existent butt over the park to roller-blade. Roller-blading is my cardio workout of choice. Low impact, fun & easy, with great waist-whittling properties and also very effective on the glutes and legs. So effective that I'm still feeling my glutes today - so that is awesome.

I really enjoy it.

The first year I bought my roller-blades, I actually met a guy at the park. Obviously that didn't work out - but we did date for a little while so it is in the back of my mind that I can meet men at the park.

My favorite park to blade in has a smooth paved loop, with lanes marked for walkers/runners and another for bicycles. They face opposite directions like traffic lanes (northbound, southbound). Actually, the way I see it, one lane has a little diagram of a walking stick figure and the other lane has a stick figure on wheels - which one could perceive to be a bicycle - but I take it as - people on feet and people on wheels. Since I'm blading I figure I'm on wheels and I use the bike lane. Most bladers do.

On my second lap around the 2.2 mile loop, I saw a guy that looked cute enough to want to meet. He was in the walking lane, facing me, so we passed each other quickly and any opportunity to interact was over before it began.

As I continued, counter-clockwise to his clockwise... I wondered how I could actually get a guy's attention in that scenario.

When I met that guy a few years ago, he was resting on a bench - and when he saw me go around the second time he quipped, "You should stop and look at this view!"
That was enough to get my attention. The sun was slowly dipping into the mountains and reflecting on the lake. I sat for a bit, we talked and eventually skated back to our cars and exchanged numbers.

But I didn't remember that pick-up line the other day. Instead I thought I'd do one more loop, expecting to encounter this guy again and then... what?

Um... I could fall down. Right in front of him. He'd have to stop and see if I was alright. It'd be a funny story to tell our kids - because I wouldn't tell him until after the wedding that I fell on purpose.

I chuckled over the idea while I skated. Then I thought, how do I just fall without actually getting hurt? Do I slow down and just sort of lean to one side? Won't that be obvious?
Maybe I could just drop my water bottle.
Then he could trip over it. This probably isn't going to work.

In the end, I ran into my friend Mibr on the path, and lost the opportunity to fall for the guy.

Actually, I've never made such a manipulative effort to meet a guy before. Maybe I'm getting desperate in my old age.
But you know, you live and learn.

A few years ago, I crashed my bike in a spectacular fashion. My friend Mime and I were riding down the street on our way to a trail - I hit a hole and body-slammed on the pavement with an emphasis on my chin.

A guy who was at the stop light when it happened saw the whole thing and slowed down as he passed to ask if we needed help. I was embarrassed and prideful, so I said no. As he drove away Mime glared at me saying, "You dummy, you could have met a guy!"

Silly me. I'd probably be married to him by now!

He Speaks

This week was rather miserable for me. The pity party was pretty lame - and I hope I have it out of my system.

The other night as I readied myself for bed, I wished for something comforting to read. I have a bookshelf where I keep inspiring books that I've already read or started to read. I have a tendency to have three books at a time on my nightstand - and eventually one of them gets read entirely. The others return to the shelf.

So I stood there, glancing at their spines just barely suggesting to God that He lead me to something that could still the ache in my heart. My hand reached for the title "Becoming Friends with God"
What an invitation!

As I made my way back to bed I noticed slips of paper marking random places in the book. I've been here before.
But it's not likely I remember what I read. I make a plan to start the book at the beginning, but let it fall open to a marked page first.

Oh that. A prayer I obviously wanted to remember:

Lord, help me to understand why You say no, even if it will be a difficult lesson for me to learn. Grant me the patience in waiting to understand. And God, I submit to You and will accept Your answer with gratitude and faith, even if I never understand why - because I trust You. Amen.

Isn't that beautiful? Isn't that exactly what I need to pray right now?!
Trust is the part I have trouble with. I do trust God. But I trust Him here (hand level with my eyes) and I want to trust Him here (hand reached far above my head)
But look at that. I asked God to show me something and He showed me that He wants me to trust Him.

So I've been reading a chapter or two each night and last night was something so beautiful I want to share it with you, my bloggy friend.

The writer brings us back to the Wedding of Cana. Reminding us that this wedding is not famous for the bride and the groom - we don't even know their names do we? This wedding is important because Jesus was invited. His presence there made a profound difference.

I'm going to interject here - the writer of the book is not Catholic but he reminded me of the Catholic observance that because of Jesus' presence at this wedding - Christian marriage was raised to the dignity of a Sacrament. (from Praying the Rosary Without Distractions, Copyright 1994, 2006 Dominican Fathers)

The Wedding of Cana has always been one of my favorite bible stories - even long before I knew this - or that it actually registered that it was the place of Jesus' first miracle.

Okay, going back the book now...

Mary the mother of Jesus, was among the first to discover that they had run out of wine. She immediately went to Jesus. Up to this point in Jesus' life there is no record of His ever performing a miracle. So it wasn't that she expected a miracle. Maybe she thought that He would just say something that would relieve the tension.

...

I doubt that she understood when He said, "My time has not yet come." I don't think she had a sense of the schedule that He was following from conception to crucifixion to resurrection and back to heaven again. She didn't understand all that. So when Jesus said what He said, she simply turned to the servants and said, "Well, just do whatever he says."

Mary was right. She got it. Her response teaches us a lot. Whenever problems arise, even if we've never seen Jesus do a miracle before, even when we don't understand Jesus' words and can't figure out how He will handle it - just take your problems to Him and do whatever He says.

Emphasis mine.
Again, there is my reminder to be more like Mary. If I ever want to be a mother, she's the example I should follow.

Ha. I am so impatient, waiting for God's will - I keep asking God for an outline. A syllabus would be nice. I want to be prepared, I want to know when I can expect what I expect!

Mary? Trusted God. With very little information. No outline. Just - "Let it be done unto me as you have said."

Wow. I've got a long way to go.

Also, further into the study of this miracle the writer also notes:

When Jesus does something, He does it very well. It wasn't just wine, it was the best of wine.

...

When Jesus does something special, He does it big. One hundred eighty gallons. That would have provided for a very large and a very long party!

I really like that. He does it big! Whatever I am waiting for - will be worth it. Now back to that trust issue...


Source: Leith Anderson - Becoming Friends with God - A Devotional Invitation to Intimacy with God
I should also note that in the above quotations from the book, the writer does not capitalize he & him as references to Christ. I have taken the liberty of capitalizing the references to Christ as I feel it is proper.

The Great Divide

Getting to know Mr. Dad (most recent dating prospect) a few weeks ago was the most unusual dating experience I have had. A divorced dad - who had been married for 12 years.

We brought to each other the perspective of two entirely different worlds.
He'd been married since he was 24. I've been alone since I left the security of my parent's home at age 18.

I couldn't even imagine being married at 24! In all honesty, at 24 I wasn't even interested in marriage. I was barely interested in anything but my career. I knew I wanted to get married someday - but I wanted to experience a little bit of life without school first. (can I get a hallelujah?)

Mr. Dad on the other hand, jumped right into a family. His wife had a child from a previous relationship.

As we talked about our experiences, I realized that this man had never EVER been alone. At 24 you just finished college, you're probably still living with roommates. If you're marrying at 24 you've probably been dating for at least a year or two - so you've never spent any REAL time looking for a mate.
And now, divorced with three kids - he's still never alone.

I told him once that the comment that bugs me most from married folks is, "Marriage is hard."
#1 - No kidding! Anything that is worthwhile IS hard. Big surprise.
#2 - Guess what? Being single is hard too.
Maybe just maybe, life is hard regardless of your circumstances.

After I shared this, he asked me a question that showed he realized he had no way to comprehend my point of view - but he was interested in trying. He asked, "Tell me about being single. How is it hard?"

#1 - Every day I come home to an empty house. (Never mind the empty bed)
#2 - Everything I do (work, grocery shopping, making my bed) is for me. That's not very satisfying.
#3 - There is no physical touch. No foot rub, no caress, no pats on the head or even brushing against a hand when setting the table. (as if I set a table! - ha!)

I told him that I'm sure, even in a house alone with three kids at least you get to tousle their hair when they come through the door. Depending on their ages, hugs are still a commodity. That he had no idea what it's like to live without touch.

Later he told me that those words just broke his heart for me. During the brief time we spent together he spoiled me with strong fingers rubbing my back. Almost constantly, as if he couldn't stop, and I wasn't going to stop him! It was like sensory overload.

This reminds me of the Great Divide between Marrieds and Singles.
For some reason - once someone gets married they can no longer relate to single life. I don't know if it's because they are immediately absorbed in something bigger - a partnership that really does take all their energy. Or if they just become selfish - self absorbed in a we sort of way.

What I find really odd is that - in conversations, I feel that single people can really relate to married people. We sympathize with the complications of living with another human being. We can commiserate over the challenges of a new baby. Even though we've never been married or had kids - we can relate because - well - because we come from a family. We have the experience of having parents model husband-wife behavior. We know what about our parents relationship worked and didn't work. We can apply the concept to ourselves and others.

But married people can no longer relate to singles - despite the fact that we all started out single!!

Really.
Three months after my best friend got married she actually said, "I don't know any single people."
Really?! All you knew were single people three months ago - and now you don't know any?

Maybe the moment that status changes - people seek out others with the same traits.
Like when you have only one working headlight on your car - you're more keenly aware of every other car on the road with only one headlight.

Maybe they realize that being single really was hard - and they want to put as much distance between it and them as possible.

When they do try to relate... sometimes it's absurd. They find out you have a date and they say ridiculous things like "Oh that will be fun." "This is going to the be the One."

Fun? Please. The One? Doubtful.

But most offensive are the married people who think they'd rather be single than married.
Another friend told me of a gaggle of married people, possibly trying to console her on her single status, launched into a bit about how so many people are headed for divorce and they never want to get married again.

To which I say - HA! People get divorced and within a year they are looking for someone else to help fill the empty space. Those are the people driving up the divorce rate. They say they want out and they want to be alone - but those are the very people diving into new relationships way before they are ready - and basically contaminating the dating pool for the rest of us.

To quote Thornton Wilder's Our Town - "We were meant to go through this world two by two."

If I ever do get married, I vow to never forget the struggle and pain of being single. I hope to be able to still relate to the single people in my life and at least commiserate.

The Need for Grace

Yep. I've been feeling sorry for myself lately.
It's easy to do.
I only have to think about my upcoming 39th birthday and the fact that I have no husband, no boyfriend, no children. ( and a full-time job that just went part-time. Whoo hoo. )

Never mind the affliction of renewed symptoms which are the only proof that I am a woman, in terms of a physical body - a body that will likely never prove it's feminine worth by bearing a child.
See, when Mr. Burns and I started dating in 2007 - I began experiencing pain where there had never been pain before. In my breasts.

At the same time, one of my favorite journalists - ABC's R*b!n R*berts - was sharing her experience with breast cancer - and urging women to get checked. I decided to see my doctor.
No cause for alarm. The pain and tenderness I was experiencing was not cancer. My doc said it was peri-menopause.

I was in a state of disbelief. I actually said to her, "Do you mean to tell me that I am 37 years old, finally met a man I could think of marrying - only to find out that my childbearing years are even less than I thought?!!!"

She nodded. I love my doctor, but she wasn't sympathetic - just matter-of-fact. Which is fine. Heck if I want sympathy, I'll hire a shrink. She did however, share that she went through it too - and warned me that it's really, really lousy.

Oddly enough, a year later I wasn't experiencing those symptoms anymore. I was back to normal and taking normal for granted.

But now they're back. My typically very flat chest suddenly feels as though it's bursting with lead. The water stream from my shower hurts like he!!. A bra feels like a torture device.

It's all just a reminder that my clock is ticking in an empty room. If a clock ticks in the forest and there's no one there to hear it - does it make a sound? Does it matter?

On the upside, I bought a new bra and it seems I suddenly fill a B cup. Yay me!

Enough about my b**bs. That's a bit of a sidetrack. It's really just a painful reminder of how alone I am and that I'm running out of time.

That I spent the best years of my life (and my best physical condition) practicing abstinence - all the while watching people who don't share their faith, don't live for God and surely don't practice abstinence - getting everything EVERYTHING that I pray for.

I grouse that while I am certain my reward is in heaven - it would be nice to get some reward on earth.

I know. I'm a real piece of work!

But in the end - as much as I mutter about it - I wouldn't change what I do for the Lord. I don't exactly regret it. In actuality, I'm not abstinent for the reward. I do it because it's the right thing to do. And tempted as I may be sometimes - it's not as if I'd rather be a hoochie. When you know the right thing to do - you can't just turn around and do the opposite because it's easier. Even if it is easier.

So, in the midst of my pity party I clicked on the blog of one of the angels of the Internet - Angie at Bring the Rain.
She shared the beautiful Easter story that she reads her girls from their children's bible.

They nailed Jesus to the cross.

"Father, forgive them, " Jesus gasped. "They don't understand what they are doing."

"You say you have come to rescue us!" people shouted. "But you can't even rescue yourself!"

But they were wrong. Jesus could have rescued himself. A legion of angels would have flown to his side-if he'd called.

"If you were really the Son of God, you could just climb down off that cross!" they said.

And of course they were right. Jesus could have just climbed down. Actually, he could have just said a word and made it all stop. Like when he healed the little girl. And stilled the storm. And fed 5000 people.

But Jesus stayed.

You see, they didn't understand. It wasn't the nails that kept Jesus there.

It was love.

Yes. I may grumble about my cross. But as Angie pointed out - it's not the religion - but the relationship that keeps me close to Christ.
I do what I believe because I love God! (if you can see that through my grumbling, you are blessed with a pure heart! That's for certain!)

I know my problems don't sound as great as Angie's or Christ's or R*b!n R*berts' or many, many other people's - but they are mine. My afflicted life is the one with which I encounter the world - so even though it may not seem so terrible to anyone else - it is my cross. Every one's cross looks lighter by comparison. Admit it, you think so too.

It's just that in so many ways, this is not the life I imagineed. Being alone. Struggling just to get by.

Meanwhile -I pray for the grace to carry my cross without the whining. Maybe one day, I'll catch up.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter! This Glorious, Glorious Day.

Sorry - I can't create a video link - but enjoy this beautiful version of Were You There.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9J8PBY04gTU

Pppllbbt!

I'm feeling pretty lonely right now.
Another holiday alone.
Yes, a friend invited me to have Easter dinner with her family, and I may still take her up on it - but for right now, I'm just not feeling it. Sometimes it's uncomfortable to insert yourself into someone else's family.

I am thinking of a friend of mine back home - who was frazzled getting her house ready for her parents, step parents, brothers, sisters, in-laws and all their kids. And I can't feel sympathetic for her. HER FAMILY comes to her for holidays. Ya know why? Cuz she has a family.

My family will never come here for Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving. At least not until I'm married and probably not until I have kids. Gotta lay that golden egg ya know.

And married - may never happen.
Things with Mr. Dad look like they're fizzling. That's normal. Things are always really sparky and exciting at first - but as per usual it doesn't last.

Then there is Mr. Burns. He's been calling and asking me to dinner, and to go on walks and stuff with him. We went out for dinner a couple weeks ago - I thought he would have something he wanted to tell me - but no - he just wanted to enjoy my company.

Then he wanted to take me to his place to show me his new furniture and how he's been improving his house. (is he finally nesting?) When there, he said things like - "If we end up together we'll put this here - that there. We'll have to modify this closet."

I looked at him seriously and said, "How can you say things like that? 'If we end up together?'."
He says he is thinking about his future and that he pictures me in it.

Well isn't that a nice piece of torture? Why wasn't he thinking like this while I was thinking that way?

The last time he called, wanting to walk in my favorite park, I had plans with Mr. Dad. I didn't say anything that specific - but I also didn't say that my plans were with any of my girlfriends.
I think he figured it out.

And before we got together for dinner a few weeks ago - I took his phone calls spouting pure vinegar. A bit of hostility. I'm still angry that I'm not planning a wedding.
I'm a little pissed that I'm turning 39 this summer and still looking for a husband! A bit of that anger is directed at Mr. Burns because he should have realized he didn't want me and let me go a year earlier.

And worst of all - though I try to deny it - some of my anger is directed at God, because I feel like He's holding out on me. Or that He sold me a bill of goods (everyone gets married - everyone but YOU!) that He won't make good on.

Clearly I have the wrong attitude. Right now I don't know how to change it. Today I don't know how to change it. Some days are better than others. This is a tough one.

as for home for Easter - I can't afford it. I just spent $300 getting my taxes done. I'm planning to go home in May for my niece's graduation - and a 20 hour drive each month just isn't that appealing - or affordable considering my reduced hours.

Pity Party - right here.

Happy Easter though.

Am I Worth It?

Okay. I'm humbled now. After my little outrage at the guy I didn't like this morning, Jesus reached out from the cross to humble me.

The Catholic church has services on Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday prior to Easter. I was asked to read scripture for our Good Friday service which includes Veneration of the Cross.

For veneration, the church assembles as if for communion, and each individual stops to touch, or to kiss the cross in reflection of what Jesus' sacrifice means to them.
It's interesting to watch people. Some seem timid and just touch the cross and then cross themselves. Some reach out and embrace the cross (ours is a very large, almost life-sized cross) and plant a kiss. Some genuflect, touch the cross and move on.

I saw a teen aged girl approach the cross, wearing a t-shirt with the words, "When He was on the cross, you were on His mind." emblazoned across the back.
Wow.

Veneration takes longer than Communion, because the two lines are served with just destination.
At last, the final person approached the cross. It was a young man with Down Syndrome, who I recognize as he and his parents sit within a pew of me every Sunday. He's a sweet young man who loves to sing at Mass and was thrilled to finally serve as an altar boy last year.

When he approached the cross, he reached both hands to the arms of the cross, in a sort of tender embrace. As if tenderly touching a dear friend in need. His head bowed - a heavy realization evident. It was the most beautiful connection of all the people I watched tonight. (I know I should have been praying myself) I thought to myself. He really gets it.

I was so touched by the intimate understanding displayed by this young man who I view as such an innocent. I smiled inwardly and contemplated the message.

Then he sat in the pew behind me - and started to sob.


Each year Easter is a little different for me. Sometimes I am overwhelmed by the sacrifice. Some years I really get it. This year, I'm a little self-absorbed, I admit. Constantly questioning why God doesn't bless me with the basics of marriage and family or at least a full-time job.
With that attitude - am I worth it? Am I worthy of Christ's great sacrifice? I know He thinks so. But I'd better start acting like it.

Just Not Worth It

This is the first week that my shortened hours at work have gone into effect, so I...
(oh did I not tell you? That perfect job that I love so much and struggled 14 months to find - cut my hours in half. Trying to figure out what God wants me to learn. He's a barrel of laughs isn't He?)

Anyway, so now I have Fridays off and I decided to be productive today. Scheduled a hair appointment and pulled all my tax related documents together - because hi - only 5 more days! And -hi- five different employers and unemployment benefits is too much for me to try to work out on my own.

I was out the door before 10:00 to go get my haircut. It's lovely, thanks for asking.
Then I stopped at a very well-known tax prep agency - you know it by the big green square. I walked in and noticed that the one guy available was the guy I encountered last year - and remembered that I didn't like him. Hmmm.

He asked if I had an appointment and I thought - nah - of course not, this is the big green square - who needs an appointment? Okay, I might have said that aloud.
Then he proceeds to check their computerized schedule to find an opening for me - since he had someone coming in shortly. Maybe this evening? No, I have church - it's Good Friday you know. Tomorrow? Oh well, he says, let's get started and you can come back tomorrow to finish up.

Well okay, that's at least a start.
So he proceeds to ask me questions and has me sign a pile of forms before we get started.
I thought it was odd that I was signing forms before we started - but hey he's squeezing me in so oh all right.
Then I realized I was rushing because he was squeezing me in - and I thought it better to actually read the forms. But I still felt compelled to rush, so I didn't like the position I was in. Very uncomfortable.

So says I: "Gee, I don't remember signing forms before we get started."

He says, "Yes, you have to."
He said something else - kinda snotty that I can't remember. So I responded, very slowly... "Yes, I understand that. I am just saying that I only remember signing the forms when we are done, and this seems odd to me."

One sheet asked me to check all the services he could sell me during my tax prep, and I thought - I don't want to buy services - so I didn't check any, and then asked him where I am supposed to sign.

"You have to check 'select all'."
"But I don't want you to sell me services."

And rather than try to explain it to me he just said, "Everyone has to."

Oh and did I mention that at one point, a big gob of spit fell out of his mouth and onto the papers I was signing?
Eeew.

I am not really able to explain just what bugged me SO MUCH about him... but KIMA says that it's the people that you don't really know why they bug you, that have personality disorders. That makes sense to me!

But remembering that I didn't like him last year... and that just 5 minutes into this tax prep stuff the whole thing was so unpleasant, I didn't even want to continue was enough for me.

I stood up, collected my paperwork and told him. "You are being really snotty to me and I don't appreciate it. I will just go someplace else."

His response, "Well if that's the way you feel about it."

UGH!
"Yes, that's the way I feel about it."

He started to say something else - and at this point I didn't want to hear anymore. And everything that came out of his mouth seemed condescending and just snotty snotty snotty.

I said, "Now would be a good time to stop acting snotty. And this stuff that has my signature on it... I'm taking it with me."

As I walked back out to my car I wondered if I had sort of lost it! But I rationalize that since just the sight of him today reminded me that I didn't like him last year is justification enough. In the grand scheme of things, there is no point spending an entire hour with someone so unpleasant. I mean, taxes are unpleasant enough right?

Maybe it was also the pressure of feeling rushed. His horrible coffee breath. His lack of customer service pleasantries. It all was too much to put up with.

Have you ever had someone just rub you the wrong way from the get-go? Did you stay and put up with it - or did you just leave like I did?

Single Ladies

Friends,

Please go visit ErinAnnie over at Chaos today. She writes very poignantly about her single experience - and I know there are many of my bloggy friends who can relate and find ministry in her words.

If you're not single, you might want to visit as well so that you can better minister to your single friends.

Done Right

The first year I lived in Colorado, I experienced the biggest snow storm of the century. In all, 3-4 feet of snow.

This was also the first year that I wasn't working in TV news, so on the first day of the storm, I dug my car out of a foot of snow and went to work. No one was there. Apparently, when you don't work in news - you stay home in a foot of snow. In news - you get your sorry butt to the station! and tell the city that it's too dangerous to be out.

Most of the city was snowed in for 2-3 days. Some of the suburbs were stuck longer because they were outside of the city snow removal plan.

When one of my co-workers came back after digging out for 5 days - she complained about cabin fever. Oh it was just awful, they were trapped in their house for 5 days!

My ponderings:
"You were trapped with your husband."
Yes.
"The man with whom you are trying to have a baby?
Yes.
"And you were bored."
Yeah, it was awful.
"Uh, speaking as a single woman - you're doing it wrong!"

She didn't appreciate my perspective in the slightest!

Present day:
I had a date with the new guy on Friday night. It went very well. We talked about my driving to his town on Sunday to visit. It was, after three dates - my turn on the interstate.

Forecasters had predicted a nasty storm Friday night - but it didn't hit. They blamed a sneaky front and said it was coming Saturday afternoon instead.

Here is where the story gets a little unbelievable. He called me Saturday morning with the suggestion that I come down early and get snowed in with him.
(stunned shock)
When a man conjures up such a romantic thought - my tendency is to jump in and see how it plays out!
(Disclaimer: He has a "mother-in-law" apartment connected to his house - so I knew I would sleep there and remain chaste!)

So I drove down, let him make me dinner and start a fire in the fireplace. We snuggled on the couch all night, talking, ahem -kissing and watching the snow fall. I don't think I've ever experienced such a romantic setting! Pinch me.

I slept in the apartment and awoke to morning light bouncing off the snow and streaming into the windows. Outside, was a glorious scene of fresh snow circling all the looming Poderosa Pine trees on his property -nothing else in sight- their spiky shadows cast about in shades of grey on the fluffy, undisturbed snow. Gorgeous!

And that - ladies and gentlemen - is how to properly get snowed in.
Results may vary if you are blessed with the Sacrament of Marriage - wink wink.

A Bit Too Much

When I was in third grade, my mom caved in and bought me a blusher compact to play with - probably so I wouldn't abscond with her or my older sister's make up. Mom didn't tell me not to take the makeup to school, so I did. Then on a bathroom break, I showed a friend my indulgent treasure and we decided to put it on.

You'd better believe we were heavy handed about it. In our 10-year-old minds we looked sophisicated. We returned to class with huge streaks of bright pink emblazoned on our cheeks. Sister Magdelita was shocked at the two little harlots and we both ended up in the principal's office!

Growing up with my sister, I watched her apply makeup. Sometimes she would experiment on me.
I got a big talking to when I decided to try out mom's razor on my hairy little legs.

There were appropriate times for these milestones and I was expected to wait.
It was made very clear that I was expected to wait until high school for makeup privledges.
Getting my ears pierced when I reached 6th grade was a big deal.
Mom forced some perms on me. Highlights weren't even an option until I paid my way through college.

And honestly, I never even had a manicure until my 20s. Pedicure at 31. (not counting my fruitless efforts at home)

So what is going on with kiddos and teenagers today? Shannon at Rocks in my Dryer led me to this story: How our obsession with beauty is changing our kids.

Are parents just that more indulgent these days? And what are teaching kids about accepting their appearance? To me it's just as disturbing that all these things I have considered luxuries in my life are de rigour for 8 year olds these days!

Real Women Keep Their Mouths Shut

I was a skinny kid.
Lots of kids are gangly and scrawny when they are small. At least we were in the 70s. Nowadays I see seven-year-olds who boarder on obese and I think there is no excuse for that. Get your kids off the couch people. Feed them food from the garden - not from a box! But I digress.

Yeah, I was a skinny kid. I didn't know just how skinny until adolescence. Because then - someone told me e v e r y d a y.

"Oh you're so skinny." "Oh you're lucky. You're so skinny."
In junior high when the other girls with fat potential were developing breasts and I was still a beanpole - I started to feel bad about being skinny. Sometimes I felt guilty.

There were programs on 20/20 that profiled people who had trouble losing weight. This was a new problem, apparently in the early 80s - maybe it was the advent of fast food restaurants in every small town and packaged foods for convenience. But I would watch these shows and feel bad for being skinny - so I'd scoop a huge bowl of ice cream to make up for the injustice of my size.

Each day after school I would eat 6-8 slices of toast buttered on both sides because I had heard that butter made you fat.

In high school, other girls pointed out how skinny I was. Once, in sewing class, where we measured ourselves so that ours projects would fit, I bemoaned my measurements because I knew they weren't 'womanly'. Another girl disagreed with me. "You have such a cute figure."

"Figure?!" I scoffed. "I don't have a figure. I'm a stick." Everyone laughed. Probably uncomfortably.

Other girls called me anorexic... and claimed it was a compliment. "You're so lucky, you're anorexic."
This was shocking to me. A compliment?! You just told me that I have the appearance of a mental and physical disorder!! If I said you looked like an alcoholic would you take it as a compliment? For the record, I was never anorexic. I could put away a lot of food - but I was still skinny.

Then in my college years, came the defense of curves as 'real women'. Those skinny model b!tches were the enemy. Real women have curves.

Does that mean I'm a fake woman? Because I don't have curves?

As a result, I've never felt very feminine. No breasts, no hips, no curves and in the past few years I've lost my butt too! Add to that many, many years of sexual abstinence and the result is - I rarely ever felt appealing as a woman. Men don't oogle skinny chicks. Particularly flat chested chicks who don't put out!

Now that I'm rapidly approaching 40 ( just a little more than a year away) and the clock is ticking the final count of my reproductive years - I have an incredible longing to have children, mostly to experience pregnancy and childbirth and nursing. Because that is what God created the female body to do. That's real.

Sometimes I feel like that will be the one thing that really makes me feel feminine.

Last night in a very long, very fascinating phone conversation with the latest guy I'm dating - we talked about so many things.
He has three kids, and we talked about whether I would want to have kids, and if he remarried, is he open for more children considering the brood he already has? (he is)

He asked me about my dreams... what do I really want? I told him that I still want what the world sold me as inevitable - I want to be married and have kids. I told him that I feel part of the reason I want that so badly- particularly the experience of pregnancy and childbirth - is because I've never felt really feminine - growing up skinny and being a non-curvy woman.

I was surprised to hear the shock in his voice. I realize now that a man can't understand that. When he looks at me he sees all woman. He even said that I must be curvy because he can't understand being attracted to me if I actually resembled the boyish figure that I see in the mirror!

That had to be uncomfortable for him to hear me describe myself that way. And he'll never really know what I mean. Maybe none of my bloggy friends ever will either.

Every so often I realize, when it comes to men - real women should just keep their mouths shut!

Seconds

Once upon a time I met a guy. Friends introduced us at a party at their home. He got my number and said he'd call. And despite the fact that my jaded, bitter self had long since accepted that any guy who says he's going to call - isn't - I was confident that he would.

In fact, he called me the very next evening. I was impressed. When I met my girlfriends for dinner the following evening I announced, "I met him."
I was sure that I had met my husband. It's all over but the white dress.

Two years later, I'm two years older and back in the dating pool.
Up until now I figured I would find a man who, like me, had never married and never had kids. Back in my 20s I declared that I didn't want to be any man's second anything.

It only seemed fair that if I had waited for the right man - that he also waited for me.

But it's time to be realistic. I'm 38 for a few more months. How many guys in my age range - even Catholic ones - have never been married? Or had kids - on either side of marriage?!!!

While I take pride in the fact that I didn't marry any of the wrong men, I am now in a position to consider men of divorce on a case by case basis. If I find a guy who is divorced, for valid reasons - who hasn't abandoned his children, who is just a clear cut good man - well, that's a not a bad package.

Honestly, at various points in my life I had the harsh realization that I would be ahead of the game or at least caught up if I had at least had a failed marriage.
Being single this long - people think there is something wrong with me - if I were divorced at least I'd be 'normal'.

Who Will Announce Spring?

I am chomping at the bit for spring around here. We've had some warm days mixed in with the pull-out-the-heavy-coat days. Today was a warm one. Praise the Lord.

After work, I went for a few laps around the small walking path in the park a block over.
Between my condo building and the park is a medical building with a small parking garage. For the past five years the grounds were overgrown and downright neglected. Among the growth is a lilac bush. My favorite.

Even the lilac bush, when it blooms, looks a bit worse for the wear. There is evidence that every passer-by, including me - tears a bloom or two away. I know this because when I go over with my shears, I have to clip the gorgeous fragrant blooms from the top. There are no blooms anywhere but the top.

It's too early for blooms here. Leaves haven't even started their struggle to the ends of the branches.

Today as I walked home from the park, I noticed that the landscaping around the parking garage was really spruced up. Much pruning is evident.

As I approached, I kept a keen eye out for the lilac bush. In the past, all the bushes sort of grew together, and I had to discern now which one was the prize.

When I determined the bush, I realized... someone really hacked it up! I wondered if the person who wielded the shears even knew it was a lilac bush. It's half the size it was!!!

Now I wonder - will the pruning push forth more blooms? Or will it take a few years before it's ready to get it's bloom on again?

Is my harbinger of spring even capable of making the announcement?

Paper Crane Frock GIVEAWAY!!!!

Paper Crane Frock GIVEAWAY!!!!

Well, after spending money on something frivolous... I'd love to win this frivolous, frilly and lovely dress.

So excited! It's exactly my size!

Click the link above to see it - or enter for yourself. Although I'm sure you don't want to ruin my chances!! hee hee.

I'm Outta Control

Stopping at T*rget tonight to pick up face wash, spray starch and some baby shower gifts... I did the unthinkable.

I bought a swimsuit.
At full price no less!

Grrr.

I was just about to leave. In fact, I was on my way to the checkout when I saw the suits. They sucked me in with a darling, modest swim skirt. Not the frumpy, "My mom had that swim skirt in the 70s." swim skirt. This one was just barely a skirt. Modest yet a little s*xy.

I thought, "How practical. I'm getting old you know, almost 40. My derriere isn't as firm as it used to be, that bottom would cover plenty of imperfections. "

(it's adjustable - it can be just a bit longer than shown in this photo - which is so obviously not me!)

But, black or brown? Black would go with almost any top I would find. But I really like the brown. Hmm. Might as well try it on. Might as well grab a top.

Oh gee. Look at the tankini tops. That would hide the tummy that I'm too lazy to tone. But I can't possibly buy them both right now. You know they'll be marked down to $7 in a month or two. But this is T*rget. If you don't get your size now - it's not going to be here in April.

My friends. I don't even swim. I haven't been to the beach, or to a pool or even a hot tub in years. I do not need a swim suit. Other than the fact that all my other barely ever worn - and certainly not for more than sunbathing suits - are bikinis and I don't like my body enough right now to even think about wearing them.

Besides, I'm on C*tholic M*tch now and by summer I'll be dating some great guy who wants to take me up to the mountains to sit in the hot springs. Right?

Yeah. So I bought a swimsuit.

Brown, by the way.

Idiot.

Every Girl Needs Support

This still makes me laugh - I have to share.

My girlfriends and I were talking about the approach of swimsuit season, and the conversation turned to V!ctor!a's Secret swimsuits. Each of us had one at one point and were mostly satisfied.

One friend protested, "Ugh. No. V!ctor!a's Secret swimsuits are awful!"
Heads swiveled her direction. What on earth could be so bad about them? Considering the rest of us had positive experiences.

She continued... "They have absolutely no support!"

Three of us responded in confused shock. "Support?" You could tell that internally we were all thinking "What does support have to do with swimsuits?" Then we all burst out laughing.

Three A cup gals questioning the one gal with an actual bosom!!

4 X 4 Photo Phun!

Maggie tagged me!

Considering my love of photography it was not hard to comply.

Here are the rules: go to your computer and open the fourth photo folder, then click on the fourth photo and post it. Put in a little explanation of what it is and then tag four other people.

I really had no intention of cheating... but the fourth folder was full of photos I did for a 'customer' and I didn't feel right putting that up without a release. So I figured, maybe I'd go to the 5th folder, but that was also of a photo session for a friend. Same issue.




So I settled on file #3 ...









This is my Dad's 75th Birthday party. We held it in the indoor arena on our family ranch. My brother hired a guitar duo to play all evening, and this was just after a round of 'Happy Birthday'. Here you see a bunch of my relatives and family friends. That is just a fraction of the crowd. Dad said he felt like he was at his own funeral! All the people!

That's my dad in the cowboy hat and suspenders. My mom is the light brown head right under dad's head, clapping in the tan toned shirt.

For the sake of spontaneity, and fairness I counted down four more files and the fourth photo there is...





The final odometer reading on my car that died an unexpected death last August.

RIP Gracie.





So... who to tag? I'll start with Keli - and as she is a photographer I'll give her a pass on any client photos but I'm guessing her hard drive is more organized than mine!

And Bobbi... and... Ronnica they are both sure to have something fun. Finally... hmmm someone new who is following my blog... Oh I know... this will be exciting because of her exotic locale... Caribbean Shulamite!!!
Watch... she'll find a picture of her bathroom or something.

Have fun!

I Don't Know

I'm not sure if I'm ready to share this... but something compels me to tap it out on the keyboard. Maybe I just need to journal it for myself.

Mr. Burns and I have been talking. Since a month and a half after we broke up, we've been talking about once every two weeks. Sometimes more. Usually for an hour at a time.

I haven't exactly been kind to him either. My heart is still hurt. So much so that he has asked if I have any good memories of our relationship. Sure. But it does me no good to dwell on that right now.

At first, it was him telling me about the part of the him that wants to be the man to put a ring on my finger and keep me forever. But then there is the part of him that just doesn't know.

I finally told him to keep it to himself.
"You, on the fence is not news. I don't need to hear about it. It's hurtful." It's insulting is what it is. "If you ever decide to get off the fence and pick a side... that I'd like to hear about."

Once I said that, I didn't hear from him for two full weeks.
Then he called and told me that he thinks about me often. He misses me. He really loved sharing his life with me and he misses that.

He told me that the night we broke up... he pulled the car over on the way home, crying. He almost turned around and came back. I wonder what would have happened if he had. He said that he wasn't ready for us to break up, but he accepted that it was what I needed. True. I couldn't take the status quo anymore. Working so hard for nothing to change.

Now, as he thinks about just what a good match we were, that maybe we should try to make this work.

I asked him if he was just sharing thoughts, or if he was asking me something. He didn't have an answer for that.

I did tell him that there is a lot that is broken that needs to be repaired. If we would try to get back together, repair is the first priority. But I didn't say that we would.

Last night, I talked to friends from church, a couple who has been married for at least 15 years.
The husband told me, "The reason a man doesn't get married is either he doesn't love her or he thinks someone better is out there."

Hmmm.

So I put that criteria before myself.
Do I love him? I think so. I'm still hurt, and I don't know if what I'm feeling is hurt or not loving him.
Do I think I might find someone better?
You know what? Sometimes I do think that there might be someone as good for me or better out there - but I am quite certain I won't run into that guy for another 30 years.
I am not being sarcastic. Or funny. Or glib. Or defeatist. Or obstinate. I really believe it. That guy is not showing up until I'm at least 60.
So if I'm with Mr. Burns for the next 20-30 years, I won't be looking that other guy anyway.

And who knows what life brings. Maybe I'll need someone else when I'm 68.
Maybe it's worth seeing if this will work.
But I'm not giving Mr. Burns more than 3 months this time - unless I'm absolutely positive he is ready to go where I am ready to go.

If he decides to ask me a question, I think I'll tell him that he has permission to pursue me.
Show me what ya got.

At least, that's what I think right now.

Success!

The quest for the perfect pair of jeans... forget it... a pair of jeans is excruciating. I can't even tell you how long I have been looking for a pair of jeans. I think it comes close to two years. Not kidding. My old reliable pair is about to lose the riveted button from wear - and you know once that's gone, there's no replacing it. I have to find jeans now.

I buy maybe a pair of jeans a year, probably even less. I'm learning I might as well spend more money on jeans - cuz that breaks down to something like .0000001 cent per wear! There was a year that I had great success at TJM*xx and bought 2 or 3 pairs. There have been times that it was way easier (and more relaxing) to search for a bathing suit than it was to find jeans.

It must be hard for everyone because I'm a size 3 with a teeny tiny butt, and from what I read and hear, that's supposed to make it easy. I am here to witness to you - it doesn't. It just goes to show that everybody has their challenges.

And I'm picky. I hate the jeans with faded streaks at the hips or other accent points. Can they please stop doing that?! Please. I don't want jeans that have strategically placed rips, strategically patched or stitched over. Please. I'm a grown up and I might want to wear my jeans to work on occasion, without looking like I walked out of some hip hop video.

That is the special challenge of my size, I only fit in the jr's department. Hard to look like a grown up when you're wearing teenager's clothes! Everyone says they would love to have that problem - okay - how about you walk in my shoes for 30 years and then check back with me?

You might have guessed that I am here to announce that I found a pair of jeans! Yay me! Luck of lucks, they were at M*cy's in the high fashion section - marked down from $120 to $39.99!! Good thing too because I have to take them to the tailor for hemming. Cost estimate to come...

I can't find the exact jeans to show you but they look a lot like this:


Ahem... my butt does not look like that.


I love the trouser style. Grown up. Stylish, but conservative enough for this nearly middle-aged woman to wear to work once in a while. Lucky me. And yeah... there was only one pair left on the rack. Boo.

While I'm at it, let me show you the super-cute, yellow peep toe heels I found for $14.


















and the silver strappies for $15. Awesome!



















Oh, and remember when I was looking for the perfect winter nightie? I ended up with this beauty from G*P B*dy. Not bad eh?


Just doing my small part to help the economy.
Now if only it were spring so I could get out of these winter clothes and start wearing those yellow shoes!!!

Yeah, I Went on a Chocolate Run. So?

This afternoon, I poked my head into my bosses' office, "I'm going out for chocolate. I'll be right back." I told him.

He didn't bat an eye.

For a woman who never once craved chocolate before I turned 30 - the craving I had today completely rocked me.

I'd had a good lunch, even had some leftover and put it in the office fridge.
When I felt hungry 40 minutes later I knew I wasn't actually hungry. I wanted something... carby... and chocolate. I need cake!

I tried to ignore it for another 4o minutes but my body was insistant.
Day two of Mother Nature's annoying gift. I need cake. Chocolate Cake.

There is a grocery store near my office. I was sure I could buy a slice. But you know - you can't trust that grocery store cake to be chocolate or even chocolate flavored. Sometimes it's just brown cake. That would not do.

My car took me straight to the nearest St*rbucks. When I walked in the door, two double chocolate cupcakes with thick chocolate frosting greeted me cheerfully. I'll take both of them.

Oh... it was so good!
Soooooo gooooood.

And I'm proud to say there is still one cupcake left to tempt me on Ash Wednesday.

I've Been Tagged!

Bobbi tagged me in a purse Meme! I'm supposed to take a picture of my purse and all it's contents.

I have to admit that I chastised her a bit- because the inside of my purse was a wreck - and I've been looking for new purse for the latest Huge Purse trend. Oh - to shame myself with my old purse!

So here goes. This is my current purse. It's a Nine West that I picked up at either TJM*xx or R*ss - possibly a year ago.

I've received many compliments on it - but I'm over it now. We're in a recession - it's time for a huge purse! (Honestly, it's a sociological trend! When economic times are bad - purses get bigger and hemlines get shorter - I think. I may be confused on the hemline bit)

Here are the contents. Actually, it looked much less messy once I laid it all out. Apparently a purse inspection is great for organizing one's purse!

1 - My cell phone

2 - Pile of receipts

3 - Hair options. I carry them but rarely use them.

4 - Food Allergy list. I carry it for restaurant use, to show waitstaff when I'm selecting a dish. Yes, there are two categories, one=deadly; two=severe discomfort, potential anaplylaxis & hives!

5- My wallet. It's HOBO International. I just love it! Bought on vacation.

6 - another little wallet that snaps closed. This is where I keep my shopping club cards, gift cards and so forth.

7 - photo of a friends baby that she just gave me the other day. (the photo not the baby!)

8 - It looks like a matchbook, but it's actually a little pad of paper. Never know when you need to write a note.

9 - Claim ticket from the tailor. I took two belts in to be shortened.

10 - Also looks like a matchbook - rather it's a little case of small emery boards that tear out like paper matches.

11 - my work badge. It gets me into the courthouse without having to stand in line for the metal detectors!

12 - various business cards accumulated in the past month.

13 - spare car keys

14 -nail clippers. I always have splits that I must cut just to continue on with my day.

15 - my favorite gum. Eclipse, Winterfrost

16 - a little envelope intended to contain notes and receipts.

17 - Blistex - I can't go 40 minutes without reapplying & Buxom lip gloss - it was a free sample. I like it.

18- a pack of oil blotting tissues. Again, kept in my purse but never use them!

19 - mechanical pencil - I usually have a pen in there but not today.

So now that I've shamed myself with my purse contents - I have to show off my new huge purse!

Do you suppose that I love Orange? It's a brand called Emilie M. I have several bags from this maker - I always find them at TJM*xx & R*ss and I assume it's one of the makers that knocks off the high-end bags. Because these are never made of real leather and they are around only $19.99! I would rather have a selection of affordable bags that I don't mind getting tired of - than one expensive designer bag. But that's just me.

Here are both bags together to emphasize the size difference!

And I'm going to tag... hmm.... I'm dying to see Katie's bag and .... let's see... Melanie from This Ain't New York! (I happen to know she just went to Target! She got shoes, it's no stretch to guess she has a new bag.)

Beg, Borrow - Pray

While I was unemployed (through 2008 and much of 2007) I was at once panicked and unaffected about money concerns. Either I was too dumb to know to be worried, or too confident that I would be okay.

To be honest, I had a few thousand dollars in savings to live on - but let's be real here - $2,000 or $3,000 doesn't last 14 months. Not with a mortgage to pay each month.

Still every month I was able to make that mortgage payment, and buy groceries, and put gas in my car. Every. Month.

My friends thought I was some sort of genius with money - but if you really know me - you know that sure ain't true! Every month, I would look at my bank balance and PRAISE GOD. It was SO God providing for me. No other way to explain it.

When, after all those months I was finally in contention for a real job - I prayed and prayed. If you remember, I was one of three candidates that they took 3 weeks to decide between. I told the Lord that I recognized that I did all I could do. I'm qualified, I interviewed, and they are seriously considering me. It's out of my hands God, it's in Your hands. You know if this is the right job for me - so I will trust when I hear the news - whether I get it or don't get it - that it is Your plan.

After seeing God miraculously provide for me all that time, I was shamed into recognizing that I never, never in all my adult years took Tithing seriously.

A journalism degree does not beget loads of money. It doesn't even beget a sufficient living wage.
I always rationalized that I couldn't give up 10% of my income because I had to eat. Until recently I never put money in a 401k - not even when there was a 50% match - because I couldn't trust that I could get by with what would be left. And to be honest, things were always tight. I would borrow $100 or $200 bucks here and there from my parents just to maintain my car or pay my rent. No way could I put $100 bucks in the collection basket at church.

But I had 14 months to witness God providing for me and I promised Him, when I got a job I would give Him back 10%. It's definitely time.

Well, funds were low those first few months of employment. It took a few weeks to even get my first paycheck, then there was Christmas and traveling home. Funds were mysteriously thinner than when I was unemployed.

So January was my first month putting 10% in the basket.
I'll admit it was hard to write that check. I prayed over it, and I told God, "Seriously, this isn't easy." It was hard right up until I dropped that envelope in the basket.

Outside of insurance, mortgage payments and other bills, I NEVER drop that amount on anything.

I get paid this week, and this is the paycheck from which I write my Tithing contribution.

At the same time, I'm thinking about that plane ticket home for my niece's (The Champ) graduation in May. The rental car I'll need to drive the three hours from the airport to my hometown. My share of the laptop computer we plan to give her for college. I'm thinking about the tires I need on my car. The driver's side window that needs repairing. The credit card that paid for groceries some weeks. I'm thinking how much easier it will be to handle all that if I don't write the Tithing check each month. I think about how smart it would be to save all that money considering the economic crisis.

But then I think about how my job with the City is up for review in March. They could reduce my hours. They might cut my job. (although it's doubtful, they needed to hire three positions but only filled mine) Then I think about how God provides. And I think, probably wrongly, that if I commit to this 10% - maybe it's like insurance. God promises that what we give up will be returned threefold. Maybe God will bless me by insuring that the City doesn't cut my job despite the $56 million budget shortfall.

I have to write that check. But does it count if I do it begrudgingly? Maybe there is a grace period for getting used to Tithing.

Bloggy friends, please tell me how you do it! Inspire me. I beg you.

Then today, I am rattled to the core.

One of my favorite bloggy reads is Amy Beth at Ministry So Fabulous. She is just a young pup - 25 I think - and she has started a Ministry for young girls and teenagers. She was inspired to do this when she was in college - and now this young, beautiful woman is knee deep in an incredible ministry, teaching young women to love and trust God. Her ministry isn't glamorous. Dealing with young women, young girls she really gets her hands dirty with broken hearts, emotional and sexual abuse. This is a woman who I'm betting - is on dozens of young women's speed dial - she's a first responder when tragedy lands them in the hospital. Those girls NEED her. She is their witness to God's saving grace.

Her ministry runs on donations, and lately donors have been writing smaller checks, or pulling out all together. Today Starlite's biggest donor did just that. Dear Sweet Amy Beth is devastated and praying for God to provide.

And I'm wondering if my Tithing check should go to Starlite this month.
My church parish is on the wealthy side. They'll make it without my money.
Tonight I'm praying for God to give me some sign.

I'm also hoping Amy Beth puts together a button that I can link on my blog - so that if any of you are inspired to help her ministry - you might be compelled to do so.

She's so amazing and such a beautiful soldier for Christ - I want to see her ministry go national someday. She can't stop now.

Don't even...

Despite my better judgement, I still want to go see He's Just Not That Into You.
When the theory was first espoused on Sex and the City - it was indeed, revolutionary. My reaction was similar to Miranda's - what a relief! That's easy. Just move on.

I caught a bit of the Bonnie Hunt show one morning when I was home sick. She said that the phrase just rubs her the wrong way. How about, "He's just not mature enough to be good for anyone right now." she suggested, saying that "He's just not that into you - still lets guys off the hook and puts the blame on women."

I like her point. I suggested it to a few friends. Maybe he's not healthy enough for a relationship. Let's place the blame squarely on him shall we?

Then this weekend I spent time with one of my favorite guy friends. We are both having trouble finding love, and we are comfortable enough with one another that we can share our true feelings.

I told him Bonnie Hunt's theory. He had to agree it was valid.
I also told him how I'm too defeated to even go out anymore. That I figure I'm not going meet anyone dateable anyway, so why bother spending all that time blowing my hair out straight.

He laughed and made a play on the Deana Carter song title... "I Blew Out My Hair for This?"
I wish I could remember the other lines we came up with.
I shared some dating experiences - embellished for best hilarity - which reminded us both that I have enough material for a book. Then we started batting around titles, playing on "He's Just Not That Into You"

We settled on... Just.Don't.Even

How to Stay Single

According to my recollection - I thought Forbes came out with their Best Cities to be Single list each year around Valentine's day. I decided to contact their editor and beg them to p l e a s e leave Denver off the list this year!

Ugh. You have no idea how awful it is, as a single woman in Denver to be shot between the eyes with that ammunition in the middle of a conversation with your married friends!

You know, you're just talking about what's going on in your life and they look all confused and say, "But Denver is one of the best cities in the country to be single..." You just know they want to complete that sentence with "...so clearly it's your problem."

I've lived here for six and half years... and I figured out after three years It's the best city in the country to REMAIN single.

Seriously. I know a lot of single men. And I know a lot of single women in this city. If the high quality, gorgeous, successful, smart and fit women that I know are all on the bench (to use a sports metaphor) the men must have it pretty dang easy.

Ah. Easy. There you go. That is the precisely the problem in Denver.
The men here encounter plenty of women who think it's normal to have sex by the third date. Not only that, they think waiting 'til the third date is 'holding out'.

With pickings like that, why would men put in the effort with a quality woman who exhibits actual standards? Why would they expend any energy on a decent woman when they can just go down to LoDo, pick up some chick and get lucky that night? Who needs a relationship when those needs are met?

I know I sound defensive and whiny... but it is this knowledge that has made me a bit of a hermit since ending my last relationship um --- Oh wow --- it's almost 5 months ago! Ugh.

I find myself with such a defeatist attitude.
I think, Why should I go out? If I go out to a club tonight I'm not going to meet a nice Catholic guy, who values abstinence. One who values God's way even though it's not always instantly gratifying.

Nope. If I go out tonight, I'm just going to have to weed through the creeps I've already weeded through. They just keep growing back. (mixing metaphors now!)

I have sort of resigned myself to being alone because I'm not going to find half the man Mr. Burns is... and even Mr. Burns proved not to be enough man for me. What's the point?

And for the record, when I got to Forbes' website it revealed that they put the list out in October - and Denver is bumped down to the 20s. Praise God!

Patron Saint of the Single

With Single's Awareness Day* rounding the bend, I set out on a task from God.

I don't know if other denominations do this, but in the Catholic Church, we have a time after the Homily, and before the Eucharist in which we offer up prayer petitions.
They usually include prayers for the sick, prayers for our nation's leaders (smart move) and other special intentions followed by the congregation saying together: "Lord, hear our prayer."

It's nice. When I was a kid in Catholic school we were encouraged to add our own... we asked for rain, good crops... and when one of my cousins was pregnant (I was around 8 years old) I prayed each day for nine months that she would have a happy and healthy baby. Today he is a handsome young man, safely back from a lengthy tour in Iraq. God does answer prayers.

I know I'm not the only one who recognizes how singles are left out of almost everything at church - so today I called the church office asking for the person responsible for coordinating the petitions for this weekend's services.

When I reached her, I said that I thought it would be appropriate, in light of Valentine's day - to offer a prayer for the single adults of the parish.

I fully expected her to ask for an example - and had one prepared - but all she said was that she would have to check with Father.

Okay. At least I made my hopes and prayers known. I will report back to let you know how it went over.

But may I encourage you to do the same? Ask your priest or pastor to recognize, and pray over the pain in many lives. And if you're married - wow - it would blow me away if you could make this happen.

Here's the intention I composed in case she asked:

For the Single Adults in our parish. That they might experience God's love in a tangible way, through our church community.

or

During this season in which we witness love in our family and in our marriages, we pray for Single Adults in our parish who might instead experience the sting of loneliness. May they feel God's love in our church community.

I guess my priest's response will tell me just how seriously he takes it. He does understand, a little. Although his response is that priests feel the same loneliness. Of course I pointed out that priests choose the priesthood - we don't usually choose to be alone. Touche, said he!

Oh - and when I decided on the title of this post, I thought I'd better see whether there really is a Patron Saint for the Single (Other than Bridgette Jones! Ha ha) Turns out there are two! Guess who's going to be called upon at prayer time tonight?!!

* In case you didn't get it - Single's Awareness Day = Valentine's Day - because isn't that really what it is? Round up all the couples so you can tag the singles!!

An Actual Conversaton...

I seem to be on the recovery end of my cold. The majority of my energy is back. We'll just see how long it takes to kick this cough.

But in the height of the yuck, this conversation with my dear friend Kikr:

Me: What I don't understand - and I'm sorry if this is gross - is how you can blow your nose every 5 seconds and yet there is always more!

Kikr: Oh. I can explain exactly why. (she is an audiologist and therefore understands the mysterious things that happen between the ears and behind the nose)

Silence.

Me: So you're saying I don't want to know?

Kikr: Uh. Yeah. The answer is way grosser than the question!

I'm guessing it has something to do with that ugly mucus character from the TV commerical.


She thought it best to wait and tell me when I'm healthy - and not plagued with the disgusting reality myself!


What a good friend.

More Notes from the Sofa...

There is a fundamental quote hidden in the unlikely movie "The Object of My Affection".
The movie is about Nina (Jennifer Aniston) who falls in love with her best friend George (Paul Rudd) - who unfortunately for the love story... is gay.

Also unfortunately, Nina is pregnant and her boyfriend is a loser. She left him.
Hilarity does not ensue. It's a drawn out story of emotion as Nina watches everyone around her fall in love with someone else.

Here comes the line:

Nina's purse is snatched as she leaves the bus station. Six+ months pregnant and lacking everything in her purse - she has no way home. She ducks into a nearby police station where two handsome officers are ending their shifts. They take her report and one of them offers her a ride home.

Nina expresses her gratitude and the handsome cop says, "If I were married I would want someone to drive my wife home."
She reveals that she is not married, though obviously pregnant... and the conversation continues through the drive.

At one point she turns to him and says, "Oh, you are so nice. You should be married."
Handsome cop chuckles and says, "What? You think all nice people are married?"


That's right man. Testify!

Funny. That one little line validated me for today.
So often, I feel left behind. That I must be lacking something - if no one wants to take me as their bride and spend all his days with me.

If only I were a worthwhile person...

Of course I know that's not true. But it is hard when you spend every day of your life alone - come home from work to an empty house - and have no one in particular to call to share news or funny tidbits. No one to feel just awful for you because you are sick with the common cold.

It was just nice to be reminded that not everyone who is great is married.
It's not a reward. (even if society makes it feel that way)

And plenty people who are married are unhappy, feel stuck, feel lonely - and have no one to talk to.
And that's even sadder.

New Favorite Movie Line..

I'm wallowing on the couch with a movie marathon (courtesy: Bl*ckbuster), as I nurse my cold.

First up: The Devil Wears Prada

Laugh out loud moment: "You know what really kills me about this whole thing... is the clothes you're going to get. You don't deserve them. You eat carbs for Chrissake."

I Wrote Something... don't expect much

I'm sick.

Just the other day I realized all my friends and their children were battling colds. I thought to myself: "I haven't been sick in a while... how lucky."

And I swear I wasn't cocky about it. It got me anyway.

I just got the cold yesterday - so that doesn't excuse that I've only been to yoga two times in the past two weeks.

Today, I stayed home for the morning, intending to do what work I could from home - but went into work to do the things I have to do there. I think I'll do the same tomorrow - except I have to do the homework. Or I can tell my co-worker that I can't, and she will do it. We'll see.

Thing is, I'm 'on-call'/ 'freelance' which means I don't get benefits. No pay if I don't work. So I figured half a day's pay was better than none. Pppplllbtt.
My boss is out sick too.

My temperature is 101. Not alarming I know, but still very uncomfortable.

I really require sympathy when I am sick - so I called my mom. Her sympathy was half-hearted. Hard to summon the proper amount of pity when your daughter says. "I'm thick." It's too funny.

I called three friends for sympathy and none of them answered. None of them called back. Took every fiber of my being not to call Mr. Burns.

I know.... and I'm also a drama queen.

Lil' bit.

I'm Lame

hey friends...
sorry I've been away. I'm not really feeling like myself lately. I don't know when I'll have my silly spirit back.

But I promise I'll be back soon.

Talk amongst yourselves...