the post about after christmas

• i'm still here.
• visitors, visitors, visitors: my mom, my sister (who i haven't seen in 1.5 years b/c she lives literally halfway around the world), the in-laws, the sister-in-law, the brother-in-law. not all at the same time. the mr and i refused to travel after last year. it's just not a good time for a pastor to 'get away,' particularly if you're stuck with preaching the sunday after christmas (which i have been for the past two years... got to love being an associate at a larger church. i mean, would the world truly end if the congregation was left to their own devices? then again, i really like preaching sundays that returning college students are here).
  
• woke up on advent 4 at 3 a.m. to the mr puking. he looked awful all of sunday but didn't throw up again and was eating again by christmas eve.
  
• will never again have to preach my first christmas eve sermon. ever. yay. i ditched the notes halfway through and walked out of the pulpit. gasp! i've done that all of... twice, both occasions when someone died (once during a wedding!) and the pulpit felt too removed (it's very statuesque).
  
• have decided that netflix's watching videos instantly on the computer is pretty much the best thing ever, when your brain is too mushy to read. on wednesday and thursday, i watched hours and hours of the office, puccini 4 beginners (not so great), and sense @nd sensibility.
  

does anyone want

to tell me how it's practically december 21 already? the mere thought of that makes me feel really, really nervous.

the post with no title

the deluge of food stuffs started yesterday.

to the parishioner who wrote on the tag of the chocolate chip pie: "freezes well": i've eaten two pieces in the past twenty-four hours (it's very, very yummy), so i don't think i'm going to find out how "well" the pie "freezes."

to the parishioner who gave me slice and bake cookies so burnt and thus inedible i had to throw them away: is this a passive aggressive gesture, particularly since last year you gave me burnt chocolate chip cookies?

to the parishioner who gave me a single serving of chex mix: thank you for not giving me too much. i'm being totally and completely serious. i already ate all of it, but it doesn't feel like that big a deal, which is oddly satisfying.

the post about how i feel

in response to ppb's kind comment, asking me how i feel...

• health-wise, i feel better. i think the crud is more or less gone, after almost four days of laying around. still don't know if it was a virus or bacterial and probably never will know. i'm still slightly coughy and sniffly, but i can walk about now, and that's an accomplishment.
  
• i feel like if we have to do another funeral, my head will explode. two funerals in one week, particularly if that week happens to be during advent, is enough.
  
• i feel like the pulpit is getting an awful lot of me lately. advent 3, funeral homily, christmas eve, christmas day, sunday after christmas.
  
• i feel mediocre about my christmas eve sermon draft, and i don't want to preach it. don't worry, katherine, i won't steal yours.
  
• i feel like if my little insomnia spat doesn't end soon... well, something. i don't know.
• i feel pissed off. a couple of months ago, a youth lector changed the pronouns referring to the divine from 'he' to 'she' in the pulpit (after checking with the head lector about five minutes before the service, which to me was inadequate advance notice). she was up again last sunday, and the head lector asked her not to switch the pronouns because "some old women disguised as men" had complained. she no longer wants to read, which i can respect. i received an email from her mother saying she no longer wants to be on the lector list, either, and talking about how the episcopal church is a big tent, but now she's not so sure. this whole situation pisses me off for numerous reasons:
• don't assume, mother, that just because you personally didn't hear me defend your daughter that that means she wasn't defended. i talked with people about the divine feminine after that; i simply didn't pick up the phone to let you know about it every time i did so.
  
• i don't like that it seems that the complainers 'won' and the lector is being censured.
• i'm also not sure that i'm entirely comfortable with her switching the pronouns in a scriptural reading. other places? prayers of the people? fine. but the lector's job is to read the text as given.
  
• 'big tent' doesn't mean that everyone gets what they want publicly all the time. that'd be impossible. the bigger the tent, the more likely we'll have clashes of opinions.
  
• i would have preferred a note from the daughter rather than the mother. also, i think standing in solidarity by yourself is stupid (like people who boycott without being part of an organized boycott... ).
  
• i feel frustrated that you chose to send this email on this week. thanks.
  
• i'm not saying i'm right about any of this; this is just how i feel.
• i feel a little anxious about my mom and sister visiting. this is cleaning and entertaining anxiety, mostly, along with a little family dynamic anxiety. fortunately, the mr. is a huge help. that, and i've secured us several invitations to eat with some fairly low-stress people while they're here, too, to mix it up a little bit.
  

more than you bargained for, more than you need to know, but there it is.

the post about the crud

sometimes i'm secretly happy when i get sick. i get to stay in bed and read and watch movies, things i like to do and don't do all that often. this is not one of those times.

i have the crud. again. i just had the crud over thanksgiving. i'm in the mood to bake, paint, clean, write something slightly more thoughtful than my blog. but i have no energy whatsoever for those kinds of thing. so i'm not only sick, i'm really frustrated.

/whining.

another post

this weekend:

• got eyebrows waxed after seeing them and their hairiness in pics from campus ministry xmas party
  
• pedicure (ahhh...)
  
• visited parishioner in prison
  
• friday night potluck with presbyterians
  
• i seem to attract presbyterians. i'm not complaining. i'm just sayin'.
  
• massive cleaning-out of paper in the mr.'s crap room (yes, that really is what we call it). i went through and filed a bunch of stuff and then went through our file cabinet (and all these papers he had thrown all over the place) to the tune of one GIANT trash bag's worth. he nearly had a heart attack when he saw me in there cleaning, but i have to live here, too, and that room makes me nuts. and i was extremely generous in what i did not throw out. so there. we're going to use the paper for kindling.
  
• unfortunately, it was in the high 60s yesterday, which makes fires pretty much a non-option right now.
• i like cleaning out. not cleaning up, but giving things away or throwing them away. i find it cleansing.
  
• i married a packrat.
  
• the nutcracker. it was pretty good, all things considered.
  
• another advent wreath lighting fiasco. i am almost to the point where i want to refuse to be involved with lighting the damn thing at the main service.
• led bible study on the gospel text for this week. preaching this coming sunday. for the first time in my life, i feel sorry for john the baptizer. before, he's always just made me squirmy. you can still be called by god and be really, really, really (really) off about what that means.
  
• the mr. is doing some major structural stuff underneath the house. i can't even describe it, b/c i don't understand it.
• present-wrapping
• primed bookshelf for painting
  
• laundry
• made lentil-spinach soup. it called for three cups of water. i substituted two cups chicken broth, 1 cup white wine. it cooked down nicely, though i was nervous right after i put in the wine.
  
• weird tickly throat... had to go to sleep sucking on cough drop... wasn't i just sick?
• cat in love with (fake) christmas tree... won't stop sitting under it.
  
• yesterday: one year as a priest
• today: need to be very productive/focus at work. in the meantime, if anyone talks to me at the gym this morning, i will hurt him. i'm not feeling talkative.
  
• i'm perfectly aware that this blog has gotten fairly boring fairly quickly, which is somewhat disappointing, but i seem to be unable to muster the wherewithal to change that.
  

the post about passports

the other day, when i saw the package from the us government, i spent several seconds trying to figure out what i had done wrong. then i remembered: passport renewal. have you seen the new ones? they're rather high-tech, or at least they seem so when you compare it to the one i was issued in '98, with my picture just pasted in it, not digitally scanned.

and, on an equally important note, if anyone can figure out how to make their legs shave themselves, please tell me.

the post about guilt (extended disco version)

i love it when i live in to stereotypes, don't you? i go on vacation; i get sick. i have some type of bronchitis. meh. oh, well. what can you do?

the real question is: why do i feel slightly guilty for lounging though i'm sick and on vacation? i've seen people: dad, maternal extended family-- cousins, aunts, uncle, grandmother, oh my!--, best friend, best friend's girlfriend, lots of mom time. i wrote a sermon; i wrote newsletter articles. got the car aligned-- headed off potential flat b/c guy at tire place found nail in tire. somehow i still feel unproductive. i'm not supposed to be productive!! i'm on vacation! i'm sick! what's wrong with me?! wait; don't answer that.

most of the guilt is due to my old room at my mom's stares at me accusingly:

still
full
full
full
of
my things
my things
my things

• middle school jewelry from claire's strewn on the desk
• clothes, including the prom dress, the wedding dress, my favorite dress from high school
• books, books, books, everywhere, and nothing to read
• any and all things ballet-related, trinkets on the dresser, posters on the walls, tutus in the closet, everywhere
• dolls, including two american girls(ppb-- direct me to your post)
• drawings from art class
• reply cards from the wedding
• and i moved a lot of things out last october, into my home with the mr., but it's not enough.

is it ever enough?
am i ever done?

i'm fairly process-oriented, generally okay with not doing something concrete and tangible with, well, with my life, but every once in a while, it grates on me.

HEY! every once in a while? go. away. now. (please.)

the post about mom's house

i'm at my mom's house. i think all the major crashing i did after exams in college in this space made me associate it with sleep. i can barely keep my eyelids open, and it's not even 9 p.m. on a friday. zzz...

the post about this weekend

this weekend:

• senior voice recital of one of the college students (can't go to all of the recitals, but i go to at least one-- senior is kinda the last chance)
• painted porch swing (one coat primer, two coats exterior white)
• preaching galore: about how questions shape the answers we receive and death (freddie the leaf story for family and children's service)
  
• first fire in the fireplace
• church hosted social gathering for ppl who are the same ethnicity as the refugee family the church is sponsoring. one of the other refugee families was in a car accident on the way home-- car went off the road, the driver overcorrected into oncoming traffic on two lane highway. mother- dead. baby- dead. aunt- dead. father and 3 yr old in critical condition. to come so far to die here.
  

the post about 10 things

pastor peters tagged me, so here goes:

1) when i flip through the channels, i have a hard time not stopping on bad fashion reality TV like project runway and america's next top model.

2) the holidays are hard for me, but not for the regular reasons; they're hard b/c i miss being in the nutcracker.

3) one of my pet peeves is people who are over the age of twenty-one or so and think they're so unique that no one can understand them. come on. we're all different, sure, but come on. get over yourself.

4) i've been to every continent except for antarctica.

5) i'm completely addicted to my own endorphins. i get moody if i don't work out.

6) my in-laws and my mom went to high school together.

7) i love target, but who doesn't?

8) i wash my car about once a year. we don't water our lawn.

9) i'm going to start blogging for my job soon.

10) i think i might be getting sick, which is a total bummer.

i think everyone whose blog i read has already done this, so i'm not going to tag anyone :)

the post about giving blood

i gave blood today.

the first time i gave blood was about eight years ago, as part of a college blood drive in which ms. rev's school was pitted against its most hated sports rival. the woman who found my vein (i use the word 'found' rather loosely here) did an awful job. i could feel the needle the entire time. i was sweating profusely (not glowing, or perspiring, or whatever. sweating). i almost fainted afterwards. it was one of the most awful things i'd ever done voluntarily (voluntarily). i quickly became one of the 95% of people eligible to give blood who yet does not. plus, hated sports rival got more blood than we did; my blood-letting was all for naught.

fast forward to now. several kids in the parish have cancer (yes, more than one). one of them hosted a blood drive at a local bank probably about 8 months ago. i wouldn't go so far as to say i liked it. i mean, really. let's not kid ourselves here. it's just that giving blood wasn't the horror show i remembered it being. other than the fact that the people are always disturbed that i've been to kenya (in june 2005), and other than the fact that, in this day and age, they have to verify EACH TIME that the area is "okay" (i'm actually not convinced that i was not in a malaria zone; i also think that the malaria would have shown up by now), it's not so bad. today i got a great apron. i tried to post a pic, but it was HUGE. the apron says, "i love pumpkin pie," except it says, "I (heart) (picture of pumpkin) (pi math symbol).

the moment i saw it, i was happy that such an apron was now in my possession because...

• the mr.'s grandmother gave relentlessly to the disaster relief section of the american red cross (carried a pager and everything). he'll love that the apron is from the red cross.
• the mr. loves my pumpkin pie (yes, i bake. sort of).
  
• the mr. loves math. he bought a calculus book FOR FUN the other day. ... yeah.
• the mr. loves to cook. cooks need aprons. it's a scientifically proved fact.
  

normally i would try and wait and give it to him, but i couldn't. i put it on right as i walked in the door last night.

i wrote the kid a card: "thanks for helping me get over myself. go socks!"

the miscellaneous post

i'm feeling a little annoyed:

parishioner: are you letting your hair grow out?

me: i'm not really sure what i'm doing.(<--not just applicable to my hair, but that's okay. parishioner doesn't need to know that.)

parishioner: well, growing it out is more girly. it looks like a boy's with it short.

grr. commenting on my hair? not appropriate. unless, of course, you want to tell me how great it looks. in other news:

• went to bed and breakfast with the mr., where we did b & b type things. weird to wake up and not be able to leap out of bed (okay, stumble groggily out of bed) and immediately began chores... delicious.
  
• movie watching ruled the weekend: carlito's way, hannah and her sisters, farewell my concubine
• i'm fairly certain i left my prayerbook outside on the ground after the 10:30 service. i'm going to try to beat the rain to it. good thing i have to go back for a requiem evensong anyhow.
• the mr. and i raked the backyard for about 1.5 hours this afternoon. we'll probably have to do it again before the fall is out. this was the preemptive raking of the pine needles.
  
• the mr. is making etoufee (no, spellcheck, NOT the same thing as Stouffer's) as i write. long live cajun food.
  

the post about parish ministry

i had one of those days that made me think, wow. my job is really, really weird.

8:30 a.m.: coffee w/ rector; talked about burn-out and thank you notes
9:30 a.m.: breakfast w/ parishioner, mother of two children under the age of 4, former advertising exec at ralph lauren (not rachel green from friends)
10:30 a.m.: emails, phone calls, wrote bulletin/newsletter announcements, wrote letter to judge on behalf of a mother in a custody battle
11:15 a.m.: debriefed w/ youth/young adult minister re: frustrations
12:00 p.m.: conversation w/ lay leader/rector about vestry elections; asked that they consult DRE before trying to cancel any adult education
12:30 p.m.: lunch in DRE's office; talked about Advent/life
1:30 p.m.: impromptu pastoral conversation w/ self-described drunk bipolar cocaine addict lesbian prostitute poet
2:15 p.m.: proofread/edited this sunday's requiem evensong bulletin; phone conversation with musician for said evensong; searched for appropriate nonbiblical reading (decided to choose poem from mary olivier's thirst)
3:30 p.m.: email to engaged couple telling them no, they could not have their deposit back, since they decided to get married elsewhere since the FOB doesn't want a woman officiant
4 p.m.: hospital visit to 11 year old who had emergency appendectomy; confused parking attendant with clergy badge because, and i quote, "you're not a man." <-- i can't make this s**t up.

and yet somehow i feel like i didn't get much done. i think that's the problem with having an amorphous job that doesn't have tangible results most of the time.

the post about getting older (or not)

this past week or so, i suddenly noticed faint but definite defiant wrinkles making their way across my forehead. my skin has the nerve to be both wrinkly AND zitty? that's just so mean! i thus have became one of those late twenty somethings who uses nightcream:



i feel like this should be totally beneath me, like i should know better. but i don't. clearly. it's mostly pure vanity. to be fair to me, i'm pretty sure it's not totally beneath the church as an institution. think about it.

the thing that irritates me is that it is not as if i have the wisdom that comes with age. no, in some ways, i'm still a kid. i was an extremely picky eater as a child. my mother literally could not get me to eat. poor thing had to stuff my mouth because i lost weight during some of my well baby checks. my mom discovered the wonder condiment: ketchup. i began to eat. to further complicate matters, i later had a butterfly retainer cemented in my mouth when i was something like three years old. i didn't have an underbite; i didn't have an overbite; i had a sideways bite from sucking my left pointer finger. so for a few months all i ate was campbell's tomato soup, instant grits, and applesauce.

i would no longer describe myself as picky. i have a few random food aversions. i don't like the texture of coconut, and i don't like most olives. other than that, i eat pretty widely, like a good little hipster. i adore sushi, indian food, and thai food. i'll try most anything once, with my crowning glory being stir fried bumblebees (tastes like popcorn). i'm all grown-up.

as a general rule, i recommend luna bars, particularly the nutz (sic) over chocolate and blueberry morning sunrise flavors, despite their silly names. i discovered them when i was vegan and missed the taste of chocolate. besides, they keep forever in my desk at work.

however, i have to amend my previous blanket luna endorsement because the following flavor is indescribably bad:



i literally cannot eat luna's lemonzest bars. i tried. on two different occasions. i spit the offending bar out both times, wrinkling my forehead in consternation over the nastiness that this is.

the post about hair, fish, and books

• when i came in yesterday, the mr.'s grandmother's fish, who i adopted after she died a few months ago, was dead (gone to join his original owner, i suppose). a dead fish is quite dramatic. it was lying on its side on the bottom of the bowl w/ its little eyes shut. i felt horrible.
  
• my hair is out of control. one would think my hair is too short to be out of control. not so. my haircutter cut my hair with a razor about two weeks ago. it is now wild. i tend to just stick a headband in it and declare victory, acting as if i meant for it to look so... mad scientist-esque, like those people who spend half an hour making their head look as if they just got out of bed. but the truth is, i've lost all control over my wee bit of hair, which is (let's call it what it is) pathetic.
  
• i broke down and ordered those three books: albert einstein biography, margaret atwood short stories, and blue like jazz are on their way. i'm ecstatic.
  

the post about clergy conference and books

i just got back from attending the mandatory clergy conference of this diocese. the next youngest woman? 45. and she is leaving. the next youngest after that is 49.

anyhow, monday morning was excellent; a new testament professor came and basically helped us to do a blitz bible study for advent sermon prep. she was great. she seemed so engaged with the text, and i imagine--though i don't know--that it might be partially due to her faith. i miss school.

monday afternoon was free. i spent two hours on the beach, one of those hours in the ocean. and THAT is why you live in the south... still in the atlantic in mid-october. it's unseasonably warm, but we'll breeze right over that. i actually got a slight sunburn on tuesday morning.

i swam alone on tuesday, after the conference was over. we all know that's a big no-no, especially in the ocean. i got all metaphorical thinking about how this time last year i felt like i was swimming alone-- no friends around, etc. etc. more dangerous than the situation itself--most people who swim alone end up coming out of the ocean--was not realizing/appreciating the potential danger of isolation--the consequences of getting sucked into a riptide.

that's too much pontificating pre-coffee.

on a totally unrelated note, i'm completely drooling over several books right now-- a new albert einstein biography, blue like jazz, and margaret atwood's moral disorder. i want them so much i'm actually distracted by it, but i feel guilty about buying stuff sometimes.

the post about the blessing of the stuffed animals

this morning, during preschool chapel, it occurred to me that i can bless stuffed animals without anyone blinking an eye and yet the bishop here does not allow me to bless the relationships of same sex couples in committed relationships.

the post about acne

remember when you were a teenager and you thought that when you were all grown-up, your skin would finally (finally) be free of those hateful zits?

remember when you got some monstrosities of zits as an almost thirty year old that rival those you had in your teenage years, maybe even those you see weekly in youth group?

the post about steamers

the mr. is a fantastic cook, and he loves to do it to boot. but, left to his own devices in place where he's training, he will do eat poorly: junior bacon cheeseburgers, an entire bag of tater tots for dinner, BK broiler stacks... i think you probably get the gist. this leads to ulcers on his part. and as much as he loves to cook (no, really), he likes to do things like reroof the shed more when he's actually here (he's like a domestic god, which works, since i'm a domestic idiot).

in other words, i'm doing more of the cooking lately. now, i'm not a bad cook. i can follow a recipe. i can be inventive but not in a scary "good lord, what is that?" sort of way. but i have definite brain farts, like, "which one is a skillet again?" i also forget to put ingredients in (i write it off as part of my charm). i'm just insecure, particularly in the greatness of the mr.'s skills, and, like everyone else in the free world, a little time strapped on occasion. anyhow.

what i'm trying to say is this: i've discovered these (kind of in the same way christopher columbus discovered america, as in, my 'discovery' is pretty much a misnomer), and i'm digging them thus far:



you just throw the bag in the microwave for like 5 minutes, and voila! yummy veggies. there are a few other varieties, including garlic cauliflower, and there also is a family-sized pack.

that is all.

the post about lusting after shoes

the mr. is at home tonight, which is great and unusual. and yet, somehow, all i can think about are my latest conquests. this has less to do w/ the mr. and far more to do with the fact that i have shown remarkable restraint and have not purchased any shoes for about nine months:



these lovelies are on their way to me now via ups. they're going to be the perfect shoe for the pulpit this fall and winter (remember, i live in the south). if they're anything like my other peep toes from this same company (see current profile pic), they'll look fantastic/outlandish and be surprisingly comfortable, too.

i picked these up at target the other day (say it with me: tar-jay!):



i wore them today, and they looked absolutely fabulous but gave me a slight blister. grr. i'm hoping that it'll be better when they break in some.

i'm so vain; i bet i think this post is about me... carly simon, anyone?

ahem. yeah.

the post about which no one will care

might we have a brief discussion about how tired i am?

i am. so tired.

poo on wanting to maintain some semblance of propriety by not having couches in my office.

poo on work.

poo on big huge homecoming sundays that sap the energy of leetle closet introvert me.

poo on preaching this coming sunday at three services, one of which must be a children's sermon, which are so much harder than "regular" sermons and leading the creatively named high school group and officiating at evensong.

sigh. and blah. and no one wants to hear this.

the post about no prayer before judgment

given one of my below posts, it probably will not surprise anyone that i got a speeding ticket a few weeks ago (though might surprise you to find out that i actually hadn't had a moving violation in over ten years). i called friendly lawyer parishioner guy (note: again, something i really shouldn't be doing) and asked with him, embarrassingly, to "take care of it." he said he was happy to do so (after explaining to me where he had been last sunday--see below--though i didn't ask and quite frankly didn't care).

however.

i was speeding in a school zone (going 40 mph in a 25 mph , to be more exact). in my defense, school had started that week, and i don't normally drive on this street during the posted hours. but i was.

now, i'm not a lawyer (clearly). i did know that if you don't have lots of moving violations, you normally can appear in court on your appointed day and ask for a reduction. i had forgotten that doing so is known as "prayer before judgment," which, given my line of work, intrigued me.

however, since i was speeding in a school zone, i am not allowed a prayer before judgment. i am NOT ALLOWED a PRAYER BEFORE JUDGMENT. me and DUIers forfeit the chance to have a prayer before judgment. what kind of theology is that? apparently, speeding in school zone is the unforgivable sin against the holy ghost to which jesus refers.

i'm being sent to driver purgatory (all of that reformation stuff for naught) aka "driver improvement school" aka bad driver class aka clever way for community college to stay afloat by charging $55 for 8 hours for delinquent people like myself who can't afford to have their insurance go up and do not want to lose their license, either.

the post about guilt

well, it's that time of year again, the time when the summer is officially over, school is back in session, and people start coming back to church. at this time, i have to keep reminding myself *not* to say one particular four letter word, one four letter word that is the mack-daddy (are we still saying mack daddy?) of the long list of four letter words that ms. reverend... or not tries not to say and yet invariably says...

y'all, the word is "miss."

surprised? let me back up for a minute here.

i've found that i simply cannot say to a parishioner "i've missed you." when i was a wee ordained lass, and did not have all of 1.1 years of ordained experience under my belt, i would occasionally utter the dreaded three word phrase. now, when i said to a parishioner, "i've missed you," i meant something like this: "hey, it's been awhile since i've seen you. i think you're kinda neat, and i like having you around, so it's good to see you again."

the response i received was, with shockingly little variation, something to this effect: "well, uh, we've been, uh, busy. work has been awful, my parents are sick, the kids have soccer games and swim meets and violin rehearsals during church, and, wouldn't you know, the beloved family gerbil died, too."

from this, i gather what they thought i was trying to say went something like this: "YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN CHURCH IN WEEKS!!! EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOU WORTHLESS WORM, OR RISK ETERNAL DAMNATION!"

it makes me sad and actually a little angry that it seems (from my totally unscientific, anecdotal evidence) that the human emotional trump card of guilt is dwarfing all else, including the chance that i actually, in fact, merely missed said person or family, nothing more, nothing less. i like feeling as if i'm able to speak my mind when i want, something which has gotten me into trouble more than once. i've been willing to pay that price because i feel the cost is my authenticity. since i made a conscious decision not to tell parishioners i've missed them, i wonder why i've made an exception.

i think the answer goes a little something like this: i grew up in the south, where guilt, particularly within families, is nothing less than an art form. i don't even know how many times i've been blindsided by guilt, some of it well-deserved, some not at all deserved in any form or fashion. because of the many, many ways and times guilt has been used on me to try and get me to do or not do things, i'm not a big fan of people purposefully trying to make me feel guilty, so i try not to inflict that on others if i can possibly help it.

i suppose, then, there's a certain irony in the fact that i'm employed by an institution that, when it comes down to it, may have not been able to sustain itself without the use of guilt. which makes me wonder: is it okay for me to play the guilt card for greater ends? my knee jerk reaction is to say, "no, of course not; that's an abuse of power and position." to be fair, though, to be the devil's advocate, what am i missing, if anything at all, by trying to give guilt the proverbial heave-ho?

the post about driving

every once in a while, some kind soul, noticing that my nondescript car is bereft of a denominational marker of any kind, will kindly give me one, assuming, i suppose, that the reason i don't have the episcopal shield on my car is simply because i don't have said sticker.

oh, if only that were the case.

the truth is, i'm currently in the running for world's most irate driver. i would be a professional, were i not trying to maintain my amateur status for the irate driving olympics. the way i yell at other people when i'm driving is unbecoming for anyone who portends to call herself human, let alone someone who is supposedly (or, rather, is) ordained.

it wasn't always this way. i used to live in other lands-- Walkingland (i.e. a town in New England, where everything wasn't all spread out) and, my personal favorite, Subwayland (i.e. major metropolitan area-- oh, to read during my commute again).

but. alas. i now live in a land in which people stare at me when i dare to walk all of three blocks (i wish i were kidding). and i encounter inane drivers daily. this leads to lots of loud yelling, in which i generally question the driver's intelligence while calling him every name in the book (plus a few more which probably aren't in the book and which i invent in my fury), bang on the wheel, and sometimes shoot the bird.

it would be easier to be less irate if people didn't seem to operate under the following driving assumptions, which i refuse to recognize as truths:

inane driver #1: "i want to go; therefore, i will." apparently, when one wants to, say, turn in front of another driver, even if that other driver has that small thing called "right of way," then, again, apparently, one may do so, simply because one feels like it. a multitude of people follow this "rule," but it seems to pair well with a sense of entitlement.

inane driver #2: "i need to swing out in order to turn." *sigh.*

inane driver #3: "i think it's okay to honk at other drivers who have clearly signaled that they are turning, just because they slow me down." *double sigh.*

am i proud of myself?
no, i am not.

is it what i actually do?
yes, it is.

do i know how to stop?
no, not exactly.

am i soliciting advice on how to be less irate?
no, i am not.

the first post

i'm guessing that i'm supposed to start off with some sort of introductory "who am i" type of post, but, i'd rather not. so here goes.

it's official: i'm tired of being in transition.

i moved to a new town to a new job in a new state about a year ago. to further complicate matters, i, in some people's eyes, acquired a new ontological status by being ordained. whether you (or i) agree with the whole ontological change at ordination thing (i'm not completely convinced), the fact of the matter is, people somehow put me in a different category. when people find out i'm a priest, there tends to be a person-shaped hole in the wall as they run screaming in terror. well, first, they stand there in confusion, their cognitive dissonance practically palpable as they assess the painted toenails, the shoes (flip-flops or high heels), the jewelry, and, of course, the princess parts. even if they decide to stick around and talk, i'm more of a novel curiosity than an actual human being. that's a hell of a reality to get used to, on top of the whole normal life transition stuff. so, transition? not my favorite.

even so, against all odds, and my propensity to be melodramatic, things have gotten somewhat better. there are some people here i feel like i might be able to call my friends now, and i've got a couple of people i'm grooming to be friends. i've forced some young clergymen to be my friends, whether they like it or not (that was kinda fun).

but here's the catch (why is there always a catch?): today, monday, august 27th, the husband started a new job... for which he has to receive training for six to nine months in a metropolitan area about 1.5 hours away from where we live.

blah.

yeah, thankful for good, interesting job in a region where jobs are not exactly plentiful, yes, i'll see him on the weekends, maybe even some during the week. it's more that i was finally feeling a little settled, like maybe the husband and i had gotten some sort of rhythm down that finally worked for us. but so much for that.

then i got to thinking. will i ever not be in transition? i'll probably be ready for a new job in a few years: transition. we might have children at some point: hello, serious unchangeable transition. if life is just one transition after another, then why do i keep expecting it to settle down? should i just be grateful when things do feel like they're falling into place and just call them what they are: a grace-filled abnormality?

so if i'm tired of being in transition, maybe that's just my too bad, because i'm pretty sure i've been mislabeling "transition;" i should have just been calling it "life."