Thursday, July 17, 2008

I am so. blogging. this.

Steph left today. She was camped out at my house for a week or so, and it was awesome. I am so glad to have Steph back in PA, that I didn't even mind accompanying her to the Colonial Chicken Barbecue at her parent's church this past Sunday. Church. That's how starved I am for adult human interaction. Also, I love her mom and dad, even if they have run away and joined a religious group. And I kind of like checking in with the Christly types now and then. You know, to compare notes. See where we're all at.

I checked Wendy into the provided childcare so that I could enjoy the service uninterrupted by demands for me to take out my boobs. (I know, why did I pass up that opportunity???) The registration process for some reason involved divulging my address and home phone number to a very sincere and endearingly wholesome looking guy with gorgeous hair and stunning eyes. I was attempting to subdue the tide of unwholesome thoughts rising up from unwholesome places, in effort to preserve this good man's virtue (proximal sullying was sure to take place), and I suddenly realized that I was giving these people my real address. The address where I live. The address where they could send literature and psalms on postcards and thinking-of-you notes.

I jerked out of the hypnotizing blue voodoo of his gaze just in time to give him the name of a town three towns over from mine. HA! I've foiled you! Now to just ramble off a few random numbers for a zip code, and I will escape your attempts to recruit me by mail-

"Wow! I used to live up there!" says Blue.

"Oh yeah? Small world, huh?....I, uh....forget the zip code. We just moved there, actually."

Luckily, he knew it. What a helpful dude.

And that is the story of how I lied in the house of God. Not when Steph's mom glanced sidelong over at me when she heard me singing to ask "Are you mocking?" and I said "No." That was not a lie. I like singing in church. It feels good. But that fraudulent address tucked away in Pastor Kenny's filing cabinet? That is probably already on my permanent record with Jesus.

2 comments:

  1. Hey, remember that time with the nun in the train depot? What is something I will have to tell my gandkids about.

    ReplyDelete
  2. wait...no. Nun?

    Were there boobs involved?

    ReplyDelete