Mr. Burns

Sometimes all I need in life is to know that someone wants me.  That is about all that I can honestly take right now, which is why these last few months have been pleasantly satifying.  You see, Mr. Burns has a crush on me.

Okay, so it is not Mr. Burns.  It is a sweet, awkward 25 year-old intern who is skinny and bald enough for me to make the connection.  Before telling you this story, let me make some clarifications:

I am not, in fact Bill Clinton.  I am not interested in dating or receiving any kind of physical favors from an intern.  There is no flirting and I am not encouraging any confused happy feelings that he may have.  I learned my lesson with both 1) dating someone at work and 2) dating much younger men. 

Clarification made, I still enjoyed the summer.  A smalll dose of witnessing a crush was all it took to wake me up.  I have not thought of love or boys or crushes in a very long time.  As a matter of fact, so many of my friends are getting divorced and I am so jaded from work stuff that I have a hard time believing in love.

I think that I why God sent me Mr. Burns intern.  Not to fall in love, but to be reminded that I am, in fact, a woman who could be loved by someone one day.  That is easy to forget when you are neck-high in senior citizens, meetings, a dysfunctional family, and an uncertain future.

So here is what woke me up:

Mr. Burns doesn't know how to say goodbye or leave any meeting or interaction.  This means that when it was time to go, he lingered.  A lot.  He sat on the couch in my office and asked question after question about me.  That isn't much of anything except for when...

Someone asked him what he wanted to do with his life, and he said "I think I'll just marry a minister so that I can sit on her couch and talk about ministry."  We all acted like no one heard him.  I, however, was very flattered.

And then there was...

I made a joke in a meeting about how sexy it is when men know how to dance.  He immediately said "Gee, I need to learn how to dance" and practiced dancing to himself.  We just laughed it off and kinda ignored it.  Again, I was flattered.

That was all it took.  A summer with a sweet, awkward intern passively flirting with me.  Now I remember that I am, in fact, a woman.  It is strange to think that this is how far I have come from two years ago when the sexy latino janitor was asking me to dinner when I was still dating the sexy funk musician.

For now, I'll take what I can get.  Thank you, Mr. Burns. 

Texas, My Texas!

Texas will always be home.  I am a Texan.  I love Texas and its many quirks.  I love that it is such a large state that we have at LEAST four disctinct accents and cultures.  I love the arrogance and self-importance of Texas.  When I moved away from Texas, I enjoyed discovering just how much the rest of the nation thinks about and brands things around Texas.  We get a lot more air time than, say, Pennsylvania.

I love Texas unless we are talking politics or religion.  Election season is a brutal time for me.  Even from the comfort of the East Coast (although my present state of residence is not getting great air time either), I can't escape the stupidity and staunch Republican Southern Baptist White Unapologetic views from my home state.

They voted to do away with all Planned Parenthood in Texas, finding a loophole that lets them ignore federal mandate.

REALLY????

The damned anti-Obama movie that is feeding the fear of uneducated masses came from Houston.

FUUUCKKK!!!

A judge in Texas has threatened Civil War if Obama is re-elected and is preparing folks for the fight.

Even in Texas, that is BATSHIT CRAZY!!!!!

Those were just the news stories from one afternoon.  It will be a long three months between now and the election...

She is sad because she has no place to get a free papsmear or breast exam... the bull is worried about her impending cervical cancer that will go untreated.

Oh Texas.  I realize that I am your wayward child.  I've left your strong borders and lived outside of the conservative bubble for too long.  I no longer belong.  You will always be my home, but I guess there is no going home, is there?  I am sorry for moving away and learning that there is a bigger, wider, and more liberal world out there. 

The Bitter Break-up

It wasn't a serious relationship, but I had to end things.  Yes, we'd been together since I met them in the mall in 1992.  I haven't always been loyal, but they got me through some really rough and lonely months back in 2005.  It was a relationship that I could always count on- something different and reliable. 

And what did they do?  They fucked up.  There were hints in the years past that we were growing apart.  I sensed that their values did not always reflect mine.  But they had to throw it in my face.  I had no choice.

I broke up with Chic-fil-a. 

It was a resentful break-up on my part.  If I wrote a note to Chic-fil-a, it would say:

Dear Chic-fil-a,

I still love you and your breakfast sandwiches, but your complete lack of morals is too much for me to handle.  I hate you for making me love you!  Why do you have to be so stupid?  Why did you align yourself with every backwoods, angry, ignorant, self-righteous, and bigoted Christian in America? 

Why do you make me walk away from you?  It isn't me, it's you.  This IS personal.  We are over.  Call me when you do something to redeem this hate you spread in the name of Jesus.

Regrettfully,
Your ex-lover

p.s. If you need me, you can find me at Zaxby's.  Their nibblers are growing on me and they don't hate gays and lesbians.

Interns for a quarter

What is my favorite part of summer at work?  Summer interns!  Yes, these last years I have had college students or grad students who work for free (or almost free) at the church at least 10 hours a week.

It. Is. Awesome.  Even when it is horrible, it is still awesome.  Why?  I get that same thrill that I got as a kid after inserting a quarter into the toy machine while spinning that metal handle around and around.

Click.  Oh!  It is really working!
Click.  What will I get?
Click.  I hear it coming down the chute!

Oh, how I loved to lift the metal flap.  It is so exciting to open that plastic bubble and discover what wonderful or crappy prize I just bought for a quarter.  Most of the time it was some broken or unrecognizable toy from another country.  The worst was those sticky balls that were supposed to climb down your walls and just ended up leaving grease marks on the ceiling that your mom yells at you about (not that such a thing happened).  The best was jewelry.    ANY kind of jewelry.

Now summer interns are my grown up version of the toy machine.  We pay out little or no money.  They arrive.  For the first few weeks, we are still winding the metal handle to see what we will get.  It is fun to work with them, challenge them, encourage them, and see who is the star prize.*

This summer we have FOUR.  An entire dollar's worth.  Here is the line up:

The sticker intern:  He is shiney and attractive!  Everyone was excited and surprised to see him!  He started off strong saying yes to everything and acting as if he was actually listening to people talk.  Alas, the stickiness ran out and he fell to the floor.  Got another job.  We found out that smiling and nodding is a hot guy's way to say, "I have no idea what you are talking about and I am way out of my element but I am going to act cool until I just don't show up or do anything assigned to me."  Ironically, this shallow, shiney intern was our oldest at 26 years old.  He is going to a fundamentalist seminary in the fall where he will do quite well.

The bouncy ball intern.  She is the intern that everyone wants!  Watch her go!  She will never break and she blows your mind with her abilities and her joyful attitude!  Unfortunately, everyone wants the bouncy ball so she works at two other churches in addition to ours.  Like her namesake, she is awesome but impossible to find at any given moment in time.  Sharing bouncy balls sucks ass.

The plastic animal intern.  She has gifts and skills.  She is also beautiful and sweet.  This intern will always have a place in ministry because she can sing and love old people.  Like a plastic animal, you will never get rid of it but its sweetness and innocence may tempt you to take it for granted.  To truly appreciate it, you must not to look closer at the missing eye or mis-painted tail.  You are better off assuming that there is more detail and depth there than is the reality.  I love this intern, even with her flaws.

The slidey puzzle intern.  Yes, we shall not forget the puzzle with plastic squares that slide around to make an image.  Like this last intern, it is an acquired taste.  They are both very thoughtful, awkward, dorky, and easy for people to see and think "lame."  He, however, ended up being the star prize.  Why?  He never broke!  He is always available and willing!  The pastor claimed this intern for himself, as often happens when a nerdy kid finds the slidey puzzle game.  Mine!  I'm still figuring it out!  Get your own!

Summer is coming to a close and I am already starting to get that sad feeling when the thrill is over and you are out of quarters.  You got what you got and you'll lose it in a month or so anyway.  Except that "it" is a human being.  With whom I've built a relationship.  And who was not made in China...at least no one in this year's crop.

*I am fully aware that it is horrible for a minister to objectify and judge the precious people with whom I work as if they were not significant in God's eyes.  I never claimed to be a good minister.  Good ministers have boring blogs.

Judgment Day

It has come for the second time. 

The first judgment day snuck up on me slowly.  It was small changes at first and then everything went downhill until there was no denying the impending judgment.  I survived that first time with little cost.

Little Cost.  I knew that it was too much grace, as if I just put off the ultimate day of doom.  I lived for years in fear and trembling.  Waiting.  Watching.  Feeling my door frames and breathing in sweet relief that I had survived another day without the inevitable.

And now it is here.  It came in the night, sometime between 1am and 5am.  I awoke and knew.  From a deep sleep, I sat up and said, "This is not good."

Yes.  My air conditioning is broken.

There is no going back to sleep when I wake up to a hot house.  Now I have to wait.  One day.  Maybe two.  I wait for some person to come to my house and give me the news.  Am I going to receive grace?  It could be a $20 part and a $40 job.  Am I going to be held accountable for my home ownership actions?  It could be a $100 part and a $300 job.  Am I going to be given the ultimate judgment, dooming me to debt?  I may have to buy a new unit.

The day is come.  Maybe the holder of my fate with allow me to buy time before finally paying the ultimate cost.  Can we please wait a few years for a new unit, Mr. A/C repair man?  Until I know, I feel like I could throw up.  Sleep is no longer an option.  Today is going to be humid and 95 degrees.  Oh, the misery of a beat-down soul.

Big Girl Panties

Have you ever reached a point when your life is so miserable that it is humorous? I learned this from my family. You have to be able to laugh at your own misery sometimes. Here is a conversation from a phone call last week:

Me: Hey Josh (my brother)! How is everything?
Josh: Oh, you know. Everyone is gone right now. They are all at ball practice and art lessons.
Me: Nice! You have an empty house right now! I will let you go so you can enjoy the quiet.
Josh: No big deal. I am about to go on a date. [loaded pause after date]
Me: Whaaaat? Who with?
Josh: An older lady. 47
Me: Is she rich?
Josh: No, she is one of Joanna's friends. [another loaded pause because our sister, Joanna, makes horrible decisions and usually has friends who are complete trash or screwups]
Me: Oh. (pause) You know, you aren't supposed to date older people unless they are rich. Is she a blonde?
Josh: Yes! I don't know what my problem is! She has hair just like Meredith (his crazy girlfriend he dated on and off for 10 years)
Me: Dammit, Josh. You have to get over the blonde thing! Well, have a great date. I was just calling to check on my messed up sister, hurting nephews, and sick father.
Josh: (laughs a little) Yes, and the boys really are hurting. Joanna is in detox right now.
Me: Well, that is good. Where did she go?
Josh: Oh, she is in the next room.

And we laughed and laughed.

I recently realized that being a member of my family and being a woman makes me a lot stronger than most of the men in my life.  That may be sexist, but...

Since the shit hit the fan at church, the pastor and my two closest guy friends freaked out and can't handle conflict. At all. All three have bailed on me when they were all supportive about doing a lesbian wedding a week ago.  Two of them played in the band at the wedding!  We knew it was coming and they talked a good game, but they only lasted two weeks before giving up. I can't depend on the men, so here is my new mantra:

I had drinks and watched a movie with my girlfriends and gave them a little inspirational speech.  It was essentially:  Our lives suck.  The men can't handle any of this.  They are shitting themselves.  So we have to step up.  We have to put on our big girl panties because we know how to be broken and strong at the same time.

I actually bought a giant pair of panties (they fit me, unfortunately) for us to pass around as needed.  Only one of us can lose our shit at a time and that woman will hold the panties.  The rest of us have to keep wearing ours.

Why?  Because men are weak.  I can't depend on any man in North Carolina to help me hang onto my job.  It is up to the women to step up and take care of things.

We can cry, we can cuss, we can discuss things until we are blue in the face.  Real women, however, do not allow themselves to give into fear and hopelessness and shit themselves.  Not in the big girl panties.  That is what they are made for.

best sermon ever

This has been a rough month.

I live in North Carolina and the state voted to pass Amendment 1, which states: "All gay people are going to hell. We hate them and they can go fuck themselves."

Or something like that.

Two weeks before the amendment vote, I performed a wedding ceremony for some very close friends- both of whom are women. It was a beautiful day! Magical from beginning to end. A day for celebration!

Within a week, some angry Republicans from the church found out about the wedding. They asked for my head on a plate. In the form of a resignation. SO it has been hell. I am sure that I will unfold the hell more in weeks to come.

Until then, here is an amazing sermon by a pastor who 1) gives me hope and 2) solidifies my attraction to tall, strong, black men.

Awesome Sermon