Through a Glass, Darkly

I love to eat. I am so glad that food is not bland and tasteless. In honor of that, here are a few foods I could not live without:

Cheese. Whether it’s browned mozarella on top of a bowl of french onion soup, cheddar cheese with a granny smith apple, or provolone on a sandwich, cheese is extremely necessary in my life. I eat a couple of slices of cheddar cheese almost every morning, because I don’t get hungry after eating it.

Tomatoes. Tomatoes are pretty divisive. A lot of people don’t like them. I truly don’t understand this, because fresh tomatoes on a sandwich are like little slices of heaven. I want to get some tomato plants to have in my backyard. There’s nothing like getting a tomato off the vine and bringing it in to make a fresh tomato sandwich.

Onions. We don’t do it quite so much anymore, but there was a point where Mike and I ate onions almost every day. They add so much good flavor to things. Again, I don’t really understand not loving onions. (But I don’t like corn or scrambled eggs, and I know a lot of people don’t understand that.)

Chocolate. I don’t eat chocolate every day, and lately I’ve been eating sugar-free Jello when I need a sweet treat, but there is nothing like chocolate. Chocolate candy, chocolate ice cream, brownies, chocolate cake. Especially when chocolate is hanging out with his best friend, peanut butter.

Pasta Sauce. This is combining two of the above (and some other favorite things, like garlic), but I would not want to live in a world without pasta sauce. I call it “spaghetti sauce” and Mike calls it “jar sauce,” but whatever it is, we buy the Classico brand (Barilla if we are really treating ourselves) and add things like onions and mushrooms and ground beef.

Frozen pizza or pizza rolls. I know this is kind of odd. But who wants to live in a world without frozen pizza? Not me. Pizza in general is a favorite - look how many of the above it combines. hehe.

Strawberries. Some of my favorite childhod memories are on my grandparents’ farm, back when they had a huge garden. My mom, my brother, my favorite cousin and my Aunt Nancy would go and pick strawberries in the morning, and then the adults would make jam and freeze berries while my brother, my cousin and I were given heaping bowls of strawberries to eat. Fresh strawberries? Yes, please.

Well, there are plenty of things I have forgotten, like peaches and blueberries and lima beans and okra (I bet lima beans and okra gross more than a few of you out). But that’s good enough for now. Share some of your favorites with me, please.

This week I have been thinking about how I hate having my time overly scheduled. We hang out with some friends to watch Survivor every week, and it kind of stresses me out to have to do something every Thursday night. Mike pointed out today that my problem is not so much with things being scheduled on Thursday nights as it is with his current schedule. Here’s a quick rundown of our week - small group in Greensboro on Monday nights, we both work late on Tuesday nights, we have Wednesday nights together to cook dinner (except when I am being taken out for a special treat), Thursday nights we have Survivor and Friday nights Mike works late. So my real problem is that we only get Wednesday night at home together.

However, this seems as good a time as any to announce - that will be changing soon, because Mike has turned in his notice and will be going back to school full-time in the fall. He has not yet earned a bachelor’s degree, and he has decided that he would like to be a math teacher, so I will be supporting him while he goes to school and works part-time. We are both very excited about this.

Anyway, back to the original topic. Mike and I are just not the spontaneous sort. When we get home from work, we tend to veg out immediately and not go out again (unless it’s a planned trip to the grocery store). Is this bad? I think it’s okay to be a homebody, but I am a homebody to the extreme. I love just sitting on the couch or on the deck and reading and listening to music and being close to Mike. I am afraid that my desires to stay at home are detrimental to my friendships, because I just don’t think about calling my girl friends to hang out (especially during the week). (And there is an element of, “I am sure they are all busy with other people,” but I doubt that’s surprising to my long-time readers.)

I am not sure what to do with any of this. I guess I am still processing. I am definitely the kind of person who needs time alone, but I want to be careful not to take that to extremes.

Cast Keira Knightley in the lead role. (It’s still just a rumor. Let’s see how it plays out.)

Mike is very excited about the possibility of this. “Not,” he says, “that I wouldn’t be delighted to go and see Pride and Prejudice with you no matter who is in it. But you have Colin Firth. Can’t I have Keira Knightley?”

I think she would be a better Jane than Elizabeth. She’s too pretty to be Elizabeth, I think.

In the winter, I sleep better if there’s something warm on my feet, so Mike and I often put our extra pillows at the end of the bed so I can burrow under them. We have a joke that all Mike has to do to get me to fall asleep is put a pillow on my feet. (He likes to try this when we are in the middle of a heated discussion.)

Mike has a men’s meeting on Wednesday mornings, so he has to get up at 5:30 (and in order to make himself get up, he uses the awful alarm - the one that causes me to wake up wondering if I’m being murdered). When he got out of bed this morning, he put a pillow on my feet, which I thought was nice but a little odd - I mean, it’s practically May, right? Apparently someone forgot to explain that to Mother Nature, because when I got up at 6:30, it was 37 degrees outside!

That was not the first thoughtful thing Mike has done this week. Yesterday I had to do something not very fun, and he normally takes me out to dinner afterwards. But because of our schedules, that wasn’t possible, so he brought me a present instead - a Statler figurine! He promised to get Waldorf at the next available opportunity. Meanwhile, Statler is here at work on my bookcase, heckling me as much as he can without his sidekick.

(Oh, and for the record, we still get to go out for dinner - tonight! hehe.)

Last night at small group we were looking at the Beatitudes. The rest of the group was discussing different things that challenge or encourage them, but I was just sitting there. Unfortunately, our group is too small for me to be able to get away with that, and I got asked what I thought.

I look at the Beatitudes and I feel completely at a loss. There are things that have happened to me where I have mourned, and I tried to take it to God the best that I knew how. And I didn’t (and don’t) feel comforted. I have tried to be a peacemaker and to show mercy, and I don’t feel like a daughter of God. I know that these rewards are not always (or even usually) seen here on earth, nor are God’s promises dependent on my feelings, but I wonder sometimes if these verses are for me at all. I’m not exactly being persecuted for my faith. I am not a prophet. No one is “falsely saying all kinds of evil things against me” because of my belief in God. I’m just a very small person having a hard time.

It’s not that I don’t believe the Bible is truth. I do believe it is truth. Imagining that it’s not truth is really scary. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t believe the Bible. It just doesn’t seem to be working right now. I don’t think that that will always be the case, but I am not sure how to get to the point of trusting again.

I think a lot of my fear comes from the fact that I seem to believe that God is always wanting to Teach Me A Lesson. I think I believe that the comforting and the mercy are shown after I Learn My Lesson. I certainly live like I believe that. How can I get to the point of trusting a God who only wants to Teach Me A Lesson?

I shared all these things last night, and my friends were great. They got me tissues and asked good questions and prayed for me. They didn’t give quick and easy answers. They shared some of their own brokenness with me. I think that’s about as much as any of us could ask for, and I am thankful for that.

I don’t feel that I am in a crisis of faith or anything like that. I just feel kind of stuck as far as being able to take the needed steps to get out of this valley. I suppose I think I need to Learn A Lesson; maybe I just need to learn some truth to correct my skewed perspective.

I have kept this email for a few weeks now, because it cracks me up every time I read it:

URGENT NOTICE REGARDING POTENTIAL FIRE AND SAFETY HAZARD IN RECIPE FOR ICEBOX ROLLS ON PAGE 154 OF THE APRIL 2004 ISSUE OF SOUTHERN LIVING

Please DO NOT USE the Icebox Rolls recipe. Combining the water and shortening as described in the recipe may cause the mixture to ignite, is extremely dangerous, and could result in fire and safety hazards.

Whatever I expected it to say, it wasn’t that the recipe would ignite. Mike was sitting by the computer when I got this, and we promptly became hysterical as we imagined spontaneously combusting icebox rolls.

Maybe it was just us?

I have been reading a lot of fluff lately. I am not exactly apologizing for that, because my take on reading lite is that people should read whatever they want without being ashamed or feeling that they have to explain themselves. Fluff is fine. I think reading as a form of escape is fine (though maybe not all the time). The problem with fluff is that it gets you out of the habit of having to read for comprehension. I can read something light with about half my mind and still finish it in less than two hours. I have read so much fluff lately that I’m afraid to start Howards End. It’s been on my list for a while [aside: I always put really "important" books on my list. And then I'm a little intimidated to actually read them. Anyone else do that?] and I pulled it off the shelf today. It’s sitting on my desk waiting to be read. I just have to be willing to start it.

I am often afraid to start a new book (which I don’t think I have ever admitted before - take from that what you will!). Not because I fear becoming engrossed in it - that excitement about a book is one of my most favorite things. No, I am mostly afraid I won’t be able to keep all the facts straight. I’m afraid I’ll miss something and be confused. I am very afraid of being confused. This fear is especially prominent when I am reading an author I have never read before. I was very apprehensive about starting Girl with a Pearl Earring, but those fears were completely unfounded. I was drawn into the story from the very first chapter. I love the feeling I get when a book is easy to get into, when I care about the characters.

From what I remember, I enjoyed the movie version of Howards End. I guess we’ll see if I also enjoy the book. (See what I’ve done here? I used my lunch break to write this post, so now I don’t have to start it yet. Sneaky, eh?)

I thought about writing about scrapbooking today. I haven’t scrapbooked in months, and I’m not sure why (other than the obvious being busy buying a house stuff). But that’s not really what’s on my mind.

I’m still in self-pity mode, unfortunately. Today it’s about being left out. It’s the same old, same old “nobody picks me first” thing I struggle with all the time. Today it’s more along the lines of “nobody remembers me” or “I am eminently forgettable.” Second verse, same as the first.

I’ve been wrestling with a lot of insecurities this week. I have a fear of always being the last to know, or not being included. (Related to that is my fear that I am a little too nosy for my own good - I ask questions a lot because of my fear of being left out.) Everyone hates to be embarassed because of missing out on some information, and I have been especially sensitive to that since a couple of incidents my freshman year of college.

Add to all of that that a few things happened today that conspired together to make me feel forgotten, and stir in that this weekend I’ll be in a situation where all the other people included are close friends, but I only know one person . . . and you get one slightly edgy Kari. And I haven’t even left for the trip yet.

So, here’s what I’m hoping. I hope that I’m not overly sensitive this weekend. I hope that I make the effort to be outgoing, instead of just observing (which is my wont). I hope that I find where I am supposed to be going (since I finally have directions). And I hope someone makes the effort to draw me in.

It’s been a hard week, and it’s hard for me to think about being stretched this weekend by being around people I don’t know. I would rather hide out at my house. My final hope: That I have fun, despite all my misgivings.

I am watching Friends, and Rachel has on an orange shirt with Cookie Monster on it. I have that shirt! hehe.

(Cookie Monster is my favorite Sesame Street character, as he is singleminded in his pursuit of cookies. I like that in a muppet.)

Last night I fell asleep before Mike got home and slept straight on through to his alarm going off at 5:30 this morning. I was tired. Self-pity can do that to you.

Yesterday on the Rumor Forum, Rhonda asked how one takes every thought captive. My answer had to do with not allowing yourself to dwell on things you shouldn’t, whether it’s lustful thoughts or bitterness or “what might have beens.” It was a good answer, but not something I practice all that much, myself. Lately I have been thinking quite a lot on what might have been, and feeling pretty sorry for myself about how some things have turned out. Did I make huge mistakes, I wonder? Would I be happier if I had made different decisions? Am I doomed forever? (Okay, maybe that last one is a little overly dramatic.) Yesterday I made a concerted effort to stop my brain when it began to ramble down that path. It was very tiring!

I would like to say that I feel like more of a complete person, or that I made big steps or something. But it was just a day. I had to wake up today and start over again. I think it did help, though, to keep my mind off some of those very well-worn paths. I expect that the more I attempt to do that, the less tired I will be by that effort.

Another thing I have realized lately about contentment is that the kinds of things I am mentally feeding myself greatly affect my emotional well-being. When I read all those glossy magazines I feel very short and very round. When I read romance novels I miss those exciting days of first falling in love. If I look at those situations rationally, I see that I am not round at all (in fact, I have lost weight in recent months), and that there is a whole lot (to put it mildly) to be said for the companionship and commitment that Mike and I have. In fact, I am thankful for the fact that we don’t have to be all flirty and unsure around each other anymore. (I have to face the fact that I am short, though. hehe.) In those areas, too, I have to decide to dwell on what is healthy and right instead of what is unrealistic and dangerous.

Of course, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out these things. It just takes a while for them to translate from my intellectual knowledge to those fears and insecurities I too often respond from.

“Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again,’ to the sun; and every evening, ‘Do it again,’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike: it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.” -G.K. Chesterton

I am not always up before the sun, especially when the days are getting longer as they are now. But, when I get to see a sunrise, I am thankful, and I think of this quote. Every sunrise is different and miraculous. Taking a walk beneath a full moon and the stars on a summer evening is a wondrous thing. Every spring the dogwoods bloom, and the birds come back and lay eggs. We have amazing thunderstorms and beautiful snow. My aunt’s cat sleeps on the sunny windowsill while squirrels chase each other through the trees outside. God could have made the world a boring place, but we have birds and flowers and trees that are beautiful, not just functional. I would like to stay young enough to see all of that for the inexplicable magic that it is. I am thankful that God does not seem to be bored of making the sun come up every day, or making the world new and different with each season.

Yesterday Mike and I took a picnic lunch to the park after church and had a nice hour or so reading and eating. We went home and did more of the same on our back porch, mellowing in the sun with some “Classical Music for Readers” coming out our open window. It was just about perfect - the kind of day I hope God never gets tired of creating.

Mike mowed the lawn today. When I was growing up, it was my job to mow the lawn. My parents have 10 acres of land, and I mowed about an acre with the riding mower. I would do it early, before it got too hot, and then I would come in and get cleaned up, and my mom would make us all BLTs.

“Adam came for lunch on Sunday. We had beautifully messy BLTs, with the bacon crisp and the tomatoes dripping juice so that the toast fell apart and we were licking our fingers not to miss any of it, and then using up half a dozen napkins.” -Madeleine L’Engle from A Ring of Endless Light

That sounds like the BLT to end all BLTs, doesn’t it? That passage is what I think of every time I have one.

“I know some very great writers, writers you love who write beautifully and have made a great deal of money, and not one of them sits down routinely feeling wildly enthusiastic and confident. Not one of them writes elegant first drafts. All right, one of them does, but we do not like her very much. We do not think that she has a rich inner life or that God likes her or can even stand her. (Although when I mentioned this to my priest friend Tom, he said you can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out God hates all the same people you do.)” -Anne Lamott from Bird by Bird

Our small group has a rotation for leading, and this month is Mike’s month. Unlike any of the other guys, he has never had any formal small group leader training, but so far he has done great. For next Monday, he asked us to bring a few non-Biblical quotes that have inspired or challenged or represent our faith in some way. I haven’t thought a lot about it other than the fact that I know the above quote will be included. Besides being hysterically funny [Mike said if I was using this one, my others all had to be serious], this quote really challenges me. I do that. I totally do that.

As terrible as it is to have to admit, I have a tendency to hold grudges. I think I have gotten better about it in the past year and a half, but I do want the world to be a black-and-white, right-and-wrong kind of place. Where of course I am right. And everyone who agrees with me? Also right.

In Joshua chapter 5, Joshua sees a man and approaches him, asking “Are you for us or for our enemies?” The man responds, “Neither, but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come.” Did you get that? Joshua is the commander of God’s chosen people, and yet this man is not on Joshua’s side. Instead, Joshua has to choose to be on God’s side and to do what God commands. Too often I want God to be on my side, when I feel I am right and I want to stand in my rightness. I want him to vindicate me against those who I perceive have wronged me. Instead, I need to learn to put aside my desire to be right, and to ask him for help in learning to desire what he says is right.

So, I love this quote because it cuts to the heart of my pride and self-righteousness. Anne Lamott has that way about her - she’ll have you laughing at a random example or anecdote and then smack you over the head with the truth. I can only recommend her non-fiction, though - I haven’t liked what fiction of hers that I have read.

(I’ll be thinking of more quotes in the next few days, and if I come up with something good, I’ll share it here.)

I met Shelby in the lobby of our freshman dorm. I was with my best friend, who, because of a lack of peripheral vision, was known for tripping and running into things. Shelby and my friend spoke to each other, because they had apparently seen each other at the Rec center earlier that day, where both of them had fallen or run into poles or something. They bonded over shared embarassment.

Somehow or another, we invited Shelby to come to our small group that met in the dorm lobby. And thus began my experiences with Shelby and her embarassing stories. Something embarassing happens to Shelby every day. I got an email from her a couple of days ago, and right at the end she included an embarassing story, because she knows I love them.

The difference between me and Shelby is that she embraces her stories, while I tend to feel ashamed about the accidents I get into. It’s really good for me to be around her, because it causes me to think of my embarassments in that light - stories I can share. I think my favorite experience with her was when we were going to a friend’s wedding. We were supposed to be seated on the front row, but somehow the ushers missed that direction and we ended up in the back. Which turned out to be a good thing, because we really shamed ourselves. During the service, the bride and groom had communion, and the minister said, “Jesus broke the bread, saying, ‘This is my body. Take and eat all of it.’” He then tore a big loaf of bread in half. Shelby turned to me, horrified, and said, “They have to eat ALL OF IT?” We didn’t stop laughing for the rest of the ceremony. (In fact, I am laughing now, just thinking about it.) We offended everyone around us. Now that I think about it, I am pretty sure that we were also a little late to that wedding because Shelby ripped her skirt and we were trying to pin it back together. She ended up wearing her sweater tied around her waist to cover it. And the photographer refused to take our picture, saying we weren’t “formal enough.” And we didn’t get any shrimp because of waiting for the stupid photographer. That whole day was one comedic accident after another.

When I lived with my aunt and uncle, Shelby came to stay a couple of times. After she left, my uncle said, “She really makes you come alive.” What a fantastic compliment. I would love to be a person who makes people enjoy life. Shelby is definitely that kind of person.

Shelby is one of my few real-life friends who reads my blog (that I know of), and I have been thinking about her a lot lately. When you’re in college, you think, “These friendships will last forever!” Unfortunately, that isn’t always the case. We have been in sporadic touch over the past couple of years, but when we do talk, we can pick right up. I think that’s the mark of true friendship. I am thankful that Shelby is my friend. Just getting an email from her brightens my day.

I have been thinking a lot lately about emotions (and not just because I had a lot of trouble with mine last week, either). I think I often detach myself from how I feel and overanalyze it. It’s one of the things that makes me fear I will never be a very good writer, because I am uncomfortable reading things I have written that are very emotional. I want things to wrap up simply, even though I know life isn’t like that. I look at (or even just think about) journal entries I wrote when I was angry or upset, and I cringe inside. If I was talking to someone else, I would say, “You shouldn’t be embarassed about your emotions. That’s how you felt at the time, and it’s valid that you felt that way.” But I don’t see it that way for myself. I just see overreaction.

I do have a tendency to get worked up over things, and I look back at most of those things and I feel ashamed. Mike and I were talking about one in particular last night, and how I am really embarassed about it and I feel that I overreacted. He completely disagreed that I should feel embarassed. It was helpful that he disagreed, and his argument made sense, but I guess I am still undecided. I wish my emotions were more moderate, but I don’t think that’s really the answer. Everyone has emotions, and everyone overreacts. It’s not realistic to think that I won’t. I think being more thoughtful about what I do with my emotions is the only realistic answer. I can’t wish the problem away - that’s not growth. That’s just suppressing, which is what I think I do too much of.

One of the things I have been trying to do to be more comfortable with my emotions is that I have been trying to crack fewer self-depricating jokes. It’s not a novel idea or anything, but I do often deflect seriousness with humor. I also use sarcasm as a wall to keep people away. I have been noticing how much I do that, and I have asked several of my friends to keep me accountable in that area.

I am encouraged that I have even realized these things about myself. I’m not completely stuck! I’m going somewhere! In the past few weeks it has felt as if my soul was waking up after a long dark winter. I am ready to start living again.

Okay, I’m not really weeping. But it’s such a gray Monday - it definitely would have been nice if the world shut down on days like these so we could all stay in bed. Mike and I both woke up sometime between 2:00 and 3:00 am because the rain was coming down so hard. I think there was some thunder, too. It hasn’t rained that hard in a while. Now that we are homeowners, rain is a time to worry about what’s happening under the house or if the yard is okay.

One of our friends is having a baby today via C-section. Yesterday Mike and I overheard our pastor telling her and her husband that, in some Catholic communities (I think he said in Spain or predominantly Spanish-speaking) today is celebrated as a laughing day. Everyone gets together and eats the foods that were forbidden during Lent, and since God has heard nothing but confession of sin for the past 40 days, they all tell jokes to Him instead. I couldn’t actually find any information about that online, but I like the idea just the same.

One of my favorite things about going to a church that follows the church calendar is this time after Easter. We do five more weeks of Easter and then Pentecost. I like that Easter isn’t over now . . . I have been to churches where, immediately after Easter we move on to something else. I like having this extra time to focus on Jesus’ resurrection and post-resurrection ministry. I know some people think the focus on the church calendar and the colors of the church calendar are silly, but it really helps me focus my heart. I read this today from the Christian Resource Institute, which says it much better than I could:

These special days and seasons are a means to shape sacred time, a structure in which to define what it means to be Christian and to call God’s people to reverent and faithful response to God. Easter encompasses a time of preparation (Lent; Advent for Christmas) as well as a following period of reflection on its significance for the life of God’s people (Pentecost; Epiphany for Christmas). However, while Epiphany following Christmas focuses on the mission of God’s people to the world, the Pentecost season following Easter focuses on the church as the witness to the resurrection.

So, despite the weather or fatigue or sickness, rejoice! The truth of yesterday is still applicable today. It doesn’t change just because of rain pounding against the windows, no matter how gray it looks outside.

Mike made us an Easter mix today. We both like some of those old slightly cheesy songs like “The Easter Song” and “He’s Alive” and “Arise My Love,” so it was fun to listen to those songs on the way to and from church. It’s a good thing we both like those songs, because I can imagine people being quite pained by our choices. My one request was “High Noon.”

But then, in the dark of the grave
The stone rolled away
In the still of the dawn on the greatest of days

High noon in the valley of the shadow
When the shadows were shot through with light
When Jesus took in that breath
And shattered all Death with his life
So long, you wages of sin
Go on, don’t you come back again
I’ve been raised and redeemed
You’ve lost all your sting
To the victor of the battle
High noon in the valley of the shadow

Happy Easter!

I love love. I don’t read romance novels (very often), but I sure do like my mysteries to have a good romantic subplot. When I started the Deborah Knott series two weeks ago, I had heard mixed things about them, but mostly that the first few were the best. I did feel that the middle book was lacking (and didn’t actually finish it), but only disliking one out of nine ain’t too shabby. And in all honesty, the mysteries, while still well-written, weren’t what had me finishing three of the books in the past 24 hours. I absolutely had to know how the relationships with the men in her life were going to play out. It’s always a good sign when you’re that interested in the characters. The current romantic relationship gets my stamp of approval, so I am excited for book 10, which is supposed to come out this August.

I read all nine (well, eight-and-a-half) books in that series in the past two weeks. I think even worse than finishing a book is finishing a series that you’ve been immersed in. And of course the library is closed for the holiday weekend. So I’m going to have to get actual housework done instead of lounging around reading like I did yesterday. (But, boy, did I enjoy it.)

I’m not a very swoony girl. I am much more of a pragmatist than Mike - he’s the real romantic in our relationship. But, sometimes, a book or a movie will hit me just right. These books were like that. I think it helped that the characters are so familiar - the books are set about 90 minutes from here in a fictional rural North Carolina county. One of the books even had Deborah (who is a judge) filling in in my county and parking at the library, since it’s across the street from the courthouse. That’s my library! I know these places and I know these people.

I guess that’s why I feel so bereft now that I can’t read about them anymore (for a while). Here’s to August!

In my neighborhood, there are these two preteen girls who are often out rollerskating or hanging out in one of their yards in the afternoon. When I drive past them on my way home, they always punch each other and grin at me. I hate to be the cause of such violence . . . no, no I don’t. I think it’s hysterical.

Being a Beetle owner is fun. Other Beetle owners wave at me as if we are in some sort of secret club. In fact, today a (creepy - why are they always creepy?!) guy in a classic Beetle waved at me as I passed him like he was standing still. (Not pertinent to the story: he then sped up and rode beside me for a long time. I had a hard time losing the creepy guy.) Little kids always wave and look excited to see me. I feel like a queen.

I think my car is awesome. I have taken her a lot of places, and I’ve only had her two years. And don’t underestimate the thirty cubic feet of passenger space! I think there should be a series of commercials on all the things I move in my car. So far Arwen and I have moved a table and a dresser (and both times people said, “You’ll never fit that in your car”), and I think she and I are ready for more of a challenge. Someone write to Volkswagen and suggest that.

To make things easier, I often tell people that the reason I shy away from emotionalism is because of “bad church experiences.” Strictly speaking, that’s not really true. Here is where I out myself: I grew up in a charismatic church. Speaking in tongues? Check. Prophecy? Check. Being slain in the spirit? Check (occasionally).

Most importantly: Everything done by the order commanded in scripture (except maybe the being slain in the spirit bit - I am still not sure how I feel about that)? Check. We didn’t have tongues without interpretation, which is often the main complaint I hear about charismatic churches. I never saw that happen once in the nine-ish years I was there. The leadership and teaching in that church were very very strong. I actually heard someone refer to it as “reformed” teaching at one point. I don’t know if a church can be reformed and charismatic, but the teaching was most definitely biblically based. We weren’t told we had to pray in tongues or fall down or feel a certain way to be a Christian. If I have seen emotionalism, it was definitely not there. [I am not exactly sure what people's definitions of charismatic are, but mine has something to do with focusing more on spiritual gifts such as tongues than evangelical churches do. My church wasn't really weird or crazy like Benny Hinn. And there was none of that gold dust stuff. I want to make that very very clear.]

In college I went to a church in Greensboro. I do feel that the worship there was more emotionally driven, which made me a wee bit uncomfortable - things like changing up the last verse so we would “really sing it” and that kind of thing. But the teaching was good, so I mostly ignored it.

No, most of my problems with emotionalism come from my own personal discomfort with great displays of religious emotion and from working at a Christian bookstore, where so many people are so emotional all the time.

I haven’t realized until recently how shy I am about showing my emotions in a Christian setting. My freshman year of college on one of the retreats we did that thing where we write down some of our sin and nail it to the cross . . . I hate that kind of thing. I remember being intensely uncomfortable in that situation, and not because I was focusing on my sin. I never know if I am reacting like I am “supposed” to. Today at church we had this thing where we were given a stone and we were supposed to lay our “burden” represented by the stone at the foot of the cross. I had a really emotional morning, crying a lot and such. You’d think that the symbolism of laying all that at the foot of the cross would really move me, but instead I was kind of closed off to the whole thing. I don’t know why displays of emotion like that make me so uncomfortable.

I keep my religious thoughts pretty private - I tend to play those cards very close to my chest. I worry too much about what people think about me, and how they are perceiving me. If I cry at church, will they think my life is really messed up? I don’t want people to think my life is really messed up! Then they might pity me, and I hate pity. I’d better just keep it all in.

What a mess I am. It’s Good Friday, and all I can think about is myself.

My mom’s sister and I are pretty close. We share a love of reading, and for many years she would take me to Borders or Barnes and Noble for my birthday and we’d buy a ton of books . . . she would recommend authors she was enjoying, and we’d fill in on classics that I had missed. On one of those trips, she bought me a paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice. I put it on my shelf, but I didn’t get around to reading it for a couple of years.

My high school is on the 4/4 system, which means that I took four classes one semester and four the second semester. AP English is always for second-semester seniors, and my senior year was no exception. Just before spring break, we were given a choice of five books to read and write papers on. Since I knew I had a copy of P&P, I went with that one - even though I’m a librarian, I prefer having my own copies of books and always have.

That spring break was pretty special - I was going on a big trip. To Daytona? No. To Myrtle Beach? No. To Ocean Isle? Not even that. Actually, I went to Nashville with my dad. Oh, yeah, I’m cool! Spring break trip with my dad! hehe. One of our other AP English assignments had to do with finding resources on a career. I thought I wanted to do marketing with Christian bands, so my dad got some appointments for us in Nashville. We went to the Smalltown Poets’ release party at Rocketown, toured EMI, and saw some great bands perform. It was a good time.

But, back to Pride and Prejudice. I took it on the trip, expecting to read it during the week and get it done by the time I was back. What I didn’t count on was being completely hooked. On the way there, my dad kept trying to get me to drive, and I kept telling him no, that I had to keep reading. I had a feeling that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would get together, but his first proposal completely shocked me. I gasped so loudly that my dad was sure something was wrong. Arrogant Mr. Darcy in love with Elizabeth Bennet the whole time!? It was unbelievable. And unbelievably romantic.

The problem was that I finished the book on the way there. So, during the week, I read it again. And finished it again. Luckily, I drove most of the way home, so I didn’t have to start it for the third time in a week. When I got back to school, some of the other girls (I think all the girls chose P&P, but none of the guys did) were having trouble getting into the language, and I kept encouraging them to stick with it. My excitement was contagious, and it was fun to watch the story unfold for them just like it had for me.

It’s hard for me to believe I was 17 before reading it. I had read the Bronte sisters (and I honestly am not a huge fan of Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre) and Jane Austen and the Brontes are often stepping-stones to one another. Somehow I missed that connection. Now I re-read Pride and Prejudice on a regular basis, and Mike was good enough to buy me the DVD series. One of the things I love about him is that he likes the miniseries, too. I’ll catch him saying things like, “She is tolerable, I suppose,” or, “Then go to it!” He also loves to imitate Mrs. Bennet. He even started reading the book, and was getting into the language and the story more than he expected.

For me, reading is often about that experience. What was I doing when Mr. Darcy proposed to Elizabeth Bennet, or when Sherlock Holmes first kissed Mary Russell [in the kitchen, reading while eating chips and salsa]? How about when Harriet Vane finally gave in to Lord Peter and they passionately embraced in the middle of the road [in bed reading one Saturday morning at my aunt's house]? What about when I fell in love with Anne Lamott’s self-depricating style [taking a bubble bath after a long day when Mike was out of town]? Not only does re-reading take me back to those familiar characters - it also takes me back to where I was when I first discovered them.

I am officially having some serious sleep problems. Last night I was up until 5:00 am. Luckily, I slept until about 10 or so, since I didn’t have to come to work until later. I don’t actually feel as bad as I did yesterday, for some odd reason, but I haven’t slept well for probably the past three weeks or so.

What are the reasons? Am I stressed out? Well, yeah, about not sleeping, but nothing really other than that. In fact, the not sleeping really started after things calmed down - we got in our house, and our small group split got all sorted out, and life seems better than it has in a long time. I have been daring to hope again. This sleep thing is kind of mystifying.

So, give me your best sleep remedies. I’m willing to try different stuff. I clearly need to make a few changes. [Aside: I find it interesting that WebMD says "Melatonin is a popular herbal remedy for sleep problems. Experts disagree about its usefulness for sleep problems."]

It’s incredibly frustrating to me how a few hormones can make me act unreasonable.

Now, I know in Christian circles that women are expected to act as if all is sweetness and light, and never let fatigue or stress or hormones get to us, because “godly women” don’t act that way. You know what? I wish I didn’t sometimes feel unreasonable and then look at the calendar and realize it’s because of where I am in my cycle. I don’t want to be irritable. It’s not fun for me, and I would do whatever I could to prevent it. I think it’s insane that I can be fine one day and feel completely “off” the next. I take vitamins, and I try to eat well and exercise. I don’t know what else to do to make this not happen. My symptoms usually include fatigue and irritability, as well as just generally not being able to deal with normal problems or annoyances that wouldn’t give me pause the other three weeks of the month. And I cry. For no real reason. Sometimes I will wake up the next day and think, “Why was that such a big deal to me?” I have no idea, sometimes, what I was thinking and why I got so upset, even though it seemed like the end of the world at the time. I try to keep that in mind when I’m in the middle of things, but it doesn’t always work. I don’t enjoy not being in control of how I feel. I know sometimes women joke about being grumpy and moody, and it being fun to take it out on men, but the truth is that our hormones can make us feel completely unlike ourselves, which is not really funny or fun.

There’s not really a point to this, except I am frustrated and irritable, and I wish things didn’t have to be this way. And I’m still smarting from an interaction I had a few years ago, where someone who has never met me in real life basically told me that, if I’m a little more sensitive during “my female time” (TM my dad: “Kari, is this your female time?”) that it was sin. And I shouldn’t give into sin. Maybe this person was right, but maybe my most sensitive moments weren’t the right time for him to tell me that, either. I will be glad to listen to advice regarding herbal teas or exercising more, but if you think I’m in sin and you don’t have advice on how to help, I think you’re just out of line. If you don’t have a solution or some help to offer, it just sounds like criticizing to me, not “biblical wisdom.” I especially feel frustrated when it’s men saying, “If you give into your feelings, you aren’t acting like a godly woman.” I’d be glad to let you borrow the hormones for a few months, good sir, and we’ll see how stable you feel 25% of the time.

I agree that I shouldn’t be a slave to hormones. I just wish I had some idea how to begin that process.

“I can taste the fruit of Eve . . . ” -Sara Groves

Not only am I a coffee drinker, I am also a tea drinker. One of my favorite things to do is to have tea with my friends at the O. Henry hotel in Greensboro. They serve an Americanized afternoon tea every day, and the trays are loaded with goodies like scones and truffles and strawberries. I love to drink Darjeeling tea - it’s a black tea. I am not as much into the fruit flavors, although I have tried a few lately that I really enjoyed. I buy Twinings tea, mostly, but I also like a few of the Celestial Seasonings blends. The O. Henry only serves Twinings, since there is a plant here in Greensboro.

As a Southerner, I am also a big iced tea drinker. But it better be sweet tea if you are offering it to me. None of that, “You can add sugar at the table.” No. Thanks, but . . . no.

Why tea today? Two of my friends and I threw a tea party shower today at the O. Henry for a third friend of mine who is getting married this summer. This particular friend and I had a birthday tea party one year (our birthdays are ten days apart) and she told me that she wanted me to throw her a shower there if she ever got engaged. So we did. It was a lot of fun. I am not the most outgoing person, but I really made an effort to make sure everyone felt included and welcomed. Showers are the worst when you feel excluded. Combine being outgoing with losing that extra hour of sleep (and staying up late to watch basketball last night) and you get one tired Kari. But it’s a good tired . . . happy that everything worked out so well, and very very full of tea.

One of the men here at work makes a mean cup of coffee, so I am always glad when he gets here first and gets the pot started. I am at work early today, because I didn’t sleep well, and if I could, I’d just set up a coffee IV. I’m that tired. But, I thought if I was going to be awake, I might as well be getting paid for it.

I don’t drink coffee every day. Just on draggy mornings like this, and sometimes when I get cold after lunch. I’m not really particular about my coffee. I have a lot of friends, both online and off, who are self-admitted coffee snobs, but I don’t care that much. I am afraid to admit that I buy the store brand when I purchase coffee, but I would like to say, in my defense, that people have complimented my coffee when I have made it for them. Oh, and I tend to drink decaf as much as possible (although not this morning). My one coffee thing is that I don’t like hazelnut. If I’m over at someone’s house in the evening, the host[ess] will often say, “Do you want me to make some coffee?” And I’ll say, “Sure, if it’s decaf. I don’t want to stay awake all night” [of course, this is not really a concern these days since so many of my friends are nursing mothers who never make regular coffee anymore]. And then I will get stuck drinking hazelnut coffee out of politeness. Why is this? If I was going to make a flavored coffee, I’d warn the person before I made it. It’s always hazlenut, too. There are plenty of other flavors I like/don’t mind. When did hazelnut become the default flavor?

All the coffee snob talk got me thinking about what I am a snob about. Picture developing is one of the things - I like to get mine developed at one of the camera stores instead of at Target or a drugstore. I scrapbook, so I like to have the highest possible quality of pictures. I will admit to being fairly particular about buying good scrapbook stuff. Mike, as I have mentioned before, is a Diet Coke snob. He doesn’t like it in a can, or from a can over ice. He likes it from the fountain or in a 20-oz. I’m not really a music snob . . . I mean, I bought Clay Aiken’s CD and have been known to sing along with it when I’m driving (much to Mike’s chagrin). Plus, I like pop music. I watch reality television. I watch CBS for my news. I read books that are popular, and I watch shows about celebrities. I buy the store brand for lots of stuff. I am downright generic. Perhaps there are some things I am forgetting, but I think I’m not that particular about stuff in general. I think that probably comes from not having a lot of money growing up . . . we just didn’t get to be particular about things. We bought a lot of store brands. And there’s that Southern politeness - always be agreeable as much as possible. I guess I never really allowed myself to form many particular attachments. I certainly wouldn’t characterize myself as low-maintenance, though. Go figure.

Who wants to come clean on some of their snobberies (or complete lack thereof)? Come on, it feels good to admit I drink store brand coffee.