Yes, well, me and the boys in blue down at the station are becoming fast friends. First, there was the break in at the office, where the ONLY thing taken was my laptop. Then there was my arrest. Then there was the drawn out process of getting my gun/car/cookie sheet back from the police. Then there was the thievery of my wallet.

It's almost comical. But I still feel strangely violated. A stranger rifling through my car looking for money, upending my purse, ripping through my glove compartment. I would rather enjoy curling up and whimpering like a puppy.


A Snippet Of Sunshine


This past Sunday I voluntarily went to church for the first time in a very, very long time. I was rather excited, simply for the reason that I have never wanted to go to church and this stage in my life is a very long time coming.

It wasn't that I wanted to go to church to feel better or to atone for my sins, but I wanted to go to church to learn and to meet other believers with the same questions.

I went, but almost left immediately. I didn't realize that Sunday School followed the morning worship and felt frightfully out of place. I didn't know where to go, didn't know anyone to sit with. I was awkward and uncomfortable. But I persevered, had a lovely time and afterwards met the assistant pastor. I vowed to go back for the next few weeks, because I think it's unfair to judge the church on a singular Sunday.

I tried going to the Wednesday night Bible study, but apparently it wasn't held at the church. So I showed up to a cold, dark church.

This morning, I was picking up a book that I had recommended to my sister, when checking out, I got to chatting with the cashier about John Piper and how he had changed my understanding of grace. She looked at me slightly quizzically and asked where I was going to church. I mentioned I was trying out a church, and said the name. She delightedly exclaimed "I go there! Why haven't I seen you?!" Because I just started?

She scribbled down her number, took mine and declared I must sit with them this Sunday. Or, if I fancy a cup of coffee, to call her. She'd love to discuss Piper with me.

I felt so welcomed. I hope I can do the same for a newcomer in church someday.

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Where Is The Line?


As a single woman in business, more often than not, you're subjected to compromising situations. As a single woman in business with morals and scruples you are frequently put into very awkward situations. You've got to accept rolling with the punches and not rocking the boat to a certain extent. Hell, I learned that a long time ago. You can't whine and whimper at every inappropriate made. You can't expect preferential treatment. You've got to learn to be one of the guys and be able to dish out, take it and not give a damn.

This week I was constantly being subjected to married men who were propositioning me. Which, given the scarcity of women at the conference, was hardly surprising. However, a comment someone made to me got me to thinking, where do you draw the line? When do you rock the boat and when do you just take it?

"It" being inappropriate comments, however slight. Disrespect of space and comfort level. When is it worth it to make a point and tell the letches to bug off? What is the trade off point of being "one of the boys" and being respected as a woman? Are the two mutually exclusive?

And while I have done absolutely nothing I am ashamed of, I still feel like after this week I need a good flea dip and delousing.

I don't really have answers for any of it, but it does have me thinking.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.


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