out of Kadesh

Yesterday Lance and I went out to his sister’s house for some kid love. We were hanging out with my sister-in-law in the kitchen and one by one the four toe-headed Owen children came up from the basement, each in various Spiderman and/or Princess Jasmine costumes, where they were playing a rousing game of “Wear Out Grandmommie So She Sleeps Really Well Tonight” (I think the game was supposed to work the other way around, but I doubt that it did).

When the baby, Carys, came up (she’s only two so it takes her the longest to climb stairs), she caught sight of me and her eyes got real wide and her jaw dropped to the floor like she’d never seen me before in her life. And then she yelled “OH! BOGGIE!!!” which is her version of my name, and ran over at top speed for much squeezing and kissing. That wasn’t even my fav part though, although that was enough to make me melt into a big puddle of butter in the floor. My fav part is when Lance came inside from grilling and Carys did another “OHHHH!” gasp, then ran over to him at the sink and hugged the back of his legs. I seriously almost died right there.

Then she wow’ed us by showing us how she can now count to ten (“ume, doo, fwee, fo, ive, wix, eva, eeet, eye, en!!!”) And that was the point when my soul floated straight to Heaven. In fact, I’m writing this post while playing the harp on a cloud, all while overlooking the most precious niece anyone has ever seen.

After dinner my mother-in-law paid for us to go see the movie “Fireproof” with I AM A CHRISTIAN, HEAR MY ROAR AND PLEASE FORGET ABOUT MY SINFUL DAYS ON THAT SHOW GROWING PAINS star Kirk Cameron. The movie was very cheesetastic, as you might expect, but I appreciated the point they were trying to make about marriage, and, all things considered, Kirk Cameron did a decent job in the acting department (which may or may not be merely a commentary on how horrifyingly horrible the other actors were).

When we came home from the movie, my very upright, proper, southern, Christian, right-winged mother-in-law took the phone and went to bed, and Shannon confessed that every night that she’s been here, she takes the phone to bed to talk to my father-in-law. “Awesome!” I said. “They’re totally having PHONE SEX!” Yep, I said it. And you were thinking it too!!! Seriously people, GET THOSE MINDS IN THE GUTTER WHERE THEY BELONG! I hope to God Lance and I are having phone sex at the age of 70, and that my kids KNOW ABOUT IT!

While the weather is getting colder
I can’t help thinking about brightly wrapped packages and snow
The glow of a fire
And despite the strange juxtaposition, slowly my soul is beginning to feel warmer
Like a sip of hot cocoa the weather heats me up inside
And melts the ice chips off my heart

All year I’ve worn a heavy coat of anger and despair
And now as I take my wool jacket out of the closet
And moth balls fall to the floor
I think it’s time to take off that other coat
And feel the release of bulky weight

Because it’s just that time of year
And I pray that when the flowers start to bloom again next year
And everyone around me begins to take off their winter clothing
My despair won’t be waiting for me, and if it is, I’ll turn the other way
I pray a winter bliss holds on
And warms my soul till next Christmas

I went to Party Depot today, and while I was there I realized something. I really am horrified of Party Depot at Halloween. Maybe it’s all the SEVERED LIMBS and BLOODY, MANGLED CORPSES HANGING FROM THE CEILING, I dunno. But seriously, when did Halloween get so scary?? I know it’s Halloween, but when I was a kid I dressed up as a princess, an angel, a rockstar… a twelve-year-old Virgin Mary… I NEVER asked “Hey Mom, can I be Satan or any of his minions this year? Or that girl from The Ring? Or anything else that makes you want to ralph when you see me all dressed up?” But these kids in Party Depot today were all “I want that box of bloody fingernails!” “I want to be a horrible, eyeless, soul-less, machete-wielding psychopath this year!!” and I was thinking, “Kid, if you come to my door expecting candy I’m going to shit my pants.”

It’s just… Halloween always seemed fun and imaginitive for me, not a horror movie come to life. Is it just me? What are your Trick-or-Treat memories?

On Sunday I went to a surprise birthday party for one of the actors in The Lieutenant of Inishmore. There was a buffet table with candles all over the place, food, and some paper eating products. (Do you see where this is going??) So I pick up a paper plate and I’m loading it up with some chick pea salad when my girlfriend, Jackie, calls my name from across the room. She and some other people are standing there staring at me, wide-eyed, pointing at…me? Suddenly, my hand starts to get very warm. Yes, people, I had SET. MY PLATE. ON FIRE! And what does an intellegent, suave, classy woman do in a situation like this? I have no idea. But here’s what I did: while shrieking and waving my arms, I DROP the now flaming ball of plate onto a PILE OF PAPER NAPKINS! Yes! I am that girl.

And I just stood there. Seriously! I was so shocked that I just stood there watching the fire like some drugged out pyromaniac, imaging the building burning down and all of us having to run for our lives. Luckily, the people around me didn’t attempt to put the fire out with their cups of vodka. Instead, they all started patting the fire in utter panic. WITH THEIR BARE HANDS. All the while I stood there gaping at them in slow motion like a spaced out lunatic. When the fire died and smoke and embers were all that remained of the buffet, we all kind of looked at one another, panting, sweating, hair stuck to our faces, like we’d just had the most amazing night of our lives. Some people chuckled, some asked others if they were alright. I just passed out.

I owe you all a huge thank you, especially you, Guy in the Plaid Shirt with Facial Hair, for saving my job, the Theatre, the birthday party, and all our lives. Please, please, please, don’t sue the Theatre, because they’ll charge me, and I have less than $3 in my checking account. And thank YOU, George and Jackie, for telling everyone in the ENTIRE FREE WORLD what happened. Because the 200 people at the party who witnessed it first hand weren’t enough.

Two Thanksgivings ago, in what became widely known as “The Worst Thanksgiving to Ever Go Down in the History of History,” I experienced the hugest, most horrific family falling out that you’ve ever heard of. Some truly awful things were brought to light and accusations were thrown and you just wouldn’t believe it if I told you the whole story. You can’t buy that kind of drama, no joke.

After that night, I sat down and wrote my Granny a letter that I either should have written years ago, or never written at all (and most often I lean towards the latter). It was painful to write, as I was finally telling the truth about some things that I hoped I could keep buried forever. I prayed hard before sending it, and my family and friends encouraged me that it was the right thing to do. My grandmother read it, called my parents and told them I was a liar, called ME and told me I was a liar, hung up, and she hasn’t spoken to me since. Last Christmas she wrote me a check for $60, which was one of the most humiliating and insulting things that anyone has ever done to me. I just opened it up and stared at it, tears stinging the back of my eyeballs.

I dream about my grandmother and her husband at least once a week, and those dreams are absolutely haunting. We’ll just be in the kitchen talking, or opening Christmas presents, or drinking coffee, like it used to be. It will be two years this Thanksgiving, and my stomach knots just thinking about the holiday that I used to love. Now it merely serves as a painful reminder that one of the most important relationships in my life has been broken forever.

I bring that up because I have never felt as lonely as I feel right now, in this season of my life. I know people are suffering in much worse ways than I, but this week I had an epiphany (mostly due to Pastor Heather on Saturday). Grief is grief. It doesn’t matter that in comparison, I’m actually probably not so bad off. I tend to think about that as tears well up, and I push the tears away, as if I have no right to be sad. And maybe compared to a LOT of people I don’t. But all the reasoning and comparing in the world doesn’t matter when I STILL HURT. My heart is so heavy. It’s times like these that I wonder WHAT AM I DOING WRONG??? When did my mother start prefering my cousin to me? When did my father decide he’d rather die than just PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE AND CALL ME??

And then there’s the side of me that feels SO. ANGRY. at myself because I let my cards show. My boss called me into her office last week to say she could see something was wrong, and wanted to know if I was ok, and I can’t even explain to you how much of a failure that makes me feel. But here it is again - Grief. Is. Grief. There’s just no way to sweep all this pain under the rug, and as Pastor Heather said Saturday, how can God deal with my pain if I won’t let Him?

Me: “I just feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”

Him: “You belong with me.”

In the morning when I rise
In the morning when I rise
In the morning when I rise
Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
Give me Jesus

And when I am alone
And when I am alone
And when I am alone
Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
Give me Jesus

And when I come to die
And when I come to die
And when I come to die
Give me Jesus

Give me Jesus
Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
Give me Jesus

On Sunday Lance and I went to see the Jim Henson exhibit at the Smithsonian. It was one of those perfect fall days, and as we walked up the National Mall I looked around me and thought, I am so lucky. I live in this great city where tourists and natives alike come downtown to explore and take pictures and play kickball on the lawn, and the street vendors are selling pretzels, and there’s a guy up there selling Obama t-shirts, and here I am about to see an awesome muppets exhibit for free in one of the many museums surrounding me, and how many people can say that?

So I was basking in the peace of the moment as we passed in front of the African American “Obama for Prez!” t-shirt salesguy. And as we walked by him, he yelled out “Obama t-shirts! Get your Obam…. (noticing us) …I mean, McCain! Get your McCain t-shirts right here!”

I recant. I really hate this effing racist city.

This is what my mother used to tell me. I know it’s crass, but after the conversations I had this week I realized that it is SO TRUE. I learned that you don’t talk about politics in social settings because someone gets their feelings hurt, someone else gets angry, someone else gets defensive… and seriously people, why argue with each other? You’re not going to talk me out of my political beliefs, and I’m not going to talk you out of yours. And if we can’t be mature enough to listen to each other’s views with an open mind, I feel like we should just learn to disagree and be ok with it. That said, I have decided to exploit my personal blog where no one can bicker with me, and say something that is probably going to shock many of you even though I think that’s silly. However, it’s important that I clear this up once and for all.

I am a Christian, and I am a democrat.

I’m not a democrat because it’s the cool thing to be; I am a democrat because I tested myself with several tests (go here to find out what YOU truly are) and each time those tester guys told me so, and I BELIEVE THEM OK!? And I’m not a Christian because I grew up in the Bible Belt and that’s how I was raised; I am a Christian because the Lord loved me when I was unlovable, pursued me with passion, held me together when I was suicidal, and gave me joy that I never thought possible. I am a different person because of Him, and believe me, you wouldn’t like the old me. AND because I believe that Christ was a flaming liberal and turned people’s belief systems and world views upside down, and I feel that’s so what this demented world needs. (Don’t believe me? Go to foxnews.com and read those headlines. If you aren’t sickened by what you see then there is NO HOPE FOR YOU and you should just stop reading my blog.)

I am voting for Obama. One reason is because I believe that if we elect McCain, then why not just keep Bush in office for another four years, and WHO WANTS THAT? I am not saying I am right or wrong; I am simply stating my own personal OPINION, one that I have thought about and yes, even prayed about. I realize that generally my outlook on life is too liberal for my Christian friends, and too Christian for my liberal friends, and guess what? I am ok with that, even if my friends are not. I promise that I won’t judge you, so PLEASE don’t judge me. Please just have your own opinions and I will have mine, and we can all pull a John Lennon and “give peace a chance.” (I heard that song on the radio Sunday morning and therefore I woke up happy, obviously.) Ok?

Here is something else I learned over the weekend: NEVER, under ANY circumstances, eat enchiladas when you’ve had only 5 cups of coffee to eat all day. If you do, you will be re-enacting those Imodium AD commercials where the guy is talking to some chicks in a hot tub and suddenly he has to get up and run to the bathroom. (Except, in my case, minus the chicks and the hot tub, and plus some fully clothed friends.) And just like no one likes McCain, NO ONE likes diarrhea. (KIDDING!)