Annal 46: Tale from the Lack of a Title

I'm afraid that today's entry is going to be less about any specific event and more of a general rambling session.  I am feeling somewhat unmotivated while at the same token I am taken my a desire to write.  And so anyone who reads this shall have to suffer through my ramblings.  I apologize now.

My sister recently introduced my to the song "Big Girl, You are Beautiful" by Mika and I have spent the last sixteen hours or so singing it (I could swear it was going through my head even while I was sleeping).  It is my new favourite song, and perhaps the fact that I wish to choreograph a dance to it which myself and my bridesmaids shall have to dance to at my wedding is an indication of this.  Of course the fact that I am currently planning a dance which is to take place at the reception of the wedding which is not in the foreseeable future could contribute to such high readings of my quirk-o-meter.  Regardless, the moment I heard the line "Diet Coke and a pizza please," I was sold on the song.  This is because I so fully identify with it.  When I go out it doesn't matter what I am eating, I always order a Diet Coke to go with it.  Sigh... I definitely identify with this song.  If any woman ever wants to feel empowered and beautiful I would suggest listening to it.

I had a movie night last night and have officially been welcomed into that elite group of people who have watched and loved Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail.  I laughed, I cried in pain, I was moved.  This was followed by watching a couple of episodes of Black Books, a BBC television series about a drunk, Irish bookstore owner.  It was decided that were my one sister and I in that show, she would be the grouchy owner, and I would be the one who cooks, cleans, leaves boxes of books in the hallway, and walks around in a housecoat and fuzzy slippers.  What does this say about me?

Looking up a the picture I have created of myself: a slipper-wearing, book-in-hallway-leaving, Diet-Coke-drinking woman will forever respond to questions with the word "Nih!" I feel that the blinders have come off.  The proverbial scales have fallen from my eyes and I see clearly.  I am quirky.

Wait.  I feel like I have come to this realization before.  Like perhaps this blog has been a record of all my dealings with Mr. Wickham... oops... slipped into some Pride and Prejudice quoting there.  My apologies.  What I mean to say was that this blog has been a record of my recognition of my oddities.  Strangely, I find myself at ease with them... for today anyway!

Annal 45: Tale from the Playboy Mansion

I went for another invigorating run with my dad today and as always our conversation was inspiring.  We started off talking about a Joshua Harris book I'm reading right now, Dug Down Deep, a book on the doctrines of Christianity (excellent read, by the way), and then the talk evolved (is evolution always a good thing?). 

We were on the homeward stretch, which was good because I felt like my legs were going to give out and my lungs were going to collapse, when we passed another woman running.  She smiled and said hi.  The following then transpired between my father and I:

Dad: "Women runners are a lot friendlier to me when I run with you or your sister."
Me: "I guess they don't think you're a creepy old man, eh?" *Yes, 'eh.'  I'm Canadian so I figure I can get away with that*
Dad: "I guess not.  As long as they know you're my daughters and don't think I'm Hugh Hefner."
Me: "That would be a good thing for them to know."
Dad: "Of course if I was Hugh Hefner, you would be a bit old for my tastes."
Me: "Thanks, Dad, it's good to know I'm passed my prime for Hugh Hefner."

Yeah, apparently I am too old to be considered eligible for Playboy's founder... darn (I'm really choked up about this, can you tell?).  I guess I'll never get to live out my dream or residing in the Playboy mansion.

Such is the life of a Christian single.

Annal 44: Tale from Sudoku

I had another one of those awesome moments at work today where I realized that my life is somewhat pathetic and that may perhaps be why I am still single.

I worked the early shift (started at four-thirty) and was taking my lunch break.  I have come to the point where I always bring a pen with me to the staff room so that I can do the sudoku puzzles in the newspapers that people put on the table in there (cool, I know... just wait for it, it gets even better).

So there I was completely immersed in my puzzle when one of the cashiers suddenly leans over to grab another paper.  The following is the conversation that ensued.

Cashier: "Excuse me." Reaches to grab paper.
Me: "Oh gosh, no worries.  Sorry I wasn't paying attention."
Cashier: "I just didn't want to interrupt you doing your puzzle."
Me: "I tend to get a little involved in them." Laughs slightly.
Cashier: "No worries." Smiles nicely.
Me: "Yeah, I am just that cool, you know.  I can't wait to get into the staff room so that I can do the Sudoku puzzles.  I'm kind of pathetic."
Cashier: Laughs.

So not only am I the epitome of cool who does newspaper Sudoku puzzles on my lunch breaks, but I then ramble on to the nice cashier about how pathetic my life is that I get excited to do them.  Did I really just tell a nice stranger about my pathetic life?

Just a shift or two ago one of the ladies I work with vowed that she would find me a man by the end of the summer.  Apparently she has her eye on some attractive officers.  I laughed and wished her luck.  After today's encounter I am beginning to think she will need more than prayer... she will need divine intervention!

Such is the life of a Christian single.

Annal 43: Tale from the Future... Via the Past

I had the most horrible sense of foreboding earlier this week.  Really, it was quite traumatizing.  I was watching Cranford with a friend (because as I have mentioned I seem to spend most of my free time watching BBC adaptations of classics), and I saw what could be my future through this view into the past.

Cranford follows the lives of the women who live in a rather small town.  All of the women are either widowed or have never been married and are well into their fifties and sixties.  The result of this lack of marriage is that when a young doctor comes to town, half the women become convinced he is in love with them, while the other half try to convince the previous half of his interest.  It turns into one incredibly tangled, love hectagon that has you cringing by the end, just hoping that something will work out (specifically for this doctor who doesn't know what he has done to make so many women believe he loves them).

I'm odd.  I'm single.  I live in a small town.

I have discovered that perhaps my greatest fear is that I will turn into a Cranford woman.  And so I have devised a list to keep this from happening.

1. Pray really, really, REALLY hard that this never happens.
2. Not a big fan of big cities, so simply move from town to town so that I don't have the chance to set up roots like these women.
3. Once I pass the age of forty I will stay away from all attractive doctors (does this include optometrists and dentists?)
4. Pray really, really, REALLY hard that this never happens.
5. I never thought I would say this: never allow my single friends to outnumber my married friends.
6. If it seems like all hope is lost, apply to be a mail-order bride.
7. Possibly pray... I have heard it helps!

Such is the life of a Christian single.

Annal 42: Tale from Watering Plants

Today has begun as a day of epic coolness.  A friend was out of town for the last few weeks and I agreed to water her plants.  It has rained every day since she left, but now that we had two days in a row of sunny weather, I made my way over to see if her flowers needed any watering.  I took my more-or-less-nephew (who from here on in I will just refer to as my oldest nephew) with me, which he thought was just the coolest thing.  I'm going to insert here that my oldest nephew likes to assign each member of our family a superhero.  For example, everyday I am Jean Grey (telepath and telekinetic from the X-Men) while he varies.  Today he was Spiderman.

We watered the plants without a hitch, but it was as we finished up the job that things began to get exciting.  All of a sudden my little guy took off running from the backyard to my car yelling, "The monsters are after us!"  So we hustled to the car, I got him in his booster seat, and we "sped" out of the alleyway.

From this point on the bad guys just didn't leave us alone.  I tried to put up a force field on the car so that bad guys couldn't see it, but they were already on the vehicle and tearing it apart.  So my oldest nephew started shooting his webs at them, and then we were free.  We made it to the bank, and as we got out of the car he started looking around cautiously.  The next words out of his mouth were, "I'll protect you.  Where are the bad guys?"

Hearing those words from the mouth of a four year old can't help but make you feel safe and taken care of!

While I sometimes think that being single is a superhero job all in itself, I sometimes think it would have been much more manageable if God could have given me the ability to fly or move things with my mind... besides, superheroes never lack for romantic attention!

Such is the life of a Christian single.