I like to call this: "because I can."

Ah, another week has passed without a bar in my closet to hang things on. So I sit here, typing away, when I in all reality I should be folding jeans and tee-shirts like the good girl I am. The days are getting long without anything to do anymore. I need another party. Maybe a Rex Manning Day...Oooooo.

On a sad note: I have no class on Wednesday.

I leave Friday for St. Louis for a rockin' New Years weekend. At the very least, there will be fireworks involved. Literal ones. Don't get your hopes up for me, kids. I've done that enough for both of us. Literal fireworks that explode and produce colored fire. Woo. If there are by any chance of God, figurative fireworks, I wouldn't hesitate in mentioning it.

*Here's to not smelling like a clothes basket.

So, things with me and Jesus haven't been the worst. We've been getting along famously. I've been honest with him. I've been meditating on his word like I usually do. I've even, lately, been good about listening to him. I have, however, been seeing signs of static that would incline me to think that right now, it might not be enough to simply be at that point. Who doesn't love a challenge, right?

So, we've got this kid living in the basement on and off, and he's just stirring up all sorts of dissensions. Trying to put ideas in my head that aren't and generally causing me to backtrack and rethink. A lot. It's beginning to affect me spiritually and I'm beginning to get pissed off enough to where if he keeps it up much longer, and doesn't move out on his own, I'm gonna bust his spiritual ass.

Now, I hear your thoughts going a hundred miles an hour, but the truth is: YES. Jesus would have taken him in if he'd had some place of his own. YES. Jesus loves him. YES. There are so many other things Jesus would have done. BUT. Jesus would not have ignored flags of ignorance or mischief and would not have blindly tolerated such behavior. He never did. He called a spade a spade, and I'm just about at that point.

So, if you see a certian man leave my house in tears with all of his stuff, just know I didn't suprise him with anything. I've been getting there boldy, to his face, since the beginning, letting him know I tolerate a lot of things, but will not tolerate blatent misuse of my charity and/or trust.

Again, just wanted him here when I came back.

So, although there are no fascinating pictures, and only word of mouth to go by, I believe the party was a success. It was the best party I've ever been to, but that's not going on much. There was egg nog, and 3/4ths of it, if not a little more, were gone by the end of the night. I had maybe four mugfuls left, out of a GIGANTIC vat. Holy carp, Marsha is a lush. I could smell that thing coming five feet away. My nose hairs were singed. I'm just glad I never had to take a drink of it.

My apologies for being so abrubt, I do have class to get to. If I can squeeze it in, maybe I'll get more details out about the party. For now, I just want to clear the record: he never gave me his heart, and I would have given him a hell of a lot more than a pen if he had.

Party central is preparing itself to be in full effect. I'm gearing up with a little "Rockin The Suburbs," baybee.

I have liquor in my home for the first time. Wild Turkey and Hennesy, as well as the German dark rum that my dad has. Martha Stewart, you friggin lush, this egg nog recipie better be friggin sweet and be consumed like candy tomorrow or else you owe me about fifty bones. Sixty, if you add the cost of shipping from Germany. I'm a little nervous about it, but the recipie calls for just about all of the liquor to be used, except for the rum. Sends nervous shivers down my spine just thinking about it. I haven't a single plan to consume any of it. Just to watch the effects...mwahahahaha!

All I have left to shop for this Christmas is my mom. I shall write a letter to her:

Dear mom,

Please be easier to shop for.

Love,
Me

Today has been progressive. When things get exciting, I get motivated to do everything I've said I need to do. It is getting me off my butt to do things that needed to be done since the day I looked at the house. Today I've been working on the stairway leading to my room. Tomorrow I'll finish them and Wednesday, dad will stain and poly the actual stairs themselves. I'll finish hanging all my pictures. I'll clean the bathroom up and down and consider moving on to the kitchen cabinets. I've cleaned all the windows and the radiators - which holy friggin cow...

We had our Christmas program at church on Sunday. It was nice and relaxing. The kids did their cute five minute program, all the parents teared up, Kristin and Trevor led every one in carols, and everyone ate sugar they knew they shouldn't. I'm sure Jesus would have chilled with us. It was no pressure.

So, I was at a restaurant with some friends last week that I've only known a couple months and haven't really gotten to know yet. Two of the guys, I guess, are always bringing up politics and religion because, I guess they just feel the need to be annoying? I don't know, but when they brought it up, my happy fun challenge light went on and I had a great time the entire night.

Well, one of them starts talking about Universalism (opt out instead of opt in Christianity). He starts the conversation with, "for all intents and purposes, I consider myself a born again Christian, but I buy into the Universalist school of thinking," but how he beileves we all start out predestined for heaven and unless we actively reject Christ, we're all bound for heaven which accounts for all the babies and people who will never hear the Gospel (capitalizing it because I know it's technically just theory to some of you) and whathaveyou.

He's getting all down on the idea because it lets a lot of folks he'd never want to visit heaven with in. Then proceeds to try to pull my sister's and my opinion out of us.

In the back of my mind, something's not right about what he just said, but I couldn't put my finger on it. We went through the whole night and instead of dancing (which was the entire purpose) we philosophize and wax poetic all night about policy and prostelitizing.

I get out to my car and start to clear it off when the friggin light goes off in my head. Damnit. They're all still inside, but it's midnight and I still have to wake up at 5, so I get in the car with my sister and tell her to dial one of them on the phone so they can pass it to this guy.

It doesn't get to him, so I relay the message through someone else who is entirely sloshed. Hilarious.

"For all intents and purposes, I consider myself a born again Christian, but I buy into the Universalist school of thinking."

By his own admission, he either booted himself out of the Universalist ideal of Christianity, or out of "born again" Christianity.

Conundrum.

I passed along the message that for him to be born again - which in fact, it was Jesus in John 3 who said, "Whoever wants to see the kingdom of heaven must be born again," - he totally had to have opted in.

I was dying the entire night and tossing and turning in my sleep. I hear a couple days later that he said, "Well, it's good that she turned back to something that Jesus said," and Friday at the Eagles Lodge, he comes up to me and says, "Now let's debate the Trinity."

So, I've discovered so many new emotions I didn't even know I could have. My "well" of experience (I have a well of experience and a well of non-experience) has just been brimming lately because it hasn't settled because I keep pouring new experiences into it. So, I've felt ownership over things before, but nothing like this. I imagine it's only about a nth of what Sarah felt the first time he held Issac, but dear God in heaven. I didn't work three days on my yard because now that it's mine, I'm supposed to. I did it because I'm so proud and excited and damned more lucky than I should be to have my own home. What did I do to deserve all this? I can't imagine it was ANYTHING I've ever done. The times I've been foolish sure as hell outweigh the times I've been faithful, I know that.



My Secret Santa this year sent me my FIRST piece of art. Ever. From someone else. From not me. From not Target or Walmart or Pier One. From not Japan. From not my parents stash. God in heaven, I couldn't be more excited! I wish I had a quality grade scanner, when I get one, or get off my butt and get it scanned from Kinkos or something, you shall all see it. In the meantime, the above picture stolen from A Very Long Engagement will give you a teeny-tiny idea. It's such an ungrand stolen picture from the internet, you have no idea how wicked AWESOME this art piece is in comparison. I'm so jealous of it. It is now a piece of my house.

And tonight, I dance.

Mmmm...all that hanging out with my sister is catching up with me. I was passed a cold from my niece and nephew. I shall sleep now...then dance.

Found a picture of my sister on the net from the Jitterbug's Halloween party. She went as Mary Catherine Ghallager and won first place. No kidding. And as if that wasn't great, it might sound silly, but I think my body is changing it's shape with all this dancing. I'd almost swear my butt has risen about two inches. Not gotten smaller, but risen like a helium-inflated baloon. It's interesting the things you recognize about your body when it's changing and you're not thirteen years old and oblivious.

My second set of party invitations were hand written, stamped and sent. I'm getting so excited for the season it's killing me! I'm so bummed I have to go back to work tomorrow. I just want to spend every hour of every day getting my house ready for my first ever Christmas in my own home. I'm so tempted to keep using my sick time and just not go back until the 2nd of 2006, but who has enough sick time, really?

I bought the best icebreaker in all of creation today. It's The Book Of Answers by Carol Bolt. It will be a party hit, I practically garantee. So fun.

The Christmas shopping is going well. I swear my sister is the easiest person in all of God's creation to shop for. I can't stop buying things for her. I spend half the time in shops thinking, "Oh my gosh, that's so Kristin." Then I turn around and think, there's about four other people in my life that I need to cash in on. I've got Logan finished and am working on Trevor. My folks went and bought every toy ever made for my niece, and my sister and brother-in-law are taking care of the stocking, so I am having the darndest time. Really. Mom and dad are the usual gift card/stocking stuffer. I always try to buy them books, but they are never read.

Good thing it's a three paycheck month!

My first set of party invitations have been all filled and passed out. I have the junior highers invitations to fill out tomorrow and mail Monday. I just remembered I also have Sunday school tomorrow morning (crap). I have been living busy. I still have a couple paintings I need to finish and start. I hate to say it, but work COMPLETELY feels like it's only getting in the way of my life. Ugh.

I hung stuff up in my room this week. My new calendar isn't good for another 28 days, but it's up. I've put up all my paintings, even the unfinished ones. I need to paint a wall or two so bad it's killing me. I also need to poly my floor something awful, although it's so slidey I don't know if I should tamper with it. Decisions, decisions...