Anne & May

We've Moved!

2008-07-25T09:34:00.000-07:00

Are you looking for Anne Dayton and May Vanderbilt?

We've moved over to our new site: www.anneandmay.com

Hope to see you there!

People Come and Go So Quickly Around Here

2008-07-23T20:39:00.000-07:00

You know what I’m tired of? People leaving.

I said goodbye to another friend tonight. He’s moving back home to Texas. We’ve been friends for ten years, and now he’s leaving.

I know, New York is a transient place: people come for a while, then they leave. That’s the nature of a place where people come to make it. They’re here for a purpose, and then they’re gone. I guess you have to kind of accept that, but every year, we say goodbye to more and more friends, and you know what? It’s hard.

I mean, you come here and you get to know people. You spend time together. You watch them get married, and have babies. You’re a part of it all. You build your life with these people. And then they leave.

I’m whining, I know, but it’s painful to have it happen again and again. And I’m not saying people shouldn’t do what they have to do, or chase their dreams, or follow where God takes them, but I am saying that it’s weird to know someone for so long and then have them pick up roots and move somewhere else. On the plus side, I now have friends all over the country. But also, and mainly, I’m tired of saying goodbye.

How do you all deal with this? Or, (May) what’s it like when you’re the one who leaves? Is this just a part of life?

I was trying to find a video of the scene from The Muppets Take Manhattan when they all split up and go their own ways after they move to New York together? Does anyone remember this? What does it say about me that I was thinking about something serious and the best way I could illustrate it was The Muppets? Anyway, I couldn’t find the video, but here’s the trailer. What a good film.

Debt in America

2008-07-22T21:43:00.001-07:00

A few years ago my mother, a public school Kindergarten teacher for many years, retired to take care of her ailing father. But once he passed away she missed teaching and went back to her job, even as we tried to talk her into staying retired and relaxing a little.

Flash forward to the current recession. As I'm sure you've heard, Florida was one of the biggest bubbles for the real estate market and now has some of the highest rates of foreclosure. Last time I visited home it was scary to see so many foreclosure signs but it still felt like everything was going to be okay in the end. We live on the beach! It will bounce back, we said.

But a funny thing happens when people get foreclosed on...they don't pay property taxes anymore. And when they don't pay property taxes, the local school system goes bankrupt. The school district in my hometown cut a third of all jobs this summer, just to stay afloat, and the teacher's union dictates--last in, last out. And so it was that my mom lost her job and is now having to polish up her resume after 30 years of tireless service. The odds of her getting one of the few positions actually open in the county are slim to none and she's already trying to think of ways to volunteer because she knows she'll miss the kids so much.

This is my family's story about the recession--and truthfully we're the lucky ones and we know that. So many people have been hit so much harder and I find myself curious about their stories. I want to hear how they're coping and what we all can do to lend a hand.

This past weekend I stumbled across an amazing piece in the New York Times called The Debt Trap. It focuses on how Americans are carrying more debt than they will ever be able to pay back in their lifetimes and the predatory lenders who extend them these loans. But ultimately this feature is the story of our recession.

[Just use the Series Index at the bottom and watch the three videos. I had tears rolling down my face at the end. There's also a debt calculator that you can have some (grim) fun with and a chart showing how debt has grown in our country, while savings continue to decline.]

This is the first serious recession I've really known, because I was in college during the dot com bust--and I find it very scary, very sobering, and very, very sad.

--May

Miley, etc.

2008-07-21T17:20:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Karen for bringing this to our attention: Miley Cyrus says she’d "love to do a younger, cleaner version of 'Sex and the City" (possible title: "Absolutely No Sex and the City").

Can’t you just see Miley playing Emily of Emily Ever After?

Miley! Call us!

Ok, back to reality.

We are SO close to unveiling a new website for you all. Wayne has been hard at work coding and designing and… uh… webbing and stuff. We’re really excited about the new site! But I’m giving you fair warning, so when you come to this site one day (hopefully later this week) and it looks totally different, you can’t freak out. It will still be us. Just taller, and better looking.

In other news, it’s hot, and I haven’t been able to go running (I like to sweat but I’m not suicidal), and my brain is fried, and I’m getting very excited because next week we’re going to Cape Cod. My friend has a house there (with a tennis court! I don’t play tennis, but it’s cool anyway. And a golf cart! I love the golf cart!), and he’s letting us stay there to hang out at the beach and read and just chill. I cannot wait. The house doesn’t have internet or cable, and I plan to do nothing more strenuous than turning pages. Ah. It’s my idea of a perfect vacation.

What’s your idea of a perfect vacation? Anyone have any fun summer plans?

Pew Widow

2008-07-20T21:23:00.000-07:00

Slang seriously cracks me up. I love it when British people say "Crikey!" and "fancy that!" and "bother!" I love it when teens say "busted!" and "mos def!" and "tope!" And so I sort have this soft spot in my heart for dorky Christian slang.

I bust out laughing when Christians say someone is "missionary dating." And it cracks me up when we say "h - e - double hockey sticks." But one of my absolute favorite Christian slang terms is: pew widow. A pew widow is someone who must sit alone every Sunday as the rest of her family sleeps in/watches the Cartoon Network/goes fishing etc.

I've only ever heard it used by a woman in jest, like, "Oh Tom's going to the ballgame and making me a pew widow again." But as funny as it is that we have a term for this, I, for one, cannot stand being a pew widow. In fact, I have an absolute fear of attending church by myself.

In general I'm a very friendly lass who does virtually nothing alone. I'm the sort of person you can call up at the last moment and I will always, always say yes. I'm a rabble-rouser to the core and I love nothing more than to be surrounded by a nice gaggle of friends. Big parties? My bag, baby!

And so it was that as this weekend approached I grew more and more nervous. All my friends were attending the BlogHer conference in San Francisco and tied up. My fiance was out of town. And my closest church friend is currently spending her summer in the wilds of Minnesota. In short, every day I inched closer to Sunday, the picture of me sitting all alone in a pew became clearer and clearer.

I got cold feet. I just couldn't do it. I know that church is about community, but my community had bailed on me. And sure I could have used today as an opportunity to make new friends but I...flinched in the face of the challenge.

As it turns out my church offers live webcasts and even podcasts of every sermon! I get that these are intended for shut-ins, but it was awfully nice given my bout of extreme paranoia. Here's how to get them yourself, if you're interested. It's very easy and of course 100% free.

Am I the only person with this fear? I tell you what, it reminded me to be a little friendlier during the passing of the peace portion of the service. Sometimes, just getting there and making it through can be the hardest part of all.

--May

This Week in God

2008-07-17T19:42:00.000-07:00

First off, I’d like to announce the proud winners of my iPhone Giveaway!

Natalie was the first to claim the empty can of Guru, so she’s now the proud virtual owner of an empty piece of metal! Congrats, Natalie!

Bethany wins the empty bottle of SmartWater, and has graciously offered a trade: I get to keep the bottle (the possibilities!) in exchange for adding a link to her blog. Done and done.

Kara, who lives in New Zealand, wins the passes to Equinox Gym in New York City! Hooray for Kara and the useless passes!

And Felicity wins the t-shirt, which she may or may not share with Serenity.

Congratulations to all the winners, and thanks for playing. Kara and Felicity, could you send me your addresses?

Moving on.

The New Yorker stirred up quite the controversy this week with its recent cover depicting Barack and Michelle Obama in traditional Muslim garb, burning an American flag, presumably posing as terrorists. The cover cheesed off Muslims and pretty much everyone else, and though the magazine maintains the cover is meant to be satire, my copy of this week’s magazine is going straight where it belongs: Into the pile with all the other unread New Yorkers, where it will stay until I get stressed out by the stack and throw the all in the recycling bin. Take that, terrorists.

Boy was I glad that I was out of town and therefore not trying to walk anywhere near my office on 34th Street on Monday. I somehow managed to escape the Hugging Saint. Mata Amritanandamayi, who claims to have hugged 27 million people, made a stop in New York this week, where crowds of people waited in line for hours on 34th street and didn’t even get an iPhone at the end of it all. Apparently they just lined up to get hugs. Makes perfect sense.

Serenity Prayer (“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…”) is under attack! Or, actually, just the authorship of it is. Apparently there’s some doubt that the theologian who is said to have written the prayer actually did so, which ruined the serenity of people who care about such things this week.

And Yoko Ono, haven’t you done enough already? I didn’t think it could get worse than breaking up the Beatles, but her lawsuit over the use of John Lennon’s song “Imagine” in Ben Stein’s movie Expelled, (we talked about it here), about Intelligent Design, meant the film had to be pulled out of theaters. Thankfully (?) the case has been dismissed, the movie is being re-released, and Yoko Ono can go back to being the one who ruined it for all of us.

By the way, I saw Kirk Cameron this week. Sadly, I didn't have enough time to stand in line for his autograph, and I somehow missed Tootie from the Facts of Life as well, but to even be in the same room with such greatness...

The Holy Land!

2008-07-16T19:32:00.000-07:00

Today, one of my life’s dreams was fulfilled. I got to go to the
Holy Land Experience theme park!

What’s the Hoy Land Experience, you ask? It’s basically like Disneyworld, if Disneyworld were tiny, low-budget, owned by the Trinity Broadcasting Network, and completely devoted to recreating the world as it was when Jesus walked, minus all historical accuracy. It was amazing.

I’ve been obsessed with this place for years, and this week I was in Orlando for work, so I knew I had to go. I basically arranged my schedule so I would have this afternoon free to check it out. I wasn’t really sure why anyone would come to Orlando and choose to spend one of their days here instead of one of the Disney parks or Seaworld or Universal or something, but there were plenty of people there, and I’m pretty sure all of them were better Christians than me, because no one else seemed to find the place as hilarious as I did.

I mean, for one thing you walk in and you have to go through the gift shop to get to the real attractions, which is genius/terrifying. It’s also kind of bizarre that there are random plaster animals all over the place, all of which seem to be arranged by whim and not by anyone who has any actual knowledge of the animal kingdom. I loved that the shark and the lion were friends, as were the kangaroo and the monkey, and Zaccheus, the meerkats, and the terrifyingly large butterfly.

The shark, by the way, is part of the display where you walk through the Red Sea and get sprayed by water.

If that wasn’t enough water for you, you could be photographed with a plaster Jesus calming the storm.

Or you could take a look at a model of Noah’s ark, which sort of oddly resembled the loft condos springing up all over Brooklyn. My favorite part is that there were dinosaurs in the ark.

This is the temple or something. I don’t really know what happens there.

Here’s some evidence that a gardener has too much time on his hands.

Here’s the Ten Commandments. I’m pretty sure they’re the actual ones Moses brought down from Sinai.

Here’s me with some random centurians or something. I didn’t really have the heart to ask them what they were supposed to be.

Here’s me in front of the empty tomb.

But without a doubt, the highlight of the afternoon was when Jesus came out. We were all gathered around waiting to meet the son of God at the appointed time at the right place, and then I looked up and realized he was there (it was pretty anti-climatic) and had already started posing for photographs. I wasn’t sure whether I should be disappointed that he didn’t do much of anything except provide photo ops, but I decided to just stop being cynical and get in line.

Jesus was very good with the kids, getting down on his knees and talking to them and telling him very seriously how much he loved them. It was petty sweet, really, which is why I was so surprised when it was my turn and Jesus put his arm around me and asked where I was from. I told him New York, and his response was, “I won’t hold it against you.” He then proceeded to tell me I didn’t have an accent, and I explained that I’m originally from California (I would have thought that'd be one of the things he would have known about me, like how many hairs are on my head, but oh well). He smiled, and then it was the next person’s turn. People always say meeting Jesus is going to be amazing, and I’m here to say, based on my experience today, they’re right. I can only hope that when I actually get to heaven, the conversation goes so well.

Sadly, I only had a few hours, so I didn’t get to see the collection of ancient manuscripts, and the only show I was able to take in was Praise Through the Ages, in which the performers traced the history of worship music all the way from Jesus’ time to the pinnacle that is Christian Contemporary Music. But maybe some day I’ll make it back when I have more time. Or there’s always eternity.

Say Yes to the Insanity

2008-07-15T21:45:00.000-07:00

You know how they always say pregnant women crave, like, peanut butter on pickles at midnight with a scoop of rocky road ice cream? Well, I swear getting married is giving me weird TV cravings. I have this recent obsession that I'm sure exactly no one shares with me and truly I cannot fully even explain to myself.

Say Yes to the Dress.

Even just typing the title sends a frisson of excitement through my veins. It's like a drug that is calling me and what should I say in response? YES! And it's on the Learning Channel. Seriously, how did people learn before The Learning Channel? And don't you dare say books, smarty pants, because the kind of thing you learn on TLC cannot be found in books, like exactly what a home birth looks like, exactly what it would be like to raise sextuplets with a set of twins, and...how to buy an expensive wedding dress in Manhattan.

Men who read this blog right now are saying to themselves, they have shows for this? THEY DO!

For those of you who haven't seen Say Yes to the Dress, and I'm assuming that's ALL of you, it's a reality TV show set in Kleinfeld Bridal in Manhattan. The show tries to sell this place as the premier bridal salon of NYC but I have to tell you...I don't know if that's true. All the Manhattan ladies I knew when I lived there either went cheap and funky or dipped into their future children's college funds at Vera Wang.

The show follows the sales ladies at Kleinfeld Bridal as they try to convince brides-to-be, and usually their Nanna, their weeping mother, their doting and slightly menacing dad, and assorted aunts and cousins, to buy an extremely expensive wedding dress. And for some reason, this is really compelling.

I think for me, it's slightly reassuring that I'm not the only person in the world that struggled with this. But it's also like a train wreck that I can't turn away from. Probably no show on TV can compare when it comes to shedding light on the billion-dollar wedding industrial complex--and the way it exploits the anxiety a woman has surrounding her wedding day.

Sometimes you laugh at them or sometimes you laugh with them. Sometimes you almost want to cry. And once in a very long while, you actually like a dress one of the brides chooses. And Jersey accents ABOUND. All in all, typical TLC stuff and yet I can't turn away. Chalk it up to weird pre-wedding cravings.

--May

It's on Tuesday nights at 8/7c if I've convinced you. No? What about this clip?

iPhone Giveaway!

2008-07-14T13:29:00.000-07:00

Now that I’ve got your attention, I have to admit I’m not actually giving away an iPhone. I’m actually giving away all the free stuff I got while I waited in line for an iPhone.

We were pretty excited about the release of the new, more affordable iPhone around here, since our phone contract was up and we needed new phones and Wayne’s a tech geek and we like shiny new toys. And I was going out of town on Sunday, so I wanted it before then, so after my half-day Friday (OMG I love summer hours so much) we went down to the Apple store in the Meatpacking District. It’s one of the three Apple stores in New York, the one we thought would be least crowded because it’s kind of out of the way.

We were wrong. We started laughing when we saw the line was down the block (I mean, people were lining up to pay a lot of money for phones! Insane!), but we dutifully got in line and started waiting. We figured it would be an hour or two, and proceeded to enjoy the sunshine. I guess we should have been more worried by the fact that they were passing out umbrellas for shade and water, but four and a half hours later when we finally made it inside the store we were hot, sweaty, sunburned, and dehydrated. And then there was the wait inside the store, which was also ridiculous, but blessedly air-conditioned.

I know, it sounds insane. What kind of person would spend eight hours (by the time we walked out phones in hand, it had been a full work day) for this? The answer is, no one who knew what they were getting into. But once you’ve wasted two hours waiting, it’s hard to just get out of line. Once you’re so close you can almost see the phones, you can’t turn back or it will have all been for naught (I mean, it kind of is anyway, but you know what I mean). We would never have done it if we'd known how long it was going to take. I could have waited a week.

Anyway, I am not going to complain too much about our interminable, horrific, insanely long wait, because I realize how ridiculously blessed I am to be in a position where I could waste a day waiting to pay a lot of money for something I don’t really need. It’s not like we were waiting to fork over our savings for bread or anything. We asked for it. But I am going to remark on the fact that there was this weird excitement in the air, and this weird vibe of collegiality. In addition to getting a ton of reading done in line, we made friends with the people around us. There was a sense that we were all in this together somehow, and everyone was sharing umbrellas and snacks and chatting. It was kind of a fun time.

And part of that was due to the fact that there were some really smart people out there promoting their products to a captive audience. So today I’m giving away everything I got free while I waited in line for my iPhone, not including the sunburn, sore muscles, and the feeling of despair that hit around hour six.

First off: an empty bottle of Smart Water.

If they were really so smart, they would have charged me for it, but as I got it free, I’m sharing the wealth. I could even fill it with genuine New York City tap water if the recipient wanted, though not if I have to mail it because I think that’s against postal regulations.

Next up: Passes to Equinox gym, which apparently calls itself ""THE BEST GYM IN AMERICA"" (I was quoting the quotes there, in case you couldn't tell) with locations all over New York and probably some other places too.

I’m not entirely sure these are valid, but I already have a gym so I’m too lazy to go find out. They were handed to me by some skinny girls in Equinox gear who informed me, as I stood in the sweltering July sunshine, that I could be at their pool instead of standing in line. I didn’t point out that their pool didn’t have an iPhone at the end of it and just took the passes and smiled. I’ll mail these anywhere to anyone who wants them.

I also got this absolutely nasty bottle of energy drink called Guru.

Now, I like some energy drinks, and I applaud this company for their foresight in sending a coterie of scantily-clad girls in pastel-colored mini-cars to cheer up the line of mostly male Apple diehards. That’s just smart business. But this stuff tastes like vomit. After weighing the environmental consequences (the label says all-natural, but after tasting it I don’t buy it) I decided it couldn’t be much worse on the fishies in the Hudson than the antifreeze already in the gutter, and I poured it out.

Still, the bottle is pretty cool. I’m not actually going to send this empty can anywhere, because that’s kind of weird, but if someone lays claim to it in the comments I will declare them the winner and they get the honor of knowing they won.

But here’s the best part. Someone was handing out these free t-shirts and saying something about Jessica Simpson, so how could I resist? I reached for one and knew I’d struck gold. Here’s the shirt:

I saw a picture of Jessica Simpson wearing this sucker in one of the gossip rags earlier this week!

I remembered it because while I recognized it was funny, I also found it kind of maddening. PETA slammed her for it, too, and published a list of reasons why only stupid girls brag about eating meat. Seriously. (PETA, why do you do this to me??).

Anyway, it turns out the shirt is actually an ad for Primehouse, which I guess is a steakhouse in New York or something.

It’s a cute shirt, but as I’ve been a vegetarian for most of my life, it holds little appeal for me. I’m giving it away to the first commenter who claims it. It’s never been worn, except for when Wayne put it over his head to keep from getting sunburned before we managed to snag an Apple umbrella/parasol. It's size extra-large, though that's super-model sized or something because it fits me perfectly and I'm tall but not exactly huge, if you know what I mean.

All you have to do to win one of these treasures is post a comment telling me what you want (though let’s not get greedy when the stakes are so high. Please request only one). If you’re the first commenter requesting a specific item of wonderfulness (except the energy drink can), you win and I’ll contact you.

It’s just my way of spreading the joy.

Pulling the Plug

2008-07-13T22:37:00.000-07:00

It's currently 10:40pm and I'm just getting started on my blog post for tomorrow (Monday), but for a change, procrastination isn't the reason. Today, I pulled the plug on 2008.

Last night when I came home to my apartment, I noticed a curious thing--only half of my lights worked. The living room? Yes. The bedroom where the wireless Internet is hooked up? No. The bathroom? No. I deduced in my infinite mechanical wisdom that obviously something was wrong with the wiring in my high-rise condo building and the best thing to do was...go to bed and pray it was magically fixed in the morning.

This is my very female solution to all mechanical problems, by the way. Is the tire looking low? Enh. Ignore it. Maybe it will get better. Is the cabinet falling off the hinges a little? Maybe using it more would help it regain its...uh...mojo.

Needless to say, I woke up this morning and my lighting problem was not fixed. (By now it is probably obvious to all the men who read this blog what had happened. But bear with me. I'm trying to re-create my mindset.) "Well," I thought. "I'd better call the building manager, but I'm sure he's going to say the whole block is out, or something." So I decided to forget about it and deal with it later in the afternoon when I had a little free time.

And so I went about my day, not worrying about the lighting problem, and eventually, something magical happened--I stopped caring. You see, without the Internet, I really couldn't get any work done. And you know what that forced me to do? RELAX. I watched hours and hours of DVDs. I called old friends and chatted forever. I smeared on a whitening face mask and chased my little dog around the apartment. I daydreamed and looked out the window. I even made a list of things I should do...but maybe not today. Maybe tomorrow, I'd do them. And so when the building manager called and talked me through how to throw the circuit breakers in my apartment and the power magically came back on, I was little bummed.

I must say, it made me realize how miserable I am at keeping the sabbath. Normally my Sundays consist of rushing here and there, running errands, frantically writing, and loads upon loads of laundry--in short, nothing that involves reflection on higher things, and nothing that recharges the soul. And so today, I made a promise to myself and you know who that I'm going to start taking the sabbath off. I'm going to commit to unplugging and force myself to spend the day enjoying the beauty of life.

It sounds so simple, doesn't it? And yet 2008 is a very addictive drug. Staying away from email and the information super highway will be hard--but if today is any proof, I will be a happier, healthier person for unplugging, even just once a week.

--May

This Week in God

2008-07-10T19:48:00.000-07:00

Big Mac, Filet-o-Fish, Quarter Pounder, Cheeseburger...If you're a member of the American Family Association, you may soon not be one of the billions served daily by McDonald's. The AMA has their undies in a bunch because McDonald's has "chosen not to remain neutral but to give the full weight of their corporation to promoting the homosexual agenda."

But as Chris Kelly of the Huffington Post points out: They donated $20,000 to the National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce. McDonald's' revenue runs about five billion dollars a quarter, so you can see their profound commitment...".

Never mind that so far the AMA has boycotted: Sears, Kohl's, Kmart, Target, Old Navy, IKEA, Burger King, Carl's Jr., 7-11, Proctor & Gamble, and Kraft. Commenters are leaving notes on AMA's site to send a clear message to McDonald's...of the profound love they have in their hearts now that they've found the Lord. "The only thing you'll be cooking is yourselves, for eternity." Oh yes. That little doozie had Jesus tap dancing in heaven.

Up next, you thought Nevaeh (Heaven, spell backwards and pronounced Nuh-vay-uh) was the latest Christian name craze for baby girls, but Nicole Kidman got chins wagging this week when she named her baby Sunday Rose. While most were quick to mention that the baby was born on a Monday, some are reading it as Kidman's last jab at Scientology.

And in the truly bizarre category, a man in Tennessee (where else?) was slain in the spirit, fell down, and hit his head. Now he's suing his church for 2.5 million dollars in medical bills. Apparently no one told him that only 2% of Christians tithe faithfully...

Finally, evangelical leaders met this week to discuss the possibility of forgiving and forgetting with McCain. In return for their support of his presidential bid, they'd like him to take Huckabee as his running mate, aka the man who used to fry squirrels in a popcorn popper (see video below). Historically, there is...a little bad blood between evangelicals and McCain because the senator once called the Dobinator an agent of intolerance. Notably, Dobby didn't attend the meeting.

But this does beg the question...should religious leaders choose a candidate in the public forum and endorse them? Are we not to give to Caesar what is Caesar's?

--May

It's Not Me, It's My Cheese

2008-07-09T19:24:00.000-07:00

My friend invited me to come over this evening and sit on her roof, which doesn’t sound like fun until you do it. She lives in downtown Brooklyn, and from her roof, you get a great view of downtown Manhattan plus a large part of Brooklyn. She promised me sparkling red wine and crackers and good conversation about books, and I just had to bring the cheese.

I LOVE cheese, so this was an easy request. I went and picked some up before work, and stuck it in the fridge, and then when I was leaving work, tossed the cheese in my bag.

I didn’t realize what a bad idea this was until I was stuck underground waiting for the train in the steambath that is the subway platform in July. It was about a million degrees today, and sticky, and everyone was sweating, and, well, I like my cheese soft and smelly. I never met a stinky cheese I didn't like. But in the heat, the smell intensified. I pretty much stank like feet. So there I was, standing on the platform, smelling ripe, and I realized there’s no good way to tell people “It’s not me, it’s just my cheese!”

The smell didn’t even go away after I got to my friend’s place, consumed more than my fair share of cheese, and headed home. I sat on the train and held my breath because something reeked. That’s when I realized it was my bag. It still smelled like blue cheese. But oh man, it was good.

The lesson for today is, next time someone smells like butt, you just have to keep in mind that maybe they have some Stinking Bishop in their pocket (the name should give it away, right? But how can you resist?). Judge not lest ye be judged and all that, because if you’re rally nice, they just might share.

May I Have Your Daughter's Hand?

2008-07-08T22:29:00.000-07:00

Okay, look. We've already established that I am weird, but just in case you forgot why specifically, I'll do a quick recap.

Reasons May Is Weird:

1) She cleans when she is stressed.

2) She has a picture of The Last Supper over her bed.

3) She has a dog that wears sweaters.

But another weird thing about me is...I didn't want my fiance to ask my dad for "my hand in marriage." Can you bear with me for one last Bachelorette-inspired post?

On Monday while I was alternately screaming my head off at the TV in anticipation and sitting numbly in shock, DeAnna's dad slipped in a little doozie. He thought Jesse wasn't going to ask his permission to marry his daughter and he said: That's just the way he is. He'll always be that way.

Ouch, Mr. Pappas. And yet, I know a lot of people feel strongly about this tradition. I respect it, I get it, but it's just not for me. Unfortunately, my fiance did not agree with on me with this one, presenting...a problem.

As we were getting close to getting engaged, we'd often talk about scenarios in hypothetical terms. What would you name a daughter? Where do you want to travel? Etc. You know how couples do, just saying things to see how the other would react. One day he said to me, "What do you think your father would do if I called to ask for his permission to marry you?"

"What?" I screeched. "You can't do that. I don't want you to do that."

"Why?" he asked. Clearly I seem like the type of girl who would be appreciative of this gesture and I'm definitely close to my father.

For hours and hours, I tried to explain it to my fiance. The tradition bothers me a little, it seems to date back to a time when a woman had no choice in who she married. Her father dreamed up a profitable alliance and off she went with no say in the matter and a few cows to sweeten the deal. And as much as I love my dad, it's not really his decision. Plus, what about my poor mom? If we're doing some asking, here, doesn't she get a say? She half raised me too.

Finally we compromised that he could call BOTH of my parents and announce his intentions and say something about how he was hoping he had their blessing. And, from what I hear, that's how it worked out. My dad cried. My mom was elated. And I was fine. If it was important to my fiance and my parents to have this discussion, that's okay with me.

Anyways, I suppose I see both sides of this issue so to hear Mr. Pappas be so harsh about was a little off-putting. But he seemed to come around to his new son-in-law-to-be in the end, so it all worked out. And Jesse did ask him for his blessing.

I'm just chalking it up to yet another facet of marriage that people feel VERY strongly about. I can't even tell you how many water-cooler debates have been started over whether or not I am combining my finances with his. Oy vey!

--May

Too Old for Young Adult?

2008-07-07T17:03:00.000-07:00

I know you’re all as excited as I am about the new book in Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series coming out next month. It’s the fourth book in the series (or, as I called it at work the other day, to the bewilderment of those who pay me to use words well, the fourth in the trilogy).

I devoured the first three books in the series and I don’t recommend you start reading them unless you have lots of time where you don’t have to do anything that requires not having a book in your face. The other day I saw some girl wearing a shirt that said Team Edward, and I almost beat her up so I could take the shirt. The only reason I didn’t is that I’m firmly Team Jacob.

But anyway, I am excited about this book (and based on the fact that it's currently #1 on Amazon a full month before it releases, I'm not the only one). The only reason I feel vaguely weird about my obsession is that these are technically young adult novels (and you thought was going to say I was ashamed of reading about super-hot teenage vampires—ha!) and I’m not even close to technically a teen.

Now, Stephanie Meyer came out with an adult novel earlier this summer, which got people talking about the difference between reading YA and adult books. What basically came out of it was that a lot of people don’t think there’s much of a divide between adult books and young adult books anymore, and there’s nothing wrong with adults reading about teens. We have J.K. Rowling to thank for that in many ways, but think about all the YA books teens and adults alike are enjoying these days—like Gossip Girl, or Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, or the Pullman trilogy.

So my question is: what do you think about adults reading YA books? Is it ok to enjoy a story even if it was written for someone half your age? Or should we be thinking about and focusing on reading more, uh, adult things?

Um, don’t let the fact that I posted the cover of our first YA book here sway you. I just needed a photo, and I happen to quite like that cover. There are no vampires in it, alas.

Finding Mr. Right...Right Now

2008-07-06T17:44:00.000-07:00

Everywhere I go, no matter who I hang out with, people are talking about one thing and one thing alone: The Bachelorette. Even my boss the other day said, "Okay, seriously. Can we talk about the Bachelorette for a moment?" I was more than happy to oblige.

Now I know I blogged about what was wrong with The Bachelorette and I do stand by my point that they didn't give DeAnna many good options. But she has slowly won me over with her sass-a-FRASS. At first, I thought, "Yawn, might as well watch the Bachelorette. There's nothing else on TV this summer." But soon DeAnna was getting a little feisty with the guys and she started making smart, sensible choices, and somewhere along the way, I sort of wanted to ring her up and say, "Yo, D. Let's hit the town."

And tonight is the finale. If you call me during this two-hour time slot with anything other than an absolute emergency, please note that I will be cross with you. Granted, it's not like it's going to be that dramatic. I'm 99.9% sure she's going to choose Jason, but you never know. They are making the last two guys meet her parents SIMULTANEOUSLY and there seems to be an unplanned visit by a shadowy mystery man who says she's making a "big mistake." But as an avid reality TV fan, I've come to expect these tricks and turns.

And yet, there was one thing DeAnna said last week that gave me pause. She told Jason and Jesse (she only dates guys with J names for some reason) that she wants to have 3 kids by the time she's 30. It bears mentioning that she is 26. So if you assume that she will be newly dating/engaged for one year, that means she'd get married at 27 and then...well, it is possible, if just.

The funny thing is, I hear a lot of my female friends set goals like this. I love kids and having kids early sounds like a blast. But it didn't work out that way for me and that's okay too. All through high school and my early twenties, I met women who would say, "I want to be married by 25 and have kids by 27," or some variation of this. The age and the goals vary slightly, one person to the next. Sometimes it's married by 30, sometimes it's own a house by 35, sometimes it's be promoted by 27.

Truthfully, these goals always make me a little nervous. My life has seen some serious ups and downs and if you'd told me even a few years ago that I'd end up living in San Francisco, I would have laughed in your face. While setting goals and trying to achieve them is certainly a good impulse, I'm not so sure it's healthy when they are things that you don't ultimately have a lot of control over.

I suppose if you promised yourself that you would be married by 30, you could join eHarmony and ask your friends to set you up and keep your heart open, but in my experience meeting Mr. Right is a long, complex, and confusing process that is best not rushed.

So DeAnna, if you're sure, honey, then go for it! You obviously have good sense because you sent Graham home and he was just going to break your heart. You saw that and you took action. Good girl! But don't rush into marriage just because you set a goal for yourself. Turning 30 is nothing! I can tell you from experience! Some goals are good, like making an A on your math test. But other goals...well, it's better to miss them and wait until the time is right and you've found Mr. Right and not Mr. Right Now. I know you know that. Just be careful. That's all I'm saying, honey.

--May

This Week in God

2008-07-03T17:54:00.001-07:00

I think the heat must be getting to people. This week in God we have utter insanity.

First up: Heidi Montag wants to record a Christian album . That’s right. Everyone’s favorite fake reality star says, “I have been the most religious person since I was 2 years old… I always felt this crazy connection to God.”

I KNOW!

Apparently it's true. I never got the impression she was religious either, but apparently she’s “kind of non-denominational Baptist.” Go figure. I think I can speak for all of us, Heidi, when I say BRING IT. I cannot WAIT to buy this album, for all the wrong reasons.

In China, we have a kinder, gentler communism. It’s like the Sears of oppressive regimes. Apparently China isn’t going to stop people from bringing Bibles into Beijing and distributing them at the Olympics next month. Now that smuggling Bibles into China isn’t a crime, Missionaries all over the world are trying to find something else to make them feel adventurous, like wearing knee-length skirts.

Friend of the blog Spike (names have been changed to protect the innocent) points out this post on Talking Points Memo, which looks at a certain, um, feature of this ad for a Christian dating service. It appears to be geared toward Christian men looking for a big… hearted woman. After all, the only thing that really matters in a relationship is that you find someone with big… love for you, someone who will care about you just the way you are. As long as you are a DD.

Oh, and of course McCain and Obama are duking it out for the evangelical vote, and I tried unsuccessfully to convince some more people that Barack Obama is not actually Muslim (Seriously, people.).

Happy 4th of July everyone!

lightning bugs

2008-07-02T19:55:00.000-07:00

This is a video I made this weekend.

Good, no?

The problem (aside from the fact that I apparently always take terrible videos) is that there’s actually about a million little lights going on and off in the video, you just can’t see them.

Stay with me. I’m not on drugs.

This weekend Wayne and I went to visit his extended family in upstate New York. We went to Moosewood, which is apparently not something Wayne’s dairy farmer uncle loves:

Me, to Wayne’s uncle: We’re going to Moosewood tonight! It’s that famous vegetarian restaurant.
Wayne: I’m a vegetarian for the year.
Uncle: That’s stupid.
Me: So… [panicking… how do I respond to this?!?!?] How about them cows?

Anyway, in addition to eating yummy vegetarian food and a lot of fried food (there doesn’t seem to be a lot in between), we also got out into the country air and got to enjoy something we never see in the city: fireflies. Now, to those of you who live in places with lots of trees, this might not seem like a big deal. But to us, being out on top of a hill, in the middle of a field, surrounded by thousands of blinking lights, was almost surreal. I’ve never seen so many lightning bugs, and they were all around us, and they were just… amazing.

So amazing that we grabbed the camera because we wanted to be able to see it again, if only to convince ourselves it was real. But, as you can see, the video doesn’t exactly do the sight justice, nor do the photos we took. I promise you, it was like being in the middle of a field of tiny miracles. We sat there and watched them for a good long time, until we were too tired to watch them anymore.

Now, I could take this a number of ways here (there are lights in the dark even when we don’t see them; we can’t capture the beauty of life, we just have to enjoy it; I need a better camera) but I’ll just leave you with this: I wish I was overwhelmed by beauty more.

Also, I wish I could make my butt light up. But mostly, the beauty thing.

p.s. Here’s another video I made this weekend.

The Small Moments

2008-07-01T21:38:00.000-07:00

I really hope all of you out there are very very human. Otherwise, this post is going to make me look like a monster.

I don't know if it's the moody San Francisco summer weather, how overworked I've been, or just a funk I've been going through, but I have recently caught myself being...ahem, a little catty. Now don't get me wrong. I don't want to be catty. I want to be sweet, and kind, and fair, and good. And during some periods of my life, it's so easy to be all of those things. You know the ones I mean, when your life is going through a relaxing stretch and everything is going your way and all your ventures are coming up roses. Sure, then, I'm totally blissed out and the very pinnacle of Christian love.

But lately, I hardly recognize myself. At first I just chimed in with the occasional catty comment here and there and always regretted. But somewhere along the way, I started INITIATING uncharitable conversations. I'll have this out-of-body moment where I hear myself going on and on and will be repulsed.

Do you think this sort of thing is like a bad habit? I feel like I've let myself do it one too many times and now it feels a little...comfortable.

Granted, I'm probably hyper-aware at the moment. Ever since I read about the praying without ceasing thing in Franny and Zooey and posted about it, I've been really thinking about my day-to-day mindset. What I probably wouldn't have worried much about before, now really bothers me. To say nothing of the fact that it's hardly "Christian" behavior, this business...is very gross for the soul. It utterly mucks up the business of living and blinds you to joys of life's small moments.

So anyway, this week I'm trying to be 100% catty-comment (and thought-) free. And I tell you what, some addictions are harder to break than others. But I already feel a little lighter on my feet, a little more at peace with the realities and struggles, and maybe even a little kinder.

--May

Ode to Jeans

2008-06-30T18:06:00.000-07:00

Since I apparently have nothing more interesting to talk about than my pants these days (seriously, does anyone else recognize a theme in the posts the past few weeks?), I’m going to take Natalie’s suggestion from the comments section last week and ask you all about jeans.

Jeans are a pretty important part of my wardrobe. I wear them as much as I can. They’re very versatile and can be dressed up with heels or down with flip flops or sneakers. They’re comfortable and stylish and I feel good wearing them. If I could wear them for work, I would. I live for casual Fridays.

For me, it’s worth it to invest in good jeans. I by everything else on sale and on the cheap, but a good pair of jeans is worth every penny for me, because I will wear them until they fall apart, and because they will make my butt look good (and everybody knows the primary purpose of jeans is to make you butt look good). I’d rather have fewer pairs that I really love than lots of jeans that I’m moderately happy with.

But I’m very boring. I have three pairs of the exact same jeans, just in different states of wear. I refuse to buy skinny legs jeans, even though they’re stylish and Wayne has suggested I let my style evolve a bit, because the tapering makes my butt look big (defeating the purpose of wearing jeans in the first place).

I know not everyone feels this way, though, and I’m interested to find out how you all feel about your jeans. Love ‘em? Over them? Where do you by them? Do you have a favorite pair?

Hair's to You!

2008-06-29T18:31:00.000-07:00

Here's the story, of a lovely lady...

Let's take a step back in time, shall we? This is my mom. Yes, she was a super fox. Her father was a doctor in the Air Force and she grew up on military bases all over the world. All she ever wanted was to meet a nice sensible man, get married, and stay in one place. Well, that's not true because that makes it sound like she didn't have ambitions of her own, and she most certainly did, thank you very much. She's very liberated, and smart, and not afraid to speak her mind.

Eventually her family was stationed back in the good old US of A, just in time for her to go to college. Whew! She got into Berkeley and lived at home, like nice girls did back then. And, no, she didn't much care for all those hippies. But then, her dad was reassigned to Florida and she moved too, like nice girls did back then. She transferred to the University of Florida to finish up her teaching degree, and that was where she would meet...

My dad, the man with the million-dollar smile. The way my dad tells it, Mom had just transferred into UF and been inducted into the local branch of her sorority. She went to a Little Sister/Big Brother mixer that night and he spotted her from across the room. "May," he'll always say, "her hair was so shiny and brown, it looked like cassette tape."

Back then, my dad was a big man on campus and a well-known rabble rouser (he's still the same.) My mom came into his life, set him on the straight and narrow, and they've never looked back since. (Mom says it turns out Dad was actually smart. He was getting bad grades because he kept selling his textbooks to pay for the fraternity parties. Ahem! Dad, you would have killed me if I did that!)

And don't worry. My mom got her wish. After his own stint in the Air Force (inspired by the draft), my dad agreed to settle down in a small town in the South. And they eventually had three blond children, the youngest one in curls (really!)

I am their middle child, the loud, brash, stubborn, attention-craver who they spent many a night worrying over and praying for. My siblings were angels sent from the very feet of Jesus compared to me. But we made it through, didn't we Mom and Dad? And I love you for loving me so much.

--May

PS Yes! That's my new hair! Thanks for asking! This is the picture my fiance liked better. I'm not sure which is better.

PPS Thanks to Cousin Hoot for digitizing all of Grandmommy's old photos! Best present ever!

This Week in God

2008-06-26T21:13:00.000-07:00

Well, folks, it was a bit of rough week for Mr. Focus on the Family, Dr. James Dobson. On Tuesday, Dobby made headlines when he claimed that Barack Obama was "making stuff up" about the bible. Immediately, the Dobinator was under attack by Christian leaders defending Obama.

Then Pastor Kirbyjon Caldwell, a Methodist pastor from the Lone Star State, decided to prove he wasn't all hat and no cattle when it came to his support for Obama, and he launched the website Dr. James Dobson Doesn't Speak For Me. In addition to comparing side by side what Obama actually said to what Dobson claimed he said, the site has a very moving statement that probably all believers could take something from--regardless of where you stand in this election.

And you'll never, ever guess what I have for you this week. What? What's that you say? Another study on the habits of religious people? DING, DING, DING! You're right. This week a major study by the Pew Forum revealed that 92% of all Americans believe in God (Judeo-Christian Yahweh, Buddha, Allah, and more). They surveyed 35,000 people in several languages. Here's an NPR piece on it elaborating on the shades of gray of religion in America.

Also this week, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is launching a new media campaign to distance themselves (and differentiate themselves) from the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, aka the ones who practice polygamy. I'm just hoping this new campaign is as good as their one that taught morals in the 80s.

Oh man! You see! Other denominations take note. This RULES!

And since we're on the topic, here's an amazing segment that I happened to catch on the Oprah Winfrey show. It's like Big Love, only real and without the wacky dresses. What do you think about it? Should polygamy be illegal?

--May

How I Lost All My Money on a Baseball Game

2008-06-25T18:09:00.001-07:00

Yesterday afternoon, our friends called and said they had tickets to the Mets game that evening and asked if we wanted to go. We didn’t have any specific plans, but Wayne and I both had blocked off the evening to work.

Unfortunately for our good intentions, it was a gorgeous day, and we really like these people, and they had really good seats, and, well, how can you say no to free tickets? I’m not really a super baseball fan, but I am a fan of enjoying a nice night outside with friends. Even though these people make fun of me for not being spontaneous (I just like to plan my time out, ok!?!?!), we threw caution to the wind and said yes.

The only problem was, I was at work, wearing a skirt. A pencil skirt to be exact, along with a silk blouse and high heels. Not exactly baseball attire. I wasn’t about to wear that skirt to the game, and I didn’t have time to go home and change before taking the train out to Queens. I figured I could throw ditch the heels and throw on flip flops, and the shirt was blue, so it was at least thematic, but the skirt was really a problem. I dug through my drawer at work where I sometimes find extra clothes, and only uncovered yoga pants, which I was NOT going to wear outside a gym. I needed jeans.

Luckily, the friends who invited us live upstairs from us. Perfect! I just asked them to go into our apartment, go into our bedroom, ignore the underwear all over the floor, and dig through my drawers to find me a pair of jeans. They’re nice enough that they agreed, until they realized that they don’t actually have a key to our apartment.

Now, everyone has a key to our apartment. Your mom has a key to our apartment. Most of our friends have several sets. We don’t have anything worth stealing, and we like to spread them around so when we lock ourselves out or ask someone to take care of our cats for the week and then give them the wrong keys and they can’t get into our apartment and our cats are about to starve to death, we can find someone to rescue our poor starving kitties (not that that’s happened). But apparently, we somehow missed these people. I know that we have keys to their place, because once when they were out of town we invited ourselves in and helped ourselves to their copy of The Big Lebowski, but apparently they don’t have keys to our place. We called several other neighbors, but no one was home. So now it’s late afternoon, and I am still jeanless.

Because I'm insane, I decide the only logical thing to do is just go buy a new pair of jeans. After all, I stopped wearing the shorts around Wayne (didn’t throw them out though!), so I pretty much deserved a new pair. And I needed a new pair. Naturally, the only thing to do was stop at Bloomingdale’s on my way to the stadium.

I have a favorite kind of jeans and a cut that works for me (sadly, not these), so I knew I could just go in and grab a pair and probably make it to Shea on time. The only problem was, then I needed a belt. So I stopped at the Gap too, and then jumped onto an express train and made it just as the national anthem was being sung. Perfect. I met up with Wayne and our friends and we went in.

And discovered we had amazing seats. It was literally the first row. I didn’t even know you could sit that close. I pretty much peed myself (all over my new jeans too). Well, naturally, with free front row tickets, we had to buy a couple rounds of beer and snacks for the group.

The upshot is, we had a great time. The Mets got clobbered, but it was fun. I can’t thank our friends enough for inviting us (Thank you Christian and Tara!). But now I’m broke. Between the jeans, the belt, dinner, and a couple rounds, those were the most expensive free tickets I’ve ever had.

The moral of today’s story is, always carry jeans with you. Always. You just never know.

Can We Talk About My Hair?

2008-06-24T21:51:00.000-07:00

First up, Tuesday mornings are my weigh-in days and I have now officially lost...EIGHT POUNDS! I've decided I'm excited, but yesterday morning I was sort of grumbling about it. I guess I didn't realize that after the first week, I'd only lose a pound or two each week. That's slow going, my friends! And this morning the machine TOOK AWAY SOME OF MY POINTS! I gasped out loud.

Next up, um, can we talk about my hair? This is my hair currently:

It is long, and crazy, and until last month when I swung by Super Cuts, I hadn't cut it in a year. And I hate it. Nine out of ten days, I hide it under hats or pull it up in weird half ponytails, like this:

But I have had it short before and thought it looked pretty cute. Here's a recent, semi-short look. I'm smiling wayyy too much here. Try to ignore that:

So remember when Whoorl helped me with the look I wanted for my wedding hair and you guys were all like, MAY DO NOT TRY TO DO YOUR OWN WEDDING HAIR. PAY SOMEONE! Well, I listened! My stylish friend put me on to the most-coveted stylist in San Francisco, whose name is...Jubilee (seriously). It took THREE MONTHS to get an appointment with her and this weekend it's finally here. She's going to cut my hair and then we're going to do a trial-run of the wedding hair.

There's just one catch, she wants me to bring pictures. So we have two problems on our hands: 1) what kind of haircut should I get and 2) what should my wedding hair look like?

For the wedding hair, I REALLY want to look like Grace Kelly in this picture. Don't worry, my stylish friend recently gifted me an eyebrow pencil. But I don't want to go this short.

Actually, truthfully I'd like to look like this every day, but do you think my hair could do that? Is it a little...silly? Did Grace Kelly sleep in curlers to get this look?

My stylish friend thought I should shoot for something more along these lines for my daily look. (Try to focus on the hair.)

My hair does have some body to it when it's short-ish. Maybe this is a good modern version of an old-school look? I don't want to be that weird girl at the office who is stuck in another era and saying things like, That's really groovy, cats.

Also, my fiance has a thing for long hair so it kind of needs to look longish. I really don't care what I look like (see evidence above of going a solid year without a haircut) but I want him to find me easy on the eyes. And I have a wedding coming up and my hair grows SLOWLY so there's NO room for mistakes.

Thoughts? Other pictures? Do you have good hair? Will you post about it on your blog and share? (Breathing into a bag now...)

--May

Read Any Good Books Lately?

2008-06-23T17:58:00.000-07:00

Recently I’ve been working my butt off, reading stuff for work, or reading stuff relevant to our writing and calling it work, and it’s been a while since I picked up a book just for fun. I’m certainly not going to complain, because I know how totally awesome my job(s) is(are), but one drawback to reading and writing for work is that things I absolutely love—reading and writing—become work. [Rereading that sentence, I’m kind of in awe that I get paid to use words, because I don’t think I could have made it more confusing.] Sometimes, I have to remind myself that sometimes it’s ok to make time to read simply for the pleasure of getting lost in a story.

But, with the holiday weekend coming up, I’m stocking up. I’ve decided I get free reign to read whatever I want then. The question is, what do I want to read?

Read any good books lately? Is there anything you’re loving, or dying to read, or really looking forward to reading this summer? I’m in the market for suggestions.

In the Eyes of a Child

2008-06-22T11:52:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I enjoyed a rare single girl treat. My only girl cousin (seriously, how do I have 15 boy cousins and only one girl cousin?!) came to visit me in San Francisco with her husband and two young children. She has a four-year-old named Jack and a six-year-old named Kylie.

Leading up to this visit, my fiance and I worried about our ability to entertain the little ones. What do they eat? Surely not Thai food, right? Or are kids these days different? What do they want to do? Are they too young to ride a city bus? We can't all fit in one car.

And yet the weekend went off without a hitch, and we found ourselves having the time of our lives. Some of that is a testament to my cousin and her husband, who bravely bring their children with them on all sorts of adventures and insist the kids eat "weird food." But some of it was just the joy of being around small kids.

I live across the country from my entire family and while my fiance's family is nearby, there are no small children yet. No one brings their children to work in San Francisco (like they often did at Random House, which I always found to be a little random...) and kids don't tend to hang out where I do on Friday and Saturday nights (the library, Mom). Ergo, I'll go months without seeing a pint-size person.

Here are some of my favorites moments from the weekend.

On Saturday when the whole bunch showed up, the kids were wearing face paint. We were then told the face paint was three days old and counting.

Fact: If you get your face painted, do not wash it! Face paint rules!

We then took the whole bunch for lunch in Chinatown. The kids saw the chopsticks at the table and were in hog heaven.

Fact: Chopsticks are a limitless source of fun.

But when the food came out, they were a little...hesitant. Jack opted to eat only the scrambled eggs out of his chicken fried rice, but Kylie loved the "chicken spaghetti" (chicken chow mein), once we...renamed it.

Earlier in the day, Kylie asked me an interesting question: Do you live in a hotel? We had rendezvoused at my apartment, which is a high-rise building with a lobby, a door keypad, and an elevator. Kylie lives in a real house in a town where the lots are so far apart the neighbors use golf carts to visit one another.

Fact: Kylie pushes all the up buttons in elevators. Jack pushes the down buttons. This is how much fun pushing buttons is. There are rules to maintain order.

At my apartment, Kylie noticed my vintage typewriter. I explained how it worked and let her press a few keys. She then turned to her mom and said: Where's the computer? She meant the monitor. We had to show her where the paper would go and she was quite amazed.

Later in the day, Jack said out of nowhere: Hey, May! Sometimes when my daddy is driving and we almost get to the place we're going, he takes off his seatbelt. Ha! Busted!

Jack, in general, was the biggest trooper of the day. He didn't flinch when an old lady on the bus pinched his cheeks. He didn't even notice when the bus doors almost chopped him in half because he was too small for the sensors. And at one point, when my fiance was taking a turn wheeling Jack in his stroller, he hit a bump in the sidewalk and dumped his Coke float all over the unsuspecting child. Poor Jack! We all huddled around, sponged him off, but he seemed positively unphazed. He didn't utter a peep and just went right back to eating his ice cream.

Fact: Jack likes chocolate ice cream with gummy bears mixed in. Get over it.

My fiance and I concluded that we need another five years before we even think about having kids (sorry Moms!), but the trip was very very special and we came away admiring my cousin and her flexible, unflappable husband very much. What great kids! What an amazing weekend.

--May

This Week in God

2008-06-19T19:03:00.001-07:00

This week, we learned that God hates Iowa. Or rivers. Or something. In any case, the Midwest is in a whole lot of trouble. Our hearts go out to the people affected by the floods, and we humbly suggest that everyone downstream take after this guy.

After Florida’s attempt at being the craziest state in the nation failed, South Carolina gladly stepped up to the, um, plate this week with this:

I know, it says Florida, but apparently South Carolina’s version would be just like that, only deep-fried.

Anyway, some people are suing South Carolina, citing violation of the separation of church and state. But really, the plate just says “I Believe.” It doesn’t say what you believe in. I read South Carolina and figure it means “I believe in barbecue, large porches, and sweet tea.”

Beliefnet lists their top ten movies about the end of the world.

Look at my restraint! I’m not posting that DC Talk song! You totally thought I was going to! Sike [look, that’s how we spelled it, ok?]!

And best of all, The Jonas Brothers (known for their faith and purity rings and, oh yeah, their music) are about to take over America!

That’s all, folks. Have a nice weekend.

Wise Ones

2008-06-18T18:31:00.000-07:00

Did anyone read Oprah’s speech at Stanford’s graduation ceremony this past weekend?

I love graduations in general (despite being too lazy to go to my own MA ceremony). I love to see people recognized for their achievements, and proud parents, and happy graduates, confused and optimistic, and not yet jaded by the cruel cruel world. I also love the crazy outfits. Who picked those hats?! And why is it that the more honors and degrees you have, the more ridiculous you look? Next weekend, we’re going upstate to see my first-cousin-once-removed-in-law graduate from high school, which I’m oddly excited about.

No one cool spoke at my college graduation, though Bill Cosby spoke at our Class Day ceremony and made wildly in appropriate comments toward the female student who introduced him. It was hilariously uncomfortable. I’ll never look at Jello the same way again.

But anyway, Oprah. Read the speech here. Some highlights:

How do you know when you're doing something right? How do you know that? It feels so. What I know now is that feelings are really your GPS system for life. When you're supposed to do something or not supposed to do something, your emotional guidance system lets you know. The trick is to learn to check your ego at the door and start checking your gut instead. Every right decision I've made—every right decision I've ever made—has come from my gut. And every wrong decision I've ever made was a result of me not listening to the greater voice of myself.

…

This is what I know for sure: In order to be truly happy, you must live along with and you have to stand for something larger than yourself. Because life is a reciprocal exchange. To move forward you have to give back. And to me, that is the greatest lesson of life. To be happy, you have to give something back.

…

So, how do I define success? Let me tell you, money's pretty nice. I'm not going to stand up here and tell you that it's not about money, 'cause money is very nice. I like money. It's good for buying things.

But having a lot of money does not automatically make you a successful person. What you want is money and meaning. You want your work to be meaningful. Because meaning is what brings the real richness to your life. What you really want is to be surrounded by people you trust and treasure and by people who cherish you. That's when you're really rich.

Now, I don't agree with this unequivocally. Sometimes things that feel good aren't right, and the right thing is to do what you don't want to do. But I don't think she's talking about day-to-day stuff (like how I should exercise even though it doesn't feel good), I think she's talking about bigger life issues. And maybe she's right-- maybe when we're doing what we're supposed to do with our lives, it does just feel right. What do you guys think? I think she's totally right about money not being the measure of how rich you are.

Between Oprah, Dolly Parton, and Sex and the City, I feel like I’m learning a lot these days. Pretty soon someone's going to have to give me an honorary doctorate for having learned so much, and then I'll get to wear a ridiculous hat and make everyone call me doctor. It's going to be so sweet.

All My Exes Live in Texas

2008-06-17T21:16:00.000-07:00

Do you see any exes in this picture? I didn't think so

The title of this post pretty much says it all. Well, they don't all live in Texas. That's not true exactly, though a few do (really!). Some of my ex-boyfriends live in New York and even Florida, if we're going wayyyy back to high school.

This week, I accidentally saw a picture of one of my exes on the Internet and it reminded me of something quite fascinating: he's not dead. It's not like I squeezed the life out of him and left him gasping for air on the kitchen floor or something. Nor did I hire a guy from Queens to "take care of the problem." Sure, I might have thought about it in a low moment or two, but let it be a matter of public record that I did not. But I have been pretending he's dead for so long now that I sort of forgot that he's not.

Recently a friend of mine was going through a breakup, and we gals all came together to trash-talk her ex and remind her how she is much too good for him. (Yes, guys. This is what we really do. Don't kid yourselves.) My friend eventually revealed that her ex had cut off all contact and there was a general gasping at our table.

"What a jerk! A lowlife!" My friends said.

"Oh," I cleared my throat. "Um, you don't do that?"

They shook their heads.

"I do," I confessed. "I think it's easier."

A long, long time ago, a young May Vanderbilt used to stay friends with her exes. She'd go on bike rides with them, hang out in groups, and continue to respond to their emails. Oh, she was the absolute model of modernity and maturity.

But over the years, May got older, she became jaded, complex feelings and situations arose from these "friendships," strain was put on new relationships, and eventually she swore off staying friendly with exes entirely. And somewhere along the road, not-staying-friends morphed into pretend-he-has-moved-to-Mars-and/or-is-dead.

In fact, when I moved to San Francisco, I remember saying aloud, "Oh won't it be wonderful to never, ever run into ex-boyfriends!" New York was getting a bit lousy with exes. (Note to all of May's exes: SAN FRANCISCO IS MINE. DO NOT MOVE HERE. I'M SERIOUS! YES, THAT MEANS YOU...AND YOU...AND YOU!)

To me, this all seems very sensible, but I'm learning that I'm in the minority. Most of my friends talk with exes, hang out with exes, and even, invite exes to their weddings. I think it's great. I'm just not capable of this myself.

And so that is why, once in a very blue moon, when I see an ex's mug on the Internet or hear a tidbit of news through the grapevine, I always pause for a moment and think, Wait, I thought he was...

--May

George Strait - All My Ex's Live In Texas - Live 1990

Holy Heck

2008-06-16T16:55:00.000-07:00

If you’re reading this message, you’ve been left behind.

Well, something like that. The truth is, if you’d really been left behind, you’d have gotten an email message from me.

That’s right, folks. Armageddon just got a whole lot friendlier, courtesy of You'veBeenLeftBehind.com!

This great new service allows you to select 62 of your closest friends, who will receive a message at the second coming, letting them know that a) you’re now off in heaven, neener neener neener, and b) they’re not. Apparently this is supposed to give them the impetus to repent or something, though I would think the appearance of the anti-Christ might be enough to do it for most people.

The automated system will be set in motion when three of the five website staffers, scattered around the country, fail to log in for six days in a row. For most people, this would signal a vacation. But for these dedicated volunteers, this absence could mean only one thing:

You didn’t think you were going to get away without me posting that, did you?

I think you’ll agree, at only $40 a year, this service is really quite a steal. I know I’ve signed all my friends up. Check your inboxes, heathens!

On a different, check out this talking Jesus doll! (Thanks to Beth for the link.) He’s stylish (authentic linen robes!). He’s got good hair (though he seems to use a lot of gel)! He quotes Bible verses at you! (Not unlike some of the guys I went out with in college, actually…). He comes with a nifty prayer book.

What more could you want in a toy? I mean, aside from a sweet castle, a magical sword, a flying horse, and fabulous boots?

What is a Jesus Year?

2008-06-15T20:52:00.001-07:00

Trend alert. Lately all my non-Christian friends are calling their 33rd year on this earth their Jesus year. I first heard of this term thanks to this post from Anne, but I thought, Oh Anne and Wayne are being clever again!

And yet now I can't turn around without someone mentioning their Jesus year. And nine out of ten times, they aren't...uh, so much into the whole Jesus thing. Plus, there seems to be no consensus on what a Jesus Year is, exactly.

Wayne gave up meat in an attempt to tread lighter on the earth, but others use the term to mean a year when they will accomplish a big goal or travel to a place they want to see before they die (all interpretations seem to make sense to me.)

And so, smack dab in the middle of some serious procrastinating (who, me?), I tried to get to the bottom of things. Only one online dictionary chose to define this term and I'm afraid I don't know how credible Double-Tongued Dictionary is. Obviously anticipating this very blog post, they played it safe and only said: a person's 33rd year. THANKS, Double-Tongued. (Side note: This definition does have an interesting footnote explaining that your 42nd year is called your Elvis Year, and this is when you're at your peak.)

Then, I searched for what the proletariat meant when it said: I'm having my Jesus Year. Yes and Then Some blog says it's "supposed to be the year in which you accomplish some goals," while Jalpuna's friend told her it was the year you were "supposed to put some good stuff out there - Karma-wise," so she decided not to curse for a year. But probably the funniest definition of the term comes from Lacunae, whose friend told him "it's the year you do your best work but you get crucified for it."

Up next, I stumbled upon this forthcoming title: My Jesus Year: A Rabbi's Son Wanders the Bible Belt in Search of His Own Faith, which I think further proves my theory that this term is 1) really catching on in popular culture and 2) has no commonly accepted definition.

That's when I had to ask myself: WDJD or What DID Jesus do during his own Jesus year? According to this Biblenet timeline, he seems to have blessed children (check, no problem!), healed a blind man (um, slight problem...), entered the city of Jerusalem to great fanfare (possible, but logistically tricky), held a big meal (check!) during which he predicted who would betray him (um...), gets crucified (gulp), and comes back to life (look! It's just one year! I can't do everything!?). A tall order, no doubt about it.

And so I turn this over to you guys. What is a Jesus Year, exactly? Did you do something for yours? Also, can anyone explain to me why your Elvis Year is when you're at your peak? Elvis died of a DRUG OVERDOSE at 42, during his tacky spangley-suit era. This was his peak?!

--May

This Week in God

2008-06-12T20:05:00.000-07:00

First up, Southern Baptists are scratching their heads about a decline in membership for the first time in four decades. At the annual gathering this week, church leaders were forced to confront five years of flat growth and last year's decline. Afterwards I had a chance to speak with Dudley McDunkin about this shocking trend.

"We're just at a loss," McDunkin said. "We have the best covered dishes--even you can't deny that May." I nodded my head in agreement, thinking of the French Onion Green Bean Casserole. "We have the best songs." I gave him a skeptical look. "Old Rugged Cross? What a Friend We Have in Jesus? I'll Fly Away?!" I shrugged. "So what gives?"

In response to this grave trend, Southern Baptists are launching a new image campaign called "We Are Southern Baptists."

Ever been told to get your mind out of the gutter? Now you have biblical proof that it's human to crack a naughty joke or two, or so say the authors of the new book, The Uncensored Bible. Check out the quiz based on the book here. Let's just say that I've always been a straight-A student.

Up next, a small tempest in a teapot brewed up this week when Newsweek reported that Rick Warren invited SoulForce, a gay activist group that fosters dialogue between gay people and people of faith, to attend Father's Day services at Warren's Saddleback church. Get Religion got to the bottom of things, with a personal note from Rick Warren, claiming he would be out of town on Father's Day and was not meeting with SoulForce.

Also this week, Beliefnet is asking the age-old question: How did Noah get those giraffes on the boat? No, sorry. Wrong question. They asked two thinkers to weigh in on: How would God vote? In one corner we have David Klinghoffer, author of How Would God Vote: Why the Bible Commands You to Be a Conservative. And in the other, Reverend Jim Wallis, founder and editor of Sojourners magazine. Keep it above the belt, fellas.

And in the slightly stale category, May Vanderbilt finally returned from France and caught up on her Bachelorette TV watching--only to find that DeAnna sent Ryan packing after he professed his love for...Jesus. She said, and I quote, "I worry I might corrupt you." I could hear his death knell ringing from that moment onward. Producers, you must do the Christian Bachelor/Bachelorette. Talk about amazing TV!!! Just ring up eHarmony. I'm sure they're up for a corporate sponsorship.

Those are the headlines from on high.

--May

short pants

2008-06-11T19:02:00.000-07:00

I have a question for the blogosphere. Your answer may just save my marriage.

I have this pair of shorts that I LOVE. They’re totally comfortable. I’ve had them since college. They’re corduroy cargo shorts, which were only marginally cool at the time, and are decidedly not cool now. They’re too big. The button fell off long ago. They have several colors of paint splattered on them.

They’re ugly. I get that. But they’re the best shorts I’ve ever owned.

The problem is, Wayne hates them. He’s always hated them. He’s threatened to throw them away several times, and begged me to throw them away many others. I don’t know what he has against them, but he would be really happy if I never wore them again.

I never wear them in public. I just wear them around the house. This is apparently part of the problem. Since I dress up for work and look all nice, then come home and throw on my shorts (well, in the summer. In winter, it’s fleece pants), most of the time he sees me wearing them and not the nicer stuff.

The other day, he asked me to go shopping to replace them. I started bargaining, and got him to willingly say he didn’t care if I bought three new pairs if jeans if only I would throw the shorts away. This is huge. My jeans aren’t cheap. I almost considered it.

But I still have the shorts, and I still wear them. I know some people, like my mom, would say that I should throw them away to make him happy. (But she also lives in constant fear that I’m going to drive Wayne away, because we all know I don’t deserve him.)(Mom, please read addendum in the comments before you disown me.) I, on the other hand, kind of feel like he should put up with them because he loves me and I love them. What should I do?

I guess this isn’t really a question about the shorts. It’s more a question of how much you give up for the one you love. The whole forsaking all others in sickness and in health until death do us part, I can handle. But giving up my shorts too? Isn’t that kind of asking a lot?

(For the record, our marriage is not actually in danger. But I still want your opinion.)

The Scales Have Fallen From My Eyes

2008-06-10T22:43:00.000-07:00

I must say on Monday when I was hovering in the hardware store, contemplating buying the first scale I have owned in ten years, I didn't think I could go through with it. In the past, I have refused to own a scale because I didn't want to be obsessed with my weight. But I'm afraid that landed me where I am today.

And so in the spirit of trying new strategies that worked for other people and swallowing my pride (read: Weight Watchers), I forced myself to buy the silly scale and weigh myself when I got home.

Friends, this is a big mistake. Do not weigh yourself in the middle of the day. Now, now. Trust me when I say this. It does not matter how hungry you are, nor how much better your pants seem to fit, or how glorious you feel. You will be heavier than you think.

Late Monday, the scale told me I was actually two pounds OVER that horrible weight the health screening lady had told me. And this is after a week on The Program. I sulked through dinner and went to bed in a huff, convinced WW was just snake-oil and points mumbo-jumbo. I was already plotting calling the whole thing off.

But then, Tuesday morning I thought, Well...I wonder if I shouldn't try just one more time. Just in case. Maybe the planets have realigned. Maybe Mondays are just heavy. Maybe I was wearing my heavy feet.

And lo and behold, I HAVE LOST FIVE POUNDS! For at least five minutes, I danced around my apartment singing some sort of made-up weight-loss song. And then I went and plugged my weight into the graphing thing and it gave me a little star!

Boy, getting that star was like my Oscar moment. "I want to thank my Kashi Instant Oatmeal, for filling me up with healthy whole grains. And peach season, that arrived just in time. You know I love you. And of course I can't forget San Francisco Soup Company. Thanks for always publishing your points online."

But then the machine casually, tactfully mentioned that, ahem, I had a good fifteen pounds to go to meet my target weight--which I assure you does not even seem like a possible number. My target weight looks like...the amount of calories in a tomato or a packet of lemon juice.

And yet, The Program has taken five pounds off me and I haven't been unhappy, unhealthy, or too hungry so I shall trust it...for now.

--May

Jeans for Jesus

2008-06-09T17:46:00.000-07:00

My current obsession?

His Spirit Jeans. (Thanks to Andy, by way of Sarah and Becky, for the tip.)

What could be a better witnessing tool than your own butt? Come on, ladies. They’re going to a double-take anyway. You might as well make sure they’re looking at something good. Like scripture.

If you zoom in (or go to the site), you can see that these jeans are not only skin-tight, they also have an indecipherable symbol + bible reference on the rear pockets! There are several different types, each with its own scripture. But the holiness of these jeans doesn’t stop there. Check out the best selling feature:

“The full scripture will be silk-screened inside the waist band.”

That’s right. You have to actually remove the jeans to share the verse, as it turns out. While anyone can read the reference, apparently only that certain someone gets to see the, um, verse in its entirety.

Be sure to check out the site. It's a good reminder of the old adage that nothing says Jesus Loves You like tight jeans and stiletto boots.

But for some reason, the waistbands on these things are oddly, well, high. Personally, I prefer my jeans not to go up to my armpits. Apparently, the subtext here is: Christians don’t do crack.

But wait!

A don’t miss this rival company!

316 Jeans are slightly more modest (in the “I cover myself up” way, not in the sense of being free from ostentation or showy extravagance). Wearers of these jeans don’t hide their light under the metaphorical bushel. No! They splay it indecipherably across their legs instead.

In addition to verses and random and slightly questionable sayings (“Ride with Jesus”?), these fashionable specimens offer cross rivets—you may have to zoom in to get a good shot of those, but it’s totally worth it—and icthus stitching on the pockets.

With those pockets, wearing these jeans is like putting a fish decal on your, um, trunk.

I'm going to stop now. Just remember, folks. Whatever you wear for the least of these, you wear for Jesus. Do it with style.

What's the Point(s)

2008-06-08T21:14:00.001-07:00

These are my skinny jeans. This is the goal.

In my extended family there are two kinds of people: those on Weight Watchers and those not. In both camps there are people of all sizes and of both genders, and up until very recently I was FIRMLY in the Not on Weight Watchers Camp. I could have been the Not on Weight Watchers Mascot.

But then I went to France. Well, change that. It started long before France. To blame France really isn't fair. Truthfully, it probably all started with my fiance, way back in New York, a good five years ago when we were just dating.

My fiance, bless him, is from good, lean stock. They are a tall, slender family who can eat just about anything they lay their eyes on and still be fine. And this is pretty much his policy. And so, nice girl that I am and not wanting to make him feel bad, I sort of adopted it too and now I eat like...a five foot eleven inch MAN with SKINNY GENES.

My dear friends, it has recently come to my attention that I am a five foot two inch woman with an average metabolism. In short (oohh, good pun), I have been eating too much. In fact, a few months ago we had a health screening at work and when the woman uttered my weight to me, I just looked at her like she was nuts. Even now, I cannot bear to repeat it. I was like, Come again? It was a number that I couldn't even relate to.

Meanwhile, tricky old Weight Watchers was trying to worm its way into my heart. First a dear friend did the online version and lost seven pounds. She looks svelte and happy and keeps raving about how fun(?!) it is. Then in France I met the head of the Food & Nutrition department for a major U.S. magazine and she too was raving about Weight Watchers. She told me that it is the most successful diet for Americans.

When I came home from France and I saw my wedding dress in my closet I finally sighed and said to myself, Okay, it's time to change camps. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I signed up that night for the online program and promised myself I'd give it three months.

And I'm here to say that...IT'S A GIRL VIDEO GAME. For the uninitiated, here's how it works (at least for the online program). You sign up and the machine decides how many points you get for every day. Then you have an online tracker where you record everything you eat in a day, but you can only use your alloted points.

When you enter a food, the machine looks it up and comes back with a number for you like, Cheerios, 2 points. If you want extra points, it's time to hit the gym. (I get two points for walking to and from work).

Maybe it's my competitive spirit but it's a lot of fun trying to beat your points goal and eat healthily. It's also fascinating to see what's the better option. For instance, what do you think would be the better choice between a croissant and a scone?

Did you say the scone? BUUUZZZZ! You're wrong. It's the croissant. SEE! It's a girl video game.

And now, I can see what all my Weight Watcher relatives were so excited about all those years. Sure, it used to drive me bonkers when they'd call out the points for every single item on the McDonald's menu, but now I've become one of them. In fact, I LOVE to talk about points.

So hopefully this works, but I'm sort of thinking it will because I have eliminated all snacking and am really ramping up my veggie eating (no points!). And let's just say that the captain of the Weight Watchers team was extremely pleased that I've joined the dark side.

--May

This Week in God

2008-06-05T16:51:00.000-07:00

This weeks’ top story: Not all Christians are jerks! No, I’m serious, it's true. Check it out here. Apparently this is big news.

Also big news? Not all Christians think faith and politics are the same thing! This is shocking stuff , people. Groundbreaking journalism.

And not only that, they’re not all dumb!

I don’t know what was in the water this week, but a lot of people had a grand old time disabusing themselves of stereotypes they should not have held in the first place.

Let’s see. What else happened this week? Barack Obama officially quit his church, citing Jeremiah Wright’s major craziness as his reason.

A wrestling coach at a high school outside Detroit has lost his job for taking young boys in tight clothes and teaching them to roll around on a mat together… and then baptizing them.

In Detroit, an 8-foot tall Jesus was stolen from the cross in front of a church. This would be hilarious if it weren't so sad. Word on the street is, the theives might have been looking for valuable copper to sell. Too bad this Jesus was made out of plaster.

Is anyone else having trouble picturing this scene? Some guys come up to a church and steal Jesus Christ off a cross with, like power tools or something? How did they get him off without anyone noticing? And then they tuck an eight-foot Jesus under their arm and run off? Does this make any sense?

Oh, and of the best movies ever is becoming a musical!

Between this and the new Dolly Parton musical, based on another one of the best movies ever (thanks for the tip, Natalie!),

I may become a theater buff yet!

That's all the news from the pews, people. Now go out and bust some stereotypes!

Sound Off: Sex and the City

2008-06-04T18:42:00.000-07:00

Any Sex and the City fans out there?

I have to admit, I was never really that into the show. It’s not that it offended me, it’s just that I never had HBO. Also, it’s a little too… self-consciously cute, maybe. It was like they knew everything they were saying was astonishingly clever, and that bugged me.

BUT. The clothes. The guys. The friendship. Those of us who’ve ever had anything to do with chick lit owe a pretty big thank you to Carrie Bradshaw (as does Manolo Blahnik).

And I do want to see the new movie. It looks fun. Camerin Courtney of Today’s Christian Woman offers an interesting take on it. Check out her endearingly honest review of the movie:

I could've done without the "man-izing"°Xand definitely without the nudity, when I rented the original version [of the show]. But it was refreshing to have a single woman's sexuality acknowledged. In stark contrast, the last time anyone in a Christian setting spoke to the fact that I'm a sexual human being was in a college church group, where I was blithely instructed that "true love waits." Well, 15 years later, it's still waiting. And it ain't so blithely simple.

…

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda, however, show how challenging it really can be for intelligent, accomplished, and admittedly neurotic women to find lasting love. They, unlike many Christians, don't insult my intelligence. Instead they speak to the complexities of relationships in a postmodern age—addressing baby lust, the mommy wars, sexual temptation, dating outside your "class," commitment-phobia, the reluctant desire to be rescued by a man, and the simultaneous fear that you'll lose your own hard-won identity in the process.

This is gutsy stuff, and I applaud Camerin for saying it. But, as darling Lulu (a brand-spankin’ newlywed! [not relevant, just excited]) brought to our attention, not everyone was happy about the favorable review. The Christianity Today message boards lit up in response to this review. A sample of the comments:

Sex and the City is a pornographic film. You implicitly seem to extol the virtues of pornography. I think you should either abandon your stated Christian aims and mission statement, or stop condoning pornography.

The review, which tosses aside well-intended (if ill-informed) Christian dating advice in favor of validating this "meaningful reunion" of "winning friendships," not to mention all that male "eye-candy"? Sheesh. Why read Cosmo when I can read CT [Christianity Today]?

Thanks for the great review of Sex and the City. I appreciate you at a movie that is not typical "Christian" fare… The show had many, many profound insights into womanhood, marriage, love, and relationships—and some things that are not too healthy or Christ-centered. But we must be discerning. I was pleased (and proud) of CT for reviewing the movie. Gives me great fodder for deciding whether or not I should see it.

Something is wrong when you give Sex and the City 3 stars and Prince Caspian 21⁄2. You're giving a higher rating to the most godless, perverted, anti-Christian, pro-gay movie/TV series, and a lower rating to Prince Caspian? Is this really Christianity Today??? Are you guys really serious about Jesus, the Bible, holiness, and biblical truth? It seems like you're just a corporation trying to make money off of unsuspecting, immature Christians. I pray you will come back to biblical standards. God have mercy upon you. [this one cracks me up, btw]

I just read your SATC review and agree with all of it, but I was bummed that you didn't pick up a main underlying theme of the movie—forgiveness!

You can go here to read the rest of the responses. But the furor that erupted made me wonder what you all think. Are you going to see the movie? Do you think it’s ok for Christians to see it? How do you wrestle with things you may not agree with?

Oh, Bordeaux

2008-06-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I am back in the land of fabulous plumbing. Oh France. Why do you insist on having grubby holes in the ground instead of toilets? Why must the actual toilets that you do have each contain a small set of tricks one must perform to get them to flush? Why? Why?

But I tell you what, plumbing aside, it's amazing that anyone ever left the Old World in search of the New. Were they tired of gorgeous castles, could they not bear one more sweeping vista, did the stellar wine and cheese grow tiresome?

So this is where I stayed in Bordeaux. Let's just say that when I found out that the rack rate was 400 euro a night, I wasn't too surprised.

Here's what Bordeaux looked like. It's one of those medieval cities with narrow winding alleys and lots of majestic stone buildings with wrought-iron balconies.

During the day we visited wineries to sample fine vintages and learn about wine making. Here is a spooky wine cave I visited. I'm pretty sure it was haunted. But I wasn't too worried about the ghosts because I figured they were all probably drunk, given the amount of wine in this cave. Everyone knows a drunk ghost is nothing to worry about.

Then, I hopped a train to Paris to visit my dear friend, Staci. She lives across the river from Notre Dame. Seriously. You walk out her front door and, Voila!

On my first night in Paris, Staci threw a party at her apartment. She's moving to Hong Kong in a matter of days and is trying to see as many friends as possible. This meant that I got to practice my halting French on bona fide French people. I successfully said, Oh, I only understand every third word you're saying, which was pretty much the beginning and the end of my attempts at conversing in French. But she does have quite a few expat friends so I didn't have to spend the entire evening in the corner.

Staci and I spent our time avoiding all the normal sights of Paris and instead sampling food from around the world. I had been eating traditional French food for five days on end and it had given me what I was calling "French rot gut." And so we ate Moroccan, African, and Brazilian--and soon I was feeling better. I'm here to say Moroccan food was the best.

And finally Monday I had to fly home. Before leaving I had spent an hour on the phone with Delta making sure that I had an aisle seat for my flight. It was direct and I have a small bladder so I didn't want to be trapped for 11 hours. But the moment I sat down, the Frenchman in the middle seat began to beg me to switch seats with his wife, one row behind him, also in a middle seat.

I wanted with my entire being to say no, but I simply couldn't. I knew giving up my seat was the kind and selfless thing to do, but I definitely don't get any points for doing so because I wasn't really okay with it until about...Hour Ten. You should have seen me when I realized that not only was I sitting in the middle seat for an 11-hour flight, but the sound for my seat didn't work unless I held the earphone jack into the seat's arm.

But I did arrive home in one piece. And obviously (see pictures above) I have so much to be thankful for. And I do think it was a good lesson in selfless behavior. Maybe next time I give up my seat I can do it with a cheerful heart.

And now I must run. The NINE HOUR time difference is killing me.

a bientot,

May

What'd You Bring Me?

2008-06-02T18:27:00.000-07:00

Apparently I haven’t been on vacation in too long, because I’m kind of obsessed with May’s recent trip to France. (She’ll be back here soon, and I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it if you ask nicely). I want to know what she ate and where she stayed and all that, but mostly I want to know what kinds of souvenirs she brought back (not for me, for herself).

There’s something so interesting to me about souvenirs. Maybe it’s because I pass rows of souvenir shops everyday, selling everything from I Love New York shot glasses to foam Statue of Liberty hats (also postcards—If you ever want to freak somebody out, send them a postcard of the city they live in and write “wish you were here!” on the back), but what people choose as mementos of their vacations is fascinating to me.

Now, on our last real trip, which was for our anniversary, Wayne and I brought home a trunkful of cheese. We brought home bags and bags of coffee from our honeymoon in Costa Rica, as well as this bowl we bought specifically to keep keys in (seemed n appropriate accessory for our new home).

Last time I was in London, I bought clothes in a cool little thrift store, mainly so that when people ask me where I got something, I could say “in a cool little thrift store in London.” I got flip flops that say Canada from, well, Canada.

When I go places on my own, I like to bring Wayne the ugliest souvenir I can find, like that pearlescent toothpick holder from Key West up there. I once got him
a potholder from San Jose. I asked my parents to pick out the ugliest thing they could find in the airport gift shop because I was too lazy to go myself, and that’s what they came back with. I bought him an ice cube tray that makes ice shaped like the state of Texas in Austin.

In return, he usually brings me something really thoughtful and nice, like an awesome tote bag or a well-designed key ring.

The point is, souvenirs are interesting. What’s the best souvenir you’ve ever brought back from a vacation? May, what did you bring back?

Sound Off: Out of Gas?

2008-06-01T19:06:00.000-07:00

I love San Francisco. I love the art galleries, the fact that I can have Burmese food without any trouble at all, and the good coffee--but I don't love what a bubble it can be. This week, our gas prices out here broke the $4 mark. I walked past the sign and shook my head, but I'll be honest and say I really don't know what that means for most Americans.

I live in an apartment with no AC. It's cold every day here so we don't need it. In fact, as I write this I'm in sweatpants and a hoodie. I live in the city center and I walk a mile to work. I drive my car once a week to the grocery story, which is 1,056 ft. from my apartment (thanks, Google maps!). I have a 1999 Honda Accord hand-me-down from my mom that I can fill up for $50 bucks...once every few months.

How are things out there? Are you doing anything differently to avoid the gas crunch? Biking to work? More carpooling? Saving up for a hybrid? Thinking of moving into the city?

I'd love to hear any stories if you've got them. As someone who can remember the price of gas being .75 in college, it seems to me that life in the U.S. is changing. In the long term, it makes me happy for the environment, but in the short term, I worry about squeezing the very ones who need a break the most.

--May

This Week in God

2008-05-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

Another fun week in the world of religions news. Let’s begin with this car dealership in California, which made news for a radio ad which tells non-Christians to “sit down and shut up.” I guess that kind of thing sells cars? Oh wait, no. Women in bikinis sells cars.

And then for those of you who are tired of summer camps where you sit around the campfire, toast marshmallows, and sing songs about Jesus, here’s an alternative. You still get the campfire and the marshmallows, but without all the pesky Jesus stuff. This camp is for kids who are atheists, agnostics, or unsure of what they believe, which is cool, although I can’t imagine summer camp that doesn’t involve It Only Takes a Spark, Kumbayah sung in a round, and an altar call (or else zombies and Kevin Bacon), but to each his own I suppose.

Sharon Stone, fount of all wisdom, joins the ranks of such luminaries as John Hagee and Jerry Fallwell (who blamed September 11 on "the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way...") and blames the quake in China that killed 80,000 people on bad karma. Right back at ya, Sharon. (That was a karma joke. Get it?)

Actually, watching her statement in context, she’s actually trying to say something nice, isn’t she? I mean, that whole thing about karma kind of sucked, but she was really talking about forgiveness here, right? Or am I missing something?

The Wittenberg Door, one of the few humorous Christian magazines in existence (we don’t much like to laugh at ourselves), gives us this list of the ten worst movies about Jesus. I do take exception to one of my personal favorites, Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter being included, however.

OK, seriously, this movie is terrible (and, you know, kind of heretical). Don’t waste your time and money, though you’re welcome to borrow my copy. But according to this list, I have nine other awful movies to check out, which should make for a fun weekend.

Sage Advice

2008-05-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

I have a guilty pleasure. Actually, apparently I have a lot of those. But my current favorite guilty pleasure is Dolly Parton (I don’t feel so bad because I know May likes her a lot too). It kind of started as a joke and somehow spiraled into a full-blown obsession. I love this woman. She’s so funny and smart and genuine and inspiring, and, well, what a set of lungs.

Plus, when I was reading her autobiography last year, I came across this line, which pretty much cemented my love for her: “Although I look like a drag queen’s Christmas Tree on the outside, I am at heart a simple country woman.” You have to love a woman with that much confidence in who she is.

It’s gotten so bad that my gay best friend (what kind of stereotypical chick lit writer would I be if I didn’t have a gay best friend?) and I were actually seriously considering paying $150 a ticket to see her at Radio City Music Hall last month. Eventually, rationality won out, but started us thinking about taking a road trip to Dollywood for my thirtieth birthday next year. We’ll see how that pans out.

Anyway, recently I’ve been obsessed with a song from her latest album Backwoods Barbie.

Warning: This video starts off kind of crazy. Actually, the whole video is kind of crazy, now that I think about it, but it makes me so happy.

OK, I know it’s not the best song in the world, but I like it because it’s all about how people always ask Dolly for advice, and it’s actually really good advice.

Check this out:

I said you'd better get to livin', givin'
Be willing and forgivin'
Cause all healing has to start with you

How much time have I wasted being bitter about things instead of letting healing start with me?

Or this:

You better get to livin', givin'
A little more thought about bein'
A little more willin' to make a better way

Instead of complaining about things, why don’t I put more thought into making them better?

Or this:

Don't sweat the small stuff
Keep your chin up
Just hang tough
And if it gets too rough
Fall on your knees and pray
And do that everyday

I’m pretty sure I’d be a happier person—and have happier people around me—if I followed this advice every day.

I’m pretty sure I just violated every copyright law in existence sharing those lyrics, but Dolly, it’s because I love you! People, go out and buy this song—but the whole album—so that I don’t get sued.

How about you? What’s your favorite advice, from a song or otherwise?

What's Wrong With the Bachelorette ?

2008-05-27T20:18:00.000-07:00

The other night I watched The Bachelorette premier with a huge bag of popcorn and my lovely irony cap tied on tight. Look, I know it's not good TV--and I know it's not reality--but you have to understand that when crazy women scream at the Bachelor that their "eggs are rotting," or when one of the previous Bachelors ends up dating Marla Maples for a spell, I just can't turn away. It's a desperation train wreck.

(Also, side note: Is Chris Harrison the nicest person on the planet? Yes, I thought so.)

The wildly popular Bachelor franchise just wrapped its 12th season(!) on the air. While the poor, sad Bachelorette franchise is currently in its 4th season, featuring Deanna, a Southern belle.

And when you compare the two shows, some interesting differences emerge. First, the men who participate in the Bachelorette are of a far lower caliber than the women who participate in the Bachelor. And second, viewers (overwhelmingly young single women for both shows) seem to prefer the set-up of The Bachelor, which seems illogical at first.

First, let's talk quality. As I watched one sad lug of a guy after another pile out of the limo to meet Deanna, I grew more and more depressed. Why are her choices so bad? There are arguably three viable options out of the original 25 guys. Meanwhile each season of The Bachelor the guy is introduced to doctors, lawyers, business women--many, many of whom look like models. Is this show just reinforcing yet again that there are no good guys left?

I think it's something else. The demographics of the two shows are young women. Men don't watch either show and have little love for them. And so when it comes time to find contestants for it, the producers struggle.

Well, truthfully, this isn't just a theory. A guy friend of mine who is a comic in LA was approached to be one of Deanna's choices. I was like DO IT! But he said the now immortal words: You can't come back from that. Few normal guys would go on this show. And yet, women don't see any harm in participating.

Now, let's talk about why we prefer the Bachelor. It seems like we should prefer to watch one very sought after woman pick and choose between 25 men. But the numbers overwhelmingly suggest that we instead like to watch women fight with each other for one small scrap of a man. What gives?

The answer, I believe is competition. We are by nature a very jealous creature that loves a good challenge. Most of us would prefer to prevail over 25 women and be proclaimed the victor in the end, than be fawned over by drooling geeks. Plus, it's the idea of being special. If a man were to be bombarded with an embarrassment of riches and he STILL chose you, it feels so good.

Or maybe not. What do you think?

--May

PS Go Jason the Single Dad! I'm rooting for you, dude!

Here's a good recap of both shows. I love how only two Bachelors are now married--and neither to their "final rose" recipient.

Hallelujah.

2008-05-26T19:07:00.000-07:00

Every year, about February, I start to wonder why it is that I live in this city. It’s cold and gray and depressing and every February I contemplate moving back to California.

And then, every May, I remember why I stay. It’s gorgeous here now, and after a long holiday weekend with perfect weather, it’s hard to imagine living anywhere else.

Memorial Day might be my favorite holiday, because summer is my favorite season, and on Memorial Day, the summer is still fresh and new. The victory over winter is still recent enough that you haven’t yet forgotten how miserable those long months were, and there’s still plenty of hope and promise for what the summer holds.

This is all to say, we had a wonderful long weekend. We painted two rooms in our apartment, had a couple dinners with friends (both of which involved a serious cheese course), had drinks with a neighbor, sat on a couple roof decks (there aren’t a lot of yards in Brooklyn, so the really fabulous people have roofs. I point his out only because we had our rehearsal dinner on Wayne’s roof and had to explain to the out-of-town guests that it was actually really cool), ate a deliciously rich meal at the new French bistro in our hood (a graduation gift from my mom), went for some long, leisurely runs in the park, and enjoyed the beginning of summer. Oh, and wrote. Always writing. But all in all, it was a nice, relaxing weekend. It was a good reminder of what summer is all about: slowing down, enjoying the weather, celebrating life. I hope to spend the rest of the summer trying to remember to enjoy life.

Did anyone do anything fun for the long weekend? Other than May, who went to France and made me so insanely jealous I can’t even talk about it?

Seventy Times Seven

2008-05-25T20:35:00.000-07:00

I swear, sometimes I'm just fumbling through this awkward adventure called life. Last week I was a jerk to a friend in a public way. I didn't do it on purpose, of course, I just climbed up on a soapbox...and sort of liked the view from there a little too much. The moment after it happened, I regretted it. But what could I do?

There's almost nothing as powerful as the innate shame a person feels when they have done something wrong. I don't know about you, but my stomach clamps up, I can't sleep, and I'm wracked by shame and guilt. Truthfully, about the only I thing I want to do is crawl in a hole and hide. I find myself even picturing it: a nice little cabin somewhere, far, far, far from civilization, away from my shame.

I apologized to my friend both privately and publicly, but I still felt very powerless and only slightly better. Sadly, I can't go back and stop myself from doing it. I wish I could. And so inevitably it is these gross feelings of inadequacy and humiliation that always send me in search of God had to say about everything. Somehow I always think it will make me feel worse, but it always makes me feel better.

The Bible's tone on forgiveness is one of resignation and patience. When I read:

Colossians 3:13
Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. (NIV)

I almost laugh. Bear with each other! Ain't that the truth? It seems to acknowledge that on some days, just putting up with each other is nearly impossible, like we're all siblings and our mother is shaking her head after the 10th fight of the day, saying, Just try to stick it out.

I also love this verse and find great comfort in it:

Matthew 18:21-22
Then Peter came and said to Him, "Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?"Jesus said to him, "I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.

Here, Peter is like, Dude, Jesus. I've forgiven someone like seven times. I'm done. That's okay, right? And God is like, What? You must be trippin'. You have to forgive people an infinite number of times. That's kind of the deal.

As a child when we were ugly to one another, our parents forced us to give each other hugs, which we never meant...at first. But somewhere along the way of going through the motions of apologizing, we learned how to say I'm sorry and mean it. Our father would always say, This is the family you've got. You're going to love them no matter what.

And that's what it's like to be a human too, I suppose. We're all God's creatures and we're all one big family. I hurt my friend and I feel terrible. But I'm sure I'll do it again someday (not to her, hopefully) and I'm sure others will sting me with their words, humiliate me, and ridicule me. But we must forgive. It is the only way forward.

Um, how long does it take to stop feeling so bad? Anyone have an estimate on that?

--May

This Week in God

2008-05-22T20:33:00.000-07:00

First up this week, Purity Balls. What's that you ask? Why every little girl's dream. This is the hottest new trend off the holy presses wherein young maidens get dolled up, pledge not to have sex until they're married, and then...dance the night away with their dads? (record skips) Apparently so, according to this New York Times article. I don't know about you guys, but I would not have been caught dead dancing with my dad at this age (love you, Dad! Wanna dance?). But these gals seem quite happy.

Think you've seen a heavenly host? These Beliefnet readers do. Here's a fascinating collection of reader-submitted snaps of angels. Personally, I think "No Ordinary Woman" is the most convincing.

Also this week, John McCain officially rejected the endorsement of controversial pastor John Hagee of San Antonio after this video surfaced.

In other news, Prince Caspian the movie came out and there was much hubbub. Janet blogged about it on her site and USA Today covered it too. Many people seem to be saying it was a disappointment, but I wouldn't know. I'm reading all of the Chronicles of Narnia for the first time.

Sorry, can't resist posting this:

And finally This Week in God ends on a very very very very sad note. This morning People reported that Steven Curtis Chapman's daughter died in a tragic accident. This story really affected me and I'm sure they're very much in all of our prayers.

--May

Funny Christian Art Day

2008-05-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

There’s actually nothing wrong with this Jesus statue. It’s pretty standard, really. Sacred Heart of Jesus. Plastic. Awesome.

It’s where it sits that really delights me. I firmly believe that what matters in real estate matters in Jesus art: Location, location, location.

Check this out (warning: this video may make you seasick).

Steven Speilberg, eat your heart out.

By the way, the way the camera is tilted? Creative, not moronic. I swear. I totally know how to flip the video so it’s right side up, I just don’t want to. Yeah.

Bonjour Christophe!

2008-05-20T19:23:00.000-07:00

Somehow, we haven't talked about my francophilia yet. Actually, I think I know why. I haven't been to France in...five years. Even as I type that I can barely believe it. Back then, the exchange rate was nearly even. Oh those were blissful times for a young starving publishing assistant.

My francophilia started in high school. You must understand that Southerners find the French very...silly and possibly even a little dangerously obsessed with dairy. And so when I entered high school and I had to choose between French and Spanish, I of course chose Spanish. It's worth mentioning that though my tiny hometown had probably two families whose first language was Spanish, common thinking at the time was that someday very soon we'd all be speaking Spanish in America. It's also worth noting that we were all going to use the metric system by the time I was an adult, thus learning it was VITAL. Ahem.

Then, between my junior and senior year, some seriously masochistic teachers volunteered to lead a group of us to Spain and France so that we could finally speak these strange languages we had been studying. My awesome parents agreed to foot the bill and soon I was off on my first real trip.

We hit Spain first and to say that I was disappointed was putting it mildly. Did you know it's very arid there? Um, Florida should be renamed the Emerald State because it's so lush. Spain was quite a shock. Also, (good people of Spain, do not kill me) I didn't love the food and the locals seemed to love to make out...a lot...in public parks.

And so by the time we made it to France I had lowered my expectations for Europe and hoped only to enjoy a nice croissant. But something strange happened within hours of my toes touching French soil, I fell in love. From the sweeping views of Notre Dame on the Bateaux-Mouche to the je ne sais quoi of the fashionista women, I thought, I am home! There wasn't a thing I didn't like about it.

And so a 15-year-old May made a promise to herself. I swore I would go home, study French, and someday return to live in this magical place. And I did just that...save the living there. In college I nearly minored in French and spent a summer abroad in the land of the cheese lovers living with a vraiment French family. And though I never moved there, my college roommate Staci did and I've been going back to visit her ever since.

And every year, it only gets worse. Why, when I was an assistant editor at Doubleday Broadway, I bought an amazing memoir by the lovely Rebecca Ramsey. It's called FRENCH BY HEART and is the story of how she picked up her Southern family and moved them to the heart of France when her husband was transferred there for work. And it's incredible. But don't take my word for it. (Her blog rules too.)

And all of this is to say...I'm going to back to France next week! My day job is writing about travel and I've been so lucky as to land a press trip to Bordeaux to learn about wine making. I know! The torture! Then of course I will be visiting ma cherie Staci in Paris.

To prepare I have been listening to hilarious French language tapes of canned conversations between two people: Christophe and Florence. And I tell you what, if Christophe does not go to Florence's party next Saturday and buy a chocolate cake like he said he would, I'm going to be very disappointed in him!

Anyways, so now you know that my cheesemaking is really just my francophilia acting out and that my home away from home has always been and forever will be France. I think everybody has a spot in the world that just speaks to them--but I could be wrong.

--May

PS These are some antique suitcases I bought to decorate a random corner in my apartment. It seemed fitting for a travel writer.

Might as Well Face It, You're Addicted to Chairs

2008-05-19T18:59:00.001-07:00

Some girls have shoe addictions. Some people can’t get enough purses. For some people, it's crack. (Crack is whack. Also, always good for a laugh.) Me? I’m addicted to furniture.

I’ve been pretending it wasn’t happening for a long time. I’d buy a piece here, and another one there, and tell myself it didn’t matter. There’s nothing wrong with buying furniture. I could stop any time I wanted.

This weekend I lost control. We went to visit some friends in Massachusetts, and we ended up at this giant flea market near their house. We weren’t interested in the vintage clothes or the jewelry or the historical artifacts or anything else (luckily, Wayne has the same compulsion I do). All we had eyes for was the furniture, and we have our system down to a T. In about five seconds, we would scan a booth and know whether there was anything worth buying. We’re like a couple of old ladies. Anyway, the upshot is, we bought these chairs.

Six of them.

Now, I know they’re not for everyone. As we considered them, people would walk by and point at them and laugh. But we love them. We have this old-fashioned table and I really wanted something modern to mix it up. Mid-century modern is my favorite style. We love them so much that we bought them for our dining room table on the spot (they were so cheap! We'd be losing money not to buy them!) even though:

a) We don’t have a dining room
b) We had almost no money in our bank account, and now we have none
c) We already have six chairs for our table
d) We only had a Honda Accord in which to get six of them home

Now, if this were an isolated incident, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. But this weekend we also bought this chandelier (also mid-century modern, also fab) despite the fact that we already have two chandeliers in our apartment and two more in the basement.

As we drove away, giggling about what great deals we got, I started thinking about exactly how much furniture we’ve acquired since the beginning of this year. Some of it you’ve seen here already.

We got a bed.

Two nightstands along with it.

We bought this couch.

And this bar.

That’s right folks, it lights up when you open it. Oh yeah. We actually got rid of our TV so we’d have room for this thing. It was so worth it.

That’s all since January. Now, without exception, we got this stuff at bargain-basement prices, and most of it we could easily turn around and sell it for twice what we paid. (Do I sound like I'm justifying? I'm not justifying. Why would you say I'm justifying?) But, um, I live in a one-bedroom apartment. It’s not like I have lots of extra rooms to fill. It’s starting to look like a vintage store in here. That or 1953.

Does anyone else have this problem? Or can you share about your own addictions so I don’t feel so bad?

The good news is, I think I figured out what I’m going to do when I retire. Wayne and I are going to hit the flea markets like a couple of old ladies until we have no room left in our apartment to walk. It’s going to be so sweet.

I've Got a Time Bomb in My Mind, Mom

2008-05-18T22:23:00.000-07:00

Here's the timeline of my descent into madness this weekend.

Friday:

I'm working from home when the doorbell rings. Who could it be? A nice delivery man hands me a box from Nordstrom's and suddenly I know what it is. THE DRESS! The shipping info said it wouldn't arrive until July! I can't believe my luck.

I tear it open and see...yellow? Is that just the plastic it's in? The lighting in this room? I pull the dress out and hold it up to the windows. Nope. It's definitely a little yellow. Since when did "off-white" mean "coffee-stained teeth"?

I remain calm. Okay, so my wedding dress is a little yellow. It's going be dark in that cathedral anyways. No one will be able to see it. And so I shimmy into it, noticing another dismaying problem: stripes.

I zip up the back as best I can (of course it doesn't fit), but I can't even worry about the size or the yellowish color. What I'm looking at is a striped dress from head to toe. Does this dress looked striped to you?!

(Okay, yes. A little now that I look at it right.)

Instead of hyperventilating I reminded myself I had LOADS of time to find a new one. I'll just send this sucker back and find a different dress on the Internet. This is why I love living in 2008. No sweat.

But later that night, I wasn't finding any better options online. I was looking at websites I'd never even heard of and still nothing. Then, like a ray of light from fashion heaven I stumbled across the most interesting tidbit of news. The designer who made the Dietrich was having a sample sale! On Saturday! It felt like fate.

But there was just one problem. The sample sale (where everything would be AT LEAST 50% off--oh how those words did make my heart sing) was by appointment only and the salon was closed for the day. So what did I do? Why, what any perfectly sane (read: seriously losing it) bride-to-be would do. I called, and I called. I left messages. Then I sent emails. Um. Way too many emails and messages. Like, um, I'm not even going to tell you how many. And in each one I begged: Please give me an appointment tomorrow. Please. I need this.

Saturday:

The next morning, when the salon called, I did the dance of joy around my apartment. I informed my very obliging fiance (who thought he was going to have this Saturday off) that we were going wedding dress shopping, but maybe, probably, almost certainly I forgot to mention that my sanity was on the very verge of snapping because the dress I wanted had not worked out and I had looked at dresses on the Internet until my eyes bugged out and I didn't like any of them, and really it all came down to this--couldn't he see that?!? Yes, in retrospect, I probably should have mentioned that to him.

So suffice to say on our short walk over to the salon, he made a harmless joke, and I STARTED TO SOB ON THE STREETS OF SAN FRANCISCO.

--What's wrong? What did I do?

--I don't want to joke! At all! I need you.

--I'm here. I'm here. I just don't know what I did.

--I DON'T WANT TO JOKE.

Even now, I can't remember what he made a joke about, nor why it made me cry, but I do remember clearly that I didn't want to joke, and at the time, it made all the sense in the world.

He just took my hand and said, "Okay, no joking. I'm here." (Don't worry, later I would apologize profusely. I don't break down often but when I do, it can be ugly.) And I pulled it together before we had to enter the salon and pretend like we were the kind of people who never, ever fought about stupid things.

But the good news is that it was all worth it. I'm happy to say I bought a dress! Well, actually, my mom bought it. She wanted to give me something for the wedding and she felt I was being a little severe about my pricing so she swooped in and saved the day.

Here it is:

I really thought I'd go with something a lot more modern (and the Dietrich was not on sale) but there were only 4 dresses in the whole sample sale that were even in my price range, even when they were 50, 60, and 70% off, (I'm cheap to fault. I know!) and when I tried this one on, it just seemed to like being on me. Plus, I think the sales girl said it made me look taller, which to a short person is like, well, crack.

Sighhhhhh. And so I finally have the dress, after a near disastrous weekend. Thank you for indulging me in one last wedding dress post. It's bought and paid for, all sales final. It wasn't $300, but it was far below average (my sweet mom looked up the average to make me feel better) and I just love it.

Does anything feel better than finally finding your wedding dress?

--May

This Week in God

2008-05-15T20:56:00.000-07:00

This edition of This Week in God is out of this world...literally. The Vatican announced on Tuesday that it's okay to believe in aliens. And I don't mean like family-friendly C.S. Lewis aliens--real, honest-to-god green-skinned little men. (That joke was supposed to point out that when C. S. Lewis does witchcraft it's okay, but not when JK Rowling does it. Get it now? Get it?)

And while aliens are okay, Kansas Gov. Kathleen Sebelius is not, apparently. She has been told by Roman Catholic Archbishop Joseph Naumann not to take communion until she stops supporting abortion rights and confesses her sins.

On a lighter note, I have always felt that Slate is written by people who have too much time on their hands. For years I have imagined them sitting around and coming up with hilarious columns like The Explainer, where people ask: Why are some cats softer than others? And now I have proof! This week they explored how different people waste time on the job, including a rabbi and an imam. Gosh, who doesn't love YouTube?

Also, are the evangelicals rising up against the Religious Right? Some think so. Last week a group of prominent evangelicals released An Evangelical Manifesto. The document condemns politics from the pulpit and challenges evangelicals to avoid becoming "useful idiots" for any political party. Many have also pointed out that some of the biggest names in the movement refused to sign it, such as Dr. James Dobson.

And finally, hot off the presses, California overturned the ban on gay marriage Thursday morning. Here's a nifty article that lists a variety of responses, including Dobson's.

Lots to discuss here...go for it but keep it above the belt.

--May

News You Can Use

2008-05-14T18:12:00.000-07:00

You know what’s weird? Aside from this?

When Heath Ledger died, I know within the hour, as did everyone else I know.

It took me two days to learn that something like 100,000 people died in Myanmar last week. And when I started to Wayne about it a day after that, he didn’t know what I was talking about.

It was mid-afternoon on Monday before I heard about the earthquake in China (a discussion which quickly devolved into how big the time difference is and whether we could warn them before it happened (if only we had the flux capacitor!!)).

I accept that I’m not the most with-it person in the world, but it’s not like news is delivered via pony express these days. If I had been looking, I would have known about the tragedies in Asia sooner. But does anyone else think it’s odd that we (I) seem to know and care more about celebrity news than, um, real news? I mean, sometimes I watch CNN when I’m at the gym and there’s nothing good on VH1, but I would pretty much take celebrity gossip over news news any day.

I can’t decide if that means I’m a horrible, shallow person who needs to care more about The Big Issues, or if it’s ok, because the world is big and scary and bad things happen and sometimes not knowing about horrible things you can’t control means it’s easier to make it through the day. Reading that 15,000 people died in a horrible earthquake makes me feel inept and impotent, because there’s not much I can do to help. Reading that there’s a secret plot against Lauren Conrad makes me feel smart (though highly unfashionable).

What do you guys think? How do you hear about and process everything that happens in this crazy world?

Dress for Success

2008-05-13T18:43:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, step right up and behold (what I hope will be) my wedding dress.

I was talking on the phone to my mom the other night and she said, "Have you made any progress on the dress?"

"Well, no. But I blogged about it."

"I heard," she said. "Your sister told me."

(Mom sits down and plays around on the Internet about once a week. It's better to relay info to her through Ma Bell than via email.)

"Right, well, everyone chimed in and said they spent about $300. The dress I liked was almost $2,000. So now I'm sort of stuck. I can't justify it. People are starving, you know."

"All right," she said, taking a deep breath. "Let's work on this now. I'll get on the Internet."

I swallowed, a little afraid. If Mom was getting on the Internet voluntarily, she meant business. This is the same person who once told me her computer was broken, and when I pressed her, she admitted that actually it wasn't broken, she was just mad at it. (Love you, Mom!)

"Well," I said. "My friend Lulu chimed in and said there are some good cheap dresses on Nordstrom's online bridal site."

Mom and I quickly found the site and began to debate the pluses and minuses of all the dresses we found. "Too Grecian," I'd say. "Too much skin!" she'd say. And she kept getting lost in the site, having to start all over by googling "Nordstrom Bridal shop." But eventually it was exactly this (lack of) Internet prowess that found me "the dress."

She was hopelessly lost yet again when she screamed into the phone, "I found it!" she said. "I think I found the perfect one."

And I had to admit, I thought she was right. It doesn't show too much skin, it doesn't look like I think I'm Aphrodite, and when I sent the picture to my fiance, he loved it. (We agreed to shoot all our wedding pictures before the ceremony so there's no sense in hiding it from him. He's going to see it.)

Here's the back.

It doesn't arrive in the mail until July so let's just all pray it looks good on and fits me. Plus, I'm going to have to get a wrap made and glue the dress to me. But at $360 bucks, it was a steal. It's BCBG, by the way, and I'm not sure it's even a wedding gown, but I think it's very me.

So I just wanted to thank ALL of you who chimed in. Mom and I agreed it was a huge help. And a special thanks goes out to Lulu, who tipped me off about Nordstrom's bridal site.

I'm getting so excited about the big day!

--May

PS Does anyone have a good family recipe you can send me for Strawberry Rhubard Pie? We don't eat this in the South but my CSA box gave me some rhubarb and I'm going to try to use it.

Looking In

2008-05-12T17:30:00.000-07:00

Everyone once in a while, it’s a good idea to take a good long look in the mirror.

Ok, that song doesn’t totally relate, I just wanted to post a Michael Jackson video.

But seriously, it’s always interesting to see how other people view you. Sometime painful, but always interesting.

That’s why I’m loving this book Rapture Ready!: Adventures in the Parallel Universe of Christian Pop Culture. It’s by a Jewish guy who investigates the fascinating world of the Christian subculture. If you’ve been around the church long, you’re not going to be surprised by a lot here: funny t-shirts! Crap (“art”) for your home! Christian publishing and music industries! From Jim Bakker to Frank Perretti to Amy Grant to Stephen Baldwin, it’s all here.

But what’s interesting to me, and why I keep trying to find time to devour a book where I have not yet learned one thing I didn’t already know (I mean, funny Christian stuff? Welcome to my life), is that this is an outsider’s perspective on the crazy things Christians do. It’s a good reminder that, taken from the outside, it’s, well, a lot of it looks really bizarre.

Like, um, Bibleman.

Or Passion plays.

Or Holy Land Experience theme park.

The Bible industry (exactly WHY are there so many translations???).

Even the kinds of books we read and music we listen to. It’s really fascinating to see how other people see the things Christians do and the culture we’ve created.

And this article, Jesus Made Me Puke, from the May issue of Rolling Stone (thanks to my friend Carey, who dug it out of the trash can for me to read) is similar, in that it’s an intimate look at the experience of a church retreat from an outsider’s perspective.

Now, to be fair, it’s actually kind of not cool to make fun of something you don’t really get. Both authors try to understand the worlds they’re investigating, but it’s also clear that they don’t really grasp the motivations and desires of the people they’re interviewing in a way someone who grew up in it would. That’s why they can give such clear-eyed accounts, but, on the other hand, well, I wouldn’t make fun of someone else’s religion, and that's kind of what they're doing here.

But that said, it's pretty rare that you get a chance to see yourself how others see you, and both the book and the article are actually entertaining and witty, and also kind of terrifying and totally worth checking out.

My Sweet Shug

2008-05-11T09:15:00.001-07:00

Hey guys! Hugs, hugs, hugs all around. I've missed you so much, and I have so much to tell you. The moment Blogger locked our blog, my life got pretty interesting. I went to a huge flea market and bought some amazing antique suitcases, I started an herb garden on my balcony (thanks to my sister-in-law, Beth), I bought a wedding dress, and I turned 30. But then, something sad happened, so all of those blogs will have to keep. The day before I turned 30, my final grandparent died.

My grandmother's name was Myrtle, and she was my biggest link to the Old South. She was born in Florida and had two sisters name Mildred and Madrid (pronounce maaa-drid, like Hagrid from Harry Potter, not like the place in Spain.) But she outlived both of her younger sisters by a long stretch.

Grandmommy, as I called her, was the sweetest gal that ever walked the earth. She called everybody, Shug, and would always say, "Come hug Grandma's neck," every time you saw her. And if you were lucky, and she was feeling talkative, you could get her to tell stories about the old days.

One time, when my fiance was meeting her for the first time, she got to talking about "the kids these days." She said, "I don't spect I understand why the kids these days like to wear the labels on the outside of their shirts."

"Oh," I said. "You mean like when T-shirts say Nike or something?"

"I guess so," she said, shaking her head. "It's just that when your daddy was little he always had me put the label on the inside."

We all just stared at her, not really sure what she meant. Luckily, she continued. Grandmommy was from such a foreign world that following her stories was often difficult.

"We would get the flour, you know, in nice cotton sacks." Her voice faded and she looked off in the distance for a second. "We were so poor and I made all the kids clothes to get by. But your daddy didn't want people to know that. So he always had me put the flour label on the inside of the shirt, so as people wouldn't know."

I'll remember that day until I die. It's a story I will tell my children and my children's children. A story about where we come from, about the hard times in the South. There are many more of course, tales about the ice box with a big chunk of ice in it, stories about Granddaddy working on the mail train, sorting and delivering mail all over the Florida Panhandle, stories that make me who I am.

She died in her sleep and finally went to be with my grandfather, a man she married as a very young woman, who died in his early sixties, who she's pined for every day of her life since. Once an old man in her retirement community took a shine to Grandmommy. I said, "Grandmommy, you could have a boyfriend!"

She said to me, "Shug, I'm already married." And that was the way she saw it. So I'm happy for her, up in heaven, fussing over Granddaddy again.

I love you, Shug.

--May

2008-05-08T18:04:00.000-07:00

Oh Man.

LAST week in God, we had Jeremiah Wright being crazy, Miley Cyrus being naked, and Anne Lamott being cool. But since Blogger hates us (not that I’m bitter), we don’t get to experience the awesomeness that is last week’s This Week in God. But never fear, faithful readers. Plenty of fun things happened this week too.

Most notably, the anniversary of May’s birth on Friday. Happy Birthday May! (Everyone should congratulate her—it’s a big one!)

In other news, a lot of people died in Myanmar this week . A lot. It’s really sad. I suppose that doesn’t exactly have a lot to do with This Week in God, except, um, let’s pray for that country. They need help like nobody’s business.

On a more cheerful note, the crazies are alive and well. Or least this man, who wants to legally change his name to In God (first name) We Trust (last name) is. Why? Because “He's... worried atheists might finally be successful in having the phrase "In God We Trust" removed from U.S. currency. ‘Those words are an endangered species.’ I hate to break it to him, but the blue whale is an endangered species. Those words are just words. But kudos to him for cracking me up... I mean living out his faith.

Some guy in Florida (naturally this would happen in Florida) appears to be building an ark by the side of the road. That’s pretty much all the info we have, though, um, yeah. Wow.

Keep up the good work, people. And tune again next week, when we’ll be up and running like normal again. Well, as normal as you can get when this is your co-author.

Happy birthday May!

We're Back!

2008-05-07T18:32:00.000-07:00

A week and a half ago, I realized Apocalypse had arrived. The whole internet had exploded!

But then I calmed down a bit and realized that it wasn’t actually the whole internet that was gone, it was just our blog. Strangely, that didn’t really make me feel a lot better. Somehow our entire blog, all 517 genius, hilarious, witty, insightful entries—I mean all 3 genius, hilarious, witty, insightful entries plus all the rest—had just vanished. It was like our blog had been raptured and we’d been left behind.

You all know I was just looking for an excuse to put that video up again. Actually, I’m kind of proud that I’m only in the third paragraph and already I’ve managed to hit on Armageddon and DC Talk. This means I just have to throw in some tacky Jesus art to have hit the trinity of my favorite blog topics.

Ok wait, where was I? Why the geniuses at Blogger felt like our blog should no longer exist. I think they just don’t like DC Talk, personally.

Anyway, it was kind of scary to wake up and see that everything we’d done for the past two years had just vanished into the cosmos. May and I freaked out, and I think it actually just made me and May even more convinced that the internet is actually out to get us. May also felt this strange need to assure me repeatedly that she didn’t delete our blog, even though I’m the moron who does stuff like that and totally didn’t suspect her at all.

May laid the smack down with the people at Blogger, and we got our blog reinstated, but then Blogger locked it. They marked it as a spam blog, and had to review it before they’d let us post again.

Spam! I mean, I know we post about stupid stuff sometimes, but we don’t have any fillers or artificial preservatives or anything, so it was kind of insulting. I guess that’s what happens when your blog’s name sounds like porn (why does everyone assume Good Girl means the exact opposite?!?!).

This is all to say: If you missed your daily installments of Anne and May’s madness for the past week, that’s why. Because Blogger bites. And if you didn’t even notice… congrats on having a life!

Expect a move to a new location internet soon. And I think we're going to officially go by just Anne&May from now on. But for now, I leave you with this.

You know you missed us.

OMG

2008-05-07T16:50:00.000-07:00

We're back!

More to come...

May

Oh, Baby. Heaven is a Place on Earth*

2008-04-27T21:31:00.000-07:00

As a kid I knew a lot about heaven. It was “up there" and populated by beautiful angels playing harps and floating on clouds. In fact I was so sure that I knew where it was that I spent many a plane ride, high up in the clouds, looking for it.

I was also sure that hell was “down there.” One summer at church camp, my friend pointed out that though we probably shouldn't flip birds at the boys, we could flip off Satan because Jesus wouldn’t mind. In fact, he’d probably be glad that we did. So for an entire sticky Florida summer we walked around shooting birds at the soil, no doubt baffling our sweet teachers who couldn’t fathom what we were up to.

And all this came flooding back to me this week, when yet again Moose came through with another strange and wonderful thing she found on the Internet. Allow me to (hopefully) be the first to introduce you to: Reserve a Spot in Heaven and Reserve a Spot in Hell.

Reserve a Spot in Heaven is not just selling ticket to the Pearly Gates (100% guaranteed or your money back!) but also VIP access to special restricted areas in heaven. They even note that space is running out in the Great Hereafter, and now is the time to act if you're serious about living it up in the next life.

Reserve a Spot in Hell is more of a revenge sort of thing. An annoying coworker who has wheezy breathing? An ex-boyfriend who did you wrong? Now is your chance for eternal revenge and damnation, all for the reasonable price of $12.95!

Though these sites got a good laugh out of me, it also brought me back to all the ways my concepts of heaven and hell have changed. Gone is the sureness of childhood, replaced by a sort of...holy fear and confusion. I guess I've realized that I don't know what it will be like. I am no longer confident that I will see my grandparents again, that I will have a home and a body and maybe even a dog.

Karen Armstrong, a renowned religious scholar and ex-nun, once said in an interview that if Christians get to heaven and find everybody else there, they're going to be pretty ticked off.

At first I was livid at her suggestion that we are such an uncharitable bunch but I've mulling what she said around in my head for a few months, and now I wonder is she right? I ultimately decided that she can only be correct if Christians feel that they are giving up something here on earth in order to get to heaven. And no doubt, some people do feel that way.

But if we feel that we are living life to its fullest and richest potential on earth, as we were instructed, then there could be no disappointment with what we meet or don't meet on the other side. And so I guess that's where I am with heaven and hell now. I've resolved not to get too bogged down with what it will be like and who gets to go and if Buster will be there. Instead I just try to focus on living this life to the best of my abilities, remembering to stop and look at the stars, or set aside a morning to sleep in and savor a cup of coffee.

What do you guys think of heaven and hell now that you're older? Is anyone else more and more confused by the concept?

--May

* If you don't know what this references, you must be younger than me.

This Week in God

2008-04-24T18:55:00.000-07:00

So much news, so many pews...what's a girl to do? (Ouch. Feel free to throw things at me.)

Let's play a game to kick off This Week in God, shall we? If I asked you what your favorite book in the whole wide world is, what would you say? What? What's that you say? The B - I - B - L - E? Well, apparently the nation agrees with you, according to this poll. But what if I asked you, what is your favorite fiction book. Then what would you say? Gone With the Wind? I sort of hope not and yet tis true. Hey! Tolkien! Don't get your panties in a bunch. You were third.

Also, this week it was announced that the 462 children taken from the Yearning for Zion compound in Eldorado, Texas will undergo DNA testing to try to establish their parentage. This decision was met with mixed reactions in the media. The members of Yearning for Zion are a sect of the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Their leader is none other than Warren Jeffs, who was on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted List until his arrest. He's discussed in detail in the amazing book that I can't recommend enough, Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer.

No word yet if Waco, Texas breathed a huge sigh of relief that it's no longer the craziest corner of the Lone Star State. Sic 'Em Bears!

This just in, we are POOR and maybe that's kind of on purpose. This fascinating article picks apart what's behind the wealth gap between conservative Protestants and the rest of America. Is it because they give their wealth away as the Bible says? Is that a bad thing (in light of the housing crisis)?

And that concludes the headlines from on high. Wait? What's that you say? Didn't someone totally miss the point and disgrace the rest of us this week? Well, now that you mention it, yes. Yet again John Hagee said that Hurricane Katrina was God's wrath on New Orleans. Sigh. THAT should be fun to explain to my coworkers...

--May

Funny Christian Art Day

2008-04-23T18:11:00.000-07:00

Today’s specimen is a lovely picture inspired by The Last Supper. I say inspired by because it’s not really The Last Supper that we all know and love.

This is like the generic Last Supper that your mom got on the bottom rack of the supermarket because it’s cheaper and she thought you wouldn’t notice. It’s clearly a representation of the last meal of Christ, but it’s not Leonardo’s (not DeCaprio) famous version, which, in my book, makes it even cooler.

Also, it’s holographic, which gives it extra street cred.

Wayne and I bought this beautiful piece at a junk store around the corner from our church one Sunday. We got there early, and were killing time before the service started. Actually, it may be the only Sunday in history that we got there early.

Anyway, we found this store, and decided to poke around even though it was kind of skanky. The subway out this way is elevated, which means that everything underneath is always dark and loud. The shops lining this street are not the best.

But we had some time, and so we went into this place full of 80’s era answering machines and VHS workout videos, and we struck gold. There was a whole stack of these lovely pictures, and we immediately snapped one up. At $3, I think it was a steal.

Please note the lovely faux marble (plastic) frame and the shiny black “matting.” Also, note the crack in the upper right-hand corner. This was created by our friend Kwame about two hours after we bought the stinkin’ thing. We had laid it on the backseat, and ended up giving Kwame a ride after church, and he threw his guitar onto the back seat and cracked it. It’s ok though, because Kwame is a shrink and since I’m pretty sure I’m going to need one at some point in life, I plan on being nice to him. Also, he sang a gorgeous rendition of a Bonnie Prince Billy song in our wedding, which pretty much means he can crack as many $3 generic skanky holographic Last Suppers as he wants, because we’ll pretty much never make it up to him.

Thanks, Kwame. And thank you Jesus.

How Much Should You Spend on a Wedding Dress?

2008-04-22T21:54:00.000-07:00

My fiance and I are paying for our own wedding and that means certain corners must be cut, and then we must go back and cut them again. And yet, I sort of THRIVE on this kind of challenge. Someone should enter me in the Budget Olympics because although I am not afraid of blowing money when I have it, I am also a champ at stretching a buck.

So this has presented many an interesting budget cut. At this point if something doesn't seem necessary to the actual, I do. Do you? part it's on the Big List of Endangered Wedding Indulgences.

This brings us to my latest situation. How much do you spend on a wedding dress? Really, I pride myself on sort of knowing what stuff costs. A three-bedroom apartment in San Francisco proper? 1.5 million, roughly. An engagement ring? Three months' of the man's salary. A #2 meal at In-N-Out? Less than five bucks. But I have no idea what is a reasonable sum to spend on a wedding gown.

Initially I was planning on spending $300 or less. My thinking here is that I'm only going to wear the darn thing once and I don't really care what I wear so long as I get to get married.

But (all you married peeps out there knew THIS was coming) then I saw this dress and I sort of fell in love with it. It's backless! It's called the Dietrich after Marlene Dietrich! It's very old-timey, which is what I want! And the website gave it a one out of four dollar signs! That MUST mean it's cheap, right?

NO. Either my little budget is totally out of whack or this website has a very skewed dollar-sign price indicator, but I'm thinking it might be my budget. Tonight even my mom was like, "$300? Isn't that...a little extreme?"

The funny things I can afford more and I could even get The Dietrich, but then I might be a little tempted to calculate exactly how much it's costing me to wear it...by the minute!

So I suppose I'm wondering if there is a rule of thumb on wedding dresses. Should they cost, um, roughly a tenth of your total wedding cost? More? Is my budget going to get me laughed out of even Crazy Sam's House of Budget Wedding Frocks?

Also, here's a tidbit my friend Moose sent me this week that I think is helping me keep it all in perspective.

In the 1500s, most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence, the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.

Perhaps I should up my flower budget too. November is a long time after my yearly bath.

--May

Time to Yourself

2008-04-21T18:32:00.000-07:00

Based on the feedback from yesterday’s post that you guys like when we talk about random stuff (who knew?), today I’m going to talk about how I spent the past few days eating food from a box, reading YA novels, letting the cats sleep in the bed, and watching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

That’s right folks: Wayne is out of town. He's at some conference for IT guys. He just called and had me help him figure out how to win Powerpoint Karaoke. Sounds like a party, no? Anyway, I seem to have reverted immediately back to what my life was like before he came along.

Basically, this amounts to two things: Either I stay out too late with friends and eat too much, or I sit at home and talk to no one for very long stretches of time. I’m perfectly happy doing either. When he’s gone, I can hang out with old friends in a way I can’t when he’s around, and I love that, but I also really love holing up on my couch and working uninterrupted for long periods of time and enjoying time to myself to watch TV shows I know he would hate. But whatever I do, it doesn’t involve a) cooking, b) cleaning up someone else’s mess, or c) watching anything with subtitles.

Of course I miss him, and can’t wait for him to come back and all that, but for now, I’m enjoying the single life again. How about you guys? What do you do when you get some time to yourself?

(Btw, thanks to Holly for the tip about Buffy. I can't believe what I've been missing all these years!)

UPDATE: Wayne came in second place in PowerPoint Karaoke! I'm so proud of my nerd. First place won an iPod nano, but second place is even better: a Barnes and Noble gift card!

Make Your Vote Heard!

2008-04-20T17:07:00.000-07:00

When I was in high school, my family took a ski vacation to Colorado and discovered something funny about ourselves: we have a tough time being honest.

The problem arose when we tried to choose where to ski the next day. Some families might scream and yell at each other about this, but we're Southerners and sometimes when big bunches of Southerners get together, they have a hard time expressing their true feelings. Our conversations were going around and around with everyone saying things like, "But Keystone is your favorite!" or "I really love them all equally!" and "I don't mind where we go, honestly!"

And so I said, "Enough is enough! I'm holding a secret vote!" I made everyone write down where they wanted to go and put it in a hat. And you know what we found out? That we all secretly wanted to go to the same place! Isn't that ridiculous?!

So in the spirit of good ol' fashioned American democracy and with the hope that the anonymity will allow you to be honest, Anne and I would LOVE it if you voted on your favorite features of the blog. You don't have to choose just one, so vote for all the features you like, and please leave a comment if you have a great idea for a new feature. We are very for the people, by the people here at Anne & May.

Thanks for making this an awesome place to hang out.

May

This Week in God

2008-04-17T17:30:00.000-07:00

This week in New York, everyone was busy wondering: Is the Pope here yet? When is he coming again? Has he left and gone already? Is that why there are so many cops around? Does anyone know?

I’m pleased to report, he did indeed arrive in our fair country, and is scheduled to appear in New York tomorrow. I know I’m planning on ditching work to line the streets and wait for a glimpse of The Popemobile. I mean the Pope.

In related news, there are fewer people in line for the priesthood these days . All kinds of funny jokes are running through my head, but in the interest of keeping things clean and non-offensive, I’m just going to say, well go figure.

In other news, Ben Stein’s new movie Expelled comes out this week, taking on Intelligent Design. No matter where you stand on this issue, the movie looks intriguing.

I will never look at Ferris Bueller’s Day Off the same way again.

Oh, and if you’re going to pray on a plane? Try to do it in your seat, or you might find yourself no longer on said plane, like this guy . I mean, you kind of see his point. Once he starts praying, he can’t stop. I get that way sometimes. You get so excited you just can’t hide it.

Happy Passover, everyone!

Sex and the Soul

2008-04-16T18:28:00.000-07:00

Apparently it’s theme week here at GGLHQEC. Earlier this week I blogged about a fantastic new book about sex and spirituality, and today I’m posting about… a fantastic new book about sex and spirituality.

Now, it’s not like I only read books about this stuff. It just kind of happened that two really great books touching on similar themes came out at the same time.

Sexless in the City was a memoir, but Sex and the Soul is… well, it’s technically an academic book, really. It’s put out by an academic press by a religion scholar, but I have to say, it’s the only academic book I’ve ever read that reads like a novel. A really good novel.

Donna Freitas went around to lots of college campuses and talked to students about how thy feel about sex and spirituality—and especially, about the how the two intersect. She talked to students at both evangelical college and “spiritual” colleges (ie, everywhere else), and shares what she learned in this really fascinating book. This article will give you a taste of it. She talks about purity rings and Pimps and Hoes parties (am I allowed to say those words here???) and Joshua Harris and pressure and mistakes and grace, and comes to some really interesting and surprising conclusions.

Oh, and the foreword is by the always marvelous Lauren Winner, author of Real Sex, among other things. Though the book is mostly focused on how sexuality and spirituality play out on college campuses, it has really interesting ramifications for how society deals with these topics. Check it out!

Safeway, You're on Notice

2008-04-15T21:59:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, the last thread of my sanity snapped in the middle of Safeway, holding a squishy avocado. Safeway is a big chain of grocery stores in California, and it's no different than Publix, H.E.B., Albertson's, or Food Lion--though it's possibly a little different than Piggly Wiggly, which I'm sure sells more "shrimps" and less tofu.

Anyways, I don't know about your grocery store, but my Safeway sells the worst produce at top dollar. Really, I feel like each piece of fruit I buy is some kind of science project demonstrating how mealy an apple can be, how liquid-like an avocado can be, how angry a tasteless orange can make you. Safeway, it's hard to mess up an orange. We live in California! Incredible oranges grow in people's front yards!

So like Scarlett O'Hara, I held up that horrid avocado and said, "As God as my witness, I'll never be hungry again!"

That's when I started doing research on CSAs, or community supported agriculture. Basically, this is a subscription thing where you get a box of fruit and veggies from a conglomerate of local farms. I had looked into it in New York, but that was several years ago and the programs I found were just starting up and didn't work for me. For instance, each box fed a family of five for a week! I don't mind eating healthily, but there's just one of me. Plus, you had to pick up the box in the middle of the day--something this working girl found hilariously impractical.

But I'm here to report that CSAs have come a long way, baby (lettuce). In just a few minutes on the Internet, I found a CSA that delivers all sizes of boxes as often or as seldom as you like. DELIVERS. Plus, I recently figured out how to set my apartment keypad to ring my cell phone so I can buzz people into my building FROM WORK. Welcome to 2008, people. It's going to be beautiful.

And now I am so in love with my CSA that I might as well just sign up to be a full-time apostle for it. I went with the small box, delivered every other week, and I look forward to my little shipment like it's Christmas. Plus, so far the produce has been amazing. Tender greens, luscious D'Anjou pears, crazy-delicious carrots, and more.

And the best part is, now I'm eating what's in season without even trying and supporting family farmers in my area. Plus, I'm here to report that I think I'm actually saving money!

So if you live in San Francisco, I highly recommend Farm Fresh to You, and most big cities now have fledging programs of their own. Check into it and your stomach, your wallet, and your sanity will thank you.

--May

PS On the menu this week is tender baby salad greens, roasted carrots and asparagus, chicken with fresh rosemary, and lots and lots of pistachios!

The Outfit That Turns on You

2008-04-14T22:02:00.001-07:00

A few years ago, I was in the bathroom at work with a woman I hardly knew and we shared one of those great moments of being a woman. You know what I mean, when you and a stranger look across the aisle of the grocery store, the pews at church, or the row of treadmills and share a laugh, or a word of wisdom or two.

We were both sort of warily studying our outfits, our hair, our makeup in the mirror when she turned to me and said, "Have you ever had one of those days when your outfit just turns on you?"

"YES," I said, hearing her finally put into words a strange phenomenon that had been haunting me for YEARS. It was all I could do to stop myself from wrapping her in a big hug like a long lost friend.

Today, was one of those days. I put on this skirt. Now, look, I know it's close to being a little too short for work. But it's well below my fingertips, not a mini-skirt at all, and I figured that I could wear black tights and knee-high boots just in case. That way, I wouldn't be showing a square inch of skin. Plus, this skirt is so cute and I'm out of brilliant outfit ideas at the moment.

I put the whole getup on, and it seemed cute, demure, and just the thing this bleak Monday called for...until I stepped outside. After an 80-degree weekend, the moody San Francisco weather had snapped back to 100-mile-hour winds, Chihuahuas blowing down the street, and bone-chilling temperatures.

No time to change, I forged on. Then at lunch, checking myself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom at work, I realized it had happened again. Ack! My outfit has turned on me. I looked slightly sloppy to be sure, but was it also true, as the mirror seemed to be suggesting, that I also looked, um, a little accidentally trampy?

But then I remembered my little moment with that stranger so long ago and felt better. Maybe this doesn't happen to you, but it happens to me and it happened to her too. And for some reason knowing this makes those days a little better.

--May

Guest Blog: Sexless in the City

2008-04-14T04:30:00.000-07:00

Hi there. I'm Anna Broadway. I'm not sure if we've met before, but I'm a friend of Anne and May's and one of their Congregation even. Because my new book, Sexless in the City, debuts on Tuesday, they asked up me to stand up and share a brief testimony — I mean, to guest blog.

The book is a memoir of reluctant chastity that chronicles my journey through three seasons: The Innocent (a homeschooled girl who pined a lot with copious Etta James in the background), The Bawd (or how I became well-versed in both the Bible and burlesque, as well as the pitfalls of using Craigslist to find dates) and The Pilgrim (in which I gradually falter back to trusting God with my love life, whether come marriage or spinsterhood).

It's not exactly a tale of squeaky-clean chastity, but neither is it an endorsement of much of the "technical" obedience I've been guilty of. And with love interests and suitors with names like Hippie the Groper, the Harvard Lickwit, 5 Percent Man and the Captain, it's not exactly Elisabeth Elliot either (wise and courageous though she is).

With the release set for Tuesday, I like to think buying Sexless should be the least-taxing part of your day (heh-heh-heh). If said return has really set you back a bit, though, there's still time for you to enter to win one of five signed copies I'm giving away. Participation is simple:

1. Mention the book in a blog post* (ideally with a link to a store where folks can pre-order: Amazon and Barnes & Noble have it, for starters, with pre-order discounts till Tuesday).
2. Email me a link to the post, and you'll be entered to win one of five free copies!

Winners selected April 15, the day the book comes out. NOTE: Entrants who also mention and link to the book soundtrack on iTunes will get an extra entry (only one prize per entrant, however).

--Anna Broadway

ANNE HERE: I can't recommend this book enough. I picked it up just to read the first couple pages to get a sense of it, and I couldn't put it down. It's a refreshingly honest look at the struggle for love (and, reluctantly, obedience) in the big city. Anna's also totally wacky and really freakin' smart, and her voice is just captivating. Please check it out!

This Week in God

2008-04-10T19:55:00.000-07:00

The pews produced lots of news this week, faithful readers. Check out the headlines from on high.

First up, a controversy erupted in that hotbed of sinful activity San Fran...kidding! In Reedsburg, Wisconsin. You know, REEDSBURG, home to, um, sharp cheddar?

Let's just see what the Visitor's Bureau has to say for itself: Reedsburg is located only minutes away from the most exciting attractions in the nation, such as Wisconsin Dells, Circus World Museum, Devil's Lake, the House on the Rock and the American Players Theatre. THERE! You saw it for yourself. Devil's Lake!

Anyways this week Pineview Elementary in Reedsburg made headlines with their annual Wacky Week. Each year during Wacky Week kids get to dress up in silly ways, but this year the last day of Wacky Week was Dress Like the Opposite Gender Day. Well, when Voice of Christian Youth America found out, they were all over this. They accused the school of promoting an "alternative lifestyle" and caused a big stink in the area.

Up next, we have Gideon--and no, I don't mean the youngest brother in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. As anyone who has ever had insomnia in a U.S. hotel room can you tell you, you can pretty much depend on a nice King James Version of the Bible in the bedside stand. The Gideons have been putting them there since Moses came down from the mount. But hotels are starting to branch out in their religious text selections, offering Buddhist, Islamic, and other tomes.

Also, if you feel a mighty spiritual wind a blowin' through the nation this Tuesday (April 15th), it's because two of the world's most recognized religious leaders will be in the U.S. at the same time. The Dalai Lama has now landed in Seattle and the Pope will arrive in the U.S. on Tuesday. They're both doing six-day tours in America and only overlap on that one day. Personally, I think they're using the same publicist. How awkward!

And in other major religious leader news, the Mormon church affirmed a new president after the death of Gordon B. Hinckley. The new president is named Thomas S. Monson and he is the youngest president since the 1970s at the ripe old age of 80! And his first order of business was to encourage those who have fallen away to come back, which is awesome. Old dude, you rock.

Finally, one in ten Americans believe Barack Obama is a Muslim, which is interesting because the last time I checked, you have to be Muslim to be Muslim.

--May

Funny Christian Art Day

2008-04-09T18:41:00.000-07:00

If you’re like me, you have too many books.

And if you’re like me, you think the perfect solution to this dilemma is obvious:

We actually use these bookends in the kitchen, on the bookshelf where we keep the cookbooks (what, you don’t keep an entire bookshelf of cookbooks in your kitchen?).

I like them because, well, it’s Jesus. But it’s also Mary. We don’t have a lot of Mary around our place, and once in a while it’s nice to give a shout-out to the mother of God. But what I love about these is that apparently they’re both asleep. Why are their eyes closed?

Also, check out Jesus’ hair. I think Jesus might actually be a member of an eighties hair band.

Wayne got these beautiful specimens from a friend before I knew him, but they are, in fact, what made me fall in love with him. Well, that and his cooking. But mostly this.

Just for context, I’ll point out that in this lovely photo we also have the cheap lamp we got from Target because it was shiny silver. We didn’t like the shade that came with it, so we bought a new one, and we know it doesn’t quite look right, but it’s shiny silver, so what are you going to do? And on the other side is a clock we got from IKEA. It’s never worked, but we like the way it looks, so we leave it there. On the upside, it’s always 10:23, which means I never stay up too late.

Wedding Talk

2008-04-08T21:25:00.000-07:00

This weekend my family had brunch with his family--the second time they've ever met. I was slightly nervous but it went just fine. But just as we were saying goodbye to each other, my fiance pointed out that my mom and his mom were hugging each other and crying.

At first I was worried someone in my family might have said something a little too wacky. For instance recently my grandma had a bad scare and now she's in physical therapy and so we like to jokingly say that grandma is in rehab like Britney. We laugh through our pain, people. Anyways, it seems as though the moms were just crying in joy about the wedding. It was very touching.

This had an odd effect on me and since then I've been thinking about how everything will change after the big day. Then, Anne's post yesterday mentioned that she checks all purchases with Wayne and that sort of took me by surprise. Are we going to do that? Should we talk about that? What else haven't we discussed?! Ack!

But then I calmed down when I remembered all of you. You guys know all kinds of stuff like this. So my question for you is: what should we just get out in the open right now and talk about?

Please feel free to answer even if you're not married or engaged. Have you learned something from your parents? Your friends? Past relationships? Just lay 'em on me. I'd like to prepare as best we can.

You guys rule! Thanks!

May

Sound Off: How often do you treat yourself?

2008-04-07T18:39:00.000-07:00

Last week was a really crazy week for me, and then I wrote pretty much all weekend, and by the end of it, I was pooped. Not only that, I carried my laptop back and forth to work last week, along with a heavy bag, and my back was all out of whack. (I’m a poet and I just don’t know it). So this morning I decided to treat myself and get a massage after work.

Now, unless someone else is paying for the massage (hint, hint), I go to this ghetto place where it’s insanely cheap and you don’t need an appointment. No fluffy robes or lemon water here, but they do a really good job working out the kinks. Wayne said he didn’t mind (I don’t ask permission, but I also try not to spend money on frivolous things for myself without making sure he’s ok with it, because I get annoyed when he spends money on frivolous things for himself), and so I was all set to go, until five o’clock rolled around. Then I started thinking about how much other stuff I had to do, like mop the floor and answer emails and think abut dinner and how much reading I had to do for work, and I decided I didn’t have time for a massage.

As I was walking to the subway, though, I realized not having time to do something nice for myself should be a sign that something is wrong. Plus, I had no real plans and Wayne’s blessing to spend the money selfishly. But there was still all this work to do.

I was kind of caught in a quandary and I couldn’t figure out if I should do it or not. On the one hand, I thought I should save the money and the time and just go home and get to work. There are much better uses for that money. And I couldn't deny that I am squarely in the blessed category to even be faced with making a decision like that. On the other hand, I kind of felt like if I don’t have time for a massage, I probably really need one.

In the end, I convinced myself to go. Once I was there I was glad I went, but it made me wonder about how we make decisions about this kind of thing. It’s not just spa treatments, either. I walk past a Starbucks on the way to work every day, but if I stopped in every day, I’d be twenty pounds heavier and broke. But every once in a while, it’s so nice to get a steaming latte in the morning. The problem is, every day I have to talk myself out of letting this be the one day I get to be nice to myself. I only pay $12 for a pedicure, but I still wait way longer than I should in between trips to the salon (salon is a generous term for this place, but whatever) because it’s still $12, and sometimes it’s hard to justify spending that money for something I could do myself.

How do you guys make decisions about this? How often do you indulge? Those of you with kids, I’m particularly interested to hear how you decide on this stuff because moms are notorious for always putting their kids first. When do you decide to be responsible and save the money, and when do you decide it’s ok to treat yourself?

Where Has May Been?

2008-04-06T22:35:00.001-07:00

I don't think it's any big secret that May Vanderbilt is her own brand of crazy. I mean, really. You can't be surprised at this point.

But if you've noticed I haven't been answering your emails or chatting with you in the comments section it's because last week I went to Denver with my company and then my entire family came to San Francisco. It's really been a whirlwind six days. In fact as you read this I'm playing hooky from work and biking in the wine country.

In Denver I was basically in meetings all day but one night we went out to Red Rocks amphitheater at sunset and had cocktails. Look at this! Amazing!

Then, I raced back to greet my family. Here's the "fun-tinerary" I sent them last week. Um, seriously. I do this for almost everyone that visits.

Hi Family,

Your peppy tour director here. Are you ready to have a gggggrrreeeaaatttt time in Frisco? Pump it up! Get those hands in the air!!! I thought I'd send you guys your fun-tastic itinerary.

Saturday: Mom and Dad arrive. After we get them checked into the hotel, I'll be hosting Game Night. On the menu:

Homemade Mac N Cheese
Michael Mina's Pulled Pork Sandwiches
Bush's Baked Beans
From-Scratch Margaritas

The big event this night will be Trivial Pursuit. Please remember not to antagonize my high-strung dog.

Sunday: Rise and Shine, campers! We have brunch reservations at a restaurant that overlooks the bay in Fisherman's Wharf. We'll be meeting my future in-laws there and taking the cable car over.

After brunch, it's time for the Duck Tour of San Francisco. Then, we'll have a little free time to get chocolate sundaes a Ghirardelli, shop at the Ferry Plaza, stroll the city, and more.

Monday: Ever heard that phrase, go out with a bang? And how. Your last day in San Francisco promises to be the very best. First I'm waking up very early to go and get our rental minivan from the airport. Then, I'll pick up everyone and off we go to Sonoma, otherwise known as the better wine valley.

In Sonoma we will bike the rolling hills of the wine country, stopping at country stores for sandwiches and of course at a winery or two for free tastings! Our bikes have carriers on the back for those who want to purchase a few bottles.

Who's excited? YOU ARE!!! And remember if you don't like something, the very best way to show me that is to smile twice as much!

Here's a picture of the troops. So I'll catch up with you guys very soon.

--May

PS Feel free to use this itinerary yourselves. It's worked out very well. And that's my sister's boyfriend. My fiance is taking the picture.

This Week in God

2008-04-03T15:58:00.000-07:00

This week in God, there was a lot of news about God.

Yale University, tired of teaching the classics, is now offering what has to be the coolest class ever offered at an Ivy League School: Harry Potter and Christianity . According to sources, martini-drinking, argyle-sweater-vest clad students all over campus let out a collective cheer at the announcement, then went back to looking very serious and talking about Proust. According to this article, “The course uses all seven Potter books and the students will examine Christian themes such as sin, evil and resurrection.” All I can say is, how do I sign up?

This article looks at what happens to religious artifacts (stained glass windows, statues, paintings, etc.) when a church closes, and how they some are being picked up and reused by other churches. How very eco-conscious (and cool) of them. The slide show is pretty cool—check it out.

The Pope is coming! The Pope is coming! The New York Times takes this as an opportunity to do some meta-reporting on how media covers the Pope’s visits.

A Russian cult that had been hiding out while they waited for the Apocalypse came out of their bunker this week. Yes, you read that right. According to Rueters, “Fourteen members of a Russian doomsday cult on Tuesday abandoned the remote underground bunker where they had been hiding for nearly half a year awaiting the end of the world.” So, yeah. Apparently they’ve been hanging out in a bunker, waiting for the rest of us to be vaporized, praying for a sign that it was safe to come out, since October. But here’s my favorite part: “They reject processed food and say bar codes on products are the work of Satan.” I mean, I can’t totally disagree with them here.

USA Today has an interesting look at how God is talked about on college campuses. The impetus for the piece is Dan Merchant’s book and movie, Lord, Save Us From Your Followers. Check it out:

And Miley Cyrus, beloved by millions of screaming kids across the world and, um, us, made headlines this week with her acceptance speech at Nickelodeon’s Kids’ Choice Awards. Miley apparently thanked "my lord and savior Jesus Christ." That’s pretty cool. The other highlight of the event, was, apparently, when “German supermodel Heidi Klum was hoisted through the air on a cable, and had to pop balloons with spikes attached to the derriere of her jumpsuit.” Um, maybe it makes me a horrible person, but I don’t know which I would pay more to see: a young pop star thanking Jesus and appearing to mean it, or Heidi Klum popping balloons with her butt. I mean, on the one hand, Jesus. But then, Heidi Klum popping balloons with her butt. It’s a tough call.

And on that note, have a good weekend.

Funny Christian Art Day

2008-04-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

You want to see something trippy?

It’s the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

No, it’s an angel, waving madly at two children who are about to run into a lake.

Jesus!

Lake!

Jesus!

Lake!

Less filling!

Tastes great!

I suppose, like most things in life, it depends on how you look at it.

I like to look at it and laugh.

Wayne and I were looking at this picture the other day and got a little fraked out when we saw this:

An airplane, crashing into the lake. Huh? But then we backed up and figured out it probably wasn’t a secret message from Satan/terrorists/the angel of death there in the background (who is suspicious reminiscent of Glinda, the good witch) and was actually most likely supposed to be a toy airplane thrown by the children. But still it freaked us out a little bit. And check out the dog there in the other corner.

Now, I have no idea why these two images were juxtaposed. I suppose you could make all kinds of insightful comments about Jesus’ blood protecting us like the angel or something. And you could go into the theology of angels and their presence in our world. You could. Please I think it just looks kind of cool. How about you?

Sound Off: Why Aren't All Lives Equally Hard?

2008-04-01T18:27:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, I finally found a few hours to watch the movie La Vie en Rose. This is a French biopic about famed cabaret singer Edith Piaf that gained notoriety when Marion Cotillard took home the Oscar for Best Actress. Plus, I've been listening to Piaf's music since I came down with francophilia.

Anyways, as I watched Piaf's horrible life enfold, I began to keep a running tally in my head of tragic events that happened to her:

1) Born into poverty
2) Neglected, and eventually abandoned by mother
3) Deserted by father...
4) who then leaves her to be raised in a BROTHEL by her grandmother, a stern madam
5) Goes blind for five years, while living at brothel
6) Reclaimed by father and forced to join the circus with him
7) Father leaves circus and forces her to sing in the streets for money
8) Homeless as a young adult, she's eventually taken in by her boyfriend, who is a pimp. She pays a commission to him so he WON'T force her into prostitution
9) Gets discovered by a kindly cabaret owner and things are fine until...he is murdered and she is accused of doing it.
10) Meets a man who she decides is the love of her life, but he's married.
11) He eventually dies in a plane crash while coming to see her.
12) She becomes addicted to drugs to deal with her loss.
13) Gets liver cancer and slowly wastes away, dying in her forties.

Granted it was a French film and they really aren't afraid of going bleak, but still! I even confirmed these events online.

Growing up people at church always explained how burdens were doled out with the time-worn chestnut: God only gives you what you can take. But now that I'm older, this feels too simplistic. Trust me, by the looks of this movie, this was WAY more than Edith Piaf could take.

I'm sure we all know someone like Edith, someone who just seems to take one hit after another, and if you believe in God, this is hard to understand. Does God not try to keep it fair? Does he not interfere in lives?

What do you think?

--May

Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think?

2008-03-31T16:38:00.000-07:00

It’s like rain on your wedding day. It’s a free ride when you’ve already paid. It’s the good advice that you just didn’t take…

Ok, wait, no. I will always love you Alanis, for getting slimed with such aplomb, as well as for making us all laugh by dating Dave Coulier, but I’m talking about things that actually are ironic here. Namely, the pairing of these two articles in the New York Times this weekend.

Point: The New York Times looks at abstinence clubs, a rising phenomenon at Ivy League schools. These are secular clubs, at secular schools, that promote the idea (and, we assume, the practice) of abstinence before marriage.

Counterpoint: Officially announced as the Oddest Book Title of the Year: If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs by Big Boom. (Runners-up were I Was Tortured by the Pygmy Love Queen and Cheese Problems Solved.) (That photo above is of me solving cheese problems, FYI.)

I mean… I just… Wow. The article about abstinence clubs is actually really interesting, (as, I assume, is Mr. Boom’s manifesto) and I’d be interested to see what you all think about it. Or about Dave Coulier.

Miss Clean

2008-03-30T19:33:00.000-07:00

In my little world, when the going gets tough, the tough get scrubbing. While I reject the stereotype of the 1950s-style woman, running around the house with some mystery solution of vinegar, water, and love, polishing up every corner of her house, I, um, sometimes fit it to a T. Well, usually when I'm stressed out.

When my life is calm, when I have plenty of time to clean my apartment, when I'm happy and all is right with the world, I couldn't be bothered to even pick up dirty socks off the floor. I can positively go to rot. But when I'm working around the clock and finding it difficult to sleep through the night because of stress, THAT is when the urge to clean my apartment strikes.

I think it's some kind of innate female instinct. When I'm worrying about: How will I fix chapter four? How will I hold the wedding list to 90 people? How will I impress my boss after that blunder last week? My brain seems to say: Love, just try waxing the wooden floors and see if that helps. This is nothing that cleaning the outside of the windows couldn't fix. Darling, I'm sure you'll find the answer to all your worries when you dust BEHIND the TV.

As a visual this weekend I...

Cleaned each and every one of these slats.

I got all the dog hair off my white baseboards.

I cleared counter tops. (Look at my pretty orchid! My amazing MIL gave it to me.)

I dusted places no one even thinks to look, like here.

And then I declared to my little dog that we needed more exercise! We went on the world's longest walk and now he looks sort of broken. I'm hoping he's going to recover.

Am I the only person who does this?

--May

This Week in God

2008-03-27T19:02:00.000-07:00

Faithful readers, it’s time for another edition of This Week in God! This is the feature that we didn’t rip off from the Daily Show. Nay, it was inspired by the Daily Show, which is totally different.

This week, the Vatican ruffled feathers when the Pope baptized Italy's most prominent Muslim, Magdi Allam, during Easter services. Allam is a journalist for Corriere della Sera and outspoken critic of Muslim extremism, but some prominent Muslims questioned the motivations of the Vatican for choosing such a high-profile way of baptizing him.

No word yet if the Pope has completed the process by teaching Allam the top-secret finger-church game. You know, "Here's the church, here's the steeple, open the doors, and see all the people."

In other news, a new survey (seriously, where do all these surveys come from? I think there's just one guy in a basement making them up.) found that while 87% of U.S. adults still believe in sin, just what exactly constitutes a sin is less clear. 81% thought adultery was, but only 71% thought racism was. Meanwhile premarital sex came in at 45%, while gambling was only a measly 30%. I called my grandma, who thinks Bingo is gambling and therefore a sin, for a "react quote" but she was unavailable for comment.

Plus, in the same article the Reverend Al Mohler (famous for declaring that there is sin in being single--um, you wish I were kidding about that) completed the most sacred Christian ritual surrounding Easter: bashing the Easter Bunny. Looks like someone got stale Peeps this year.

And finally Miley Cyrus made a video with her "bestie" (of six months, thanks for asking) Mandy Jiroux where they talked about dancing, acting, and singing for Jesus. The video is very sweet and made me long for slap bracelets, scrunch socks, and poof bangs.

--May

Funny Christian Art Day

2008-03-26T17:27:00.000-07:00

Today’s funny Christian art is a departure in that it doesn’t actually feature a picture of Jesus. I know, it’s crazy, because without a picture, how will we know what Jesus looked like?

Anyway, this was given to us by our friend Tara, an amazing clothing designer who I hope I can someday afford to hire to make all my clothes. She found it among a pile of junk her mom was going to throw away when she cleaned out her attic, and knew exactly who would appreciate it.

Here is it.

It’s sweet, right? Or is it? It either has a nice message, or else a vaguely threatening one. I’m not really sure which. Jesus remembers orphans and widows when the world forgets? A-OK. Jesus remembers everything... even when everyone else has moved on? Scary.

The pink flowers make me think sweet. The rusty chain that borders the whole thing makes me think frightening.

What do you think?

I don’t know anything about Manheim Bible School either, though I do like how they illustrated the Bible to… um, illustrate what they mean by Bible. A Google search turns up no such place, but then, this piece is probably quite old, so Manheim Bible School may no longer exist. Google, helpful as always, also turned up this:

Thank you, Manheim Steamroller and whatever crazy person had this much free time on their hands.

So remember, kids: Jesus doesn't forget. Ever. You sure you want to take that cookie?

So This is What the 30s Are About

2008-03-25T20:46:00.000-07:00

I don't need Anne's decorating advice. I have a ship clock!

I spent my twenties wandering from one company to the next, asking "Are you my dream job?" It was a grueling time when I couldn't afford to have a pet ("Dog food is $12 a bag?!"), my parents routinely suggested that "I give business a try," and guys in bars tried to impress me with how FEW books they had read. My fellow twenty-something friends and I would find the cheapest beers in Manhattan and say to each other, "When does this torture stop?"

In less than a month, I will be turning 30 and a few weeks ago I think I may have figured out what the theme of my thirties will be: time management. My twenties could be summed up as the great search for who I am, how I'm going to support myself, and who I want to spend my life with. And I am pleased to say that for the most part, these questions are now answered.

But now that I have a great job, fours books under contract, a little mouth to feed (my dog), and a wedding to plan, I realize that all of these things that I dreamed of having in my 20s are ten times the responsibility and take lots, and lots, and lots of time to maintain.

And here's the biggest rub, I would get cheapish beers with my thirty-something friends to discuss this new theme--but who has that kind of time? It seems that all my friends who are darkening the door of the big 30 are suddenly working until eight o'clock, spending months in the UK for work, prepping for the big meeting with clients, or completing mountains of freelance work to make mortgage.

Plus, we're all getting married and flirting with the idea of starting families. If there's one thing my little dog has taught me, it's that anything more than a plant takes far more time and money than you could ever imagine. In short, I'm pretty sure it's all downhill from here.

So if you're a twenty-something, trust me when I tell you that this decade will be spent figuring out the big questions. But once you answer those big questions, watch out. Your 30s are about conserving the rarest commodity on earth: time.

Please if you're a forty-something or a fifty-something and know what's coming around the bend, enlighten us.

--May

Decorating With Dunces

2008-03-24T17:08:00.000-07:00

I wanted to share some decorating tips because, hey, why not? It’s [half] my blog. Why should knowing absolutely nothing about decorating (well, aside from a top-notch collection of bizarre religious art) stop me from sharing my wisdom?

So my decorating revelation is this: Everything looks better when painted shiny black.

I don’t know what happened, but recently I’ve been on this kick where I want to paint everything in my apartment in high-gloss black. It started with this vanity.

It was here when we moved it, and it used to be this blah faded wood. We never really liked it, but we’re not really at the stage where we can redo our bathroom, so we lived with it. Then one day we had a brainstorm. The walls in the bathroom are gray; why not paint this vanity black? We decided that if we did it and hated it, maybe it would motivate us to save our pennies to do a renovation.

That’s when the obsession started. We had this lamp that we didn’t really like, but it worked just fine so we couldn’t see fit to send it to a landfill. It was this boring light wood, and the shape used to seem really blah to me, but we painted it, and now I love it.

Then we got crazy and painted our chandelier (why do chandeliers seem to come up so often on this blog?). We had this old thing that I thought was really ugly and funny and that our friend the trashpicker found on the street, but after Wayne lugged it home and we hung it up, I felt like I had to explain to everyone who came in that we knew it was ugly. Now, if you have to explain that you’re being ironic, you’re probably not doing such a good job. So Wayne took it down and we slopped paint all over that sucker.

Much better.

And the other day I was staring at an old bookcase, and my eyes lit up, and that’s when I realized I had a problem. Soon, everything in my apartment is going to be shiny black. (The cats, FYI, came shiny black. I had nothing to do with that.)

So anyway, yeah. Black paint. Who knew? Of course, you have to apply paint judiciously. I used to refinish furniture for fun in high school (What? Isn’t that what you did for fun? What do you mean I had no life??) and it takes a whole lot of elbow grease and toxic chemicals to get layers of dark paint off a piece of furniture. So don’t go around slathering paint on everything you see, but I think those early experiences with paint thinner made my shy, whereas now I’m a lot bolder about making mistakes. If you hate it, you can always paint over it. I’m pretty sure there’s a metaphor about redemption to be drawn there, but I’m going to let that one go so I can go paint my toilet black.

Next time on Decorating with Dunces: What to do with those hideous curtains (besides make play clothes for Austrian children to run around the Alps and sing in).

Anyone else have any fun decorating tips?

Egg on My Face and in the Bottom of My Oven

2008-03-23T20:21:00.000-07:00

I have the world's nicest future in-laws, people who, over the past five years of dating their son, have graciously hosted me at their home for assorted meals, holidays, and functions over 100 times at the very least.

And so when my in-laws-to-be wanted to come to San Francisco for Easter services and they emailed me and asked where they could take me to brunch after church, this very ambitious bride-to-be said, "Oh! I insist that you let me host you for a change! I'll cook."

I really thought this Easter weekend would be the perfect way to show them how much I appreciate their warm hospitality, and that is what motivated me to offer to host. But once I volunteered, I started having these very "womanly" impulses that I assure you I can't explain.

I love to cook, but the rest of the 1960s domesticity routine sort of goes over my head. I can't knit or sew, I have absolutely never cared if I could eat off my floors because that's why I have plates, and I have every intention of naming my children things like Georgia and Walker Percy, instead of Dick and Jane.

And yet, suddenly I had all these dreams in my head about how I was going to wow them by being this amazing hostess in a gingham apron. Then my mind started to reel and I thought about the day when I would have a house full of children in matching clothes and I would do positively crazy things, like host the family Thanksgiving with hand-lettered place cards.

I'm sure you can see where this is going. First, I made some terrible choices, namely I decided that I should not only make a three-course meal but I should feature...a quiche with a homemade pie crust on the menu. Good golly, why don't I just rise at dawn and milk the cow myself? And so I spent three hours on Saturday cooking, and in turns spit-shining my apartment, until the big moment when I popped my gorgeous shallot, mushroom, and Gruyere quiche in the oven, and in the space of two seconds, all Donna Reed hopes were dashed.

First, I brushed the edge of the pie crust and a third of it fell into the soupy quiche. "NO!" I screamed, tears of frustration filling my eyes. But I remained calm. I reached into the oven to pull it out so I could fix it. But that's, when I sloshed the eggy mixture into the bottom of the oven. "ARGH!!!" I screamed. Finally I managed to pull out the quiche, retrieve the crust from the soupy liquid, and then slide the quiche back into the over, but pretty quickly my apartment began to fill with smoke as the bottom of my oven baked the sloshed-over egg goo. It was then that I slid onto my so-clean-you-could-eat-off-them floors and had a good old-fashioned cry.

When I served it today it was no thing of beauty, and everyone was (of course) very sweet to gush over it twice as much. But I think somewhere in there, maybe between the cheese and mushrooms, was sandwiched a good Easter lesson for me.

I can really put a lot of pressure on myself to be this idealized person I dream up from time to time. Maybe one week I dream up this accomplished and devastatingly clever writer, but then my editor says, "Oy vey, this stinks." Or maybe I think I'm going to be the very paradigm of domesticity and then my quiche looks more like roadkill.

I just need to embrace my imperfections and love those around me who overlook them.

--May

PS I hope your Easter feast turned out better than mine!

Good Friday Bonus Post

2008-03-21T13:56:00.000-07:00

Somehow the fact that it's Good Friday means I got out of work one hour early today. I didn't get the day off... just one hour off. I don't really get it, but I'm not complaining.

Anyway, getting home early meant that when I walked by the Catholic church down the block, I got to hear this amazing mournful singing that just echoed throughout the neighborhood. It was beautiful. I wanted to go in, but we're going to our church's service tonight and I have some work to get done before then, so I rushed home instead. Although now that I think about it, I'm not really sure I made the right choice there. I think I might have just demonstrated that I entirely missed the point of the holiday.

Also, I wanted to point out this genius link that reader Jennifer sent us. If you show up at this church on Easter Sunday with your Wii controller, they'll load it so you have Jesus as a character! How cool is that? Only in San Francisco...

This Week in God

2008-03-20T17:09:00.000-07:00

Faithful readers, it’s time for another edition of This Week in God! This is the feature that we didn’t rip off from the Daily Show. Nay, it was inspired by the Daily Show, which is totally different.

It's holy week, which means there's a 'hol' lotta holy news. Get it? Get it? Oh my gosh. Only two more days till coffee...

First off, on Monday we honored St. Patrick, a venerated saint renowned for all his… uh, stuff he did. Like use the shamrock as an illustration for the Trinity and hang out wee little leprechauns and drink Guinness. Ok, those last two are just speculation, but he actually did work for the church, which makes St. Patrick’s Day bona fide religion news.

Also news is the fact that Irish bishops moved the feast day of St. Patrick, patron saint of Ireland, so that it didn’t fall during Holy Week this year, in honor of the Saint. Or in honor of Jesus? I’m not really clear. In any case, the feast date was moved after much debate. Drunk college students drinking green beer in pubs were not affected.

And then the Pope, who is in fact still not dead, kicked off Easter Weekend
with a Maundy Thursday service at the Vatican. I’m not Catholic, but looking at pictures of this still makes me really happy. I love the pomp and ceremony; it confers a kind of automatic respect for meaning and tradition on this most sacred of holidays.

And speaking of Catholics… Isn’t confession a hassle? You squish yourself into a tiny little box and spill your guts to some man behind a screen who’s actually a murderer hiding out to kill you. Ok, so my only experience with the actual ritual of confession comes from bad movies. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t excited to see that you can now confess your sins online.

Today, we had the first day of spring. While the vernal equinox was eagerly anticipated by pagans everywhere, I’m just excited that winter is finally (finally!) over. I’m so sick of my winter clothes.

And this isn’t really news, but it was fun enough to link to anyway: Kicking for Christ. Ralph Macchio would be so proud.

That’s all, folks. Have a blessed Easter.

Funny Christian Art Day: Good Friday Edition

2008-03-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

That’s right, folks. It’s Holy Week, and that means a special kind of funny Christian art. Today we’re looking at images of Christ and/on the cross. Now I’ll just say at the outset that Christ on the cross is pretty much the most important moment in the Christian faith, and it’s not really funny no matter how you slice it.

BUT. That doesn’t mean it’s not portrayed and memorialized in some funny ways.

For example:

This piece was given to us just this week by our friend Laura. She came up to us before church and said she had a gift for us, and Wayne I wasted the next hour envisioning what kind of Jesus art it would be. Our expectations were not disappointed.

On the surface, it’s just a normal picture, really. Skinny white Jesus, long flowing locks, ethereal glow. Pretty much what we’ve come to expect, no? It gets extra points for the gilt edging, because shinier is always better, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Until you read what the writing actually says. Let’s get a close-up of that, shall we?

Vernon E. Nell, Home Dressed Meats and Poultry. R.D. 1 Dillsburg, PA.

I guess this was an advertisement for a butcher shop at some point. So leaving aside the whole thing about how I’m a vegetarian, I really can’t fathom why this was the right image to advertise a butcher shop. I mean, just… Yeah. Not really very pleasant.

But the best part of this piece is actually what’s on the back.

That’s a calendar from 1953. Not only does that tell us exactly when this was made, it also makes me feel cool because I have a bona fide antique.

And now for another little bit of detective work.

This picture, showing Jesus giving a Miss America wave as he goes off to Golgotha, is one of my favorites for many reasons, not the least of which is that it’s an oasis of sanity in the midst of my wall of shiny, blinking lights. But also, it was a Christmas gift from May last year, who knows my taste well. This year she got us a BeDazzler. I can’t even image how she’s going top those things this year. Anyway, please note the frame. That’s metal painted to look like wood. Al-right.

But it wasn’t until I was taking a picture of this today that I noticed something strange there on the left side. Flowers, flowers, flowers… is that woman??!

Look carefully and you’ll see her, halfway down or so. She's right at the edge of the frame, wearing red and green. What is she doing there?? Obviously, I had to find out, so I took the frame off the picture and discovered that the picture of Jesus was originally only part of whole piece. Here’s what it looks like without the frame:

If you look closely, you can see the Twelve Stations of the Cross! [Ed note: PEOPLE! Why didn't you tell me there are 14 Stations of the Cross! I forgot about the last two!] Well, it’s parts of about five stations of the cross, but you get the idea. It’s so perfectly appropriate for the Good Friday entry it's like I planned it or something, only I’m actually not nearly that organized.

But it delights me for another reason, too. Someone actually cut this central image out of a poster of the Twelve Stations of the Cross, decided they wanted to get more life out of this stellar frame, and made an entirely new piece. The piece is not just defined by what it was created like, it’s also shaped by what the people who interacted with it later did. Someone took an act of faith and made it their own. I mean, that’s kind of what Good Friday is about, right?

And then they sold it on eBay, which totally ruins the metaphor, but does mean I get a freakin’ sweet piece of Jesus art to hang on my wall.

Have a Happy Easter, everyone. And remember, always look on the bright side of life.

Color Me Crazy

2008-03-18T20:44:00.000-07:00

Seriously, I wear this dress on a regular basis...to work...over jeans.

Lately, this is how my conversations go.

Oh you're getting married in November? How exciting! What are your colors?

(May gives a blank look) Well...um...we don't have a color scheme.

Then usually the record at the party skips and everyone turns to gawk. The thing is, I don't mind color schemes. A friend just showed me the invitations, place cards, and Save the Date cards for an entire wedding with a green and pink color scheme that actually, improbably looked...pretty nice. Not at all like an Easter egg (as you might be thinking). And I've been to many a wedding where I loved the color scheme.

But for some reason I have in my mind that it might be kind of cool to do a wedding without a color scheme. I envision a sort of rustic Italian wedding (like in some kind of Hollywood movie about Tuscany in the 1930s or something) where people wear vibrant clothes and there is much merrymaking and very little...coordinated clothing.

Plus, how does one even come up with a color scheme??? When I lived in Brooklyn, I painted an entire wall of my bedroom brown with pink stripes. It was an accent wall. The others were white. Clearly I am not the kind of person who is qualified to pick out a color scheme for an entire wedding. Seriously, if you guys could see me at work every day this would really be brought home. On a good day you might say I dressed eclectically. On a bad day, eccentrically.

When people hear that I'm not choosing a color scheme for the wedding, the questions come quicker than if I had said that I still believe in the Easter Bunny. What will your bridesmaids wear? How will you know what kind of flowers to get? What about your invitations? What about world peace? It depends on this!

In fact, my poor mom has started trying to talk me into color schemes. She pitches them to me like suitable bachelors, "What about red and gold? A nice autumnal theme?" Her dilemma is that she has never been a part of a wedding without a color scheme, thus she doesn't know what to wear. My whole life, I've never really understood exactly how much hangs in the balance of this decision.

But so far I'm sticking to my guns. Maybe I'm crazy. My sister is my only bridesmaid and I've asked her to wear...something. I know I'll be wearing white. My fiance will be wearing black. And that's it. Maybe this is a horrible decision and we'll look at the pictures in 2030 and guffaw at how we all clash. Or maybe it will be like I'm picturing. I'm not sure.

And so, I turn this question over to you guys. What do you think?

A Day in the Life

2008-03-17T19:18:00.000-07:00

It’s St. Patrick’s Day. I totally forgot to wear green. When I warned my co-workers that I would punch them in they tried to pinch me, they looked at me like I was crazy. Is that not what you do to someone who’s not wearing green? You pinch them, right? Or is that some weird thing we made up as kids that no one else does?

Anyway, our friends came up from Texas to visit this weekend. It was awesome to see them, but the best part was this: they came to see Iron Maiden in concert. Iron Maiden. Huh?

Maybe if you met my friends you’d understand the confusion. She’s a youth worker at a church. He runs an internet company. They don’t seem like the heavy metal types. But it gets better. I asked my friend’s husband how he got into heavy metal. His answer? Petra. Naturally.

But they had extra tickets, and asked if we wanted to go, and what person in their right mind would say no to that? Despite not liking heavy metal or knowing anything the band or its songs, we gave an enthusiastic yes because how can you turn down an experience like seeing an eighties hair band live and in person? We thought it would be hilarious and ironic and mostly just hilarious.

It was everything you think it would be. It was loud and theatrical, and everyone around us was raising their fists and singing along and crying and yelling, and we just took it all in and enjoyed every moment.

And you know what? I actually liked it. Their music was pretty good. They even had lots of Biblical allusions and stuff. I really enjoyed it. I certainly didn’t expect that. And I bought a t-shirt.

The best part, though, was the reactions from my friends. One of my co-workers had bought tickets for this concert the day they went on sale. He’s a few years older than me, and loved “The Maiden” in the eighties. He almost fell over when I told him I was going to the concert. He said I was the person he could least imagine at such a thing, which made me know it was the right thing to be doing. You have to shake things up a little sometimes, you know? So yeah. Here’s to new experiences, even the ones that you wouldn’t necessarily repeat again.

In other news, my diploma just arrived in the mail. Some of you remember that I turned in my master’s thesis in December, and this one magical piece of paper means it’s really all done, for real. I am a master.

For the record, it’s not like it was a mail order diploma or anything, but because I’m too lazy to show my face at my graduation ceremony (which is in the nice intimate setting of Yankee Stadium), they sent it to my apartment, and our super just brought it up tonight. It was too big to fit in our mailbox. Bigger is better, so that means I’m a star.

It is bee-oo-ti-ful. Well, really, it’s just a piece of paper. There’s nothing special about it, except that it represents five long years of my life. I couldn’t be more excited if I had actually cared about the program I was in.

FYI: There are only five more days of Lent. I am dreaming of a nice steaming cup of coffee. I can almost taste it. I think I may cry when I get it. I’m pretty sure that’s not what Lent is supposed to be about. Perhaps I missed the point. But man oh man am I looking forward to that first cup of coffee.

That's all.

Can You Judge Someone by Their Church?

2008-03-16T21:30:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I'm a late-blooming political nut. And like most Americans, I don't fit neatly into any political category and so I watch debates, I read tons of articles, and in an election year, I follow the political goings-on with a faithfulness that I normally reserve for...the stars of People Magazine.

So last week, you might have heard about the kerfuffle over Barack Obama's minister, Revered Jeremiah A. Wright Jr. If you haven't, I'll catch you up. Basically his minister is prone to radical, politically charged speeches that involve curse words, anti-American sentiments, and more. Click on the link if you'd like to see some examples. I think there is no way to spin it. This man...has made some mistakes and missteps from the pulpit.

Obama then issued a statement calling the remarks "inflammatory and appalling," and then political commentators began to try to sort out how to feel about this. Some argued that one can't judge a man by his pastor. They reasoned that probably few Americans 100% agree with everything their pastors say and Obama did denounce the objectionable statements. Others felt that it was important, that by attending this church he makes a public statement saying, I agree with these sentiments.

I wondered, what do you guys think? Not about Obama, per se, we really want to keep it a politics free zone here at Big-Tent-Christianity Good Girl Lit. But what do you think about judging a person by their church's pastor or even the church's tenets? Would you want to be judged by yours?

--May

This Week in God

2008-03-13T23:00:00.000-07:00

Faithful readers, it’s time for another edition of This Week in God! This is the feature that we didn’t rip off from the Daily Show. Nay, it was inspired by the Daily Show, which is totally different.

Hot off the presses this week are, bum bum bum bum BAAAA, seven new sins! The Pope, who you could be forgiven for confusing with a rap star given his cool bling, slammin' ride (the Pope Mobile), and wicked-awesome hats, has put together a new list of modern sins. Here are the Cliffs Notes version. Just say "No" in front of each of these.

1. “Bioethical” violations such as birth control

2. “Morally dubious” experiments such as stem cell research

3. Drug abuse

4. Polluting the environment

5. Contributing to widening divide between rich and poor

6. Excessive wealth

7. Creating poverty

What's surprising about this list is that it's both old-school and new-school all at once, like knitting.

Also noted fashion photographer, I mean, religious scholar Karen Armstrong filmed a few pieces for the Washington Post. Here's the best one, where she answers a question I've always had: why do people become nuns/monks? I respect them. Definitely. But how do you decide that? She also goes into why she left the church.

Plus, Beliefnet culled together their favorite spiritual quotes from U2, confirming the 11th Commandment: Thou Shalt Be Obsessed With Men Named Bono.

In the name of love, that's the news from the pews, y'all.

--May

Funny Christian Art Day

2008-03-12T18:35:00.000-07:00

This week’s Funny Christian Art Day has a new feature.

Shiny surface? Check. Flashing lights? Check. Nonsensical repetition of imagery? Check. Oddly functional feature? Check. Jesus? Check.

But check this out:

Video!

That’s right folks, we’re busting our way right into 2002 here with this advanced technology.

Ok, so it’s lame.

This lovely piece was a Christmas gift from my brother, perhaps in retribution for the dancing doll in the shiny purple dress that sang Barbie Girl. My brother and I have a habit of giving each other bad gifts. Actually, usually, it’s the same bad gift. When he was in high school, he was getting ready to take his SATs, so being the nice sister I am I bought him a Larry Boy pencil (naturally) to take the test with, since it I thought it would make him laugh.

Six months later, the pencil was still sitting in the kitchen, unopened, so I took it back, wrapped it up, and stuck it under the Christmas tree. He gave it back for my birthday a few weeks later. I gave it to him for his birthday. He gave it to me for my college graduation. I gave it to him for being a bridesmaid in my wedding. It’s like a Fraggle Pebble. It’s been a gift about 37 times. I currently have it, as you can see by the photo. But Peter, your birthday isn’t that far away!

But I digress. Let’s get down to the serious business of making fun of stuff, shall we?

Where to begin, where to begin?

Ok, the image of Jesus there in the middle is a very famous one. That’s Jesus of the Sacred Heart. If you’re Catholic, you’re probably familiar with it. If you’re not, you’re going to become familiar with it soon, because it features prominently in our collection.

And believe it or not, I’m not going to make fun of it. I will definitely point out the way it’s been reinterpreted into ridiculousness, but this is an important image to many Catholics, and it’s just not right to make fun of something that’s not part of your tradition. It’s probably not right to make fun of things that are part of your tradition either, but even my cold dark heart has its limits. Here’s a close-up in case you want to get a good look at what I’m not mocking.

Ok, now let’s back up and get a view of the whole shebang here.

There’s the Jesus part on top, an old-fashioned clock on the bottom. There’s a shiny silver border in which you can see my hands as I took this picture.

If you look carefully behind the clock, you can see the horizon line of the ocean. I have no explanation for this.

The thing that gets me about this piece is that in addition to the one main image of Jesus of the Sacred Heart, it’s repeated, in a smaller version, four other times. Why? Why??

I've seen these same kind of pieces that feature oceans of waterfalls, but I really think Jesus is the best, don't you?

What Happened to Good Girl Lit?

2008-03-11T21:53:00.001-07:00

Lock up your internets. These girls are on the loose.

Some of you might have noticed that our website disappeared. Well, it didn't actually disappear so much as it was STOLEN. Okay, well, that's not quite right either. Basically, Anne and I aren't so good with the information super highway, and we forgot to renew our website's domain name. It is now taken by what is lovingly referred to in the industry as a "squatter." Ew.

So, sorry about the bad links. Don't worry. A flashy new site and more is coming soon. Stay tuned. And seriously don't let us touch your computers.

--May

Moral Crusaders Gone Awry

2008-03-11T20:57:00.000-07:00

Well, unless you've been buried under a rock, you've probably heard by now about Eliot Spitzer's involvement in a high-end prostitution ring. Like many of you, I'm sure, I feel really ill and confused by the whole thing.

First and foremost, I'm saddened. Spitzer has a wife and three daughters and the damage he did is probably irreparable. I actually had a friend in college whose dad had an affair that made it into the local papers. His family ended up moving across the country to escape the shame and try to start again. His stories about it haunt me.

But more than feeling sad, I'm totally baffled. Why is it that the most outspoken "moral" crusaders are always the ones with the biggest secrets to hide? Ted Haggard, Larry Craig, Mark Foley, Jim Bakker...there are too many to count. (And gosh, there must be a female example, though none comes to mind.)

Do you think, as my mom suggested on the phone tonight, that the power just corrupts them over time and they lose their way? I argued that it all goes back to my priest's amazing rule of thumb: you spot it, you got it. Maybe they hate their own sins so much that they chase them down in others as a weird way to punish themselves. Or maybe I've been reading too much pop psychology?

--May

Communion Faux Pas?

2008-03-10T10:36:00.000-07:00

I’ve mentioned here before that at my church, we do communion every week. It’s not that big of a church, so we all troop up the aisle to the front of the church to get communion, and it’s kind of nice. The only part I don’t like (except for the other things I’ve complained about here and here )is that you have to be in front of everybody for what feels like a private moment. People aren’t watching you or anything, except voyeurs like me, but you're still standing there in front of the church, and I really don’t like to be in front of a large group of people.

This is the main reason that whenever someone asks me if I want to serve communion, I say no. Wayne and I get hit up fairly frequently, because Wayne is a good guy and will always go out of his way to help people. He’s glad to serve.

Me? Not so much. I always fee like such a heathen telling our friends that no, I won’t help serve the sacrament to my brothers and sisters, because, well, I don’t want to. And yet… I really don’t want to. Surely serving grudgingly would be worse than not serving at all, right?

In my old church, they said all members had to serve communion. I pretty much just ignored this rule and said I wouldn’t do it, because what are they going to do about it? They couldn't force me to, and they knew it, so no one really bugged me.

And to be honest, no one is really bugging me about it now except that I can’t get over feeling like a heel every time someone asks if I can help out. It’s not as bad as saying, No I won’t pray for you because I'm just too lazy, but sometimes it feels like approximately the same thing.

So my question is, what do I do about it? Should I give in and serve communion? Or is it ok if there are some things that aren’t your thing in the church?

Camy Tang's Guest Blog

2008-03-09T22:00:00.000-07:00

Please join us in welcoming Camy Tang to our blog. She's currently out there pounding the internets for her new book, Only Uni. Leave a comment below to enter a drawing to a win a copy of her book.

Lately, I have been on a total Jane Austen kick.

And I mean TOTAL. I have reread Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, and Northanger Abbey. I also read A Walk with Jane Austen, which is more like a memoir or travelogue than a biography about Jane Austen, but it was still a good read.

I’ve also watched P&P (BBC miniseries) and Persuasion (Ciaran Hinds) and S&S (Emma Thompson) on DVD. Oh, and I TiVo’d the Jane Austen movies played on Masterpiece Classic on Sunday nights.

Can you say, OBSESSED???

I don’t know why Jane has gotten hold of me lately. Her books never fail to inspire me to romantic heights, which makes my own writing quite flamboyant. For me, hers are the epitome of the truly satisfying romance novel.

But my love of all things Austen does not explain my current compulsion to reread familiar pages when I really ought to be reading more contemporary stuff … like other chick lit authors. Oy!

Oh wait, I did read something contemporary—Adam by Ted Dekker, which scared the crap out of me and made me run screaming back to Mansfield Park. There’s nothing like Aunt Norris’s officiousness to make my world normal again.

My husband, Captain Caffeine, does not understand my actions and has taken to giving me strange looks, usually at night when we’re watching TV.

I grab the remote. “Are you done watching SportsCenter?”

He gives me the look. “Why?” It’s 11:05 and he has enjoyed exactly 5 minutes of ESPN.

“I want to watch Masterpiece Classic. They’re showing Miss Austen Regrets tonight.”

This is the signal for him to grab his laptop and surf while he makes a token effort to appear to be present in the room. Thus, we spend our “quality time” together.

And while I do think he’s the most wonderful man on earth, I also have to tell you that I let him TiVo his mixed martial arts shows ALL THE TIME. It’s payback, baby!

Well, but I still haven’t figured out my Jane Austen fixation. I think I’ll go read Persuasion.

Camy Tang is the loud Asian chick who writes loud Asian chick lit. She used to be a biologist, but now she is a staff worker for her church youth group and leads a worship team for Sunday service. She also runs the Story Sensei fiction critique service. On her blog, she gives away Christian novels every Monday and Thursday, and she ponders frivolous things like dumb dogs (namely, hers), coffee-geek husbands (no resemblance to her own...), the writing journey, Asiana, and anything else that comes to mind. Visit her website at http://www.camytang.com/ for a huge website contest going on right now, giving away five boxes of books and 25 copies of her latest release, ONLY UNI.

This Week in God

2008-03-06T17:51:00.000-08:00

Faithful readers, it’s time for another edition of This Week in God! This is the feature that we didn’t rip off from the Daily Show. Nay, it was inspired by the Daily Show! It’s totally different.

This week we learned that Christians don’t always go to church. According to a survey that was apparently a complete waste of money, not every one of us goes every week. I know. I’m sure you’re as shocked as I am. But wait, get this: people DO often go to church on Christmas and Easter. “The study hinted that people are more likely to attend church during religious holidays, such as Christmas or Easter.” The survey also discovered that the sky is blue and showed conclusively that the sun does not actually revolve around the earth.

Apparently the Sabbath is the new black. Mark Bittman of The New York Times takes on a “Secular Sabbath,” a trend of people taking 24 whole grueling hours per week without phones or email. It actually sounds ideal to me. It would be like taking a whole day and not working, resting, and focusing on something bigger than yourself. Huh. Maybe I’ll have to give this Sabbath stuff a try.

Paris Hilton has apparently traded in Tinkerbell for another small, wrinkled companion. The hotel heiress and her new guru have been seen all over Hollywood, doing enlightened things like drinking coffee and reading. Ever since word got out that Paris had one, personal gurus have been hopelessly backordered, FYI.

In other fashion news, Vikings apparently dressed cooler before Christians came along . According to this highly reputable source I found online and never heard of before, “Viking women dressed with the intention of being provocative, using long trains, metallic breast coverings, and colored-silk gowns…. When Christianity came, the dress was more like that of nuns.” According to my research, once Christians came along, Viking women were also lectured repeatedly about modesty and traded in designer jeans and sexy shoes for long flowered skirts and sandals with nylons.

And this just in: those pesky Ten Commandments? They were actually the product of psychedelic drugs. According to this amazing story, passed on by blessed reader Natalie, Moses’ little episode there on Mount Sinai was actually nothing more than a bad trip. Thank goodness. That whole “Do Not Murder” thing was freaking me out. No word yet on whether narcotics were involved in Jesus’ stunt with the loaves and fishes or his so-called “miraculous resurrection.”

Well, there you go, folks. That’s all the news that’s fit to print that I bothered to include. Have a good weekend, and if you see some guy with stone tablets, a flowing beard, a Grateful Dead t-shirt, and a hackey sack, just pay him no mind.

Funny Christian Art Day

2008-03-05T17:21:00.001-08:00

The past two weeks for Funny Christian Art Day, I’ve looked at a series of different representations of the same image. But I can’t do that today, because there’s just nothing like this out there. Check out this awesome piece of awesomeness:

That’s Jesus. Bleeding. Sculpturally. Surrounded by colored lights and gold tinsel. Here’s what it looks like when you plug it in.

It kind of looks like it's on fire, which would normally terrify me, but delights me here. Please note that these lights blink on and off in interesting patterns, like a string of cheap Christmas lights.

Now, it’s no secret that I like things that are shiny. If it’s got bling, I want it (in an ironic way of course). And this thing definitely has bling. It’s got two levels of bling! Does it get better than that?

Here’s a close-up. Please note the blue eyes and the light hair. It also looks like his hair is a little spiky here, like he’s stuck in 1999.

I have no idea where it came from originally, but we got this from Wayne’s friend. This friend used to live in the biggest apartment I’ve ever seen in New York. The only problem was, there was no subway that went near there. It was over a chicken processing plant. And it had no heat. And the ceiling was cardboard and had a bunch of holes. But aside from all that, it was a really great place, and they used to love having people over for parties and such.

This guy had a serious gift for finding amazing stuff in the trash. One time he found this doll dressed in a shiny purple plastic dress that would walk (or, really, dance) along in a straight line until it got to the edge of a table, them it would somehow know to turn itself. It danced along to a tinny version of “Barbie Girl.”

Anyway, aside from his amazing gift for trash-picking, this friend was also one of the most generous people I know. One time I complemented his chandelier (also found in the trash), and he gave it to us. It hangs over my dining room table. He also gave us the dancing doll, which I promptly regifted to my brother for his 24th birthday. But the best thing he ever gave us was this piece of amazing Jesus art. One time I mentioned I liked it, and then Wayne came home with it.

And here’s where I draw the obvious connection. Didn’t Jesus say that if someone wants your cloak, you’re supposed to give him your tunic as well? Maybe that’s not quite how he meant it, but he did say give to the needy, or be generous. This friend has always given generously of his trash, and I really do think that’s what Jesus would do, don’t you?

Sound Off: Showing the Church the Door

2008-03-04T20:19:00.000-08:00

I've had my share of bad breakups--slamming down the phone, storming off and driving away, saying things that you'll regret later...or not. But breaking up with a church is something else entirely.

Late last night, poking around on the Relevant message boards, I came across the site, Letters From Leavers. It was started by Fuller Seminary students, Tim Bower and Jason Loftis, and it's a place for people to post letters (either sent or unsent) about leaving the church. Some address the church or pastor directly for a grievance. Others describe little more than a gradual falling away. And the truth is, I can't stop reading them.

I could defend my reading of them by making the argument that its important that we know why people leave. But the truth is I find myself sort of wanting to write one. You see, I had a major falling out with my youth pastor when I was in college. At the time, I was really too young to process what I saw as his rejection of me. If the same thing were to happen today, I wouldn't be afraid to stand my ground and tell him what I really think. But back then, he was someone I really looked up to, and so instead of saying my peace and hashing out our differences, I just sort of faded away, and for a few years there, I didn't attend church at all.

Maybe Letters From Leavers presents a good way to achieve catharsis. So often something unfortunate happens at church and members disappear. At times, open dialog feels utterly impossible.

But I'm still here. Luckily after my bad experience in college, I eventually found a new church and an amazing pastor who restored my faith in the church. And now I've found my beloved Grace Cathedral where I feel free to be me. But a small, unhealed part of me sort of wants to finally put into writing my official Dear John letter to my old youth pastor.

What about you? Ever had a church breakup? Was it good? Bad?

--May