Ahhh, There's Nothing Like a . . .

. . . tax refund on a rainy day! I have been staring at my computer all day, enjoying rare view of six digits against the backdrop of my online banking screen. (That would be six digits and a decimal point, of course.) I'm savoring the moment while it lasts because tomorrow they will be gone. On the plus side, I will be doing away with almost all my remaining credit card debt, and that's a good feeling. Now if only I could do the same with all those tuition loans . . .

The Final Tally
Voting has been winding down, leaving us with the current score of

Just Call Him! 11 (6 online; 2 e-mails; 3 in person)
Don't Do It! 4 (3 online; 1 in person)

Well, thanks so much, you guys, for not letting me off the hook! Why do I get the feeling like this has become sort of like the A/P version of a reality show where you guys can't wait to see me humiliate myself? Ah well, I suppose it's my fault . . . I'll keep you posted!

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

More Blog Wars, Exciting News, and Counting the Votes

They’re Going at it Again . . .
Round #2 of the Blog Wars is up! This time, the theme is “The Top Three Mistakes Girls and Guys Make When it Comes to Relationships.” As always, here are your www.ninetyandnine.com and A Month in My Life exclusive previews:

Shana of if only it were fiction tells us ladies that over-analyzing every little detail will inevitably result in peril, but offers some advice if we just can't help it: “If you insist on wondering about whether he scratched his head as a secret sign that he thinks you look like a babe today, at least don't outwardly react. Did he look at you more than usual? Don't jump the gun and plan your wedding.”

Meanwhile, I love the honesty of Robert’s opening lines in where the sidewalk ends: “Guys are simple. We grunt. We scratch. We exist in the moment. It's a good life. However, this lack of complication normally leads to an absence of foresight.”

Also, Be Sure to Check Out . . .
The exciting news the matchless Lee Ann has for you over at Duct Tape, Dixie and Me. Lee Ann, I can’t wait for next Monday!

And So Far, the Yaysayers are Winning . . .
Well, I’m still over here chewing my nails and wondering what I should do concerning the Shy Guy’s proposition. All you naysayers need to make your voice heard because so far, you’re out-numbered:

Don’t Call Him – 2
Call Him/Have Your Mother Call Him – 7 (1 via e-mail and 1 in person)

I’ll be taking your votes through the weekend and will make my final decision on Monday. C’mon, all you naysayers, where you at???

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

A Lady's Dilemma (a.k.a Nothing Is Sacred When it Comes to Potential Blogfodder)

I returned home from work on Monday night and sitting on my computer desk was a guy's name and phone number.

"This guy was over at your aunt's house today," my mother said, "and your cousin showed him a picture of you, and he was interested in meeting you. So he gave me his phone number to give to you and said for you to call him so you could do lunch together."

I looked at the paper dubiously. "Did he seem like a creep?" I asked. I am such a creep magnet.

"No, no, he was cute," my mom replied hastily. "And he seemed really nice. He and the Hunting Freak were there, and he was all dressed up to take him out for his birthday."

I digested that for a moment. That was definitely a point in his favor. Most people aren't too kind to Hunting Freak.

"His dad was a pastor down here somewhere," continued the voice of a woman who is skilled at giving someone the third degree, "and then they moved to Washington, D.C., but he moved back down here to work, and I'm not sure he knows too many people down here now. He seemed kind of shy.

"I told him I'd give you his number," she continued, "but I told him you probably wouldn't call since you're not the type of girl to call guys. Oh, he's a year older than you."

Another point in his favor. After Dimples, I swore I'd never date a younger guy. A hard promise to keep, since most of the decent guys I meet nowadays are 19 and under.

So now I'm sitting here staring at this piece of paper, and I must confess, as a girl who hasn't been on a date in over a year, I'm feeling sorely tempted.

On the other hand, I am old-fashioned and very Rules oriented when it comes to guys. I don't chase them, I don't pursue them, I don't initiate relationships with them.

On the other hand, a blind date with a perfect stranger could be just the thing to spice up my very boring life.

On the other hand, (there is no other hand!) I am quite satisfied with my stress-free life, and I'm sure that would change dramatically should a guy get entangled in it.

On the other hand (I am going to look like the Hindu goddess Kali here in a minute with all these hands) I do enjoy the company of guys, and it's been almost two months since I last hung out with some of them in any sort of in-depth way.

On the other hand, I am really not into breaking guys' hearts or having my own messed with, and that's always a scary potential when it comes to guy/girl relations. Nor am I into having a string of short, emotional attachments. At 25, playing the field isn't nearly as fun as it was at 18.

On the other hand, I am always up for the chance to make a new friend, something I have precious few of down here . . .

So I've decided to consult you, my wise, insightful and always supportive blogging audience. Should I ditch the pro/con analysis and just give him a call already? Or should I chuck this piece of paper and figure if it's God's will that we'll meet up somehow anyway without my having to do anything?

I'll go with whatever you guys decide! That way, I can, Pontius-Pilate style, totally absolve myself from the decision-making and have a scapegoat to blame should things go badly. Cool, huh? Let the advice-giving godly counsel commence!

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

This Blog Just Got a Whole Lot Weirder All of a Sudden

Ladies and gentlemen, we have received confirmation that Stu the Self-Proclaimed Gutless Wonder does indeed possess at least one nostril!

Whew! I don't know about you, but I will certainly sleep better tonight!

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

This Blog Just Got a Lot More Exciting All of a Sudden

Well folks! Here we have it! Another exclusive brought to you by www.ninetyandnine.com and A Month in My Life! The moment you've been waiting for!

Well, sort of. You may not have been hanging onto the edge of your seat waiting for this moment, BUT! If you had known it was coming I’m sure you would have been!

We here at A Month in My Life have in our possession something I'm very excited about, something that promises to catapult 90&9 into a household name! That's right, we have a partial photograph that our experts have verified to be an authentic photo of last month’s blogger, Stu the Self-Proclaimed Gutless Wonder! Feast your eyes on this incredible, never-seen-before homage to the power of pixels!

Okay, don’t get disappointed yet. First, at least let me explain what it is exactly that you’re seeing. First of all, we see that Stu, apparently, has the pinkish-purplish skin that all so-called “white guys” seem to possess in really bad lighting. This photo also confirms that Stu has a forehead, at least, with a hairline that isn’t receding too badly. (Nice genes there, Stu!) Stu also possesses four wrinkles, two eyebrows, one eye and the bridge of a nose (possession of nostrils unconfirmed). We have also heard rumors that Stu does, in fact, own another eyeball and a mouth with which to spout witty words of wisdom, but as you can see, this photo does not provide actual verification of said rumors.

Now that you’re aware of how truly amazing this photo is, please ladies, remember that Stu is married and try to refrain from sending him love poems that say something like:

Roses are red
But my heart feels blue
Because I don’t have
A man with a nostril-free nose like you

And men (you know who you are!), please don’t send him poems either, especially ones that read:

Oranges aren't red
Bananas aren't blue
I’m jealous of all that hair
You have on your head Stu

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to

E-mail me!

Good News in the News

Score one for the pro-lifers! Two minutes ago I, along with the majority of the free world, had no idea who Mike Rounds is, but now his name will go down into the history books as the first governor to sign an abortion ban into law since Roe vs. Wade overturned it in 1973. It’s now official: South Dakota is the first state (since I’ve been alive) where it’s now illegal to murder unborn children. It’s about time!

Now, if only the demand for abortions were to decrease, but unfortunately, I don't see legislation ever changing that. At first I thought the abortion clinics in the state surrounding South Dakota would be cheering, as they will now get all the business South Dakota will lose . . . but then I realized the abortion rates probably aren’t high in South Dakota in the first place. I mean, they have a population of what, 17? And that's counting the cows too!

Brokeback Crashes
So Crash beat out the popular Brokeback Mountain in a surprise win for Best Picture at last night's Oscars. Interesting. From what I understand, Crash was not a movie advertised in the normal markets. It won best film or some other award at some film festival (I’m not current with Hollywood Trivia, as you can tell), and its primary mode of publicity was through word of mouth. That's an an astounding accomplishment that reveals that racism and the lack of human connection – issues dealt with in Crash – is probably more of an issue for most Americans than unrequited homosexual love, or whatever it was that Brokeback was about.

I didn't see Crash, so I checked out the movie trailer and the first couple of seconds of it is some guy talking about how people in L.A. never touch each other – foreshadowing the theme of the lack of human connection. I found that really strange, because right around the time Crash was released (give or take a month or two or six), I had this dream about Jimmi Simpson. (Yes, I have a crush on Jimmi Simpson, and no, you probably don’t know who he is.) Anyway, in my dream Jimmi and I were friends (we couldn’t date because he isn’t a Christian, of course), and I asked him why he slept around with so many girls.

He cocked his head and looked at me. “That’s the only time anyone ever touches me,” he replied. I woke up wondering if his response could apply to a lot of other equally lonely, promiscuous people out there and decided it probably could. (I swear, my subconscious is so much smarter than I am.) Perhaps today’s sad culture of rugged individualism has spawned a nation of people who aren’t craving sexual fulfillment as much as they are an authentic connection with another human being, wherein sleeping around is the only socially acceptable option our post-Christian society offers to fulfill that need.

I’m sure there’s a concept deep enough in there to keep a psychologist entertained for hours, but I’ve got a headache and a sore throat, so I’m feeling in no condition to pursue it right now. I really gotta quit blogging at 3 a.m. . .

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!

Luv is a Verb

Back in the day there was a man
Who stepped out of Heaven and he walked the land
He delivered to the people an eternal choice
With a heart full of luv and the truth in His voice
Gave up His life so that we may live
How much more luv could the Son of God give?
Here is the example that we oughtta be matchin
'Cause luv is a word that requires some action

--dcTalk, “Luv is a Verb”

It’s one o’clock in the morning; I can’t sleep, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the fact that I slept ‘til noon yesterday, or the Dr. Pepper I drank right before bed. Maybe it’s the deep question that keeps rolling around relentlessly in my head:

When somebody sneezes, do atheists say “God bless you”?

Kidding. Actually, I prayed before going to bed tonight that God would give me a few words for this blog. Then I found myself staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, all kinds of thoughts tumbling around in my head. Thinking maybe it wasn’t a coincidence, I fired up my computer, and now I’m sitting here wondering how in the world I’m gonna put my thoughts into a comprehensible format.

Actually, this is the thought currently coalescing in my head:

There is no influence in the absence of one’s presence.

Disclaimer
If I failed to make the following blog coherent (as it is now almost three a.m., and I'm finally sleepy), remember that you have to forgive me because you're a Christian (as my mentor once pointed out after stepping on my toes about something).

My (Hopefully Coherent) Explanation of the Above Thought
In his book, a.k.a “Lost”: Discovering Ways to Reconnect with the People God Misses Most, Jim Henderson tells the reaction of a Christian guy who learned that a Gay and Lesbian organization had just been formed on his college campus. While the other Christians formed a protest against the group, the guy bought a pizza and delivered it to the group's first meeting. He then went on to tell the amazed bunch of people that he would do so every time he got a chance.

I remember feeling very discomfitted when I read that. It was kind of a touchy situation, and I didn't immediately approve of what that guy did. I’m sure that he was hotly accused of being in support of that organization, but really, as I was to later conclude, there’s no law somewhere that says one’s presence indicates one’s support of another’s action, just a support of that person, period.

I learned this lesson for myself several weeks ago. In the past five months, I've traveled down to southwest Mississippi three times to assist in the hurricane relief effort. Rick, the guy overseeing the base of operation where I go, is both my friend and my (new) pastor, and I consider the permanent volunteers down there my family. When Rick prayed for the sister of a lady who attends a local Baptist church there, and she was instantly healed of diabetes and a detached retina, he was invited by the church’s pastor to team up with them for ministry to the community.

He accepted, and for a long time, I questioned Rick’s wisdom in doing so. It couldn’t have been more unconventional. Our beliefs couldn’t be more different. The goals of our ministry and the agenda of that church seemed worlds apart. How, I wondered, could two walk together lest they be in agreement?

It wasn’t until New Year’s Eve found me on my knees praying for a bunch of Baptists as they cried out to God that I realized why Rick had been so adamant that we get together with these people: He just wanted them to know how much they were loved, by him and by God.

I understand why we have denominational divides. I understand why Baptists and Pentecostals don’t attend church together. I understand why the two think they shouldn’t mix. I understand most A/Ps don’t have and aren’t given the freedom to walk into a Baptist church and pray for the people there and vice versa.

The rare and precious opportunity I was afforded to just that taught me a lesson I’ll never forget, the gift of our presence to the world. Love isn't some abstract emotion that we can convey from a distance. Like dcTalk says so well, love is a verb, demonstrated by a visible, hands-on action. If an action must be carried out, that means our presence is required. Wanna love the lost? Wanna be an influence on the Baptists, the Presbyterians, the Mennonites? You don’t have to agree with ‘em. Just go hang out with ‘em.

Thanks for teaching me that, Rick.

Questions, comments, concerns? Please feel free to E-mail me!