Blog Every Day August: 8/2

Story time. When we (my sister, mom and I) moved to this (itsy bitsy hick magical) town two years ago, we began attending the local United Methodist Church. To put it as simply as I can, our youth pastor was offered a (non-volunteer, ahem) position as youth director at a church in a neighboring city. As a result of this and other factors (i.e. the pastor retiring and church politics being what they are), we don't really have a home church at the moment but continue to associate with our former youth pastor's group and participate in some of the events at their church. It's all very confusing but existent, and you don't really need to know all of this, but there's some groundwork for you.

Yesterday the youth group had a lock-in for the girls. It was really almost merely an excuse to get us to paint bluebonnets on canvas bags for the United Methodist Women to sell. I am somewhat insulted at being continually asked to do this. I know they sell them, but where does the money go? The UMW, supposedly, but where does it go from there? I am told that I am--wait for it--"the future." That gets to me too. Fumes. However, I do go willingly to these events, so maybe I'm bringing this frustration onto myself. We were also asked to write letters to soldiers, which I didn't mind as much. I may feel ignorant and jaded writing them, but I am much more comfortable at writing than painting bluebonnets. Just so you know.

Other main events at this lock-in included ridiculous dancing to Jesus songs and a talent show. I am not averse to Jesus songs. I like many of them, even. However, gesticulating wildly while singing "Pharaoh, pharaoh, whoa baby let your people go! Huh! Yeah yeah yeah yeah!" did not feel historically accurate. Maybe that's just me. As for the talent show... it included a lot of dancing to songs playing as loudly as my poor little phone could manage, as the girls were "borrowing" it to use music off of YouTube and the sound system was not behaving as they would have liked. I did not want to part with my phone, as it ties me to great land of the internet in scary social situations, but I was pretty much cornered into this act of supreme kindness. Woe is me. I get weird about my writing when people I don't know very well read it, but I read something I had with me at the time about puzzle pieces (don't ask) for my "TALENT" and earned the grand title of "Best Poet" for my efforts. I am not a poet, so this irks me a bit, but it is to be noted that I did take great care in not bending the certificate I received. Maybe I just don't like bending things. We'll go with that one.

Upon completing these perilous tasks, we scampered over to the youth building to set up camp with air mattresses, sleeping bags and more junk food than I've ever seen in a setting such as this in my life. I did eat a bowl of ice cream. It was ice cream. Junk food makes me nauseous, which I find to be quite unfortunate. I tend towards hanging out with the adults/chaperones when I attend group events, which is what happened in this instance. While the girls pushed their air mattresses together on the other side of the room, as to make mattress hopping a critical life skill to have mastered, I ended up on a love-seat in a group of couches the adults were sleeping on. I can't help but think that I probably slept better curled strategically on this love-seat than I would have on an air mattress, the supply of which quickly dwindled to none. With sugar at hand and florescent lighting assuring wakefulness, the girls quickly turned to utterly fascinating subjects. Such as thongs, boys, booty dancing, boys, the great need for gay best friends, boys and tan circles. Also notable is the fact that many of these girls wear very little in the way of pajamas, and I now am both scarred and almost convinced that I may be the last girl on earth without a flat stomach and hair on no places other than my head.

Sleep occurred at some point, and this morning I woke up achy and required to do some more Jesus dancing ("pharaoh, pharaoh, ohhhhh baby let your people go! Huh! Yeah yeah yeah yeah!"). Maybe it is a lost art that I am shamelessly shunning, but I really did not appreciate the Jesus dancing at that hour. Following this and more letters to soldiers, we returned again to the youth room where more junk food was consumed and people began readying themselves to go. Soon there were just a few of us left, and after straightening things quite excellently and being given lunch by the Children's Lunch Program the church runs (adorable! Jamwiches!), my sister and I were kindly given a ride home with the youth pastor's wife (who is really more of a co-leader, considering how much work she does for the group), her daughter and sister-in-law in their truck. They are the only family I know that actually, you know, needs a truck. We have trucks practically coming out of our ears here, but that is a rant for another day. The family has horses and does rodeo and probably other things I am unaware of. In any event, we were a bit squishy. There were pop up seats and I couldn't feel various appendages for a while, but all things considered it went pretty well.

And guess what? Now I am HOME. I could sprinkle you with possibly amusing anecdotes from my great and magical adventure, but my mom is home again now and I am compelled to go say hello to her and things because I missed her. Thank you for reading this incomplete (yet charming) brain mush I have somehow produced. Welcome to the fold, and I shall see you again tomorrow for more exciting things.