I went to church on Sunday and was completely perplexed as to what to wear. The church was having a special reception for those entering middle school for the first time, plus a little meeting for the parents to keep us abreast of all the fun events we parents were gonna have to carve out in our already hectic schedules in order to keep the entertainment train flowing.
I was not in the mood to dress up whatsoever.
So I did it - I grab my faded blue jeans and put them on. It was an interesting experiment as I suddenly felt "guilty" about being in the presence of God while donning faded blue jeans. Our church is relatively casual most of the time; but faded blue jeans?
It's kinda of like Catholics not doing their Sacraments - you go directly to Hell, do not collect $200!
Then I though, "Is God gonna love me any less because I show up with blue jeans on?". I don't think so, but I grew up in the South and when it came to Sunday morning, we "dressed to the nine's".
Where the hell did that cliche' come from anyway?
I remember my mother always dressing me in frilly dresses (which I loath today), lacy gloves, and occasionally a hat when it was a special occasion. It was blasphemous to show up in anything less than curled frocks, penny loafers, starched shirts, polyester suits, and frou-frou dresses from JC Penney's.
I shiver at the memories as I throw a black tank top and a black sweater swing jacket over my jeans. My thoughts turn back to what "others" will think of my daring to wear worn blue jeans to church.
Uh, that's right - who cares! I'm forty-something now and it doesn't matter if I wear blue jeans to church, right? Yeah, right, cause I just wrote about that as one of the reasons to celebrate being in your forties!
"Then why the hell am I making such a big deal out of this in my head!", I ask myself so loudly that my daughter waiting patiently outside my locked bedroom door saying "What Mom - you're going to bed?"
I finally overcome my fear, guilt, and whatever emotion I can attach to this moment and confidently walk out of my bedroom only to hear my kids look at me and say "You're wearing blue jeans to church!".
Great! I haven't even left my house and already the judgements are beginning.
"I just didn't feel like dressing up in some pretentious outfit today - okay!" I snap back while giving them all the "just don't ask any questions" look.
We get to church and on the day that I decide to wear blue jeans, everyone else has decided that casual is not in and frou-frou is!
Figures!
I'm proud to say that I survived my first church service wearing blue jeans without anyone forming a mob in order to burn me at the stake. I'm might have even started a trend!
Amen!
Now To The Book
Some of you know that I have finally decided to sit down and seriously write a book. The only catch is that it involves NONE of my children. I write about my family all the time in this blog because frankly, if I didn't, I would have been insane by now.
This blog is all that stands between me and being permanently harnessed in a little white straight jacket!
But this book has been a long time coming. My mother has encouraged me to write it for a number of years, my father told me to shut down my blog and write a novel, I was finally convinced through some correspondences that asked if I had a book.
So, I'm writing a book. It's a true story - but not mine.
I've already spent the past four days doing some massive research because when you write a true story, you better have all documentation dating back to the Big Bang moment in time or you'll find yourself on Oprah defending your right to breathe.
We all saw what happened to that jerk who wrote a true story - got famous on Oprah - and then had to admit he "might of" made up a few juicy details.
How Stinking Embarrassing Is That!!!
So I have half of the first chapter done, but have been held up by freaking research. I've started accumulating so many papers that I've had to pull on of those plastic crates from the garage and empty it of it's oh-so-important contents (internet downloads of the hubs from like eight years ago!), and start stashing my info in there. I'm not even into it for one week and the paperwork is piling up.
Can't wait till Nia thinks it's just some old paper that she can draw her pictures on! Let's go ahead and have the heart attack now and get it over with - o-KAY!
So this week I will be contacting the Social Security office for official permission to find out some dead people's history via their social security numbers. Then it's off to the vital records departments in several states, followed by convincing a librarian in another state to find an obituary from the mid-1960's.
I'm filled with so much joy at the thought of dealing with these agencies that I could just shove nails up my nose. The nails would be a LOT less painful.
Anyone have any suggestions, feel free to give me your unsolicited advice.
With that being said, I have more shit to add to ancestry.com, and some more research to do on a few more dead people.
"I see dead people." Bawhahahahaha!!
Just be prepared - I could get stupider as this project goes on, so.....
To Be Continued.......
