Joyous Loving Frolic Dance

Step one: Step ball change, Kick, Spin. Take 16 to Charlotte for the boa brigade.

It was the Unitarian Universalist Association's General Assembly. I was awarded Final Fellowship at long last. I did not want to go, did not want to participate, did not want to send in a photo. The more rambunctious of my pals and kin had other plans. So we went. In a caravan.

The back of my vehicle said: UU GAsm - Did I win a prize? Imagine this: I did not write that.

Dancing Queen Minister Angst and Honor

I can't believe I am going through with this.

I am getting ready to hit the road with 15 people I love to go to a ceremony in Charlotte. It is called Final Fellowship. It's a Unitarian Universalist minister thing. I have mixed feelings about it. That's why I invited my family and friends. If I hadn't - I would not be going right now. I'd be thinking about smoothie flavors.

Now I am doing both. Mango.... yum.

Poopy Diaper Attitude

A negative outlook is a force matched only by the intense desire to eat buttered popcorn after 10 PM, the natural aversion to public humiliation except when intoxicated, and procrastination during the tax season.

I am Miss Fussy Pants these days and there seems to be nothing to do about it. I keep telling friends I don't want to talk about it. Then I mope. I keep trying to 'fake it til I make it' and I fail at both. So here's my time-tested tactic used in every situation with equally poor results: the blurting rant.

What to Save What to Let Go

The nasty side effect of having an open mind is the frequent imperative to change it in light of new information. I spend an inordinate amount of time saying, "You were right. I was wrong."

This Just Crawled In

Note - Since this posting I changed my blogger i.d. from "Death Becomes Her" to "The Jotter". Neither is satisfying, but I did not want to confuse you any more than my ramblings already confuse.

Ever since I did not show up at the royal wedding the rumblings among my 18 fans have increased until this morning when they reached a dull roar at last. At least that is what I have interpreted the AM hollerin' in the Mickey D's parking lot beside my office to mean.

To settle a few things I have seen in the supermarket tabloids about myself lately - These assertions are false:

Ain't Looking for the Devil No More

"The Devil came down to Virginia,

he was looking for a soul to believe in him..."

Or something like that. I'm down to one degree of separation between me and Charlie Daniels - it gives me liberal misquoting privileges.

Since my post on evil I have attended two Black Baptist services, an Evangelical service, and received a personal invitation to a Jehovah's Witnesses event that mysteriously disappeared from the dining room table this morning. My husband knows I will go if I can only find the durn invite.

So how does this happen? How does an over-educated, liberally religious, politically progressive, feminist end up in three of the most patriarchal, devil-believing, biblically literal religious traditions to be found in a Bible belt capital?

Instead of Losing Weight...

I have decided to take a class to re-design this blog and fix my broken one.

"What broken one?" you ask.

Exactly.

I find it fascinating (which is sometimes spelled h-o-r-r-i-f-y-i-n-g) that I would rather spend money on a blogging class than go to a gym. But I will feel so much better about going to a bar after this than I would after the gym.