Are You There God? It's Me, Dawn

So I went out with friends last night...an after work affair, low key.

It was a good-looking, professional crowd and everyone was stylin' and profilin' trying to be seen. It was fun just to hang out...though it was open-air, so I was trying not to sweat out my hair.

Anyhoo, after a while, it turned from definitely casual to decidedly clubby. The lights went low, the music went up...and folks were feeling their liquid courage. That's when I saw one of the funniest things that I've seen in a long time...maybe ever.

A woman, all dressed up, hair flowing, eyes closed, arms outstretched and body gyrating to the music like she was making the video. That's not the funny part. The funny part was that she had two chicken wings in each hand.

If you're not laughing right now, please go back and reread that last line...she had two chicken wings in each hand! I wish you could see inside my head right now, because just sitting here picturing it makes me laugh out loud. She was trying to dance all sexy with fried chicken in her hands. Lord, lord...that made my night!

*giggling* I want to say more, but...what can possibly top that? *giggling*

Me:  Ouch!!  Shoot…ooowww!!

Big Toe:  *swollen*

Box:  *looking guilty after smashing Big Toe*

Me:  *staring angrily at Box*

Big Toe:  *throbbing*

Box:  *waiting for a chance at more toes* (*evil laugh*)

There have been two times that I needed a drink.  Once was in college when I got into some panhellenic shenanigans that, while not abnormal, were certainly against the rules.  I almost got busted and my body set into an involuntary shake that wouldn’t stop until I had an adult beverage.

The other time was just this week when a guy I dated wanted to take me out to say farewell.  Our relationship didn’t end well and towards the end I started seeing what others saw…a selfish and egotistical man.  But he wanted to say goodbye so I figured, why not?

He’s a piece of work, let me tell you.  First he tried to ask me out over email…I was like, ummm…you need to call.  When he called, he had absolutely no plan…how you gonna ask me out, but not know what you want to do?  Then he gets here and stays in the car as I get close…doesn’t even fake like he’s going to open my door for me.  Like Rudy from Fat Albert used to say, “NC…no class.”

*sigh*  I could see this was going to be a long night.

We’re on the way to the restaurant and he says that I look tense and proceeds to massage my neck, trying to “loosen me up”.  I haven’t heard from this negro in months and he wants things to flow like they did when we were kicking it?  Don’t think so.

The waitress comes up and says, “would you like something…”, and before she can say “to drink” I’d already said, “YES!”

Silly, idle small talk ensues and he says at least four times, “I think you’re mad at me.”  I kept denying it, but inwardly figured he must be feeling guilty for the way he showed his tail while we were dating.  I was thinking, “if you want to apologize, go ahead, but I’m not drawing it out of you.”

Anyway, the night draws to an end and he gives me a hug and says, “you know I’ll miss you right?”  That’s when I’d had enough.  I pulled his arms from around me, told him that since I hadn’t talked to him in months, I had a hard time believing he’d miss me and shut the door while he said, “sorry”.

Sorry for being a jerk?  Sorry for lying about missing me?  Sorry about the lack of contact?

I don’t know…and maybe he doesn’t either.

It's hot as hell in Houston.  Don't worry, I'm not turning into a curser.

I've not been...but when I step outside, I imagine that this is what Hell feels like.  And if satan really wants to stick it to 'em down there, he'll make sure that there's plenty of humidity.

Everyday I take a shower, get all cute, and promptly burst into profuse sweat as soon as I open the door.  Night doesn't even bring relief...last night the heat index was 94 degrees.  *sigh*  It makes trying to hit the town a nightmare...one dance and all of my M.A.C. efforts are gone.  A sweaty Dawn and a cute Dawn cannot coexist...unfortunately, cute Dawn usually loses that battle.

Such is life in June in Tejas.

Houston’s the fourth largest city in the country…but I’m pretty much a small town girl.  So I’m excited about moving back north to a smallish town and I’m already feeling the love from the folks up there.

One of my co-workers took me on an hour-long driving tour of the town while his kids wondered aloud what we were doing.  Just going on a Sunday afternoon drive...I love it!  People in big cities are too busy for that...and those with kids (at least the ones I know) have them signed up for a million teams/clubs/activities so they can't just hang with the fam.

Another co-worker (actually a whole bunch of them) have told me that they’re going to make it their mission to meet a “nice fella”.

I have enough dinner offers that I shouldn’t have to cook for the first month that I’m there.

One man with a wife and three cutie pie kids told me that he’d pick me up for church my first Sunday in town, because he’d heard (ahhhh...the small town grapevine) that I’m a church girl.

That’s the difference for me…the folks in smaller communities really care about me and my well-being.  (Now the downside is that that can also be called nosiness.)  Not one person at my job here in Houston ever invited me over for dinner…even when I was brand spanking new on the job.  I’m willing to put up with a little bit too much of an interest in my personal life (nosiness) to get a group of folks who care about me, who’ll watch out for me, who’ll involve me in their lives.

I have a problem. I’m a Christian (and no, that’s not my problem) and I am increasingly finding myself conflicted by this western lifestyle.

God’s given me this body to take care of and I’d like to think that I’m doing a good job. But recently I’ve started to wonder about the food that I eat. I’m not a big fast food eater, but I’ll admit that I like the occasional bag of Mickey D’s fries. It seems harmless enough, but when I think about the fact that the fries that I eat here in Houston taste just like the fries I ate when I visited Paris…something’s off there. Exactly what kind of preservatives and artificial flavorings are they using to make that happen? And what is it doing to my insides?

One of my favorite church songs is called “All The Earth”. My favorite part says: all the Earth will declare that Your love is everywhere; the fields will exalt, seas resound. Hear the trees, joyful cry; praising You and so will I.

But then I think about how the food industry works and wonder how the fields can exalt when we’re filling them up with pesticides. Or how the seas can resound with manure and antibiotics and other gunk running off into them. *sigh* So I’ve commited to eating food without preservatives and that hasn’t been sprayed with yucky stuff. Somehow though, it still seems like I’m falling short.

Then I read about the plight of the local farmer…and how they’re being pushed to either follow big business or sell. I grew up in a smallish town, so I remember going to the farmers market for food more than the grocery store…sometimes even going to the farm itself to get the food. The way I grew up, the community sustained itself…not anymore. Even when I call myself doing the right thing and buying organic stuff from Whole Foods…the peaches I buy could be from Costa Rica. What obligation do I have to my community?

God’s blessed us with these extraordinary bodies that work pretty well most of the time, He’s given us the Earth with all of its trees and flowers and birds and marvels…shouldn’t we take care of them? What exactly does being a viable member of my local community mean?

So like I said…I have a problem (and no answers).

I had to go and do a fundraising event for my new job earlier this week and I think it’s fairly safe to say that my patience was stretched to its end.

On my flight out, which was delayed of course, I went to the counter to check with the attendant on whether he thought we’d actually get out of there on time and he looked at me with all seriousness and said, “you’ve missed your flight.”  I just looked at him and blinked a million times.  I said, “but I’ve been sitting here the whole time…when did they board the plane?”  To which he responded, “I just watched them put forty five people on that flight…you’re going to have to go to another concourse and try to catch your flight from there.”  I took a couple of steps away grumbling to myself and just being generally pissy, then I went back to the counter and there was a lady there.  “Did you board the plane to Chicago?”  “Nope.”  “But that guy”, I said pointing to the idiot gentleman, “said that the plane was already gone.”  “No ma’am, we haven’t boarded yet.”  “You realize that I would like to strangle him right?”  “Yes, I do ma’am”, she said while she smiled sympathetically.  Apparently this wasn’t his first genius moment.

Anyhoo, I had the fundraiser to attend where I was being introduced as a new staff member, so I was expected to be cute and charming and witty.  Mission accomplished.  So well that an old geezer half jokingly asked if I wanted to take a shower with him.  *Talking to self* Dawn, it’s a fundraiser.  Dawn, it’s a fundraiser.  *Giggles at old man through gritted teeth*

The other goal I’d set for myself on my trip was finding an apartment…which required that I rent a car.  I called in the morning first thing (like they’d told me to do!) and was told that they didn’t have a car available, but they would in two hours.  Oooookay.  Two hours later, no car available…let’s wait another hour and we’ll have a car available.  *sigh*  An hour later, I’m explaining in what I’m sure was too much detail, that I needed a car NOW.  I got a car.

Alrighty, I’ve navigated the fundraiser and the searching for a dwelling place…back to H-town.  Looked my flight info up on the computer before leaving, no delay.  Sweet!  Got to the airport, no delay…sweet!  Got through security…delayed a half hour.  Not so bad.  Got to the gate…delayed an hour.  Went for dinner…delayed two hours.  *sigh*  Finally get on the plane and the world’s stinkiest man is sitting behind me.  When I say stinky, I mean he had the most potent form of BO I’ve ever encountered.  The kind where your nose involuntarily crinkles up.  I seriously thought about putting on note on his tray while he was sleeping.  It would have read, “you stink, please take a shower and burn your clothes.”

Patience is a virtue I hear.

I get asked this question all the time, but this time I actually put some thought into it.

Why are you still single?

I used to say "I don't know" or "not my time"...but now I wonder.  I'm a pretty focused individual and I'm typically successful when I put my mind to it.  Have I not put my mind to getting hitched?  I don't think I have.

I knew a girl in college who was on a mission...a husband mission.  And I'd make fun of her and tell her to stop being so stereotypical.   Well, she's married with two kids and I'm single thinking about getting a cat...who's being stereotypical now?

I would never stand for those answers to any other question of import in my life...so why about a life partner?  Why would I leave the love of my life and the father of my children to chance? 

I think it's time for some self-reflection. 

My dad always called me his Father's Day gift.

He's a pretty awesome guy and I do wonder if we're as close as we are because my birthday is over Father's Day weekend.  And every now and then, as in this year, it falls on Father's Day itself. 

So our phone call today went like this:

Me:  happy Father's Day dad!

Him: Happy Birthday Dawn!

*love, love, love* 

Let's say that a friend and I saw a gospel entertainer.

But let's say that at first we weren't really sure that it was him. Let's say that my friend hollered out his name. And let's just say that I was horribly mortified.

Let's say, and I'm not saying that this actually happened, but let's say that it was that particular gospel entertainer. And upon our figuring out that it was him, let's just say we started singing his songs to him...that's right, we're cool.

Me: GP are you with me?

Her: Oh yeah...

Both of us: we're havin' church, we ain't goin' nowhere!

And let's just say the both of us were dancing while singing.

Let's just say that all happened, not saying that it did...but what if? Should I be embarrassed?