Friendliness

I am not a friendly person . . . at least not to people who aren't my friends. I have no problem, and I even enjoy thoroughly, being friendly to my friends, but it is being friendly towards those I don't know well that I find intimidating and unpleasant. However, in Matthew 5, Jesus tells us to be friendly to all people and not just our friends. So, I want to obey. I want to please Jesus in every aspect of my life. I need to become friendly. I don't want to just act friendly, I want to be friendly. I've started practicing, and I've come up with a few pointers. My first and most important step? WRITE IT DOWN. Immediately after meeting someone new, I write down their name, a word or two to help me remember them, and a prayer need they have. I pray for them. Weeks go by, and I implement the second most important step: FOLLOW UP. I ask them how it's going with the job or the kids or the health matter they asked me to pray about. This is not only friendliness, it is compassion, and caring for the needs of others. It's vital if we are going to live Christ-honoring lives. How do you practice the art of friendliness in your life?

A Month (or so) of Living Decadently, or, All About Accessorizing.

I am not one prone to overspending, or spending at all, really. However, the past few weeks (or months) have been different. For the first time since I can remember, I bought some jewelry for myself. I bought it to celebrate my friend's wedding. That one special event has been the justification for most of my spending these past few months. I am so happy for her, and I am so happy for me, and I don't know how else to express that happiness other than buying jewelry, and getting my hair professionally styled-a first for me. The jewelry really made me happy, because I think it will add to the ambiance of the entire bachelorette party. It's not that I don't own jewelry; I just never bought any. That's not to say I've stolen jewelry; I've obtained it in various ways-Mr. M has given me some beautiful pieces. I have a long strand of beads that has been a staple in my small collection of accessories ever since I found it at a McDonald's 20 years ago. Then there is the red necklace I have from a friend who accidentally gave it to me on another friend's birthday. (Long story, one we still laugh about.) I've also inherited jewelry, some of which I did at one time purchase. I didn't buy it for myself, but I still ended up with it. Well, I'll keep this jewelry I bought for myself as a reminder of these happy months leading up to my friend's wedding.

Dressing Like a Chicken and Losing Your First Love

I am watching a BBC series where a man, Stephen Fry, drives through every state in America. He noted that Americans seem unusually prone to dress like chickens. "Preposterous!", I thought. But then I did some more thinking, and, lo and behold, I do know a disproportionate number of the American populous who have, at one time or another, dressed like a chicken. My neighbor went to his high school prom dressed as a chicken. My friend A spent an afternoon wearing a chicken mask. (I have photographic evidence of this on my Flickr account, the yellow badge on the right.) Also, I have seen several chicken-costumed humans dancing on street corners advertising the services of an auto mechanic. It seems to be a national pastime, dressing as chickens.

On an entirely different note, I was reading in the book of Revelation yesterday, in the letter Jesus wrote to the church at Ephesus. Jesus commended the church members for their knowledge and discernment, but He warned them that they had lost their first love, namely, Him. No matter how much Bible trivia we know or how theologically savvy we are, we must not forget to love Jesus. If our passion for Him grows cold, then all our facts and trivia knowledge are for naught. We must examine ourselves daily lest this happen to us. Jesus wants us to love Him with all our heart, mind and soul.

The Mysterious Mustache.

I was both mesmerized and perplexed. The man sitting next to me at lunch had a full, dense and lustrous upper lip of hair, but not much to speak of on top. The mustache was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Unbelievably thick, it looked like a stationary earthworm made of short hairs . . . and lumps. The hairs were so thick that they just blurred together into what looked like one long and skinny lump. I went to bed with a picture of the mysterious mustache embedded in my head, and then it hit me like lightning! Mascara! I was toying with the idea of some kind of lumpy paint-gone-wrong experiment on the man's face, but then I realized mascara was so much more easily available, and so much easier to apply. Mystery solved.

Friends, In Order of Importance

I do like lists. I like categories for everything. I don't like any confusion or discombobulation in my life. I prize punctuality. I like my calendar and my life to be well organized. I do many spontaneous activities, but my spontaneity is planned. I hate flakiness, and do all I can to avoid it. This runs in my family. Of all the amazing things my mom taught me, a priority was teaching me to be a responsible adult. I think her lessons stuck. I even like to organize my friends. I must say I am realistically ruthless when it comes to maintaining a sensible number of cyber friends on social media sites. I like to think I am tender and loving, but there is also a sharp machete always at the ready, ready at any time to trim anything unnecessary and unprofitable from my life. I think I am practical above all; not cold-hearted, but definitely practical. This is most obvious in the list of bookmarks on my computer screen. If you have been reading my blog for more than a short while, you know that I launched a full-blown plot not long ago to get my blog read and noticed widely. I've begun following others'-strangers'-blogs (which goes against all my previously held principles) to this end. Now is the fun task of listing the importance of these strangers' blogs, and where they rank in relation to my friends' blogs. I find on the one hand that while I want to get more readers for my blog, I also don't want to exploit my friends-that-I-haven't-met by following their blogs just so they'll follow mine. It's a real philosophical conundrum. What do you think?

Real Women of California, Only on Bravo.

I went to a shower this weekend, and a group of us took a fun photo with the bride-to-be. We were all dressed up and we did a sassy pose for the photo. I think I will send a copy of that photo to the Bravo network. Maybe we can make some money. I'm pretty sure that's all you need to do to be a reality show star: have a group of friends stand in a sassy pose. The people who work at the network will do the rest for you. They'll put you in a house, and edit everything you say and take it all out of context to make you whoever they want you to be. Sound like a good idea?

Calendars and Maps.

I hit my technological plateau in 2006. I had my cool flip phone (the same one I still use), and I had a blog linked to my very own Flickr page. You might even say I was savvy. What else could there be? A lot, apparently. I just figured I didn't need any of it, and I don't. Having a blog is nice, and it allows me to write for a worldwide audience, but it leaves me plenty of time to read and to have real-world interaction. I remember the olden days, when somehow my friends and I managed to meet up without having to use cell phones and GPS devises; we had calendars and maps. I still prefer calendars and maps.

Friendship and other Relationships

As I read MWF Seeking BFF, I look at my own friendships and realize I have more fun with my single gal-pals . . . or do I? Maybe it is just a different kind of fun with my friends who are married with children. Maybe it's all in your own definition of fun. None of my mom-friends will go out salsa dancing on a Friday night, but none of my single girlfriends are going to introduce me to a weird, quirky and hilarious new cartoon. Of course, I feel the closest to friends in the same boat as I, married without children, but that is a very small and specialized group. What are your thoughts on this? How do you define fun? Can friendship cross the marital status wall?

Who Let the Dogs In?

Rufus and I have barricaded ourselves in my office. Heidi, my friend's calm terrier, is in the living room with Mr. M and Momo, a dog who is temporarily living with us. Momo is unbelievably hyper, and I've had no peace since he came. The upside of having these dogs taking over my house is that the canine hierarchy has been firmly established. Rufus knows he is the canine king here. Heidi has been here several times, and has oft gone on coffee dates with her owner and me and Rufus. She is comfortable, yet she still knows she is a guest here, and as a guest, she feels an obligation to help in some way. The help she offers is the invaluable service of entertaining Momo. Rufus, as king canine, sits regally next to me on the couch, looking on as Heidi lets Momo chase her.
When Mr. M came home, I felt like I could truly sympathize with those beleaguered mothers who would jump at the opportunity to get out of their houses and away from their charges the minute Dad comes home. "Calgon, take me away!"

Fascinating Friendship

I'll just come out and say it: I find friendship fascinating . . . maybe even more so than the Oxford comma debate. I think that a good friend, or BFF, is one of the most under-valued relationships in existence. That is why I have read many, many books on the subject; and that is why I ordered yet another one. MWF Seeking BFF is written by a young married woman who moves to Chicago and embarks on a quest for a BFF. How would you go about finding a BFF in a new city? Fascinating, in my opinion.

Workouts On The Go.

Literally millions of health conscious women ask me every day, pleading, begging to know how they can continue their regular strength training workouts while on vacation. I will now answer all of those desperate health nutties in one post. The answer is both simple and free: find a sporting goods store. This can be easily done in almost any city in the world. Any sporting goods store worth its salt will invariably have a display of free weights, and, if you're lucky, maybe even a treadmill and a gymball. These are there for YOU. Use them. You may have to swallow a little pride, but, hey, who among us can't use a little shot of humility? The store certainly won't mind your demonstrating their product in everyday use. They'll consider it a favor, I'm sure. Just go in and do your thing. Swallow your pride and remember your commitment to health. You'll thank me later.

Kirk Cameron the Firefighter

I've heard some people say that acting is lying, and therefore, Christians should have no part in it. Really? How little credit does that give to the general public? If my house catches on fire, I'm not going to lean out the window and ask my neighbors to call Kirk Cameron . . . because Kirk Cameron's not a firefighter. He's an actor who once played a firefighter. I don't need someone standing around reciting Shakespearean sonnets while my house is on fire; I need a firefighter who can put out the fire. I'm not putting down reciting Shakespearean sonnets. It's just that there's a time and a place for it, and that time is not when my house is on fire.

What's a Rabbit Got to do, Got to do With it?

It's the time of year for everyone to start planting tulips and buying chocolate. Time to bring out the pastel baskets and eggs. It's that most holy week, the one celebrating fluffy little chicks and baby birds and lilies. Wait, no, that's not what we celebrate. We who are redeemed unto eternal life celebrate the dying of Christ and His glorious resurrection. We celebrate the death of our inner, sinful man, and his renewal and transformation into a new, redeemed inner man who is acceptable to God. We celebrate because we are reconciled to our Creator through the death and resurrection of His Son. I have nothing against baskets or bunnies or birdies, and certainly nothing against chocolate, but I, along with all Christians, need to focus on what Christ did for us on the cross. I rejoice in that more than in any silly symbol of springtime. Let's not forget the true meaning of the season.