Would you please put some pants on? I feel weird having to ask you twice.

So what happened to the rest of November and December? Well, mix the holidays with two ailing grandmothers, horrible news from dear friends, and a wee bit ‘o seasonal depression, and you get…a lady who doesn’t feel much like writing. So, here are some niblets going a ways back:

1. Communion at an unnamed southern church: At our home church, communion is prefaced with “the table is open to all who proclaim Jesus as lord,” or some such statement. However, this church we visited had the longest list of what Jeremy dubbed “fine print” that I had ever heard: you had to be confirmed, repentant (really, truly repentant – if you’re not completely and totally 100% sorry, don’t even think of taking communion), able to walk on water, dressed by joyous songbirds in the morning…it went on and on. And my favorite part: if you weren’t worthy, “don’t worry about skipping communion, nobody’s watching.” Which pretty much guarantees that everyone is watching.

My stubbornness almost prevented me from taking the juice and bread when it was passed, but I did so to keep the peace. Of course, I inhaled a bit of flour when eating the bread and started coughing. My first thought? “Ack! It’s rejecting me—I’m not worthy!”

2. I started a spinning class last night. Let’s just say that “hovering” is not as fun and sci-fi as it sounds.

3. I got to spend a little time with my niece and nephew on Thanksgiving Day. There is nothing as great as hearing a 2.5 year old girl attempt to say “Spongebob Squarepants.” This exchange was a close second:

Me, upon being presented with a plastic bag full of little toys: Oh, look, what a neat car!
My niece: No, it’s a Transformer (pronounced ‘Twansfowma’)!
Yup, she’s definitely my brother’s kid.

And finally,

4. I have been known to rant about the occasional clothing trend (gladiator sandals—ick). Now, this is not so much a popular fashion trend as it is an unfortunate “DC worker bee” trend. I give you what I have dubbed the ‘sleeping bag coat’:



For the love of God, people. This is not Alaska. It’s not even Maine. If your coat doesn’t cover your ankles, you’re probably not going to die. However, if your coat does cover your ankles, it makes something inside of me die. So please, invest in a nice, wool peacoat. Do it for me.