Tuesday, August 5, 2008


I've got issues.

Ok, for those of you who know me, that's a teeny bit of an understatement.

What you are about to read is a telling example that barely scratches the surface of my flaws. Let the record show, you've been warned.

Sunday morning Reese and I stayed home from church *gasp* because Danny was returning from the sixth grade summer retreat. We hadn't seen him all weekend and he was planning to leave for Dallas that night after youth. So we anxiously awaited his arrival. We worshiped in our jammies from the comfort of our couch. Well, Reese from her swing, but that's beside the point.

Sure enough the man of the hour walked through the door and into the arms of his two favorite girls. After we feasted on our Sunday dinner of turkey sandwiches, chips and bananas, (Rachel Ray better watch her back!) I picked up the TV remote. As I haphazardly flipped through the channels, I spied...oh it's almost too embarrassing to admit...Titanic. I wish I could say it was an informative documentary about the Titanic. I really do. At least I would have learned something. But no. It was the full blown 1997, Leonardo DiCaprio, "never let go" version.

My sister and I went to see it in the theater when it first came out. Why? I don't remember. I do remember forking over money to sob my eyes out for eight hours...or however long it was.

Here's the real kicker. I don't like the movie. There's nothing uplifting about it. We know how it's going to end. And the ending ain't happy! Since that lapse of judgement in seventh grade, I've had no desire to see it again. Ever.

But for some reason, Sunday afternoon it sucked me right in. I don't know what happened, but for an hour and a half, (thankfully I started watching after they hit the iceberg) I was glued to the TV. I watched every minute of it. The water came up, the boat went down and the old lady threw the necklace into the ocean. If you haven't seen it, believe me, I'm not spoiling it for you. I'm saving you 6 hours of your life and protecting you from the self loathing that is bound to follow.

While I was glued to the TV, I missed a call from my best friend Debs. Danny thought I was in the shower. Oh yeah, a shower...we'll get to that in a minute. Missing her call wouldn't have been that big of a deal, but she is away at camp and we can only talk every couple of weeks. Just one more repercussion of my lack of self control.

As the credits rolled, I came to and realized I needed to get in the shower. Something I had intended to do two hours ago. But somehow the idea of climbing into a confined space with water rushing over me didn't seem too appealing. So I sucked it up. I had to. We had youth that night and this girl needed to bathe, in something besides baby spit up.

It was the world's fastest shower. And I left the door partially opened. And I put a life jacket on the floor.

I warned you guys...this girl's got issues. Thank goodness I'm not the One dealing with them.

That ship has sailed.

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