Inherited Paranoia

I'll never forget the time I was sick as a child with some minor ailment, and my mom took the opportunity to teach me something about my father. He was, as always, freaking out about all the possibilities this ache could be, and it was in turn freaking me out. Mom took me aside, and whispered to me, "Don't worry about all that. He's just like his mother. He thinks everything is cancer."

My grandmother was an extremely paranoid person, so my dad did come by this quirk honestly. Unfortunately, despite being warned at a young age by my mother, I, too, have inherited this gene, and it is a burdensome gene. Six months ago, I had a constant pain in my lower back. I stayed up night after night worrying about all the types of cancer or terminal illnesses that might make themselves known through back pain. Finally, I went to the doctor. It appears I had kinked up a muscle by worrying too much. That's right. I was suffering from a severe case of irony.

This compulsive worrying is not limited to just worrying about myself. I also manage to worry about my friends and family. For the past few weeks, my dad has been crippling around with a sore toe. I managed to get in quite a fright over this. I'd never heard of toe cancer, but who knows for sure, right? The pain finally got too much for him, and he went to the doctor. Turns out he had a planter's wort. As pathetic as this sounds, I slept better last night knowing my father just had a planter's wort.

In mine and my father's defense, we really had very little chance of coming out well. My Grandma Pierce was a nut. She actually got herself into a panic once because she thought her San Angelo Standard Times horoscope was telling her she was a lesbian. Yay, I was doomed long ago.

30 hour road trip + intense interview = exhaustion

Well, we're back. Actually, we got back four days ago, but I am just now catching up enough on life to actually sit for a moment and write. Kentucky was a good experience. They were good, loving people, and we really enjoyed the trip. Look how beautiful Kentucky is:


Interviewing for a preaching job is an extremely intense and stressful process. Here is a quick run down of how this interview went:

• Saturday afternoon: arrive and play games with the youth group.
• Saturday evening: have dinner with about twenty people who make up the hiring committee and participate in a small group prayer time.
• Sunday morning: BJ did the Bible class for all adults, and , of course, he delivered the sermon.
• Sunday lunch: we ate with about 50 of the members who had not had the opportunity to meet us yet.
• Sunday evening: instead of the regular service, they set up two microphones: one for BJ and myself and the other for the current minister. Church this night was just one big interview in front of the whole congregation.
  
• Sunday evening after church: we went to Dairy Queen with several of the people we had gotten to know the best. It was really nice.

So if you ever are thinking about going into ministry, here's what you have to look forward to. It is extremely challenging, but also very rewarding when things go well. We always end up learning a little about ourselves and about God's church.

After thirty hours on the road in 4 days, we are pretty much exhausted. As always, pictures of our dogs speak more clearly that I can. This is Gus and Sienna as we pulled out of Frisco Thursday afternoon:

And this is Gus and Sienna around the time we crossed the Texas border Monday night:

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

Here we come, Kentucky!

Bags are packed, the car has new tires, fresh oil, and a shining clean interior, and, most importantly, the dogs are washed. That's right. It's time for a road trip. BJ and I are leaving in approximately two hours to embark on our journey to Kentucky. BJ has an interview with a church in Farmington, KY, so we're making a four day weekend out of it and circling up to see his parents. I'm pretty nervous, actually. Two whole days of interviewing is a daunting prospect.

In preparation for the trip, I washed the dogs yesterday. Actually, I washed Sienna. Gus, would not get in the tub for me. No matter how much I commanded and pleaded, he just stared at me. I even tried lifting the 70 pound dog. I don't think I need to say that didn't work. So I waited until BJ got home. BJ lifted him up and tossed him in the tub. Then we washed him. By the time we were done washing that mass of hair, Gus was entirely traumatized. Here is a picture of him drowning his woes in his food bowl:

This is Sienna wishing she had more food, because, as always, she finished eating before Gus:

Gus stayed wrapped up in that towel all evening. It was like a small child with their blanky after a traumatizing event. Unfortunately, dogs don't have thumbs to suck.

My art room is growing

Although I enjoyed doing some grad courses in English, I am really glad they're over. I was getting tired of writing and reading, and I was itching to get back into the art room. Since my last day, pretty much all I've done is catch up in the art room. Unfortunately, as often happen in my house (past room mates can attest to this), my art room has spilled out into other areas of the house. I've been doing a fairly extravagant printmaking process for the past couple of months, and, as you can see below, my dining room has had to pay the price:

I finally finished this project late last night. Here is the final product:


I'm hoping to have an art show in my home town before the end of the year. These, of course, would be in the show, and they'd be up for sale. As I've said, this past semester at UNT was fun, but if it taught me anything, it is that I will get a masters degree in art if I get it in anything.

MY HUSBAND IS NOT A HERETIC!!!

There, I've been needing to say that all week. It felt good.

If you're wondering why I might have the impulse to say that, just give me a call. But if you know much about the past year in mine and BJ's life, you can probably guess what's going on.