Well...here I am. Writing...I've finished the popsicle and am chewing on the stick, tastes like artificial cherry and cheap wood.

I could sum up the week in complaints of the numerous early morning rises, after spending the whole day before on my feet and around new people. I'm going to just take a guess though, and say that it wouldn't interest you, and that is...after all, what I'm all about here, keeping you interested in me, my life, and our relationship.

Remember how last summer I was super nervous about performing in OTB's production called Birthright? Then it was held at the Indianapolis convention center. Well this past Friday we did it again in Olathe, KS. I had several relapses in faith, and confidence...luckily though this had no affect on the production, or God's most wonderful spirit moving the audience and performers alike to tears. It was quite lovely to be involved again, my friends make me proud, and I find myself continually being encouraged toward outbursts of love.

I served communion for the first time ever. I found the experience quite invigorating. My instructions were to hold my plate filled with yummy Hawiian bread, and to say this line to each participant: "Christ's body broken for you." I was even told that I should try to read names off badges to make the experience more personal. With these tidbits running about my already overly stimulated mind...I tried my best to serve each person with honest looks in the eye, even when I messed up the word order in my short speech, as people flowed steadily through my lane. I think I started slurring when I thought two or three of the people had already been through my line once...it was of course my imagination...but you know...I don't know. I regained my composure eventually, deciding that a caring look in the eyes would speak more than a practiced line ever would. I of all people, should have thought of that sooner, what with being the mime performer and all. I waited until I was sure my words wouldn't sound forced, to speak again...when I did a young and very attractive man walked up to me, with a strut that made his head wag slightly. He smirked as I met his eyes with the same pure warmth I had greeted everyone else before him. He stopped as I said my words, and when I was done, he winked at me, smirk growing wide into a smile.

I hate boys. They desecrate all that I find righteous and holy.

The tip of this stick has slivered.