boo-hoo

Last Sunday when the Pastor preached I was horrified to learn I may have been an inspiration for his sermon. And it wasn't for my service at the Soup Kitchen.

He asked how many people were buying pumpkins, picking out costumes, getting candy, etc. for Halloween. Then he asked who was getting ready for All Saint's Day.

Uh oh. How was I supposed to know there would be a quiz?

Now I feel convicted about dressing up in a costume. I'd like to tell you I have some deep-seated need to dress up, because my parents were super-psycho fundamentalist Christians who wouldn't let us dress in costumes and Trick-or-Treat, but that's not the case. The truth is my earliest Halloween memory is my brother dressed as the Devil. My parents have huge Halloween inflatables in their yard and kids from all around come over to have their picture made in their Halloween Land.

I could tell you I want to dress up because Halloween is the only night of the year I dress inappropriately. That might inspire the Pastor to do a sermon on lying.

I could act like it's a relief. I'd been waffling on my costume anyway. The only thing I really wanted to dress up as was a Flapper. I got to the point where I'd waited too long and now all the good costumes are gone. I'm not being a Witch again. There's always a ton of Snow Queens left in the store because it's an ugly costume. I am not going as an Ice Queen. Why would I want that image out there in the universe?

So this year I'm going as a 38 year-old woman who is choosing to not dress up in a costume, live on a budget and save her money. Besides, in a couple of weeks donating a Flapper costume to the clothing room at the Church of the Homeless doesn't make a lot of sense.

I guess that means I'm going as a grown-up this Halloween.

Yep, it's pretty scary.

I hope the Pastor likes it.

Robyn's happy day haiku

grabbed my skinny jeans
wonder if they will fit now
yes it is good day

See what no Mexican food for a month does for you? : ) Time to celebrate. Just not with chips & salsa!

note to self

Dear Future Robyn,

As you prepare to go on your next trip with the Pastor, remember this:

No matter how far in advance you start packing, no matter how organized you are, no matter what you lay out, no matter what you buy, get ready or make checklists for you will not be prepared for the "Pastor Factor."

The "Pastor Factor" is the Pastor, coming home while you are finalizing everything minutes before your departure and deciding that he needs to, say, sit down in the middle of your kitchen floor and shine his shoes with Mink Oil even though he has - I promise you - not used his mink oil/shoe shine kit in 20 years.

I have no suggestions for you on how to actually deal with the unpredictability of the Pastor Factor, just know that it's coming.

Have a great trip!

Sincerely,

Present Robyn

not live from New York

priorities

Important to the Pastor on our trip to NYC:
-Human Rights Watch.
-The United Nations something or other.
-Genocide blah blah blah.
-The New York Public Library, because there are books there.

Important to me on our trip to NYC:
-Tiffany & Co - like that scene in Sweet Home Alabama??? when Patrick Dempsey's character said "Pick one!"
-A cupcake from Magnolia Bakery, the same place where Carrie Bradshaw (yes, another make-believe person) had a cupcake.
-A carriage ride through Central Park, just like when Big took Carrie on one in Sex and the City.
-Carlo's Bakery (Cake Boss) in Hoboken, New Jersey. OK, another tv show, but this one does involve real people.
-A slice of authentic New York pizza.
-The MoMA.
-The Met.
-The New York Public Library, where Carrie nearly married Big.
-Another cupcake from Magnolia Bakery.
-And another cupcake from Magnolia Bakery.
-OK, maybe two more cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery.

I now have a necklace and a bracelet from Tiffany's. And I'm sure I gained at least 5 lbs. And the Pastor? What does he have to show for his trip? Absolutely nothing. He should be ashamed of himself!

mud truck

UNbelievable desserts

dessert table at the U.N.

U.N. General Assembly

U.N.

Penn Station

I match my outfits to the art.

MoMA

Central Park carriage ride!

me, sweetness & light

we haven't quite perfected our movie making skills yet

subway rat, the sequel

subway rat

I know him better than he knows himself. Well, at least his food order.

Scene: Me, and the Pastor at Wendy's fast food.

I tell him "Go grab us a seat. I'll order you a Single, an order of fries and a frosty."

No, says the Pastor. He'll have something else. He tells me his order.

I get in line and wait.

Other people line up behind me.

The Pastor shouts out at me, "I've changed my mind. I'll have a Single, an order of fries and a frosty."

I shout back: "You mean the thing I told you you wanted before you told me you wanted it?"

Yes.

The other people in line laugh.

I'm sure he'll say it was my strong subliminal message.

As for me, don't worry. I had a baked potato and garden salad.

just your average Saturday night

I won't say whether or not this is the Pastor.

Yep, I rocked that look!

This lovely Minnie purchased the suit of her Minnie costume at Goodwill. I had the Pastor take a picture because I had this very same suit when I was a Working Girl (in an office : ) !) back in about 1989.

it's a Sunday miracle

I'm blogging.

The more time that passes, I don't enjoy being around the 20 year old college girls with their 20 inch waists and 20 inches of hair.

I do enjoy it in the moment, until I get home and look at the pictures. Pictures which I won't be posting here.

Me, in all my thirty-something glory. Not so bad, if I do say so myself. I exercise. I eat right, I exercise. That's right, I said it twice. I hate to exercise so I should get that much more credit for it. But when you look at me next to them, it's not a pretty picture.

But someday time will catch up with them as well, and they will no longer be able to eat the Hostess Donettes either. You know, the really good chocolate or powdered sugar donuts that have got to be little circles of trans-fat, and wash them down with a real Dr. Pepper or a glass of real, full-fat chocolate milk.

Of course when time catches up with them, I'll be dead.

I hope there are Donettes in heaven. And no treadmills. And no 20 year olds.

Amen.