Some [mostly] light-hearted reflections from the last few months:
Since moving to Mass, I’ve begun to take an inordinate amount of pride in the fact that I’m from Montana. I roll my eyes like a hearty, unshaven, mountain woman anytime someone complains about the cold, and sometimes I mention the recent avalanche in Missoula for good measure.
I will question a person’s fitness for ministry if he or she doesn’t like dark beer.
After hanging out with a few of the seminary wives, who laugh when their sons get bumps and bruises, and whose apartments are perpetually sticky and draped in partially-folded laundry, and who accidentally drop the F-bomb when their children refuse to get in the stroller, I think to myself, Hey, I can do all of those things, too! Maybe I have what it takes to be a parent after all.
On a related note, thank God that the future leaders of women’s ministries in this country are façade-free.
It has been roughly one month since I’ve had a good night of sleep.
I feel guilty for not being stressed about school. Everyone else is; am I missing something? Am I not taking my studies seriously enough? I ask myself these things at least twenty times a day.
Along those lines, I have never wished more fervently that I were a type-A, planner personality.
It has recently been brought to my attention that when I’m behind the wheel of my super cool Toyota, I become a bit of a Masshole. So beware, pedestrians: I’m not in Missoula anymore, which means I don’t have bow down before you at every crosswalk just because your carbon footprint is smaller than mine.