| Your IQ Is 125 |
 Your Logical Intelligence is Exceptional Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Genius Your General Knowledge is Above Average |
I didn't know which countries were allies in World War 2. Didn't Italy switch sides a few times, or was that WWI. Wait, China must have been because it's a founding member of the UN.
Thank God for a few days off. This week has been insane. Yesterday I worked an extra hour after we closed, and today I spent another 2 1/2 hours trying to get materials donated so we could put back up a rack of clothes that had pulled out of the wall. Thank God again for the Habitat for Humanity Re-Store which donates us parts when we need them. Last time they gave us several brackets and a couple of coat closet shelves for our linen room. This time they gave us primer, wall brackets, and several planks of 1X12s. They are so kind to us in our endless spending freeze. Lights are burning out all over the shop and we can't afford to replace them. The end of summer vacations should have also corresponded with renewed interest in donations, but of course Katrina has changed that. Rightfully so. They have more pressing and urgent need. But things are very difficult here for the time being, and may be for some time to come.
I went for a walk today in a little circle around downtown. I had a library book to return, then window shopped a bit. And I went into a bookshop I've been meaning to visit. It's a lovely used bookstore. And by lovely I mean chock-full of books floor to ceiling with a great ginger cat in the window. Of course the place reeks of Cat, but I'm inured. I didn't see any Dorothy Sayers in the mysteries -- my new collection, but there was a Mary Martin book of Needlepoint that I'd like to acquire. The Mary Martin of Sound of Music, Peter Pan, etc.
I like walking around. That narrative in Sabrina about walking around Paris, stopping for coffee and pastries at your favorite cafe, then strolling to your bridge to journal always gets me. I strolled this evening then sat on my back fire escape with Letters to An American Lady by Lewis.
On a personal note, I'm in a slump and have been for some time. I think I traced it to the end of tour, but it may have started around mid tour when I was struggling so much with the complete inability to do even the littlest thing I knew I ought to. First tour was a learning experience, a chance to learn things about yourself, to correct bad habits, and to be forced out of your comfort zones. Second tour I think I rode the wave of success from the first, until mid spring. My devotions are almost non-existent, praying is a slap-dash affair, more based in guilt and scruples than an actual desire to talk to God. (And the fact that I still thing of it as to instead of with seems and indicator of the state of things) I find myself completely disgusted by the "Positive Life" radio station, mad at Christian fiction (because really, being religious is no excuse for bad writing)-except Lewis and the rest of the Inklings - and cringing at anyone trying to tell me "what God is doing in their lives." At Thursday morning prayer breakfast I stare at the table during the sermon. And I don't disagree with what he's saying, I'm just in no position to hear it, or draw anything from it. The people around me have very real needs and a very real dependence on God for every meal and every item of clothing. But it doesn't feel real. And I'm in a place to represent not just one, but three ministries. The homeless shelter, the Dinner Theater, and the Catholic School. And all I really want to do is have a Godiva Hot Chocolate and sit in bed and read paperback fiction. And I wonder, am I really a Christian, or merely "religious" by habit and inclined towards "do good" projects. I may have a beautifully underlined (quite colorful too) and personally cross referenced Bible, but aside from one time six years ago, I can't say I've felt God. I'm very aware that he answers prayer -- Good Heavens he sent me here with point for point matching -- but it's all I can do to pray more than a sentence. I'm sure I'm where I'm s'posed to be, and I'm even doing what I like most of the time but I'm so flat. I don't feel depressed, really, not like those horrid years. Some days I'd call what I am contented, but really it borders more on resigned. And resignation is horrible. Resigned to what? I don't know. I'm not even unhappy. Just drifting.
Really, this should be in my journal, but somehow this post ran away from me.
