Thinking about God, at work, on the Wednesday before Easter

I grew up Catholic, of the "very" (but not Mel Gibson level) variety - church every week, youth group, confirmation, gnawing guilt at every inevitable sin and impure thought. John and I were married in the lovely little Episcopalian church by our house and attended long enough after that to officially become Episcopalian. Then I took up running and since Sunday mornings are for long runs we just sortof stopped going.

I still consider myself a person of faith, I suppose. I try to be good, I try to see the good in people, I like Anne Lamott books, when the s*** hits the fan my first inclination is to pray. Usually to Mary instead of God, who I had a bit of a falling out with a few years ago, after what happened to Dad.

But there's just something about Easter that every year I spend a few weeks with God on my mind. It's the lapsed Catholic in me, partly, but I have always loved the newness of it all. The solemnity of Good Friday and the stations of the cross. Then the light of Easter morning - the Laura Ashley dresses little girls wear, the lilies, the feeling that on this one day we all get to start fresh.

Apparently I'm in good company on these musings - in Salon today, Garrison Keillor had a lovely post about being a doubter, after a lifetime of faith. After I read Garrison's piece, Salon then thoughtfully linked me to this wonderful essay excerpted from Darcey Steinke's memoir "Easter Everywhere."

Spring Cleaning

I've been feeling lethargic and cranky lately and my moods are WAY too dictated by how much caffeine I have in my system. So, I've decided to do some spring cleaning by giving up caffeine, fake sugar and alcohol.

John says I can do whatever I want diet-wise as long as it doesn't impede his life in any way. Since he's already given up all of the above this seems like an easy peasy way to get started. Doing this in lieu of a more serious cleanse, but it may come to that depending on how Phase 1 goes.

Anyway, it's Day 2 and I feel fine. If I seem more irritable next time you see me, this is likely why. Of course I've been kindof mean lately anway, so maybe you won't notice any difference at all. Fun, fun.

2 Beers and a Xanax

do not make for an easy race in the morning. Luckily it was just a 5k or I would have been hurting. Otherwise, the Daisy 5k was lovely - good course, plenty of super friendly volunteers and they even gave us all flowers at the end. The women started 3 minutes before the men and it was an out and back course - so it was fun to watch the super fast men fly by on the way out, and the super fast women lap me on the way back.

What I got for my 5 dollars

One of the reasons that I don't usually come in the office on Friday's is that we have to pay $5 to wear jeans - a donation to one of the non-profits the company I work for supports. I like wearing jeans as much as the next guy, but $5 seems a bit steep.

Of course, at 10:40 am today, I "had to" walk over to Starbucks to buy my once a week latte. The tall soy latte is $3 and some change - I leave the change in the tip jar. That, plus the dollar I gave to the very pleasant homeless guy this morning and I figure I'm breaking even.

On a side note - holy crap, it's gorgeous here today. I love these Spring days in Austin, but it makes me nervous when they happen during SXSW since I'm afraid people won't go home. Seriously, LA-sters, don't move here. (Unless your name rhymes with Maura Briswell - then it's ok).

Huh.

I'm working from the office every day this week and today I noticed something pretty dumb about my behavior.

Every day, after lunch, I take a Solaray Once Daily High Energy Multi-Vitamin (Iron Free, Two-Stage, Timed-Release, natch).

Then, I have a Diet Dr. Pepper.

I think this is my version of washing down a greasy fast food style meal with a Diet Coke, but I just can't seem to stop myself.

If I had a subscription I would cancel it

I do enjoy the heck out of Vulture sometimes. I tried to read the actual "reported fiction" but only got a couple of paragraphs in before experiencing horrendous flashbacks to my own undergrad creative writing class.

As my prof ACTUALLY SAID "Sure, we've all been coked out of our minds staring at ourselves in the mirror for hours, but you have to show that experience not tell it."

Oh, and I sort of expect Esquire to be tacky, but geez...