Sunday, June 08, 2008 marked the end of an era. A life lived to fullest, ended all too soon in a tragic accident. Vida Forrest was the first to discover the mangled body at her Uncles beautiful home. Lifeless and limp, in a wilted heap on the hickory planks of the cabinesque kitchen, her beloved friend no longer responded to her beseeching cries. Shock and horror quickly followed as everyone in the kitchen fell into a hush as Vida cradled the devoured loved one in her arms.

Zachary, the jackass husband, laughed at first but even his calloused, pea sized, shell of a heart went out to his grieving wife in her obvious pain. Sympathy soon poured out of her Uncle and his wife as they realized the gravity of the situation. They too felt the deep love and profound loss this senseless tragedy left in its wake.

Even as Vida held her tried and true friend’s deflated body she recalled the good times. All the fun they had together. How she was always instantly cheered up just by the presence of this selfless friend. In between tears she said, “No matter what, whenever we were together I always smiled.” They had been together in New Mexico, Texas, and for a brief time in California. “My husband actually hated my friend, he threaten to separate us many many times, “ she recalled ruefully, “but I wouldn’t stand for it, we were a package deal.”

Introduced by her late grandmother, Vida and her friend had many years together, more than her and her husband and some of her closest friends. “We’d often lose touch over the summer but every fall and winter we’d get back together” she reminisced. “This summer was different and we actually spent most days together here in Santa Barbara.” “What will I do now?” she lamented aloud.

Vida searched her friend for any salvageable sign of life, but from every angle it was clear it’s life had been brutally and eternally truncated.

While technically murder, investigations are pending as to whether it will be declared involuntary manslaughter or if there was a more sinister conspiracy to commit murder. As the only person with a motive to commit murder, Zachary will be detained and questioned. It remains to be seen if Ruby, the killer, unknowingly took an innocent life, or if she was an accomplice in Zachary’s grand scheme. Ruby is a minor but regardless of her part, her parents (Vida’s Uncle and his wife) will not be held criminally responsible. Vida said just the knowledge that they raised a murderous monster will be punishment enough.

Please join me as we mourn the passing of both close friends. At first it was just the one unexpected, heinous loss of life, but as all pure souls do, this one had a mate. Its mate couldn’t go on after losing one half of its pair in life. In the final chapter of this catastrophically fatal story, both friends were laid to rest. Side by side as they were throughout life, joined together not only by love, but also by their heads, almost folded together.

As their only living relative Vida had this to say,

“I loved them both equally and they made me very very happy. Though I may find a physical replacement, nothing…NOTHING will ever emotionally replace my favorite Duck Socks. Rest in piece guys…or should I say pieces. I won’t let the chewed, dog saliva, missing bill image be what I remember you by. I will always love you.”

*In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to the Buy Vida New Thick Wintery Duck Socks With Rubber Footie Balls fund.

Baby seal: Seen on the beach, sunning itself. I ran right by, startled it and it waddled around and then I was worried it might eat me, so I yelped and ran off. Don’t laugh, do you know if seals have teeth or not?

Momma Seal: Seen two feet from the shore, wading around the water, fatter than you’d think. Too fat to run after me so I wasn’t worried.

Blue Jays: Seen at my Uncle’s house in the mountains, they came to steal the peanuts we sent out…bold little buggers.

Rattle Snake: Seen while hiking in said mountains…scary, mad, and rattling away….I hate nature.

Things I’ve eaten my weight in:

Gouda Cheese: Tasty after the wine festival but let’s just say it wreaked havoc on my insides.

Organic Blue Corn Chips: Tastes great, needs salt.

Kettle Corn: What am I six? Why does it seem like there’s nicotine in those sweet yet salty little kernels?

Festivals I’ve been to:

I Madonnari: Italian street painting festival….freaking awesome chalk drawings at the S.B. mission.

Strawberry Festival: Festival of, you guessed it, strawberries. Fun and tasty.

Wine in the Pines: Wine tasting festival in B.F.E. or should I say B.F.E.M.* Seriously good wines, a few too many tipsy people.

Things I’m missing back in Austin:

New babies: So many preggo moms to be, congrats to you all.

New houses: Gorgeous new homes being bought, congrats again.

New ventures: People working towards their dream…how cool is that?

Things I’m not missing back in Austin:

Killer tomatoes: I don’t have to worry about Lachanophobia

Sweltering heat: Still a balmy 71 here, read it and weep, while 30% of your body weight seeps out your pores, runs in salty rivets down your back and pools under your body.

Traffic: While you sit in the parking lot that is I 35, I’ll cruise down the 101, with my ocean view and my 15 minute commute.

*B.F. Egyptian Mountains

I decided to apply with a temp agency to see if they can help me get a permanent job. I called this place and this was our previous conversation

Me: Hi, I just moved to Santa Barbara and I’d like to set up a time to apply with your company.

S.E.G.*: Ummm, yeah are you looking for temp or permanent work?

Me: Either one.

S.E.G.: Ummm, yeah, have you been to our website?

Me: Yes, I have.

S.E.G.: Ok, fill out the application ad let’s meet on Wednesday at 2:00pm.

Me: Ok, that sounds good.

S.E.G.: Ummm, yeah are you looking for temp or permanent work?

Me: Either one (didn’t I just answer this?).

S.E.G. Ok see you then, bye. (click)

So Wednesday, I Google directions, because the oh so helpful lady gave me none and I set out for my appointment. I drive there and I can’t find it. I drive in circles forever and I with each loop I’m more and more frustrated and pissed. Isn’t it good customer service to give directions or ask if I know how to get there? I said I just moved here…HELLO. I finally cave and I call Zach to Google the directions. He does and they are the exact same as I wrote down. Now I’m even more pissed and I’m about to be late. Zach gives me the number for the office and I call the girl and I ask for directions. She asks if I’m in the area. I respond that I am and she says, “Well, we’re a big glass building with windows and I have pink flowers on my desk and I’m staring out the front window.”

I take a deep breathe so I don’t say something snotty and I ask for the cross streets and building number. She gives it to me and AHA, it’s not the same address that was on the website. Now I feel less stupid but just as mad because any good employee would have given the address if it was different from what’s on the website.

I get there and again I’m mad because the so called “big glass building” is a two story gray stucco building with big windows…big difference honey.

Act I

Setting: Temp office. Big room with windows on one side. Two desks face the window separated by a thin piece of wood about 4 ft tall. Two empty desks face the opposite way separated by another thin piece of wood. Two feet from those empty desks are two small rooms. One with three ancient computers and one with a big filing cabinet, supplies, and a printer. Three small offices line the opposite end of the room, all with open doors.

Me: (Enter the office and notice dishearteningly that the girl about to help me is slouched so far down in her seat that her chin is level with her mouse) Good morning! I have an appointment with Sarah.

S.E.G.: Uh, yeah, that’s me.

Me: (Smile while I clench my teeth and will myself not to make allusions to her job performance based on her posture, lack of directions, and obviously inadequate knowledge of what constitutes a “big glass building”)

S.E.G. So, what kind of job are you looking for?

Me: Intelligent response showing I’m open to a variety of possibilities all the while underlining my skills and abilities.

S.E.G.: Ummm, yeah are you looking for temp or permanent work?

Me: Either one (how many times do i have to answer this…is she listening at all?).

S.E.G.: Ok and do you have a resume.

Me: Yes I do, (hand her my resume) and I also filled out the online application.

S.E.G.: Ok, let me have you answer some questions and then watch a video.

Me: (The two phone calls you answered were about your address and directions because people can’t FIND IT and I really hope that ESP will help you to find me a job in addition to those three in depth, probing questions you just asked me)

Act II

I’m led to the room with the ancient computers and I start to answer the questions. How would I characterize my use of meth, how would I characterize my use of marijuana, how often does my recreational use of drugs make me late for work, if I was low on money how likely is it I wold fake a work related injury to get worker’s comp. These are actual questions, I’m not making them up. I’m hopeful I aced the test but some of my companions may not have.

As she starts up the video for me I say:

Me: Your website gives a different location for the office, have you recently moved (tilt head and look innocent)?

S.E.G.: Umm, yeah we moved like three months ago.

Me: Oh, that’s why when I looked up directions it gave me your old place (smile and blink sweetly).

S.E.G.: Yeah, someone should tell them we’ve moved.

Me: (Ya’ think?)

Act III

I sit at one of the empty desks to complete paperwork and I overhear this conversation:

S.E.G. 2: Is t-h-r-u a word? I can’t ever remember if it is or isn’t.

Me: (Please tell me she’s kidding)

S.E.G. 3: Um, I don’t know.

S.E.G. 2: Yeah me neither because I use it all the time, but I’m not sure.

S.E.G. 3: I know, me too.

Me: (Really? Are they really not kidding?)

S.E.G. 2: Well, I don’t know if it’s thru or threw, but it just seems weird, you know?

S.E.G. 3: Yeah. What’s the sentence?

S.E.G. 2: I need to send the paperwork thru/threw your office.

Me: (Is velocity or gravity involved in this transaction? Did you toss the paperwork? Is anything flying through the air? )

S.E.G. 3: Hmmm, yeah I don’t know.

S.E.G. 2: Me neither.

Four minutes pass

S.E.G. 2: Ok, well I just used through and it’s probably all wrong and I’m sure I’ll look like a total idiot, I mean who uses through, but whatever.

Me: (Please tell me how your job is to find me a job when you can’t handle elementary school grammar? How are you employed and I’m not? )

* S.E.G. stand for Stupid Employed Girl…and yes, I’m just slightly bitter.

Ok, let’s get right to it. Church 2 meets at a junior high school auditorium, which you’d think would be pretty lame, but let’s remember I live in S.B. home of everything pretty, so naturally it’s gorgeous. And can we have a little side bar here so I can tell you that I use the word gorgeous a lot now. I seem to use it every time I describe something about S.B. and it’s just so apropos. Another side bar to my side bar, yes I just used apropos and it might be in my list of top 10 words. ANYWAY, this auditorium is gorgeous, it has fancy painted, inlaid ceilings with gilded curly things all over and more stuff I can’t describe. Let’s just say that I’m sure it’s a historic landmark because it’s that ornate and beautiful.

We get out of the car and this time we’re ready, we’ve got our game faces on. And yes, my game face includes my game sunglasses and game stilettos. I’m looking around and checking people out. The dress is what we’ll call snotty casual or uppity dress down or rich people trying to look like they don’t care….or should I say, rich people trying to look like they don’t care while showing off their designer labels. Now let’s first understand that I have nothing against labels…I don’t have anything designer of course, but if I did you can bet I’d show it off. It’s like big boobs, it seems a bit much when you see some people with too much cleavage on display, but you can bet your ass if I had big boobs, I’d show cleavage at every opportunity and even make up opportunities where none existed.

But I digress.

My point is that people here were youngish and they all had their blonde highlights in place, toes done up in the latest summer colors, long janlgy necklaces, skinny jeans with designer flats, oversized handbags, and flowy colorful layered tops. To be honest, that’s what a lot of people look like, but it was a bit different here. More of show. They guys all looked trendy in their distressed jeans, flips flops, and vintage shirts ( or sports coats with a funky tee underneath). What, what’s that you say….that’s what my husband looks like? Yes, it is his uniform but he didn’t pay $400 for the look and he’s been that way since before it was cool and sadly he’ll be that way until after it’s cool too.

Ok, so we walk up and off to one side there’s an area where you can get a family portrait taken after service since it’s Mother’s Day (mental note, avoid getting roped into that as we leave). An overly friendly guy with a Bible says “Good morning!!!” Please note the exclamation points are not added for emphasis, he actually spoke in exclamation points. We smile, nod and keep walking. Someone on our left calls out in a sing songy voice, “Goooooood Morning!” Nod, tight smile, keep walking. On the right, “Hello, welcome!” On the left, “HI!!!” Head down, plow through, plow through. On the right, “HI! We have name tags here for you if you’d like!”

My husband picks up his head and gives this poor smiling, little man a look that says, you are a vacuous dolt and have made the most inane request I’ve ever heard, do you think Jesus made the disciples wear name tags? I assume I’m going to hear a big sigh as we scribble our names on the tag, but no, in addition to the withering look, Zach says, “Ummmm, no.” And we walk off without name tags.

We make it into our seats and we had to pass (I am not exaggerating) at least six sets of smiling Stepford greeters. I felt like a football player. And yes, hold on to your hats, I’m going to attempt a sports analogy. You know how they lower their chests, put a shoulder out, and barrel their way through the line, that’s how we felt trying to get to our seats. After Zach rudely told the man we didn’t want his name tags, I just put my head down and looked at my shoes until we got to our seats.

It seems wrong to fault people for being too cheerful, too friendly, and too smiley but let’s face it, that’s just the kind of girl I am.

So we sit there and then worship starts and people drift to the stage….and they keep drifting, and drifting and drifting until there are 21…count them 21 people on the stage. We’ve got a drummer, two guitar guys, a bass guy, a keyboard girl, a female lead singer, the male (left handed Zach noticed) acoustic guitar playing worship leader, maybe another instrument or two and a big fat choir in the middle.

Yeah, this is not looking good.

“ALL RIGHT, WOOOOO! How is everyone out there FEELING this morning??? Let’s get up and PRAISE THE LORD!!!!” Enter loud slap bass…yes you heard me, slap bass. This is clearly the same man who initially greeted us and he is again talking loudly in exclamations. We hear the slap bass and I know instantly it’s over.

Cheerful, friendly, smiling people we could overlook, but contemporary worship?

No, no my friend, that we cannot abide.

My husband is a pretty easy going guy, but he draws the line somewhere and Jesus himself could not make Zach cross the slap bass, contemporary worship, put your hands in the air line. He just looks at me in this are you freaking kidding me way and I smile like a little kid who says oopsie.

My line in the sand is somewhat less rigid than his and I’m quite content to be entertained, because that is what it was, a production. I know the songs and I sing along because I don’t mind the music, although I do hear the voice of my friend James who once told me, “I used to play slap bass because I thought I was cool, but then I realized it wasn’t.” You kind of have to see his deadpan face to get the humor and severity all at once. So I sing, Zach glowers and neither one of us clap. I hate when people tell you to “PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER AND PRAISE THE LORD!!!!!” Honestly, I don’t like to be told what to do and clapping seems idiotic, so no, I won’t clap.

I could talk about the sermon, but what’s the point, the worship killed it. Zach almost poked his eye out right then and there. I seriously felt like I was in a worship cd with all the music and clapping and twenty some people on stage. The pastor got up and he was wearing jeans, a sports coat and a t-shirt underneath it. We look at each other and just roll our eyes, the guy was like 50. He talked about somethings that could have been really important. His series was 100 Days to Live and this Sunday was Loving Deeply. The stuff he said was ok some stories about himself when he was younger (his Mom was visiting) and then the main points of his sermon but it seemed like everyone was trying too hard.

Our previous pastor was young and our church was, well I don’t know the correct church word, modern, progressive, emergent…I’m not sure. People didn’t have to dress up for church, jeans and flip flops was the norm and not the fully accessorized jeans and tank top outfit, just the I threw this on this morning because nobody cares what I wear to church. And I guess that’s the point. I’m not trying to harp on the clothes thing because I’m all consumed with clothes but there is a point where church can become a pageant, where it can be about being seen and it’s very important that we don’t go to church like that.

The pastor was desperately trying to be young and hip and while he was very close to it, small things showed how hard he was trying and that bothered us. We talked later about it and we both agreed that our old pastor didn’t try to be anyone but who he was. Who he was evolved and changed as time went on because people grow but it never felt like he was trying to be someone else. We may not have always agreed with what he did or liked it but it’s important to stay true to what you believe is right.  I’m not saying he was perfect but he was genuine and that counts for a lot.  If we’re going to go to church we’ll be there, we’ll be involved, but you get all of us, all of who we are in our weird messed up ways.  And if you can’t even be yourself, how can you expect me to believe that I can come as I am and truly be myself?

Over a year ago Zach and I visited this mega-church in Missouri.  It was actually awe inspiring.  The kind of place that makes your mouth drop open because it’s just too much.  Stadium seating, multiple jumbo trons, choirs coming up out of the floor, dramatic videos, and thousands of people on the edges of their seats.  It was amazing and seriously creepy at all once.  It never occurred to me that Jesus was big business, but whoa nellies, he sure is.  This church that we just visited was a mega-church in training.  It was a steadily growing church that is poised to erupt.   You could just see sermon series, packaged and on sale for other pastors to buy from the website.  You could just see the head shot of the pastor on the brochure to attend his lecture series in 12 major cities.  You could just see the t-shirt you got for free when signing up for the weekend conference lead by the head pastor.  You could just see the cds on sale from the worship band’s live performance ( and if you listen closely you can hear me singing along).

Ok, they’re not there yet but you can tell they are headed there.  The pastor talked about this conference he spoke at but it felt more like name dropping than a valid point to his sermon.  I don’t want to feel like I’m hearing a sermon because the pastor needs to work out the kinks before he sells it online.  I don’t want to feel like I’m in a service where I’m a body to fill a seat for the video they’re making.  I want to be there to feel inspired, to help get me back on track, to learn something, to be a better person, to connect.

It wasn’t all that bad, I’m making it sound more insidious than it was.  But there are things that kept me away from church and “those Christians” for a long time and that’s what I felt like at that church.  I’m sure a lot of people there did feel inspired and did feel connected but it sure wasn’t us.  Zach grabbed my hand and we made a bee line for the car and crossed this one off our list.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this church ends up being a huge church in S.B. or if the pastor goes on to do big fancy things or if the church ends up being a super well funded organization with fancy pants members.  I know a church like that can do a lot of great things and reach a lot of people but I won’t feel bad for second that we decided it wasn’t for us.

Oh well, there is always next Sunday.

Good week.

Monday to Monday was pretty good, better than ok, more than just not sucking, it was actually good.

Monday: Per my husband’s not so subtle admonishings to do stuff on my own, I set out for the beach with a backpack, my iPod, a book and a notebook. I walked for 30/40 minutes, watched the waves, and then read my book. Pros: Did it by myself, had a really nice, relaxing time, finally pulled on my big girl panties. Cons: only backpack is from high school, bright blue, with Marvin the Martian patches.

Tuesday: Left Marvin at home and walked to the beach and then…wait for it…ran along the beach. Yes, I ran along the beach. How cool is that? It was really nice and I felt like I was in a movie with the waves licking at my heels. Pros: Felt fancy and got in some exercise. Cons: Am unfit, slow, iron lunged, fatty. Can only run for super short time, thus fancy feeling only lasts for super short time.

Wednesday: Went for orientation at Food Bank, because if I can’t earn money, then I should at least do something helpful. Found a new grocery store and explored a new piece of S.B.

Thursday: Hung out with a girl. Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves, I actually initiated contact with someone I don’t really know. We hung out and had a really nice time. Another day I wore my B.G.P.

Friday: Can’t remeber anything special..sorry, except running on the beach…more exercise.

Saturday/Sunday: Went and saw Prince Caspian, tried a new restaurant, did some crafty stuff, went for another walk on the beach.

All in all, an awesome week.
I talked to a bunch of my super close friends, made dinner a bunch of nights, kept the house clean, finished my second book from the library, got mail that wasn’t bills….basically I freaking rocked. It just felt good. I’ve been in a funky mood since we moved, just dealing with being by myself in a new place, with no job or friends, and this week really marked a change.

I did a bunch of stuff on my own and really enjoyed myself which, not coincidentally, makes things less stressful for Zach and I and freed him up to be awesome and very thoughtful. I am, dare I say it, proud of myself .

So, yeah, this week has been the best week evah’, or at least the best week so far in S.B.

Right before we left Austin, Zach and I spoke at the church (gave our testimony, for all you churchy types) about what it had meant to us. Preparing for that really allowed me to reflect on just how much the church was a part of our daily lives.

We were so lucky to have an intimate relationship with our last pastor, I could (and did) call or email if I needed help or had a question or an inappropriate comment to pass along. We could hang out with him, we could trust and respect him, we could learn from him.

Now that we’ve moved, we’re churchless and the process of finding a new one is really daunting. I know nothing will ever replace what we’ve left, but we’re hoping to find something new that still fits us.

Oh wait, let’s do this in the style of a Geico commercial.

Zach and Vida are just two regular people, so we’ve enlisted this movie announcer to help tell their story…

Searching for Jesus in a world full of hate, a young innocent couple embark on a journey. Little did they know just how much Jesus and hate they’d end up getting.

No? Ok, how about we do this snarky, Miss Vida style….yes, I think that’ll be much better.

So here is Church Hunt Phase 1 or A true experience of the fight or flight response.

The first church we check out is the one that Zach’s friend attends. This guy and his wife were amazing to Zach when he was trying to get the job. They let him stay at their house twice, they showed him some things, and they even recommended Zach for the job. The hard part is that we’re just checking it out and we know it will be a bit awkward when the next Sunday rolls around and we’re not there. But never mind that part.

Ok, so we’re in the parking lot of an elementary school waiting to go in. We’re a bit early and we’re both psyching ourselves up for this. Ok, we can do this, we can talk to strangers, we can be friendly, we can mingle, we can fit it. Um, no…no we can’t. Both of us actually get a little nervous and we admit we’re not ready to face all of those friendly people. Too bad, the pastor’s wife parks right next to us. Shit, now we have to go.

Alright, outfit…cute but casual in a stylish sort of way. Hair…combed and straighted (first time since we unpacked) Sunglasses…awesome, a little bit bitchy, and totally unnecessary (except I feel invisible when I have them on…invisible and slightly superior) Husband…exactly like he always is, holes in his jeans, flip flops, and scowl firmly in place.

Ok, here we go.

They meet in the school gym which is small but the perfect size making the room seem big enough but still intimate. Everyone sits at large, round tables seating 4-8ish, which I immediately love. They have it done nicely with tablecloths and matching chairs so it doesn’t look haphazard. First to greet us is Zach’s friend, not at all what I was picturing. He has tattoos all over his arms, funky hair, and gaged ears, he actually looks like he’d fit right in Austin. He’s nice and then someone else comes over and blah blah, chatty chat chat, smiley smile smile, new to S.B. very pretty, no job, still unpacking.

We meet the pastor, youngish, friendly, but you could tell he as trying which was nice so I know he’s human and not some grinning, idiot pastor-bot. We were already sitting at the table so he had to squat down to talk at our level…weird.

Band gets up to play (two guys on guitar, one guy on drums, and a girl at a keyboard). They do a decent job and while I’m sitting down trying to read the words of the song Zach nudges me and says that everyone else is standing. Oops.

I’m singing and observing. Mostly young people, couples with young kids, some college-aged people too. Singy sing sing sing and then I notice a little communion station. Cool, I like communion. I see a tray with some crackery things and two goblets. They’re sitting on a table with…wait, back that up, did I just say two goblets? What? Do we all just drink after each other? Gross, and shit number 2 for Sunday the holiest of all days.

Pastor gets up and talks, he’s relaxed and speaks without notes (I find this very fancy). He moves in a half circle as he talks to make eye contact with everyone (also fancy and much appreciated). Zach leans over and says, “Did you see the two cups? We don’t have to all drink out of them do we?” It’s creepy when we think alike.

I pull out my super cool notebook to take some church notes. One of the girls I know always takes notes during church in a notebook. I love that idea since I’d like to be able to look back at previous things which is hard to do when I toss the back of the program I sometimes write on. And my friend gave me this beautiful, red leather book with Faith written across the top (THANKS FISHY) so I’m feeling rather smug, religiously superior, and judgmental as I whip out my book to take notes.

Ok, turn to the book of…mmmhmmm, writing that down. We’ll be talking about…yes, yes, got that part too. Oh, I like that phrasing…yes, more notes. Ok, nice long scripture…underlining key points. We’re going to deviate from the normal order and…yes, yes, I’m getting it all down.

Wait, we’re going to what…what’s that he said? We’re going to listen to the sermon for a bit and then we’re going to put the scripture into action….we’re going to put our hands on the people at our table and pray for them.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo.

P a n i c, p a n i c, p a n i c. Frantic scanning the other people for signs of a joke. I feel my eyes widening and I’m checking for my purse and how far away the door is. Seriously, I am experiencing the whole fight or flight thing and I am clearly, clearly choosing flight. Would it be super rude to quietly slip away when the pastor turns around? Would it be hard to explain to Zach’s friend? Um, yes and double yes.

How’s Zach taking this….about the same as me.

Shit. Number three. I am never coming back here, this is so not for us.

Ok, let’s focus on one thing at a time. We can’t leave, so how’s the sermon? Pretty good, I like what’s he saying. Different in structure than I’m used to, but with my trusty notes, I’m good.

Oh no, it’s time. Time for the switch, bye bye sermon, hello communion, hello touching and praying. Oh sweet baby Jesus, please help me. What can I do, what am I supposed to do, who can help me???

Oh, what’s that you say? I’m in church, I should pray? Right, right let’s pray. So I pray for an open mind, I pray for God to lead us to the right church and for us to be open enough to realize it. I pray for God to help me get over my fears and inhibitions, get over myself, and really experience new things. I pray to leave my comfort zone of faith, leave complacency, and really stretch myself. I pray to grow spiritually even if that makes me uncomfortable and I pray for God to help me get through this service. I tell God that I know he’ll lead me to the right place if I’ll just open up and let him.

I lift up my head and people are heading over to the communion table. I watch and no, they aren’t drinking each other’s backwash. They’re getting up on their own, going over to the table and dunking the cracker in the juice. Zach signals he’s not going and I decide to do it anyways. I’m eating my cracker and I realize I miss that when Anthony would pray for us during communion. As we would come up and take communion I could hear him murmuring our names, “God, I pray for Zach I pray for Vida.” I know I’m a total sap, but it made me cry every freaking time. Zach gives in, takes communion, and we get ready for the the touching and the praying.

The girl at our table looks at us and asks, “How do you want to do this?” I’m assuming not at all isn’t an option so I just look around and shrug. The other guy at our table leans in and say in his best flasetto, “Awkwaaaaaard.” Likewise my friend, likewise.

So she goes first and sits in a chair and we gather around her, put our hands on her shoulder and back and quietly pray for her. I decide that I’m not going to do it half-assed so I really pray for her. Her week, her family, any troubles, that she feels safe and loved, etc. etc. It feels good and I start to tear up. She gets up and it’s the other guy’s turn. Same deal, family, life, troubles, that he doesn’t feel lonely. It’s Zach’s turn and I pray for him and I have to work really hard not to cry. I pray for his work, and us, and his family, and that he’ll know that I love him and that he’s an amazing husband, and that he’ll feel God’s presence, that he won’t feel alone, and I pray for a million things.

It’s actually kind of awesome and I don’t feel weird at all.

My turn and that does feel a bit awkward. Not because I didn’t like people praying for me, but just because I didn’t know when to get up. There wasn’t a bell that dinged or anything so you just got up when you felt like people were done. Um yeah, that’s enough praying for me, thanks.

So it’s over and the band has been playing this whole time and I’m thinking, that sucks, no one prayed for them. But the pastor then takes over the guitar and plays and asks people to come and pray for the band. Very nice.

The pastor recaps and here are two of my favorite things he said/quoted (which I can tell you since I took notes in my pretty, red notebook):

“…Father of compassion, God of all comfort who comforts us in all our troubles…so that we may comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves received from God…”

” I’ll need something from God that will come from someone else”

He was talking about community and this is a Christian thing I’ve never been big on. It took me a long time to be ok with it in my previous church and I had some pretty thick boundary lines. But overall, I think I took more than I gave in terms of community. It’s more than being in a group or attending a barbecue or helping someone move. It’s also about helping to support them spiritually and care for them spiritually, I shouldn’t just pray for my family and friends, I shouldn’t forget about the other people in my community. Of course lets not forget I have no community right now, but whatev.

The sermon really highlighted for me the next big steps I’m going to need to take to grow spiritually. Obviously on the whole community thing, but it was more of a realization that I’m ready to grow and stretch and it won’t always be comfortable, but I’m ready.

In retrospect, I really liked the way the pastor approached his sermon. He gave us the text, he broke it down for us added some stories and illustrations, went back to the text to reiterate and then had a exercise, a piece of practical application. It worked well because the church was so small (50 ish people I’m guessing) so of course a lot of people already knew each other. It was the most awkward and terrifying moment I’d had in church, but in the end it was good.

I like things that help me grow and I like people who help me grow. The people at the church were super nice, they greeted us, said hello during the mixer (yuck and double yuck), invited us to dinner afterwards, and took my number and called the next day to invite me to a women’s small group.

It was weird after church ended. Everyone was scurrying around, breaking stuff down and hauling equipment off and Zach and I just stood, hoping everyone would stop talking to us. It was really odd not to be in the mix of everything, not to be breaking down, not to be making plans, deciding where to eat. Instead we just nodded our heads and followed someone to the restaurant they all chose. In the end, 85% of the church ended up at the same place for dinner which was quaint, if not a bit scary.

When Zach and I got in the car we just looked at each other and said, “Wow…yeah.” I told Zach my mouth hurt from smiling so much, which was true. He said to suck it up because we still needed to get through diner.

We’re such closed people, it’s trying and cumbersome to meet a new couple, let alone an entire church. We were both exhausted when we got home but we agreed that we liked the church. The praying thing freaked us out initially but once we did it, it was ok.

We liked the people, liked the pastor and it seemed like a real “come as you are” church. Not a, we say come as you are but we need you to conform immediately kind of place. I think we’d fit in well and I really like that fact that’s it’s small. We’re not deciding until we’ve visited the other places on our list, but this one is for sure a contender….

as long as they don’t make me come up for an alter call

or try to heal me

or make me work with the infants.

Tune in later for Church Hunting Phase 2 and a lovely description of a church we won’t be going back to any time soon.

and a t-shirt,

and my green sweater/jacket,

and a pair of winter socks over my regular socks.

What happened to the infamous Santa Barbara weather?  What happened to the 74 degree weather…on average…all the freakin’ year round?

It was supposed to be a high of 64 today and I think it was a little higher, but seriously, 64?

Oh sure, there are palm trees just like they said and the beach is there as promised and there are tropical flowers sprouting up all around me, but those Santa Barbarites…Santa Barbaroans…Santa Barbarians…yep, Santa Barbarians they lied.

And he did.

The first time I saw our new home was when we pulled up in our 26 ft Penske truck, with car and mother-in-law in tow. I was super nervous to see what it looked like, not only because if I hated it we still had to live there, but mostly because even if I hated it I couldn’t really complain.

Zach going and finding our place was just one of the many pieces in the “get Vida to relinquish control” and “get Vida to trust her husband” puzzle. I felt like it was the “strip Vida of all her decision-making abilities” and “give Vida an ulcer” puzzle, but no, I was informed I needed to let Zach take care of things and trust that he’d do a good job.

Whatev.

So here I am, all my worldly possession in hand as I take my first step into our new place and the first thing that hits me is the terrible stench of icky wet carpet. Nice. As I walk forward we have a little entryway and a nice size laundry room. There’s a kitchen with tons of cabinet space, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room, dining area, and balcony.

Wet carpet aside, it’s a nice place and yes, he did an awesome job. Blah blah blah, trust, blah blah, letting go, blah.

It really was an odd feeling to not take care of as many things as I could. He did a ton of research before he went out there and I didn’t. I didn’t spend hours pouring over ads and I didn’t make a ton of calls. I didn’t get frustrated driving all over a string of unknown cities in search of a place my spouse wouldn’t hate. And it was weird, in a nice-ish sort of way.

If asked to list off my issues, I don’t think I’d say “unable to trust my husband.” I feel like I do trust him implicitly but seeing as I had to be forced to let him take care of something, maybe I need to reexamine my definition of trust. Maybe trust is the wrong word? I like to do things myself because I know I’ll do them the way I want them. Does that mean I don’t trust other people?

I’m not sure.

Everyone hates to be disappointed and if you can prevent that, then why not do what you can? I like the way I do things and I like the way they turn out when I do them. Plus, when I do them and something goes wrong, I can only blame myself. Other people aren’t going to do things the way I like them (and we all know any way other than my own would never work) right?

To prove my point here is a list of things unique to my new condo, found and selected by my husband:

• Awesome square footage, even in tiny S.B.
• Great living/dining room layout.
• Quiet complex (minus the rowdy and seemingly transient Mexican population across the street).
• Gorgeous view of the mountains and palm trees from the balcony.
• Vibrant flowers surround our complex and general neighborhood.
• Bike trial starting at our garage.
• Two blocks over and three blocks down from the ocean….the freaking ocean.

So yeah, I moved.

We left the great state of Texas for the great Pacific ocean.

The first thing I did when we crossed into Santa Barbara was burst into tears. Big, heaving, sweet mother what have I done tears.

They were done in a few minutes but nonetheless, that was my first reaction to our new town.

I have about a bajillion things to talk about. Our trek from Austin to Santa Barbara, half of which included me, Zach, and my mother all in the cab of Petey the Penske truck, my first few days here in S.B., the people I left in Austin, and as of this evening, the first church we tried out….where I actually laid hands on a stranger and prayed for him. Yeah, take a moment and let that sink in.

I’ll be posting pretty regularly since guess what… I have NO JOB. My grandfather sweetly told me I was now a bum ( thanks Papa) and my husband now insists he’s the boss since he finally brings home the bacon. Until then, I’ll leave you with:

7 new things I’ve learned since moving.

1. In and Out actually IS what a hamburger’s all about.

2. S.B. is a breeding and training ground for tanned, shirtless, frat boys.

3. Gas varies from $3.93 to $4.39 within a 30 mile radius.

4. Beach cruisers with baskets are actually cool.

5. There is a place where people wear flip flops more than Austinites.

6. Apparently, Austin is the “California of Texas.”

7. The idea of “true love” should never be confined to romantic partners.

Welcome to Santa Barbara, home of sand, sun, and fun……and Zida.

P.S. This is actually where I live, I’ve walked to that baseball field, beach, and wharf.

And while we’re on the subject I’m not too keen on Math either. Thank you Ms. Mease for teaching me all about percentages and “of over is.” But to all those Math teachers who told me, I’d need this stuff “in the real world,” you’re all full of crap, crap and self preservation. Never, never have I ever need the quadratic equation, and those proofs in Geometry…are you kidding me?

I digress. I wasn’t the best physics student. My teacher knew I didn’t care for the class and he used to give problem examples like this, “Vida is standing on the edge of cliff, she picks up Mr. Gant and throws him over the edge. At what rate does Mr. Gant fall?”

Oh, dear sweet Physics dork Mr. Gant. Mr. Gant who is now responsible for my major addiction to Coke. He made it mandatory that I have one every afternoon before his class because he was tired of interrupting his lectures of, “Mr. Gant is riding in the Bat-mobile at 65 mph and, Vida, earth to Vida, hellooooooo Vida?”

One of the few things that stuck with me from Mr. Gant and my Physics experience was the whole, an object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by another force and an object at rest will remain at rest unless acted upon by another force. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

Do I want to remain at rest?

Things are pretty normal at the Forrest y Salazar house. Starting to get the hang of this married thing, settled into my job, Zach’s settled into his job, moved into the new place, finances are going according to plan…mostly. Things are good. It’s nice to come home with nothing to do but watch Burn Notice and Rescue Me. Yes, nice and relaxing. Quiet, calming. Serene. And who doesn’t like serene?

What?

What’s that you said?

Me?

I don’t like serene?

Oh you’re right, I don’t like serene. I hate placid, calm makes me twitch, and no motion makes my R.L.S. flare up.

I like go, I like do, I like whoa nellies I’m so busy I’ve got a bajillion things to do. Where’s my whoa nellies? I have no whoa nellies.

I look at my friends and so many of them are in motion, so to speak. They’ve got big things going on, babies, new careers, moving and I look at them and get this longing, this urge to change something in my life. It’s not that I want the changes they have, I just like the excitement that new things bring.

I think about moving and it’s not that I don’t like Austin, I love it, but I love the thought of going to a new city and starting fresh so much more. My job is ok right now, but I do it, and I do it well. I want something new to challenge me. And babies, well we all know where I stand on that. My maternal instincts are placed in the eats her young classification.

Babies are out and there’s no need to move and I need to stay at my job for another year at least, so there’s this big hole that I’m wanting to fill. I really feel like it needs to be filled in the personal growth department but it’s like something is holding me back. I want to move forward and go through some new things but it’s just not happening right now.

I feel like I’m waiting for a push on the swings and the waiting is driving me crazy because all the other kids are swinging already but I could do it myself if I just started pumping my legs like crazy.

Sometimes it’s easy to fill my life up with little easy distractions to fool myself into thinking that I’m really doing something meaningful.

Today we were having a run through at work for this orientation that’s going to happen on Monday and I had nothing to do while a bunch of people scurried about so I was swinging my leg around. And this one lady looked at me strangely and then I waved my arms around along with my leg and I said, “I’m moving around so it will seem like I’m really busy, do I look busy to you?”

That’s what I’m talking about. I’m an object at rest faking motion, badly faking it. I guess I need to learn to be content at rest, big fat hairy chance of that or I need to shake off whatever is holding me back and get my ass in motion.

It seems like a Kylie Minogue song should be inserted here and fade out

….so come on, come on, do the locomotion with me….

Get it locomotion, an object in motion….no? Too lame? ok, sorry.