Sure, there are the Big Ones that you already know about (turning 40, getting married, quitting my job, moving to New York, and having a baby), but there are other ones, too.
For example, the Old Me didn't go for many walks, unless A) the dog had to go out, and B) it was before I got a fenced-in back yard. But the New Me walks everywhere all the time! Granted, we no longer own cars, but even if we did, I'd still be a walker.
The Old Me was never stopped and asked for directions, but the New Me is always being approached by German tourists, guidebook in hand, asking how to get to Strawberry Fields. The Old Me never stood in line for cookies, but have often found myself midway in a 20-person line for warm chocolate chip walnut cookies from Le Vain Bakery.
And the Old Me rarely went to church, except on Christmas Eve Morning, when my entire family would meet at St. Peter's, and giggle through the abbreviated service until it was time to have breakfast at the Original Pancake House. But the New Me walks arm in arm with my husband (see paragraph one), usually every other Sunday, to an adorable church six blocks from our apartment.
And it's pretty great.
Dean is the son of a minister, so church is in his blood. I am the daughter of fun-loving non-ministers, so me...not as much. But I really like going to church with Dean. It's a guaranteed hour where I don't have a "to do" list, an hour of time spent right next to my husband, an hour of people watching. And sometimes theres a message, too.
Mostly, though, church is an hour during which I am supposed to be relatively quiet, and THIS is where I fall a little short of what's expected of me. When I am given an hour alone with my thoughts, hilarity ensues.
This morning, for example, I cracked myself up when I saw that the Anorexics Anonymous and the Overeaters Anonymous met at the same time, together. I imagined the anorexics' utter disgust with the "Mike and Molly" overeaters, and the overeaters' shared resentment of the rail-thin anorexics. I imagined all the Saturday Night Live skits that could come from this scenario. And- this is what gave me the Church Giggles- I wondered what sort of refreshments might be served that would be pleasing to both groups. Carrots? Ice? Certainly not doughnuts...?
Later in the service, at an inopportune moment, I leaned over to Dean and whispered, "Nachos." I'm pregnant, and think about food all the time, whether it's mentioned in the sermon or not. (Though, actually, food WAS mentioned in today's sermon, something about Jesus eating broiled fish.) This brought on more giggling.
I know I should behave. I should sit still (hard to do) and keep my very random thoughts and observations to myself until the service is over. I should be respectful of overeaters and old ladies with lighted magnifying glasses, and visiting choir directors who wave their hands all funny. I should be reverent, and NOT try to grab my husband's tush on the way to communion.
But what fun would that be?
I adore you.
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