Can I still swear and spit?

I was going to write about weird body parts I’ve seen this week, an apparently reattached ear, a teen with a forehead almost twice the height of the rest of his head. Then I went to church last night and was hit with “I think you’d make a good deacon.”

What the hell?

I was just passing out the stuff from the school fundraiser and chatting with one of the other mothers. I mentioned that I heard the church was looking for new deacons and I wanted no part of that mess. She said, “Well I think you’d make a good deacon.” She proceeded to lay out why she had reached that conclusion. She’s wrong.

I tried to explain how I didn’t want to feel obligated to doing stuff. That it would suck the joy out of it and make it another chore. She said “You’re already doing deacon stuff, you’d just get the title.” Yeah right, and another couple of meetings to add to my calendar, more stuff to freaking worry about, and what if I became like my pastor?

Not that it would be a bad thing to be like my pastor. He’s one of the coolest God guys I know. He actually knows that he is human and that God doesn’t like him better than the rest of us just because he studied God in college. But church on Sunday’s is his job. And man, that’s got to suck the fun out of it. I, on the other hand, am free to get lost in the worship, let my mind wander, even sleep if I feel like it (little princess would probably pinch me).

I told Big princess about the conversation on the way home. She was like, “Do they know you swear and spit?”

I’m not sure Cupcake.