There’s something incredibly sweet,and deep,about a man who prays with you,for you,and about you. Dude,regardless of how you feel about The Man Up There,the fact that a man can tell him about you…it’s bigger than just meeting the folks. That’s some heavy duty stuff right there.

So miracle upon miracles,a company called me back. I’m growing up! World,are you ready? Now get this: I applied for this job in March last year. Yup. Like,2010. MARCH. Like,10 months ago. My blog wasn’t even crawling yet. Lol. So they call us-a few chosen few- back for an aptitude test. I casually don’t think about it. I even consider not going. I mean seriously. A company that calls you back 10 months after the fact,when’s your paycheck gonna come in then?

Anyway. So the morning of the test,I am incapable of dragging myself out of bed. Nothing new there. I snooze for about half an hour before necessity drives me to the shower. Then,I have to decide what to wear. ACK! I’m not the most test/interview-savvy person in the world. The last few interviews I’ve gone in for I was in jeans…or…jeans…the quandary I was in was deep and unforgiving. I glanced at a pair of linens and almost convinced myself that my image could pass those…then decided on straight official-looking pants. Ok,now a top. Good grief,people do this every day? Maybe I should just stay home. (me trying to coerce myself into more sleep) finally,something that hides the funny crotch fit of the only pants that seemed appropriate. What to carry? My usual hippie knit-bag? Or a more demure,professional looking-gag-handbag? The handbag won. My cv? Didn’t feel like. Pen? Check. Notebook? Check.

My hair. I admit,I was afraid. I mean there’s rebellion,and then there’s salary. So,good people. I caved like a spelunker’s dream. I folded like a bad hand. I conformed like a politician. Sigh. I picked up a brush-GASP-and brushed just the tips of my now sprouting dreadlocks. Yeah. I am no longer a rebel. Or rather,I am no longer a good one,lol. Part 2 of this sad tale will be told soon.

tSN