It's love because...

it tests. It strengthens my ability to not be tolerated, to need/want/pray harder than anybody and STILL lose. It forces that dependence back on God, where it belongs, where all love begins.

That's why it's a gift, and not wrong.

And when I get back on Monday...

(it will actually be Sunday). I can't say with one hundred percent certainty the stars will align and I'll be able to justify in my conscience my evening plans.

I love settling in after a hard weekend of staying sober, and cheering on my favorite lesbian roller-racers on ESPN. It's a pleasure I've earned through good debate and conversation, and no longer do I have to defend to my husband that I like MEN, the women are hot but I'm just not interested.

However, if I get even an inkling in my soul that those shorts are too short for my current mood and disposition, I'll have no choice but to pack all the youngin's in the car and head to Cold Stone for slimy ice cream. Does anyone else notice that about Cold Stone? Turns my stomach.

(worked out the possibility, but invest my trust in the divine).

Ignore that parenthesesed nonsense, was supposed to be part of the first paragraph, but I didn't have the heart to delete it. It's just too beautiful a statement to destroy, call me nostalgic.

So, I go. I listen. I pray.