I'm pretty grateful for the friends I have made in these last few months.  I've been back in Houston for 3 years now, and it's starting to feel like home again.  I think the larger the city you live in, the longer the time period for feeling a part of things or a part of a family. 

The decisions that made the difference.  I decided to stop going to WTBC and commit to Ecclesia.  I decided to move in with Wendy.  I decided to start opening myself up to people and socialize.  I guess if I'd come to Houston ready to dive into relationships and community it would have happened faster, but it took 3 years for me to want to be known here.  So, maybe it was less the size of the city and more about me?  I think it was both.  I think I just had to get out of Sugar Land...the land of young couples with kids.

Who's Who?

       Olivia Ann Burgess               Olivia Newton John

(in need of a more competitive photo)

Description One

Wears really tight clothes                                                  

Likes to "get physical"         

ruled the 80's                                            

likes to make out with John Travolta on a beach              

wants to remain ageless                                                   

does an incredible hand-jive

Description Two

has great biceps and calves

eminates trustworthiness by her honest, open, and sincere nature

likes to cook her skin for fun

loving and kind in a humble, gentle way

looks like Sarah Michelle Gellar

loves to learn and is open to new ideas

loves, "So You Think You Can Dance?" because her answer is, "only the Chicken Dance at weddings."

Cost of living

Yesterday, I went to my brother's house to help him with his outdoor project, his back porch.  As I rounded the corner of his house, I was amazed at what I saw.  This was no amateur endeavor, but a full-on-Bob-Villa level construction, complete with outdoor waterfall and built-in speakers.  I was so proud of my bro. 

I was thinking as we were working, "my brother and sister-in-law are such yuppies.  they have so much fancy stuff."  All of this thought with quite a critical undertone.  Then I started to think about their week Mon-Fri compared with mine.  They had worked hard all week in anticipation of their weekend project...2 days carved out for them to enjoy their hobby.  I on the other hand, spent my entire week doing whatever I pleased, with no need to anxiously await Friday.  Then, I reasoned with myself, "if that's the cost of having sweet stuff, I'm not paying.  They worked hard.  They paid the price for all this.  It wasn't free.  They can do what they want with the fruit of their labor.  I'm enjoying the fruit of my sacrifice (being cash flow): free time, and they're enjoying theirs: a sweet backyard.  Different work, different pay."

I don't know if this all adds up or totally aligns with my values and beliefs, but it helped to lessen my haughty and judgemental attitude to think of their hard work and sacrifice.  They have really tough jobs that I would never do, nor endure for as many years as they have.

How I get my kicks

I went to a new small group tonight (my former one disbanded for several reasons). 

Per tradition, all the new people have to write their names on a list with phone numbers and birthdays.  I decide to have some fun and write, "August 24, 1955."  Then, to make the fabrication of truth complete, I mentally calculate my current age and to-be age in 2 months (one must take precautions when concocting a good lie...it's in the details my friends...trust an ole' veteran...i shouldn't be giving away my secrets...).

As the list makes its way around the room, I anxiously wait for my scheme to unfold.  Finally, one girl looks at the list and curiously examines my face for wrinkles and my head for gray streaks.   Just to be sure she read it right, she double checks the list and returns her inspection to my face.  We make eye contact and puzzled, she asks, "were...you really born...in this year?"  She's tentative...age is a sensitive subject for woman.  Good for her...playing it safe.  Like a lion over its prey, me, "Yeah.  I'll be 52 this August." 

She looks at me in astonishment.  I'm laughing at this point.  Eventually, I have to spell it out for her (to excuse her, let's remember that she knows not of my sarcastic ways..mwa ha ha...), "No! I look like I'm freakin' 17!"  Glad to have solved the mystery, she exclaims, "Man!  I was gonna say..I hope I look as good as you when I'm your age!"

I sit, my satisfaction made complete.