Could it be...

So… apparently my most recent blog post went live on August 8th. I’m not sure, but I’m thinking that’s the longest I’ve gone between posts. It’s, like, more than a month!! The truth is, I am experiencing a pretty severe case of writer’s block. Thank goodness I don’t write for a living! I mean, I would if I could, but … then where would I be if I got writer’s block? I suppose I’d muddle through…

Which makes me think I should just muddle through here and write and post something… but what? What have I got to say? Except that I have writer’s block. And that I am afraid that it might be one of the symptoms of menopause. I mean, I know a muddled brain goes with that FUN time of life. So is that why I can’t write? Muddled menopause brain? 

Where are you?!?!?!

And is that why I can’t find my black Chucks? Because I really want to wear them today, and i haven’t seen them in weeks! Muddled brain —> messy house. Of course muddled menopause brain doesn’t explain the mess of the past 10 years….! Plus, I’m not even going through menopause yet. Perimenopause, maybe… 

And if this is what perimenopause is like, that makes me a bit worried about the impending real deal! What’s THAT gonna be like?! Will I burn the dinner, forget to wear pants and be unable to speak in complete sentences? ‘Cos the way it’s going now, that looks inevitable!

I'm probably gonna
need TWO a day...

Anyway, about the writing. Part of the problem is that my brain is fried and I can’t think of any good topics. Is there anything you'd like me to wax prosaic about? Also, if i DO think of a good topic, I write and write but am never satisfied with it, so it never gets posted. Is that also part of the menopause? peri- or otherwise? Is it making you uncomfortable that I keep bringing up the menopause? :-)

Yep.

Today in church we heard the pastor speak about spiritual warfare – that is how the devil messes with us. He (the pastor, not the devil) said – if I heard it correcty – that the devil likes to screw with us where we are the most effective witness. So at the risk of sounding crazy, I'll say that I started to wonder if the devil was taking a poke at my writing. And it might be a valid thought IF I were that effective... and  IF I had a large audience, which I don’t. I mean, if you’re reading this, you are a member of a very small (but non-exclusive) club. I do have more readers for my column in the Chapel Hill News, and that’s been a struggle too, lately. 

Bonus points if you know
why this photo is in here!

That said, I still think I would be flattering myself to imagine that the devil would be worried about anything I might write! Of course, maybe he’s not worried about how many people are going to read what I write, but rather, he just wants to mess with each and every one of God’s children, no matter how small their audience is. Because when he messes with any one of us, he fancies that he messes with God. As if God couldn’t (and didn’t) squash him like a bug. 

Another point the pastor also made is that the devil hates when we get real about his existence. That is, he can do more damage if people think he’s a mythical creature. And what was the last thing I wrote? A blog in which I flat out said, as our friends the Louvins did, “Satan is real.”

You'll have to click on 
the links down there to 
figure out this one.

Perhaps it’s a coincidence that suddenly I can’t write… who knows. It could be stress. Or exhaustion. Or, as I mentioned above, the menopause (I said it again!) But on the off-chance that it’s not any of those things, I’m writing this. And it may not be the best thing I ever wrote, but I’m writing it… in defiance of any poking at me the guy on the ham spread can might be doing. Because I know poking at me is all he can really do... and I can let it get to me, or I can remind myself that "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8) and write some stuff anyway, no matter how lame.

This one too!

I remember one time in a class I was in, they were addressing the topic of spiritual warfare. I guess I’m making it sound like our church is always going on about satan like the Church Lady – you know, finding demons under every rock… but seriously, we’re really not. But when we come to the topic in a natural course of things, we don’t avoid it or gloss over it. And by the natural course of things, I mean, for instance, if the pastor is preaching through a book of the Bible and comes to a clump of verses that bring up ol’ Scratch. In such a case, he’d just give us the low-down instead of pretending the verses aren’t there.

Could it be...

Anyway, so, in this class that I mentioned at the top of the previous paragraph, the teacher said this, or something very much like it: “The devil can’t read your mind, so you have to tell him OUT LOUD to leave you alone.” Remember when Jesus said, “Get thee behind me, Satan”? Like that. Now, I have no idea how this teacher knows this, but I do respect her, and her teaching hasn’t let me down thus far, so I’m just going to go with it. 

So… maybe the devil can’t read minds… but I can’t imagine that words on a page (or computer screen) are a problem for him… as they have been released into the world in some way. So this is my way of giving that sleazy rascal his marching orders. That’s right, you big red jerk, I changed the lock on my front door… so don’t come around here no more.

The Blood is the Life (Red Letter Edition!)

Too many vampires to count!

Okay, so I’ve confessed to a weird fascination with men in kilts, and that was embarrassing… so here’s another one. Vampires. Yep. Not actual vampires. I mean, IF those exist, I’m sure they’re not something I want to know about… I’m talking about literary and screen vampires, of course… Dracula, Edward and Jasper Cullen, Damon and Stefan Salvatore, Angel and Spike, Bill Compton and Eric Northman, John Mitchell, Louis and LeStat… 

…and Matthew Clairmont from Deborah Harkness’s books. He is fine. And these books are sooooo good. I can’t stop reading them. When the last one came out recently, I trekked over to Quail Ridge Books in Raleigh to meet Ms. H. She spins a fascinating tale – about a historian who studies ancient alchemical manuscripts… and just happens to be a witch. She meets the aforementioned vampire and sparks fly. Literally. From her fingertips. 

I know – it sounds about as silly as a book about a modern woman who time-travels to Scotland during the 1745 Jacobite rebellion and falls in love with a hot kilted warrior, but as I said before, I’m all over that one too!

A few of my favorite 
vamps: John Mitchell 
(Being Human,) Jasper  
Cullen (Twilight) and 
Eric Northman – long-
hair version (True Blood)

Anyway, I’ve been trying to figure out why I love vampires in books so much and, well… I’ve not been able to come up with anything…?? Maybe because the ones in the books I read are invariably described as blindingly handsome… Yes, I'm that shallow. Plus, they have superpowers: super speed, super senses, super strength, super sex appeal… And who doesn’t love a superhero? Who doesn’t wish they had super powers?

And, like the kilted warriors in my beloved Highland fantasies, they are dangerous bad-boys… the ultimate bad-boys. Of course if there really were vampires, I’ve a feeling they would look more like Count Orlok in Nosferatu or (at best) Marilyn Manson in full makeup, than Robert Pattinson or Alexander Skarsgard. And drinking blood… ew. But a good fiction writer can make these guys sound like the men of our dreams! A super hot man who thirsts for his lady like a vampire thirsts for blood. Except in this case they’re one and the same. Who doesn't want to be desired so deeply?

But then there’s the question of … is it okay for a Christian to read this kind of thing? And my answer is… Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. 

I mean, the Bible says not to get involved in the occult. In I Samuel 28, King Saul gets in hella big trouble when he consults a medium. Well, I’m not doing anything like that. I have no interest in what a medium might have to say. I’m reading a story. A love story. A ripping yarn. I’m being entertained. And, honestly, when I read a good love scene it sends me straight to the marriage bed… which God loves. The marriage bed, I mean. He’s into that. And so am I.

I wonder if this is one of those kind of things that people have to make up their own mind about – like eating food sacrificed to idols. (I Corinthians 8) Like… it’s not a sin unless you think it is, because idols don’t exist. It only has to do with whether it messes with your conscience. If it bothers you, don’t do it. Of course that might just be my excuse... I don't know...

I met Deborah Harkness, 
who created the sexy vampire 
Matthew Clairmont! There's 
no movie yet, but I picture 
him as played by Clive Owen.

I mean, honestly, I have no problem distinguishing between reality and fantasy. Although maybe atheists would beg to differ...? I mean, what is a belief in God if it’s not a belief in the supernatural? But so far, worshipping one supernatural Being hasn’t proved itself a gateway drug to believing in all proposed supernatural beings, especially those conjured by human pens. 

And truly, I'm not sure HOW I know the difference, I just know that in the actual true story of my life, my soul was dead, my body was nearly dead (undead?)… but now I’m alive. And this is NOT fiction, but my real life. A good writer can write mesmerizing stuff that entertains, but is it true? It may contain truths about love and life, but is it Truth with a capital T?

And to throw a weird wrench into the engine, I DO believe that Satan exists, as our friends the Louvin Brothers taught us. So last night when Tom and I watched an episode of Penny Dreadful where a lady surrenders to the devil, I was a completely creeped out. Why do I believe in one thing and not the other? I guess my measuring device is the Bible… which... some people might think was also conjured by human pens. 

I guess we could sit around and jaw all day about whether or not the Scriptures are inspired by God and if the Bible or God are not your thing, I’m probably not going to convince you of anything because, well, in my experience, you have to say yes to it BEFORE it makes complete sense and sounds like truth. I guess that’s faith… 

I'm thinking if there
WERE real vampires
they might look more like 
Count Orlok from 
Nosferatu or Marilyn 
Manson in full makeup.

Anyway, let’s say the Bible is my plumb line. Is Satan mentioned in the Bible? Yes. Are witches in the Bible? Actually, yes, but they’re not exactly the kind that you read about in your average paranormal romance. Moving right along… Are vampires in the Bible? No. 

Although… In the Old Testament, the Israelites are specifically prohibited from drinking the blood of the animals they killed, “for the blood is the life.” Maybe to reinforce that God Himself was the source of their life? Or to set them apart from the pagans around them whose religious rites involved drinking blood? Whatever the reason, they were told more than once that blood was NOT a suitable beverage for God’s children.

That’s why the top dogs at the Temple were so freaked out when Jesus said THIS: “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them.” (John 6)

The Louvins cautioned us not to
discount the existence of Satan.

Yeah, the Pharisees freak, but it actually seems to me as if they were more puzzled by the logistics of it (“Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves, ‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’ ”) than concerned with violating the law – although I’m sure this came into it as well. I find it odd that those guys couldn’t seem to get a grasp of the symbolic – especially when their whole religion was chock full of metaphors – what with the temple and the sacrifices and all. Or maybe they didn’t like Jesus telling them (in so many words), “Everything you’ve been doing is just a metaphor for what’s happening NOW.” Maybe they thought THEY had the whole of the real thing…? 

But I digress… anyway, Jesus established this “blood drinking” ritual for all time with the institution of Holy Communion at that last supper he had with his friends. “Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” (Matthew 26:27-28)

A famous portrayal of the event where Jesus told
his peeps to (symbolically) "drink His blood."

That’s right. Drink His blood. Because the life is in the blood. So... I started out talking about vampires… which I don’t believe in… and wandered over into a religious ritual involving the symbolic ingestion of blood… which I do believe in… which sort of pushes the question out again – how do I know the difference between what is and is not real…?

It has to do with experience: Again - my soul was dead, my body was nearly dead… but now I’m alive… Heck, I have superpowers! I am strong even when I’m weak, wise even when I’m foolish… I can love with a preternatural love, influence events with prayers, and do all things through Christ who strengthens me. And immortality? Yep.

And we still do it, after a fashion.

It also has to do with faith: To understand these things (as if anyone could) you have to first grab hold of them. Knowing comes AFTER: “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, THEN you will know that I am he…” is what Jesus says in John 8… followed by this: “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. THEN you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (emphasis mine)

And if you find yourself unable or unwilling to reach out for God, tell Him so. That's what I did. I actually told Him to leave me alone! And we see how THAT turned out...!

Excuses, excuses...

This nice blog I read sometimes by a guy named Jeremy Riley featured this paragraph recently: 

Please pardon the lack of posts, I was out and about at a youth program back East and writing quickly jumps to the bottom of the list at a summer camp.  While I was there, I had the distinct privilege to share stories, laughs, activities, and the good news of Christ with middle and high school students for nearly a month.

Bill onboard the camp bus

And I wish I had a great reason like that for all my recent blog shenanigans (or lack thereof): that is, photo-heavy posts, reposts, but mostly not posting at all. But, honestly, I’ve really no excuse. It’s just busy around here. And not with good deeds like working at the soup kitchen or teaching at youth camp like our Jeremy. 

Just why are we so busy? Well… Bill has been in summer camp and for some reason that makes it extra busy around here. Camp pick-up is after 5pm Monday through Friday, which has us running home to make dinner or making a mad dash to a shoe-horned-in guitar lesson... and every other week the camp has a “Family Fun Night,” for which I traditionally make brownies. 

The Men in Kilts – no peeking!

We went to the Whitewater Center in Charlotte, where, unbelievably, the guy who was behind me in the queue for the MegaZipline was one of our neighbors on Pine Cone Drive in Oxford back in the day! We had the Men in Kilts clean out our gutters. It was awesome, but was it like a reverse Hooters? I don't know. I loved it, though! Still trying to get Tom into a kilt! We did the neighborhood 4th of July parade and hosted a family cookout (for which Grace and I scrubbed the house down). 

I'm working with my awesome brothers and sisters and my mom on moving her into the swanky Carolina Meadows. We're trying to strengthen Bill's grasp of Spanish for the coming school year. And in general, we work around the house, run errands, go to shows and to baseball games, have playdates and dinners out. 

Stuffed zucchini... ready to get baked!

And then there’s the farm share. That’s where you get weekly box of fresh veg from a local farm. Now, I’m not a natural cook, so lots of my thought and energy goes into figuring out how to fix all the zucchinis and such. I’ve prepared sautéed zucchini, steamed zucchini, roasted zucchini with tomatoes and onions, stuffed zucchini (stuffing makes anything delicious!), and zucchini bread like my grandmother used to make. It tasted like spice cake but Bill still refused to eat it because it had green flecks in it. 

We’ve had salads as big as your head made from a dozen different raw plants, and I’ve made roasting my go-to cooking method… roasting any and all combinations of produce – potatoes and leeks being the most successful so far. 

Nothing says Happy Birthday America
like kids in a parade!

Plus, I do have work to do… although I could do more. Really. If you know anyone who needs help with graphic design, writing, etc., I’m available. In the meantime, I expend a lot of energy looking for ways to make money and trying not to freak out about the lack of it. God provides – I know He does… It’s hard to wait, though.

That said, I actually DID work on a quite long post about the Psalms, which I'm STILL reading of a morning... but it grew unwieldy, and took no real shape. One of my favorite paragraphs from it went like this:

Psalm 101 begins like so many Psalms do... with praise! Can’t argue with that, right? But then, it starts to get freaky. David, who is named as the author, talks about how perfect he’s going to be – how he’s not even going to look at anything or anyone evil. All the stuff evil people do? Slander? Pride? Deceit? He HATES that crap.

Then I went on to say that 

“...resolving to steer clear of “bad” people… well, this goes against every fiber of my evangelistic being. Don’t the “wicked” need to hear about God? More than anyone! Does a sick man need a doctor? Evangelism is a raison d’etre I take both quite lightly and extremely seriously. I mean, how can I be salt if I’m not let near the food? Or light if I stay shut up in … a room full of other lights? Do you think Paul was worried about shunning evildoers when he climbed Mars Hill and said his piece?”

And really, the rest of it was just rambling. You know how I can get. Blah blah blah… the only other funny thing I had in it was this clip from Craig Ferguson. I love it because 1. I love Craig Ferguson, 2. I love hearing him mock Hollywood peoples’ fondness for plastic surgery and kale, and 3. I was proud that I learned how to add a video to my blog!

Anyway, that’s what’s happening over here. Not sharing the gospel with teens at summer camp or stuff like that… 

Happy Father's Day! (repost)

I’m not going to go deep with this, but in celebration of Father’s Day, I would love to share with you the story of how my husband, Tom Moore, became a father. It’s one of those against-all-odds, almost-didn’t-happen, but obviously-meant-to-be stories…

You see, when we were in our fervent premarital stage I vowed – maybe too loudly – that I did NOT want to have children. It was maybe not too strange a thing to say since first, that’s one of the things you should definitely discuss before taking the marriage plunge, and two, I was thirty-nine, closing in on forty, and Tom was forty-three. My logic was simple: I did not enjoy my childhood and was totally messed up. I was scared to do the same to any offspring I might produce.

You know what Tom said? “Me neither. No kids for me!” Because that’s where we were at that time. Falling all over ourselves to agree and please each other. So that was that… for a while. We tied the knot, started making our way in the world as a Mr. and Mrs… Until… I don’t know, a couple of years later when I started to notice babies everywhere I looked. Especially at church.  Peeking over their parents’ shoulders, sleeping sweetly in a sling, crawling on the slate floors of the sanctuary, voicing their discontent and being removed to the cry room… And I don’t know if you realize this, but those little guys are CUTE.

I learned just yesterday that what I was experiencing has a name: it’s apparently called “baby lust.” And I did have it bad. So… I sort of hinted around to Tom that maybe having a baby wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and he hesitantly agreed that, no, it might not be completely horrible. I now know that inside, he was saying “YES!!!” and doing an extended touchdown dance.

So, we decided to see if God was on the side of this crazy semi-reluctant dream… We weren’t exactly TRYING… it was more like we weren’t NOT trying! Of course in the back of my head I acknowledged that as 41-year-old former anorexic, I probably wasn’t very likely to get pregnant at all… so I really wasn’t risking much.* Turns out that, like so many other times in my life, God was of a different mind… and at the close of the very first month, when I peed on the stick… well, there was definitely a plus sign on it. 

And Tom went nuts! He bought outdoor paint in primary colors and painted the natural wood play structure and sandbox that came with our house. He ceded the most comfortable TV chair in the house to me every night. He took me to New York City for a last hurrah. He participated in childbirth classes. He designed the nursery. He bought toys…

Of course the toy-buying was nothing new. While Tom is a responsible adult in the ways that count, he is also quite young at heart… and ever since he saw that plus sign, he’s been over the moon.

On May 4, 2004, when the doctor pulled that squirming mess of a baby out of my belly Tom cried. He loved that wriggly mess. He loved Bill as a baby, but was more excited for him to grow into a playmate. And this child has been his fondest friend, his merriest companion, his partner in crime, and his most pressing concern.

I can't begin to understand how God feels in any way about anything, but i feel like as a parent I get a whisper of the why of our creation.... like maybe He made us just to be with us... He loves having us around and teaching us what He knows and having fun with us. 

Parenthood is fantastically rewarding, but a hard row. And my man is hoeing it with aplomb, my friends. He makes the tough decisions and is on top of the follow-through. Of course, there’s always something we could be doing better, but… so far so good, right?!

The Outakes

It's no secret that I love babies. I'm sure I creep out perfect strangers with the attention I pay their sweet little cherubs. Babies are the best. If you put a photo of a baby on Facebook I will most certainly "Like" it. And I loved this completely hilarious collection of terrible baby photos.

When I saw these I laughed and laughed. Most of the photos of babies and kids people post on FB are of beautiful wide-eyed perfect pink-lipped cupids. I am guilty of this too, but the truth is that not every photo you take of your baby is going to be fantastic. That said, once I resolved to share with you some of the more hilarious "bad" pics of Bill with you, I started scrolling through our huge library of pics of nothing but our baby, and 95% OF THEM were nothing less than cherubic. Our kid is super photogenic, and super cute. Not that I'm biased or anything, but most of his pics are at least as beautiful as this:

Anyway, while he is a supermodel in most photos, there are a few bloopers... and here are some of ours, in no particular order (and let it be noted that I got tired of looking through the gazillion photos at around the 2008 mark):

Why, yes – I WILL have an order of cheese with my book!

A scene from the upcoming Starz
series, Outlander... featuring
gratuitous shots of men in kilts...

Here’s some embarrassing stuff… I’m completely addicted to something you probably don’t even know exists! It’s a genre of “literature” called Highlander Time Travel Romance. Well, I don’t know if that’s the official name of it, but that’s what it is. Romance novels about people who get transported to another period of Scottish history and meet big burly, super-buff Highland warriors. I know – super cheesy!

I guess the time travel element is because a modern gal such as myself won't find many kilt-clad Scottish warrior types in the present day... and I’m not sure why kilted Scottish men seem so exciting – maybe because something in my Scottish genetics is drawn to them? Is it because they’re “bad boys”? After all, the Romans did wall off Scotland because its inhabitants were particularly violent. Much easier than trying to conquer it! 

...AND shirtless men in kilts!

Anyway, the granddaddy of this genre is Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander. This baby is a hefty read about Claire, a WW2 nurse who gets sucked back to Scotland in 1743 or so - just before the Jacobite rebellion. The characters, history and descriptions of everyday stuff are great – especially how she tries to fashion modern remedies from the materials at hand – but what really revs my rocket is her new BF Jamie — a tall, handsome, strong, red-headed, smart, funny, kind dude – IN A KILT. Nothin’ hotter. 

This is the wall the Romans
built to keep the Scots out!

They have adventures; they fall in love; they have sex. It’s an addictive read. Thank goodness there are so many of them. It just keeps getting more and more interesting as they come to America, settle in North Carolina (where I live!!) and participate in the war of independence. I can hardly wait for the next one to come out - JUNE 10, 2014!!!!!! Nor can I wait for the STARZ series premiering in August!

Of course I prefer my books to be well-written and chock full of historical details and well-fleshed out characters, as Gabaldon's books are, but… I’m not terribly picky. In pursuit of a bracing, lusty read, I’ve devoured many a bad-to-mediocre tome. Fortunately there are other authors who do a fair job of it. Karen Marie Moning writes books involving chiseled Highland warriors AND fairies! I love fairies! Oddly enough, her fairies are also perfect, beautifully-muscled guys as well. 

“...his lips were pink
and firm and
sensually full.”
Of course they were.

Here’s a description of a guy from one of her books: “He had the sculpted physique of a professional football player, with wide shoulders, pumped biceps and pecs and washboard abs. His hips beneath her were lean and powerful.” And of course, his face is “savagely beautiful” with “dominant male virility.” That’s right. “Black lashes swept his golden skin, beneath arched brows and a silky fall of long, black hair. His jaw was dusted with a blue-black shadow beard; his lips were pink and firm and sensually full.” 

Yes. That’s exactly what it says in Moning’s Kiss of the Highlander. And I read this crap. How many men do you know that warrant this description? Not many. It actually has occurred to me…. “This is ‘man porn.’ ” I mean, it’s not gross porn like you pay for on the computer, but it does sell an unrealistic picture of men. It’s a good thing guys don’t read these books. I hope they don’t anyway. They might get complexes - like women do when they see skinny models in fashion magazines. Or like I do when I read the description of the perfect woman in Proverbs 31.*

Two of my favourite things:
Liam Neeson. A kilt.

In addition to looking like male models wrapped in tartan plaid, these guys sweep the heroines off their feet and into their velvet-curtained feather beds, loving them FOREVER with a gusto that would be quite difficult to maintain over the long term. I guess if the books were longer we might see the couple settle into a more comfy, sweat-pants kind of relationship... The Outlander books actually venture into this territory... at a certain point Jamie and Claire become grandparents and purchase spectacles in Edinburgh. But for the most part, that’s not what this genre is about. It's about Highland adventure and rescuing and romance and fresh-smelling**, well-choreographed love-making that satisfies everyone completely EVERY TIME. Sometimes several times in a row!

Even when the text points out a man’s flaws, it’s something dumb like … he’s tone deaf, or he doesn’t know how to wink. Or maybe he’s too bossy and treats women like … well, like a man from whatever century he’s from. But even then… well, apparently some women crave the dominant male – these books exist, after all. (And I’m reading them…?!) 

Somebody PLEASE
put a kilt on this guy!
(Not that he needs it to
tickle my tartan...!)

That said, if my husband acted toward me as if he were from the eighteenth century, we’d be seeking counseling and FAST! And since we’re talking about my husband - well, he could actually pass for a Highlander. Though not exactly chiseled (who is these days?), he’s fairly fit, and an imposing figure of a man – 6'2", red(dish)-headed and ruddy complexioned. Put a kilt on him*** and you’ve got a bruiser straight outta these books – and full of strength and honor and loyalty and justice and protective instincts. But... I guess his uncut body qualifies him as more of a side character – one of the hero’s trusted companions… or maybe he's our hero once the lovers have relaxed into the comfy, sweatpants phase of the relationship. 

And that’s just fine with me! ‘Cos that’s where we are! And you know what? I love sweatpants! Especially this lovely soft, comfortable, cozy, worn-in-all-the-right-places pair! Not that it’s never romantic and sexy – because it actually is...**** But it’s also sublimely real in a way that these books just… aren’t.

We might be comfy like that
perfect-fitting pair of sweats,
but we've got a good 
amount of fire, too!

*On my last read-through of Psalm 45, I wondered if the impossible guy it commemorates is the men's corollary to Proverbs 31.

**The men in these books are usually described as smelling like different combinations of the following: sunshine, whiskey, leather, horses, musk, sweat, heather, grass, fresh-tilled earth, etc. And even if they smell like horses and sweat, the heroine finds it appealing! Huh? I personally love a dude who smells like himself and Dial soap.

*** PLEASE put a kilt on him!!!! That is a sight I wouldn't mind seeing!

**** 'cos you know, you can wear sweatpants really low down on your hips, right?