"And the girl that is right for me is waiting to praise the Lord, I've got it bad..."

Thanks goes out to my friend Micah Dalton for crooning those lyrics out to me this morning through a track on Advancement that I've oft overlooked. I have had it on repeat for 20 minutes or so this morning and he's spoken to me this morning--that's how God communicates with me most--through the wisdom of others. Generally in music or through good friends. This morning, it's the mighty combo.

So with that, I will find out soon and very soon if Paulo is as in love with Jesus as I am. If not, ciao, Paulo, ciao.

Here's a little glimpse of my weekend:

Worked late Friday night, stayed up way too late, slept poorly because of going to bed way too late, had a late start on Saturday morning. Went to work at 3 on Saturday for a fun-filled night as Wine Steward. Impressive, eh? I now have quite an impressive knowledge of wine because of TJ's. I'm especially good with food pairings. I, however, don't drink a lot of wine. And lately, I don't drink anything a'tall. But stocking wine and beer all night whilst helping people with their choices was fun. Oh, and it was all that much better to have Paulo there. I shan't go on and on about him anymore until we find out the aforementioned most important information of all. Oh, except to say that during our nightly "huddle" he used the phrase, prepare for this, "But that's neither here nor there." Now, for those of you who put up with my drawn out, often without a point, stories--you know, you KNOW that I use that phrase mighty often. I think we can find love through our common lexicon. That and he loves AC/DC. And baseball. And carne asada. And blue. And loud music. And he drives a blue sports car and I find that endlessly amusing. And I appreciate the fact that he shaves his head because of male pattern baldness. And he's 31. And I make him laugh until he has to leave my presence to gain his composure. And the fact that he said on Saturday afternoon when I got to work, "Man, I really enjoy spending my Saturday nights with you." Oh, right, I said I wouldn't go on and on about him right? Right. I shan't do it!

But Jesus, could you throw this curve ball my way? This one time? Come on? Don't you love being courted with sports analogies? Let's hit this one out of the park. Let's make it home! (And no relation to teenage euphemisms about getting to bases was meant or implied in any of this, I promise!)

Oh. Right. Since I mentioned baseball, Paulo and I have a double date the weekend after next: we're going to a Braves game. I probably should have thought a little more about his salvation issues rather than my desire to see him outside of work. I'll admit my jumping-without-seeing tendencies. I don't date because I get serious. Fast. I'm not about games or serial dating. I'm about permanence. And I know people cringe when they hear that about me. They think I'm being prudish and weird and outdated. But what's the point of spending my precious time and resources on someone that isn't going to be around in X amount of time? Why waste amazing concert tickets on guy of the month when I won't want to look at said photos or hear a live recording of the night because I no longer have a fondness for said guy-of-the-month? That's why I invite the gays. They never let me down ;).

I mean, even if he doesn't love Jesus, well, I can still be friends with him--and I always love more baseball friends. He's more of an American League kind of guy (I mean, I'm assuming since his undershirt and underpants (he was the one sitting in an aisle stocking Onion Noodle Bowls with his underpants hanging out--I wasn't trying to see them, seriously.) bore the Detroit Tigers insignia and other such fan-wear. The double of the double date are a couple that both work at TJ's with us. The male of the double is someone I'm very happy to have as a friend and we very much enjoy working together. He caught wind of my interest and has been giving me hell about it since. But in a funny, supportive kind of way. And I'm not really sure how this double date (ok, it's not ACTUALLY being CALLED a double date--remember, I'm prone to exaggerations) came about, but I'm happy for it regardless. It's just four coworkers headed to a baseball game on a Saturday night. Two happen to already be in a committed relationship, one happens to be the superior ranking officer over the other three and one happens to be ga-ga over said officer. Whatever. It should work out nicely. Pictures are a definite. You, my dear and faithful readers, are going to finally get to meet Paulo in photographic form. Maybe. Maybe that's not such a good idea. Perhaps I shouldn't speak of him so freely on this here inter-net and then out him. I will think more of it and will decide once the time comes. Oh, right, I'm not to go on and on about him. Right. I shall stop. (I'm really good at keeping self-imposed resolutions. Can't you tell?)

Mom wanted to go to TJ's yesterday afternoon (after our trek downtown because she was jealous I ate at Mary Mac's last weekend and she wanted to go too--see, it is from her I learned my love for chicken livers). So, she shopped as I wrote my cereal order. I was looking lovely yesterday, might I say. But that is indeed neither here nor there. And as I was writing I was greeted by a lovely dreamboat sidling up alongside me. He said he missed me.

I was coy. I counted to three.

1. Ginger Almond Granola Clusters: Check.
2. Apple Cereal Bars: Check.
3. Peanut Butter Puffins: Check.

"Oh really? I do have that effect on people." (Please know that although I convey myself as being very literary and confident with my vocabulary skills, I still, at the age of 26 and a bachelor's degree under my belt, have to look up whether I should use effect or affect--see? My honesty is endearing.)

Gah! I HATE games and yet I'm reduced to a bubbly, hair twirling, prone to primping tweenage girl when I'm approached by said interest. But alas, I actually said that. And then he had to walk away, I don't know, to work. I finished my order. I went to the front, I put it back in its binder. And yet I had to find a reason to go to the back of the store. Of course I did. So I went to the back of the room and I caught Paulo mid-bite. We then had some mindless flirty banter on the fact that he said he was eating a leftover half of a panini--and I told him he could have the whole one if he so desired, I mean, we DO work in a grocery store. He was blown over by my wit and comedic delivery (I mean, he should have been, duh.) and then we decided it'd be horrible to work over at the shoe store next door--I mean, what do THEY do when they get hungry? He then wanted to know if I got my Chaco's over there. I did not. Any good relationships starts with Chaco and Merrill love. It's a must, ok?

Man, it's been a long day at work and finally it's time to go to TJ's. No Paulo. He has today and tomorrow off--so you kids are off the hook.

I have very serious things to write about on the morrow. Get your serious caps on, ok?





And because I love it and it played over and over in my playlist this morning, I shall leave you with a devastatingly pretty love song from Micah entitled Disappointed (an odd word choice, yes, but soon you'll get it):

Tell me about the fall
About the oranges and reds

And how you let the poor
Always take precedence

Let me sing for you a song
That tells it like it is

Looks like we found a friend
We've tried to find since we were kids

And I will compare
Everybody's smile to yours
And I will compare
All conversations to yours
But I can't compare a symphony
to a sound, to a sound

You leave me disappointed
You leave me disappointed
With everybody else

So pleased and self assured
That music's not your thing
Somehow got you convinced
I really know how to sing
Everything I tried to find
Was right in front of me

And I will compare
Everybody's smile to yours
And I will compare
All conversations to yours
But I can't compare a symphony
to a sound, to a sound

You leave me disappointed
You leave me disappointed
With every body
With every body
With everybody else