Lust: A Christmas Tutorial

The youth group has a question box.  You can put a question in and the leaders will take a little time on Wednesday evening to answer it.  Several weeks ago, someone asked if the word lust had only to do with sex.  Pretty good question.

Did I forget to mention that only men are allowed to teach mixed groups of people at our church?

Yeah.

So the person, who answered this, answered in the negative; that there is also a lust for power.  His example, people who run for public office.  Regardless of political party.

That was all.

It has troubled me for the entire time, that he didn’t talk about all the other drives of the flesh that we indulge.

I tried to bring the example of the desire to drive the “then-new-to-me” car on the road between Target and an adjoining suburb.  It features tight curves and ever-so-slight banking in a spot or two.  This vehicle is made to handle well and this little spot of perhaps a half mile is a delightful opportunity to sample that.  Really delightful.

Apparently, that was interpreted as me wanting to brag about the car.

I was interrupted and ignored.

There are a number of kinds of lust.  I avoided blogging it because, they’ll all find out soon enough and it was just me taking it personally.

So, in the spirit of taking it personally, I’m blogging it now.  Because I have a bad case.

You see, I have a cookbook collection.  Not like I am trying to build a library that will be donated for public use when I die.  But to use. Each one has a story and a reason.  I have hard and fast rules for selection, that even I don’t know.  I know when I see them.  I experience a kind of feeling of awe sometimes when I find a certain one.

I digress.

For Christmas, I started a little project.  I bought cookbooks for some kids (5) I love.  They are like nieces and nephews. Sort of.  Thing.

There’s the great used book store here, and I got in the cookbook section and found six (6) treasures.  I can’t decide which book to give which kid.  Because I want two (2) of them for myself.

Two.

Two.

 

Want them.

Both.

Want.

A lot.

So I’m sitting here trying to wrap gifts and looking through the books, especially the ones I want, but then I glanced through the one that was most expensive.  Now, I want it, too.

That’s what made me remember.

Lust.

Desire.

Well-engineered cars,

Cookbooks that take my breath away,

Fine leather goods, like handbags, wallets, belts and…

Yesterday, I was doing a little shopping.

I wanted to buy something for someone who reads this blog.  Who I’m responsible for dressing.  The cost was a little ambitious.  I got a little angry.

Because I wanted what I wanted.  And felt it was out of reach.

Non-essential.

There may have been some pouting.  I’m not scared, though.  Santa and I are on shaky terms right now (it’s another post).

Desire.

I’m not as tired as I was and I think I’m going back.

To be excessive in the essentials.

Lavish.

Soliciting for real connection through some other means.

Please.

Any self-respecting first-world woman, knows I’m talking about boots.

Two pair of size ten black leather riding boots.

Mm.

Mm.

Mm.

And I might buy a hot drink (with some kind of froth or something) while I’m out.

What do you say?  Is lust just a sexual term?  What do you hope Santa will slather all over you this Christmas?

 

 

 

What’s That Noise? What’s That Smell?

November 1.

Y’all know how I get with new beginnings.

Starting now, there is really nothing else going, but holiday planning until Christmas is over.

At my most recent check of the countdown clock, it was 53 days 17 hours 42 minutes and 42 seconds until Christmas.

Which falls on a Tuesday.

Meaning Jan 2 is a Wednesday.

I couldn’t possibly think of a more anti-climactic set up for the beginning of a year.  I will say though, it seems to beg the office to be officially closed on Monday because no one will do anything anyway except eat the Fiddle Faddle and the weird cookies that came in that basket the little hipster sales rep brought.  They’ll “elf themselves” and fwd their wives crap that Dr Sanjay Gupta publishes (WTH, Man?) and sit around on the clock until the boss comes through at 2:15 and says, “Why are you guys still here?”.

Just be closed.

I digress.

I have historically failed to capture the holiday magic.

This All Saint’s Day, I intend to bring the holiday noise, and, while I am at it, the holiday funk as well.

If Pinterest fails to load over the next day or so, that’s me.  If you don’t mind, call the house and remind me to share.

Pinned from The Ivy Cottage Blog

There will be free holiday printables and crafts and so forth.

Mickey has authorized me to purchase holiday decorations for the porch as our neighborhood has a contest.

 

Yes.  You read that right.  Just like in Charlie Brown Christmas. (We are nothing if not literary around here.  I’m the Stephen Crane of moms.)

Which is not to dis’ a Pilgrim, at ALL.

We’ve invited my sister-in-law for Thanksgiving, and I’ve unofficially planned to host a party on Black Friday for those of us who don’t go shopping, to craft and watch The Family Stone.*

This holiday, the noise will be loud; the funk will be the stank of us.

How do you get it started in your house?  How do you kick off the holidays?  What traditions are uniquely yours?

Oh, and…

53:16:27:45

Better get cracking.

 

 

 

*The Family Stone is a movie made for grown up women.  Your kids will just bother you and ask why you are laughing and why you are crying.  Your husband will piss and moan about chick flicks and why couldn’t we be watching the game or the Three Stooges.  Watch it alone or with girlfriends.  Like The Notebook, only with Luke Wilson and therapeutic marijuana.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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