Anybody have the classifieds section?

On my weekly trip to the Stop n’ Shop to get soup supplies, I noticed something a little shady going down. I was walking out with my groceries when a couple of men in translucent pantyhose masks casually walked in, picked up the ATM, and walked out. The cashier started to protest, but I think he decided that it wasn’t worth it. Nobody uses that machine anyways.

This was the first week that I realized what quitting my job really meant. No money. Maybe I should have gotten in on the ATM robbery. I’ve got a fair amount of savings left, but I’m going to need to stop buying a new box of wine every week. I love volunteering at the soup kitchen, but I’m going to need to find a paying job within the next few weeks if I want to keep eating. I wonder what I could do?

Let’s see....

Real-estate? No. Nobody wants to move here.
Waitress? I’m too clumsy. I’d drop plates all over everywhere. I would definitely get fired.
Stripper? Ha.
Cop? Not here. Those cops didn’t even notice the masked thieves loading an ATM into their parking lot.
Cashier at the food vendor place? Nah. I saw Alice Taylor over there doing coke with Pastor Dan and some crazy guy that kept saying he was winning. That’s not my thing.
Desk clerk? Maybe. I’ll think on it.

I thought about scrapping a job completely and going on the road with my clown, but I had to break up with him. I don’t think I can handle all the travel. And I caught him messing around with a hot female fire-breather. Yeah... it was mostly the fire-breather thing.

I’ll need to keep thinking about a job. If anybody has any offers, I’m glad to hear them.

LIFE!

Do you know what freedom feels like? Freedom is the chance to run barefoot through town, dropping the F-bomb whenever I feel like it. Freedom is serving Campbell’s at the soup kitchen instead of making it myself. Freedom is reading any book other than the Bible. Freedom is wearing jeans. JEANS. And T-shirts. Hell, freedom is wearing tank tops that barely cover my naughty parts. For the first time in my life, I’m free.

I thought long and hard about my decision to put my life with Christ on hold. I’m sure it’s not a choice that God would be proud of, and I may one day regret it, but that day is not today. Last week, as I sat in the soup kitchen, horrified that I had somehow jinxed the carnival, I realized that I was stuck. My days consisted of prayer and cooking, and I was slowly losing my sanity. I don’t know if this break will go on for the rest of the week or the rest of my life, but I know that I need to walk on a new path for a while.

My first step in this new path? Going out on a date. With a clown. That’s right, a clown. It was the first date I had ever been on, and it was wonderful. He rode into the soup kitchen on a unicycle and stole my heart. He’s not the type that I would immediately bring home to my mother, but he makes me feel alive. Clowns don’t make much money, and neither do recently-unemployed nuns (I still volunteer at the soup kitchen), so we snuck into the fair after closing for our first date. We ate leftover pickled eggs and corn dogs, with some cotton candy for dessert. We ate  in the bumper cars, some of which were inhabited by other clowns. Brian Bunderson rolled through the carnival a few times as though he were lost, and he acted like he had no limbs. All four were clearly intact, but I wasn’t concerned about his apparent insanity. I was preoccupied by my date.  It wasn’t much, but it was perfect.

A new path?

I think I’m jinxed. The second I talk about how happy I am because of this carnival, it all goes to Hell (Maybe I shouldn’t have said “Hell.” God forgive me). A fire broke out in the food trailer, causing a great ruckus and freaking everyone out. People were running around, screaming words that should never be heard by any God-fearing man or woman. Anyways, it was bad. And I caused it.

I’m starting to believe that I’m not cut out for being a nun.  I don’t like wearing the same blue habit every day, I don’t like telling people that God’s word is the only way, I don’t like being single, and I don’t like having to watch my tongue. It’d be nice if I could just drop a cuss word every now and then like a normal person. Oh ... and nobody liked my cotton candy soup. How can I be a good nun if I can’t even feed good food to the hungry? Maybe I should retire.

Open your arms and welcome the joy of today!

Sun.

Finally.

The wet, slushy mess of almost-snow has cleared out, and I can actually look forward to going outside! People have stopped sleeping in the soup kitchen, and that has given me the chance to sit down and have some time to myself during work. I've decided to use this time to think of some more recipes for the kitchen. I've gotten tired of slicing tomatoes.

My first new recipe is sure to please. It's creative, tasty, and colorful. I think I'm going to win some awards with this one. The secret ingredient? Cotton candy. I guess it's not so much of a secret now that I've told you this, but this is just too great of an idea for me to hide! Soup that doubles as a dessert. Brilliant.

This wonderful idea was inspired by the carnival that has come into town. It's not the most put-together of carnivals (none of the rides could really be described as safe), but I'm confident that God is keeping everyone intact. A carnival is what this town really needed – something fun.

Actually, my best experience so far at the carnival was when the ferris wheel shut down. There weren't enough cars for everyone to ride alone, so I paired up with the sweetest little old woman named Babushka. We didn't really acknowledge each other until the ride suddenly jerked to a stop. Turns out that old ladies aren't huge fans of danger. Babushka was pretty frightened, and let some Russian words skip that I'm pretty sure God wouldn't like very much. I put a hand on her shoulder to show that I was there to help, and she gave me a look of sincere appreciation. My gesture didn't really calm her nerves or her colorful language, but it was the first time since I've been here that I've felt genuinely appreciated. In my months of living here and working myself to the bone, all i had to do was put my hand on a woman's shoulder. Funny.

God has certainly resurfaced in this town. I was at the end of my rope a few weeks ago, but I'm climbing back up now. I don't know if it's the happiness that the carnival brought or the much-needed sunshine, but I'm starting to look forward to everyday here. Let's hope this lasts.