I'm not exactly a typical female, something for which I am quite grateful. I've had glimpses into what I call the "feminine hive mind" and it frightens me. I hate feminism. I'm pro-life, pro-gun and anti-nanny state. Some of my preferred activities include World of Warcraft and playing Dungeons & Dragons (the offline, D20 version). To the quiet chagrin of my mother-in-law, but the appreciation of my husband, I refused to have the fuss of a 'real' wedding. I like pretty clothes and high heels but feel far more comfortable in jeans and sandals. This does not mean I'm masculine though - I routinely ask my husband to open jars or carry heavy things for me!

There is one area that reveals just how much of a feminine side I do have, though, and that is my taste in books and movies. I'm watching one of my favorite movies of all time - Rodgers & Hammerstein's The Sound of Music. I love everything about this movie - the story, the music, the cast, the scenery, the costumes. There's an innocence and a wholesome quality that is just about entirely lacking from any modern fare. It's beautiful. It's the kind of movie I break out if I'm feeling physically ill or in need of something soothing for my soul. I'm glad I have a daughter and I hope that, whatever type of personality she ends up with, she'll enjoy watching this with me.

They say confession is good for the soul. Well, I've just done something I'm not proud of. I knew it was bad and unhealthy and I did it anyway.

That's right. I ate frosting right out of the container.

What can I say? I'm weak when it comes to sweet tooth attacks.

I have no regrets.

Oh, I have concerns. Serious concerns about things like putting my oldest in public school next fall and the effects working a night shift is having on my husband and his relationship with me and the children. But given a choice between being single and living in Tennessee near my family or being here, in hated Florida with my husband and children, I would choose the latter without hesitation. This is what I wanted. Not the smaller, finer details perhaps, but the bigger picture.

As a teenager, my mother attended quite a few revivals and charismatic-oriented congregations and bible studies. The 'last days' seemed to be a subject on everyone's mind and I developed a morbid, obsessive belief that the apocalyptic events of Revelation were right around the corner and that the world (as I knew it) would be ending very soon. This made me angry. I knew, with my head, that the return of our Messiah is something I should look forward to with joy - but in truth, all I could think about was the fact that my life would be over without ever having really lived it. I felt gypped. I remember griping about this to God in mental conversations - feeling guilty because I just wanted a chance to live a normal life - to grow up, get married and have a family of my own.

Well, here I am. Grown up, married, with a precious family of my own. I'm so grateful that God let me experience this. It's a gift I don't deserve, and I still feel selfish that I want this time with them when I could be eagerly looking forward to the return of my Messiah. But there it is - the world can go on groaning under the weight of its sorrow while I fervently thank Father for my children and cherish the fact that our daughter has reached her first birthday in peace and safety. I know that nothing is certain. I do not know what the next years, or even the next days or hours, hold for me and for my family - but I do know that I've been given time I never expected to have. Despite the snarly, tangled disagreements I have with my husband, despite the depression I've been experiencing, despite the fear I have for the future...

I have no regrets.

Wee. I suppose I should just post a picture of a palmetto bug or a bull ant, the closest thing I have to a pet around here. I'd like to write but it seems like the only things I have to write about these days amounts to whining, and no one likes whining.