The entire time I was in college, I never went on a Real Date.  Sure, I went on dates (emphasis on the lowercase “d”).  Dinner out with a guy “friend” who said we should “hang out” and ended up buying the meal because “I’d never let a girl buy a meal.”  But never a Real Date.

And, if you want to know the truth, it always bothered me.  I wanted the Real Date, the fairytale date… the Date that screams “Yes, I am 23 years old and I am normal!”  Deep down, I think every girl wants to have one night where she feels like there is something special about her.  I spent many Friday nights helping roommates pick out which necklace to wear and opening the door when their date would show up.  But I never got that night.

Well, that is, until tonight.

I present… My List of Reasons Why Tonight Was Perfect:

First of all, he called it a date.  Not “hanging out.”  Not “getting together.”  No pansy stuff here.  I liked that.

Secondly, he opened my door.  This may sound like a given when on a date, but trust me, it isn’t.

Thirdly, he took me to the sweetest little restaurant you can imagine.  Think Italian food, handful of tables and candlelight.

Fourthly, he led the conversation.  And yet still asked me questions.  And actually listened to my answers.

Fifthly (is that a word?), we had coffee after the meal.  It was my first time ever having coffee.  No kidding.

And so, it was lovely. 

I, of course, immediately drove to my friend Allison’s house where we spent the next hour discussing each and every part of the evening and WHAT DID HE MEAN WHEN HE SAID THIS and ARE YOU SURE MY HAIR LOOKS GOOD and so forth.  Her boyfriend, Ryan, played the Good Boyfriend Role and sat there listening silently for the most part.  Occasionally he’d offer up something profound like “Well, make sure you give it a few days to see if he calls.  It’s like a guy rule, you know.  He probably won’t call you tomorrow.”

To which Allison would reply “Oh, he BETTER call her tomorrow.”

And I would reply “I don’t think he will.”

And then she would say “Quit saying that, you always say that, you’re always wrong.”

And then Ryan would say “Wait, I thought this was her first real date in awhile so how can she always say that?”

And then Allison and I would glare at him because?  Umm, Ryan?  No need to point out unnecessary details.

Once the fateful “will-he-call-again-or-was-this-just-a-nice-dinner-oh-my-goodness-what-is-going-to-happen” conversation got riled up again, Ryan created a diversion by mentioning that he was leading a music critiquing session tomorrow morning (he’s a worship pastor at a local church). 

I, of course, immediately stood up and sang several songs to give him practice.

He was, I think, a little harsh.  But he did say my hair looked nice and that I had good stage presence.

A fairytale night indeed.

Today’s Friday’s Face is none other that the beautiful Kate.  You’ll see very quickly why we call her “Kate with a K!”  Or, Kate con K, when we’re feeling all Espanol-like.

Which is rare considering that most of us in Starlite are still trying to master the English language. 

Ahem.  With that painful admission, I now proudly present: Kate with a K!

Kate.  I love your name.

Thanks!  I went by Katie until I was in 8th grade. I had moved across the country and changed schools, so I decided to change my name a little bit.  I thought it sounded more mature.

It does.  Don’t you think it is kind of weird that we have a Cate, a Kate (you, obviously) and a Katie all on Leadership Team?  And then, I have a roommate named Katie!  AND, we have a whole lot of volunteers named Katie.  What do you think about this?

I think you should consider yourself lucky to know so many fabulous people!  :)  I know it makes it a little tricky at times, but I don’t think the world will ever have enough of us!

I have a new Friday’s Face game for us to play.  It is called “Fill in the Blanks.”  Are you up to the task?

I’m always up for a challenge!

I, Kate, became a part of Starlite because __________________.

All the cool kids were doing it.  Just kidding, of course!  I actually had some friends involved in it and was able to see all the things they were doing for the girls in the community as well as for each other.  I loved the mission of the ministry and really wanted to be a part of it somehow.

If I ever have to _______________ again, I’ll probably quit being a part of Starlite.

Stick my face in a bowl of flour to dig out saltine crackers using only my mouth in front of a huge audience of laughing middle school girls.

I can’t believe I had forgotten about that!  I love the fact that you were wearing a shower cap while you did it.  Okay, onward we go: my “job” in Starlite is __________ which means I _______________________.

Assistant Director at a Sparkle program at one of our middle schools.  And, it means I get to teach a lesson to the beautiful 8th grade girls there every Thursday afternoon.

I love my ____________________.

Easy-tip calculator on my cell phone.

Because _____________________.

Even though I get made fun of every time I pull it out, I just love how convenient it is for figuring out the perfect tip to leave at a restaurant!  It even has a feature where you can figure out the entire bill when you’re splitting a meal with several people.  It is incredibly cool.

Game over.  You win!  Now, for another question: for some reason, I imagine that you have a wild side that comes out in the middle of the night in your dorm.  Is this accurate?

It might be… I seem to really come alive at night.  I do get a little crazy at times, but I just remind myself that this is what college is really about, right?

What annoys you?

Bad grammar, whistling, when people drive down the grocery store parking lanes in the wrong direction, have a speck of food stuck in my teeth for hours while no one tells me about it… you know, that sort of stuff.

You’re studying to be what?

A public relations professional.

That was my undergrad major!  What’s the number one thing you look forward to about being a grown-up?

Seriously?  The shoes!  I look forward with great anticipation to the day when I show up to my office in a fabulous pair of stilettos.  To me, a great pair of shoes screams success and confidence.

Quick: your favorite moment in Starlite.  Discuss.

My favorite moment would probably have to be my interview process to get on Leadership Team.  Is that weird?  I just felt really grown-up.  And I was taking that step to put myself out there for something that I really wanted to achieve.  That is not something that I had usually done in the past, so I felt really proud of myself for making the decision to open myself up for either success or disappointment.  I treated it like a learning experience for my future, and I knew that no matter what the outcome was, it would only make me stronger and more confident.  Not to mention, I met some of the nicest and greatest people that day!

Advice you wish someone had told you when you were in the 8th grade?

I wish someone would have convinced me not to dye my hair red.  Don’t ask me why, but I had wanted auburn hair my entire life and I chose 8th grade as the year to try it.  Bad choice.

I am ever so sorry to interrupt you from reading all about my hair, but I have a VERY important question to ask you.  

And by “very important question” I am, of course, alluding to the fact that I am about to ask you about my hair.

You’re welcome.

Here is the situation: That Boy called tonight to finalize our plans.  Originally when we first planned this little meet-up, it was going to be a coffee date.  However, I have somehow just hung up the phone with plans to go to dinner with him tomorrow night.

Oh interlings.  WHAT am I going to do?

If you’re new to MinSoFab, you might be extremely lucky not know the whole story and be unable to see the OBVIOUS problem I am faced with solving in less than 24 hours.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FIX MY HAIR?

It was all so simple when it was just a coffee date.  My college cuties spent the better part of 30 minutes debating how I should wear my hair (up and curly), what I should wear (definitely jeans) and what we should talk about (”You may not want to mention that you have a blog, Amy Beth.  Or, you know, that you’ve written about him.”). 

(Too late.)

(No, unfortunately, I’m not kidding.)

(And, according to an email from him earlier, he finds it rather hilarious that he is being referred to as That Boy.)

(Thank God for miracles.  You know, that he still emailed me.  Oh and that he isn’t upset about being That Boy.)

Ahem.  I obviously can’t wear JEANS now that we’re having dinner so this throws my entire HAIR WARDROBE PLAN right out the window.  People, I can run a ministry but I CANNOT HANDLE THIS TYPE OF STRESS.

So, with all my college cuties off on spring break (ya’ll should have stayed for classes tomorrow… I’m just sayin’), I beseech you to help me. 

Vote your conscience, interlings.  Vote your conscience.

It is the moment you have all been dreading waiting for… I shall now answer your questions about our ministry my hair. 

And, just to keep you interested, I included a couple of questions that came in about Starlite.

But just a couple.  I wouldn’t want our priorities to get out of order.

And so, here we go.  Hold on tight:

Anna asked “So… what kind of shampoo do you use?” 

Well, Anna, it depends on how I’m planning to fix my hair for the day.  Obviously, if I’m going for the full and bouncy look, I’m not going to reach for my bottle of “Sleek & Shine.”  I’m going to go straight towards whatever features any version of the word “amplify.”  Occasionally I will also lean towards the word “volume.”  Depends on how big I want my hair that day.

Jenelle asked “And what kind of body wash?  And perfume?”

I use Dial antibacterial body wash in whatever scent I last chose at Wal-Mart.  I know you were expecting to hear something else, but I have this thing about my body wash — it has to be antibacterial.  Wild, I know.

When it comes to perfume, there’s only one man for me.  You might know him as Ralph Lauren.  He created a little scent called Romance and I’ve been hooked ever since.  Of course, it might also be that I am just trying to create a little faith in action. 

Name it and claim it, interlings.  Name it and claim it.

Moving on: Todd wanted to know how long I spend on my hair each morning.

What I’d like to know is how long Todd spends on my blog each day.  The answer though (to my time on hair, not Todd on bloggy) is about 15 - 30 minutes.  Or, you know, however long it takes to scrape it into a ponytail on busy days.  Same thing, right?

Andi asks “What is your favorite Saturday morning cartoon?”

Oh this is a hard one, but I’m going to have to go with those Secret Slumber Party Sister girls.  I don’t know the actual name of the show (because it is, like, 18 words long) but I do love anything that involves slumber parties.  If that’s not on though, I have been known to watch Hannah Montana quite a bit.  And no, I’m not ashamed to admit it. 

I will, however, refrain from telling you how many of her songs I sing while in the shower each morning.  Ahem.

Brandy T. brought the whole questions thing to a new level with the following PARAGRAPH of questions regarding my hair: “Tell us all about your hair regiment.  What products do you use?  Are there Velcro rollers or hot rollers or both?  Curling iron?  Blow dry upside down or right side up?  Mousse?  Spray?  Conditioner?  Stay-in or wash out?  How long does it take?  Do you do it all in the morning or some the night before?  How often do you wash?  Tell us your secret(s)!  We want to know how to get that HEIGHT!”

Oh Brandy, sweet Brandy.  Just reading through that paragraph makes my heart race (so many excellent hair questions!) and yet feel a sense of accomplishment.  I had always dreamed that my life would count one day… that our sweet Lord could use me to impact lives. 

Or, you know, hair.  Same thing. 

I fear I cannot answer all of your questions as people would quit reading this blog we don’t have enough time.  However, I believe we all know that pictures are worth a thousand words so I gathered up my hair care posse this morning and had them pose for a picture.

Aren’t they just the cutest things you have ever SEEN?!?  We’ve got Mr. Orange Bucket with all of the items I’ll need if I’m in a “big hair” mood.  On the other side is Mrs. Blue Bucket in case I’m feeling calm and in need of straight hair. 

Please note that I did not say “flat” hair.  I want flat abs, not flat hair.

In the middle you’ll see Miss Green Basket.  She only comes out when I’m feeling wild — also known as curly hair days.  And, she’s still a “Miss” because she’s young and wild and free… unlike Mrs. Blue Basket.

Rounding out the picture we have two of my sets of hot rollers (I have another couple of sets, but they didn’t fit in the picture).   I also have Velcro rollers, but they’re currently all over my bathroom sink and I wasn’t all that inclined to gather them up for you.

Now, for a little behind the scenes photo information for you.  After I took this photo, I stepped back and said — yes, actually said — “Something is missing here…”  In a matter of seconds, I realized that I was missing the one thing that my hair cannot live without. 

I like to think that it was on top of my jewelry box because it doesn’t have a home in a basket.  How could it when it fits in wherever it goes?  And so, I took another picture because I didn’t want it to feel left out:

That’s much better.  All my little friends in one happy photo. 

Okay, it is time to talk about something other than my hair mix things up a bit.  How about Starlite?

Big Mama asks “I would like to know why you started Starlite and what are your plans, hopes, dreams for the future.”

I need to do a full post about this sometime, but the short story behind why I began Starlite is that while I can’t change a lot of things about my own childhood and teenage years, I can help to change those things for others.  Short and vague, I know but it is the truth.  I never, ever, EVER expected it to be what it is now and I’m certain that if someone from the future came and told me today what is up next for us, I’d laugh.  And then maybe cry, especially if they mentioned that more processed nacho cheese is in our future.

As far as the future, I feel like we’ve just now found our “bearing” if that makes sense.  We feel certain we’ll stay with the three avenues of ministry we currently offer — Twinkle, Sparkle and Glow — which allow us to serve girls in grades 3 through 12.  I don’t really see us going earlier than 3rd grade but it will be interesting to see what we do as our first set of girls enter their senior year of high school this fall.  Several of them have made plans to attend the University in our town so that they can stay and become Starlite volunteers.  While we don’t have a “program” for our college girls, I can easily say that I spend over half my time working/ministering/laughing at them.  So, when I think about Starlite, I always think about it being a ministry for girls from 3rd grade on through college. 

We have been very blessed to have been given several opportunities for growth as far as the extension of our programs.  We’re in all of our local middle and high schools and will add the last couple of elementary schools this fall.  So, our next expansion will naturally be in another town.  The hard part will actually be deciding where to expand to; we have several surrounding school systems that have approached us to bring the programs into their schools. 

To be honest, it is really a matter of raising the money to support the programs and to add more staff.  We are incredibly blessed with a huge team that volunteer many hours each and every single week to make sure our office and programs actually work.  But we are also all very aware that we need more regular help.  We’re hesitant to expand any further until we have that in place as we don’t want to do things without excellence.

And believe me, we currently serve that processed nacho cheese with a level of excellence that you would only expect out of people who have spend five years perfecting the art. 

Amanda asked “What have been your highest and lowest moments in ministry so far?”

What a great — and hard — question.  I think the lowest moment in ministry — from my perspective, at least — have been the times where it has been brought to my attention that certain people in my life aren’t in love with the idea of me doing this with my life.  The biggest misconception that I deal with is having people believe that everyone who surrounds me is just SO excited that I want to do ministry with my life.  That couldn’t be further from the truth, but to be fair, it sure has taught me a lot about not seeking the approval of man.  Especially when that ”man’s” approval is that of the people you love the most and so want to be proud of you and what you’re doing with your life.

The highest moment in ministry for me so far would probably be this one time in the frozen food aisle at Wal-Mart when a high school girl came up to me and asked if I was the girl from Starlite.  When I said that I was, she put her purse on the floor and grabbed me as tight as she could.  She and I stood there next to the frozen pizzas while she cried and cried and cried.  When she quietened, I asked her why she was crying and she told me that God had literally saved her life when she came into our middle school program.  When she was done, she calmly picked up her purse and walked away. 

I, of course, stood there for quite awhile.  And then, I put a frozen pizza in my cart and headed to the next aisle.  And, I suppose you could say I was hooked on ministry from that point forward.

Big Mama had another question: “Was your date able to reschedule due to your flu infestation?”

Surprisingly (at least to me), he did ask if we could reschedule.  I, of course, ran frantically into my roommate’s bedroom saying “HE TEXTED ME, Katie, he TEXTED me.”

Umm.  It obviously doesn’t take much. 

And with that embarrassing admission, I think we’ll end today’s Q & A session. 

When I posted yesterday asking if the interlings had any burning questions for me, I was afraid no one would actually respond. 

I did not, however, begin to imagine the questions that would pour forth from you.  Or, you know, that they would be primarily about my hair.

But, lest you think I am ungrateful for your questions, you should know that I have thought about them throughout the day.  Granted, I’ve really had nothing else to do unless you count all of my infomercial watching. 

Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you about it.  But, for three easy payments of $19.99………….

In all seriousness, you didn’t just ask about my hair.  A few of you also commented / emailed to ask if That Boy had rescheduled our date. 

And yet I’m not going to answer that question in this blog post.  Because I need a reason for you to actually come back tomorrow, you see.

And somehow, I don’t think my infomercial reciting skills are gonna bring you back. 

Even though I graduated from college this past December, I still get the mass emails that go out to students. 

I feel so old.  And yet, I’m not.

Anyway.  I recently got an email explaining that the school would be offering free assistance to those students needing help filing their taxes.  After listing the times and locations where help would be available, I found the following poorly constructed sentence at the very end of the email:

“You never know this could be the place where you will meet your soul mate and not standing in line for registration!!!”

Well said, my email-er who needs help with grammar and punctuation.  And, apparently, with helping us all find our soul mates.  Well said.

Hello.  It is currently 7:56 a.m. in my lovely area of the world.  I woke up at 4:30 a.m. this morning completely unable to go back to sleep.  This is not the funnest time of my life.

Is funnest a word?  If not, can I blame it on the medicine or is Cate going to start making fun of me again?

In fact, and I can’t believe I’m about to actually admit this on the bloggy, but I actually went downstairs and got my roommate’s DVD of Celine Dion: LIVE and watched it for the last two hours.  And I couldn’t even sing along.

A few minutes ago, after once again checking my site counter to see who has popped in from Australia, Italy and, of course, Cleveland (Tennessee, not Ohio), I came up with a plea for you plan.  We shall call it:

“Send me your questions.  Stat.  Please.”

Now, I’m well aware that I may get no questions at all.  But, in light of the fact that I have no productive thing to do with my life for at least two more days, I figured it was worth a shot.  I’ve been getting a few questions in the comments and through email from those of you who we don’t actually know in real life.

So.  Do you have any burning questions about Starlite or the bloggy or well, anything that just can’t wait one more second?  No?  That’s what I thought.

But could you make some up?  Please?  It’ll give me a sense of purpose again.  Because right now, I’m about to turn on the Game Show Network and I think we all know how badly this could end.

Here’s a couple of ways you can send them in:

1. Leave a comment on this post.  If you’d rather me not know who you are, just give yourself a fake name and fake email address.  If you’re mean, I’ll delete you.  And yes, dad, that goes for you, too.

2. Email your question to me: amybeth  AT  starliteministries  DOT  org. 

Got it?  I’ll wait a couple of hours day or two and then try my best to answer your questions in one glorious post.

Or, I’ll just continue to watch “Let’s Make a Deal.”  You, my bloggy friends, shall define my fate for today.

And all the people said amen. 

I am quite ashamed to admit that the following actual dialogue took place in my doctor’s office this morning.  It is important to note that Dr. Mike has been my physician for almost six years — so, he knows me pretty well.  And, apparently, feels that he is my very own personal date police.

Ahem.  Read on, if you care dare.

Dr. Mike:  You’re sick.  Still.

Me:  I know.  I need some medicine.

Dr. Mike:  Yes, but you also need some rest.  Did you stay home last week like I told you?

Me:  (Silence.)

Dr. Mike:  That’s exactly what I thought.  Well, you’ve caught yourself quite the virus young lady.  You’re not doing anything for the next three days.

Me:  So, I can go back to work tomorrow?

Dr. Mike:  No.  Let someone else run Sprinkle.

Me:  It’s called Sparkle. 

Dr. Mike:  Oh, yeah.  Sparkle.

(Note: This happens more often than you’d believe.  In fact, one of our local middle school principals still calls the program Sprinkle.  I know we have some silly names for our programs, but people?  Sprinkle?  Really?)

Me:  Well, I have somewhere I have to be tonight.

Dr. Mike:  You’re not going.

Me:  Actually, I think I am.

Dr. Mike:  What is it that’s so important?  Are you going on a date or something?  (Insert chuckle.)

Me:  (Awkward silence.)

Dr. Mike:  Seriously?  Were you really going on a date?  (Uncontrollable laughter.)  (From him.)  (Not me.)

Me:  Yes.  And I’m still going.

Dr. Mike:  No, no you’re not.

Me:  What is WRONG with you?  Do you not understand what I’m trying to tell you?  This is a date.  A real, live date.

Dr. Mike:  (More laughter.)

Me:  If I cancel it, he may never ask me out again!

Dr. Mike:  Well, if you don’t cancel it and stay at home for the next few days, I can pretty much assure you that you’ll be in the hospital by Thursday.

Me:  Really?

Dr. Mike:  Yep.  And I don’t think you want to be there.

Me:  Depends.  If I agree to let you put me in the hospital, can I go on the date tonight?

Dr. Mike:  No.

Me:  (Angry stare.)

And so.  No little third grade girls this afternoon; roommate is filling in for me.  On a positive note, if she doesn’t make it out alive, I can have her collection of headbands. 

And, no getting on top of stuff at the office.  No productive Monday.  Or Tuesday or Wednesday for that matter.

And, worst of all, no first date with That Boy tonight.  After he hears what my voice sounds like on the voicemail I left letting him know I couldn’t make it, I’m fairly sure he’ll start to think he was asking out a deep-voiced man and decide not to call again.

Well, hate to sign off so quickly but I’ve got hours worth of bad daytime television to watch while wondering if I had made the right decision to wear my hair curly for tonight’s now non-existent date.  Should I have worn it straight?  Is God trying to tell me something?  More importantly, can I get a do-over?  I’ll choose straight this time, I promise!

Just give a girl her date back, for goodness sakes.

Three things that are on my mind this Monday morning:

1. I’m headed back to the doctor’s office this morning because I just can’t shake whatever this junk is — perhaps still the “pre-flu?”  And no, I still don’t believe that’s a real condition.  Which leads me to this question: what will I do if I get the same nurse from last week’s naughty-word incident?  I am considering wearing my Starlite sweatshirt and carrying a couple of Bibles with me into the exam room.  If she has to give me another shot, I could offer to pray for her.  That way, when the needle goes in, I could shout “Hallelujah!” instead of a naughty word and my Christian-ness would be rescued.

2. Last night, when some Starlite leaders went into my office after our meeting, they saw my two diplomas hanging on the wall (just put them up yesterday).  I overheard the following:

“Wow, those diplomas make her look actually smart.”

3. And yet, their uplifting of my self-esteem continued as we went out for dinner last night.  While suggesting what I should wear on an upcoming umm….. date thingy event they got into a heated discussion about whether my hair should be straight or curly.  However, they were all able to agree that I should wear a pair of glasses as “They will make you look really smart, Amy Beth.  Trust us.”

Do I even need to follow-up with a comment?  Really girls?  Really? 

Grabbing my Bible(s) and heading out… I’ve got a nurse to apologize to yet again win for the Lord. 

Glory.

She turns the thermostat to “off” all the time ’cause she likes to live like a polar bear.  I wait ’til she’s asleep and then turn it back to “heat.”

She tries on no less than 10 outfits before deciding on jeans and a sweatshirt from the bottom of the pile.  I tried to copy her one day and was mistaken for a homeless person.

She stays up ’til 5 a.m. repeatedly singing Total Eclipse of the Heart.  I’m in bed by 11 p.m.

She’s the only person I’ve ever met who looks stunning in a baseball cap.  I know better than to even try.

She stumbles to the coffee maker every morning and looks chic with her travel mug.  I pour Sunny Delight in mine, ’cause I want to be like her.

She hates to be alone so she combined two beds so she could have slumber parties with her friends all the time.  I have been known to kick people in my bed in the night and claim that I did it in my sleep.

She wears hair clips that she got in 5th grade.  I wear her hair clips, too… she just didn’t know it until now.

She loves a perfectly clean house.  I do too, but just in theory.

She wants her wedding reception to be catered by McDonald’s.  I want her to be the first bridesmaid to walk down the aisle at mine.

She drives an SUV and keeps it pristine.  I drive a two-door compact car and carry everything I own in it.

She reads my blog each morning and asks me when I’m going to start writing a book.  I want to read a book written about her life story.

She notices when I’m quiet and slips into my room to see if I’m okay.  I notice when she’s gone too late and text to see when she’s coming home.

She dates the most charismatic guy I’ve ever met.  I borrowed him to assemble my new jewelry case.

She says she wishes she had known God when she was young, like I did.  I am just glad He’s no respecter of persons, ’cause if He was, I’m certain He’d like her better than me.

She made me answer the phone when That Boy finally called me.  I repeated aloud everything she mouthed to me as I accepted his offer for a date.

She wears leg warmers, layers her shirts and owns the best flat iron around.  And thanks to being tutored by her, I do all three now, too.

She’s my roommate and I wouldn’t trade her for anybody.

Well, at least until I meet The One.  And then I’m kicking her butt to the curb.