After spending yesterday working out of my living room, Starbucks and my car, I now have a ministry office back. AND, I have a boy to thank for it!

Of course, the boy is kinda like my brother. The odds of us dating are close to the odds of me giving up my love of wellies. However, in the video below, I give him one last chance to claim me as his girlfriend.

He, um, didn’t even respond.

Things I find hilarious about this video:

1. Cassidy, one of our volunteers, finds a flip flop in our toilet.

2. Jeff requests rubber gloves to handle the birds.

3. I repeatedly scream like a little girl when Jeff scares me.

Oh! And here’s a little “behind the scenes” info for ya’ll — as we were leaving, Jeff jokingly said he needed to hurry so he wouldn’t be late for his date. I was all like “Date?!? What date?!? Have I met and approved this girl yet?” And then he’s all “I’m just kidding. You know you’re the only girl for me.”

Flash forward 45 minutes: Cassidy and I are in Chili’s, enjoying some victory dinner when IN WALKS JEFF WITH SOME GIRL! He really DID have a date! I resisted the urge to whip out the camera and take their picture. Jeff, for what it’s worth, just pretended like he didn’t know us.

I can’t imagine why.

So last night I’m on the phone with a really good friend from college, Cara.  We’re catching up on each other’s lives, which basically means I was saying things like “Yeah, Snuggles and Cuddles are doing well” and she was saying things like “Yeah, my extremely good looking and deep-voiced boyfriend and I are Really Serious and we’re, like, in love and life is all sunshine-y and fabulous.”

And then I was all like “I hate you with the heat of a thousand campfires.”

Just kidding.

I was really all like “When shall I order my flower girl’s dress?” and “What exactly do you mean by ‘You’re not going to be my flower girl?’”

By goodness, you people wait and see: I will be SOMEONE’S flower girl.  One day.  Hopefully.  Maybe?

And then, the following dialogue took place and I said to myself “Self, you are going to post this on the world wide web and you are not going to mention those ri-darn-diculous birds one time!  Not one time!  You are going to write one post this week that does not mention THOSE BIRDS.”  And my self said “Yes, m’am!”

And so, here you go:

Me: “Cara, all the time I think about throwing you a wedding shower and coming to the rehearsal dinner and seeing you walk down the aisle.”

Cara: “Really?  ‘Cause I’m just thinking about my honeymoon.”

Me: “I’m posting that on the blog.”

Then we have some conversation about all of the girls from our “era” that are married and their weddings and such which leads us into this:

Me: “I know this is bad, but I hope some of the girls still come to my wedding even though they’re already married and stuff.”

Cara: “Oh, sweetie, of course we’re all going to come.  I mean, we’ll all be bringing our kids and grandkids with us, but we’ll be there.”

In the midst of our National Starlite Bird Crisis of ’08, we’re returning to our regular bloggy schedule with Friday’s Face. For those of you who never paid attention to it in the past are new, whenever I feel like it each Friday I feature an interview with someone who makes Starlite great. Plus, you get to see three pictures of them that show their adorable faces. It is, I’m assuming, the reason most of you get out of bed on Friday mornings.

This week’s Friday’s Face is a special guy who makes Starlite run with ease. He’s never caused any interruptions in the normal, day-to-day operations of our office. He keeps things clean and sanitary, of course. Interlings, I present… Mr. Blackbird!

Welcome to Friday’s Face, Mr. Blackbird. It’s nice to have you here this week.

Why, thank you! I’m glad I was able to fly in on time… wouldn’t have missed this interview for the world! I really believe in what you all are doing here in Starlite.

I don’t know what to say. I suppose “thank you” is in order. So, let’s get down to business: Mr. Blackbird, how do you feel that you help our ministry?

Well, I help Starlite in my own, special, unique way. But what I’m more interested in is helping you, my dear Amy Betheries.

Why, I’m blushing! Do tell, Mr. Blackbird.

I read your blog each morning when I get up, so I saw that you’re working on having a healthier you over the next 100 days. I want to help you with that goal and so I have made it my personal purpose in life to get your heart racing each and every single time you come into the Starlite office.

Oh, really?

Yes! I’ve also decided that once you finally realize that my blackbird friends and I aren’t going anywhere, we’ll play a fun little game of hide and seek. Basically, we’ll hide to let you think we’ve left or — God forbid — died. And then when you’re busy working on sending emails or paying bills or those other boring things you do, we’ll suddenly pop out and fly straight towards your head!

Wow.

That way, we can get your heart rate up several times a day.

As much as I appreciate your concern for my health, I am afraid that it is my duty to confront you publicly on a matter of extreme importance. Mr. Blackbird, I believe you have been stealing office supplies for your personal use.

Never would I do such a thing! Have you any proof of these allegations?

Actually, I do.

You ate our processed nacho cheese! What do you have to say now?

I’ve been caught! I never meant to take your processed nacho cheese, I promise! It’s just that you didn’t leave any food out for me and I was starving. Amy Betheries, surely you can’t fault a blackbird for wanting to eat while he’s protecting your office?

You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Good day, sir.

In that case, let me go ahead and apologize in advance for what I left on your floors, walls, counter tops, desks, bookshelves, etc. I’m sorry; I don’t know how to use your bathroom.

The birds.  They are still alive.

If you never watch another MinSoFab video, you MUST watch this one.  I decided to video me attempting to go into the office this morning.  Honestly, I thought the birds would have died overnight and I could just show you some nice footage of a dead bird on my desk or something.

Instead, you will now be able to view me screaming like a little girl while insisting that BETH MOORE DOES NOT HAVE TO DEAL WITH BIRDS IN HER MINISTRY OFFICE. 

Not that I’m claiming to have as great hair as Bethie.  Or, you know, minister like her.  That too.

Feel free to mock me in the comments.  Even I made fun of myself while watching this video a few minutes ago. 

After eating a quick dinner tonight, I decided to head over to the Starlite office because I had forgotten something that I needed.  As I step into the front office, I get this overwhelming feeling of dread.  The Stop Me In My Tracks type of dread.  

I didn’t hear anything that caused me to feel the dread.  I didn’t see anything.  I didn’t even smell anything.  OH BUT I SENSED IT.

And that’s when I saw them: BIRDS.  Real, live BIRDS IN OUR OFFICE.

Now.  I am not proud of what I’m about to tell you, but tell I must: upon seeing the birds perched throughout the front office, I uttered a VERY naughty word, grabbed my purse and ran screaming into our front lawn.  A man jogging past our office asked me if everything was okay.  My reply?

“NO EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY.  There are BIRDS IN THE OFFICE.”

He started laughing and said he couldn’t help me with that.  And so I went to my car.

After making sure the doors to my car were locked, I looked into the office window to see three birds (THREE BIRDS!) merrily flying around.  And then I, alone in my car, screamed again.

Ya’ll, I do not know what to do.  This has happened once before (last summer, actually) and we our landlord discovered that they had come in through the chimney.  He had a mesh covering put over it BUT OBVIOUSLY SOMETHING IS AMISS. 

You know, for all my hot pink bloggy-ness, I’m pretty tough.  I deal with hard stuff every single week — eating disorders, cutting, sexual abuse.  But ya’ll, I cannot go back into that office until the birds are gone.

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?

P.S. - Wouldn’t it be helpful if I had a boyfriend so he could handle this for me?  That one’s for You, God.  I’m just sayin’.

P.P.S. - Excuse me, you?  Woman who is about to leave a comment saying I shouldn’t need a boy’s help to deal with this?  YOU try walking into your adorable ministry office and feeling like you’re trapped in the bird section of Petco EXCEPT THESE BIRDS AREN’T PRETTY-COLORED.

P.P.P.S. - Also, I do feel bad about the naughty word.  But ya’ll.  There was a bird near MY HEAD. 

P.P.P.P.S. – I want you to know that I almost called my ex to see if he could go and handle it for me.  But ya’ll taught me well during the Birthday Fiasco of ’08.  I have learned from my thoughtful, yet wicked ways.

Ahem. Shall we begin?

1. During the night, a certain puppy WHOSE NAME RHYMES WITH TUGGLES insisted on climbing into my duffel bag and then jumping out with a loud bark. Then, he would repeat. And repeat again. Until I finally woke up and said ENOUGH PUPPY THAT RHYMES WITH TUGGLES. ENOUGH.

2. This morning, while trying to locate the power cord for my laptop, I found it beside the duffel bag. I plugged it in and soon had sparks flying and actual smoke rising. Apparently SOMEONE needed a new chew toy in the night.

3. At this very moment, the one and only Jenelle is here in my house. I picked Jenelle up from the airport last night and brought her home for the night. Our college (pretend I’m still in college) makes you take a trip with the school before you graduate. I went to Italy with 40 classmates; Jenelle is leaving for England and Scotland in a couple of hours. We’ve got other Starliter’s gone, too: Laura left at 5:30 a.m. for Ukraine, Katie (not roommate one) and Carmen are in Israel right now, etc.

4. Which brings me to the following conversation I had with each of them. I’ll use Laura’s as an example here though:

Me: “Are you sure you have enough money? And did you pack everything you need?”

Laura: “Yes.”

Me: “What about calling cards?”

Laura: “Yes.”

Me: “You know not to talk to strangers, right?”

Laura: “Yes, mom.”

Obviously, you mommy bloggers are rubbing off on me.

5. Back to Jenelle: last night, on our way to eat dinner (NO I DID NOT COOK FOR HER AND WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE), Jenelle told me a story about something she did yesterday that is truly unbelievable. I am going to make her tell me the story again today and record it for you. And trust me, once you hear this story, you will finally understand the girl that is Jenelle.

6. But until then, I leave you with only one Jenelle quote. We’ve only been together for 12 hours, yet I already have a list to choose from. This one, however, is at the top: while on our way to dinner, Jenelle called her boyfriend to check in. He was asking her what we were going to do for the evening and this was Jenelle’s reply:

“Well, we’re going to go eat dinner and spend some quality time together and we’re going to talk about a lot of things, mainly about what I should do if the guy I’m dating, THAT’S YOU, HONEY, is the one I’m going to marry and how I should handle that and then we’re going to go see a movie.”

And yet, you’ll laugh harder at the video later tonight. Trust me on this.

Got to go. Lappy is dying, thanks to A CERTAIN SET OF PUPPY TEETH.

I come from… how shall I put it? A very unique family. It wouldn’t be inappropriate to say that most of my extended family members put the fun in dysfunctional. But emphasis on dysfunctional.

I don’t have that large of a family, and I can count my cousins on one hand. One of them, Marisa, lives in the same town as me — something I absolutely love. She’s my baby cousin and I feel it is my God-given task — nay, duty — to spoil her at every chance I get.

And then she met BJ. Now, Marisa and I are from country roots. We’re well aware that we’re country and, by goodness, we are proud of it. Ain’t no shame in having a country name.

Okay, I’m the only one of us with a country name. But you get the point.

Now, Marisa has done gone and caught herself a BOY. A real, live BOY. Why, when I heard the news, I gathered the kinfolk up and we started cookin’ up some vittles right ‘way!

I’m sorry. I just had to get it out.

A few months ago, Marisa called with one simple statement: “It’s time to introduce BJ to the family.” Knowing the very feelings that were coursing through Marisa’s brain, I observed a moment of silence with her.

We started out slowly, letting him meet one family member at a time, hoping he wouldn’t notice any type of pattern between them all. I’m still not sure how it happened, but somehow, BJ stayed — something all the other boys we’ve brought around haven’t quite been able to do.

A few weeks ago, I got a picture text that showed one huge diamond ring and the words “I’M ENGAGED!!!” beneath it. To say I was excited would be the understatement of the year.

So, you can imagine my excitement when Marisa called me up the other day to ask me to plan her wedding! The inner Type A in me is just thrilled and has already started making checklists. In fact, just last night, we went to pay the deposit on the place she’s getting married at. Which is, coincidentally, the place I want to get married at as well.  No kidding.

But I don’t think that will be a problem, seeing as it’ll be 37 years before I get married. By then, everyone will have forgotten that it is the same place, right?

Right?

On Saturday morning, still sore from the door / golf cart incident, I got up early and headed to our college’s graduation to watch Cate and 18 other former Starlite leaders or volunteers graduate from college. And yes, I cried.

Take note: that last line? “And yes, I cried.” It will be oft repeated throughout this here post.

After graduation ended, I had to go take care of some stuff for The Other Job. As soon as I got done with it, I headed to a nearby town where a team from Starlite was providing childcare for A Big Conference. We occasionally do this to earn money for the programs; that day’s donation check will buy 100+ large cans of processed nacho cheese.

When I got to the church where the conference was being held, I slipped in through the back helped Laura, one of our leaders, with a bunch of kids who had obviously had far too much sugar. I stayed with her for a couple of hours, and while I was there, several women came into the room to say hello (I’ve spoken at this church several times and they had a sign up saying that we’d be there doing the childcare, so I guess they figured I was back there somewhere).

When the conference was over, Laura and I headed out the front entrance together, thinking everyone would be gone. I had a horrible headache and really needed to get out of there quick. But there in the lobby stood several women who had been there when I spoke last. They grabbed me from all sides and started asking rapid-fire questions about Starlite. As sweet Laura stepped in and answered a lot of the questions, one of the women pulled me aside saying “Oh, you have just GOT to meet So-And-So.”

It was A Very Famous Person who was the headliner of the conference.

I tried to beg off, saying I didn’t feel well but it didn’t matter. I was suddenly in front of the person, being asked to explain what Starlite does. By this point, my head was hurting so badly that I couldn’t really form sentences. I think I said something like “We, um, do things for little girls? You know?”

The conversation continued for several more awkward moments before I finally excused myself — probably looking very rude — and headed straight out the door to my car. And yes, I cried. Laura met up with me outside and started telling me not to worry and that “you’re a ROCK STAR, AB!” Bless her precious little heart for trying to make me feel better.

I made it home and crawled into bed thinking that I could sleep off my headache. Four hours later, I was on the phone with a physician I know asking him what to do. And yes, I cried. He said I was having a bad migraine and that I needed to go straight to the ER. My vision was so messed up by this point that I had to call Laura to drive me there. There was quite a wait once we got there, but since my vitals weren’t good in triage, they took us straight back. Before long I had an IV pumping various drugs into me while Laura sat nearby saying “I hope they want blood work done so that the hot lab tech will come in here. I’m going to get his number.”

He, unfortunately, did not come. Laura was understandably crushed. And yes, I cried.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the details and I definitely will not be posting the video that Laura took once they had put something in my IV that made me say some rather embarrassing things. I’m happy to say that I currently don’t feel as though I want to cut my head off as I did for most of Saturday and even Sunday. In fact, when Katie came home last night from a trip home to see her family, I was actually able to speak in full sentences.

Which basically consisted of “I didn’t even get to SEE the hot lab tech because my vision was so blurry.”

And yes, I cried.

Well, my interlings, The Big Event is over.  After a 16 hour work day At My Other Job That Isn’t Starlite Related, I collapsed in bed early this morning.

And by “collapsed in bed” I mean that I barely made it to my bed.

What’s that, interlings?  You want to know why I barely made it to my bed?

Why, but of course.  I’d be happy to tell you.

The reason I found it so difficult to get to my bed only a few short hours ago was because, during last night’s event, I broke my toe.  On a door.  That I shut my foot on.

At least I think it’s broken.  I’ve done this twice before, so I’m pretty sure that I know what it feels like.

Oh, but it gets better.

Approximately seven minutes after I broke my toe, a man drove his security golf cart into me.  From behind.  Effectively knocking me into the arms of the guest facing me.

HE DROVE THE GOLF CART INTO ME.  A GOLF CART.  GOING AT A SEMI-HIGH RATE OF SPEED.

It was a pleasant, lovely evening.

3,166 — the number of emails currently downloading to my inbox. Since last night. I wish I was kidding. (I’m sure a good portion of it is spam. At least I hope so. If not, send help. Stat.)

1 — the number of Starbucks gift cards that arrived in my mailbox today as a prize for writing something.

17 — the number of Sharpie markers on my desk at the moment.

2 — the number of puppies acting ridiculous in the other room.

1/2 — the number of pages I wrote in my diary this morning.

5 — the number of hours I slept last night.

19 — the number of former Starlite leaders or volunteers graduating tomorrow.

8 — the number of wedding invitations from former Starlite leaders or volunteers on my desk at the moment.

78,930,437 0 — the number of times I’ve been jealous re: fact above.

4 — the number of minutes spent on my hair this morning. I was in a hurry.