A few months ago, in a fit of boredom that was out of control, I asked the bloggy readers to send in their questions for me. I got some fantastic questions, including several of my Starlite leaders asking me what kind of shampoo I use and how long it takes me to fix my hair in the morning.

Obviously, they aren’t very good at paying attention because HELLO WE ALWAYS COVER THAT IN STARLITE ORIENTATION.

I mean, I do want to equip them for ministry. And if you can conquer good hair… well, that’s half the battle.

Anyway, I thought we’d try it again, especially since I really only had like 12 readers back then. Now that I have 14, I thought we might get a couple of new questions about Starlite or, um, my life.

OR SHAMU. I am a wealth of knowledge about killer whales, just so you know.

No subject is off limits (I think), so leave ‘em in the comments and I’ll answer them later this week.

I may even try to get Imaginary Boyfriend to answer a couple of them; no promises though. We’ve been fighting a lot lately so he might not be in the mood to do a favor for me.

Ya’ll, I almost got in SO much trouble at church yesterday morning.

I went to “big church” instead of my regular jeans and coffee college thing; great, no?

Um…

So, the choir is doing the special song at offering time and who do I spot in the choir but DWIGHT from The Office.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly Dwight singing and shoutin’ his amens this morning. But I promise you, the guy looked just like him. The more I watched him, the more similarities I noticed. And then the unthinkable happened.

I burst out laughing.

Of course, I picked a fantastic time to start laughing — right as the pastor was mentioning a couple of intense prayer requests. The people around me gasped, turned their heads, etc. as I continued to uncontrollably laugh while Brother So-And-So’s hospitalization was being discussed from the pulpit.

I have this thing with laughing at inappropriate times. Once I get started, I just can’t stop. So there I sat, both hands over my mouth, willing myself to STOP IT FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

Finally I got control of myself, but only because I made myself think of something sad. But then, Dwight-Look-Alike was back again — and so were my giggles.

I have a feeling that it will be awhile before I go back to big church.

Well, it’s over.

I don’t even know how to describe the people we met at our yard sale yesterday. All I know is that Laura, one of our leaders who is originally from Scotland, kept saying “What did you expect? This is TENNESSEE.”

I kept defending my great state and it’s residents until The Incident occurred.

We heard a weird sound and looked up to see a pick-up truck driving up the sidewalk in front of our office and parking itself halfway on our sidewalk and halfway in the grass at our office. Out come a couple who were rockin’ some overalls and a paisley dress. They start going through our junk and finally made their way to where I was sitting. Beside me?

The remains of a certain Starlite toilet from better days.

In our defense, we put the broken toilet out as a joke. AND it has never been used.

Actually, one time, my then boyfriend (who was a Resident Assistant in one of our college’s dorms) asked if he could borrow the toilet. I was too afraid to ask why, but later found out that he had the guys on his hall bob for apples out of it. Isn’t that one of the most disgusting things you’ve ever heard? And yet I’ve heard that it was quite the attraction that Saturday night.

Anyway, Grandpa comes right up to me and asks about the toilet, seeing as though we hadn’t put a price tag on it. I was stunned that he was sincerely asking about it but decided that if I could sell someone a broken toilet, I would surely claim my position as Bestest Ministry Leader Ever 2008 – Infinity.

And so, with the sweetest little southern smile you have ever seen, I told him that I thought the broken toilet would look just lovely as a flowerpot.

His reply?

“Why, you’ve got the right idea, missy. I’ve had two of ‘em outside my front door for years. Prettiest flowers you ever did see.”

After reading your comments about my grocery store fantasy, my hope is secure that one day (MANY, MANY DAYS FROM NOW) I too will experience the thrill of pushing a mom and kid cart down the aisle.

In other news, I know that you must be on the very edge of your seat wondering how Day One of the Starlite yard sale went. As I am currently in a semi-comatose state from the heat coupled with talking to all the crazy people, I must enlist the help of my friend, List Format. List, take us away:

1. When we finally left the office the night before, I asked Magen (one of our leaders) what time she thought we should arrive. She said 5:50 a.m. I thought that was pretty late for a yard sale that had been advertised as beginning at 6 a.m. but HELLO I DO NOT QUESTION THE TIMES WHEN WE ARE DEALING WITH THE LETTERS A.M.

2. However, it turns out that Magen actually said 5:15 a.m. which I heard to be 5:50 a.m. So guess who showed up, um, rather late? I’ll be autographing my book “How To Be A Bad Starlite Leader” early next week — stay tuned.

3. Laura, another Starlite leader who lives with Magen, didn’t actually arrive until after me. However, when she did arrive, it became obvious that she was teaming up with Magen to draw the customers in — both were wearing black sundresses complete with cute hairstyles.

4. I was not wearing a dress nor a cute hairstyle. But let’s not talk about things like that anymore.

5. A woman showed up wearing a neon colored shirt that read “This is my yard sale shirt.” I commented on it (“What a… bright shirt you have on today!”) and she said “Yep, I wear it every single Friday and Saturday.” And I just stood there because I didn’t even know how to respond.

6. A man walked up to us and said that he was driving by and had to turn around and come back when he saw us sitting on the front step. He said he couldn’t pass up pretty girls and proceeded to spend the next 8.3 minutes flirting with us.

7. We did not flirt back. Especially since he was about 30 years older than us.

8. Our first customer of the day arrived before we had actually set-up. He pulled out his trusty flashlight, began peering into our still unpacked boxes, and solemnly asked if we had any guns or knives for sale. Uh, yeah. Right over there by the kid’s crafts, sir. Sorry if they’ve got leftover glitter on them.

I would like to start out by saying that ya’ll are ON TOP OF THE YARD SALE ADVICE.

My only regret is that you aren’t here in real life to run it for us. Because, although I’m writing this an hour before the sale actually begins, I feel pretty certain that I will regret this day as long as I shall live.

When my alarm went off this morning, even Snuggles and Cuddles called me a fool. They were all “Dis is a bwad idea.” And I was all “Get up and at ‘em, puppies! We’re putting you in a box with a sign that says $1 / pet — you’re earning your keep today.”

What can I say? We work hard for the money.

To be truthful, yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve thought about asking ya’ll for advice. Let’s be fair: the majority of this little bloggy’s readership is female w/ child(ren). And so, since you have experienced much more life than me, I usually end up thinking about how I wish I could ask your advice on a lot of different things.

Take yesterday afternoon for example. I ran by the grocery store to get some staples for the next few days: strawberries, peaches, popsicles and Sunny Delight.

Okay, I got a cookie, too.

(Cricket, cricket.)

A box of cookies. THERE. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

Anyway, even though I only needed a few things, I grabbed a single-girl cart. Does your grocery store have these? If not, you are really missing out. My grocery store suddenly started providing carts that are about half the size of a regular grocery cart. They’re perfect for the fun, single girl who is just shopping for herself.

Okay, I lied. I hate using the single-girl carts. This will not come as a surprise but HELLO I AM EXCITED ABOUT WHEN I WON’T EAT MY JELLO CUPS ALONE AT NIGHT. What can I say? Imaginary Boyfriend just isn’t into Jello that much.

Anyway, I think the reason that I don’t like using the single-girl cart is because I’m secretly jealous of the mom and kid carts being pushed down all the aisles around me. I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, I can’t WAIT until the day I get to load my own kidlet(s) into a grocery cart and start cruising down the milk aisle.

In fact, I kind of have a fantasy about it: I’ll pull my three year old girl out of her car seat and load her into the mom and kid cart. We’ll go into the store where I’ll start in the produce section. I’ll squeeze the grapefruits (are you supposed to squeeze a grapefruit?) and put some fresh green beans in a bag (also: how do you actually cook green beans?). We’ll head down the cookie and cracker aisle, while My Adorable Kidlet says things like “Mommy, why are there no whale shaped animal crackers?”

Up and down the aisles we’ll go, just enjoying our time together. She’ll ask me if we can bake cookies together later and I’ll buy break and bake cookie dough (this may be a fantasy of mine, but we’ve got to have some reality in here somewhere). As we approach the register at the front of the store, I’ll sigh because I have just experienced a wonderful time in the grocery store with a kidlet in my cart.

Now. Here is the problem with this fantasy.

One day, Melanie posted about taking her daughter grocery shopping with her and it being a bit, um, difficult. I left a comment saying how I couldn’t wait to have the whole kid-and-me-in-a-grocery-store experience one day and, suddenly, her readers went crazy! They were all “Oh Amy Beth, you are so sadly misguided” and “I’m very concerned for sweet Amy Beth. Life is full of many disappointments and this is going to be a big one.”

And so now, every single time I go to the grocery store for more Sunny Delight, I’m left with a bittersweet taste in my mouth. On one hand, I can still see myself pushing Fantasy Kidlet down the aisle. But, on the other hand, all these mothers must know something I don’t.

And so, tell me: do I have any chance of my fantasy coming true or am I destined for a lifetime of yelling “I WILL PULL THIS CART OVER RIGHT NOW AND WE WILL PUT BACK THE SUNNY DELIGHT IF YOU DON’T STOP IT.”

Oh, I kid. I’d just put back the animal crackers. Mommy’s got to have her Sunny D.

Very early this morning, I posted that we’re holding a yard sale at the Starlite office tomorrow and Saturday.

What I didn’t tell you is that NONE OF US HAVE EVER BEEN IN CHARGE OF A YARD SALE BEFORE.

My extent of yard sale-ing expertise?  Um… well, one time my dad had a yard sale.  I “helped out” by offering to go to the Hardee’s down the road for some breakfast.  And then I sold something for a quarter.  I think.

What I’m trying to say here is that?  People with the yard sale experience?  Lend me your ears.

Actually, lend me your advice.  No, for real.

‘Cause right now our plan is to throw some stuff on the grass and stand there wearing stunner shades and cute clothes hoping that someone will see our hot pink sign and think “Hey, I want to meet those girls and buy their junk.”

Not to be confused with buying our junk in the trunk.

Though, actually, I do have my trunk filled with junk to take over to the office in a bit.

I also have, um, my other trunk filled with junk.  But the only thing that’s gonna help THAT is a treadmill.

Or maybe one of those stair-stepper thingies.

HELP.  Please, for the love of Starlite, HELP US.

A couple of nights ago, I met up with two of our Starlite leaders (there’s only four in town total) to talk about some things we need to accomplish this summer. High on that list is cleaning out the office and doing some deep cleaning / organizing.

And, because we are BRILLIANT, we decided we should have a yard sale. Not only would we be getting rid of a bunch of junk, but we’d also be raising some extra money for the ministry that we can use to go ahead and start purchasing processed nacho cheese for the upcoming school year.

You think I’m joking, but I AM VERY SERIOUS. That stuff has a one year shelf life, so we spread out the cost of purchasing it throughout the summer. We typically buy about 30 vats of it at a time; that will be enough for almost one full month depending on how many girls come to each week’s programs.

And so, because we never do ANYTHING that could be considered ri-darn-diculous, we decided that HEY, LETS HOLD A YARD SALE THIS WEEKEND.

I am cringing just writing that, ya’ll. I do not know why we do this stuff to ourselves.

But it’s too late now — the ad is in the newspaper, the sign is outside and we’re sorting through PILES of stuff that will go on sale this Friday and Saturday mornings.

The worst part?

I’ve haven’t told our leaders / volunteers that are helping out that I put an opening time of 6 a.m. in the newspaper. I saved that little treat for them to read right here on the ‘ol bloggy.

This should aid in my quest for 2008 Best Ministry Leader Ever.

Back when I first began Starlite, I was waaaaaaaaaaaay serious. Everything was a big deal and, at the end of the day, I cared more about what we had accomplished than who I had stepped on, trampled, etc. in order to get everything done.

In God’s defense (HA!), He tried to teach me that There Were Better Ways. But I couldn’t seem to learn them — I just kept right on treating our leaders and volunteers like little worker bees instead of the humans they really were (or at least I hope they were all humans — there are a couple I’m still not sure about).

And so, because I wouldn’t learn the lesson the easy way, God taught it to me the hard way — He sent me somewhere to work for a few months where I got stepped on, trampled, etc. And I learned firsthand just how traumatic it can be to be treated that way in a ministry environment.

So, I came back and Put An End To The Ridiculousness That Was My Prior Behavior.

And you know what? Everybody’s happier. And, dare I say it? We still get done what we need to do (well, most days at least). I’m learning that my girls (by the way, I call them that affectionately not possessively) are definitely worth getting to know, each and every last one of them.

I’m also learning that they are HILARIOUS and quite funny when they think they’re in trouble. Case it point? The Episode Of The Broken Toilet.

I think you’ll enjoy this.

Back when Starlite first began, we bought a real, live toilet to use in a drama about bulimia. Since then, we’ve used it for that same purpose — talk about dramatic. The middle school girls truly believe that whoever is on stage “throwing up” into the toilet really has bulimia. It opens up a whole lot of conversations for us.

A little over a year ago, we loaded up all our stuff and headed out of town to host a massive sleepover at a church. The toilet when on the U-Haul, along with all our other stuff. When we got to the church, we stored some of the stuff we didn’t need right away in a closed off staircase / hallway.

We had arrived in the town a day early to set-up, so after getting things finished, I told everybody goodnight and headed to the room I (and a few girls) were sleeping in. The rest of our large group of volunteers was sleeping down the hall and then our band (which is made up totally of guys) slept in a completely different area of the church.

As I went to bed, I reminded the girls and the guys that they couldn’t leave the church or their sleeping areas from this point forward (we have that rule to prevent any, um, friendships from developing between the male and female volunteers at 3 a.m.).

The next morning, I wake up to find a very nervous group of my girl volunteers waiting for me. They kept saying “you tell her!” and “I’m not telling her!” They finally elected Cate (because she’s my cousin) to deliver the bad news: the toilet was destroyed.

When I asked what had happened, Cate told me I should talk to the other girls. I went back to the group and asked how it had happened. After quite an awkward silence, one volunteer looked me dead in the eye and said “Amy Beth, I think God vomited into the toilet last night and it exploded.”

I have never laughed so hard in my life. Obviously something else had happened that the girls were covering for, but hello? God vomiting in the Starlite drama toilet? Priceless.

Oh, and guess how it actually ended up breaking? Turns out that the band guys decided to sneak out of the church at 3 a.m. to go to Taco Bell. They tried to go down the staircase with the lights off (so no one would catch them) and ran smack into our toilet which sent it down a flight of stairs. They told the girls, who had woken up at the crash, that they HAD to cover for them when I found out about it.

And you thought dealing with processed nacho cheese was the hardest part of my job.

For more WFMW posts, go here.

I’ve been thinking about living on my own for awhile now.  There’s nothing wrong between me and Katie (other than the fact I’m still totally jealous of her cute jewelry), but we’ve got some reasons we need to give up the townhouse we share now.

She’s going to move in with some mutual friends since she only has a little bit of school left (no reason for her to sign a long lease).  And I?  I am going to LIVE IN THE STARLITE OFFICE IF I DON’T FIGURE OUT SOMETHING SOON.

Here’s my problem: we live in a tiny town.  The apartment complexes here are income-assisted.  While I narrowly qualify for it (within about $300.00 under the limit), that’s only because I didn’t take a salary from Starlite one month last year (trust me, it’s a long story — but basically, we forgot to pay me one month). 

Yeah.  We noticed that one a little too late.

So, here’s my predicament: if I move into one of these apartments (and there’s some nice, lovely new ones), I can’t make any extra money this year and I’d have to actually not take a salary from Starlite for a month AGAIN this year.  In other words, should God bless me with a raise either at Starlite or The Other Job I Work To Pay Off My School Loans, I would have to turn down the raise.

My other option?  Finding another townhouse (since they aren’t in the income-assisted deal) and trying to figure out a way to pay for it (they’re considerably higher than the apartments).  I can’t live with a Starlite leader because we have some rules about that.  I also can’t live with the other girls my age that I know because (AND YOU’LL THINK I’M MAKING THIS UP) they’re all engaged.

(By the way, got three more wedding invitations in the mail yesterday.)

(All three are girls who were volunteers in Starlite.)

(BUT I AM BLOOMING WHERE I AM PLANTED.  WHICH HAPPENS TO BE SINGLEVILLE, YA’LL.  DON’T YOU SEE ALL THE BLOOMING ACTION HAPPENING HERE?)

I was spending time with Allison, my accountability partner, last night and we talked about my situation.  What I love about Allison is that she knows exactly what’s about to come out of my mouth, especially when it is something RI-DARN-DICULOUS:

Me: “Allie, what if I had…”

Allie: “Don’t even say it!”

Me: “You don’t know what I was about to say.”

Allie: “Yes I do.  You were going to say ‘Allie, what if I had stayed with ——— and we were married by now and so on.’  Sure, you’d have somewhere to live and someone to live with, but you’d also be miserable.”

Me: “Okay, so you did know what I was going to say.”

And so, my precious lambs, I’m in a sticky situation. 

I’ve been driving around in the evenings with the puppies, trying to find somewhere fairly decent to live.  I found a fantastic place, with certain features that are seriously in my Dream House That Lives Inside My Mind.  However, as I explained to the puppies when I got back in the car, Mommy just doesn’t make enough to live there.

After all, a Christmas bonus of a leftover vat of processed nacho cheese doesn’t go that far in the mortgage office.

SHOCKING, I KNOW.

On a positive note, if I do end up setting up a cot in the Starlite office, we can cut down on our phone bill by getting rid of voicemail service since I’ll be there to answer the phone 24/7.

“Good evening, Starlite Ministries slash Amy Beth’s casa slash puppy kennel HOW MAY I HELP YOU?”

Kinda has a nice ring to it, now doesn’t it?

While driving home last night, I started feeling bad about ya’ll having to read about me having a little whine and a moan at least once a week. And so, I decided to give you a little bloggy present straight from my mouth to your ears.

I really have no idea how to even begin to describe what you’re about to see.

But, because I love you, I’m going to try.

On my way to the airport, I decided to make a video for ya’ll. I wanted to show you this habit I have of singing to a song (ANY SONG) on this one stretch of road that leads up to this particular airport.

I always pick a song from whatever CD is currently in my player and just rock out to it. This time around, I had a mix CD of songs we used during our last massive sleepover. We used one particular secular song (I HEAR YOU GASPING!) to illustrate how the enemy sometimes tricks us into thinking that what he’s got for us is irresistible. I decided, however, to change the meaning to this song and, um, dedicate it to Imaginary Boyfriend.

Unfortunately, I also missed the exit for the airport while recording this video. The reaction you see come over my face when I realize that I am MILES AWAY FROM THE AIRPORT is priceless. I had NO IDEA that I had driven past it while singing.

The things I do for ya’ll. The things I do.

Please note that, after you hear my stellar singing voice, you will undoubtedly wish to book me to come perform at your church, civic center or local Dairy Queen. Unfortunately, I only accept speaking engagements.

But that’s only because I’m afraid my oh so excellent musical abilities would put your choir director to shame. And we can’t have him crying himself to sleep at night, now can we?

Also. Each time I post a video, my Starlite leaders are all like “Why do you suddenly have a lisp?” Just so you know, I don’t actually have one in real life. It’s just the camera.

Similar to how the camera adds 50 lbs, you know.

Ahem.