Finding God in all things

God has a sense of humor. And he enjoys messing with me.

A few months ago, in an effort to get myself in better spiritual shape, I managed to find a sweet, patient Jesuit who was willing to lead me through an adapted version of St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises. I'm about halfway through and so far it's been great. I spend some time every day in quiet contemplation, reading a bit, reflecting a bit, and having some pretty good one-on-one conversations with Jesus.

Actually, Ignatian spirituality is perfect for an ADD-afflicted human like me. Whenever I find myself going off the rails, getting distracted when I should be focusing on my meditation for the day, or even when I'm out in the world and start having very uncharitable thoughts, I usually can get myself re-focused by using Ignatius' tenet of trying to find God in all things.

Like this morning, for example, when I walked into the gym still in my post-meditation, content, I'm Going to Look for God in Everything I See Today mode and I'm instantly accosted by the Resident Creeper, the guy who wears cargo shorts, bad 70s-looking t-shirts, smells faintly of a mixture of Pine-Sol and moth balls, and who tries to strike up a conversation with any woman under the age of 100 who happens to be working out.

RC: Hey, you weren't here yesterday.

Me (trying to be pleasant while still trying to discourage a major conversation): No, I took the day off. Had some other stuff to do.

RC: Stuff, huh?

Me (trying to step around him because he's a close talker and, you know, the smell): Yep.

RC: You got any plans for the weekend?

Me (as I'm walking away): Yeah, my husband and I are headed to a family reunion in Nebraska.

RC (loudly, because by now there are all of five feet between me and him and he wants to make sure I can hear him): You shouldn't tell people you're leaving town. That's how houses get robbed.

Me: Yeah. Thanks!

I kept walking and escaped to the locker room, thinking the whole time, "Really, God? Really? You have to test me like this?"

As I was putting my stuff in my locker, Holly, one of my fellow gymgoers who overheard the whole encounter with RC said to me, "What is with that guy? The other day he told me I should wear my hair shorter and get some highlights."

A few other women chimed in about him, too (apparently I'm not special), and then Gloria, one of the octogenarian aquasizers, momentarily stopped her struggle with her bathing suit (at that point the bathing suit was winning) and said, "Girls, he's lonely. He obviously doesn't have any social skills, and this is where he feels comfortable, so would it kill you all to just be a little tolerant of him, make his life a little better by being nice?"

Then, looking at Holly, she said, "And you know what? You could maybe use some highlights. Brighten up your face a little."

And there it was. Just as I was trying really hard to remind myself that God was in the RC, Gloria speaks up and says pretty much what I imagine Jesus would say in that situation.

And, of course, how does the voice of Jesus come to me? Through a half-naked 80-year-old woman in the locker room of an LA Fitness.

Seriously. God has a helluva sense of humor.

A Weekend in Vegas

A couple of observations as I sit in the Las Vegas airport waiting for my flight home after a weekend spent roaming casinos, eating good food, watching bad football, and drinking far too much.

1. I'm neither a fashion model nor a fashion designer, but I can tell you without question that a dress with big horizontal blocks of florescent green, black, and cherry red that barely covers a 250-lb woman's behind is NOT a very flattering choice. And if I had to guess, the sparkly 10-inch platform heels weren't comfortable, either.

2. You just have to wonder what the one giggly, scantily clad woman in the group of seven loud, over-served men is really thinking. If I had to guess, it's got something to do with a business transaction and nothing all to do with being entertained by stories about the insurance business back home in Erie.

3. In order to get a cup of coffee in the morning you have to traipse through the casino, where, if you had a rough night (which we actually did), the smell of cigarette smoke and the sight of people swilling cheap bourbon at 8 a.m. does nothing to ease your budding hangover.

4. How do they get all the cigarette smoke out of those casinos? That's got to be a pretty amazing ventilation system.

5. The cutest thing I saw: a couple who looked to be in their 80s holding hands while they both played the slots. Whenever one of them won, they gave each other a kiss. It was even cuter when their caretaker/daughter came up and said loudly, "OK, you two, time for lunch. You have to take your medicine and get a little nap and so you'll be fresh for the show tonight!" They picked up their canes and shuffled off, then two portly women wearing I (heart) Quilting sweatshirts swooped into their seats. "They left just as they were paying out!" PW 1 unnecessarily explained to me, a bit defensively.

6. We watched the Super Bowl in the bar of a very nice restaurant and were entertained not by the game but by the table full of men with Jersey accents throwing money around (and buying Mark and me a drink or two while they were at it), and a table full of guys speaking what sounded like Russian who kept putting their heads together and whispering, leaning back nodding vigorously, then ordering another round of drinks and food. They were either very serious about reaching a consensus on their beverage choice or they were plotting something big. I hope it's the former, but if it's the latter I don't think I'll be a good witness because, due to all the drinks we were getting, when I tried to recall their faces this morning all I could conjure was Vladimir Putin in his boxing getup.

7. I think your fellow citizens should get to vote on whether or not you are allowed to wear a t-shirt that declares, "I'm bringing the sexy back."

8. I really wanted to strike up a conversation with the woman who was wearing the "I'm Still A Virgin" t-shirt. What's the thought process involved there? Are you trying to get a guy? Are you willing to change? What?

9. As I was waiting for Mark in the MGM lobby this morning, I overheard a group of 20-something guys recount their weekend. Sounds like all in all they had a good few days, but my heart went out to the guy who said, shaking his head, "I can't believe she was a hooker! Damn. I really thought I was getting somewhere with her!"

10. I usually try to take a live-and-let-live attitude when I'm waiting in an airport, but listening to the slot machines jingle and the shouts of the overserved gentlemen speaking a language I don't understand is starting to get on my nerves. For fun, I think I'm going to start fantasizing a way to shut them up that involves the garbage lady's cart, the hand trolley the stocker guy is using, and a couple of the plastic trash bins stacked up behind me. I'll let you know if I can get all the logistics worked out before I have to board the plane.

The January 15 Christmas Letter

After the Current Husband, the Girl Child and I finished putting away all the Christmas stuff a couple weeks ago, I surveyed the now-back-to-normal living room and said, "Well, THAT never happened." I was all ready to put the Christmas season behind me and begin the new year with a good attitude (no easy feat for me) and a firm resolve to try to be nice to people (even more difficult).

Then it arrived.

On January 15, in a red, holly-trimmed envelope, we got what is annually The Most Annoying Christmas Letter Sent By The Most Annoying Family We Know. I'd been wondering where it was, since every year I look forward to making fun of TMAFWK and their horrifyingly posed photo and the wife's grammar-massacring prose. This year's offering did not disappoint.

Guess why it was so late? Because TMAFWK spent their Christmas on a cruise ship, sailing to a tropical locale that was "like a dreaming." The photo included the whole family in matching swimwear, showing off some pretty scary Midwestern-white skin and featuring the wife's newly tightened face and, if I'm not mistaken, newly enhanced breasts.

Good news. The kids are still perfect geniuses, the husband's job is going great (five extravagant vacations this year!), and the wife is "filling her days with children and managing the dally lives of their sports achievements and schoolwork!!!" (you can't make stuff like that up)

Seven poorly written paragraphs that are sure to set your teeth on edge, ended with the inevitable "Love! The Smith's."

What's with the excessive use of exclamation points? And people, will you stop with the unnecessary apostrophes? Sheesh.

Which brings us to the Skoog Annual Christmas Letter, a direct response to those chirpy TMI, OMG-Isn't-Our-Life-Great missives that make actual normal people want to barf. Is ours perfect? Nope. But, well, it kind of sums up what our particular family is all about.

Here is our 2013 edition:

The smart, cute, and well-behaved Skoog children.

After a pathetic showing last year (writing the letter on a laptop on our way home from Christmas dinner), we’re excited that this might actually get to you all before actual Christmas. But what are we doing, taking up valuable time like this? Let’s get to the news!

Joe:

· 19 years old, a freshman at Gonzaga University

· Ended a superlative high school debate career and was actually recruited by several universities (no! seriously! we’re not kidding!), including Michigan State and Mary Washington, but ended up choosing Gonzaga because of its coaches, philosophy department, and because it’s included on the list of 28 mom-approved schools.

· Shortly after arriving on campus, ducked into McCarthey Athletic Center to avoid the white stuff falling out of the sky (he later learned it’s called “snow”), and accidentally joined a shoot-around with the men’s basketball team. After Joe hit seven straight threes, Coach Mark Few instantly offered him a scholarship. Joe’s initial “no thanks” to Coach Few has evolved, over the past few months, from “Please, I need to get to class,” into “What are you doing in my room?” Apparently the poor guy doesn’t take rejection well—but he seemed to take the restraining order OK.

Catharine

· 21 years old, a senior at Marquette University

· Was accepted into MU’s Physician Assistant Program and is currently in the first year of her master’s degree studies. She was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa in the spring and is currently the facilities manager at McCabe Hall.

· Inadvertently caused the government shutdown earlier this year when a high-level government worker found and plugged in the website she developed in her high school HTML class and launched it as healthcare.gov. After several panicked phone calls from Kathleen Sebilius’ office, Catharine was able to use her excessive amounts of spare time (freed up when she ended her urban farming venture) to completely redo the website while, at the very same time, brokering a compromise with members of Congress and getting the government back up and running.

Lady:

· 7 years old, a cocker spaniel

· During a summer visit to the vet, we learned that Lady has become a much sweeter, calmer dog, making her the first member of the family to actually become less dysfunctional during her time as a Skoog.

· Because of her obvious intelligence and copious amounts of free time, she was tapped by Amazon to be one of their first drone test pilots.Initial results seemed promising, until it came to light that deliveries were being delayed because the drones were constantly dive bombing unsuspecting bunnies. Apparently it’s all fun and games until PETA gets involved.

Mark:

· Vice president of marketing at JDA Software.

· Is splitting his time between Scottsdale and Chicago, where he has been hired as Derek Rose’s personal trainer and rehab supervisor due to the storied success he enjoyed after his own meniscus repair. His job has just gotten more complicated with the addition of a new client, a young and extremely demanding man named Kanye, who is determined to have a better meniscus tear/rehab than anyone else’s and is really putting Mark through his paces.

Brigid:

· Recently left my job and am now devoting myself full time to my art (mark my words—the previously undiscovered beauty of doorknob decoupage is about to sweep the nation) and resuming my freelance career.

· Thanks to a flaw in the facial recognition software of onlyfarmers.com, I’ve spent a good deal of my time these days trying to answer emails/inquiries for someone named Marge from Wahoo, Nebraska, who apparently is looking for a sturdy man who can help her move pivots, tend the cattle, and whose interests include animal husbandry, aquifer conservation, hand harvesting, and beet canning. I’m just sending along the messages, but if I was Marge I’d go for Dewayne, who looked downright sexy in his (obviously) new overalls and seemed sincere when he wrote about his love for calving.

In other news:

· We moved Mark’s mom, Jeanne, down here in April. She’s living in Belmont Village, an assisted living facility about a quarter mile from our house, and she seems to be adjusting well. 

· Catharine will graduate from Marquette on May 18. Anyone who’s up for a trip to Milwaukee is more than welcome. Just a warning, though: there might actually be some beer consumed.