I think I've decided to stop feeling sheepish about believing in God. I don't really have any apologies about it; everyone has inconsistencies in their world views. Show me someone who's built their house on a rock, and I show you a rock that's going to turn to sand sooner or later. You could just not build a house at all, maybe, but what sort of a life is that? Home Depot stocks would plummet, the real estate bubble would burst, and Alan Greenspan would STILL not give a shit.

The other night one of my friends got into an argument about whether or not the Catholic church should actively discourage the use of condoms and other birth control. In the end it sort of came down to the idea that the church, if it is to be a moral institution, ought to be consitent in its arguments--and it is. The problem is that many of us have a different organization of priorities and values; I happen to believe that it is better for someone's physical being to be free of HIV than for their soul to be saved. I can't put words into their mouths, of course, but I think it's safe to say that Catholics might think that eternal damnation is a shade worse than hepatitis. I have plenty of half-assed convictions, but I still consumer my not-so-fair share of fossil fuels, eat tomatoes that were probably picked by desperate people, don't call my parents often enough, neglect to answer emails, AND I never, ever return library books on time.

We saw Prairie Home Companion last week and I came away convinced that the thing I need most in life is probably an autoharp. It was hilarious how well Garrison Kiellor and his folks know his audience. His impressions of kids in the car whining for Mom to turn off NPR hit eerily close to home--and hit even more eerily close to the assertion that I am slowly turning into my oppressors--one day I will be my mother.

Potlucks have thus far been exquisite and ended in singalongs.