I've found this little "nook" at Panera. Single table situated right next to a cool wall sconce and tucked away in a corner so that I almost feel as if I'm NOT in a ridiculously overpriced, mediocre coffee, fatty soup national chain. I should be learning my lines, but it's a beautiful day outside...prime weather for people watching at Easton.

Two rather large women at a table outside (yes, it's THAT nice...and in October, no less) scarf down refined carbs and sport bad roots. One can only assume this is not their first meal of the day, as they chew and talk--often all at once--about kids and men and deals at Wal-mart. Four businessmen in crisp white shirts and boring ties sit at the table directly in front of me and discuss cars, football and finances, and block the aisleway (and consequently, my path to more coffee) with their over-stuffed briefcases, which are filled with expense reports and the drivel that steals time from their families and slowly squanders pieces of their souls (but hey, at least they can afford the baguettes).

A harried looking girl works the bagel counter and she runs like crazy trying to please everyone all the time, and one can only assume from the fine lines on her young forehead that work isn't the only place she does this; she has the tired look under her eyes that says she's in an endless loop of granting other people's wishes but never her own.

There's a young mother with a small boy and an oversized stroller, and she is met by a short black man who she greets as "Mr. Hill" and hugs awkwardly (parallel arms that hit him just under the armpits, so that he is forced to keep his arms parallel, too, but held higher, so that they wrap around her shoulders, because if he went any higher, he'd have her in some sort of weird sleeper hold.) The boy steals a sucker from his diaper bag and offers it to Mr. Hill, who flashes beautiful white teeth and says, "No, thank you." and gives the boy a pat on the head, the kind of pat you'd give your least favorite cat (the one you took in because it just kept hanging around, and in a brief moment of feline altruistic insanity decided to keep so your other cat could have "company".) Perhaps Mr. Hill and the mom are sleeping together, and this is their idea of a date, but because the kid is there, they have to continue pretending Mr. Hill is some sort of formal business associate, though it's obvious from the mom's "mom-jeans", mis-shapen t-shirt and ratty tennis shoes, she hasn't seen the inside of Corporate since the birth of Lollipop Boy ("Is 'Gwasshoppa' fwavored").

An older couple occupies yet another outside table, and they look like they're already dressed for next Saturday's big game against Illinois. They're so typical "Ohio" that I can only smile and shake my head...you know, that cross of upper middle class suburbanite (I'm guessing Gahanna), but born and bred from the good farm genes that made this state great. Hefty, solid, Midwest stock, but in really expensive OSU gear. The kind of people that drink Bud Light by the case, but paid over $300,000 for a small, cookie-cutter MI home in a pretentious neighborhood. I'm pretty sure she also dresses the stone goose on her porch to coincide with the holidays.

My coffee is cold now and needs to be warmed, but there's a rather large suitcase in the aisle, as apparently one of the businessmen is from out of town (big meeting about marketing soccer stadiums?). And--apparently--he's from someplace where it's socially acceptable to occupy my bee-line to a legally addictive stimulant with his Samsonite.

And now, time to learn lines.

1. Wow. Tonight I was rendered speechless, and for those of you who know me...well, this is no easy task. Suffice it to say, it was a good speechless. And there was a lot of blushing on my part, as well.

2. My roommate has meningitis. Yikes. Send up a prayer, cross your fingers--whatever you do to get a leg up in life--that I won't get this disease as well. I mean, the boy is SICK. I seriously think he may have been awake, oh, maybe eight hours or so in the last five days. He also had to have a spinal tap, TWICE, and did the throwing up thing too. Sarah does not like to throw up. She would not like to have meningitis. Work on this, people.

3. So the new dog isn't working out so well. I'm not really sure what to do about this. I feel like I've tried everything I can think of, but nothing's changing like it did with The Pipp. So does anyone out there want a dog? She's very, very, needy, but also incredibly sweet and cuddly. I think she needs a crazy, busy family so she gets a ton of attention and stimulation, preferably with a mom that stays home a lot (she's probably only in her crate like maybe four hours a day, but this still seems like too much for her) and a fenced in backyard to run around in (terrible on a leash). I'll be looking up shelters/humane societies tomorrow, but if anyone is interested let me know (she's all black, about 30 pounds, clumsy as all hell, but a good dog overall.)

4. Bedtime.

You know you've found a good friend when you're out shopping and you have a conversation that goes something like this:

Lisa: I really like these shoes. Don't you?
Me: (Makes face)
Lisa: (laughs) So you don't like them.
Me: They're not my favorite. Don't you like these? (holds up a kick-ass metallic strappy number)
Lisa: They're very "you".
Me: What's that mean?
Lisa: Oh you know...
Me: Well these are "you". (holds up ho-hum pointy flats). And oh wait, these are boring...you'd probably like these.
Lisa: Oh yeah? What about these? They're pretty ugly, I'm sure you'll like them.
(Sarah and Lisa now move rapidly up and down aisles picking up various examples and yelling...)
Me: Oooo, look, plain brown boring ones! Do you want to buy them?
Lisa: These are hideous...didn't you say you were looking for something like this?
Me: Oh wow. These are cheap and have no personality...perfect for you!
Lisa: These look like hooker shoes...I bet you want them for Christmas, huh?

Oh, good times and laughter at the shoe store. :)

I just saw the most chilling, scary movie of the year today.

No, it didn't involve blood, gore, severed fingers or screaming. There was no suspense, no hacking people up with chainsaws, or weird underground mutants who want to rip your head off.

It's called Jesus Camp (www.jesuscampthemovie.com), and I've never cried quite like that for a film, or been so angry, or wanted so much to make my life better as a result of seeing this documentary. I'm not sure every one will have the reaction I did. Most of my tears were a result of my upbringing, and most of my anger was from feeling like I wasted so much of my life on something that doesn't make sense the way it used to. At one point, Lisa leaned over to me and had to ask if I was okay. This was after a particularly disturbing part that she had just finished commenting on by saying, "No way. People don't really do that, do they?"...and then I watched as her mouth fell open when I was able to recite along.

They do. And I can state unequivocally now that it's wrong. We were wrong. It's all wrong. In today's climate of gray, this is something that I feel is very black and white. Clear cut. Wrong. I'm pretty sure Jesus had some specific intentions about how he wanted his followers to be, and the same dude who ate with prostitutes and thieves is probably a little appalled at how his views have been so twisted and skewed as to so fit and align with the Religious Right. I have the feeling that the same peaceful guy who got pissed off, not at Caesar, but at the religious/political hybrid that was taking over synagogues and worship would go into a modern, evangelical church that has not only an American flag in it, but a cardboard cut-out of George Bush and start flipping tables. (Especially with kids involved...you know, all that stuff about whoever misguides the little ones deserves to have a millstone hung around his neck and thrown into the sea.)

The thing is, there will be people who watch the film and be proud and say, "What a great way for our cause to be spread." They won't see the problem, they'll see the opposition as just not having "the truth", and any flak they receive will be "suffering for Jesus." I feel as though I can't change anything about them...and I can't decide if I even want to. I do know that I need to get my head out of my ass and truly figure out what I believe. I know what I don't believe--that's easy enough--but for a person to be able to sit down, as the (misguided?) people in this movie do, and say, "THIS is it", without any doubt, well, that's a little tougher. Especially when you feel like you're starting from scratch.

I felt like today that there's something I can do, but I don't know what. I feel as though I'm on the cusp of something great...be it a discovery or a revelation or just a different mindset. Scary movie, yes...but a good kick in the pants, as well. See it, if you will, but be prepared to think.

Or hell, skip it and go see "Employee of the Month."