Deep.

I have a tale to tell you. It's not a tall one. Promise.

These past two weeks have been hard. Really hard. You got a taste of that in my last morbidly depressing fiasco of a blog. Woof.

Anyway. This tale's got all the fixin's for a proper story..ya know, remorse, atonement, hope, revelation, reconciliation, some parasitic invasion, and one very well placed expletive.

Forward march.

I opened this morning at Goleta Coffee. Ya know. The ush. That's supposed to be the abbreviation for the usual. But I haven't quite figured out how to spell that sound that that s makes. So yeah.

Opening at Goleta Coffee. I do it four days a week. I love my job. But four days a week at 5:15am is pretty rough. But alas, that's not a point of interest in this tale. I opened at Goleta Coffee and worked a whopping four hours...I finaggled my boss into letting me off early so I could go hang out with my campy peeps that are down doing the Disney thing and calling out prices for Mr. Carey...so I got off at 9am this morning...thinking that I was driving home to stay the night in Riverside, hit up Knotts Scary Farm, ya know, just some good times with some good friends...but that plan backfired awhile ago, but I still had the time off since once you work the schedule out at GoCo, you don't go back on it. My boss is pretty cray cray. So I got off at 9. Went and took my second to last bartending class, I graduate tomorrow. That's a whole nother story we can get into at a later date. So work, then class, then work again, oh, after a brief stint at the thrift store, where I purchased some Patagonia corduroy shorts. Legit.

Work. Class. Thrift store. Work again.

This is where the tale starts gettin' good.

So a couple days ago I made some purchases. I bought a bed and some saaaweeeeet bean bag chairs. At a thrift store of course. Well, although I don't have much of a problem with used furniture, my boss does. Other boss. I have two bosses right now. One is a chick. That's GoCo boss. The other is a dude. An older dude. That's the nanny boss. I care for his children. And I love them all with my whole heart. Edson, Jemma, Rovenna.

Edson called me last night, in the middle of bartending class, warning me about...bed bugs. Apparently it's an epidemic. I had no idea. So here I am, learning how to make 'screaming orgasms' and 'gorilla tits', when my boss chimes in about bed bugs. So I freak out. I really had no idea about this whole epidemic and now he's basically threatening to fire me if I come to work having slept in a bed that could potentially have bed bugs. Because it will cost him upwards of 10,000 bucks to fumigate his house. All completely hypothetical. So today, I got to work after thrifting...I have to be there twenty minutes early to have a discussion with Edson. I thought it was going to be about the bed bugs.

Little did I know, it was time for me to be confronted about a terrible wrong I'd been doing.

I get into the house and Edson's at the computer. I'm feeling nervous because I don't want to just ditch the bed I bought because I paid good money for it. Hard earned cash ya know? So I'm getting ready to get defensive, I've got my gun loaded with all sorts of excuses and methods of denying these hypothetical bed bugs any sort of existence in our lives.

And here come's Edson ducking in on the blindside. No milfy Sandra Bullock here. Just a 64 yr old man, playing father to more girls than he bargained for.

He starts out talking about how his family loves me, they appreciate me, that I'm great and blah dee blah...you know the shpiel right before you're about to get snipped? So there's a whole lotta internal turmoil threatening explosion right now. And then Edson starts talking about Jemma. Jemma's the older of the two girls I nanny. She's 15. He goes on to say that Jemma is a lot of things but she's never been much for lying.

And then the words, "Jemma tells me you've been texting while driving with them."

You know how in books and in the movies people talk about how their stomach just fell right out the bottom of them, their heart seizes up, the tears are on the cusp of the lid, waiting to well out....yeah, all those and more, racking my body. I've created a terrible habit when I'm alone in my car. I text because it's simple for me. My legs are so long that I can drive with my knee..in fact, even when my hands aren't occupied, I sometimes prefer to drive with my knee. It's risky. Thrilling. Dangerous.

Reckless.

I'm stupid. Incredibly stupid.

There's no excuse for my behavior. I let a bad habit carry over into not only endangering my own life, but endangering the lives of two people that I love the very most in this world. And when Edson railed me, literally pelted me with words I haven't heard since I was 12, I nearly lost it, because I never thought twice. I'd become so accustomed to texting while I was alone in my car, that I just continued to do so with my girls in the car. And duh, even when I'm alone, I'm still endangering others. Edson reamed me with all the laws I'm breaking, the prison sentence I'd face should an accident occur, garnished wages for the rest of my life when I get out because of how hard I'd get sued, all the scare tactics parents use, but his weren't simply to scare me. Edson cares about me. He's sooo incredibly genuine, warm, kind, compassionate. And although he's my boss, I value his opinions as a daughter would her father. And today I had one of those moments. I felt like a little girl, being chastised by her father, and I appreciated it so much. Obviously his intentions were to protect his own children, but his concern for me was just as evident. And that was huge for me. I might cry right now as I'm typing...yup, there it is, tears on the cheeks. To have a man care that much for my well-being is pretty much unheard of in this life of mine. Craig did a phenomenal job of it this past year, and Johnny tries, bless his heart, he loves me so, but Edson, for a man that doesn't believe in Jesus, he sure is living an authentic and compassionate life. And I adore him.

Edson goes on to tell me if it happens again, kaput. I'm done. Out. Ba bye. And then he goes on to drop the expletive.

He's talking about how I have all these incredible qualities that he wants to bleed out onto his daughters and then he says it, first time I've ever heard him say it...he's 5'1', 64 years old, a  precious older man...and there it was, "you're so FUCKING bright. Gosh." Emphasis on the expletive. This is not sarcastic in the slightest.

Legitimately, the most endearing and uplifting thing anyone has ever said to me. He speaks truth into my life. In an honest and unabashed way.

He goes on for a little bit longer and then we talk about bed bugs for awhile. Problem is solved because the epidemic hasn't reached this side of the country yet.

The bean bag chairs are incredible. Sorry, I just had to throw that out there, retail value is close to 300 bucks. I got em for 20 each. Cheeyaah.

Blah blah blah.

This public confession is my means of atonement. I'm a terrible person. Stupid. But also my means of appreciation. As often as Satan tries to tell me otherwise, people love me. People care about me. These past two weeks have been lonely as hell. Although hell probably isn't that lonely of a place. But lonely all the same. I have two groups of friends here in SB. The one's I got drunk with. And the ones I proclaimed Jesus with. Since I'm not much of a drinker anymore (bartending school would speak otherwise, but don't listen), I don't really want to hang out with the folks I drank with. And since I'm not leading YoungLife this year, I don't get to proclaim Jesus with all the leader friends of yore.

Hence the loneliness.

Oh, and I moved into my new apartment but my roomies are gone for the week. One in Boston. One in San Diego.

So big grand incredible apartment. With one occupant. Yours truly.

Hence the loneliness.

But today feels better. There is hope. There is confession. Revelation. Redemption. There is authentic love. Deep guttural love and compassion, choked out in speech bubbles all over the world. Speak life dear friends.

Speak life.