During my Annual Performance Review with my supervisor yesterday, we were discussing a training process that he'd like to see me involved in. I was nodding intently and tracking our discussion until I heard him say, "Within the next year, I'd like to see you engaged." Say what? He was the last person I'd have expected to take an interest in my love life (or utter lack thereof)! I had a few moments of confusion, during which it seemed likely that I'd say something to the effect of, Whoa, there - back off!, but when his meaning sank in, I started laughing. He meant that he'd like to see me engaged in the training process within the next year, not engaged to be married! And I had wondered if he'd been talking to my mother...
You know you've been single for too long when your boss lists "get engaged" among your 12-month career goals!
29 September 2009
20 September 2009
Vanity of Vanities...
You have to understand something about me for this entry to make sense. For as long as I can remember, I've been a nail biter. I never really mean to bite my nails, but it just kind of happens when I'm stressed or pensive or annoyed by an odd nail shape - so maybe sometimes I do mean to bite them. In any case, this bad habit means that my nails only have a chance to grow long enough to be painted every several months or so. Then they may stay nice, long, and painted for a couple of weeks until one of them breaks and I cut them short again.
Over a month ago, they grew to the paint-worthy length and, in an unprecedented twist of events, they stayed that way for about a month. I painted them multiple times, trimming and filing them carefully to avoid breaks. I felt like a grown-up woman with my long, painted nails - and found the color on my fingertips somewhat distracting (and sometimes all-absorbing).
Then, a few Sundays ago, I was sitting in church and admiring my lovely pink nails while listening to the sermon. (Though distracted by their loveliness, I really was listening.) I didn't realize the extent of my vanity until the preacher asked, "If Jesus were to walk into church right now, what would He say to us?" The first thought that sprang to my mind was, "I'm pretty sure He'd say, 'Nice nails!'"
At times like this, it seems most appropriate to quote Ecclesiastes: "Vanity of vanities," says the Preacher, "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity" (1:2). But honestly, check out the photo below and tell me if my vanity was unfounded!
Over a month ago, they grew to the paint-worthy length and, in an unprecedented twist of events, they stayed that way for about a month. I painted them multiple times, trimming and filing them carefully to avoid breaks. I felt like a grown-up woman with my long, painted nails - and found the color on my fingertips somewhat distracting (and sometimes all-absorbing).
Then, a few Sundays ago, I was sitting in church and admiring my lovely pink nails while listening to the sermon. (Though distracted by their loveliness, I really was listening.) I didn't realize the extent of my vanity until the preacher asked, "If Jesus were to walk into church right now, what would He say to us?" The first thought that sprang to my mind was, "I'm pretty sure He'd say, 'Nice nails!'"
At times like this, it seems most appropriate to quote Ecclesiastes: "Vanity of vanities," says the Preacher, "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity" (1:2). But honestly, check out the photo below and tell me if my vanity was unfounded!
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