I've been shopping churches a little. I tend to get a little teary at church, which is embarrassing when your church consists of Men of the Order and Ladies of the League and Club. I had to make a move.
The problem is, I'm really looking for my hometown church, circa 1985. I want mandatory coat-and-tie and pantyhose in my very liberal denomination. This does not exist, even in said hometown church. I'd have to go Pentecostal, and I don't think I could take it.
Today I tried my denomination in the heart of my neighborhood. No ties here, baby. Peeps were wearing jeans. And sweatshirts. The minister had a ponytail. One guy brought in a two-liter of something pink. I didn't catch the label; I didn't want to stare too long. Having said all of that, these people were warm and genuine. Several of them approached me to say hello. One woman told me she might move back to Maryland due to it's proximity to Delaware and their more reasonable Senatorial voting. Yes, she was wearing an embroidered sweatsuit. Does it really matter?
I only cried once, probably because I was mentally crafting this blog post. Also, they have a lovely preschool should I need it for Baby Shagari. Perhaps I've found my home. I'll simply need to readjust my wardrobe and remember to take my Sigg along.
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