I confess that I have a standard order at every restaurant I go to, an order from which I rarely deviate. I confess that if I go to a brand new place, I order something that is as similar as possible to my other standard orders. I’m trying to figure out what this says about me. Do I just have great taste – so why mess with greatness? Am I hopelessly unadventurous? Am I an old dog? I confess that it seems like I should try new things a little more.
I confess that despite my best efforts I have officially started to care about college basketball again. I spent too much time watching college football this fall and was trying to avoid the same with basketball, but now I’m fully in. The same thing happened last year so I’m prepared. Now comes the inevitable close-but-no-cigar ending (I’m a Kansas State fan – close-but-no-cigar is what we do).
I confess that I am now at the age where I have to use the bathroom at least once or twice during the night. I confess that our TV remote control is one of those where all of the buttons light up when you push any one of them. I confess that I often carry the remote to the bathroom with me, pushing the volume button repeatedly in order to provide just enough light so that I can make my way to the can without stubbing my toes. I confess that this always provides me with my own private mid-night chuckle.
I confess that NASCAR is starting next weekend and I am stoked. I confess – as I often do – that I feel just a little bit guilty that I love NASCAR the way I do. It’s so far outside my normal zone that I literally can’t explain it, but I absolutely love it. I do not love restrictor-plate racing (when they race with a kind of “governor” on the car), but I still love the Daytona 500. I confess that although I can’t stand Go Daddy’s marketing, I’m glad Danica Patrick won the pole for the big race.
I confess that I gave up late night snacks for Lent. At Redemption Church where I’m the pastor, we make a pretty big deal out of Lent each year. Our tradition is that Sunday is a celebration of the resurrection. You don’t fast on Sundays. Whatever you gave up for lent you can partake in each of the 6 Sundays. So I stayed up until 1:30 last night and ate a ton of food. I confess that I’m already paying for it this morning, and will pay dearly in a few hours when it’s time to go run. It’s going to hurt!
I confess that I’m still working on an article for HuffPo about evangelicalism. I keep coming up with new angles to explore & cannot find a way to narrow it down.
I confess that my writing time has taken a beating over the last three months. During the holidays there was no time. The church has monopolized my time the past two months and haven’t gotten much done. I confess that I’m digging a hole that might be tough to get out of.
DOWNTON ABBEY SPOILER ALERT! Don’t read on if you haven’t seen the finale:
I confess that I thought killing off Matthew was a cheap plot twist in Downton Abbey. Too much soap opera.
I confess that I watched the first episode of House of Cards last week… I’m immediately hooked. It has everything I like. Good writing, good actors, well produced, and it’s about politics. I confess that this will not help with the writing-hole I’m digging for myself.
I confess that I’m listening to my wife read the Shiloh books to my boys right now. What is it about the story of a boy and his dog that is nearly universally appealing to the male species? Every night I’m right alongside the boys asking mom to read another chapter. Here’s to feeling like a kid again!
I confess that I’m not ready for winter to be over, but it’s starting to feel like spring.
Okay folks – I made my confession. Now it’s time for you to make yours:
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