Good intentions

So I thought I’d blog today about it being Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent. I thought I’d talk about sacrifice and fasting and the ways I’ve failed in most of the Lent fasts I’ve ever set out to complete. I thought I’d write about the things I’ve learned about God during Lent, the moments in which I’ve pushed all things aside and focused on God completely, or the things I learned about myself and my own limitations.

Then, after last night’s storms, I thought I’d blog about growing up in tornado country. Or the time in college when straight line winds blew a portion of my dorm’s roof right off the building and into the parking lot. And how disturbed we were that it landed on and destroyed the car parked in the handicapped spot. That guy was so nice, and he didn’t deserve that! And then there was that time that tornadoes hit Columbia, the sirens went off, and they packed all of the residents of Mark Twain Hall into the basement. And the photo-journalism students spent the entire time hanging out the basement doors, then hopped in their cars and drove all over town, looking for that shot that would make them stand out from the pack of J-school students at Mizzou. Then there was me, the slacker mag journalism student who had long since decided she didn’t have the drive or desire to be the next Woodward and Bernstein. I stayed in the dorm basement wearing my pajamas chatting with my roommate while the “good” journalism students chased tornados and fame.

Then, on my drive to work, I saw it. The Oscar Meyer Weinermobile. Parked across the street from my office building. And that, my friends, made my morning. And made me think of that time in high school when we went to Columbia for the state Quiz Bowl competition. And found the Weinermobile.

And, yes, I do regret those pants.