Good, old-fashioned Christian values.

"You know, B. asked us to pray for R. yesterday at Bible Study."

"Really? Why?"

"Oh, I guess her doctor found a lump or something."

"Oh my goodness. How scary!"

"I know, it's terrible. But honestly, when B. asked, I felt a little irritated about. It just seemed inappropriate. R.'s not a member of our group. She doesn't go to church. I don't even know if she's a Christian. I really wonder if I should have to pray for R."

"Maybe she just needs to be shown the way..."

"The church is right there. She can't miss it. Honestly, if R. needs the help of holy Jesus, she needs to ask for it herself. It wouldn't hurt her to get herself to church on Sunday, maybe do a little praying on her own."

"No, but still..."

"God helps those that help themselves and, frankly, I have enough people, that have actually embraced Jesus as their Savior, that I have to pray for every night. I can't be responsible for the help and healing of every pagan on this post."

I'm hot. Sort of.

Have you made your celebrity look-a-like collage on MyHeritage.com?

I resisted. Mainly because I've gotten only about a bajillion emails about it in the past few weeks. But after a while, instead of being annoyed, I became fascinated. Watching some of your most attractive friends morph from themselves to Newt Gingrich and back again can do that to you. Some of the matches are absolutely hilarious. (Except for the Roseanne one for you, M. It's obviously a heinous, horrible codding mistake. Really. Your noses look nothing even remotely similar).

So I did it. I had to know who I looked like.

First I uploaded what I consider to be the most attractive recent photo of me. But wouldn't you know, every time I uploaded it, the stupid software told me that it couldn't find a face. Conspiracy? Perhaps. Obviously, when I'm looking my best, I can't be matched with Lance Armstrong or Snuffalapagus. So then I put in a second photo that included both myself and CPT Dick. I didn't realize that it could match two faces at one time. And, as you'll see below, this ended up being a serious added bonus.

So without further ado, our celebrity matches:


So like, according to MyHeritage, I'm kinda hot in that geeky, weird looking girl kind of way. But my husband? My husband is a bombshell! Brigitte Bardot? Eliza Dushku? Hot, hot, hot!

This opens up a whole new world of fantasy possibilities for when he finally comes home.

Sources needed.

A writer friend of mine needs sources for an article she's doing on military families and debt. Here's what she's looking for:

Hi, NEE! I'm hoping you can help me. For an article I'm writing, I'm looking for military spouses/families who found themselves in serious debt and somehow found a way out of it. Debt is something that we've all had to deal with and I'm hoping that this article can help other families who may think they are all alone with these kinds of problems.

If you fit the bill and are interested in going on record, email me at nonessentialequipment@gmail.com and I will put you in touch!

The problem with freelancing.

In the past few months, I've earned a bunch of money writing. That's the good news.

Now the bad news: I haven't yet collected a dime of it.

Oh, I've done the edits and submitted my invoices. But my well-deserved checks are either "in processing" or "in the mail." To date, not a single penny has been added to my checking register from any work after August 4th.

The worst part is that I should have had one of these checks months ago. I invoiced for the article in May, for goodness' sake. But the invoice got lost, the link wasn't in the system, yadda yadda yadda (add in whatever accounts payable excuse is needed), and so my check was never cut.

And despite the mistake being on their end, I was informed that I'd still have to wait 4-6 weeks for a new one. 'Cause, like, that's their payment cycle. Apparently, you cannot, under any circumstances, fuck with a corporate payment cycle. It might change the future as we know it. So you just have to wait and hope that whatever mistake made them miss your invoice the first time won't happen again.

So I waited. And I just found out (finally!) that this particular check was cut last week. My editor, being a total peach, decided to express mail it to me to make up for the delay. So when I got the tracking number, I immediately headed on over to the tracking website, expecting to see that my check was only hours away from delivery.

But, um, instead, it just was scanned in California. Why something would go from New York to Germany by way of California is just beyond me. My quest for this single check is now seriously bordering on the ridiculous. Will I ever receive it? Am I just destined to be poor forever?

These are the days that I really, really miss my regularly scheduled full-time paychecks.

For a seriously hilarious trip in the way back machine.

Check out 15 Minute Lunch's "Strap in, shut up and hold on. We're going back."

'Cause, like, seriously? Can there ever be enough terry cloth?

Gift ideas for your runner.

For a magazine review, I tried out the Nike+ iPod Nano sensor this week. I'm more of what you'd call a casual runner -- I usually hit somewhere around 10-15 miles per week -- and so often the running gadgets that CPT Dick likes (he who runs 25+ miles a week and likes to rub it in my face) are a little too much of a pain in the butt for me to find helpful. After all, I'm not trying to run a marathon. And you know? If I walk for a few minutes during a 8 mile run? IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD AND DOES NOT MEAN THAT I AM A WUSS.

So this baby? It is AWESOME. And really, it would work for any level runner. You can use it for walking or running. And if you don't have the specific Nike+ shoe, no biggie. You can get a sensor pocket for a couple of bucks on Amazon to attach it to your shoelaces. So you can have the gadget without having to pay an extra $50 for shoes with a little foam insert.

The sensor tracks miles run, time and other variables. You can upload your data to a Nike+ website to track your progress. But I think my favorite part is the power song. You know that song? That song that is guaranteed to help you up that big hill? Instead of slowing down as you hit the hill to search through your thousands of songs to find it, you can set the song earlier and just press the middle button on the iPod to get it going. It rocks. And it isn't that expensive -- under $30. (Of course, you do have to have an iPod Nano, but most guys I know who run already do).

Anyway, if you were having trouble thinking of what to get the runner in your life. Check this out.

Brilliant.

I'm a big fan of the "Lives" section of the Sunday New York Times Magazine. And not just because the editor *almost* accepted one of my essays to run in it. The essays are edgy and make me think. This week's essay is no exception.

Check out "Son of the South" by Robert Leleux.

Things I never thought I'd say as a mother.

• "Stop! That table is glass. If you are going to jump, go jump on the couch."
• "Try to throw up on Mommy, honey."
• "What? You want Mommy to tickle your balls?" [We were tickling his stuffed animals and then he came over with two soccer balls for me to tickle next. I didn't realize what I had said until CPT Dick doubled over with laughter].
• "We do not flush diapers down the toilet."
• "Do you want to sit on the potty? No? Okay. I'm going to go potty. Do you want to see Mommy go potty?"
• "Dog poop is not a toy!" [And for the record, neither is horse or goose poop].
• "Wow! You can walk fast in high heels!"

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

In the newest Vanity Fair, Julia Roberts says:

"My dream is to be a highly fulfilled and productive stay-at-home mom and wife," the Oscar-winning actress tells Vanity Fair magazine. "The highest high would be growing our food that I then make, and then composting and growing more -- that kind of circle."

Stay-at-home Mom, huh? Then tell me, Julia, how come you go on to say that you want to work with Denzel again? The tens of millions of dollars you've already made aren't enough to start your own compost pile?

Gotta love the things that come out of celebrities' mouths.