I have entered the phase of my own marathon training when my interests can be neatly divided into “eating more” and “sleeping now.” Yesterday I woke up at eight o’clock… which is the time I’m supposed to be here. That was a treat. Today I was awake in a timely manner and am now both sleepy and busy. And I’m eating crackers.

If you’re wondering where the hell your zine is, and I bet you are, it’s on my desk with a brand new cover. I hated the original and mailed out only two before doing a redesign. I’m mailing them this week. I’m sorry. I suck.

We’re doing new tee shirts for the church. I’m striving desperately not to use the official church logo, because it’s ghastly. It was designed by that horrible woman who wanted me to “fix” her gay son, and it’s a clunky mess. By the way, since I refused to participate in her weird little project, she’s been passive aggressively criticizing me every time she sees me.

But her criticisms are so hilarious, it’s very hard to mind them. You see, I’m a pretty low maintenance girl. I seldom wear above five cosmetics, for instance. But this woman has taken it into her head that I am vain about my appearance and should pray to be delivered from such unholy vanity. Every chance she gets, she tells me another story about how her youthful vanity kept her from her prayers and about how glad she is to be troubled no longer. I’ve known her my whole life, and frankly, I’ve never seen any trace of the vanity she’s talking about. What I have seen is a lot of orthopedic sneakers and lacey socks with elastic-waist capri pants and an unwaxed lip.

Yesterday I got a vintage silk secretary blouse at Goodwill for a buck. On Sunday I will wear it with years-old jeans, a belt I made myself, and hand me down shoes and wait for one of the following: That’s a great top, Churchrat. You must spend hours and hours reading Vogue to have such well-developed fashion sense. or Buying pretty, expensive things like that must make tithing really hard on your budget.

Back to School sales at Goodwill are not for the tender of heart. I’m still kind of bummed about that whole experience.

Seriously? Have you seen me? I’m not vain. I’m a brunette.