I am not complaining

I am in the midst of a wacky church project. We are on a "complaint diet." We are trying to give up all complaining for 21 days straight.

At first, I didn't think it would be that hard. Then I found out that gossiping counted as complaining. Whoops.

To remind ourselves of this commitment, we are wearing blue rubber wristbands. If I want to complain, I have to move the wristband to my other arm to bring my attention to the fact that I am going to complain.

You know what this means, don't you? A knife through the heart of my blog.

First I decide I can't write about work. Then I determine that I should keep the family and friends talk to a minimum to avoid embarrassing anyone. I'm too shy to talk about sex. And now complaining is banned.

Aren't kittens wonderful? Aren't bunnies cute?

THIS IS KILLING ME.

I guess I will talk about memories for the next 3 weeks. Name a year after, oh, say 1968 and I will hit you with something from the Fascinating Life of Sueb0b.

Here's one: 1989 (I think).

My sister Laura and I are sitting in the front yard in downtown San Luis Obispo on a beautiful sunny day.

Two teen boys walk by, deep in conversation.

Boy 1: (fervently) "There was NO flying. There was NO hidden treasure."

Laura and I looked at each other.

And that, my friends, is one of my most cherished memories. To this day, when my sis and I ask each other how an event was, if it was less than fabulous, the other will say, "Well, there was no flying, there was no hidden treasure."