I'm going to miss Donovan...

General consensus is this: I'm a pretty nice person. And I have to agree. Sure, I've had my share of the occasional breaking of one of the Ten Commandments thing - who hasn't? But on Judgement Day, I'd like to think I've got a pretty good shot of making it passed Purgatory and heading straight on up the ladder to hang out with the heavenly choir of angels and such.

I'm sure going to miss not being with my husband for eternity.

I can admit when I've done wrong. I'll acknowledge my mistakes and seek forgiveness. And in most cases, shoplifting a bottle of nail polish from Zellers is pardonable.

But how can you excuse calling a Man of the Cloth a terrible name?

You see, just the other week, Dono and I went out for ice cream at the BDI (Bridge Drive-In) - Home of the Creamiest Shakes in Town, so they claim (I go for the hot fudge sundaes myself) - and standing before us at the order window, was none other than locally-acclaimed pastor of Winnipeg's Calvary Temple, Bruce Martin.

What happened next, although taking mere moments, seemed to go in slow motion.

"Hey, that's that Calvary Temple bastard!", exclaimed Donovan.

Pastor Martin turned slightly - was it sounds from the street that caught his attention? A few birds fighting over a crumb in the parking lot perhaps?

Perhaps.

Whatever Donovan needs to tell himself to get to sleep at night.

But I'm convinced (as I'm sure Dono is, subconsciously) that Pastor Martin turned slightly to getter a better peripheral glance of the man who just insulted the most popular bible-endorser this city has ever known. Did he want to get a look at the man whose soul he needed to save? Or maybe it was to look at a man who had just doomed his soul forever?

I quickly changed the subject and began talking loudly to distract the good Pastor - "So, those shakes - are they REALLY the creamiest shakes in town?"

After we had collected our icy treats, we retreated to the car, and it was here that I told Donovan of my observations...of how he spoke maybe just a little too loudly, and how the Pastor had more than likely heard the comment.

Donovan, my good husband, immediately felt the guilt, and tried to back pedal his way out of his newly-inherited demise. "I didn't mean it like that!", he insisted, repeatedly. Was it me he was trying to convince....or himself? He even went so far as to suggest going to the Calvary Temple and apologizing to the man in person.

But, no efforts have yet been made in that attempt.

I sure am going to miss my husband.

Currently playing: U2 - Until the End of the World