I went to one of my favorite local Texas chains today for lunch. I have a like/dislike relationship with the place since they redid the menu a few years back, but it's still good.
Lately, I can't get enough of their Veggie Tart. It might sound very un-Texas, but it's really good. It's a pastry shell topped with a bit of pesto, sauteed spinach, roasted tomatoes and artichokes, and then finished off with some tasty goat cheese. I love it.
Today, I couldn't find any partners in crime, so I decided to take myself to lunch and read the book that I keep staying up and reading. When I got to the car, I realized I had forgotten the book, so decided I would make the best of it with me, myself, and I.
After I picked up my food, I squeezed into an open table and sat very close to some other guests. I thought that their conversations might be interesting to listen to since I wouldn't be having any with myself in public.
Within a matter of five minutes, I heard the 50ish ladies to my left drop the M.F- bomb, and then the 60ish men on my right dropped the regular F-bomb. I was apparently in an F-bomber war zone. I kept thinking, "Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Jesus loves dirty mouths, too."
But I'm really not comfortable with that type of language, and in an instant my desire to eavesdrop (which also is unholy) immediately left, and I realized that even though these people were dressed to the nines, their hearts might not be in great shape.
I have to catch my own self sometimes when words are tempted (or actually do sneak out) to flow from my lips which are not so honorable. In Proverbs in says, "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." So when worty-dirds are coming from me, I know I need a heart check.
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