My church doesn’t have a Good Friday service, but a church I belonged to a few years ago had an annual “Service of Darkness” — aptly named, since its sole focus was the death of Christ. Some people complained that the service was “too depressing,” preferring to avoid the fact that the joy of Easter came at a terrible price. But I remember feeling that I wouldn’t really “earn” Easter if I didn’t attend the Service of Darkness, which seems sort of ironic now that I think about it.

Nobody earns Easter. We never did, and never will, deserve the forgiveness that God offers in Christ. But sometimes the magnificent story of our redemption becomes so familiar, the enormity of it almost escapes us. Hopefully at Easter we will pause, and ponder, and become amazed all over again that God would go to such great lengths for our salvation.

Surely our griefs He Himself bore,
And our sorrows He carried;
Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten of God, and afflicted.
But He was pierced through for our transgressions,
He was crushed for our iniquities;
The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him,
And by His scourging we are healed.

Isaiah 53: 4-5

It’s much harder to stick with a healthy eating plan at work than at home. So far this week, I’ve ignored a pile of chocolate cookies in a staff meeting, served ice cream at a special event without consuming any myself, and snubbed lemon pound cake and Girl Scout cookies in the breakroom. Now they tell me pizza’s coming this afternoon. I need to work in an office where people are into grilled chicken and carrot sticks.

I have fair skin. Not just fair in the sense of “lighter than average,” but the kind of skin tone that inspires clever poolside comments like, “Hey, do you use Liquid Paper for sunscreen?” When I was in college, I provided ego-boosting services for dormmates when tanning season began. Someone would whine, “I’m so whiiiiite,” and I’d display my own colorless forearm for comparison. After a quick side-by-side inspection, the girl would respond, “Wow, Karen, I’m really tan compared to you.” She’d walk away with a bounce in her step, while I slumped over in a deflated, light-reflecting heap.

Knowing that my survival depends on year-round use of sunscreen, my co-workers were kind enough to assign me an indoor job for an afternoon community event we’re planning for mid-April (which, in Phoenix, can approach equatorial conditions). When I heard about it, I was a little worried about the discussion that preceded that decision. But I was assured me that the phrase “freak of nature” was never used.

The 20th anniversary of “E.T.” brings back a painful memory. The school I was attending at the time decided to tie the movie’s hype into its homecoming theme that year, dubbing it “An E.T. Phone Homecoming.”

It’s not something we’re proud of.

I was checking out the Flavor Graveyard on the Ben & Jerry’s website, and found these on the list of discontinued flavors:
Ice Tea with Ginseng
Maple Grape Nut
Miz Jelena’s Sweet Potato Pie

Ugh. Even a die-hard ice cream fan like me couldn’t stomach any of these. (But Chunky Monkey is a completely different story....)

They recently changed our e-mail system at work, and I now have to enter one password, then another, then the first password again before I can get into the system. Did I suddenly start working for the CIA, and nobody told me? I feel like Maxwell Smart in the opening credits of “Get Smart.”

I was hanging out at my friend Patty's house Friday night, and realized I was too sleepy to endeavor the 30-minute drive home safely. (I typically don't make a gradual descent into drowsiness, but rather a sudden nosedive from Wide Awake to Nearly Comatose.) She invited me to stay in her guest room, and gathered a few supplies: a towel, soap, even a new toothbrush she'd picked up at a health fair. When she asked if I needed anything else, I fell into high-maintenance mode and suggested a chocolate for my pillow. I was surprised to see her head down the hall toward the kitchen, since Patty doesn't usually keep a supply of candy around. When I walked into the guest room a minute later, she was piling a handful of chocolate chips onto my pillow.

Finally, I can say I've stayed at a 5-star resort.

Our staff meeting was scheduled to begin at 11:30, but shortly after the supposed start time one of my co-workers stopped by my desk on her way out to get lunch. Since our meeting times are pretty sketchy, I thought I’d better see if the schedule had changed. Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: What time does our staff meeting start?
Her: 11:30
Me: It’s 11:33 now - what time does the meeting really start?
Her: 11:30
Me: But you guys are just now leaving to get lunch.
Her: (Shrug) It’s supposed to start at 11:30.

And they call us the Communications Department.

I don’t find celebrities particularly fascinating. I wonder why I’m supposed to be interested in what a particular actress wears off the set, how her home is decorated or what kind of bottled water she prefers. Brooke Shields came to Phoenix a few years ago, and the Arizona Republic ran a short article about her visit to the Cold Stone Creamery. An actress came to town and stopped for ice cream? This is news? But instead of just skipping over the article, I kept reading so I could find out what flavor she ordered. I loathed myself at that moment.

I bought a set of flexible chopping mats at Crate & Barrel over the weekend. There are four of them - color coded for different food categories: red for meat, green for vegetables, yellow for poultry and blue for seafood. It’s kind of like having Garanimals for the kitchen.

The following is a letter that was sent to the medical facility where I work. It's getting passed around through e-mail for laughs, and is so absurd we're wondering if it can possibly be for real....

Hi. My name is Greg Risher (not his real name) and i am mad! How come you have a place that only kids can go to? What if I get hit by a car and need to get my stomak pumped? I cant because I am 33? I pay taxes you no and you should take care of me if I get hit by a car, or a mac truck and it shouldn't matter if I'm 33 not 3. You guys are rasists and I think you should help me and others to if we are sick or get hit by a car. Let me no also if you guys are hiring people to work their. Not like a docter but to answer phones or something easy. Let me no.

Oh, for the day when someone works on my computer and it actually works better the next day....

Small-town Midwesterners tend to be a tad behind the times when it comes to cuisine. A friend told me about her visit to Riceville, Iowa, where a “Veggie Burger” on one restaurant’s menu turned out to be an all-beef burger accompanied by lettuce and tomato. (Pretty much everything else on the menu was fried.) Based on the culinary backwardness that seems to be common to that region, I think I'll just ignore the recipe for Thai Chicken I ran across in the Booster Club Cookbook from another small Iowa town. I’m definitely not making the “Chilighetti.”

I was reaching for a phone book from a high shelf in my pantry this morning, and watched what I thought was a White Pages directory plummet toward my head. It was actually a small board, which left its mark with a small gash and not-very-impressive bruise on my forehead. My co-worker Lori, eyeing my blue sweater and black skirt, commented this afternoon that I’d dressed to match my injury. My fashion-consciousness knows no bounds....

Have trouble remembering names? Observe the subtle approach to instant name recall:

I had an appointment yesterday morning at an office I’ve been to only a couple of times before. I checked in with the receptionist, then said hi to another employee I recognized from a previous visit. She returned my greeting, but disappeared into a hallway without stopping to talk. The receptionist followed her around the corner, and I heard someone whisper my name on the other side of the wall. Employee number 2 reappeared, this time stopping to ask, “How are you doing, Karen?”

I should have looked up with a blank expression and asked, “Who?”

I once confessed to my mom that I don’t always find time to make my bed before I make a dash for the office. She pointed out the very small amount of time required to complete this task. I thought of that this morning as I started to leave the house with my bedroom still in disarray. The morbid side of me wondered, “What if I’m in a terrible accident today? What will my mom think when she sees my room?!” So I took three minutes to straighten the room before I left. Mother guilt - it’s with us for life.