Oops!

In the post before this one, I say that I've never really been about boundaries.

Yes I have!

So, apologies to any who might have read that line.

I was about boundaries when I believed there was a distinction between those who were members of the country club and those, like me, who only visited there once and knew instaneously that I had somehow crossed a line between those who think they have and those who think they have not.

I knew the city limits of my town did more than define our taxable properties. In my mind, that boundary was to keep me contained, away from the adventures that I was convinced loomed around the next bend.

I grew up believing there were good girls and bad girls and I could almost recite the activities in sing song verse that would push the good ones over to the dark side.

The threshold to a household was a line I did not cross unless I was invited and then only if I'd declined the offer several times. Southerners and vampires have more than one thing in common it seems.

Categories defined my religious life, professional life, and often even my personal life. Faith, education, gender, race -- I've lived with lines all my life.

Oops!