Tonight I took Tom Collins on a date to the drive-in theater. Even though we’ve only been together for two days, I’m already in love. He’s super sexy, never argues, and has a firm rear end. Of course, as you may remember, Tom Collins is my new car, which basically means I took myself on a date to the drive-in this evening. And we had a great time, thank you very much–me, myself, and Tom Collins–and one of us really enjoyed his cheeseburger, candy bar, and popcorn from the concession stand. But I’m not going to say who it was.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m working my way through a twelve-week (but not twelve-step) program for creativity called The Artist’s Way. One of the things the author, Julia Cameron, is pretty insistent about is something called The Artist’s Date, a once-a-week ritual that involves taking your inner artist on a creative outing of some sort. You could go to an art museum, watch a play, or–like I did tonight–go to a movie. (Since I’m an overachiever, I went to a double feature.) Hell, I guess you could even finger paint, so long as it’s something creative and no one else does it with you. (Julia is a hard ass on this point–no guests allowed!–but I’m assuming Tom Collins would be an exception.)

Before I left for the movies (Despicable Me 3 and Spider-man: Homecoming) I almost broke Julia’s rule and invited someone else along. I mean, I’m pretty comfortable doing things by myself (and I’m a rule follower), but sometimes it gets old. Plus, for the last few weeks I’ve been more emotional than usual. I’ve cried a lot. I thought someone else would be a nice distraction from all that. But I went alone. I mean, I don’t think Julia would A) find out or B) give a shit or C) track me down and beat me up if she did, but I didn’t want to take any chances. After all, she said The Artist’s Date was one of the things that was “non-negotiable,” and “non-negotiable” was in italics, so she must have meant it.

It may be that the activities in The Artist’s Way are partly or completely responsible for all the emotions I’ve been experiencing lately. As it turns out, when you write down your thoughts every day or take time out to get quiet and be by yourself, all the things you haven’t dealt with yet come hurling up from inside you like undercooked chicken from a fast food restaurant. (It’s not fun–I don’t recommend it.) But really, it’s been like an emotional roller coaster–angry one minute, sad the next, happy the next. Shampoo, rinse, repeat. I wish I could tell you there’s a better way to make progress in life–like cigarettes, liquor, or a popcorn bucket that comes with a free refill–but I guess there’s not. As John F. Barnes says, “The key to healing is feeling.”

I hate that (but it does seem to be true).

Earlier this week, I spoke with my therapist about The Artist’s Way, the blog, and all the writing work I’ve been doing, and she referred to it as “planting a seed,” something that–at some point–would grow and bear fruit.

I hope she’s right.

After the movies tonight I decided it would be a fabulous idea to stop at the casino on the way home. I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, was in a good mood, and figured it would be the perfect way for God to rain down showers of blessings in my general direction. I do this sort of thing a lot–not gamble–but try to tell God how he could best provide for me. I come up with fantasies about writing contests I could win or how some random hot guy at the library could propose after we both reach for Liza Minnelli’s biography at the same time. And then, God, it’d be awesome–just swell–if he got down on one knee and said, “I’ve been waiting for someone with stunning hair like yours. And don’t worry about ever working again–my daddy’s rich.”

Well, this may come as a shock, but God doesn’t take orders from me very well, even though I remind him that they are just “suggestions.” Which means I lost twenty bucks at the casino tonight and I still don’t have a ring on my finger. But just to be clear, recently a large junk of my sinus surgery bill was forgiven, and a few days ago I got a sweet deal on Tom Collins. (Plus, I do have great hair, and that’s worth a lot.) So God provides, just never in the way I fantasize he will. I can only imagine he long ago got tired of saying, “Would you give it a rest, Nancy? Relax, I know what I’m doing,” so now he just waits for people to figure it out on their own.

As is the case with many superheroes, Spider-man is actually a real person named Peter Parker who wears boxer shorts and spends as much time fighting zits as he does evil villains. In tonight’s movie, Peter is a high school student, a sophomore, and even though he disappears–every time–right before Spider-man shows up, none of his friends and classmates are any the wiser. I mean, who would think some virgin quiz-bowl champion would be a superhero? Who would look for Spider-man in geometry class? But this is the mistake I often make with the divine–I get so focused on how I think it “should” look and act that I don’t see how it actually looks and acts. I get so focused looking for God “over there” that I don’t see him right here, right now.

There’s a quote by Ovid that Julia uses in her book that says, “Chance is always powerful. Let your hook be always cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish.” What I love about this quote is that it reminds me that God always shows up, the universe always provides, but rarely according to our pre-determined fantasies. Obviously, it’s not our job to tell God what to do and how to do it. Rather, our job is to be diligent and to plant seeds, trusting that at some point and in his own way–thank you very much–God will cause them to grow.