In which I compare movies and wine, and I manage to mention God

SO, you know how I wait a decade or so after a movie comes out to actually see it? I have this robust imagination, see, and so I really do not need many movies. Not fresh, anyway.
And if I die, the good wines are in my closet, under the lingerie thingy. Because they should age, too.
I finally worked up to seeing The Count of Monte Cristo. Loved it. Thanks for the recommendation, Kara. Now I am ready to get kissed, which is the unfortunate effect that romantic movies have on my discontented self. I was all happy with my single life, and then BAM! Mercedes finds her true love. I'm ruined.

What is it about the romance that is so darned distracting? It's the beauty, I think. The thrill and the adventure.
I'm going to bring up God now, and if that annoys you, then you are really reading the wrong blog. Seriously.
God fires in me the grand appetite for the sublime. It's because He is the pinnacle of all that can take my breath away, and He leaves this trail that leads only to Him. He is beauty and adventure. He is passion and danger. He is Warrior and Poet. He is Mystery and Imagination. His desire is for Me.
No wonder all men pale in comparison.
But, O! If there were such a man!
...Then I guess I could have both.
And I would be insufferably happy.
And you would have to hate me.