'Tis The Season To Be Snobby

I'm standing in Hospital Bridesmaid's kitchen, dandling her 6-month old daughter (who is so tickled to have all her aunties in one place that she's kicking me unmercifully and babbling non-stop), and watching her make Italian Lace cookies. Flighty Bridesmaid is making homemade Heath Bar Crunch. Indispensable Bridesmaid is waiting her turn at the stove to roll out raspberry thumbprint cookies.

Me: "I'm just saying, the book was 'adult enjoyable', you know? Kids could get into it and adults had some meat to chew on, too. It's a book that travels well. You can read it at any stage of your life and get something substantial out of it. The movie was just a kids' movie."

Indispensable: "I haven't seen it yet but I know several people at the office," of the church where she works, "who have seen it two and three times already. They love it."

Flighty: "I think it's just hard to make a movie that grown-ups and kids can both enjoy."

Me: "Not really. I mean, Disney and Dreamworks do it all the time with their animated movies. 'Shrek', 'Hercules', 'Toy Story', you know..."

(Hospital comes to get the baby, who is now hungry, and takes her in the living room to nurse.)

Me: "I just don't like movies where the author's talent and intention gets gutted. It bothers me. It's as if some authority on high thinks we're too stupid to 'get it', you know. Don't dumb things down -- that pisses me off!"

And I don't like being told what I'm supposed to like. As if there's some council with a big red stamp of approval and if you don't like what they're selling then there is something wrong with you spiritually. I mean, just the indignity of the implication!"

(I'm nearing full-blown rant now.)

Like all these self-help, fuzzy-wuzzy humanist books that are disguised as Christian how-to. Whole churches base sermons on this garbage when they should be looking at Scripture for their source. There's this book by Os Guiness that I really want, 'Why Evangelicals Don't Think and What To Do About It'."

Indispensable perks up: "Wow, that sounds good." (She nods in agreement as I'm talking, as if she's gearing up for her two-cents addition.)

Me: "I mean, I don't want to slam on books like 'The Purpose Driven Life'..."

Flighty: "But you're going to."

(Indispensable laughs knowingly.)

Me: (chuckling, almost apologetically) "But I'm going to. There's just no meat there. It's another case of feel-good, fuzzy-wuzzy..." (I shake my head as I grasp for a direct object.) "It just drives me crazy --"

Hospital (always the feisty Italian diplomat) butts in: "Well, it really helped my mother-in-law. She didn't realize that she was just like her mother until she read that book. I really think it broke a barrier with her. She's so crazy and overmedicated she can't see what's right in front of her."

Me: "Well, that's who that book is for -- people who have no clue. But don't try to push it on the rest of us like it's great literature or some help to the Scriptures. It's not. It's drivel!"

Flighty: "You never like anything anyway, WG."

I pause and think. And suddenly have a moment of bare-bones, honest clarity.

Me: "That's. Because. I'm... A SNOBBBBB!!"

(cackling laughter from the living room all the way into the kitchen)

Hospital calls from the living room: "Well, at least you admit it!"

Me: "I am! I admit it! I'm a literature snob, a movie snob, a music snob, a food snob -- "

Indispensable: "I'm a food snob because of you. Eating at your house is like a whole new world. You can't go back after that."

(Talk continues. We move onto other things. But the elephant in the room has finally been addressed. The cat is out of the bag.)

I arrive home and relay this conversation to the other great snob in town, the Big One, the Head Honcho, Dear Husband, Tef.

"You're not a snob," says he, "you just have taste."

Well, (chortle) obviously.