oh, how her affections have turned.

Thursday night, while walking home from Hillsong Conference, Jeanne and I are slowly lagging behind Christian and Giovanni. Our Egyptian and Italian our fully engrossed in a conversation several meters in front of us. They are probably talking about finance or uni assignments.

Jeanne pulls out her "bag tag," a makeshift label that includes her name and phone number. At Conference, all the volunteers could leave their jackets and purses or bags in a room. Our personal belongings were labeled with our names and phone numbers.

"How funny would that be if you just handed these out to some random person walking down the street? It's like a pre-made way to just give someone your phone number," I laugh.

"No way, man. I gotta hand this out to somebody who is WORTHY," Jeanne smiles. "Like Joel Houston."

"You should just hand that out to the next hot guy you see."

"I think I will."

"We should play this game for the remaining time we have in Australia. Keep this ready in case you see Joel."

"Or Hugh Jackson."

I stop dead in my tracks. "Hugh WHO?"

"Jackman. Hugh Jackman," Jeanne tries to recover, but the damage is done. It's finally happened.

"Hugh JACKSON? You have name of another man on your lips! Joel's made you forget Hugh Jackman!" I am stunned.

This is only the beginning of the waning of Jeanne's affections for Hugh Jackman.

At Hillsong Church, for all of its amazing atmosphere of faith and worship and community, there is a slight celebrity culture that's been inadvertently fostered, due to the popularity of worship leaders like Joel Houston and Brooke Fraser. I would like to preface this by saying there are far more attractive looking guys here in Sydney, Australia than in Orlando in general. And many of them happen to be in church.

And yes, some of them are leading worship.

While we were walking home from the grocery store today, I told Jeanne that I liked Smiley Guy that Leads Worship better than Joel. Or at least I thought he was cuter. I think his name is Jad. I'm not sure. But anyway, I thought he was cute from that video blog they put up during the Hillsong United tour.

Don't get me wrong. Joel's a good-looking dude. And occasionally even looks hot. He also just occasionally looks like a caveman. Or a lumberjack.

"Didn't you say you would never date someone who wears flannel?" I ask Jeanne, referring to Joel's occasional lumberjack look. "I distinctly remember you saying once you would never date a guy that wears flannel."

"I would if it were Joel Houston."

"I can't believe it. You would make an exception to the flannel rule. For Joel."

"He's worth it." Jeanne's got that mischievous half-smile/half-smirk she gets when she gets some kind of delicious idea in her head. Unbelievable.

"I think Joel seems like a cool guy. And I love the lyrics he writes and his heart and personality that comes through onstage. But I wouldn't date him, necessarily," I say.

Jeanne looks at me like I'm crazy. And, then: "Girl, you are crazy."

I revise, slightly backtracking, "Well I'm not saying I would turn Joel DOWN. I just like Smiley Guy better."

"You'd BETTER not turn Joel down. I would kick your ass if you turned him down. I mean, I'd probably kick your ass if you didn't turn him down. But I'm MORE likely to kick your ass if you DID turn him town. It ain't gonna get better than Joel Houston. That's perfection!" Jeanne declares.

Later that night, we are in our kitchen, making chicken parmesan. Once again, we have severely over-estimated the amount of meat necessary to feed a small number of people. We have "chicken for days," as Jeanne likes to say. Or enough to feed a small army. (Not Costa Rica's army though, since they apparently do not have an army, according to Walter).

"Jeanne. Look at all this chicken. We have enough to feed ourselves, our future husbands. And our future kids." I stand, gaping at the array of chicken parmesan before us.

"Hmm, let me see. There's Joel's chicken. And my chicken. And our children's chicken."

"What about Hugh Jackman's chicken?" I have to keep reminding Jeanne of her former passion. It's an uphill climb. "So in one parallel universe, you are married to Hugh Jackman. And that's his chicken. In the other parallel universe, you are married to Joel Houston. And that's his parmesan chicken."

"And in another parallel universe, polygamy is allowed. And I have Hugh Jackman AND Joel Houston."

I used to think we needed Walter to carry on with these kinds of conversations.

Tonight, I am not so sure.