Ash Wednesday … or, I’m so Catholic I Reek



For the umpteenth year in a row, I’ve missed Ash Wednesday and its compulsory ashes heaped upon one’s forehead.  I did, however, manage to consume only one eensy-teensy piece of chicken before remembering it’s a no-meat day for all us wild and crazy Catholics.

Truth be told, I’m a Catholic Loser!

You can call me a Cafeteria Catholic — I pick and choose what I want from the menu-o-catholicism.  Believe this … Don’t believe that … A little bit of this, a little bit of that, a big helping of You-Want-Me-To-Believe-What? Salad.

But as I’ve done each year that I’ve neglected, forgotten, or was too busy to attend Mass on Ash Wednesday, I’ve done something to make up for it.

Take, for instance, the year I decided to give up chocolate.  I think that was the year I contemplated the murder of my first husband.  Thank God that poor chocolate bunny showed up when it did.   

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