Today is Pirate Day. Thanks to http://www.talklikeapirate.com/ I was able to expand my pirate vocabulary with chumbuckets which I am applying as my newest form of verbal criticism.
I am listening to The Doors. Here is a bit of trivia for those music aficionados out there. Jim Morrison’s hero was Frank Sinatra.
I ran into a nun this afternoon at my local grocery venue. I use the word ran in the literal form. Why is it that nuns always appear to be critically fragile? I thought the tiny, white haired lady was going to break when I bumped into her strikingly cold body. Odds are good that this is the only skin on skin action she has endured prior to making her devotion to god. On three separate occasions she and I met eye-to eye. I will admit the run-ins were primarily my fault. I shuffle around stores like a mad woman on a serious mission. Today I am in a hurry for no particular reason. I would like to think that Sister Helen was god’s way of shining a bit of heavenly light into my life. The holy kind, anyway. It’s rumored that sex, alcohol consumption, gluttony, and something known as “the devils music” are gratifying, but because I am a child of extreme faith I refrain from such poisonous activities.
I need to repent.
I’m a good Catholic girl. I was born and raised Catholic. I have had a love/hate relationship with the religion during my adult life. I have committed what would probably be considered sins of the carnal form within the Catholic faith. For whatever reason during the 5 times I have gone to confession as an adult I have failed to seek forgiveness for things the Catholic Church likes to frown upon such as using GD as an everyday adjective, skipping Mass on Sunday due to an extreme hangover, the pre-marital sex, the “morning after” pills, the feelings of hate I have for my office IT Guy, Big Cherry.
What of it?
I have had a priest criticize me post confession. True story. I haven't been back since.
I hope to write more tomorrow...
~ McSasssssss
I am listening to The Doors. Here is a bit of trivia for those music aficionados out there. Jim Morrison’s hero was Frank Sinatra.
I ran into a nun this afternoon at my local grocery venue. I use the word ran in the literal form. Why is it that nuns always appear to be critically fragile? I thought the tiny, white haired lady was going to break when I bumped into her strikingly cold body. Odds are good that this is the only skin on skin action she has endured prior to making her devotion to god. On three separate occasions she and I met eye-to eye. I will admit the run-ins were primarily my fault. I shuffle around stores like a mad woman on a serious mission. Today I am in a hurry for no particular reason. I would like to think that Sister Helen was god’s way of shining a bit of heavenly light into my life. The holy kind, anyway. It’s rumored that sex, alcohol consumption, gluttony, and something known as “the devils music” are gratifying, but because I am a child of extreme faith I refrain from such poisonous activities.
I need to repent.
I’m a good Catholic girl. I was born and raised Catholic. I have had a love/hate relationship with the religion during my adult life. I have committed what would probably be considered sins of the carnal form within the Catholic faith. For whatever reason during the 5 times I have gone to confession as an adult I have failed to seek forgiveness for things the Catholic Church likes to frown upon such as using GD as an everyday adjective, skipping Mass on Sunday due to an extreme hangover, the pre-marital sex, the “morning after” pills, the feelings of hate I have for my office IT Guy, Big Cherry.
What of it?
I have had a priest criticize me post confession. True story. I haven't been back since.
I hope to write more tomorrow...
~ McSasssssss
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