#$%&!

I gave up cursing for Lent. I don’t do it often, but when I let loose I am worse than a drunken sailor. (I don’t actually know any sailors but I have met a few drunks in my day) It was that or gum which I didn’t feel was very sacrificial….or playing Lotto like my co-worker did, or Facebook like my neice. (ok, so that ain’t happenin’) Thought about abstaining from chocolate but I already gave that up when my son got engaged and set the wedding date a mere year away. (at a pound a week I could be 52 pounds lighter….ok so maybe I can convince him to wait 6 more months…maybe 9.…a year tops!) I considered giving up texting which I think would actually be therapeutic but again, not something God is sitting up there saying…’Wow save her a spot, she put away her QWERTY keyboard for a whole 40 days’…..

I started off good. I didn’t curse or even think of cursing as the ashes were put on my forehead. I didn’t curse or even think of cursing as my dog decided it would be a good time to chew the insoles out of my sneakers while I was getting ashed. I didn’t curse or even think of cursing the next night when I walked 2 blocks in the pouring rain to see La Cage on Broadway (because my husband finds it necessary to street park, facing downtown or west…I don’t ask, I just drive and park) I didn’t curse or even think of cursing (ok that’s a lie right there, I didn’t but sure as hell wanted to) when the usher took us to our seats only to find out they added little bistro tables in front of us making our front row orchestra seats….2nd row I-cant-see-a-damn-thing-over-the-peoples-head seats.  I said nothing as one by one men came out dressed like woman and had better legs than me.  I smiled and clapped curse free as the woman in front of me tilted her head back and forth like some bobble-headed car ornament and as I did the same to see the stage,  I am sure the guys behind me were cursing at me. And speaking of the guys behind me, as they held hands and nuzzled, they laughed hysterically and way too loudly as the men/women came out with their tucked up ‘jewels’ and yet not one curse came to my lips.

Today however brought a new series of circumstances I will ill-prepared for.  I was driving on a service road and needed to merge into traffic.  No one was letting me in. I guess all the rain had soggied their brain and now with the sun shining they were determined not to let another living sole in front of them, even if there was a red light up ahead.  I put my blinker on. I nudged my bumper into the lane, and as cars honked frantically to let me know they were NOT going to let me in THEIR lane I felt an ever so slight curse bubbling up to my lips. I swallowed hard and continued to merge.  I made it in front of a man who had decided that if he honked at me long enough I would simply pull out of his lane and let him get back in front of me.  What the *&$!?   When I got to the corner he zipped around me and open window to open window he let me have it.   Both barrels. Names I haven’t been called in…well, ever! And here it was, the beginning of the end. My Lenten promise not only broken but destroyed. I started calling him names that would have had the gay guys from last night blushing.  That the dancing men/women on stage would have giggled at.   But Mr. My Lane wasn’t laughing. I added adjectives to every curse and verbs to every adjective.  I told him what to do with what body parts and with who. (or is it whom?) And then just when I thought I couldn’t have sunk any lower, I wished him dead. During lent……I am going to hell.

I recovered from that debacle vowing to regroup and remain curse free for the remainder of the Lenten season.  38 more days, not counting Sundays.  I could do it!  I went to Key Food. The lot was empty.  I parked, went inside for less than 15 minutes and came out to find a car parked three inches from my driver’s door.  The lot was still empty.  30 spots and this one needed to park on top of me. (was this I test I thought to myself?)  I kept my cool, looked at the make and model of the car and went to ask the manager to request the owner move the car. I went back out to wait for the owner.  I had to pee.  A woman came out talking on her cell phone, her keys and groceries in hand and walked over to her car.  Before she got in I said, ‘you really didn’t need to park so close to me, look at all these spots….I couldn’t get in my car’........What I wanted to say was “you are so damn lucky that I didn’t just slam my door up against yours and squeeze my fat ass in-between leaving a nice fresh dent on your pretty little Nissan.”  I refrained…God is watching I thought….it’s a test…it’s a test! Without blinking an eye she turned to me and accused me of taking up two spots, which I clearly was not…especially since there were 28 other spots for her to pick from.  “Are you kidding me?”  I said. (I know, I know… lousy come back, but when your hands are tied by this whole Lenten thing you are limited!) She got in her car and backed out, still talking on her cell phone, almost hitting my car and me….and then smiled!  That was it…I failed the test. Hell, even God would have to understand this one.  I let loose with a string of curses I didn’t even know I knew. I started off slow, calling her a jerk, an ass, a whore. Standing alone in the parking lot, I moved onto more descriptive words and just as I was whipped into a frenzy that even I was amazed at…..it started to rain. God’s way of marking my test paper…F!

I am giving up gum for Lent. God will understand.

I am going to hell......!

This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday. The first day of Lent. It is also the day you are supposed to chose something to give up for the 40 days leading up to Easter Sunday. It is three days later and I still have not decided. I wanted to chose something that would be a challenge, a sacrifice….but the best I could come up with was….gum. But yesterday I chewed gum so now I need to rethink this. I am a good Catholic…I am not, however a good practicing Catholic. I am one of those hypocrites that goes to church on what I call the ‘give away’ holidays. I go on Ash Wednesday for ashes, Palm Sunday for palm or any holiday where they bless something. Like the dog or your throat. (Yes there is a St Blaize day and they bless your throat….for what I don’t know but I can use all the blessings I can get) That’s it. Too busy cooking, hiding eggs or wrapping gifts on Easter and Christmas to go….see told you I was a hypocrite, but hey honesty is a virtue, no? I was going pretty regularly on Sundays last year so that my grandson who was making his First Holy Communion would know what he was missing when the entire congregation got up for communion and he had to wait til May. I took him so that he would get used to having to be quiet for an entire hour…however his younger brother and my other grandson found it an opportunity to discuss anything and everything other than the gospel. (I shhh’d more than a downhill skier.) They did however enjoy looking up the songs in the song book.

Back to Wednesday…..my parish gave out ashes at 2pm and 4pm. I am at work. Then again at 7:30pm which the rectory recording said was a service. They did not say ‘mass‘….so I assumed ‘service’ meant that it would take slightly longer to get the ashes ex’d upon my forehead. Wrong….or they lied. (which somehow I doubt was the rectory’s intention, especially during the Lenten season) Did they not know that the top 24 contestants were being announced on American Idol? Not everyone has a DVR. Ok, I do, but that’s not the point. I went in and sat down unfortunately in a pew with a man and his son who really liked to sing along with the organist/choir master. I mean REALLY liked to sing. And they were actually quite good, but like I was a kid all over again…it made me giggle. Every time the son (who was in his 30’s and I believe a little slow) belted out a Halleluiah or an exaggerated Amen I cracked up. Inside. To myself. But I was sure as I looked around that there were several other suppressed giggles. (I know, I am going to hell!) The priest delivering the service is from Pakistan or India or maybe Bangladesh. If I was a better practicing Catholic I am sure I would know. He has an accent. A thick ‘would you like a cherry Slurpee’ accent. (Yup, on the way to hell as we speak!) I didn’t understand the Gospel, or the Liturgy…or pretty much of anything he said. And if it wasn’t for what was driven into my head as a child, I wouldn’t have been able to follow the mass at all. We stood, we sat, we knelt, we stood, we sat, we knelt….most exercise I have had in weeks. I didn’t do so well will the kneeling since my knees don’t kneel like they used to. I kept my fat ass on the edge of the seat keeping the weight off my poor depleted knees.

It was finally time for the ashes. We all lined up in front of the two priests as the singing duo broke into Song 671 from the song book and once again I giggled. I remember as a kid I always wanted a big black smush on my forehead, not one of those pale smudges some priests delivered, and I found myself jockeying for the line by the priest with big thumbs. As we slowly made our way toward the priests, and the singers were on their third chorus of Song 671, I wondered if on the way back, I could bypass my seat and head straight out the door. I could still make Idol if I did, but I left my pocketbook on the seat and had to return. I looked around to see if anyone would actually even notice if I suddenly stood and left. Of course that was when I noticed three of my neighbors. I thought about feigning illness…ok lying in church on Ash Wednesday…so NO that was out! I had my ashes, I shook hands in peace with my neighboring congregants, (even Pavarotti and his son) and I was ready to go….but I didn’t. Instead I admired the huge crucifix on the altar, and the beautiful stained glass on the walls, and wondered about the dead leafless tree on the altar. Was there significance to this or had the caretaker simply forgotten to water it? The mass was over and we all made a mad dash for the doors, stopping only to dip my fingers into the holy water trough, bless myself and genuflect at the altar. I felt renewed, I felt blessed, I felt holy….I felt like I might still make it in time for Idol. (I am going hell!)