With Ash Wednesday almost over I’ve made no Lenten promises. Just as well. In no way, large or small, have I been the sort of reflective, repentant, renunciationitive* Christian my parents and community of worship has taught me to be during this finite time each year.
I didn’t go to church for ashing (sloth). My diet consisted of potato chips, ice scream sandwiches, chocolate, and soda pop (gluttony). I ruminated over hawt Mz. Molly freezing her ass in Rockefeller Center (envy). I overly enjoyed the visage of my sparkly daughter in her sparkly hippster hat (pride). I stole kisses from an unwilling 9 YO boy (greed). I pinched the hubster’s behiney while he did dishes (c’mon who wouldn’t lust over all those clean dishes!).
AND THEN – I dropped $3.04 and the F bomb at Sonic. Ignoring the fact that the fam is on a spending freeze and I shouldn’t even be enjoying Happy Hour, I wanted an iced tea. We nearly hit 90 degrees today! When it came, I asked if the car hop brought sugar. “You should have asked for that when you ordered.” What? I just tipped the bitchette a buck. She can’t give me some damn sugar with a smile? “I’d like a packet of sugar,” I insisted. Clearly unhappy, the carhop walks away in a manner I’m sure my parents recall from 1985 or so. Not that I would ever have rolled my eyes at a dorky adult who couldn’t order right. The car hop returns later with pink packets. Pink packets! Is she TRYING to give me Alzheimer’s? “No thanks,” I say. Then as I turn to back up I say “I just wanted some fucking sugar” to the slushy grins of my children. Rooster plucking mother trucker! (WRATH ALL OVER THE PLACE.)
You know, I haven’t eaten red meat today. That’s always a good Lenten promise. Okay. Phew! I feel all better now. I love you Jesus!
* Okay, I made that word up because I love alliteration. It just goes to show (internal rhyme) how much I suck at Lent as I ignore all the rules.
All parents eventually make up ways to get around dropping the F-Bomb. Eventually, you make a deal with your children to pay them $5 every time you use a $5 word. But $5 words are expensive and eventually it will lead to bankruptcy, moral if not financial.
love you! Thanks for a great morning laugh 🙂 And knowing that I’m not alone.
wow, “jesus can suck it.” what a way to enter the season, my friend. as my new bff would say, “yum-o!” well, maybe not so much my bff as my wishful bff. aahhh, jealousy in the lenten season.
btw, gotta steal the HAWT now.
It is an inevitability of life that, in your mind, someone you grew up with will always be the same age. You will always be, I don’t know, 8 or 9 years old to me. Imagine how funny it is to picture my 9 year old sister behind the wheel of her car shouting, “I just wanted some fucking sugar!” at a carhop in some Tucson Sonic. HA!