Ash Wednesday

I expressed my bad Catholic ways twice today. First I didn't get my ashes. Second I lied in church.  So yes - I was actually in church this Ash Wednesday. I was in the chapel showing D where my cousin and I used to 'play'.  Play meaning we lit candles without paying but I blame my Grandma for that one (and she would deny it) but anyway an old woman with her already ashed head turned to me and sweetly said "You have to get your ashes".  It was a very direct statement and I froze for a moment and then said "Oh yes.  I'm going upstairs in a minute to get them".  She smiled and I smiled and then I pushed D out of the chapel.   I did go into the main church but only to admire the stained glass.  On the way home D said how bad I was that I didn't get ashes considering I was baptized.  And in that particular church.  "I was confirmed too!" I piped in to which D replied, "Confirmed sinner".  Amen D.  Amen.

So on behalf of this day, the start of Lent (which - no - I will not be giving anything up because I am selfish and not by the book religious), I give you this sweet story of the last time I got "Ashed":

A few years ago I was in Ireland with K & K.  We spent our last night in Dublin after being in Donegal visiting family.  We had to be at the airport really early the next morning.  Of course we went out and had our final pints and back at the hotel when the clock struck 3am I announced I was going to try to get some sleep.  Our room had three single beds and because I knew K & K in their giddy state would be up for a while, I took the bed in the corner.  Now I'm a pretty heavy sleeper but some time later I woke up groggy and heard giggling.  I kept feeling a strange sensation around my face but wasn't really caring because sleep is pretty important to me.   I remember groaning and telling them to stop whatever they were doing to me and fell back asleep.  When the alarm blared a few hours later I asked them what exactly they were doing last night.  And do you know what they said?  "Playing Ash Wednesday".   There were actually putting cigarette ash (not holy) on my forehead (obsessively dirt free). I could have killed them and left them there for the maid to find considering it wasn't my credit card that was put down on the room and therefore you really couldn't trace me once I left the country but I was too tired and didn't want to miss the plane. I mean to get ashed with cigarettes is like being baptized in a fountain of gin.   The nerve!

Apparently I haven't forgotten about it and am harboring some sort of ill feelings towards them.  But it's all good.  There's a nice 'Blessing' coming their way when they least expect it. Sleep tight b*tches!