First of all, this is a three-day weekend. Thanks to God's Chosen People, my kids don't have school tomorrow. Frankly, I've never understood anti-semitism, and it seems especially stupid in a year when Yom Kippur is on a Monday. Ok, I realize this isn't what the Jews had in mind when they started observing Yom Kippur, but hey, I'll take it. What with Columbus Day next Monday, that makes two three-day weekends in a row. What's not to like? I say God bless God's Chosen People.
You know, over the past 15 years, representatives from at least five other religions have kissed up to me big-time, trying to get me to join up. So I really have to hand it to the Jews. They don't want me to sign up; they don't care whether I keep Kosher, I'm fine exactly the way I am. I don't need to change a thing. And on top of that, they get me Monday off.
The Seventh Day Adventists and the Mormons and the other
OK, so what else can I gloat about? Well, today I was at church pretty much all day, because in addition to our regular Sunday service, to honor St. Francis we had an Evensong and Pet Blessing. How fun is a church full of dogs and their owners? Very fun, that's how fun.
And! When the choir was assembling outside the church, a woman rushed up to me and burbled something about being in town from California, and she wasn't a member of this church, but she'd heard about this kind of service, and would I please bless her dog?
Me. Bless her dog. Riiiiiiiiiiight.
Well, I was wearing a choir robe. So maybe I looked holy or something. But I told her that what she needed was a clergyman. So I took her over to the vicar, and he blessed her dog.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "This responsible and mature person is obviously an imposter. This is not our Poppy! Our Poppy would have made up some kind of extemporaneous prayery-sounding thing, concluding with the phrase "In Dog We Trust."
I know you're thinking that. I can tell. Because I'm
Hah! fooled you. Once in a while, when I'm in the mood, I act like a grown up.
OK, so then, when I recessing out of the cathedral with the choir, whom did I see but my husband and children. This was very heart-warming because my children are far too
But I didn't think they were going to make it. In fact, I stopped the vicar during the blessing of the pets thing and got a St. Francis medal for my son's turtle, because YOU JUST NEVER KNOW when the Jews are going to decide that I suck, take away my long weekend, and get God to smite my son's turtle. So the vicar prayed for my son's turtle, and I got a St. Francis medal that I'll hang from the turtle's enclosure.
Call it a turtle insurance policy.
So anyway, I'm sorry I haven't had much to whine about. But come on. Who could whine? I've got God's Chosen People and St. Francis looking out for me. Or maybe the Jews like me, and St. Francis just likes the my son's turtle. Whatever. It's all good.
See, I told you I was having a good weekend.
p.s. In other good news, on Friday night some friends took me and That Stud Muffin I Married to dinner at Charlie Trotter's, a mega-fancy restaurant which also happens to be very expensive. It's also extremely hard to get a table. But due to the adherents to what is fast becoming my favorite religion (see above) they had room for us on Friday night. So we had a lovely, lovely dinner with friends. We also got a tour of the restaurant's kitchen and wine cellars. (No more on that, because I'm working on a review for RW over at Chasing Vincenzo.)