Today, in case you missed the media blitz, is Pancake Tuesday. We had every intention of attending the local church supper, but at the last minute I balked. It's not that they're not a friendly bunch (on the contrary, they're almost too friendly). I think that's the problem: we just came out of a very intense two year relationship with the church in Wolfvegas, and now our new suitor seems to be rushing things. It's not that I don't want to be part of a church community...it's that I'm not over my old community.
Yeah, I know. It feels nuts to write, too.
I've always liked the phrase "farewell to the flesh" in connection to Lenten activities. Of course, this year I've said goodbye to the flesh already (although unfortunately I have yet to say farewell to any of my own flesh). I suppose that the thing to do this year is to give up the last rags and stitches of indulgence I cling to like the craven lowlife I am. That means no glass of beer at the bar, no salty snacks in the evening and no weekend cigarettes. Gak. Can you still live without those things??
Funniest conversation of a not-very-funny weekend:
Aunt notices a pipe in the Boy's father's livingroom.
Aunt: Is that yours?
Boy's Father: It was a Christmas gift. But the pipe is not my karma, although I recently started smoking.
My parents: Did you smoke before?
Boy's Father: Nope. I decided to start when I turned 54. (Stunned silence greets this announcement, which he ignores.) The problem with a pipe is that you don't get the same sensation as a cigarette.
Me: It's true. I've smoked a pipe a couple of times in university.
My dad: You mean a hash pipe.
Me: No! I mean a tobacco pipe. (pause) It was a Poet thing.
