Brace yourself, Bridget
Today is Shrove Tuesday.
I have Catholicism in the same way that I have an appendix. Its vestigial, risks flaring up occasionally, but mostly gives me no trouble. Still, I like to observe some of the old rituals that give shape and rhythm to a year. Tomorrow, Ash Wednesday, I’ll make eyes at firemen with crosses on their foreheads and Ill give up both the demon dhrink and chocolate for Lent.
I never accept that I drink very much, but then I grouse through six weeks of deprivation. Forsaking chocolate is even worse. By Friday, my loved ones will roll their eyes and yawn at my pitiful mewling. Others will avoid me altogether, sickened by the sight of a grown woman sniffing at the office candy jar.
But that’s tomorrow. Tonight, though I won’t get shriven, I will drink beer and eat pancakes with chocolate sauce.
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