Something about the Pope dying makes me feel more Catholic. I may have to go to mass sometime. But I am not going to confession first. Too scary.

When you go in you have to sit down and say, "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been ------- since my last confession."

And I would have to say, um like, 18 YEARS where the dashes are. EEp! At the end of all your carrying on about your sins the priest gives you your penance, which is saying a number of Hail Mary's or Our Fathers to absolve yourself of your sins. Usually it is like 10 and 10. But 18 YEARS. I might as well line up daycare for a couple months so I can get me rosary out and start even before I get there.

I love all the italian people on TV with their designer sunglasses holding rosaries up at the Pope's funeral. 2 million people! I was talking to my mom tonight, my mom who is the shiz, and she was saying how remarkable it all was, and which other religious leader can you think of who would have such a funeral? I mean, Charles and Camilla have POSTPONED their wedding. My gram cummings would have been real pleased about all this hoopla.

And of course, feeling more Catholic makes me feel a little guilty about all those times in grade eight that Sandy Stachura and I SAID we were going to church but we actually were spending a glorious hour behind Boots Drugstore smoking one Vantage Menthol cigarette after another. What a scene, two 13 year old girls dressed for church, Sandy's skinny legs in spice pantyhose and me in my good coat, smoking our ciggys and talking about Sean McCrory, who Sandy adored but he was going out with Karen Van Dyke at the time and she was beautiful and had the nicest feathered hair you ever saw. It was like two frosted wings coming out of the sides of her face.

Man, what times. I don't think either of us even inhaled those stupid cigarettes. We just puffed and puffed and lit them and stamped them out. It was a LOT of work. Then we would each pop a piece of gum in our mouths and walk home. And my mom would sometimes say, "What did the priest talk about?" But we always had it covered. "Oh, he did Pauls 2nd letter to the Corinthians, mom." Or, "Um, it was like a thing about Jesus and the money lenders in the temple?" We were sly little church truants, we were.

And now we go to church together for real! Ha! We do! We bring our kids and sit beside each other. We are even in the Sunday school rotation for the 2 and 3 year olds together. Who woulda known that those two brats in the alley with their kissing potion lipgloss on behind Boots drugstore would grow up to teach Sunday School. I swear, sometimes we look at each other and just laugh.

I have visions of Sandy and I at 85, living together at last like Laverne and Shirley, borrowing each others rain caps so our white perms don't get ruined. She will shrink down to my height but I will stay the same height. So we can wear each other's stuff finally without me looking like a short arse like I do now. And we will have girls nights out and we won't have to THINK about babysitters or whose husband is being cranky. I mean, our youngest kids will be 53, can you leave them alone at that point or what. It'll be fun. Anyone want to reserve a spot and share the rent with us? We could get a big condo full of old bizzatches who still have style. What a blast.

Alright well, time to go and read my "Roots" which, let me tell you, is one FANTASTIC book. Great read. Rock on, Kunta Kinte. (Every time I read the name, I have to say it out loud the way Will Smith did on the Fresh Prince. Try it, it's fun.)

Night, night,

There is nothing we won't try,
Never heard of the word IMpossible
This time,
There's no stopping us,
We're gonna do it our way, yes our way
Make all our dreams co-ome true,
For me and You!


Yep. Those are Tampax we are holding up like smokes. Oh the grade eight mind is a looly thing. We thought we were hilarious.


A.