About Me

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My husband tells me I am a makebate. So, what's wrong with that? I love to write. I have 2 great kids and 1 grandson. I'd love to say I am "retired" but really, who retires from life? Shoot me a question, comment, rant or rave. They are all welcome here. Love dogs, my family, and most of all, debate. Pro NRA, conservative and a right wing lady.

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Getting Older

People, I have been away from my own large screen computer for some time now....getting ready for back surgery, and dog sitting at other people's homes.  Please forgive my last post, which potentially was great in that it pointed out what BOTH SIDES will go to in order to make a political commercial.  Yes, I am very right wing, very conservative, and even more importantly, Catholic.

Actually, I was lucky enough to be raised Catholic... you know the routine.  White little dresses, glove, veils, white shoes, getting the First Holy Communion.  I remember mine clearly in that my Irish Bostonian mother threw a huge party afterwards, and I was sitting with my great aunt, demonstrating how the lady on some tele commercial would ""twing" her crystal goblets together to indicate that they were true crystal.  In my  life, such an innocent action turned into a close call of "Mother Murders Daughter in First Holy Communion Gown".  Not only did I shatter two very expensive long stemmed Waterford goblets, but I managed to soak my little white dress with red wine.  Looking back on it, I remember my mother lunging towards me, but my dear old aunt was there to rescue her favorite niece from sure death.

Perhaps the red stain on the white dress has set the tone for my life as it has managed to go thus far.  It sounds almost exorcism in the making. Shit, I could have been in movies.

My second sacrament was confession.  Weekdays of CCD, and nuns and priests, God Love Them, trying to convince me that I was in the right class, and that "no" since Jesus was a Jew, I could not convert.  Damn.  Well, as classes of confession training, on how you enter the little room, and a little light goes on to let busy bodies behind you in line that you are in there, spilling all your worldly secrets to a priest who is thinking....what can a 8 year old possible say?  Well, they had not met old Annie Mac yet.  I entered that little room, with a bench kneeler and a screen.  I immediately needed to stick my finger in the screen, just to see what it was made of.  That did not fare well with the priest who was probably nipping the sherry...well he would be if he were smart.  I got in there, put a little hole in the screen, and then proceeded to tell the priest that I hated my brothers and sister, wanted to be an only child, thought God was not real.  I asked him what he ate for dinner.  Did he like it?  I asked him what the worst sin was he had ever heard confessed.  By the end of 20 minutes in the confessional, I suspect  they were wanting to be rid of me.  I was instructed through the little screen to recite my learned prayers, and that for penance, I was to tell me siblings that I did not hate them.  Truth be told, if I was in a secret confessional, telling a priest something, then why the need to even mention it to my siblings.

I never did get to confirmation as I rebelled against organized religion at that age, was a hellion, and created some sort of havoc where ever our family went.  I think they have special places for kids like me know.  It's called military school, which I might have actually done quite well at - why?  Structure, but punishment for a reason, not a threat. Of course now, at 48, i recognize the importance of the confirmation, and have been confirmed.  I'm in the club now.

Well, look at this...way overboard on what I actually wanted to say.  The font on my previous post about commercials in in some idiotic ultra small style which I can barely read, bifocals on and off.  Does that mean its time for trifocals? 

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