I Went to Mass . . .

And I liked it.

(Of course I cried my eyes out.)

I went to Mass.

And I liked it. . . .

"Can I take communion?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Because I've done . . . excommunicable acts . . . "
"Bullshit."
"Really?"
"Bullshit. And that's a priest telling you that. If you want to take communion, take communion."

I took communion. I said the responses. I let God in. He washed over me and I sat there, a little broken human being having a spiritual experience.

[I think it was one of the Popes Pius (no liberal, but at least never a Hitler Youth) who said that communion was medicine for the soul; the healthy don't need it; the sick do. ]

I'm B-a-a-a-a-a-c-k!

Hello, all you beautiful people. I've been busy.

I took a full-time job; wasn't that miraculous, in this economy? I started as Assistant Editor at Central Recovery Press in early December,'08. In addition to helping get this fledgling publishing house off the ground, editing away like a madwoman, I've been working on a huge collection of children's poems for Scholastic.

Oh, yes, as a work assignment, I wrote a 23,000 word children's novel for Central Recovery Press, which will be out next year.

As you might imagine, I've been kind of sick of words, like Liza Doolittle, by the time I get home at night, so I haven't blogged. But I will soon. Oh yes. And you will all be mine again.

Mwah, ha, ha!

Good night, possums!