Fat Tuesday

I’m really not one to wear my religion on my sleeve (or, in the case of Ash Wednesday, my head).

But today, the night before Lent begins, some people wear colorful masks to a Mardi Gras bash, others booze it up at a parade. Or they earn their beads on Bourbon Street (of course, I’d never do that – the last thing I need is to get sued for putting an eye out). Or they feed their faces with free pancakes. Basically, it’s kind of like Last Call for all the bad stuff you want to do before it’s time to repent.

So, I ordered up a cheeseburger, o-rings, and milkshake for dinner. FAT Tuesday, indeed.

For any good Catholic, there are two basic principles to Lent: 1) sacrifice doing (or eating) something you really enjoy, and 2) don’t eat meat on Fridays. There are many other nuances, but those are the biggies, to me anyway.

While I KNOW I’m not supposed to eat meat on Fridays during Lent, somehow, I always do. I don’t mean to. But it sneaks in! We’ll go down to lunch at work and as luck would have it, it will be bacon smoothie day, or something equally ridiculous, and the day’s all shot to hell.

Who knew a corporate cafeteria could be so fraught with spiritual peril?

Although I’m not convinced that eating bacon is the worst thing I could do, I really hate to tempt fate. So, I’m going to try to be good. REALLY try. For the next 46 days (or 7 Fridays). And when I’m bad, I’ll update the comments below with the offending foodstuff.

Who knew being Catholic could be a spectator sport?

Laissez les bon temps rouler!