K and I attended our daughter's baccalaureate ceremony last night. It's worth noting that it was in a Catholic church, complete with mass. The mass was long and interesting and I got a taste of a different type of religious population: the Catholics.

I think if I had to be Christian, I'd be a Catholic. They are so mystical and have such interesting rituals. Of course, the strange image of a giant life-sized Jesus on a crucifix sculpture gave me the creeps. And it turned me on. But not for him or anything. No nunnery for me, have no fear. (Although the Rapture of St. Teresa gives me hope...)

(I think that some repression was going on when the Jesus sculpture was made. Just sayin'.)

After mass and the ceremony there was a dinner. We sat with one of our daughter's friends and her family. Our daughter and I were talking about the first time we met--at one of her plays. Then she corrected me: "No I think we met way earlier, the year before, at my dad's poetry reading. You were married."

A hush fell over the table.

She tried to back track but there was really no way of fixing it unless I piped in with "Well we were just friends at the time and we weren't romantically involved until after my divorce papers were filed.....and and and." No.

She stumbled and "but...and...I mean-ed" for about five minutes. My husband had gone to get punch. She finally gave up and shrunk a little on herself. It didn't help that my other daughter and I were laughing hysterically.

But the piece de resistance came when she informed us that, as K and I stood in the very back of the chapel with all of the graduates behind us ready to march in, they all noted with delight that Wanker has his hand on my ass.

I hadn't even noticed.

Amen.

I mean chowder.