Spent all morning figuring I was going to meet my death on the 17th floor of a downtown building, since it's hard to get down 17 floors before a tornado comes, & now it's nice enough to sit outside on the porch swing. Interesting weather for Ash Wednesday, isn't it? We're off to church later this evening. My best Ash Wednesday story is from the year I studied abroad. Pete was in Paris visiting, and in our pitiful attempt to fast, we *only* had McDonald's fries before going to Mass at Notre Dame that evening. Having thrown caution to the wind, we then decided to cross the bridge and eat at La Castafiore on the Ile St-Louis. I also remember that for some reason the priest who applied Petey's ashes put them ON TOP OF HIS BANGS, so he had no ashes, while the priest who applied mine clearly thought he was a better priest for covering my entire forehead with a sooty mess that in no way resembled a cross. Fortunately, it was Northern Europe in winter, so it was dark.
In all seriousness, it was depressing to wake up this morning & realize that some people will remember yesterday & today not for the excitement of a *real* election, but for sadness & loss. Let's remember them, especially today.
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