Yesterday, as I pulled into that treacherous intersection that always makes drape my forearm across the steering wheel so I can steer better, I said to myself, “I’m not going to accidentally honk the horn today. I’m not going to accidentally honk the horn today.” And then I was all, “AUGHHH, WHY ARE YOU HONKING AT ME, JERK?” Then, to cover my confusion, I wadded up an old Burger King bag and vehemently threw it into the backseat. That’ll show ’em.
I’m telling you this story because I want you to know what to expect when you read my blog.
I’ve been blogging for about six years now — most recently for the National Catholic Register. I sometimes write for various other respectable publications, like Catholic Digest and Our Sunday Visitor, and I wrote the chapter on motherhood for Style, Sex, and Substance. I speak at conferences and events. And this fall, I’ll have my first book out: an ebook and audiobook called The Sinner’s Guide to NFP.
I write about books and more books, art (good and bad), pro-life issues (good and bad), how to raise decent kids and have a decent marriage in an indecent world, and how to tell the difference between coming closer to God, and just copy-catting people’s holiness style; and how to see stuff that you need to see and do the stuff you need to do. Among other things, I have recently covered the papal conclave, a secular company that’s bucking Obamacare, and, over the years, more posts than you might think it’s possible to write about modesty.
And then sometimes I just write about HONK HONNNK!
I think today is one of those days, and all of you guys out there — you know, my new readers, who have no idea who I am and no particular reason to keep on reading my stuff — you’re the people in the cars around me. Just living your lives, following the rules of the road, looking straight ahead so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with the twitchy lady driving the van with all the crooked bumper stickers and the windows that are so smeary, you can’t tell if that’s nine kids inside, or just an enormous amount of car garbage. Carbage.
Well, before the light turns green, let me introduce myself. I’m Simcha Fisher. I’m 38 years old, I’ve been married for fifteen years, and I have both nine kids and a van full of garbage. I’m a homeschooling failure, a drinker, a sorehead, a slob, a pedant, and, depending on who you ask, a prime example of what’s wrong with religious people, what’s wrong with the Church today, or what will continue to be wrong with the Church tomorrow unless we dooooooooooooo something.
The archives from my old blog should be up soon! In the mean time, here is what I look like:
and here is what I feel like:
This lady is not me, however. Repeat: not me.
My sincere thanks to Elizabeth Scalia the Great for inviting me on!