Today’s the day. Donald Trump finally got a criminal conviction. You’d think I’d have planned all kinds of things to say, but I’m feeling tongue-tied. In the spring of 2016, just before Easter, my friend Sam asked if I wanted to start a Patheos blog for writing about Catholicism. In November of 2016, then-Father Frank Pavone put a 40-year-old corpse on an altar in order to shill for a con artist and serial adulterer who was trying to get... Read more
It was finally the cool of the day. I was hoping for rain. It’s now summer, meteorologically at least. Summer is full of heartbreak for a gardener in Steubenville. When it’s summer, the air swells with hot water as if you’re trapped in a steam room– hotter and more humid, still hotter and more humid. There is, invariably, between thirty and fifty percent chance of a good soaking rain to pop the bubble of humidity. That’s not enough to... Read more
All week, the people have been clamoring about a priest who bit a woman trying to receive Communion at Mass. I was bemused because I kept seeing that headline in isolation and wondering what on earth was going on. Everything about the story seemed bizarre. People were saying conflicting things about it. Somehow, a woman tried to receive Communion at Thomas Aquinas Church in Saint Cloud, Florida, and the priest bit her. I couldn’t imagine how such an event could... Read more
I woke up sore, itchy, and worried. One of the errands I ran yesterday, before I made that strawberry jam, was a trip to the doctor. In 2021, the nurse who was giving me my COVID vaccine pointed out that one of the moles on my shoulders was getting dark, so I got a referral to the dermatologist’s office to have it biopsied. The dermatologist cut off two odd-looking moles, one of which turned out to be normal, but... Read more
I figured out how to make strawberry jam. I planted those five little strawberry plants in 2020, when Trump and Biden were running for president and the whole world was falling to pieces. The menacing neighbor ran onto my property one Sunday morning in a fit of mania and tore one of those strawberry plants out of the ground, along with a bean pole and most of the broccoli, but the other four plants survived. They sent out runners,... Read more
We need to talk about Donald Trump again. I look forward to the day when I don’t ever have to talk about Donald Trump again, but that day hasn’t come yet. The prosecution and the defense have rested in Trump’s tawdry Hush Money trial. This is Trump’s first criminal trial, but not his first trial for his disgusting dealings with a woman. We’ve heard from the sleaze David Pecker and from Stormy Daniels. We know details we wish we didn’t... Read more
The talk on the internet right now, is all about the stereotype of the Tradwife. A Tradwife, as you know, is a vicious stereotype of a certain kind of stay-at-home wife and mother: the kind who appears obnoxiously perfect, cooking everything from scratch, tending the family garden with ease, caring for children with infinite patience, and all while looking chic in a modest yet sexy dress and manicure. There are social media influencers who claim to be Tradwives, and their... Read more
Last night I went dancing. This was because of the Baker Street Irregulars, Adrienne’s old friends who live at the corner. There were only five Baker Street Irregulars when they moved into the rental house, and now there are at least six, but they never hold still long enough to be counted. The middle child of the Baker Street Irregulars, the one who saw God, is a musician. I didn’t know this until she came pelting up to my... Read more
I found myself thinking about the difference between a human and a robot’s version of Christianity, for the second time in a few weeks. This time, Harrison Butker is to blame. I don’t even know who Harrison Butker is. In fact, when I saw the words “Harrison Butker” next to a photo of a meticulously coiffed bearded man at a college graduation, I actually thought the photo and name were something an AI had mocked up. I believed this... Read more
I’d meant to work in the garden all day, but I kept having to run errands. First I had to pick up Adrienne from school, where they had celebrated the upcoming end of the school year with a Color Run, with all the teachers spraying the students with powdered dye. She got in the car with neon pink residue all over her t-shirt, and left it smeared on the passenger seat. I joked that it was the first pink... Read more
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