My husband once asked me to chose, him or Catholicism. I’m still Catholic. And still divorced. I could no sooner stop being Catholic than I could stop myself from breathing. Even then, dead as a door nail, I’d still be Catholic.

I have a son who is Catholic. Even my damn cat is named after a Pope. My collection of Catholic kitsch is the envy of all the little Abuelitas. Everything I own has been blessed. Twice. Even the damn cat.

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Hmm. I see a lot of guitars… but I still haven’t spotted any reverence.
Anyone reading this blog is not practicing custody of the eyes.

“You have no idea how much nastier I would be if I was not Catholic. Without supernatural aid I would hardly be a human being.” –Evelyn Waugh.