We are in church, of all places. Mass has just begun and there is a baptism today. The parents, their soon to be baptized infant son, and the godparents, are gathered on the alter facing the congregation. I see the godmother and the first word that comes to mind is hooker. I know, be nice. I also know I shouldn't be thinking about hookers in church. You'll be glad to know I'm alive and well and lightening didn't strike. So the next time you're there, think away. But really, it isn't nice to watch. And she appears young enough that a parent should have intervened. Chomping gum, wearing clothing that may require medical intervention to remove and something on her feet that closely resembles fuzzy slippers. Although, on my daily errand runs I have noticed that slippers are now considered socially acceptable in public. I waste too many days contemplating that one. Her fingernails could take an eye out and are covered in blue glitter. I can also only assume that she lost her hair brush. It happens to me, I really can't judge. I think she may have even rolled her eyes. Up towards God I'm sure. Very ungodmotherly. That poor, soon to be holy, kid. At least he's a boy. He won't be taking any fashion advice from this gooker. I know, I know, you can't judge a
My thoughts don't get any nicer. With at least forty-five minutes left to go in Mass, I'm in the bathroom with Grady. A grandmother walks in with her granddaughter. They happen to be sitting right next to us in our pew. This child cannot be older than three. The kid has to go to the bathroom. The grandmother mentions there are no toilet seat covers and can she just wait until they get home to go to the bathroom? I want to bop this woman on the head. Gooker. Be nice Lisa.
Grady is being very nice. All he
So glad my name starts with an L. So when people think of calling me a hooker in the very nicest way possible...which wouldn't be a very nice thing to do...I would just be a looker.