What were we thinking?
or
More Theology, More Geometry
Four days after Chuck’s confirmation and things have just about settled down. Despite my resolve to keep my mind fixed firmly on the sacrament and not get bogged down in peripheral details, some things got a little out of control. Before Rick and Chuck left for the rehearsal last Wednesday night, I casually suggested that they invite Chuck’s sponsor and his family over for cake after the Mass.

[- a slight digression: While nibbling on hors d’oeuvres and cookies while waiting to have Chuck’s picture taken with the bishop, I overheard two women talking. One was telling the other, “I don’t want the kids to fill up on snacks here, we’re going to be having a special party at the country club. It’s a family tradition.” I wanted to lean into the exchange and say, “I encourage my children to graze among the crudites and mini-quiches. Then we go straight home for cake. It’s a family tradition.”]

In a move that should definitely be filed under We Never, Ever Do Nothin’ Nice and Easy... a quick family meeting decided that this was the time to rip up the repugnant carpeting and put down laminate flooring. Before I knew what was happening, I was packing up tea cups and tsotchkes, Fran and Martha were cutting and ripping and the boys were pressed into service to move furniture and tote the bio-hazard rug and padding to the curb.

Chuck, having had quite his fill of theology got a crash course in geometry, among other things, in the two frantic days spent helping his father and grandfather lay the floor. By Saturday morning all was complete but nailing in the quarter-round trim. So we moved everything back in to the living room and dining room and prepared to get ready for church. (Some times it is a blessing to have a name near the end of the alphabet. In this instance, it put us into the 2:00PM group. If we were in the morning group we just couldn’t have pulled this off.)

Everything else was a piece of cake. I managed to stay focused on the sacrament. And maybe having a big project beforehand helped keep Chuck from becoming obsessively nervous.

Well....there was that one iffy moment. Already running a bit late, Rick could only find one dress sock. I bought and hid new dress socks for Chuck because I remembered that he had worn SpongeBob Christmas socks to my sister’s wedding. Halfway through screaming, “Well, what did you wear to my sister’s wedding?” I remembered that he had worn Simpsons’ Christmas socks. Not appropriate at all. Not to imply that I could have found them if they had been appropriate.

Oh, that and Fran’s develpment of an allergic reaction to something (evil carpet fungus?) and winding up in the emergency room with one eye swollen shut.

Note to Embot: Thanks again for picking up the cake.