Anyone watch the "Pope Cam," or the "Vatican Cam," or the "Smoke Cam"? Or, perhaps, you were glued to the "Since-we-have-technology-we-can-put-a-'cam'-on-anything Cam"?
I have to admit, I was glued to the "Vatican Cam" and I was nervous as all get-out. Why? You ask. I have no idea. I was staring intently at the french doors on the Vatican, as if they would spring forth some kind of Divine image that only I, the internet "Vatican Cam" watcher, could see. Nothing on the french doors, but once the Pope-helpers swished down the velvety curtains, I swear I saw "Jesus Rocks!" in the ruby folds. Don't take my word for it though. I've also seen the Madonna in cream cheese on an english muffin. Actually, Scott had a happy face on a piece of toast once. It was like the universe was sending us a message: "I'm so happy you're watching your health and eating 100% whole wheat bread. Have a nice frickin' day!"
Regardless of what signs of Christ I may or may not have seen, I was nervous while awaiting the papal announcement. I felt like I was in 6th grade again, waiting to see if I was popular enough to be a cheerleader. Horrible, cramping knots in my stomach. The only difference was that I was waiting to hear who would be Jesus' right-hand-man in the Catholic church, rather than waiting to hear if that bitch, Robyn, who's mom had to be involved in everything, would make the cheer team.
I'm not disappointed in the choice of pope. Really, we know nothing about the man, except what's printed on his application for Pope. We basically see his curriculum vitae. I can only imagine the kinds of questions they ask on a pope interview:
1. On a scale of 1 to 10, how well would you say you know Jesus?
2. Do you care about everyone in the world? Seriously, do you?
3. What about that kid that flicked his booger on you in 4th grade? Do you care about him?
Even back when I was a wee little lass, I've wondered about the Pope. I used to think he was God. For real, I thought he was God. How could I not? In the Catholic church, the Pope was as close as you could get without being the big G-man Himself. He always looked so nice. I used to wish he was my grandpa--not that I didn't love the grandpas I already had, but talk about getting on the good side! One of my grandpas used to bring me Hershey bars, but if the Pope was my grandpa...whoa. That's like a ticket into heaven. Can you imagine the pressure on your family if you're related to the Pope?! Cripes. I feel bad when I say naughty things because my BROTHER goes to church. If someone I were related to was Pope, I'd just lock myself into a confessional and start a life-long string of "Hail Marys."
I used to want to be a nun. I had a great aunt who was a nun--Sister Alexis. When we visited her at the convent, she'd feed me stale windmill cookies. I loved the way the convent smelled--kinda like a nursing home, but minus the pee smell. It smelled like a big bunch of grandmas mixed in with Old English furniture polish. Anyways, every time we went to visit Sister, I'd come home thinking I was going to be a nun. I'd wear the arm-cover from the recliner as a veil, and conduct church from my mass book. Didn't bother me one bit that my veil was blue and green floral.
Well, I guess that's enough babbling. Guess I'll go find the "Pope-takes-his-first-crap-as-'Pontiff-of-all-that-is-Holy' Cam."
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1 comment:
I always thought my sisters and I were the only ones who used the armchair covers as habits! Nice to know there are others in the club.
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