Confession Saturday One Day Late

I confess:

--I went to real confession this week (modeling desired behavior for The Bean), and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. It probably helps that the confessor is one of my dear friends. I confess, I always feel like I have to have a good enough sin -- you know, sinful enough -- whenever I go to confession. At this point in my life, the old standbys from childhood and adolescence don't cut it: I'm not mean to my brothers or disobedient to my parents anymore. Looking into the deep, dark, truthful mirror isn't always fun, and the sins these days seem a lot deeper and more damaging, but overall I'm glad I went.

--I had nothing to say to The Bean afterwards when I asked him how it went for him and he said, "Well, it was fine, Mom. I mean, it's only a belief so it didn't really affect me." Which would also explain why my jaw dropped last night as we returned from 4:30 Mass and he said, " That was GREAT!" I confess, so far my strategy for The Bean's religious formation is to keep my mouth shut, go to Mass whenever possible, and try to model living a good, kind, thoughtful, godly life.

--I am physically incapable of typing the year 2010 without typos, backspacing, and trying again. And again. And again. I confess, it wouldn't bother me so much if I didn't have to type it pretty much every day.

--I had two things wrong in my Pride and Prejudice and Chocolate post. (1) Persuasion is not on Masterpiece tonight; Northanger Abbey is. Persuasion airs next Sunday, February 21. (2) There are no pinafores in Pride and Prejudice. That must have been some other Jane Austen book-cum-movie, maybe Sense and Sensibility.

--The Olympic Anthem makes me cry. What is that? I mean, does it all go back to watching the Miracle On Ice in the 1980 Winter Olympics when the U.S. hockey team beat the Soviet Union? Or is it something else?

--I confess, I was a nervous wreck on Friday when my favorite high schooler climbed up on my roof to rake some of the snow off. I was so nervous that I called his mom, KK, to ask if I should run right out there and tell him to get-down-right-now-for-god's-sake-before-he-hurt-himself. KK was very reassuring and promised me he had done much more dangerous things and lived to tell the tale. I have learned to let go, she said. I confess, I am glad to have wise women in my life whose children are older than mine, and from whom I can learn things like how to let go.

--I didn't write at all last week. I slept in every morning. I completed all my many household tasks with patience and devotion. I let the writing desk sit alone but, I hope, not lonely (I confess, I left my desk lamp on all day every day as a symbolic message to myself: You may not be writing this week, but we'll leave the light on for ya.). I confess, when I'm not writing it is much easier to get enough sleep and to run the household smoothly. My days were less stressful. On the other hand, I know what happens when I go too long with out writing. So yesterday morning, I was back at it and have four new drafts to work on. Yahooooooo!

--I confess, I feel like a nerd for downloading this font that is supposed to look like Jane Austen's handwriting (based on her letters):



Happy Valentine's Day to you, and may you find some Whimsy somewhere in your week.

Oh, and here's a little something just in case you need a good cry: