I Should Not Be Your Lenten Role Model

Alternately titled: Remember When I Told You I Was An Idiot?

Do you all remember my nice post about Lent that went up on Friday? How I waxed on about Lenten obligations and my memories of being a kid during the time of no-meat Fridays?

I had written that on Thursday so it would post at 12:01 on Friday morning… and then I went to bed because my sister Laura and brother-in-law Jeff were coming for lunch the next day. My nephew Thomas is an excellent basketball player (just ask me) and he had a tournament nearby this past weekend, which means I got to hang out with his lovely parents.

It was a rainy, crummy day here in Iowa on Thursday, which means I was feeling pretty crummy myself and sleep alluded me the majority of the night. So when I finally rolled out of bed on Friday morning at 11:15, and Laura called at 11:30 to see what sounded good for lunch because they were in town, I wasn’t exactly bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and thinking things through. She said they were right by a Kentucky Fried Chicken and I said, “That sounds perfect! I haven’t had that in ages and I love mashed potatoes. Let’s do that!”

[Does anyone see where I’m going with this yet?]

I hung up and finished putting on my mascara before sitting down to the computer to check on the blog. You know, the one that posted on Friday morning where I told you about my fish/chicken confusion? The one where I’m a smart-alec and tell you all at the end: “And remember, it’s Friday: NO CHICKEN.”

Yeah… that one.

I died laughing as I realized that I just told my sister chicken sounded great for lunch on a Lenten Friday, and called my mom to tell her that I’m an idiot (as if giving birth to me and knowing me for 35 years wasn’t enough for her to know that already). Here’s how our conversation went:

Mom: “You know, when the Hispanic hired hands on the farm learned we only ate fish on Fridays they told your dad that in Mexico chicken isn’t considered meat and is ok during Lent. They said it’s different because chickens come from eggs.”

Me: “Umm… Mom? Unless something changed from my 5th grade sex education class until now, we all originate from eggs.”

And that right there, people, is proof that I get it from my mother.