I will apologize in advance, dear readers, because I know some of you will read this on Ash Wednesday. It's inappropriate and will be offensive to some of you. Sorry. I mean it.
I am in the show business. Not the "there's no business like show business" kind of business. I am in the Trade Show business. And my show is next week. There's no way to describe how frazzled and full my brain is, but let me take a shot anyway. This is the equivalent of April 13 for a CPA. It's December 23 for anyone in retail. It's the last day of the month for someone who sells cars. It's the weekend before school starts for anyone with kids. Are you getting the picture?
I have a bunch of last minute stuff to coordinate. I have to time perfectly the haircut, the manicure, buying enough milk to get the family through my time away, without overstocking the fridge. There's laundry to do, bills to pay, outfits to coordinate, and a whole host of personal care items that must be addressed. And even though I've known for a year this day is coming, it seems to slip up out of nowhere and run me down like a bus driven by an angry man.
I realized at the PTA board meeting two weeks ago that Ash Wednesday falls two days before I get on a plane to leave for a week, right in the middle of Pre-Show Hysteria Week. My days are carefully scheduled to be sure nothing falls through the cracks, and I realized that night that I have no time to celebrate Ash Wednesday service as I have in the past.
I am a really terrible Catholic, but I have always attended mass on Ash Wednesday, and I wear my ashes proudly and keep in my mind what they symbolize.
Last year, I committed myself to living consciously during the days of Lent, and rather than give something up, I pledged to write something every day. Some of it I published online, some of it not so much. I kicked off the days of Lent by celebrating with dear friends at Ash Wednesday service over lunch. The church was beautiful, the message right on target, and the company could not be beat. And I did pretty darn well with my pledge.
This year, my dear sweet friends will meet again to go to church over lunch and to reflect on the days past and more importantly, the days to come. They will kneel together and sing and walk down the aisle for communion.
And you know what I'll be doing? I'll be getting a Brazilian wax job.
That's right, folks. As my friends kneel together in prayer and reflection, I will be getting my lady parts sugar-waxed by a lady aptly named Kim Lower, who owns Pretty Kitties salon. Really, girls, you can't make this stuff up. Google her.
Anyway, I'm hoping God will forgive me this year for over-scheduling and overlooking the uber-holiday that is Ash Wednesday. I'm pretty sure I'll be serving my own type of penance while my friends go to church.
One of my coworkers (yes, this has been a subject of great interest to my friends at the office) suggested that rather than going with the standard full monty or landing strip, perhaps I should consider leaving only a cross. That would sure keep the Lord on my mind for the next 46 days.
Peace be with you.