Church Lady

In all the frenetic back-to-school hoopla I'd nearly forgotten about the conflict over the RES special Mass I was rounding the final turn toward.

But soon enough Her Royal Piousness sends another cheerfully worded e-mail inviting all the boys and girls of t Our Lady of Condemnation to join the football team and the cheerleading squad – which will meet for practice at some inopportune time for any child whose parents hold jobs.

And just as I was muttering an expletive and striking the delete key, I remembered.

Miss Holiest of Holies has never responded to my request for the identity of someone of greater authority to whom I could appeal her (nit-wit) decision.

I find the last e-mail I sent to her and forward it to her again with a somewhat pissy-toned, decidedly demanding second message stating that I would like the courtesy of a reply from her, and expect it by the close of business that day.

I wonder if she knows what “close of business” means.

I am shocked when a plainly worded (not sugar plum fairy sweet) reply message appears in my mailbox moments later.

No greeting. No bestowing of blessings with her signature. In fact, no signature at all.

“You can call Msgr. Gregory.”

You can kiss my a**.
You can drop dead.
You can go to Hell.

That’s sort of the way it sounded.

And I am sure she was thinking that surely I would be put off by the notion of contacting Msgr Gregory. Shiver me timbers!

Well, what Madame Church Lady does not know is that my mother didn’t raise a shrinking violet. I would knock on the door of the Pope himself if that was the way to get this resolved.

Of course, I have to look up his number on the parish website, because the courtesy of her reply failed to courteously provide the information needed to do what she suggested.

I get the phone and dial. I am trying hard to think like a reasonable person when his secretary answers.

I am as sweet as Sweet Polly Purebread as I make my request. This is going to be good.