the ocean

I was called into service again as a godfather, this time for my niece. As an officially documented Catholic, I tend to be in demand for these services; unless you can produce proof of Confirmation, you get shunted off to Christian Witness status pretty fast. This time, I had to show up half an hour early for a practice session, which largely consisted of a sassy woman named Etta warning me that I'd better damned well answer yes when they asked me if I was ready to sponsor this child in the Catholic faith. I really do find it difficult to believe they have a real problem with people answering no with any frequency, but maybe that's just me. Maybe there are people who like to get dressed up and sit through a full mass just to fuck with them.

Anyway, the baptism went off without a hitch, unless you count my nephew basically trying to bathe himself in the baptismal fount. Or babbling to himself throughout the service. Or tossing a T Rex figurine across the church. Fortunately, he's still at an age where he can get by with pretty much anything. But I try to play one round of Candy Crush during the Nicene Creed and suddenly I'm blacklisted.