I was raised as a lazy Catholic. We started with church on Sundays; my mom, brother and I and after we went to the bagel store for mini bagels, orange juice, and flavored cream cheese [cinnamon walnut for me, olive for mom, and blueberry for my brother...] I didn’t really mind church as long as there were carbohydrates to look forward to after. When I got older I started questioning god, and we only went to church on holidays [and even than some of the time we were content to just sit in the living room with a fire lit and hot apple cider on Christmas Eve..] I began reading books about religion, and decided Catholicism wasn’t for me. No more church, Philosophy books my father [who's not very religious] eagerly bought me, and in typical teenager fashion an itching to argue with anyone who wanted to talk about the ten commandments.

I still believe though. In something. Maybe God, maybe Buddah, maybe Zeus but they’re all the same to me. When I’m going to fly on a plane, I reallly  believe in God, and when I got the phone call the other night that my father [who's a raging alchoholic] was very, very, deathly ill I once again turned to GodBuddahZeus and my dog and husband for help. I asked people, random strangers on my blog to pray for him, and he IS getting better. He has so long to go but he’s better. Maybe it’s the strong medicines they give him in the hospital, or maybe my dog answered my little weak half assed prayers at 2am when I cried into his stinky fur.

It’s been a little bit of a rough week. Sick dads, rain on the fourth of July, shit happens. I’m actually really content and happy now though, and that’s a weird feeling. So yes, I guess this is my “belated happy whatever” wishes to you. Have a good weekend Imperfects.