Sunday Worship

Last week, my mother wrote, “Here I am at my favorite Church on Sunday. The Church of Golf. The Legends Golf & Country Club. Life is good. Thank you Lord.”

not my mother -- also not me

not my mother — also, not me










Am I Mama’s girl?
No, I’m not. *giggles*

Today is the Indianapolis 500.
That’s a church of sorts, as well.  It takes over the city for an entire month. People come from all over the world to vomit and piss beer cheer all over the infield.
It’s like a racin revival, because the Coca-Cola 600 is also on the television today.









(In Indiana, we do corn, basketball, and racin.)

My parents frequented races when I was a small child.

I hated it. They just drive around really fast. Even at the age of eight, I knew that racing should only be fun for the person driving.
Besides, races were almost always hot places. Sometimes I met other children whose parents dragged them to races, and I would play with them, but mostly, I hung out in our camper.
>Flash to me with my Richard Scarry Rainy Day book, cutting out finger puppets and assembling a small village…








You might remember Busytown?









When I was about twelve, I finally confessed my hatred for racing.
My dad said, “Be clear about what you’re saying, because if you really never want to go to another race again, then I will never take you to another race again.”

Sometimes parents say things that backfire on them…

I’d been living a lie, but telling the truth separated me from them.
>Flash to me spending a lot more time with my grandmothers. 


Eventually, I got old enough to stay in the care of Drew’s parents: who dragged me around to churches instead of races.
You know, I still prefer churches to races? At least they have air-conditioning and you can hear yourself think.
(Yes, even as a child, I liked to hear myself think.)








I’m not sure what Sunday Worship for me is. Considering the last three or four years of my life, it might well be nine o’clock programming, with an altar of Haagen-Dazs…
Tonight, Game of Thrones and salted caramel gelato.

About joey

Neurotic Bitch, Mother, Wife, Writer, Word Whore, Foodie and General Go-To-Girl
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6 Responses to Sunday Worship

  1. meg68 says:

    My Sunday worship? A great book and being left the hell alone for the day to read it!! If I could have a bar of chocolate, (any kind, not fussy), that’d be okay too.
    Holy holy choc-o-laaaate, holy holy turn-ing pay-ges. Yep, that’s a great hymn too innit?


  2. Sherry says:

    Gosh I’m so traditional. I go to Church. Catholics are like that, at least the few of us left that actually go to church. Guilt trip. Every Sunday. But it’s my place to be alone with me, and thank God for all that I have, which is an embarrassment of riches at this point. Have a great day and enjoy the food!


    • I hafta laugh because your definition: place to be alone with me, and thank God for all that I have, leads me to the bathtub! I do most of my blessing counting from the tub.
      Everyone needs a place to reconnect, and church does seem to be a popular choice 🙂


  3. Matt Roberts says:

    I hate racing too. But I get the tradition thing, cause Sunday is football day for me, when it’s in season. And when it’s Sunday and football season and I turn on the TV and see racing, homicide is soon to follow.


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