cake ...

today i went down south to mel's first communion. a white-dress affair featuring 30 8-year-olds dizzy with red wine fever. i spent most of the mass assigning various "how we met" stories to the couples within my line of vision:

frat party.
same law firm. ... wait, no, siblings.
match.com.
blind date.
happy hour at champs.

since my last trip to a catholic church, they've added a verse to the "our father" and completely eliminated kneeling from the repertoire. i like to think the latter followed a letter-writing campaign that really united the congregation's geriatrics with high school basketball players who had recently had, or were in the process of having, ACL surgery.



also, in a closed captioning version of one of the prayers, catholic wasn't capitalized but church was. i flipped it over in my mind, wondering why and only later realizing it probably wasn't on purpose and therefore didn't have a larger meaning.

i had to practically walk backward from communion because i wanted to see what mel would do when faced with the challis of wine. [tips to a barely perceptible degree, quickly hands it back to the woman.] brother pista asked if she was going back up for seconds. she decided she could probably eat five of the communion breads.

then back to the pista's for shish kabobs and cake that really raised the bar on what i will expect from desserts in the future. [thank god grandma pista let me lick her plate, too. i made sure to get frosting in my fingernails to gnaw at on the drive home.]



let this be a lesson: ma pista+iphone=cleavage shots.


here we are, mel's godparents. sister-in-law pista's brother and me. i think we get mel if the pista brother and sister-in-law decide they don't want her anymore. at least that is what i gleaned from the rules.

then i drove home and cracked a bottle of wine and listened to depeche mode's "music for the masses." i was into this tape at the same time as i was into 21 jump street. "never let me down again" will always remind me of johnny depp.