Issues abundant.

In the course of re-reading my last post, I realized there might not be enough context for my family's pinata bashing, especially if the reader is new to Couch Stalker. A while back I posted about the Christmas traditions of my father's family, which include the clever ruse of pinata bashing in order to keep the grandchildren from realizing that one of the uncles is dressing as Santa upstairs. Sounds a bit silly, I suppose, but for most of my single digit years I really believed in that magical visit every year. It was totally cool.

Above is a photo of me hanging out with my one and only nephew, Anthony Otto, while I was visiting Kansas during the 2006 holiday. He is, without question, the most adorable and intelligent baby who has ever lived.

My sister does not plan to call him Tony, thank gawd. His middle name, Otto, is my late maternal grandfather's first name. I learned of Anthony's birth and his name via a voice mail which came late in the night and which I heard while walking uptown on 9th Avenue on my way to work. My grandfather was an incredible man who had a big influence on my life, so I was very touched that my nephew was given his name. I think that's the only time I have cried on the streets of NYC.

Bonfire slept over last night, after NYboL's monthly bar party. He wasn't into going to church with me this morning, so I snuck in on my own, only ten minutes late. The choir sang a modern setting of the mass which included many discordant sounds and unusual patterns, and I found it refreshing and beautiful. For some obscure reason, on this particular Sunday in Lent, the restrictions against using the organ are relaxed. I was enjoying the postlude and checking my text messages, Father Daddy snuck up behind me, put his hand on my shoulder, and told me that he's the kind of rector who will forgive me for using my cell phone in church. My jaw hit the floor; I was so startled I didn't even have a snappy comeback! We had a nice laugh.

For now I have a little serenity.