So, here’s what they suggest doing.
In the contrarian spirit of Saint Jerome, whose feast it was first, here are some alternative ideas:
Put a WWJDrive bumper sticker on your 15-passenger van.
Tell a girl that growing up to be a wife and mommy is an interesting and intellectually satisfying thing to do.
Buy a boy an AirSoft gun, some genuine lead soldiers, and a miniature Mass set.
Remind yourself that the entire world isn’t twenty-two years old, and that looking and acting your age is not a sign of dementia.
Admit that you don’t know who Jon and Kate are, much less care what they do.
Shop at Wal-Mart.
Drink some instant coffee, some Hawaiian Punch, and/or some jug wine.
Do something for the sole reason that your husband would like it.
Admit that you hated reading Lolita.
Put a disposable diaper on that baby.
Wave a Confederate battle flag (it’s one way to get people to talk to you).
Stay married.
Sing “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”
Don’t work out.
This would also be a good day to recite the Divine Praises as a subversive gesture.
(With many thanks to my group of friends who’ve been sending around their own “alternative blasphemy” suggestions. This is my contribution to that conversation.)
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