My son's aide mentioned that she saw me at Stations on Friday night. She tried to get my attention afterwards but couldn't.

Honestly, even if I had heard someone whisper "Mrs. Skelton", I don't think I would have responded. She was so formal probably because she can't remember my first name.

Yes, she attends the same church as me but I've only seen her twice in the three months that I've been back to regular (or is it "routine"?) attendance. I've stopped being on the look-out for her.

In fact, the bottom line is that I've stopped looking out for a familiar face there at all. Even in this small town, I don't have the good fortune of bumping into anyone that I know at church, except maybe Jesus, but only on occasion.

On Saturday night after Mass, someone slammed me on my shoulder with their open palm just to tell me, "Oh, I was going to say 'hi' to you because I thought you were Mary Ann, but I see that you are not Mary Ann." No, I'm not but you can say "hi" to me anyway, if you want.

Well, no, I didn't growl that back to them. That's what this blog is for. M'very 'wn pitch'r a "Dorian Gray".