The “logs” were wonky. So much so that they caused the flame to go to one side – at least primarily – and blocked the heat. Let alone to my OCD self they were just un-natural.

Maybe making Sunday a day of rest was a good idea, Lord.

So we (Mama and The Heir Apparent) attended the first of five six-hour classes called “Basic Teachings of the Catholic Faith” at our Parish. It was nice, because it was a rare moment where Mama, Kristofer or I were NOT the ones doing the teaching!

Even scarier was dragging the vacuum back over the same strip and hearing the same thing, as more got pulled in. Desperately hoping I was done, I pushed forward over the strip and there was the noise, a little less but still there.

So I celebrated Confession, particularly and specifically for my Wife, Our Marriage, and The Boyz.

You see where I’m going with this? And you know why they are nasty, right? Well, there’s only one person who stands up to pee in that bathroom… That picture above is after cleaning, before removal.

Really, it’s not an excuse. Based on what I did today, the closet just might be a safe place! Just don’t tell the crybabies at the University of Missouri or Yale, or they’ll want to come be safe in my closet…

What a picture is worth…

It was pretty simple – sausage, ground beef, vegetables, some peppercorns and a rub I like to use for flavor, and some garlic. Then we wait. The crock pot gets to enjoy it for a long time.

But I wanted to do it early, also, so that Mama would have me around during the day. Tomorrow is one of her all-day-at-the-Church days for various catechesis and faith formation, so we won’t see much of her before we go to Mass in the evening.

I’m not sure if I have more shoes than Mama – but it’s gotta be close. Hmmm… There’s something wrong with that. Gonna get me a Marco Rubio complex…

Laundry is a special kind of Hell. I think perhaps Jesus must have gone and done the Apostles’ laundry during those three days. There can be no worse Hell of the Seven I know about!

My duties can be anywhere from nothing to everything, depending on what Mama needs or finds out she needs. She goes to work at lunchtime and doesn’t get home until I bring her and The Boyz home usually well after 8:00 PM.

So – while trying to be delicate here – I don’t think that the personal space I share with Mama needs to be relegated singularly to my razors and extra deodorant.

Part of my goal with #40D4W is to NOT tell Mama that I’ve sacrificed for her. The Lord knows and I know, and she knows when she finds out, but not through my coaxing.

I typically get a little perturbed when things get planned without me but I’m expected to follow the plan, and this happens a lot when we go to San Antonio. This time, in light of my goal and my 40 Days 4 Wife attempt, I gave into the time thing and just went with the flow.

So I sacrificed my Labor, and probably my ego, to run the gauntlet at the local store just to get blind-sided (there’s another one!) by a baker who says there are no dinner rolls because the oven is broken.

Men are naturally inclined to put their best foot forward, or at least the appearance of doing so, in front of their children. Sitting down to write out Goals is an exercise of faith and humility, but it also requi9res checking my ego at the door, so that I can honestly accept the constructive criticism and guidance of my Wife and children during this time.

And then the phrase “Forty Days For Wife” popped into my head. I’m pretty solid in the belief that when ideas “pop” into my head they are more often than not nudges from God, so I dwelt on them a bit. Sometimes they are of the Devil, and dwelling on them for a moment gives me clarity on that, too