It was long ago, not far away. My wife went to confession to this priest during the season of lent. Now this priest was old school, thought lent involved fasting, a really archaic mind set.  He was thinking "let’s turn a clock back to the thirteenth century". Anyways, my wife walked out of confession with the assigned penance of going and buying herself a chocolate éclair. I was flabbergasted. I wasn't thinking this may have had something to do with her lingering post-partum depression. I was thinking, "I’m next in line".

I was thinking, this guy is a genius. Talk about bringing Catholics back to the sacraments. Soon there’s going to be a confession line-up around the block. Unload your sins and then head out to the doughnut shop for some guilt-free, sugar-coated, sparkly, mouth-watering goodness.
Reader, don’t judge. I know you are thinking I am trying to manipulate God, trying to play games with the Almighty and His coming down to earth to pay for the sins of humanity and my sins also. But hear me out. I LOVE chocolate eclairs.

They are beyond doubt my favorite pastry. Just as an aside, I am the type of person with many great ideas, but not the greatest follow through… One of my big ideas is a new motivational poster for offices and work spaces throughout the country: a flashy, slick poster with bright colors featuring a forward-looking donkey with a sparkling orange carrot suspended in front of him. It would be embossed with a catchy slogan like  “The Pursuit of Happiness” or “Onward, to the next big idea” or maybe “The thrill of the chase.” Only, I want it somehow to be a guy like me, a modern-day everyman, going after a chocolate éclair, this delectable pastry that is forever beyond his reach. Unrequited love never dies.

So to sum up, when I heard that my wife had scored a chocolate éclair in the middle of lent, I thought “victory is mine. I’m going to confession.” Now, dear reader, I am going to do something a tad mean, junkyard-dog-mean to be honest. I am NOT going to reveal the outcome of my visit to the confessional until next week. I know you will be on the edge of your seat in anticipation, but that is the way it's done now, any psychological manipulation tools it takes to rack up the clicks. Until next week.