It's that time of year again

I am Catholic.

That sentence means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. To me it means that during Lent I do my best not to eat meat on Fridays. You maybe see this one coming: today is the first Friday of Lent.

Growing up in a Catholic household, no meat Fridays mean one of three things could be for dinner: fish, spaghetti, or pizza. Maybe it was because Tuesday was more often the spaghetti night, or because fish wasn't tops on mine or my sister's lists. Whatever the reason, when I was very young Lent was one of my favorite times of year because it usually signified double pizza day.

At my Catholic grade school, Fridays were always pizza day. You brought in your pizza money at the beginning of the week and then on Friday mornings the teacher doled out the smooth, wooden buttons that served as pizza tickets. I always got two slices of pizza. This was in the blissful time of life before most of lunch hour was spent with mean girls taking stock of who brought Diet Coke for lunch, and complaining that their barely pubescent bodies were "too fat," a ridiculous assertation as none of us had anything more than baby fat on our bones.

I remember walking down to the cafeteria in a line, excitedly clutching my two wooden buttons. Some kids claimed that they liked recess best, or gym. But I was nerdy and spent most recess periods reading, and completely afraid of being hit when we played kickball during gym. Friday lunchtime was the best time of the week for me. As aforementioned, my mom was a Pizza Mom so I would say hi to her and get my two delicious slices of heaven and hope hope hope that we would also have pizza for dinner. Which we usually did. SCORE.

I think because of this Friday pizza day turning into Friday pizza night I have been conditioned to want, nay, EXPECT pizza on Fridays. This is especially the case during Lent. I just had two slices for lunch and I must say, I feel a little bit holier than I did this morning.

Thank you, God, for pizza.