I'd Settle for Seattle. Or Even Galveston.

Have I mentioned I'm getting confirmed?  Sunday?  With a real-live bishop and everything?

I am.

I'm not going to wear my big bishop-esque vampire-repelling cross.  And I'm not going to dress like Anton LaVey.  Still not going to wear a dress, though.  Check off another box on the List of Things I'm Not Willing to Wear Panty-Hose For.  Anything else I should do or not do?

Oh, and I gotta remember to go to confirmation class on Saturday.  That's really why I am writing this.  It's a big ol' sticky note in the blogosphere to help me not to wander off on Saturday morning and forget all about my immortal soul and such.

This past Sunday, the Priest told me, all casual and off-hand, that she'd done some research and someone my age doesn't have to have a godmother for confirmation.  She would just act as my sponsor.  I smiled and nodded, but in reality I was all "waaaaaiiiiiit!  Fairy Godmother?! I might want one of those! Do they come with their own wand?  Do I get three wishes?  Should I bring a bottle?  An apple?  Some cooperative house mice?!"

So many questions.  But I don't know them well enough at this point, so I just kept my mouth shut.  And that right there was a miracle. Kept my mouth shut.  Y'all remember this and eventually, when I'm up for canonization, this bit of thaumaturgy will help get me my own feast day.

Does Transylvania already have a patron saint?  What are my chances?  I don't wanna get stuck being the Benefactor of Akron, or something lame like that.