A Lenten Sacrifice?

The sun has finally come out here in Chicago and I spent the day running errands. How are those two things connected? They're not, but I needed an open, and that's what came out. Normally if I spend my day running errands, I grab lunch on the fly. I justify the expenditure by trying to keep the cost low and the time short. That's fine during most of the year. I'll grab a hot dog, burger, gyro, you get the picture. Why do I feel the need to bore you with my lunch selections? "Gee Brian, do you ever have a grilled cheese or just a cup of soup?" Who really cares? Does it seem like I'm stretching today? Alright, now that we know that I eat lunch like just about everyone else, let's get to the point. I can't grab any of my usual lunch choices today because it's Friday, and it's Lent.

I may not strike many people as the most devout guy on the planet, and truth be told, I'm not. I have problems with some Church teachings and may have lapsed a bit in my attendance, but despite all that, one thing stuck from, as my mother is fond of lamenting when my brothers or I act in an unsaintly manner, all those years of Catholic eduction. I don't eat meat on Fridays. I may swear, covet, and dishonor, but God forbid a piece of meat makes it's way down my gullet on Friday. It has to be some old school Catholic guilt at work. Those nuns really know how to work their voodoo. They should be employed by the C.I.A. to win over the hearts and minds of terrorists. No need for a car battery or finger nail pulling pliers when you've got a ruler and some Rosary beads. To be honest, I have slipped in the past. Such transgressions usually happened when I was on the road. I would forget, and then after the horrifying realization set in, I would try to justify my sacrilege with this little chestnut, "If a hamburger is the tipping point for me going to Hell, then I was probably on my way there anyway." I know. You shouldn't trivialize eternal damnation for the sake of a Whopper Junior.

I don't mind forsaking meat anymore. I've grown to enjoy fish of all sorts and a couple years ago discovered the joys of the pepper and egg sandwich. If you've never tried one of these tasty snacks, you have no idea what you're missing. Imagine fluffy scrambled eggs, sauteed green peppers, a tangy Italian cheese of your choosing all nestled in a crusty French roll. You can't swing a martyred saint in this town without hitting a place that serves up the pepper and egg "Lent special." Last week, after an unusually bad offering from a local gyro place (I should have never trusted a Greek restaurant with what is traditionally an Italian concoction) I took the pepper by the stem and made my own. Oh the joy! Like most things, except for electrical work, cake decorating and sex, it's always better when you do it yourself. I'm off to make one now. Seeing as it's Friday, I might have to wash it down with a "Half and Half". No silly, not the cream, the beer. This weekend is the start of the St. Patrick's Day celebration, so a little Guinness and Harp will be a nice way to usher in my pre-work nap. Hey, I said I gave up meat on Friday, not beer. How much is one man supposed to sacrifice? I'm not Job.

This weekend will be known as the "Two Pints of Noonan" weekend on WGN. Tonight/Saturday morning (2-5 am) I'll be welcoming some traditional Irish musicians. Nothing will keep you hopping in the middle of the night like some bagpipe and fiddle music. Saturday night/Sunday morning (1-5 am) there will be Irish trivia on the "WGN Overnight Arcade" and a call to the old sod. Toss in a wee bit more Irish music, complaining about some current events and the always horrifying story of my drunken St. Patrick's Day ear piercing and what you've got is some "Radio O'Revernce." I hope you can join me. Now off to the stove. Have a great weekend. Later..Brian