Godfather, Give Me Justice!

It's my sincere hope to hear that at some point. This is much more likely than on Friday, since I'm now a Godfather.

That's right. Someone out there has entrusted their son's spiritual upbringing to this guy right here. And by "someone out there", I'm referring to my older brother. And by "their son", I'm referring to my nephew Brody. And by "this guy", I mean myself.

Although, as St. Thomas Aquinas points out in the Summa,

if they are brought up among Catholic Christians, the godparents may well be excused from this responsibility, since it may be presumed that the children will be carefully instructed by their parents.

Since both parents are on the correct team, I'm probably off the hook. But still. I'll keep my eyes out.

Although things weren't all great. For one, we drove down, which is never raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. I'd describe it as six hours of misery. Got done with it pretty quickly, though.

The food was great. Mexican on Friday night at tasty delicious Abuelo's. Barbeque on Saturday at Famous Dave's.

I had the St. Louis-style ribs. Why is it every barbeque place in America serves St. Louis style ribs, and yet I've never actually had ribs in St. Louis? Answer: because all the good places to have ribs in St. Louis are in pretty shoddy neighborhoods. Which basically means if you want to have good barbeque in St. Louis, you have to think ahead and go during the day. Like Saturday afternoon. Unless you like to live dangerously.

And of course, breakfast at the great Jimmy's Egg.

But not without a cost. Somewhere in the midst of all this eating, my mother came down with some kind of digestive malady and was hospitalized. In fact, she's still there right now, awaiting the results of the last test. At this point, they've got it narrowed down to two things: either A) a gall bladder infection or B) the Mexican food.

So, be sure to either pray for, think good thoughts about, or cast positive energy into the cosmos in the general direction of Judy.