Eve of Saint Joseph

I am rather excited about tomorrow although now I am wondering if opening the blog to a day (a whole day!) of masculine commentary is a good idea. I was at a party recently with some shamelessly open eavesdroppers, and they complained because I had dropped the Cardinal O posts. They said such an erasure was Orwellian. I said it was not, and explained why. They said my argument was a mess an example of feminine logic. I said that was ridiculous.

"Bless your little heart," said one, and great was the hearty masculine laughter at my expense.

"I'm glad you read my work in such detail," said I. 

Of course, I do wonder now if eavesdroppers, if they are in a terrible thought-bog worrying about the mystery and wickedness of women, cheer up by saying inwardly "Bless her little heart" towards every woman they see on the streets---as I tell you to do regarding men when you are in a thought bog about men.    

At any rate it reminded me of how boisterous men are and how tempted women are so often to feed Ritalin to them all. We often want to hear what men think, and then we are so shocked when we hear it. It's like saying, "Oh, I love seals" and then actually finding yourself swimming among a whole herd of seals and uneasily wondering what they might do.  I mean, you know: men and words.

However, as my blog is read by ladies, presumably it is read by gentlemen, so all will be well. Still, it is the internet, so I think the best way to proceed is to accept only men's comments tomorrow, and allow no immediate female responses. Regular readers (i.e. women) will have a whole day to craft your beautifully thoughtful and kind responses before posting them up on Wednesday. Does that seem fair? 

I think it seems fair because occasionally I have a look to see what those pesky Catholic dating websites are up to, and I know perfectly well men and women  jostle and joust and pout and flirt in the message-boards, and it's all so cutesy and pointless and cowardly and a waste of your $15/month (or whatever) that it makes me ill. 

Tomorrow's exercise is not about making connections but purely about the pure, unrestricted desire to know. Eavesdroppers answer your questions, and eavesdroppers ask their questions. What will they come up with? Or will they refuse to speak at all? Oh well. I suppose their very unpredictability is part of what makes them the caffeine in the cappuccino of life.