Say a little prayer for me...

I stopped at my church on the way home from work today. I wanted to submit a mass intention for my husband's deceased grandmother, as we are coming upon the 1 year anniversary of her passing (RIP Grandma). While I was there, my funny Irish priest peaked around the corner and saw it was me standing in the lobby. I know he's a priest but he checks me out; he checks all the ladies out. It's okay though because he is so funny and he sings cute little Irish songs, so that no one really minds. And it's better than him checking out, say the alter boys...I am just saying. Anyway, as he came around the corner and gave me a once over, I told him he had to start praying for me to get pregnant. He asked if I had been trying, and because I am apparently obsessed with the hysterladygaga (see yesterday's post) I have to get, I started to explain about the fallopian tube procedure. He looked at me with twisted lips and squinty eyes and started slowly backing away. Okay, check yourself Sheri, TMI. But I mean if a priest can hear about all the sins people commit, surely he can hear about my pregnancy woes, right? Anyway, he shook his head yes to let me know he would start praying for me and suddenly disappeared. I will probably end up with babies everywhere because he will pray exta hard just so he won't hear things he doesn't want to from me again.