I started my own church. I'm not particularly religious, but a few years ago, when my mom was bugging me about going to church with her, I decided I'd just start my own Sunday tradition. Also, I'd just been dumped and I needed something more productive to do than sit around at home alone feeling sorry for myself.
Thus, the Church of Waffles was born. Most of my friends are of similar secular bent as myself, but as it turns out, we could all get behind (or outside of) a good waffle.
At the time, I was living with my old roommate Carrie, in a big house with a wood stove. Saturdays I would clean and Sunday mornings I would get up early, start a big fire in the wood stove and start cooking. In addition to waffles, I would usually make veggie and regular sausage or bacon, and some kind of egg dish. I finally learned to make and grew to love frittatas but sometimes I'd do a big scramble or once, an omelet bar. I'm really good at omelets. Juice, coffee and tea would round out the menu.
I did this, just about every Sunday, from December 2005 to March 2006. The last one I pulled out all the stops and asked Stephanie to come and play, which she did. It was fabulous.
Most weeks, I provided all the food and didn't ask for contributions. Sometimes I'd have people bring fruit or juice. People often brought things without my asking but always there was a good feast and anywhere from 6-20 of my friends to enjoy it with. In January I met and started dating Jess, and C.O.W. became a great way for her to meet my friends.
In this way a lot of my friends got to meet and connect with each other which was really cool. And when mom got sick, it was a lot of the people I'd fed all winter who stepped up to the plate to make our lives easier in whatever ways they could, which was a lot.
Today was the revival of C.O.W. It was our first one since moving into our new house. There was still a fire, though I flipped a switch to light it instead of chopping wood (which, with the weather the way it has been, was quite a relief!). It's been raining--no, pouring--all day and we weren't sure if folks would actually leave their houses to come see us...but ten people showed up which turned out to be the perfect number. It was great to see some people I've lost touch with during my year of hell, and just hang out laughing and talking about stupid names for towns--like the one in Indiana called Gnaw Bone--but pronounced gah-naw-bunny. It makes a great interjection in the middle of a conversation. Try it.
Several friends ran into my Dad this week and excitedly asked "Are you coming to brunch?" Which could have been akward since I hadn't exactly extended an invitation--not because I didn't want him there, but mainly I didn't invite any family members who I know are usually in traditional churches between ten and noon on Sundays.
To the suggestion that perhaps the name of our shindig could be considered sacrilegious, Danette replied, "No, it's SACRILICIOUS!"
I think I'll use that on next month's invitation.