Every October, Our Lady of Peace Through Strength grammar school holds a fundraiser, It's a marathon. The kids pledge to trot around a small lake, we pledge to pay them.
Every year we are told. "And remember-- this is the only fundraiser we have!"
Then in February every kid comes home with a pile of raffle tickets. At five bucks a pop, every kid is expected to sell at least 80 tickets.
Somehow this doesn't count as a fundraiser.
Having no family for a thousand miles to unload them on, my daughter looks to me to buy them. Four hundred bucks. Best of all, I get to fill out all the stubs by hand. It takes days.
The grand prize for the raffle is a car. Now, I could certainly use a new car. The old '02 Subaru is starting to feel her age.
So last night I took pen in hand and starting filling out raffle tickets.
How do you know you're a Catholic when you're filling out 80 raffle ticket stubs? If your thoughts run this kind of course:
Tickets 1-10: Hey, what am I complaining about? I could win a car! I'd love to win a car! I can see myself pullling into the carpool line now, dazzling the other moms with my shiny new car glory!
Tickets 11-20: I probably won't win, though. I didnt' win last year. Or the year before that, or the year before that....
Tickets 21-30: Besides, I don't really need a new car yet. And think of all the people who really need one.
Tickets 31-40: Those poor people! What was I thinking? They need to win, not me... Oh, dear God, Avarice must be my middle name....
Tickets 41-50: I am a terrible person.
Tickets 51-60: My hand hurts.
Tickets 61-70: My hand really hurts. Fine, I'll offer it up for the souls in Purgatory. Who better remember what I did for them, because this is a major pain in the neck and four hundred dollars is a major chunk of change! The things I do for the Purgatorians. And what have they done for me lately? Hey guys, here's an idea-- why don't you see if you can help me win a new car?
Tickets 71-80: BECAUSE I WANT THAT CAR, DAMMIT.