Post an update whenever Dad's not home to hog the scanner.
Yesterday my brother made confirmation, and must have wanted me to be there pretty badly or something. My mom doesn't usually want me around her church (which actually isn't hers anymore, so that may be part of the reason I was actually instructed to show up). I've got a reflexive habit of turning into Simon Cowell whenever there's anything resembling a choir, among other things, that must embarrass her in front of her friends. The choir was pretty terrible, probably in the running for the worst I'd heard in my lifetime, which didn't make it any better for my mom. It's usually a bad sign when your choir's trying to sing in unison and winding up in off-again-on-again five-part harmony instead.
I had been to one other confirmation before about ten years ago--it was for one of my best friends, and one of the priests taught me how to make a paper airplane, but I found a better one later.
Ten points to anyone who can spot Monty.
Afterward we all shipped out to get some Chinese. Luke and I got Peking Duck and everyone else had a free-for-all. Someone ordered a Pu Pu platter, and that came with a fire pot in the middle.