Today is Ash Wednesday, a time for all good Catholics to go to church and get their foreheads marked.

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Don't get me wrong - I know there is much more to it, but growing up, it really didn't mean more than getting marked on a Wednesday in February, then we can't eat meat on Fridays until Easter.

I remember trying to pick who was going to place ashes on my forehead. It had to be the small, young priest with tiny hands. He would only leave a small mark on the forehead. With my luck, I get Father Al - freshman wrestling coach with hands the size of Mack Trucks. You end up getting half of your head marked.

Due to scheduling conflicts, I will not be able to get ashes today. I am sure Father Christopher will forgive me.

Bless me father, for I have sinned...