Last Friday, our school celebrated All Saints (a day early, we know). Each student came dressed as a saint. There were lots of St. Elizabeths of Hungary, St. Georges (one with a dragon emblazoned on his armor), St Roses of Lima, St. Ignatiuses of Loyola, a St. Paul, and a couple of St. Peters, one with a giant key.
Three of the teachers dressed as St. Gianna Molla, our fifth-grade teacher even came with her five-month-old baby as a prop. One came as Fr. Thomas Price, the Tar Heel Apostle.
What did I do? Came as Blessed Zelie Martin, St. Therese's recently-beatified mother. The hoop skirt with yards and yards of crinoline poofing up the skirt caused quite a sensation. The acolytes had their jaws on the floor and there were loud squeals of delight from the girls, "Miss Argent! Look at you!" The boys, "You look all puffed up." or "You've blowed up"
My pastor came up to the organ loft and saw me. His comment? "Who are you? St. Scarlett?"