That’s how long Richard and I have been married. Twenty-one years in December.

That’s also how far we got saying a family rosary tonight, before Lillian stormed out of the room, stomped her feet all the way to her room and slammed the door. Why? Because Cliff was whipping her with the rosary he was holding, and she wanted to lead every prayer.

Which is actually admirable.

But if you have to tell her everything to say in bite-size phrases, it gets a little cumbersome for everyone else. Distraction is inevitable. We decided to quit while we were ahead. Twenty-one Hail Marys amid kicking, whipping and screaming has to count for something.

Better luck next time.