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The Biddy Committee

I wish I could respond better to snarky comments. Typically I’m stunned into speechlessness in the moment and then obsess for weeks forming the perfect comeback. I dole them out with frequency – usually in my tainted heart so no one can hear them. The intestinal fortitude one needs to be honest is not a quality I possess in words spoken. I prefer my bitterness to seep out in writing.  The gems are usually extended from church ladies. In fact most don’t need to say a thing. Take for example, the Saturday vigil. The rubber necking and glares our way are actions enough to make us feel unwelcome with our two children under three years old. A zinger came my way after church one morning. There was a breakfast put on by a volunteer organization to spread the word about their services. My husband was on son duty – naturally this meant that I watched others steer my 20-month-old away from hot coffee disasters and pulling down tablecloths. I cradled my newborn daughter in the crook o

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