The jesuitical Mojo has declared a Lenten sacrifice: for 40 days he will forgo gaming on his Nintendo DS.

As with all things Mojo, the sacrifice comes with an out: all the good games are on the Wii. Giving up handheld gaming leaves a loophole large enough for Mario to drive his Kart through.

But last night brought a further Motion for Relief: Mojo wanted to play a GameBoy game, and wanted to do it without breaking his faux Lenten resolution. At first, I misunderstood his request:

"Well, it hardly seems consistent with giving up handheld gaming on the DS to then just do all your handheld gaming on the GameBoy. But since it is a different platform, I guess you'd still be within your commitment."

But I had it wrong. He wanted to plug the GameBoy game card into the DS and play it that way. (Apparently the platform is backward-compatible.) The rabbinical court of Mastandrea promptly ruled this technique out of bounds.

Got a pot full of beef shanks and meatballs simmering in the stovetop. Berea-Rose is filled with a heavenly aroma -- perfect for a sacred Sunday morning (even one that has Mojo sitting in a living room corner furiously thumbing the controls of his GameBoy).

I like to keep track of things that don't matter. It keeps my mind blissfully unburdened by thoughts and cares that might otherwise have real consequence.

And so I declare that I just now used our basement shower-stall for the second time ever. And it was a good shower. I'm not sure what I was thinking when we first moved in, but after the moving van dumped out all our belongings back in May 2006 I happily dropped into place a bar of soap and a half-empty bottle of shampoo. What, did I think I'd be washing down there several times a week? Who knows.

Even today I didn't wake up planning to shower down there. In fact, I skipped the shower altogether for the day's first trip to Giant Beagle. Unshaven and unwashed I walked the aisles, loaded up on the grocery, and frightened the locals. Got back and did a few things out in the garage -- collapsing boxes (Space Ghost says it's the responsible thing to do) and changing the rear wiper on the Subaru.

(Oh, and that too is a first -- friggin car has been scraping by on the same stripped and exhausted rear wiper since we drove it off the lot back in 2006.)

Anyway, I shaved at the tiny sink in the bathroom off the kitchen (another first!) because Alane was cleaning the upstairs bathroom. Then I went up and got ready to shower. Then Alane saw me. From behind her caustic washrag she shot me the hairy eyeball -- as if I was about to undo all her work.

"I'm taking a shower, not a colonic."

It didn't matter, so I went to the basement. And what a treat: it's a totally no-frills stall with an excellent pre-Gore showerhead and that half-full bottle of Clairol Herbal Essences clarifying shampoo (with palm oil!) that I must've first opened back in 2005. I cranked up the hot water and luxuriated. Great experience. The bare-bulb lighting created a perffect underground ambiance and the stall's industrial utilitarianism was perfect for blasting the industrial stink off my no-frills body.

And now what remains of my hair smells as it did back in 2005.

Still got a few things to do today. Been a busy week around here. I've taken a new tack in waking the boys for school each morning -- I blast the rather-strong speakers on my computer in the room across the hall and play something ridiculous. Yesterday it was this:

A ton of snow fell on Berea-Rose yesterday. Da Chimpz were still out there today playing in the tunnels they burrowed through the mighty banks.

Later, with Mojo at the mall with his grandma, Cookie and I had vicious snowball fight in the driveway. I hate to say it but I think he won -- effectively landing a giant snow-form right onto the flat of my face, where it exploded in a cloud of tiny ice crystals. I became a Bumble.

Got a nice fire going downstairs. Alane just turned the game on so maybe I'll watch some of it. Or not -- I just don't have the patience.

And what the hell are these Duraflame logs that purport to burn in "festive" colors? The flame is just sort of bluish. Until you throw in some regular wood logs, like I just did (and like you're not supposed to). Then they burn very blue. And big. Eh, better than that stack of newspapers I immolated the other night. Made the house stink like the apartment buildings on the corner of 38th Street. Glad that's over.

I've been in a mischievous mood this week, so I got out my ancient Dr. Demento audio. Now Da Chimpz are familiar with the classics -- yesterday I rousted them from bed by blasting Frank Zappa singing "watch out where the huskies go, don't you eat that yellow snow." Then we went downstairs for breakfast (not St. Alfonzo's pancakes; I did not steal the margarine).

We also found this online. And we are struck by its genius. Spatula.



Oh, and there's also this guy. Genius? You be the judge.