When I visited my parents at Thanksgiving, my mother sent me back to the frozen tundra of Illinois with a furry little gift: a full-length beaver coat that she never had the opportunity to use very often. When she first offered, I thought of refusing but then I realized that 1.) it is "recycling" 2.) it is "natural"/organic 3.) in my climate, it is a completely practical garment 4.) the only other coats that keep me warm in a Chicago winter are DOWN-filled - which is just another form of dead creatures.

Anyway, besides being warm and comfortable, this coat is pretty fantastic-looking, perhaps a bit over-the-top, but it is now in regular rotation, whether I'm going out for dinner or to the supermarket.

I had it on when I went to pick up my weekly Host-on-the-run order at Church. I ran into none other than Father Steve, who immediatley got up from his desk chair, strolled over to me and began stroking the sleeve and cooing, "Ooooooooh!" in apparent admiration.

Yesterday, I attended a lecture and meeting for the Ministry of Care. As the attendees filled the room, it was apparent I'd have to give up the extra chair on which I had draped my woolly mammoth of a coat, so I placed it across a sofa in the hallway for the duration of the event.

As I was leaving, Father Steve was ambling down the staircase from the office and called out to me, laughing, "Oh, was that YOUR rat fur on the couch? If I knew it was yours, I would have put it on and worn it in the hall for you!"

I replied, blushing, "Rat fur?! This is no rat fur, although I am too embrassed to tell you what it is!"

He grabbed my hand, and somehow we got all entwined together as we broke into in a fit of laughter, and he confidently responded, "Oh I KNOW what it is, you don't need to tell me!"

We both turned beet red and continued giggling.

"Oh, there are sooooo many jokes, soooo many jokes," I offered, wiping away a tear.

So now you know: don't be shocked if you ever hear a priest remark to a woman, "Nice beaver."