We are so sacrireligious. And weird.

My family's conversation, as we pulled into the church's parking lot on Christmas morning:

Me: Um, there's no one here.
My Brother: Why are there no cars in the parking lot?
Mom: Maybe it's a 12:30 mass instead of 12:00? Go run up to the door and see if they have their hours posted.
My Brother: But even the lights are turned off.
Me: Even if it was 12:30, there'd still be a few people here by now. Like... the priest.
Dad: I think we missed it.
Mom: Um, whoops?
Me:...WHOOOOOO! Best Present Yet!
My Brother: It's a Christmas miracle!
Mom: It is so not fair that Brigdh is the only one who got her prayers granted.

And then we went home and watched The 40-Year-Old Virgin, because if there's a movie that more accurately portrays Christmas morning family togetherness, I don't know what it is.

My tradition of getting out of attending church by bizarre events, such as major ice-storms and electricity black-outs, continues unbroken.