Okay, so I’m on the phone this afternoon speaking with my cousin’s mother’s sister’s daughter -- who happens, circuitously, to be my sister -- about my father’s niece’s husband’s mother-in-law -- who is, well, my aunt -- about said aunt and her recent problems with her throat.

I mentioned to my cousin’s mother’s sister’s daughter, i.e., my sister, that I had told my father’s niece’s husband’s mother-in-law, i.e., my aunt, that she, my father’s niece’s husband’s mother-in-law, i.e., my aunt, should seek the intercession of the patron saint of throats.

Unfortunately, while speaking with my father’s niece’s husband’s mother-in-law, i.e., my aunt, I could not recall which saint was the patron of healthy throats.

In relaying this to my cousin’s mother’s sister’s daughter, i.e., my sister, she, my cousin’s mother’s sister’s daughter, i.e., my sister, interrupted me. “St. Blaise,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Oh my God, you’re right,” I responded. “How in the world did you know that?” I asked.

To which my cousin’s mother’s sister’s daughter, i.e., my sister, responded: “Don’t you remember the annual ‘blessing of the throats’ when we were in school?”

Uh . . . no. I think I missed that. We switched out of parochial schools after I finished first grade.

God, what a great culture.

[Post-publication addendum: By the way, fellow Philly blogger, Susan Madrak, of Suburban Guerrilla, having read this post, and having experienced a thoroughly Catholic education, is now staring at me as if I had a hole in my head. Susie knows, and remembers, much about the blessing of the throats. February 3, for those otherwise not clued in.]