The bane of my existence was a fiercely Catholic(and slightly alcoholic) Irish grandmother who had me praying the Rosary every hour. "Come here to me ya heathen bugger!'' she'd yell. Oh man...
Oh Yeah...
My Irish Grandmother was very “progressive” about church.
If you were sick, and it was Friday, you would still get Chicken Soup.
Said Nana; “Nothing that goes in yer stomach can hurt yer soul!”