Believe it or not, nuns were a big part of my upbringing.
As a born-and-raised Catholic from a long line of Catholics, nuns taught me at Sunday School.
They taught me at the Catholic elementary school I attended and at the Catholic high school just down the block from that.
When I was an altar boy, one of my tasks was (GET THEE TO A NUNNERY!) to walk to the convent just a few minutes' stroll from the church to pick up the hosts that the priest would serve at mass.
So it's accurate to say that nuns have not been nones in my life experience. Some drove me gonzo, some were great. I could never understand why they'd pick that path, but that's not for me to judge.
So here I am, decades later. Haven't gone to church regularly for all those decades. Haven't hardly stepped inside a church. Certainly haven't seen a nun or dealt with one on any level.
And what does my goofy sister do? The Garage Sale Queen, who picks up the goofiest things and then hands them out as joke Christmas presents each December?
She gives me a Nunchuck toy for Christmas, complete with four little plastic nuns ready to be chucked (as in the photo above and, in my bad attempt at a closeup, below).
I'm pretty sure I'm not going to actually open the package and test out the Nunchucker, but instead will display it somewhere as a salute not only to nuns around the world but also to my sister.
She has not given me permission to post her picture on my blog or elsewhere on the Web, but I think I can show her from behind.
This is her hugging my daughter, I believe last year. I originally had a photo of her bending down, showing her butt. However, given the overwhelming sentiment that I would soon die at her hand, I have removed it.