I laughed so hard at this post on An Inch of Gray about the lost art of the kiss. I was just thinking the other day about making out, and about how long it had been since we did (make out, I mean).
As blogger Anna writes, "What I didn’t realize is that once you have sex, kissing slips from entrée status to lowly appetizer. It gets demoted from flank steak and mashed potatoes to soggy mozzarella sticks with marinara sauce. It becomes a means to an end. And I don’t know about you, but sometimes I’m just too tired, or bloated, or cranky to order an appetizer anyway."
Ha! So true! Lenten promise to savor passionate kisses and comforting good-night smooches with special appreciation? Well, ok, that wouldn't be much of a sacrifice.