It is with heavy hearts and only the tiniest, most fleeting sense of relief that the National Catholic Register notes the passing of Simcha Fisher, prominent Catholic blogress. She was not as sturdy as she looked. It was her children who finally finished her off on this two thousand fourteenth first of April of Our Lord. 

The Fisher family prided itself on its sense of fun and lightheartedness. But not before coffee. And thus it was that Fisher, having cleaned ketchup off the toilet seat, peanut butter off the milk jug handle, food coloring out of the sugar bowl, and some kind of humorous brown goo off the walls, having removed all the dog food and toothpaste sandwiches from the lunch of the kindergartner, and having been sprayed not once, not twice, but three times with the old tape-on-the-sprayer trick, looked at the clock, realized that all this had happened before it was even seven A.M., and died. She just died. And she was angry when she went.

Fisher will be remembered by the members of her parish, where she was well known for her strong emotional response to so many of the hymns performed.  At her putative request, "All I Ask if You is Forever to Remember Me as Loving You" will be played at her funeral Mass.

"Oh, yeah, she really liked that one, I could tell," said the folk band leader, rubbing his banjo-callused hands in anticipation. "We want to send her spirit forth with a bang and an alle-alle-alleuia. That'll show her."

Fisher had strong ties to her children's school, where her influence on her children's sense of intellectual curiosity was evident. More than once, school policy was changed specifically to anticipate the attendance of Fisher children in the future -- most notably, an amendment to the dress code (students must wear underwear).  A bench will be erected in her memory, made out of some of the trees she backed over with her van. 

Her close neighbors were equally dismayed to hear of her passing. "Who?" said Eunice Catarrh, 89, who lived next to the Fisher for seven years. "Oh, that hippy lady who was always yelling at the dog? With all the mattresses in the yard? Yeah, I didn't think she would last. Too uptight." 

Her grieving husband, Damien, notes with sad irony that, at age 39, she was a mere fifty years away from retirement. "I honestly don't know how we are going to get along without her," Fisher said. "Who else would do laundry for eleven people without a word of complaint?"

"Come to think of it," he added, "She didn't really do the laundry, either, except for two or three loads a day. I guess that's why I have no clean socks.  Well, I guess I better buy some new socks."

In lieu of flowers, the Fisher estate requests that well-wishers contribute vengeance-pranking ideas in the comment box, preferably before school gets out this afternoon.