We've had two beautiful days, too warm even for a sweater...now in the early evening the clouds have moved in, there have been a few drops of rain, the wind is picking up...the dust smells--I guess the word would be "slaked"...very refreshing.
Up early to take Number One Son and Comely Friend, archaeologists both, to the airport...we had had a very pleasant dinner last night at Big Chain Steak House, sat long over our coffee...went to Big Chain Bookstore to see whether we could find the April 28th issue of the New Yorker with the fine review article on Herodotus. Pause to reflect that it's a pleasure to eat dinner and discuss things with young people who know how to pronounce "Herodotus." (I remember a line from an old, old, old, Saturday Evening Post story, in which a person of yokelish propensities commented, "Ah knowed a feller named Otis, one time, but Ah don't think his first name was Hee-Rod...")
Hustled up the road to MH & U from the airport...got to work on the paper pile on the desk. Sent off a letter severing our relationship with our janitorial contractor. Sent off a letter establishing a relationship with a NEW janitorial contractor. Reviewed Vestry minutes. Cleared up some e-mails. Made a few phone calls.
Away downtown to celebrate the noon Eucharist at the Cathedral...with a small congregation, but a bit of conversation with folks I know.
More paperwork and reading, confabs with my Building Committee guys about possible electrical anomalies in the building (pause to twitch all over)...confabs with the Knit-Wits over what to do with all the yarn we garnered from the Rummage Sale (including a lot of old-style Phentex, phew)...confab with a colleague who comes here to do spiritual direction once a month.
And now I'm waiting to see whether anyone shows up for Bible study. If not...HOMEWARDS at a rate of knots, and some housework. I'm on my own now until early July, when the Son Unit returns from his "dig." Just me and the frowsy old cat!
Enquiries from a parishioner or two about the most recent round of "defections" to the Church of the Southern Cone. May I go on record here as stating that I have no objection whatever to senior clergy, bishops, professors of theology, etc., putting themselves under the jurisdiction of the Church of the Southern Cone, PROVIDED that they remove themselves, physically and materially, at the earliest possible date, to Patagonia its own self. And stay there.
Again, I am reminded of a long-ago conversation overheard on a train on British Rail. It was when Bernadette Devlin of fading memory was making all kinds of headlines as an MP for an Ulster riding. One of my fellow passengers OPINED that both Ms. Devlin and the Rev. Dr. Ian Paisley ("both of them, mark you, not one, OR the other, but BOTH") should be transported to the Andaman Islands...
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3 comments:
Sounds like such a lovely time with lovely people (well-raised apparently). With you on those SC defectors...like to help them if I could with a well placed boot to posterior...ah well.
the dust smells slaked...i like that.
Yeah, good point. Defect one and all, body and possessions, to that southern cone...
in the desert where I now live, I am yearning for just one day of rain so the dust can smell slaked...for the last few weeks the dust, is well, dust...and it is blowing around so thick it is obscuring the mountains....
Yeah. I don't miss snow or cold or ice or wind or tornados...but I do miss a good gentle rain now then...(well, ok, we never really had those in the Midwest either, usually it was strong storms with the threat of tornados...but in my fading memory I can pretend...)
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