It's another day of mist and mellow fruitfulness in bucolic olde Texas. And I like that, it reminds me of strolling about in the Cairngorms, Snowdonia or 'Nam. That'd be Cheltenham, obviously. This in mind, it's good to see our ancient adversary turn from blazing, stupid hot to something else. Nice. Climate Change, bring it on.
Climatic context set, there we were in the sacristy of Mission #2 this morning, getting ready for the sacred mysteries when the Junior Warden knocked on the door.
"Come in!" I uttered, like Stentor himself, and he did. "What's up, Chief?" he was one, "Thought you might like these," he replied. I looked at the offered copies of NRA's latest MAGAzines and said, "Thank you very much." And then, turning to the Altar Party, "Gentlemen, let us pray," and we did.
An acolyte was heard to mutter, "You know you're in a country parish in Texas when..." And I fixed him with a lazerlike eye as we prepared to process, "Quite." Come and take it was left unsaid. I tell you, they're a good and faithful crew. Praise God for that.
This lifts my spirits and I hope yours too.
Spero in Deo!
LSP
2 comments:
Is fog a reward for paying a weather tax? It's not warming the globe.
Molan Labe, LSP.
Or is it a punishment for not paying the tax, LL? It's hard to tell.
#2A
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