All In A Day

 

First up, brew strong covfeve on the Compound's annoyingly electric stovetop, must get a gas variant, so much better. Regardless, I use one of those Pedrini espresso contraptions, which offers up the right stuff, at least for me. Perhaps you have a different method and that's fine, no rule. Coffee on the go, feed the dog on the back porch, scan Telegram channels for Ost Front news, and go back in the house, your coffee's ready.

Drink that, take a morning constitutional to the Pick 'n Steal, run through your homily on the Front Porch, it should be memorized, then launch into Mass #1. This is said, oriented, Rite I 1979 BCP, Which means, all you liturgical trads, that it's seemly and in order, if not in Latin. OK, maybe that's a defect, but liturgical Tudor ain't bad either.

The sacrifice ascended, get in the rig and drive to the lake for Mass #2. This too is oriented, face the East and rising sun all you priests, who are supposed to lead the people towards the risen Christ as opposed to chairing some kind of circular Punch 'n Judy show. Well, there's room for that too, perhaps, but this Mass is sung and again, all is seemly, reverent and in order, in a country mission kind of way.

Curiously, the people won't leave their seats until all the candles have been put out on the Altar after Mass. "I say," I asked a former Provost of Baylor who attends faithfully, "Are we all Zeroastrians now?" He chuckled in a provostian kind of way, but surely it's a good thing for the congregation to sit in silent prayer for a few minutes after Mass. In fact, we're supposed to give thanks for inestimable benefit of the sacrament we've received and so reverent silence is by no means out of place. And then?

After a few sunny hellos, climb back in the rig to give Last Rites or Extreme Unction to man in ICU in Cleburne. He's a good man and a faithful, devout, catholic Christian who ran into a cactus and got spiked by a needle. The wound became infected and he, in his '80s, fell into grievous condition. You might pray for him, his name is Jack.

Sickbed seen to, head for home and, if you're me, try to take a short nap. But how can you when the times we live in are so interesting, if appalling. Question: How did Trump's security team fail to surveil the shooter's position and, if they'd done so, why did they allow the boy to loose off a few rounds? Rumors of malfeasance abound.

Your Old Buddy,

LSP