Rehab - Another Triumph Of The Will

People often tell me, they say, "LSP, do the rehab." And I do, it goes like this. Look at your sturdy wooden cane and thank God it's not some flimsy piece of tariff-ridden aluminium rubbish that's made in China. Perhaps this cane is a badge of rank. 

Buoyed up by the positive thought, use the thing to navigate across the Compound's attractive front porch and into the waiting rig. Then drive to one of the Missions for Sunday Mass, reflecting on the weaponlike aspect of the stick at your side. Too bad it doesn't conceal a sword or a Derringer. Reverie over, use it to nav from the car park to the sacristy, where the lights are mysteriously off.

Non Illuminatio

Struck by the lack of illumination, observe your MC sitting in the dark and greet him with a sunny "Hello Dracula" while waving the stick about, Bram Stoker style. He was trying to sleep, the MC, not Mr. Stoker, because "a dog got me up at 4.00 a.m." Bless him.

Commiserate over the furry alarm clock issue, vest, pray and make your way to the back of the church for the "entrance procession," stick in hand. Use it to lean on, point it at people, practice drill movements with it, whatever, a useful prop. But Bronc Dracula has other ideas.

Bronc

"You're not using that for Mass," he says with steely cowboy resolve. You can't argue with that, so I hung the wretched thing up on a coat rack as if a testimony to a miraculous cure, and the Mass began. 

No cane, no walker, and there it was, genuflections to boot. First time I'd genuflected since I was kicked off the horse, and it felt good, a veritable triumph of the will or more precisely, modern medicine.

Thanks, MC, sometimes it doesn't hurt to be pushed and if it does, so be it. Now in fairness, my friend's been thrown off more horses than I've ridden, and I've ridden a few. You can see, perhaps, why I wasn't about to argue the stick. Respect, and don't look or be weak in front of the team, especially when one of them's a Bronc Dracula.

Leni

And that, vast international readership, is the story of that. A short tale of God, Church, Rehab and Country Life in Texas.

Ride on,

LSP

RAIN

There was a big funeral here today and you know what they say, if  you put all the pick ups end to end in this town's parade, it'd circle the earth three times over. Like the True Cross, but not as effective against the Moslem horde, Hattin excepted.

Hattin

After the funeral, one of the Missions laid on lunch, fajitas and all of that. And I tell you, it was a good result. The Cadet helped out too, after a football practice, and that was good. After three helpings of fajitas he hit the rack. Children have no stamina.

Rain!

Then, after the team surfaced from a needed re-org, it began to rain. Like silver falling from the clouds and those of you who don't know Texas in August will have to take it on trust.

OK. Military Academy

Of course the weather experts said there'd be no rain but then again, the same fools said polar bears would be drowning inside the Beltway and Donald Trump wouldn't be President.

A Bin Full Of Unicorns

The weather, you see, is a settled science and pop star legend Madonna? Children's author or Devil Witch?

Yours,

LSP