A Beautiful Day
10:30 am on a Sunday morning, yet it's shaping up to be a beautiful day.
WordGirl and I went to Mass at 8. We hem and haw sometimes about going, especially on mornings after WG's BFF hangs out with us until 10:30 the night before watching "Freaks and Geeks". But we drag ourselves out of bed, get some breakfast (we're not Catholics yet, so the fasting before receiving communion doesn't apply as we're not receiving communion), shower, dress, and head to church.
It was already in the high 80s when we stepped out the door at 7:30. I put Mendelssohn's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" on the iPod (the braying part always makes me laugh)and we rolled on to the cathedral.
Mass was the usual riotous occasion, with WG's favorite babies putting on the usual show. One of the great things about attending a Catholic church has been the fact that children aren't shunted off somewhere; they're a constant reminder of what this life is all about, and as such they're patiently indulged, even when they turn around and make silly faces at the Sisters of Charity behind them.
The homily this morning touched on the Book of Job and Ray Charles. No, really.
Ray Charles' mother told him that there would be things in life he could not do the way sighted people do because he was blind---he'd just have to find the other way to do them.
Likewise, Job found faith much easier to maintain with prosperity---let's face it: it's easier to believe God smiles upon us when we're obviously blessed; much harder to do so when we experience nothing but tribulations. Job had to find another way to preserve his faith beyond simple justice ("I do as you want me to do and you bless me for doing so").
Whether you're a kid in the pew not quite sure while you have to sit, kneel, stand, and bow at odd intervals, or a poor blind black child in the segregated South, or a once-prosperous man now blighted, we can all relate to that: as Heinlein put it, "There Ain't No Justice".
When we got home, WG bounded off for the grocery store and I took up the yoke of my Briggs & Stratton Grass Slaughterer. By then, temperatures were in 90s already---there ain't no justice.
I sweated my way through the lawn and promptly deposited several bags of trimmings on the curb where She Who Is the Overlord of the Suburban Landscape could see and approve.
Upon arriving back within the confines of Man's greatest accomplishment---THE INDOORS---I checked out my e-mail to find AOL had left me ill tidings: my eBay bid on a Near Mint lot of Captain America from the 60s and early 70s had been bettered!
No justice? I'll show them!
I upped my bid by $25.
Mr. Autobidder saw my $25 and raised me another 10%.
The nerve! $25 more.
And again.
And again.
Well, I guess he really wants those comics. Too rich for my blood, especially with a comic convention next week. Looks like I'll need to troll the 50-cent bins instead, and fill in the gaps lovingly, obsessively, the way we Jobs known as completists are wont to do. There ain't no justice.
But it doesn't matter, not on a day when the work is done before 11 am, and all that is left to do is some Photoshopping of Colorado pictures for the photoblog this week, watching the remainder of "The Rockford Files---Season 2", and smoking another couple of weekend stogies.
Sometimes you've just got to find the other way.
WordGirl and I went to Mass at 8. We hem and haw sometimes about going, especially on mornings after WG's BFF hangs out with us until 10:30 the night before watching "Freaks and Geeks". But we drag ourselves out of bed, get some breakfast (we're not Catholics yet, so the fasting before receiving communion doesn't apply as we're not receiving communion), shower, dress, and head to church.
It was already in the high 80s when we stepped out the door at 7:30. I put Mendelssohn's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" on the iPod (the braying part always makes me laugh)and we rolled on to the cathedral.
Mass was the usual riotous occasion, with WG's favorite babies putting on the usual show. One of the great things about attending a Catholic church has been the fact that children aren't shunted off somewhere; they're a constant reminder of what this life is all about, and as such they're patiently indulged, even when they turn around and make silly faces at the Sisters of Charity behind them.
The homily this morning touched on the Book of Job and Ray Charles. No, really.
Ray Charles' mother told him that there would be things in life he could not do the way sighted people do because he was blind---he'd just have to find the other way to do them.
Likewise, Job found faith much easier to maintain with prosperity---let's face it: it's easier to believe God smiles upon us when we're obviously blessed; much harder to do so when we experience nothing but tribulations. Job had to find another way to preserve his faith beyond simple justice ("I do as you want me to do and you bless me for doing so").
Whether you're a kid in the pew not quite sure while you have to sit, kneel, stand, and bow at odd intervals, or a poor blind black child in the segregated South, or a once-prosperous man now blighted, we can all relate to that: as Heinlein put it, "There Ain't No Justice".
When we got home, WG bounded off for the grocery store and I took up the yoke of my Briggs & Stratton Grass Slaughterer. By then, temperatures were in 90s already---there ain't no justice.
I sweated my way through the lawn and promptly deposited several bags of trimmings on the curb where She Who Is the Overlord of the Suburban Landscape could see and approve.
Upon arriving back within the confines of Man's greatest accomplishment---THE INDOORS---I checked out my e-mail to find AOL had left me ill tidings: my eBay bid on a Near Mint lot of Captain America from the 60s and early 70s had been bettered!
No justice? I'll show them!
I upped my bid by $25.
Mr. Autobidder saw my $25 and raised me another 10%.
The nerve! $25 more.
And again.
And again.
Well, I guess he really wants those comics. Too rich for my blood, especially with a comic convention next week. Looks like I'll need to troll the 50-cent bins instead, and fill in the gaps lovingly, obsessively, the way we Jobs known as completists are wont to do. There ain't no justice.
But it doesn't matter, not on a day when the work is done before 11 am, and all that is left to do is some Photoshopping of Colorado pictures for the photoblog this week, watching the remainder of "The Rockford Files---Season 2", and smoking another couple of weekend stogies.
Sometimes you've just got to find the other way.
posted by Teflon at 9:37 AM
3 comments
3 Comments:
I thought "There Aint No Justice" (TANJ) was Larry Niven's doing.
Heinlein made TANSTAAFL the official motto of the Free State of Luna.
Our homily was about God's Amazing Grace. Of course, our readings are the same- just different takes.
We now have a new priest (every few years our priests are (re?)cycled somewhere else to do God's will) and our new priest is from Tanzania. Imagine, an African priest in the Northeast Kingdom!! We love him already.
He made sure to tell us before the Rcessional song to bring our little children because the Lord revels in them. If they are noisey, if they run in the isles- no matter. We were all young once, he said and, "Let the little children come to me", Jesus said... it was a blessing to have him say that!!!
Karl-
You're absolutely right---I mixed up my scifi authors.
TANJ!
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