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Fellow midwesterners will note the serious degradation in temperatures, first of the season. We're looking at highs of 65, 56, and 61, numbers of a dimension that won't allow denial of the obvious: summer ist kaputt. If it were a horse we'd shoot it. Tis disturbing, made worse by a ridiculous graphic I saw during Sunday's Bengals game: 133 days till the Superbowl. The ridiculous over-hype now begins 133 days early. That's even a longer time period than between the pre-Christmas sales and Christmas. Of course the graphic reminded me about how long 133 days are, and how that won't even get us out of the winter season. But then I remembered yesterday was the feast of the Nagasaki matyrs and how one 12-year old boy enroute to his crucifixion told someone who was crying: "Sing an 'Our Father' and die like a man." Ouch. Out of the mouths of babes.

The song goes that in Heaven there is no beer, but I'm hoping it will be sunny and doggish (link via Bill Luse).
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I happened across the Facebook page of an old friend's wife yesterday and was interested to see he's apparently resisted the Facebookian pull given he wasn't a friend on his wife's page. It's interesting to see the ol' social climber isn't hip to the new social media. Perhaps his ambition's cooled or perhaps he's simply too busy to network. (Not that networking is the only use obviously or even the primary use.) Inquiring minds wanna... There's nothing more satisfying than finding out a little piece of gossip, be it ancestor gossip (we genealogists call this 'research') or Facebook findings.
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Now it can be told!: Enjoying the sweet smell of grass cuttings on the back patio and the glow of the porch lights against the broad expanse of said patio. I'm having a pseudo-beer, O'Doul's, and am looking forward to watching Bill O'Reilly.
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Today's Godincidence: I'm reading an email from a charismatic Catholic blog-friend. She's refuting suggestions that praise of Satan occasionally comes out in tongues. I head to the bathroom with my Kindle, open up the first (free) chapter of Mother Angelica's book on Scripture, and Raymond Arroyo in the introduction mentions how her love for the Word came after she was "baptized in the Spirit".