Boy beer tastes good though. Nothing quite like a Columbus IPA on a stormy Friday night, or pretty much any night. It seems the workweek ended coterminously with the good weather.
This morning was great though, the sun high while I remembered with fondness my 24 hours in Indy and wishing, natch, I'd extended it to 48 while gluttonously reading and ordering room service, and occasionally sitting at the handsome desk and writing alluvially while looking out that city window and pretending I was on the left bank in Paris among the arrondissements.
Seem to have little use for the 1962 Missal I purchased a couple years ago. It's a handsome book that has a talismatic quality but I'm not sure how to actually use it. It doesn't have the daily Mass readings, only Sundays. The Latin is, of course, cryptic to say the least. But it's nice-looking, what with the gilt-edged pages, black leather binding and colorful, plentiful ribbons.