The seasons seem temporal as we get older. Winter and summer seemed experientially more or less permanent fixtures when I was young. Perhaps there was less reason to gather up and treasure that first warm day in May, knowing there was plenty more where that came from...Spring has grown on me. When I was younger it seemed a pale imitation of summer, a sort of cooled over Episcopalian service compared to the majesty of summer's Tridentine rite. But now I'm less choosy. Perhaps part of my new appreciation is that when I was ten percent body fat, seventy degrees was borderline jacket weather. Now, at twenty percent body fat it feels positively balmy. And spring has many a fine 70-degree day.
* * *
I was driving out to the "sticks" Sunday, aka out to a rural area, when I happened across a tiny brick church. It was around 11:30am and they were still having their service and I'm a sucker for little country churches. I parked the car & poked my head in the window and saw maybe fifteen in attendence and a large heavyset man in a tan 3-piece suit energetically pounding on the table. I wanted to go in but decided there was no way I could do so unobtrusively. Movies can seem so contrived to me. Bingo and rural church services have the scent of the unfamiliar about them without contrivance.
* * *
Proof #371,212 that life is unfair: Steven Riddle got to sit in Sophia Loren's lap.
Proof #371,213: he was six.
* * *
Sounds like spam but it's not: ball for life. Seriously, it goes to a fabulous cause - Fr. Groeschel's Good Counsel ministry for unwed mothers.
* * *
I'm pretty sure I'm the only man in the country with a Warren Carroll volume bookmarked by an evangelical (Vineyard) women's retreat (bookmark courtesy my wife).