Some Photos from the Baptism, and an Ugh! Moment

7 Jul

 This is a shot of my nephew Brian, his wife Ruth, and their son Eric, along with her brother, Andrew, who is Timothy Martin’s godfather. Andy’s wife is Tim’s godmother, but she was working out of town.

I had to get a quick update from my brother-in-law on how Lutherans do Communion. It’s been over 45 years since I left the Missouri Synod, and even though Lutherans change at the same glacial rate as Episcopalians, things do creep along. Back in the day, the pastor gave each person a small individual cup of wine, but at this service the pastor had a chalice of wine, and the server had a tray of small cups,  a few with white grape juice, and wine in the rest. They moved along side by side, so you could partake as you wished.   When I left Missouri, there was a great hoo-rah going on about whether to continue using all personal cups or switch to a common chalice. They seem to have reached a nice compromise.  At another Lutheran church we attended, those who wanted to use individual cups had to come up at the end, which really made them obvious. This way moved much more smoothly.

After the service, I mentioned to Pastor Linthicum that our rector always compares wearing a polyester alb in the summer to preaching in a zip-lock bag.  He laughed and said it was more like being wrapped in a shower curtain, especially since there was no A/C that day.  And, of course, there’s always a spotlight over the altar, which just makes it hotter. I’ve looked in pattern books to see about making myself a cotton or linen alb to wear when I am a chalicist but even with as much sewing as I’ve done over the years, it seems to be a rather daunting task.

Many years ago, we gave each of our grandchildren a plaque with their names in English in the center, and as many alphabets as we could find around the outside.  I decided this was as good a time as any to do up a set for Brian and Ruth’s boys, and I also made one for Brian’s brother’s daughter, Brooklyn.  There is no B or R in Cherokee, so Erik became “Elik(e)” and poor Brooklyn is just “Ooklyn”. The writing on these is Cherokee, Russian, Hindi, Hebrew, Japanese, and Greek.  (Other than an S sound, all Cherokee syllables end in a vowel sound, so even Brooklyn had an uh on the end.)

The Squire is very hard of hearing, and we do not have central air conditioning, so there is always a buzzing going on in the summer. Yesterday morning, the cat was screaming outside our bedroom door, that he was going to just lay down and DIE if he didn’t get fed right now. I stumbled down stairs, took my synthroid,  fed both Eddie and Blazer, filled all the various outdoor feeders, and staggered back up to bed. I set the timer for an hour and a half, as I had an appointment with the back surgeon at 10:30, closed my eyes, and was gone.

Apparently, my getting into bed disturbed The Squire enough to get him out, which was just as well, as he had to see the dermatologist at 9:30.  He came up and woke me when he was leaving, bearing a cup of coffee and the newspaper. He said he hadn’t seen Eddie and Blazer wouldn’t eat his breakfast.  Well, Eddie had gone out after he ate, and Blazer was full of his first breakfast. (First dog I’ve ever had that didn’t eat until he fell over; he’ll eat what he wants and then quits.)

So – this afternoon when I got home I removed my contacts, washed my face, and put on my jammies, then started to work on the Bombay house some more. I dropped a small part to a lamp (still haven’t found it) and while I was crawling around on the dining room floor I noticed a largish, dark blob, which I first thought might be a pillow from the dollhouse sofa.

It was a gift from dear Eddie – the head of a mouse. Blegh!

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