thisendoftheswamp

We looked for an Episcopal church this morning and found one that listed itself as Anglican. Wow! I grabbed my trusty, dusty 1928 Book of Common Prayer and shuffled off.

Well.

They met in a school, which didn’t bother me, but they used a BCP that was very, very similar to the 1979 book, and Rite II to boot. They didn’t have a proper hymnal but used a thin looseleaf sort of thing, with maybe 100 songs. There were some “real” hymns, but they included some that I would consider more suitable for a Pentecostal church. Something by Amy Grant, for instance, and a version of A Mighty Fortress that I remember from an Assembly of God service.

At coffee hour – the Other Sacrament – I asked a woman what differentiated their church from the Episcopal Church, and she told me they thought the EC was getting too liberal in what they accepted. “They just took parts of the Bible and said they didn’t believe that anymore.” I didn’t ask if she was talking about homosexuality but figured that was one sticking point. I’ve had that particular discussion with folks at St. A’s, to no avail. Well, they won’t let me run it, so it’s their loss.

The Squire decided to move one of the bird feeders, because the squirrels were cleaning it out. He put it in the middle of the garden, and placed a metal guard on both that pole, and the one next to it. As you can see, this worked perfectly.

For the squirrels.

We use disposable plastic trays from the supermarket to feed the foxes. When we take out one dish, we bring in the other, but lately the dishes have been disappearing. Obviously, the critters are carrying them off into the “back forty”. The Gas and Electric company hasn’t been mowing back there for a while, and a large fallen tree has prevented us from getting there ourselves. I’m not keen on traipsing through knee-high weeds to find a plastic tray, but it’s frustrating.

No idea why the foxes are carrying them off, but The Squire thinks maybe they are using them for shingles on their den. Whatever it is, at this rate they’ll have a service for twelve in black plastic.

If I could figure out how to shrink this picture it would help. Anyway, this is the tree that prevents The Squire from mowing the back forty. Just below the split in the tree you can see a small break in the grass; that is the path the animals have worn going back and forth. We call it the “Fox Trot”.

The dish was gone again this morning. I’m going to stop at the thrift store and see if I can snag an angel food pan. Pound a stake into the ground and drop the pan over it, and that ought to keep the little dickens from carrying it away.

Up until Saturday, we had three snapping turtles in the pond – one I call Jaws, who is simply HUGE, Little Girl, who is small and has a white shell, and a third one that I dubbed Big Boy. I have no idea the actual sex of any of them, but it’s my front yard and I make the rules.

When I went out to feed them Saturday evening, I only saw Jaws and Little Girl – until I noticed a whitish blob over near the water lilies. Somebody had chewed through Big Boy’s neck.

I have my suspicions.

This is from a cartoonist in Germany.

They forgot Maryland’s own Wunderkind – Andy Harris. How this guy ever got reelected is beyond me.

https://tinyurl.com/2awftrju

Sorry for the political outburst, but . . .

Our next-door neighbors had a party last night that went on until at least 10:30 – complete with heavy duty fireworks. Honestly, it sounded as if they were shooting off cannons up there! I finally turned off the house alarm and went out to get The Squire’s noise-cancelling headphones from the car, the ones he uses when he mows the lawn. A bit awkward to wear, but I did finally get some sleep.

OK, not everybody gets up at 6:00 on Sunday to go to church, but Yeesh!

Every week I run into Target and buy 2 boxes of 50 tampons, which I repackage and drop off at the local food back. I am, thank heavens, well past the ways of women, but I remember from my days “between husbands” that this is one of many things you couldn’t get with food stamps. This and toilet paper. Soda, candy, chips, OK, but not sanitary supplies, including soap.

Last week I didn’t feel up to going, so I asked The Squire if he’d mind grabbing the tampons for me. When he got home, I saw he had purchased a name brand, rather than Target’s own. I had to be out on Sunday, so after my meeting I went to the Target to exchange them. I joked with the young lady in Customer Service about sending a man to do a woman’s job, but I admitted I was thankful he was willing to even do this for me, as many men would rather die than go down that aisle.

Well, the reason he didn’t get the store brand is they are all out of them. In fact, it looked as if somebody has got through with a giant vacuum cleaner; the shelves were bare. I went back to the counter to tell her this and her co-worker remarked she’d heard there is a nationwide shortage of the blessed things.

“Yeesh! What next? There is a formula shortage and now this!”

“I’ll tell you what’s next. The Supreme Court . . .”

Both girls started in on that topic, full bore. Let’s just say they were not happy. After they kicked that ball around the court a couple of times, I commiserated, and allowed as how if the three of us weren’t allowed to run things, it just wasn’t going to be done properly, and took my leave.

One of the features of our new alarm system is that it can be accessed from The Squire’s phone. When we are away, we can disarm the door so somebody can come in to feed the various critters, and then lock up when they leave. This is very handy, but it does have its drawbacks.

Yesterday, The Squire was looking at surveillance footage and somehow managed to arm the system, which neither of us realized until I went outside – and the alarm went off! I dashed back inside and disarmed it, but it was loud enough that both neighbors called to ask if everything was OK.

The Squire didn’t hear a thing.