When I was trying to come up with a title for this picture, I was reminded of the story of Dives and Lazurus in Luke 16.
Lazurus was a beggar who lay at the gate of Dives mansion. Every day Dives stepped over that poor man and never even gave him a crumb. When Lazarus died, he was “carried to the bosom of Abraham” but when Dives died, he went to Hell, From the depths he could see Lazurus and Abraham afar off and asked for mercy.
He was told, “There is a great gulf between us, and no one can cross from one side to the other. You had everything you wanted when you were alive, and Lazurus had nothing. You had Moses and the prophets to tell you how to live, and you ignored them.”
Essentially, you chose your path, and this is where it took you.
A few days ago, I overheard a gal telling some of her friends about her adventures making pesto.
The recipe is a simple one, garlic, olive oil, pine nuts, fresh parmesan cheese, and basil.
FRESH basil! This poor thing didn’t know there was such a thing as fresh basil and had managed to purchase three full cups of dried basil, which must have cost a fortune, and made the world’s worst concoction. Her husband said it tasted the way a fart smelled.
The Episcopal Bishop of Washington offered a prayer on behalf of the president, asking him to be merciful to members of the LBTGQ community.
He posted on Truth Social (which is neither) that she had insulted him, and demanded an apology. She is also a horrible person, a trump-hater and a Democrat.
Which, coming from him, are compliments in my book.
Our rector had to be out of state yesterday, so he asked me last week if I’d be willing to do the traditional service of Lessons and Carols on the 29th – yesterday. “The musician has the list of hymns so you’re all set.”
No problem.
The Squire and I got to church a little early so I could get robed, but there was no sign of the musician. We waited. And waited. And waited. At nearly quarter past the hour, The Squire dragged out his cell phone and called. We woke him up.
I stumbled through Morning Prayer – thank God and Thomas Cranmer for the Book of Common Prayer – and made my apologies to the members of the congregation.
My standard answer whenever someone asks me how I’m doing is, “Not bad for an old lady.” Some people nod and agree with me, others tell me I’m not old, and others ask me how old I actually am. When I say I’m 82 I’ve been told I don’t look my age often enough I’m beginning to believe my own publicity.
We had a service of Lessons and Carols today at Resurrection, with a guest organist whom I remembered from the last time he played for us – Easter, I think. We’d had a version of the above conversation, and I had told him my skin care routine. Cold cream twice, and wash with Noxzema.
When I shook his hand and told him it was good to see him again, he took a moment to place me, and then his face lit up. “I remember you! You’re the really old lady!”
Thanks a heap, kiddo, but I guess to a 25-year-old – if that – I guess somebody my age isreally old.
I believe it was Shakespeare who said troubles never come as a single spy, but as hoards.
Where do I start? First, Comcast told us we could not keep our old phone number, then they relented, but more came back once more and said Absolutely not. So – we contacted Vonage, which was more or less our plan from the beginning. Except that Comcast has so far refused to release our number so Vonage can pick it up. The Squire went to the Comcast office on Thursday to pound on a couple of desks. The sweet young thing to whom he spoke suggested that we could change the phone number on one of our cell phones to the old landline number, which went over about as well as one could expect. She was even less help with getting this mess cleared up.
After totaling the Kia, the Squire did find an SUV which he liked very much and picked it up about 10 days ago. Today, while we were getting gas, he cut a corner too close – the new car is longer than the old one – and scraped the rear fender on the passenger side, leaving a nasty red gash. I thought he was going to cry, and I can’t say I blame him.
Ever since we moved, my computer will not allow me to access links. I can get to my email, but if somebody sends me a link to a site, I can’t go there. I need to change the address on my driver’s license, and I can’t get to the DMV site. Today, my computer decided I didn’t need my email, either, so now I have a very large anchor on my side of the desk. Then, The Squire’s computer decided to join his sibling’s game, so if I owe anybody a letter, that’s where we stand with things. Actually, I’m writing this post on the off chance it will actually be posted.
The Squire needs surgery and given his age that required a visit to a cardiologist, which was taken care of a few weeks ago. Yesterday he got a phone call from the surgeon’s office saying they have not received the report. Of course, by the time he got the message, the cardiologist’s office was closed, so that’s on hold.
Baltimore Gas and Eclectic Company has a buy-back program, where they take old refrigerators, freezers, and window a/c units, as long as they are in working condition, and send you a check for them. The going rate is $50 for fridges and freezers and $25 for each a/c. The guys showed up on Tuesday, but their work order only showed the kitchen fridge. I was more than a little upset, but there’s no point in fussing with the driver and his crew, but even they admitted it wasn’t very likely that I would have only mentioned one item when I had five. Another reschedule, and another day waiting at the house for somebody to show up.
If you read in the paper about some little old lady running amok in Joppa, it’s probably me.
thisendoftheswamp 