Matthew Shepard

26 Oct

Matthew Shepard was laid to rest today at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC. His ashes were interred in the crypt, twenty years after his death. He is the first of a national figure since Hellen Keller in 1968 to be buried there.

I have never been more proud of my church for their willingness to embrace the outsider and marginalized.  Mr. Shepard was one of that rare breed, a cradle Episcopalian. He served as an acolyte in his home church, and where he found warmth and welcome.  The service was lead by V. Eugene Robinson, our first openly gay bishop. I have to admit Bishop Robinson’s consecration was not met with universal approval (our own rector pitched a most un-Christian fit) but we’ve come a long way, and maybe starting at the top was better than trying to sneak up on this business.

The parish The Squire and I attend refers to itself as “A bridge to the future, anchored in the past”. That might be a good motto for the Episcopal church in general.





21 Oct

Yesterday was our church’s second annual Fall Festival, and a good time was had by all. Everything was bigger this year – more vendors, more visitors, and more reenactors.cannon

The festival was opened – and closed – with a BOOM from a pre-Civil War cannon. The reenactors who brought it said that is the oldest known anti-aircraft weapon. It was sued to shoot down an observation balloon early in the American Civil  War. Some swell, huh?

To save his poor feet, The Squire did tours/explanations of the artifacts in the narthex and the interior of the church. I walked miles doing the outside, showing the locations of High Street, Low Street, and points in between. I thought I’d wore decent colonial-style shoes, but by the end of the first tour, my toes were aching. One of the Boy Scout mums offered me a pair of tennis shoes to wear and that was a blessing! Not exactly Colonial, but what the heck! They saved my feet!

We came home, scrambled a couple of eggs, watched the most recent showing of Young Sheldon, which The Squire had recorded Thursday night, and fell into bed. I don’t remember saying my prayers, and I woke up in the same position I had when I lay on the bed! Tired? Moi? Nah.

One of the ladies at church had her cellphone out this morning, checking posts to the parish Facebook account.  She was reading one out loud, posted by a gentleman who said the docent was well-versed in Joppatowne history.

Except she read it as donut!




Of Mice and Men

10 Oct

On one of the blogs I follow the writer tells us of the time her brother Mahlon rescued a chipmunk from a barn cat. The chipmunk raced up his pants, over his coat, and perched on his hat!

And that reminded me . . .

The Squire and I are both avid animal lovers, We will feed and/or rescue anything that comes along, from foxes to deer to racoons.  I’ll scoop up spiders and put them out. The Squire swears if I came upon a giraffe in the woods I’d tie a bow around its neck and stand it in the stairwell.

We used to keep our cat food in a large kitchen trash can, and from time to time a mouse would fall in and be unable get back out. Normally we would carry the bin out to the woodpile and tilt it over so the critter could hop out. And then run really fast so we could get back inside before the wee beastie arrived before us.

One morning there was a little fellow in the bin, and because he was so tiny and it was so cold outside, I decide to let him out inside the house. If you try to catch a mouse, they will dash wildly all over the place, but if you put your hand in and wait, they will hop on and let you close your hand over them. So, I did and the mouse did.

But when I moved my hand the silly critter ran – up the inside of my housecoat sleeve and out the collar. He sat on my shoulder and we just stared at each other for a few seconds before he leapt down and ran under the furnace.  It was hard to tell which of us was the most surprised.

A Beautiful Day

6 Oct

This is a wonderful, one minute clip filmed in Glasgow, Scotland. Full of wisdom, and very brief. It’s not a joke, it’s not religious, it’s not political. It’s just special. I think you’ll agree. It has a meaning for all of us.


I’ve Always Been a Good Cook

2 Oct

Well, maybe not exactly always.

I’ve been going through an old recipe box, sorting and tossing, and sometimes wondering why on earth I kept that.  Some of the stuff must have sounded good at the time, but not now, and even if I tried one new recipe a day, it’s take me years to make everything.

I did find one marvelous recipe, though, carefully typed on an index card, and I can’t wait to try it! I wrote this before I was ten, which may explain a lot!

Cinnamon Cake

1 egg

3 cups dough

2 cup cinnamon

1/2 cup raisins

1 tabl e poon of butter                         1 cup water

Cook eggs as do in Yummy Eggs. Melt butter in pan until water. Mix dough and water with cinnamon. Then poor in raisins. And cook at 355.

Yummy Eggs was a recipe we got from the old Jack and Jill magazine. All I remember is that you fixed it in a double boiler – and it was really, really good.

I must have been dreadfully fond of cinnamon!

Is this a Good Idea?

1 Oct

Big MacThis is why doctors check ten year old children for cholesterol and high blood pressure.


The Bane of My Existence

25 Sep

Ants!  I hate ants! I feel about ants the way The Squire feels about spiders!

Every time it rains, we get ants in our bathroom. Not just one or two, but great hoards of them, to the point that it looks as if somebody spilled coffee grounds on the counter.  We had a cold snap this week (When it’s been in the upper 80s and low 90s, 62 is a cold snap.) and it’s raining to boot, so they are everywhere. One the counter, in the sink, on the floor, on the toilet seat, for the love of Mike!

These are supposed to be wild critters, at home in the woods and wilderness. There’s no  place to get dry and warm in the wild.  Just be brave out there and buck up. But noooo!

We obviously have the wimpiest ants in the state.