Why are there now so many books of lists of ten things we must do before we die? Why not nine, or eleven? And why should pay someone for a list of experiences he says you and I must fulfill before we shuffle off what Shakespeare is pleased to call this mortal coil? Will my life be meaningless if I don’t jump out of an airplane over Scotland, see a famous statue in a Buddhist temple in Bangladesh, eat fried snake in Singapore, bicycle through Kenya, visit some snaky island off Honduras, or flush a certain Czarist toilet in St. Petersburg?
“Coffee with Bob!” I muttered under my breath. “What was I thinking?” Bob isn’t just any guy. His bakery was my biggest competitor in town before I had to take the bakery gluten free, and also a person I’d known since I was five years old.
The twenty-fifth of December has come and gone. The radio stations have gone back to their regular programming. The Lifetime channel is no longer showing Christmas movies (though Hallmark will continue through January 2nd). Stores are taking down their Christmas displays. Christmas trees are showing up on the side of the road. It seems like Christmas is over.
I inherited the bakery about 5 years ago when my aunt passed away. I’d worked with Aunt Ginny since I was a kid. Aunt Ginny’s passion for baking fostered my love for the baking business. We have always been a family run business therefore family pride was on the line at this bake-off.
God’s heart moves at the speed of love.
He is not constrained by the passage of earthly time.
An answer to a plea that may take an eternity to you
is an eternal opening to the gates of grace for him.
Censorship is the control of public speech by a government agency; it has always existed and always will. Even the freest government cannot allow state secrets to be published. Censorship, when kept in its legal place, is good; when it is not kept in its legal place, it is bad.
The disciples had not understood the incident of the loaves though they had been there. They collected the initial bread and fish. They collected the leftover fragments. Their hearts were hardened. The very disciples who physically took part in the miracle had their hearts hardened when they saw Jesus walk on water and come into their boat?
And now two cones are moving up the coast
Maybe tomorrow they’ll move back down again
While we stack toilet paper and MREs
Perhaps the ice cream truck’s an ice cream float…
Pride and Prejudice was the first period drama novel I had ever read. It was on the summer reading list for my high school (I usually read every book on each year’s list, though only two were required). I enjoyed the book immensely. While Lizzy was practically me, I had Jane’s optimistic view of every person in my acquaintance. Kitty was understandable as well, as I, too, rarely got to do anything before my younger sibling…
The summer is here, the sun beating down
This intense heart bringing so many frowns
Time to turn that frown into a smile
We haven’t been to the beach in a while…
Let us build a statue of Sergeant Schultz
Standing bravely at the door of Baracke 2
With a bouquet of flowers in one mighty hand
And a slice of apple strudel in the other…
Such an interesting name, isn’t it? What is a Tristar fan? Isn’t TriStar that Sony company? Well, it is, but that’s not what I’m referring to. It’s actually more like tri-star, triple stars. The three stars I’m referring to are Star Wars, Star Trek, and Stargate. What, you ask? Am I mad?
Some say this is the age of the coronavirus. Perhaps it is, but more than that this is the age of incoherence. No one agrees on what the killer virus is, where it came from, masks or not masks, isolation or congregation, work or no work, treatments, dubious medicines (Macbeth IV:1), numbers of deaths, or the utility of borders (Richard II II:1)
Sergeant Schneider barked at us, his young heroes
And made us crawl the beach at Oceanside
And tho’ he made each day’s harsh training1 sting
One evening at Mass we heard sweet children sing…
“What is it?!” barked Alfric.
“Robin Goodfellow is here to see you, my Lord,” said the herald
“What does that wretched hobgoblin want?!”
“Y-you summoned him, my Lord,” said the herald.
“Fine! Send him in!”
A collection of poems by Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall
We mourn the passing of poor Joe Draper
Crushed by falling cases of toilet paper
And though poor Joe had fever, ‘flu, and gout,
It was the toilet paper that wiped him out
With Jesus and some children and a sheep
The funeral home Catholic calendar says
That today is “Civic Holiday (Canada)”
I don’t know what that is, this August day…
