Seldom but sometimes I come downstairs with a thought to blog. Sometimes, as now, I open the MacBook and start typing, wondering if what generates “publish” will expose the same IQ as the breeze that blew into my right ear and out my left ear as I walked down the driveway to get Linda’s newspaper. The paper wasn’t there, so I must look again shortly. Temperature: 76F, 96% and a delightfully stiff, wet, cool breeze coming in off the Bay notwithstanding that Weather 32401 shows Wind 2 mph. The Wind here isn’t 2 at the moment, it's at least 10+.
Anu Garg quotes Falstaff, “... the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man.” Yep, there I go, + Garg’s word this a.m. is “gird,” as in gird up your loins. Though I knew men of the Old Testament would gird up their loins, I didn’t get it until September 1949, my first time in the gymnasium dressing room as a freshman at Bay High. White T-shirt, tennis shoes and white socks, gird up the loins, red gym shorts, and go forth.
And in the New Testament we have, “Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 1:13 KJV). We are reading from First Peter the Sundays of Easter this year, but whoever framed the Lectionary skipped over the one verse that might have encouraged me.
Back out for Linda’s PCNH. Still 76F but the breeze died, and there’s lightning to the west and north. No thunder to be heard yet, but the local weather map on TV looks threatening beyond horrendous. Robert and I may not be walking this morning.