Two things, and Three
Two things I know, Three if I can remember them.
First, that Quentin Compson is a young man of acute Southern gentlemanliness and obedience, to answer the summons and with infinite patience listen respectfully with nothing but Yessum and No'me to the ceaseless, bitter rattle of Miss Rosa Coldfield.
Second, that the small ship drifting at anchor overnight across from 7H just off Davis Point is OSV, an offshore support vessel, perhaps built (unlike cars, which are manufactured, ships are built) at Eastern Shipbuilding and waiting in the thick, white morning haze for a berth, but IDK.
Third, that 78F 93% and no air movement but from the tall fan in the corner to the left of me is tolerable but not the nice cool fall morning I hope to enjoy before the month is out.
There are things Four, Five and Six as well, including disgust beyond revulsion at what has devolved, degenerated into, and now manifests as hare-and-butt-brained patriarchalism of USA Today, not the paper but the nation; but Three will suffice for the moment, because +Time is not meant to be a political blog except on occasion when I get so sick at stomach at my country that I cannot hold back. Don't read the gardenia alphabet news, Uncle Bubba.
Four anyway, except for slight cataracts that require only a brighter light but no surgery, mine eyes have seen the glory and changed little to none in my twenty years of retirement from parish ministry and living at home in Panama City. No prescription, no eyeglasses required for driving and, instead of "investing" a small fortune in eyeglasses from their shop, keep on keeping on with reading glasses from Target and the BX, different strengths for different distances, 3.0 for continuing with Absalom, Absalom!, 2.5 or 2.25 for computer screen and "The Lord be with you. ... Lift up your hearts ... " that gives me such fits of a Sunday morning. Dr.E once said, "You might just have to memorize all that stuff."
Right, but the problem with holding it in memory is that two sentences in, the mind drifts off to "hey, man! you don't need the alphabet Altar missal, just go from memory," at which, upon which wandering, mind and memory go to the beach for the day and I halt, pause, and try to find where I should have been in the book while forcing self not to underbreath audibly a foul epithet.
POD
- Go to the tax office, renew driver license.
- Make motel reservation for Thursday RON in Pensacola.
- Review RSL readings for Wednesday evening and SS next Sunday morning.
- Write my sister an e-note, answering her question in the affirmative.
- Furo-Sixty to lose weight in fat feet so shoes fit.
Psalm for Sunday, good one:
Posting too late but hail, hail, WTH
T
Psalm 124
Nisi quia Dominus
1 If the Lord had not been on our side, *
let Israel now say;
let Israel now say;
2 If the Lord had not been on our side, *
when enemies rose up against us;
when enemies rose up against us;
3 Then would they have swallowed us up alive *
in their fierce anger toward us;
in their fierce anger toward us;
4 Then would the waters have overwhelmed us *
and the torrent gone over us;
and the torrent gone over us;
5 Then would the raging waters *
have gone right over us.
have gone right over us.
6 Blessed be the Lord! *
he has not given us over to be a prey for their teeth.
he has not given us over to be a prey for their teeth.
7 We have escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowler; *
the snare is broken, and we have escaped.
the snare is broken, and we have escaped.
8 Our help is in the Name of the Lord, *
the maker of heaven and earth.
the maker of heaven and earth.
Posting too late but hail, hail, WTH
T