Thursday

Good morning, and there's not going to be a blogpost today. Rising late, after five o'clock, there was the coffee, hot and black, along with what I call "sermonizing" to get a leg up on Sunday morning. 

We don't preach these things extemporaneous, you know, there's a lot of pain involved. Furthermore, my memories include an Easter Sunrise service with lots of folks and all the members of the Apalachicola Ministers Association out on the end of the pier at LaFayette Park, waiting for the sun to peek over the horizon the other side of Apalachicola Bay. That year, our designated preacher for the service was one of the Pentecostal pastors: two or three minutes into his sermon he stopped, a Time gap passed, and he said, embarrassed, "folks, pray for me, because the Holy Spirit has left me". So, no, get it together ahead of Time.

The general guideline offered at my seminary was that a sermon should take about eighteen hours preparation. But the idea is to not feel bad about what you've said after you've said it. Once in a decade or two I feel proud (yes) of my sermon, but my goal is to avoid feeling embarrassed afterward about my "performance", when walking from the pulpit back to my chair.

So, what are the Propers about for this coming Sunday? the theme seems to be Love. We'll see what happens.

Yesterday Linda and I arrived at Hunt's first, before the eleven o'clock opening, and waited as the crowd gathered, which it always does. I wanted a certain table, all the way down to the left, the corner window table, and we got that. I like it because there's no traffic and little noise. Oysters of course, raw on the half-shell is as good as life offers a Bay County native. Linda asked, and the waiter said they were from Alabama. Large and evidently farmed, judging by the deep-cup, tissue-thin shells all alike. Then our dinner, which this is the second time we've had it, new on Hunt's menu since the change in ownership. The Abrams who own Tarpon Dock Seafood now also own Hunt's Oyster Bar, and if you think you can get fresher seafood anywhere else under the sun, why, buddy boy, think again.

My new dinner choice at Hunt's is not the fried oysters (I order those to take out and bring home for dinner tomorrow, which is today), but the grilled whole red snapper. That little white cup is warm lemon butter. Two sides? fried okra and the coleslaw. 

Ice water to drink. Something is happening to my physiological makeup that causes me to "feel it" after even one small beer, so none of that anymore except at home after church on Sundays. 

As I think I've said before, the grilled whole red snapper is also my long-years favorite at Captain Anderson's, and those that I've had there have been noticeably bigger fish than at Hunt's, and more elegantly presented, but Captain A's doesn't open until four o'clock, and these days we would be driving home after dark, which we've ruled out anymore. I don't know about Uber, 've never tried Uber, and noontime at Hunt's, which I can see from where I'm sitting right now, is fine as frog's hair.

RSF&PTL

T