Monday about Sunday &c

 

The mind plays tricks doesn't it: I thought I'd written and published a blog post early this morning, but turns out not so. Maybe it's not the mind, maybe it's the huge "90" balloons floating in the far corner of the living room like the yellow light of a traffic signal, cautioning me that Time is all I've got, nomesane? 

Which is why I usually capitalize Time. 

Time is all you have too, but you're too young to put much thought into that yet. 

Yesterday at church was enormous fun that entirely overrode my lifelong reticence and reluctance to be cast in the center and talked about. As I said, now nobody needs to speak at my funeral. For the first Time ever, we were the last people to leave an event, and as we walked past the kitchen counter on our way to the car, I noticed that there was lots of fried fish leftover, so I filled a go-box. Fried fish for Sunday dinner, for Sunday supper, for Monday breakfast. 

Monday morning early I assembled the handout for next Sunday's fourth session on "Mark" and his gospel. Then the breakfast treat of fried fish, then shower and dress, and off we went. 

Sam's for a flu shot and a covid shot. 

Church office and library to retrieve some things left there for yesterday's festivities and yesterday's Bible class: photographs and several books that I can't take a chance on somebody assuming they're in the library for checkout.

Tyndall AFB exchange and commissary for various purchases including a bottle of malt vinegar to enjoy with my Monday lunch of fried fish. 

Your old Uncle Bubba is a fried fish person at heart. Any fish fried, as yesterday. Mullet either fried, or oven baked as we do here at 7H (we don't fry anything except eggs over medium and that really doesn't count, it's not deep fried); red snapper either oven baked as mama did all our growing up years, or grilled as my favorite at Captain Anderson's - - although the last Time we ate down the street at Hunt's Oyster Bar they served me a whole fried red snapper that was moist, scrumptious, and beyond perfection (I'm not sure I'd order it again, because what they served me that day can't be duplicated).

Anyway, obviously, lunch today, which we call noon dinner like in the old Time, was fried fish from Sunday at church, with malt vinegar. English fish and chips sort of mini-feast. 

++++++++

So many people did so many kind and loving things for us yesterday, I was blown away. If you missed it, tough tootsie rolls, friend, because besides eating my slice of coconut cake there, I brought your slice home. And numerous other desserts, puddings. "Pudding" our English relatives call dessert. "Pudding" to us is specific dessert, but "pudding" to the English is general instead of saying "dessert" and, could be anything including cake, ice cream, a biscuit that we'd call a cookie, a candy bar. 

++++++

But I travel mentally. For supper this evening I had two slices of pumpernickel bread spread thick with mayonnaise und deutscher Senf and piled high with the last of the pastrami and two slices of Swiss cheese. From the deli, the pastrami was a test: it was good but pastrami is not on my heart of hearts list, and if I want it again I'll be particular enough to order it from either New York or Ann Arbor.

Tomorrow is Tuesday, September 30 and the final day of my 90th birthday celebration month. Two bucket list items to carry over into October, one a maybe the other a that's-fer-sure-that's-fer-dang-sure. Order lobster meat from a company in Maine that I've used before and excellent even though getting it delivered here has been a nightmare everyTime involving texts that they couldn't get in the gate, and phone calls (did you ever try to call UPS or FedEx? good luck), drives out to the carrier's terminal in Lynn Haven; and raw oysters on the half shell and fried mullet at Gene's Oyster Bar in Millville. IDK, maybe a fried soft-shell-crab too. 

++++++++

Still wandering mentally. For class next Sunday I have "Mark" the anonymous man and seven chapters of his writing that we call "the Gospel according to Mark" - - Chapters 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, and 16. We won't get through more than half of it, meaning my original intent of four sessions will become five and maybe six. Those attending who wanted to be included in the email info about it that I send out during the week listed their email addresses. There's no security issue, as I send everything out "bcc" so the names and addresses are kept private. If any of my +Time readers want to be included, just send me your email address, maybe in comments below. 

"Mark" is a fun book to read and sort of "analyze" as you go along. There are things to watch for in order to get the full picture of what "Mark" is trying to do, his evangelical effort, agenda, and literary devices. It might have been interesting to get together with "Mark" at a local pub and get him to clarify some things over a pint of beer. Death of Socrates sort of thing, where after being condemned to death Socrates said basically that death would be one of two things: either eternal oblivion, or a heaven where he could have conversations with the greatest minds of the ages; and either one would be preferable to living with these fools. If you could catch "Mark" holding forth at his pub, that'd be great, eh? 

T90