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Showing posts from November, 2025

X-Mas is a comin'

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Below, scroll down, is a NYT column that catches me this morning at 5:21 and still pitch black dark outside. I’m afraid there are children who board the school bus in the predawn and are delivered home after dark, what misery. But today’s Saturday, isn’t it, a reprieve.  Looking across the room I see the sofa we bought at a Southern California furniture store that fall 1969 just before my ship deployed for WestPac and whatever contribution we made to the Vietnam War. The elegant new sofa in our living room on the moss green carpet of our house in Chula Vista, San Diego. The house was our first purchase, brand new, the builder had done a good job, except that the outside walls were not insulated, so the hot western wall could make our bedroom unbearably hot on summer and fall afternoons. No air conditioning either, didn’t need it most of the year. That was Southern California sixty years ago. One evening - - Linda, Malinda and Joe must have been in Arizona visiting Linda’s parents -...

Life is Good

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  Life seems to be getting fuzzier somehow, and all the humor about doctor appointments for old people is coming home to roost, nomesane?  Forty years ago I came over from Apalachicola and drove my parents up to Dothan for cataract surgery, that was the start of my real awareness of it. Now, between us, we have one or two or three doctor appointments every week, we have to take the calendar everywhere because for sure another one will be scheduled before we get home and we need to avoid conflicting appointment Times.  This morning after hitting two grocery stores, Bill's and Publix, we arrived way early for a dermatologist appointment and were taken in half an hour early: clean the surgery sites, dab salve on, new bandages and come back in two weeks to have stitches removed at both sites, nose and behind the ear. Meantime, ear vacuuming, eyelid surgery, and leg veins.  Are you sure you want to live into your own nonagenarianism?! It's sort of fence-walking: On one si...

Colossians

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  Late Wednesday night, early Thursday morning, the Time is 12:03 AM and I don't often do this, but I'm up late enjoying being alive.  Life is short, and we haven't much Time. These days I spend too much of it napping because of the One Thing Rule (we can do one thing, and then we have to have a sit-down (Linda in the blue riser chair) or outright lie down (me), pull up the covers, and go to sleep, usually an hour or two, sometimes three hours.  At this, my post-midnight moment, I'm thinking about being ninety, which I never expected, so now and then I do something, like now, to be in life itself, enjoyment of, and  gratitude for,   shehechehyanu, who gives us life - - and sustains us, and has brought us to this Time, blessed are You. ++++++ Looking at the Colossians reading for the upcoming Sunday: it's loaded with heavy theology, and it doesn't matter, but like many, I cannot see Paul having written this. Greek readers can dig into Colossians and report back s...

cost what it will

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Fr Richard's meditation for this morning (scroll down) is, for me, one of the best. For one, ironically yea unto humorously, it confirms my own experience of life as priest, pastor, preacher, teacher. For two, it speaks my mind to everyone I've known and know who has reacted negatively to my efforts to convey Truth as I've explored and found Truth that strains boundaries beyond and outside my own tradition.  Maybe for three, it parallels my "life verse" picked up in that proverb inscribed in the lintel over the library door at the Episcopal theological seminary I attended, SEEK THE TRUTH, COME WHENCE IT MAY, COST WHAT IT WILL; and the yardstick-slamming shout of Bill Weeks, my most competent high school teacher, "DON'T BE A SHEEP, BE A GOAT."   The integrity of one's search for Truth rests entirely in whether one is searching with an open mind or fooling oneself and simply, obtusely "proof-texting." It's called "apologetics,...

Tuesday: not what it seems

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My +Time blogposts are linked here on Facebook for a day or two then the link is moved to archive. But for anyone who wants to read later, the blogposts themselves are still on my +Time blogpost all the way back to Cleveland Clinic fifteen years ago when Jeremy created the blogpost for me to log my progress through the heart adventure. It's named +Time mindful of soccer rules that seem indefinite about how long a game will go, referee discretion like Life Itself, providing for adding Stoppage Time after regulation time to make up for various delays. +Time is my Stoppage Time added for divine discretion after my Time at Cleveland Clinic.  What I set out to say before typically wandering off into some netherworld is that if anyone wants to read a blogpost they missed, or re-read, it's still and always online at plusmoretime.blogspot.com  but it's no longer "in your face" on my Facebook page.  Why would I move the links to archive? For one, because in years of vocati...

Monday after Sunday

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5  And  God  saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.  6  And it repented the  Lord  that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.  7  And the  Lord  said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them. (Genesis 6:5f, KJV)   Russian drones being shot down over Poland, a "sabotage" explosion to destroy a Polish rail line used to transport supplies to Ukraine. Putin bound to nothing but his own will for former Soviet territories, and testing NATO resolve. It's like fires or heavy rains that weaken underlying land in California, bringing on landslides. The northern hemisphere is sliding again into major war, and a war with Russia and the US as enemies t...

When Heaven Was at the Corner of East Grand Boulevard and Concord Avenue

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  A fact of my life is that I lived in the wrong day and age - - too late for my enthusiasms. Were I to have planned it myself I'd have been, like Lamont Cranston, a wealthy young man about town in the early 1930s. In my early middle-age I'd have downsized modestly in the early 1940s so as not to present myself ostentatiously during that Time of the Great Depression, to a car such as this 1941 Packard One-Twenty sedan. Time, after my grandfathers' prime, When long-distance travel here in America was by the trains that I remember and loved, specifically the Pullman Palace Cars that were air-conditioned.  And also When, days that I wanted to go to Pensacola to visit my brother, I could walk down to the train depot that was here in St Andrews and board for the ride instead of driving. Well, I got part of that, didn't I -> in my day, if you wanted to go to Dothan or Atlanta, you could ride up on the Bay Line; did it more than once. ... those were the days, my friend, I t...

Friday the 14th

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Barbara Crafton writes well. Sean of the South writes well. I know good writing, and I do not write well, but then I only started out writing to post a daily report of my health adventure, mid-October 2010, and it devolved from there, somewhat chronicling my journey from age 75 to age 90.  Right then, what do I do well? Well, eat. Right now for example: recently online looking for something else, IDK what, maybe wondering why my favorite lobster source went out of business, I came across a website offering lumpfish black caviar at an astonishing price. Skeptical, I researched it a bit and found it thusly legitimate that with my magic mug of hot & black this morning I'm having a sizable mound of caviar on cream cheese smeared on saltines, three of them. I grant you, it's not Osetra or Beluga caviar, but it's a decent treat anyway, and it's distracting me from this morning's scheduled trip to the dermatologist for yet more surgery on my face.  Surgery on my right ...

season: a Time to give

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their web page https://asappanamacity.org/donate Ecclesiastes 3 (KJV) 3:1 To every thing there is a season,  and a time to every purpose under the heaven: 2 a time to be born, and a time to die;  a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 3 a time to kill, and a time to heal;  a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh;  a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5 a time to cast away stones,  and a time to gather stones together;  a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6 a time to get, and a time to lose;  a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 7 a time to rend, and a time to sew;  a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8 a time to love, and a time to hate;  a time of war, and a time of peace. 9 What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth? 10 I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it. 11 He hat...

Ocean Spray cranberry juice

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  As a precaution for urinary tract health, Linda has been drinking this Ocean Spray cranberry juice product, about four ounces a day. This morning, Saturday, Nov 8, 2025, she finished the current bottle, pouring its remaining contents into her glass. Out of the bottom of the bottle, this paper-thin, rubbery object plopped into her glass. I photographed it, and the bottle it came from, and the "best by" date stamped on the bottle's lid. The experience is repulsive and quite sickening. We are switching to another brand of cranberry juice, maybe POM or Knudsen, and will never under any circumstances buy another Ocean Spray juice product.  Thursday evening, Linda's primary care physician's office phoned her to say that her lab work shows a UTI, and that they called in a prescription to Sam's Pharmacy, to be picked up and started immediately; which we did first thing yesterday, Friday morning. I am curious as to whether this strange object in her juice could have ...

what the parson found

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What do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground. Ninety is different. Not necessarily for everyone, speak for yourself, I'm speaking for me. Different from eighty-something. I'm experiencing, tasting, licking one finger and holding it up to the wind to judge whether the math is fun and good at ninety, the polls are closed but the votes are not all counted, and there's a one-hoss-shay sense about it, not so instant and total a pile of dust, but all of a sudden pieces are falling off.  Despite hearing aids, the hearing is harder, I need a trip to the audiologist. There's a right eye problem: ointment for the Time gap until surgery early December; the doctor said the cataracts too but I said No, Not At Ninety and he said I Understand. CHF only goes one way, so a new echocardiogram next Wednesday. A nose issue: dermatology surgery the end of next week.  A late afternoon in...