Alexander the Lesser
A sunshiny morning returns to Texas. It is a bit too soggy to be comfortable on the stoop or back deck, and the high humidity has the windows fogged up, so we content ourselves with the gorgeous yellows, golds and green hues of light streaming in.
I am not too certain what is on the docket today. For sure, I have to gas up and prepare Bucephalus for a dog run tomorrow. 40 minutes down to Round Rock, Texas, an hour and 15 minutes back up to Waco, Texas, and another 50 minutes back home. With the stops, it should be around two and a half hours. Not bad, and it has become the standard run for me.
I might add a trip to the feed store to my gas run today. They have some really good wasp spray, and some red wasps have taken up residence in my hose reel. Not that I have needed the hose for awhile, but I suspect that things will soon enough dry out, and I’ll return to mowing and watering. I love the smell of feed stores. It takes me back to my early years in the remote reaches of the Sangre-de-Christo Mountains in New Mexico.
My new WiFi internet provider left a message on the recorder this morning with an “emergency” call. I was curious as to what kind of emergency an internet provider could have other than un-throttled access, so when my eyes were finally opened fully, I called them. Seems that Snook dated their monthly cheque “2013” instead of “2015” and they need a new one. Good, I guess. I was thinking they had to go to the hospital or something.
A tragedy occurred in our little village because of the rains. A young boy was idly watching the raging water in a drainage canal and was sucked into a flooded culvert. What a ghastly way to end your life. That was a true emergency, but alas, a heartbreaking one.
And our search for a spiritual home continues. The hour commute to the latest one became such a burden. I am not certain how I am going to solve that one unless I am willing to bend a little in my theology.
So … the cup needs refilling. The sun climbs another 15° in the summer sky. The mist burns off the windowpanes, and the day moves inexorably into late morning.
 Alexander the Great’s favorite horse, from Greek Boukephalos, literally “Ox-head,” from bous “ox” (see cow (n.)) + kephale “head” (see cephalo- ). Men called [him] Bucephalus … of the marke or brand of a buls head,which was imprinted vpon his shoulder. [Pliny, I.220, tr. Holland,1601]
 Bucepalus, or sometimes Blue Bucephalus: Bucephalus is a venerable ten-year-old Dodge Grand Caravan, with two kennels in the back, and a barrier behind the driver’s seat. I add kennels or take them out as needed. At 20/22 mpg, she is quite the gas hog, but a comfortable one.
One thought on “Alexander the Lesser”
June 18, 2015 at 11:04 am
Mornin’ I hope you find a congregation that feels like home.