Woe to you who long for the day of the LORD! Why do you long for the day of the LORD? That day will be darkness, not light.
Gloom and damp is upon us today as a huge wave of rain passes over most of Texas and loops into the Great Lakes area. We are reasonably protected in our humble house in the vast pampas in the central part of the state, sitting on a gentle mound in the crook of two rivers.
The puck is playing Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing on Pandora Radio’s Bluegrass Instrumentals station, and the budgie sings along with the plaintive notes of a country fiddle. Super Hubby unclogs a stoppered ceramic biffy with masterful strokes on the billows plunger and returns to his morning musings and coffee sippin. Such is the life of a domestic superhero.
The synagogue shooting has me in a very sour mood. Not so much the senseless shooting, that is pretty much a given in this divided land. But the soppy vigils and tributes surrounding it. Not to mention some [EXPLETIVE DELETED] local preacherette having the chutzpah to make a political statement with Trumps visit to the congregation. Not to mention any names, Reverend Susan Rothenberg of the Unglued Church Project. Sounds more like the Unhinged Church Project. Rev Suze she bills herself. Enough said.
I have a few indoor projects that I am going to attack today, rehang a decorative mirror that leapt off the mantle and miraculously didn’t shatter into a thousand shards on the hearth, and do a little rearranging in the studio. But first I need to charge the drill batteries, and root through the misc. hardware drawer for picture hangers.
And so goes the morning.