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One of my very favorite feasts and indeed very favorite days of the year.

At lunchtime I was inspired to toddle over to St. Patrick’s Church, which I was pleased to see was quite full.  Lovely building and at least respectable liturgical practices.   It seems to me that I have lit upon a good new resource.

 

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Despite your post-Halloween sugar-crashed torpor, please don’t forget the Great Literary Dog Quiz currently in progress.  I’ve had some pretty good entries so far and it looks like competition will be pretty tight!

Please submit your entry by Noon Eastern Time this coming Friday.

 

IMPORTANT UPDATE! I received the following request for a ruling:

1) Is google banned outright?

2) If not google, may I go to the library and find an appropriate print reference?  That’s not sneaky googling – it’s merely using the resources available to me.

Well, I originally had thought to bar googling outright.   But I want people to have fun, too.  So let’s do this:  Go ahead and use whatever resources you wish, if you like.  Just let me know how you go about getting your answers when you send them in.  Meanwhile, I’ll see if I can’t figure out a way to handicap for it.

Last night I had a dream that included a (mercifully brief) appearance by a black mamba.

After reading Roald Dahl’s tales of life in East Africa (noted below), I knew this was going to happen.

Brrrrr…….

Mr. FLG likes to rattle the cage over gender identity issues every now and again, so perhaps he’ll find this amusing.

After a flurry of last minute invitations, cancellations and general jockeying, the elder gels wound up going to friends’ houses to trick or treat last evening, leaving Ol’ Robbo to go round the neighborhood alone with the eight year old.

Following what seems to be a general trend (last year she was Princess Almedwhatever-it-is), the gel decided to go as Darth Vadar this year.  And tricked out in her LucasFilms©StarWars©OfficialDarthVadar©Costume and a pair of black boots borrowed from an elder sister, I may say that she actually looked pretty durn good.   As we marched up the sidewalk toward the neighbors, I coached her in saying, “Trick or treat!” in as James Earl Jones-like a voice possible.

For the most part, things went very smoothly.  At one house, however, an older lady made some remark to the effect of “oh, what a nice boy.”  “I’m a girl,” the gel replied calmly and without rancor.  However, the woman seemed so flustered at her gaff that she immediately insisted the gel help herself to two or three or four more pieces of candy.  I must say that I felt rayther sorry for the woman in her evident embarrassment.

As we trudged on to the next house, I found myself musing on the fact that it simply never occurred to me to care one way or the other that the gel wanted to dress up as a male character or that this would catch anybody on the hop.  Flipping things around, though, I readily admitted to myself that had she been a boy and had s/he announced that s/he wanted to trick or treat as, say, a ballerina or Snow White, well then I would have had some serious concerns about that.

Perhaps I’m inconsistent in this, but I don’t really care.

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