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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ah, the twenty-something hipster-doofas unemployable liberal arts major lifestyle!  Except that instead of living in our parents’ basement, Mrs. R and I find ourselves currently living in our own, our bedroom temporarily covered over in plastick sheeting as the contractor and his crew swarm the mawster bawthroom.

As a matter of fact, the study down here is rayther snug, comfy and quiet.  Years ago when we first moved in, ol’ Robbo had dreams of making this room his fortress of solitude.   That idea lasted all of about twenty minutes.  One can still have the room to oneself from time to time, but it’s more a system of right of first possession than any kind of paterfamilial precedence.   I can throw the gels out but I can’t budge Mrs. R when she’s deep in her scrapbooking and CSI reruns.

Anyhoo, even as I type, the plumbers are here messing about with piping.  All the framing and underflooring (except where the plumbers are working) have been done and they say they can start laying tile on Monday.   Unfortunately, they’ve temporarily shut off the water.  I say unfortunately because I’ve been working in the garden and yard all day and was really hoping to rinse off and make myself a very tall glass of iced coffee.  But here I am instead wasting my time and yours blogging about it.

Actually, not so much a waste of time.  Staring out the window just now, I suddenly remembered that one of the things I wanted to do today is poison some more of that damned wild grape vine that gets into everything ’round here.  I would have been quite crabby had I recalled that after I’d got cleaned up.  So there you go.

And speaking of cleaning up, the other day I read Graham Greene’s The Power And The Glory, the story of the hunting of a Catholic priest by the revolutionary government of Mexico in the 1920’s.  Much food for thought there about the nature of piety and the relationship between God and Man that would have gone rocketing right over my head not that many years ago.

In the story, the nameless priest is pursued primarily by a zealous police lieutenant, a man hell-bent on wiping out all remnants of the old order and replacing it with the Brave New World.  I had heard or known that this lieutenant was something of a monster.  What I hadn’t expected was that he was so very convinced that what he was about – even where it involved torture, brutality and murder – was good.  Not “good” in the Emperor Palpatine seducing Luke to the Dark Side “Good…..Goooooood!” sense, but “good” as in noble and leading to a better life for the people.

And it occurs to me that this is the kind of behavior that really gets the devil rolling around on the floor in fits of diabolical laughter.   There are plenty of Truly Bad People in teh world, but they’re relatively cheap and uninteresting.  How much more juicy for him must those people be who mistakenly think they’re doing good while, in reality, actually are committing sin.   And, because they think they’re doing good, therefore never feel they need to repent.

Enough to make your flesh creep.  It really is.

Oh, speaking of which, I had quite the odd dream last evening.  In it, I was wandering around a Metro station trying to find a fare machine that took credit cards.  As I passed up and down seemingly endless stairs and went through countless doors, the station looked less and less like a Metro station and more and more like the inside of some grand house.  Suddenly, as I passed through a swing door, I found myself not in house but in the National Cathedral.  The staff was busy preparing for some particular Sunday celebration I’d never heard of – something like Up In The Sky Sunday.  The walls were covered with all kinds of art work, among which I particularly recognized a poster of Tweety-Bird.  Somebody was rehearsing at the lectern and throwing flower petals about her as she spoke.  As I stood looking around, an enormously tall priestess came by talking to somebody else.  I overheard her say that this Sunday was her favorite of the year and that she was really looking forward to it.  I scowled and she, spotting me, glared back.  And then, as they say, I woke up.

Make of that what you will.   In the meantime, I’m going to go kill me dead some grape vine.


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June 2013