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Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Today is the Feast of St. Blaise, so after Mass today we stayed late for the Blessing of the Throats.  Ol’ Robbo just loves these little grace notes of the Church.

On a different note, I begin to suspect that my Padre is a secret friend of the decanter because his homily today was mighty close to what I’ve been saying about the New York and Virginia infanticide laws.

FINISHING THE THOUGHT UPDATE:  I was under a time constraint earlier, imposed by the doggeh who wanted to go walkies.

I mentioned the Blessing to Mrs. R this afternoon when I got home.  She said, “Whatever makes you happy” but her eyes said “Popery!”  She seems to have no problem with the Blessing of the Animals (which is a logistical nightmare to me) so I fail to see why she should stick on side over this one.

On that front, Ol’ Robbo has started accompanying the family again on Sunday mornings to his Former Episcopal Church, mostly to ride herd and make sure that they actually go. (The timing is such that I can loiter around at coffee hour after the Palie service and then make my way over to my parish for Mass.)  Mrs. R and I had previously had a difference of opinion about my sitting and staring at the ceiling as she and the Gels made their way forward to the altar rail for the “Great Thanksgiving”.  Now, I go up with them, but simply cross my arms and quietly refuse the bread and wine.  The clergyperson gives me a blessing instead and all is well.

I ran this programme by my spiritual advisor to make sure I wasn’t doing anything bad.  He didn’t object, but instead noted the rather Herculean task I’d set for myself.  But I’m the husband and father here: What else is there that I could do?

 

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