I’m sure this will be met with an array of huffs and puffs from our teenager. He fell asleep on me the last time we went to mass at 10pm, never mind midnight.
I was considering what to wear. I have been contemplating enlarging my skirt collection. We’ll see.
The Archdiocese sent out a letter in early December. I snapped it up before it went into the recycling bin. It contains a lot of information never seen on their letterhead before. Such as: I apologize to those who have suffered sexual abuse at the hands of the clergy. It goes on, for two whole pages. It’s well-written. Candid, too. I felt it came from the right place.
I grew up around pastors and churches. If it’s one thing those guys love, it’s the power they wield. Church is a big business, regardless of denomination. First, there are a lot of people under the command of the pastor. Secondly, those people represent two forms of capital – free human labor and financial revenue. When I was 10, the church I attended in the UK went through a split. That is, one portion of the church departed with the former pastor, who had been ousted in a kind of coup, by the remaining parishioners. The correlations of war are appropriate here. Character assassination, threats, general badmouthing, and definite back door strategies to overthrow were all employed.
The mega churches of this world represent an incredibly scaled up version of the smallish church I attended as a child. The stakes are far higher. The corruption is abundant anywhere power is in play. My favorite tactic is the super-anti-gay pastors who are later caught in same-sex acts. Where else but in plain sight is it best to hide?
Humans are seriously fucked up. We cannot find our asses with a flashlight, as the saying goes. Not one of us is exempt, either. It’s a learn from your mistakes kind of gig. Depends on how many goes at the mistake you’d like to take.
The laundry is calling. The Saturday nights I’ve been having this year are pretty epic. Before I go, let me say a bit more. Gripping, life-changing stuff!
My favorite thing to eat lately is whole milk Greek yogurt + KIND honey nut granola + fresh blueberries. If you let it sit together in the fridge for a while you will not chip a tooth on the granola.
I have arrived at the 9th book in the Tales of the City series, The Days of Anna Madrigal. To me, these 9 books represent Gay Americana, a kind of 101-historical experience – a read befitting everyone, but most definitely my rainbow people. I have enjoyed each chapter. I haven’t enjoyed a series of books like that since I read all of Outlander – a massive collection. Showtime is only just starting to unpeel the layers of that epic master many years after its debut in the Romance section, of all places. It unfolds into a historical thriller, in my opinion. While it’s steamy in spots, it is equally violent and true to each era. Go get some! I need something new to read.
My great Aunt called me today. She left a really long message. It’s why I did not pick up. I like to save her messages. She is 89, after all. If I had thought it through, I would have recorded my grandparents a lot.
I was at the candy store a few weeks back. A woman was chasing her kid around.
“Quila! Quila!!” she shouted, as the child ran around, literally a kid in a candy store. Suddenly, the mom was at her wits end. And then she let her have it: “TE-QUILA!! Get over here!!!”
I had to wait until December, but that takes the cake for my 2018 Name of the Year.