Ain’t it great when the DPW is digging up the sidewalk in front of your house, and in so doing, completely blocking your driveway with a dump truck and a backhoe so all you can do is sit inside feverishly clattering on your blog?

Yeah, I’m lovin’ it, too.

One more nugget of randomness for the afternoon: You know your local transit service has gone completely to hell in a handbasket when this bus, at the ripe old age of 22, is the most reliable workhorse on the road…

(yes, that’s yours truly standing on the roof )

…whereas this bus, for all its good looks and imposing size and grandiloquent power, is the biggest pain in the ass in the fleet.

I won’t go into its escapades two weekends ago, but I just thought I’d share that in some entry some time, in case anyone’s wondering why I’m between jobs.

Mind you, I did have an alternate reason for pointedly avoiding transit this past weekend: Cassie, Kristen, and Josh (Cassie’s significant other) are now nicely and happily settled in a 104-year-old duplex in a somewhat sketchy neighbourhood about 20 minutes away. It’s a beautiful place – I kicked myself at dinner last night for not bringing my camera to grab a few snapshots (not that I would have posted them for privacy reasons, mind). Still, it’s spacious, two floors, two bedrooms, a study room…dayum. We’ve gone from bus envy to house envy.

Buuuut, anyway…So I crashed at Cassie’s dorm room on Friday night, got a nice early start on Saturday, went with her to pick up Josh on the way to a couple of yard sales, found a computer desk at one of them, went to the new place, offloaded some furniture…oh boy, was that the fun part. Josh and I got to manhandle the couch through an unbelievably narrow space (complete with two different doorjambs) at the back door; it almost looked hopeless until we stood the couch on its end and crammed it through the corner one section at a time. Piece of cake – that’s practical guy engineering for ya. Dropped Josh off at his old apartment so he could get some stuff together. Continued to every yard sale in the newspaper. No dice finding the one necessity we’d been desperately seeking all morning – an affordable dining-room set (every set we found cost upwards of $200). Kristen hadn’t made her dramatic entrance yet, so we were just about to give up, go grab some lunch…

…when we turned the corner and drove right by a garage sale just down the block. And guess what we found there. A lightwood, round table and four chairs for 55 – count ‘em, FIFTY-FIVE – bucks. Done deal right on the spot. We loaded up, yoinked back to the apartment, and had just finished offloading the table when Josh and his fam showed up bearing his stuff. One more hour of good, hard workout and sweat-breaking in 80-degree humid weather, lugging Josh’s home theater (which, I say, is not an exaggeration) and furnishings into the place. Then lunch, then down to Hampton to drop off Cassie’s dad’s truck and get her car, then back to UNH to get my truck and nab that computer desk.

By this time, I was parched. One of these days I’ll have to go through the cab of my truck, cleaning out and organising all my rags and tools, in the fervent hopes of finding my canteen and web belt back there. Got the computer desk together, put the dining room set together, helped to move some stuff inside and put it away, went home, had dinner, rested up, wrote that last entry about what a jackass I feel like sometimes, went to bed, got up, went to church, added some roar to the choir, changed clothes, and headed back to UNH to get the rest of Cassie’s stuff from her dorm. Nice big heavy Rubbermaid crates and an 8-foot Ford F-150 for all your hauling needs, folks – keep ‘em in mind.

Sooo…we moved the last of Cassie and Kristen’s stuff into the apartment, ordered in some Pizza Hut for lunch, and then Josh and I attacked that dining-room set one last time. It’s a round table that can be yanked in half so you can insert a leaf or two and seat more people, but there was no way of locking the two halves together…until Josh found a set of curtain hangers which we didn’t need. That’s da stuff. One thing I’m sorely lacking, however, is a power drill – which it turned out I desperately needed to screw in those brackets and hold the dang thing together. BUT, despite being armed with just a pithy Phillips screwdriver, Josh and I prevailed once again; a little determination here, some brute force there, and we got it close enough for government work. May all furniture cower before us in fear!!! *reaches for the sky*

*ahem*

Yeah. Homeness. Nappage. Two hours of it, in fact. Woke up, caught a much-welcomed frothing wave of joy from SuperRu , and felt content all the way back to the apartment for dinner. Interesting proposal came up at our nicely fixed table. We’re going to watch “The Ring” tonight, and if Kristen can sit through it, Cassie will sit through LOTR one of these nights. So we popped “The Ring” into Josh’s big-ass home theater, and I might add that if there was an Academy Award for Cheesiest Horror Flick, that movie would be in high contention. (Then again, horror movies get cheesier by the year, so that wouldn’t be too hard, now would it?) But Kristen miraculously sat through it, and we know what that means. Never fear, Cassie – anything you don’t understand about LOTR, I’ll be more than happy to explain.

Anyway, we made up for “The Ring” with “Finding Nemo.” Gah, those seagulls never fail to crack us up – they even look like Greg… Homeness, sleepage, and an awakening to the grindcrushingroar of the good ol’ DPW Mondaymashing in front of the house. So much for our front lawn.

So what’d you all do with your fun and exciting weekend?

One thing that I ask of everybody who’s willing and able to do so.

Please pray as often as you can for my good friend Ruth.

She’s going through a really, really bad time, and in a way, it hits close to home with me. For that and other reasons, I’ve been praying for her so hard that there are fingernail marks in my palms. Pray for her strength and for 360-degree support to help her hit the curveballs that life is throwing at her right now.

Even before I found out that this was going on, I had been thinking a lot over the last few days, self-reflecting, ever since I had a chat with my buddy Rachel. Being that we both post on a certain massive Star Wars message forum which shall remain nameless (and therefore URL-less ), where theatrics and melodrama tend to proliferate in the fan fiction section, we fell to talking that evening about people with severe ego issues and self-serving conduct. I asked Rachel if she thought that I was one of those people, because quite honestly, I’ve been feeling a growing sense of dread about it lately. Her reply: We all have some measure of ego, but it just comes across in different ways and in different volumes. It’s when you’re trying to get yourself nominated for some kind of special recognition that it’s time to examine yourself. Then she asked me if I thought she was one of those people.

My response was but three words:

“Not a chance.”

There are people out there who can admirably laugh off criticism and boot self-serving statements from the Ego Brigade into the ditch, and Rachel is one of those people. However, it really made me think as our discussion continued; because she said something along the lines of, self-acceptance is one of the first steps to taking these things in stride and enjoying life.

And ya know what? Therein lies the problem.

Because I have never truly been happy with myself, and I know it. For one reason or another, there’s always some flaw or some defect or some ugly personality trait that I’m struggling to overcome. Just as I polish one off, either a new one pops up or an old one recurs, and when that happens, it drives me freaking nuts. Sometimes I go into my comments log and reread some of the stuff I’ve posted on other people’s sites, when they’re feeling down or stressed out and I’ve left them a few words, hoping to cheer them up by reminding them what’s good about life.

Then I come back here and read my own entries, and suddenly I realise just how hypocritical I sound – how can this guy be telling you how good life is when he thinks it’s such a dry rot? I don’t know, but lately I’ve been feeling hella-fake for it, which is just another nerve-grinding personality trait that I’ve got to reel in one of these years. A lot of people would probably ask me to try and tell them why it’s always a dirt road for me, so here’s the answer. My entire upbringing revolved around three words: Not Good Enough. That has been this life for almost 25 years and I have no doubt that that’s why I’m unable to spot its finer things, only the flubbing ugliness of failure.

Which makes me wonder, in turn, if that’s necessarily a bad thing. That I’m always spotting flaws and slavering to correct them. Are there other people out there who are so busy being positive that their flaws have festered and spread, without their knowledge? Do they even care – do they think that their happy, optimistic attitudes far outweigh the bad that’s within them? I know one or two who would instantly write me off as wrong for being the way I am, not even noticing how hard I’ve tried to become a better person just because I haven’t lived the same way they have. It’s hard to find balance, you know? Hard to try and work past these problems without growing a head bigger than a Midwestern pumpkin. Although I am often tempered by failure, once in a while a spark of accomplishment flashes, and it almost worries me that it’ll create too much self-image.

I know what you’re probably all saying now – leave it in the capable hands of God, for He is in control. Well, I don’t really doubt that. I just find it rather curious that God is bestowing one shortcoming after another on me, until it gets to the point that I don’t know what to expect beyond the bedroom door every day. His ways are mysterious, all right.

*sigh* See? Now I’m doing it again. Lobotomy, anyone?

Those of you who care, it might be a little while before the next part of Arda Online. I’m preparing a special surprise for the tenth installment which is taking quite a while to concoct, but fear not, it’ll be along.

No word from Concord yet; however, I don’t think there’s any cause for edginess just yet. If Thursday is the only day I can get an interview, though, I’m REALLY up shit’s creek. Well, nonetheless I’ll be on here typing feverishly whenever something is set up.

And now it’s time to withdraw briefly, since I seem to be entering another period where I can’t say a freaking word without getting somebody’s nose out of joint…

11:30: Yep, there it goes again. I’ll be back when my grey matter and my tongue (or fingers) are working on the same bloody wavelength.

YES.

My driving record has arrived at last after a two-week wait. The petition probably got hung up with some La-Z-Boy-modelling secretary who picked up the envelope, took a giggly personal call from a girl friend, dropped the envelope aside, went out to have a cigarette, came back in, struck up an idle conversation in the corridor, had a cup of coffee, made another laugh-parade personal call, looked down, saw the envelope lying there, and lazily fingerbrushed the peanut shells off of it before tossing it in the ‘Pithy Third-Level Civil Servants’ basket to collect dust for a few days. Ah, but what’s to matter? The record is here, it is squeaky clean, and it is now safely ensconced with my job application, which I’m dropping off first thing Monday morning.

Now all that’s left is to hope and pray to the Man Upstairs that this job happens. Hell, as long as it goes through, I don’t give a damn about finding lodging right away – if things work out as hoped, and I have roiling tidal waves of faith and confidence that they will, it won’t be a problem during the summer and hopefully after.

Another high-school classmate of mine is in the slammer. Charge is assault this time. After the armed robbers, the vandals, the countless DWIs and the double murderer, I guess it was only a matter of time. (Of course, those of you who are from stinkwell urban sprawls are probably asking now what’s to tsk-tsk about…see the beauty of small-town America now? )

ARDA ONLINE, Part 9: Where the Shadows Chat

DurinsBane2187: ‘nother question

RingKing2000: shoot

DurinsBane2187: does the name Will Turner mean anything to you?

RingKing2000: ……

DurinsBane2187: no, huh?

RingKing2000: well should it?

DurinsBane2187: eh, just wonderin’….this fangirl named Kelli was screeching about him a little while ago

RingKing2000: dunno, maybe a distant relative of legolas

DurinsBane2187: ugh…please tell me that doesn’t mean twice the fangirls

RingKing2000: DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

DurinsBane2187: hehe…ok, I won’t

RingKing2000: well anyway, i emailed treebeard, told him he’d better start thinking about an entmoot to deal with this wave of stupidity upon us

DurinsBane2187: dude…you ACTUALLY e-mailed one of the GOOD GUYS???

RingKing2000: yeah well, he hasn’t answered yet

RingKing2000: got an auto response saying he was *in* an entmoot already

DurinsBane2187: huh…wonder what that’s all about…

RingKing2000: dunno, but i asked him if he’d mind you joining in

DurinsBane2187: what are you nuts??  Treebeard reminds me of my old roomie from Angband

DurinsBane2187: he never said anything unless it was worth taking a loooong tiiiime to saaayyyy

RingKing2000: oy…and this was in *modern* Balroggish??

DurinsBane2187: damn right

DurinsBane2187: but at least Treebeard isn’t downright skanky when he gets up in the morning

RingKing2000: hmm…yeah i used to wonder why that godawful stench was bouncing off the walls every morning

DurinsBane2187: GROSSEST. ROOMMATE. EVER.

DurinsBane2187: never changed his lava bed, used to eat chick peas for a midnight snack…you could smell ‘em on his breath for days and seeping from his flame for a week

RingKing2000: ohhh, so that’s why maedhros’s forces turned tail and ran

RingKing2000: chick peas on Balrog breath…that would’ve knocked morgoth down if he was any nearer

DurinsBane2187: yeah pretty much…all my roomie had to do was plop a few of his dirty socks on the battlefield and he could scare away an oliphaunt

RingKing2000: *snicker* yeah well…even if he was still around, i doubt he’d be able to help with those friggin’ greasy dunedain

DurinsBane2187: lmao

DurinsBane2187: yeah, judging by Aragorn, they can even withstand a burning crack house

RingKing2000: tell me about it

RingKing2000: so if treebeard doesn’t stink up the whole place…think you can make it to fangorn forest in time for the entmoot?

DurinsBane2187:

DurinsBane2187: NO FREAKIN WAY AM I GOING IN THERE!!!!

RingKing2000: whoa dude, cool it!…uh wait…bad choice of words…relax! what’s the problem with going to hang out with the ents??

DurinsBane2187: oh wait…sorry

DurinsBane2187: for a sec I thought you said “Fangirl Forest” instead of “Fangorn Forest”

RingKing2000: lol!

RingKing2000: yeah i wouldn’t even ask an easterling to go into a fangirl forest

DurinsBane2187: hoyeah, even Gollum couldn’t show him the way out

RingKing2000: yeah like gollum doesn’t have enough frodo-and-sam gushers to avoid

DurinsBane2187: uh, let’s not go there…

RingKing2000: k

RingKing2000: so can i count on you to give ‘em the dope and help them come up with a battle plan without setting any of them on fire?

DurinsBane2187: hey man…good and evil unite against a common enemy…I’m there

RingKing2000: excellent…i’ll go email treebeard again and set it up

DurinsBane2187: k, I’m gonna get going, maybe they’ll be through with the current Entmoot by the time I get down the mountain

RingKing2000: all right, just don’t smite the mountainside in your ruin this time

DurinsBane2187: haha

RingKing2000: laterz

RingKing2000 signed off at 12:49:28 PM.

Heh heh heh…my dad was going to save “Master and Commander” for my birthday, but since it came in the mail today and my birthday is still two months off, neither of us could wait. Sooo…we just finished watching it, and DAMN, have I missed the music from that movie! It was beautiful, I tell you, beautiful. It fit the emotion of the movie so very well that…well, I wouldn’t dare insinuate that anything other than ROTK deserves the Oscars that it was nominated for, but I hope some awards department somewhere gave M&C props for its soundtrack. Original and pre-recorded. My dad has listened to the “Musical Evenings with the Captain” CD copious times since he got it for Christmas.

I might try and get the next part of Arda Online done tomorrow, but que sera, sera; for now, once again, we come to a slightly darker and drearier subject.

The Perfect Little Princess omitted to remove me from her address book after that last conversation. So now I’m still getting her mass-mailed crap, whether it be forwards or letters to her acquaintances where she basically just prattles and snoots about herself. If she knows I’m still in the book, she should damn well be aware that I’m deleting everything as it comes in – but not without seeing at least the subject. And tonight’s subject line heralded something about a…excuse me, new significant other?

Give me a break, kid.

This will be the third guy she’s gone through inside of a year; me, I’m still doomed to die alone. See, gang, this is why I’m so outspokenly opposed to the L-word – because people like her are constantly using it to rub my nose in the dirt. I’m sorry to be bitching about this for the Nth time, but it is so bloody frustrating and discouraging that I don’t think I’ll be able to stop bitching about it until our paths have permanently separated. You’ll all be the first ones to know when that happens so you finally have something joyful and uplifted to read.

Edit – okay, so a light morning chat with Cassie has revealed that it wasn’t exactly what I thought. Nevertheless, this is a shining example of how that arrogant prat has been keeping me confused for the past three years. I prefer dealing with these things by means other than address blockage, but seriously, folks, it’s coming down to that. Film at eleven.

Boston needs to be burned to the ground in its entirety and then rebuilt with a street layout similar to Manhattan or Chicago. That’s all I’m sayin.’

Actually, that’s not *all* I’m sayin’. I’ve been meaning to add this for some time now:

A Handy Guide to a Driver’s Origins

One hand on wheel, one hand on horn: Chicago.
One hand on wheel, one finger out window: New York.
One hand on wheel, one finger out window, cutting diagonally across all ten lanes of traffic: New Jersey.
One hand on wheel, one hand on newspaper, foot flat on accelerator: Boston.
One hand on wheel, one hand on nonfat double-decaf cappuccino, one shoulder on cell phone, brick on accelerator: Los Angeles.
Both hands on wheel, both feet on brake, eyes squeezed shut, quivering in terror: Ohio (driving in Boston).
One hand on wheel, one arm out window, one foot on dashboard, doing 5 miles over the speed limit: New Hampshire.
One hand on wheel, one hand out window, blowing every red light encountered: Washington, D.C.
One hand on latte, one hand on cell phone, one knee on wheel, foot on brake, mind on game: Seattle.
Both hands clutching wheel, blue-grey hair barely visible above window level, doing 35 on the interstate in the far left lane with left blinker on: Florida.

If nothing else, this past weekend has brought me to an indisputable conclusion: If, in the very very very short time that is left at transit, I am ever given a choice between D59 and D53, it is D53 all the way.

Oh yeah. Saturday. University of New Haven with the lacrosse team. As of that evening, I officially hate D59. Jeff spent all of last week overhauling it, for crying out loud. New wiper, new mirror, new tires, looked great, drove great, handled great…and guess what was just BOUND to happen.

Loose wiring.

Same damn thing that happened to me on the dairy tour in January. Electrical wiring came loose when Jeff installed the new starter. Luckily then it was an easy fix. Electrical wiring came loose AGAIN when he put the new tires on it last Friday. Not such an easy fix, because “customer service” is an oxymoron in southern Connecticut. Voltage dropped bit by bit in the four hours it took us to get to New Haven, by which time it was just a HAIR below twelve volts – at which point the bus cannot be started. So I had to leave it running for the 2.5 hours that we were there while I called every truck center in the phone book, not ONE of which had the personnel and/or the equipment to repair the problem. If you ask me, they just couldn’t be bothered to get off their asses and come out and make a buck.

So I warn the guys, gotta leave all the electricity off on the trip home. Bar one. The headlights – you can’t turn ‘em off when the damn bus is in gear. Down to 11 volts by the time we return – that’s when it starts to affect the transmission and provide a ride as jerky as beef. And THEN, in just the amount of time it took me to clean the washroom and mop the floor, the bastard flatlined. I could barely even get it in gear to tank it up and return to its parking space, where I hope it stays indefinitely because it is such a PAIN in the ASS.

So that was my misadventure on Saturday. Now one thing you non-college-goers must be aware of is that NCAA coaches are ridiculously high-maintenance; everything has to be prepared and effected to their precise specification, else it’s no good and they’ll read you the riot act. That means one can be almost assured of a grumbling or three if one doesn’t show up with D59, for exactly one reason: it’s big, fancy, fast and it looks nice. I was biting my fingernails yesterday with the field hockey team when I had no choice but to show up with D53. Luckily, if the coach was ticked about it, she didn’t let me know – she was a lot nicer than Jon gives her credit for. So down we go to UConn, where I have a very long and very gregarious chat with a Peter Pan bus driver who says that he won’t even leave the yard with a bus that looks like D53. Nonetheless, I tell him, he could be virtually assured that that bus would get him there and back again (a busman’s holiday ).

And whaddya know – it did.

Who’da thunk that D53 would make it all the way to UConn and back on one tank of fuel?? Somebody up there was keeping an eye out for us. I’m bloody thankful that there was a calm after the storm. I almost started to wish that thing would be available for every trip that I have left, but all things considered, that might cause problems in the long run…Boy, I’m telling ya, if one more thing goes wrong tonight or tomorrow, I’m calling it quits whether I have the new job or not. It sure as hell isn’t the mechanics’ fault, and only a fraction of the blame can rest with what is laughingly called the “management”; the rest can go to the bureaucrats who care more about the activists than the rest of the population, and how that population is going to get from point A to point B.

Now why am I spilling all this to everybody who’s reading? I wasn’t quite sure at first, but believe it or not, there is a point I want to make: If you still have some time to choose your college,

DO NOT APPLY TO THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

It’s a waste of time and money to attend that bureaucracy. If your title is “student”, you can count on being shafted, on having an empty wallet, on being deluged with political correctness, on being left outside to freeze to death, and on being stranded with a disabled bus. You will be risking your sanity and your being if you apply to the University of No Holidays, University of No Heterosexuals, University of No Housing…University of No Hope.

I’m sorry for ranting about work and about UNH so much lately – both entities are just really wearing down on my nerves. Can’t wait to sever all ties to both…Provided I don’t have a new and unforeseen disaster tonight, look for a new part of Arda Online later. Dat’s right – I must fight fire with fire, thus fight insanity with insanity.

We-e-ell, if to-day wasn’t a full and interesting and pellmellswell day…

First batch of photos from vacation is now being developed – look for ‘em some time next week. Dropped over to work. While I’m waiting for my driving record to take up an unobtrusive little corner of the mailbox, I’m stuck at transit, but God willing, will be out of there by the end of the month and working for a nearby coach line. Dayum, did I scribble the work codes on that time card…Checked off some fire extinguishers, drove shuttle for precisely one loop, then had to go relieve a bus with a flat tire (and people wonder why I want out), limp that bus down to the garage, and help the mechanic replace the tire. Always nice when you need hours and you get ‘em by doing something useful.

Soooo…with the lease on Jon’s apartment expiring at the end of next month, he and Keith are on the hunt. Discussing this with Keith, I jump: “Keep me in mind, will you, guys?” I mean, they’re eyeing a five-bedroom house on a 200-acre piece of property. What’s not to pass up??? Hmm??? What??? If I get this new job, the commute would be a damn sight easier, and if they do pull in six or seven roomies, the rent would only be about $300 per person. Why da hell not?!

Really, no matter what job I’m working at the beginning of summer, it’ll be nice to move in with Jon and Keith and whoever else they pull in. Just be nice to get AWAY from HOME. Ya know? Today was Christa’s birthday, so I called her and we had a good long chat about what we’ve been up to since Christmas when we last saw each other. (Sounds like Benjamin, at the tender age of nine months, is almost standing up….) As usual, we did not forget to express our disappointment over our parental units and their paranoid close-mindedness. But, we won’t get into that now. Suffice it to say I won’t bitch about getting out of their shadow. I mean, a 200-acre piece of property? Even if we’re just renting, I can range to my heart’s content!

Many might see this as a fringe benefit. I see it as almost a blessing. Jenny and I are both leaving transit this semester. She’s going back home and one way or another, I’m moving out some time this summer. We will be separated by vast miles of road, hill, establishment, civilisation, wilderness, and last but not least, emotion. Already I find myself praying that I will never, ever see her again.

Curious and curiouser…I just got a “Waiting to Date You” E-mail from some date-service website called www.finding(somethingorother).com, saying that they’d been trying to contact me for a week about a blind date…which was set up by a mystery friend…Well, not only have I not been contacted at all about such a thing, but whoever this mystery friend is, they should know that dates and Chris are like mosquitoes and bug spray. Especially when it’s a blind date and I don’t even know if the other party is of the Roseanna-Faith-Wendy variety (kind, caring, understanding and sweet) or the Jenny-Dana-Anna variety (cold, hypocritical, narcissistic and self-absorbed). Whoever you are, mystery friend, feel free to come forward and spill. I promise I won’t bite, I just want to get this straight.

So I’ll keep y’all posted on the new place and the new job. Meanwhile, I am waaaay far behind on writing and to top it all off, now coming down with that dustbusting cold that’s been going around. So have a lovely evening one and all, stay warm, stay dry, and don’t ever get old.

Christos anesti ek nekron, thanaton thanato patisas, ke ti se tis mni masin zoin kalisamenos!*

*Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and restoring to life all those that were in the tombs!

It’s always nice when Western Easter and Orthodox Easter are on the same day – that way I don’t have to explain the differences in the Orthodox church calendar to anyone. OK, let’s see if I can type coherently ten minutes after getting home from vigil…

Lent has been rough. I’ve found it nigh impossible to keep a proper fast and to hold myself off from the cares of this worldly life. I spent the entire time, especially Holy Week, dreading the day when I would have to answer for it before the Judgment Seat of Christ. Then something clicked – don’t know if it was the priestly words of Good Friday or the Homily of St. John Chrysostom tonight. Or maybe it was the Gospel. Every year, I go to Easter vigil with some kind of gaspumpvibe sensation running through me as I anticipate what’s going to happen when we light our candles in the midst of a blacked-out church.

The Gospel of the Resurrection never fails to give me a charge: “‘You seek Jesus of Nazareth; He has risen! He is not here!’” That line always makes me feel like singing praise at the top of my lungs. And ultimately, I think that’s really what matters when the wire lies exposed. Have you had a tough time keeping Lent as I have? Well, ask yourself this – has your heart been in the right place for all forty days? Have you wanted to stick tightly to Lent, but kept getting sidetracked by one thing or another? I think, hope, and pray that that’s what it will all boil down to in the end, that you meant to hold yourself to a higher standard of Christianity and then keep holding it long after you walked out of vigil. If you knew what happened way back then and you’re wont to rejoice in what happened way back then, I’d like to think that you’re on the right track.

However, it’s up to you not to throw any switches along the way.

How do I mean? I mean some of the behaviour from the senior parishioners this past weekend. On Good Friday during the Lamentations, Father Newman told us, this is a time for reflection and for prayer and lamentation, not for talking and chatting. As soon as we step outside the church for the procession of the Epitaphios, what does a third of the congregation engage in? Idle chit-chat.

One old biddie was even talking on her cell phone right in the middle of the prayers.

You’d think people who have been going to this church for fifty and sixty years would know when to show some reverence. I mean, tonight, I can barely hear Father Angelo intoning the Sacrament of Communion because of all the muttering and chattering going on around me. People, this is Holy Communion on Easter Sunday!! If you’re going to chit-chat with anybody, chit-chat with God!!!

Ranger Rant #5048 has tarried at last. I have some of my own gum-beatings to carry on with the Man Upstairs before bed; and at the close of this Lenten season, I’ve a lot of people to pray for. You know who you are.

CHRIST IS RISEN!