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The Edmonds Group

My mother and I have a standing joke, or rather, a common topic of conversation. There is a group of small-in-stature, elderly-in-years women (aka “little old ladies” – tho the “ladies” part is debatable) that attends her church. It seems this group comes to church to socialize, somehow mistaking a church building with published hours of service, for a bus station or football stadium. In fact, it was a friend of my mother’s that provided the moniker. Sad to say, the Edmonds Group has a chapter at my church.

I’m not really complaining that their idiotic prattle, especially at a time when I am trying to get close to God, is somehow offensive; or that I am “holier than thou” (them?). For they are teaching me patience. You see, although the Church is very clear about the purpose of Mass (in a nutshell, to worship God), I go to Mass for penance. So, the Edmonds Group is really doing me a favor, because I have so much joy in my life, I need them to bring me down to the reality that life really does suck.

But, what I don’t understand is why they feel the need to flap their tongues (at all), let alone immediately before a religious service, while the very slow, like me, are trying to leave the worldly crap outside so I can concentrate on why it is I am there to begin with. Frankly, I never want to hear the chatter of the chattering class anyway (noise is simply that: noise – it is not music to my ears). But, to have to be subjected to their noise is so…infuriating. No, no, I take that back: it is not, it is liberating and rejuvenating and reassuring. Yeah, I don’t believe any of that, either.

And, don’t get me started on those that come in late and leave early. I don’t want to go there.

But, I will scratch my head at the usher who insisted on interrupting my praying (I was kneeling, with a rosary in my hands) to let some folks into the pew. Hey, they had two little kids – arriving just before the processional is perfectly understandable. Even when one of the little kids threw a fit just before the recessional and daddy took him/her out. I got no problem at all with little kids acting like litte kids, i.e., acting their age. I do have a problem, a really huge problem with adults acting like little kids.

I am starting to ramble, but I am desperate to end this on a positive note.

Oh, here we go: I am positive that I love the Mass. It’s just that I don’t love all the people who would rather be someplace else, and act that way. Wow! I did find some common ground with my fellow man (that would include the old-fashioned, sexist, “little old ladies”): I don’t want them at Mass, either!

A video worth viewing

French envy

Obviously, I’ve got it all wrong: I never – and I do mean not in this lifetime – thought I would envy the French for anything, much less (way much less) than the recent demonstration they held in Paris to support the thousands-of-years old definition of marriage. Next thing you know, I just might buy French wine.


So, my 18 yr has this bed that needs a little TLC: one leg is definitely not square or plumb. I’ve given it a little persuasion once already. Do I continue to straighten it up? Or, do I wait until she does something (actually, fairly likely – but she would have to notice, first)? Or, wait until she says something (I would bet money that will never happen)? Furniture with live loads like beds and chairs will all get looser before they get tighter, at least, on their own. So, pretty safe to say I can predict with some certainty where this situation is going. But, do I intervene? Do I sit back and wait for her to (a) discover something needs attention, and then (b) do something (anything) about it? Or, do I stick my nose in where she has repeatedly made clear it is not welcome (what am I doing even LOOKING in her bedroom, eh)? I think I will go read…

Yeah, I know I am way behind (not news), but I found out about this site because I went to Mass yesterday – dunno how else I would have become aware of it; but have only one thing to say: JOY!

Well, if there was only one thing to say, there wouldn’t be much point in me having a blog, so:

Perhaps Blessed John Paul II felt a little like Philip explaining Scripture to the Ethiopian (Acts 8:26+) when he wrote Dei Verbum; but it sure would be nice to have somebody explain the documents of Vatican II.

Second thought: Thank God I am a Roman Catholic!  To have nearly 2,000 years of “Philips” to help out rocks like me!

Final thought: I had embarked on a study of the Book of Revelation this year, using the Ancient Christian Commentary (InterVarsity Press) as my guide, before I was introduced to The Vatican II Challenge – dear God, when am I going to find the time for this, too???

Yeah: JOY!

double et louche

Great video – well worth your while:

I got the phrase, “double et louche,” from Barbara Tuchman’s “A Distant Mirror”

The Slog Begins

Yeah, really depressing thought: the Holidays are over (Christmas is my Number One Most Favorite time of year), and I find myself back at “work” (i.e., the office job I have had for years out of mind).  Whatever else is true, I am certainly burned-out, vis-a-vis how I earn my paycheck.  Since I spend so many resources for my paycheck, it is probably no wonder that I look at the coming New Year as a great expanse of…well, nothing.  I don’t feel depressed; just not wetting my pants with excitement over the new year.  Ho hum.

I am feeling better about having posted Chapter One of Malachite; and think I will post a new chapter on the first of every month.  That gives me nearly 30 days to finish Chapter Two.  Better get started….

Malachite – Chapter 1

The knock on the door startled him. It had been weeks since anyone had come around; and that, after weeks of so many visitors wishing well – trying to help themselves feel better, and hoping the same thing wouldn’t happen to them.

“Yeah?” he called thru the door.

“Um, Mr, um, Mal-.” He opened the door before the caller could finish.

“Just ‘Mal.’ What can I do for you?”

“I’m, um, from the police department. I’m Sgt. Detective….”

“Thanks. Good or bad?”

“I’m, um, afraid the best I can offer is that we finally have a lead.”

“Let’s have it,” Mal sighed wearily. A virtual eternity of either silence or false hope had long since taken their toll.

“We have found a friend of your daughter’s. Uh, Jaz seems to have been with her last.”

Mal raised his eyebrows. Finally: someone who had actually seen Jade. Probably not helpful in finding his daughter, but some idea of where she had gotten off to.

“Would you like to talk with Jaz? Not that I think it will change anything….”

“Yes, of course. When?”

“As soon as you’d like. Today?”


“We had heard that we could get out of this hole by going thru a pool.” Jaz was looking down and worrying the bandages on her hands. She had been otherwise cleaned-up, but it would take weeks of calories to fill her emaciated face.

Mal leaned over and cupped his chin in his hands. How in the world did they survive going thru a pool? None of them had an exit as far as he knew, and he should know.

“When we got outside, we kept the morning sun on our right, ‘cause we heard that we could get to the city that way.”

The City? Jade and her friend should have been named ‘Dumb and Dumber’.

“We were gone about two suns when we got…. When we got, split up.” Jaz had yet to look up. Mal was about to grab her and shake her.

“Why did you get split up?” the female police officer gently prompted.

“We heard a noise. And, um, I ran. I just started running, and running, and running.” Jaz dissolved into tears and convulsive sobbing.


“Can you show me the pool the girls went out of?”

“We’ve already checked it out. We’ve had our best divers into it, and they could find no way out.”

“I guess there are two teen-aged girls who could teach your best divers a thing or two?”

“No. You don’t understand. There is no way out of that pool.”

“Ok. So how did they get out?”

“Not thru that pool. Anyway.”

“In, or out?”


“Well, either Jaz is making this all up, or she is the only person in the history of this place to both leave and return thru pools that are impassable.”


“You’ve got nothing to say? I’m not surprised. Just like everyone else around here, you’re content to do nothing.”

“That’s not fair! We have no training in this sort of thing.”

“Maybe an imagination would serve you better.”


Truth, which is simple and one, does not admit of variety.
Pope Leo I

A good thing, too, for I can wrap my iddy-biddy bwain only around that which is simple and devoid of variety.


An uncharacteristically bright, sunshiny, not-soggy day here in the Pacific Northwest; hard to pick from the list of things to do. So, while I am trying to decide how to spend this glorious day, I think I will curl up with Barbara Tuchman’s “A Distant Mirror.”

I should probably educate myself a whole lot more on this technology that I am using (or, in my ignorance, abusing). Yeah, that would be a good thing.

Well, the book won. Bye!

New Year’s Resolutions

I guess we do these things because of hope? I can think of no other reason to try to change – hopefully, improve – things/myself. After the joy of Christmas, the New Year’s thing just passes by, like dust in the wind (thank you, “Kansas”). But, something draws me to notice that one calendar year is ending and another is beginning. Might as well blame it on hope.

Hope is, after all, one of the Big Three, along with Faith and Charity.