The Days of Restless Youth Revisited:
Thought for the Day:
To put your life in danger from time to time... breeds a saneness in dealing with day-to-day trivialities. -- Nevil Shute (yes, I know I used this one a few months ago, but I love it and it fits my life well, life tastes sweet to those who know other things.)
On the Weekend in Review:
I spent Friday:
...praying for death (I hate rock concerts, with free drinks), and getting more shots at the doctors followed by getting four new tires for the sweet and loving Mrs. JQP’s Jeep, (she says her girl likes the new shoes). I was in bed by 8…nothing really exciting…
Now Saturday:
Took a few turns that I had not foreseen. I taught a class form 8 till 1, that really went pretty well, stopped by three places to pick up fresh produce for my cooking, and managed to hide from the rugby team until about 3:00 (when they quit calling, however I was very tempted to at least go to the party and sing bawdy rugby songs, but dear reader the night took an unexpected turn). I made Tuscan Chicken it turned out wonderful, and thawed some Sea Bass (always thaw fish in milk, it takes out the fishy smell) after our early supper, we settled in for a quite night of reading and relaxation.
Suddenly the phone rings, it is my long lost friend Dr. D, the only enlisted member of the Nat. Guard with a PhD. (it’s a long story, we were in the Army together, and later in life ran into each other and worked on some military related projects) he is currently a college professor doing a lot of research in the Commonwealth due south of my Indiana home. Needless to say we went out, meeting at my favorite bar and moving onto a redneck roadhouse I know of two towns south.
Alcohol was a factor and words were exchanged with the local indigenous population, which of course made for a very interesting turn of events. Now I am a man of infinite patience, but it only takes someone spiting on me and I tend to lose my sense of humor. Needless to say, fisticuffs ensued. For the sake of limited liability, the details of the rest of the evening will be omitted, (but the word “Airborne” was shouted several times) but it did end up with all of us buying each other shots and being good ol’ buddies. Only in my life…
Which of course brings my to Sunday:
well…I seem to have broken two fingers (the same two fingers as last year, and popped my knee out, to include my back (there was a lesson learned, about fighting in ice covered parking lots, out numbered, but what the hell, I didn’t hurt anyone to awful bad, and ended up getting free drink out of the deal, just one of those, dumb-ass attacks, where you think your 18, but your body lets you know that that day as come and gone, but hell it was fun).
I believe I forgot to mention that the Sweet and Supportive Mrs. JQP was along with us and as she said Sunday, she wouldn’t of missed it for the world (that and you always need someone to go start the truck when shit hits the fan). She likes that kind of stuff, there is a big streak of reform school girl in her, which is why she carries a razor in her shoe and often tells people who upset her that she will shoot them in the face (my little flower). So, after visiting my friends at ER Sunday morning and getting my leg wrapped, new crutches, and my fingers set, plus a shot of good drugs for my back I went home and read poetry the rest of the day.
However I did make the sea bass with fresh basil and roast garlic. I didn’t make bread like I hand planed because of my fingers, but what the hell, oh and yes…we skipped Mass, I am thinking about staying away until Ash Wednesday, Lint is always my favorite religious holiday.
For the Week:
Well, I am interviewing interns (got to love free labor) have some court, some teaching out of town (way down south and way up north) and a shit load of grants to write. Like in the service of mankind, same old same old.
Your Word/Phrase for the Day:
Toe up from the floor up: To be really messed up (like from a hangover or a fight). Sometimes abbreviated to simply "toe up." (yes, I know this is a retred as well, but it fits my mood and the the story line)
Your Saint for the Week:
St. Gildas: This saint was born around the year 500 in Britain. He set out as a young man to practice a self-sacrificing lifestyle. He did this to help himself become closer to God. Gildas was serious about his Christian commitment. He felt the responsibility to pray and sacrifice for the sins committed by the people of his times. He wrote sermons trying to convince people to give up wickedness. He encouraged them to stop their lives of scandal. Because Gildas cared so much, his writings sometimes seemed overly critical. Actually, he didn't mean to condemn anyone. He was begging people to turn to God.
Gildas was a spiritual man who lived a hermit's life. He didn't choose a quiet, prayerful life because he wanted to keep away from the world around him. He chose his life to help him grow closer to God. He was more aware than the average person of some things that were very wrong in society. Sadly, many people were not aware enough of God and his law. They did not even realize the evils that were destroying them. That is why some people in the Church-priests, bishops and laymen and women-went to Gildas for advice about deeply spiritual matters.
Toward the end of his life, Gildas lived his hermit's life on a tiny island in Brittany. Even though he wanted to be alone to prepare his soul for death, disciples followed him there. He welcomed them as a sign that the Lord wanted him to share his spiritual gifts with others. Gildas was like the "conscience" of society. Sometimes we don't like to hear about sin, but sin is real. Sometimes we, too, are tempted to do wrong or are neglectful. Then we can say a little prayer to St. Gildas. We can ask him to obtain for us the will power to do the right thing.
Your Bill for the Day:
"O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!" --From Hamlet (I, v, 106)
Quote of the Day:
Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891, Irish dramatist, novelist, & poet (1854 - 1900)
I remain, evermore myself;
John Q. Public esq.
To put your life in danger from time to time... breeds a saneness in dealing with day-to-day trivialities. -- Nevil Shute (yes, I know I used this one a few months ago, but I love it and it fits my life well, life tastes sweet to those who know other things.)
On the Weekend in Review:
I spent Friday:
...praying for death (I hate rock concerts, with free drinks), and getting more shots at the doctors followed by getting four new tires for the sweet and loving Mrs. JQP’s Jeep, (she says her girl likes the new shoes). I was in bed by 8…nothing really exciting…
Now Saturday:
Took a few turns that I had not foreseen. I taught a class form 8 till 1, that really went pretty well, stopped by three places to pick up fresh produce for my cooking, and managed to hide from the rugby team until about 3:00 (when they quit calling, however I was very tempted to at least go to the party and sing bawdy rugby songs, but dear reader the night took an unexpected turn). I made Tuscan Chicken it turned out wonderful, and thawed some Sea Bass (always thaw fish in milk, it takes out the fishy smell) after our early supper, we settled in for a quite night of reading and relaxation.
Suddenly the phone rings, it is my long lost friend Dr. D, the only enlisted member of the Nat. Guard with a PhD. (it’s a long story, we were in the Army together, and later in life ran into each other and worked on some military related projects) he is currently a college professor doing a lot of research in the Commonwealth due south of my Indiana home. Needless to say we went out, meeting at my favorite bar and moving onto a redneck roadhouse I know of two towns south.
Alcohol was a factor and words were exchanged with the local indigenous population, which of course made for a very interesting turn of events. Now I am a man of infinite patience, but it only takes someone spiting on me and I tend to lose my sense of humor. Needless to say, fisticuffs ensued. For the sake of limited liability, the details of the rest of the evening will be omitted, (but the word “Airborne” was shouted several times) but it did end up with all of us buying each other shots and being good ol’ buddies. Only in my life…
Which of course brings my to Sunday:
well…I seem to have broken two fingers (the same two fingers as last year, and popped my knee out, to include my back (there was a lesson learned, about fighting in ice covered parking lots, out numbered, but what the hell, I didn’t hurt anyone to awful bad, and ended up getting free drink out of the deal, just one of those, dumb-ass attacks, where you think your 18, but your body lets you know that that day as come and gone, but hell it was fun).
I believe I forgot to mention that the Sweet and Supportive Mrs. JQP was along with us and as she said Sunday, she wouldn’t of missed it for the world (that and you always need someone to go start the truck when shit hits the fan). She likes that kind of stuff, there is a big streak of reform school girl in her, which is why she carries a razor in her shoe and often tells people who upset her that she will shoot them in the face (my little flower). So, after visiting my friends at ER Sunday morning and getting my leg wrapped, new crutches, and my fingers set, plus a shot of good drugs for my back I went home and read poetry the rest of the day.
However I did make the sea bass with fresh basil and roast garlic. I didn’t make bread like I hand planed because of my fingers, but what the hell, oh and yes…we skipped Mass, I am thinking about staying away until Ash Wednesday, Lint is always my favorite religious holiday.
For the Week:
Well, I am interviewing interns (got to love free labor) have some court, some teaching out of town (way down south and way up north) and a shit load of grants to write. Like in the service of mankind, same old same old.
Your Word/Phrase for the Day:
Toe up from the floor up: To be really messed up (like from a hangover or a fight). Sometimes abbreviated to simply "toe up." (yes, I know this is a retred as well, but it fits my mood and the the story line)
Your Saint for the Week:
St. Gildas: This saint was born around the year 500 in Britain. He set out as a young man to practice a self-sacrificing lifestyle. He did this to help himself become closer to God. Gildas was serious about his Christian commitment. He felt the responsibility to pray and sacrifice for the sins committed by the people of his times. He wrote sermons trying to convince people to give up wickedness. He encouraged them to stop their lives of scandal. Because Gildas cared so much, his writings sometimes seemed overly critical. Actually, he didn't mean to condemn anyone. He was begging people to turn to God.
Gildas was a spiritual man who lived a hermit's life. He didn't choose a quiet, prayerful life because he wanted to keep away from the world around him. He chose his life to help him grow closer to God. He was more aware than the average person of some things that were very wrong in society. Sadly, many people were not aware enough of God and his law. They did not even realize the evils that were destroying them. That is why some people in the Church-priests, bishops and laymen and women-went to Gildas for advice about deeply spiritual matters.
Toward the end of his life, Gildas lived his hermit's life on a tiny island in Brittany. Even though he wanted to be alone to prepare his soul for death, disciples followed him there. He welcomed them as a sign that the Lord wanted him to share his spiritual gifts with others. Gildas was like the "conscience" of society. Sometimes we don't like to hear about sin, but sin is real. Sometimes we, too, are tempted to do wrong or are neglectful. Then we can say a little prayer to St. Gildas. We can ask him to obtain for us the will power to do the right thing.
Your Bill for the Day:
"O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!" --From Hamlet (I, v, 106)
Quote of the Day:
Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's mistakes.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray, 1891, Irish dramatist, novelist, & poet (1854 - 1900)
I remain, evermore myself;
John Q. Public esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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