I landed a gig as sous-chef for the first of our parish Fish Frys the other day.
“Sous-chef”: I guess that’s what you’d call it. Our master bean-maker wisely did not trust this rookie with wielding the industrial can opener. But he did permit me to drain the humongous cans of green beans, once opened.
Part of my ritual in tending to this blog is to change the “header” with each new liturgical season – so that the image atop the homepage of With Us Still…evokes (at least in my mind) the spirit of the season.
For the past several days, I’ve been staring down a class attendance sheet…and a stack of homework papers awaiting review.
Here’s hoping that my semi-scatological expletive wasn’t audible to the other reticent Romeos in the greeting card aisle yesterday.
I tried hard not to be jealous when a friend told me about his plans to spend this weekend skiing in Colorado. Then he sent a photo of the view he’s enjoying in Telluride.
I’m not exactly quick to embrace emerging technologies, but with subtle encouragement from my friends Andy and Mary, I recently added “Lulu.com” to the list.
Forty-five minutes into the meeting, I was begging under my breath to be set free.
I’m beginning to see clearly – with a bit of “2020 vision” – some things that were not at all obvious to me in 1975.
The bowling balls were bouncing a bit at Harvest Lanes yesterday.
Bouncing…or thunking: take your pick. But certainly not rolling, not in any sense that an experienced kegler could appreciate.
