sbroadway reminds me that this week (October 4) is the traditional date for the followers of St. Francis to bless animals. Seems to me there's a natural call to ministry here for guys like the above, from the 2006 Monroe Co. Festival Parade. (You can dress 'em in brown robes and cowls, if it makes you feel more religious.)
I try to refrain from giving advice when I am preparing a couple for marriage; after all, they've got to live with each other, not me. But I just can't help but say the occasional thing like this.
Attention, married men:
The easiest way to make your wife happy is, go to church with her. Nothing else you do -- absolutely nothing -- will pay as great a dividend for as little effort. So get up off your duffs and find a pew. See if she doesn't love you for it!
Last week, my issue of National Geographic came in the mail. Not too many pages of wonderment and excitement in the old girl any more; nowadays, we get doom and gloom and political screeds. Great pix, but depressing as hell to read.
The news has all been school shootings, scandals, angry political talk (hmmm . . . must be an election approaching). It's all appalling, but I'm tired of it. Each story/issue is important, of course, but the cumulative effect is to make my brain shut down.
I can't make the awfulnesses better (except by praying), and I already know who I'm voting for. Time to cocoon a bit. I'm avoiding the TV news, mostly. And I'm finally getting around to reading Starship Troopers, just for grins.
If I could go camping, it'd get even better. (Though I am planning on being out at Wilderstead Friday and Saturday -- gotta get that outside flue installed.) Maybe if I pull the covers up high enough, everything else will go away and the world will get back to normal.