Chez Rita, we are going through a somewhat liminal period. DHs health is appalling and the docs are worse than useless; with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Emphysema and several other issues, everybody is saying he is the problem of someone else. After today's Gospel, I've been left wondering whether this is a good definition of being poor; being in need but having no help from your fellow men who have the talent but not the balls to provide the necessary help.
I have a diagnosis! I also have some weird pills that are keeping me going till the next stage of the saga; more detailed diagnostic tests and hopefully an operation. Please, of your charity, pray for us both. We are in fine form spiritually, we are praying for you, but it would be nice for a change to have a little less cr*p in the day to day survival and mundane, insultingly stupid world of "patient care".
Some other thoughts:
Please do not use the phrase Taliban Catholic: it sucks.
Catholic is Catholic is Catholic, all adjectives are superfluous.
I've been lucky enough to attend some EF low Masses recently. I have a big blog entry brewing on "the Last Gospel". Oh, how I wish it was at the end of all Masses, it reduces me to tears....but that must wait.
If you are in Gloucestershire or its environs, the tea rooms at Prinknash Abbey have books for sale from their library. I picked up some good, holy reading; The Life of Gemma Galgani (1913) and Reminiscences of Sister Elizabeth of the Trinity (1921). These books for sale are a fascinating historical trawl through what Catholics have considered important over the years and what some see fit to discard. It will be interesting to see if books from the late 1960s and 1970s prove the hardest to shift.
I wish the blackberries would hurry up and ripen. According to Joanna Bogle, in one of her books, you can't eat them after the feast of St Michael, because the devil spits on them in disgust. He'll have a lot of spitting to do this year.