Oh by the way, folks,
Today we wish a fond Happy Birthday to Carrie Underwood, born in 1983. She's a Singer of Twangy Songs. She's in her prime now, 31 years old, because 31 is a prime number.
Yesterday church was the usual litany of mystic incantations that probably bored God to tears. Father D preached the sermon in 11 minutes and 11 seconds.
Both preachers, as well as most of the congregation members, have known for a long time that I time the sermons.
So at the end of the sermon, Father D noticed me punching the button on Jock Clock, my sports-timer wristwatch, so he asked me how long the sermon was, so I told him.
So then a buncha other congregation members piped up that they have also been timing the sermons. Their times differed from mine by a few seconds one way or t'nother, but that's an expected deviation.
MrsPest's father was an Episcopal church bishop, and he used to time the sermons of the preachers that preached in his cathedral. One preacher's sermon was less than 6 minutes, so the bishop declared, "Best sermon I've heard in a long time! It was SHORT!!!"
You see, in the Episcopal church we've got such a ponderous litany of mystic incantations to get through that there really isn't much time for much of a sermon.
And then in the afternoon there was a presento by the Southern Maryland Secular Humanists: the first part of a 4-part video by Tom Flynn about the development of the Humanist movement, centered primarily on the life of Thomas Paine.
Today nothing's gonna happen except that I've got a routine dentist apptment. Then it looks like great weather to watch and see if the underground electric wire people and the sidewalk people are gonna be able to get a start on the stuff they've been eagerly promising us.
Signs of life