The Unpredicted
Hanging on four hours of sleep last night, the seven alarm created endless loops of “If I Were a Rich Man” spinning through the forgotten musicals cobwebs of my brain. For no logical reason whatsoever. So that was a little annoying.
But. The largest elimination comeback game in post season history. Makes sense given they were down to their final strike again not two, but a startlingly five times last night.
Puck and I read about knights this morning. Apparently these armored fellows, after having injured their heads in combat, shaved off all of their hair and embalmed their bare scalps with oil, honey, and…
roses.
There were some tough punks.
Because Theodore had celebrated his 63rd birthday on Thursday, and despite Puck’s low cold fever from the previous night, we joined the Silverspoons for the afternoon. The Bear napped off a neck-ache. I guess we were starting to fall apart a little bit. But there was bean soup and thin dark chocolate-covered pretzels.
With a somewhat profound lack of celebratory atmosphere, given the way things just happened to land, Gloria at least had discovered a nearby location where Theodore might ride horses whenever he felt like going to ride horses. Just like old days. And while the boys tinkered with internets and things, and The Bear tried to fix another headache, Gloria and I went hunting a wall table for the basement around town. That just-right autumn warm-cool gray sky followed us. I know I mention it a lot, but there is something never better than that kind of weather in October. Shopping with Gloria – going anywhere with Gloria – is like speed class reunions, I would imagine. That’s just how Gloria is. You’re a friend in twenty seconds, a comrade in thirty, and by forty, she knows your whole life story.
“My feet are as hot as pie,” Puck commented on the way home.
Lightening flashed in the west.
Poor kid. Although he still felt well enough to giggle back in his bed when Crackers stuck two soft gray paws in his eyeballs. His fever broke thirty minutes later, in his sleep.
A sudden satisfying rhythm of rain splashed on the pavement as we closed down an early evening with half of the second Sherlock Holmes, to cut a muggy afternoon following with an evening wind.
And Icy Hot on OLeif’s beleaguered shoulders. Poor chap.
Thought of the Day
It’s really a darned good thing Jesus wasn’t born anytime past the industrial revolution. The Bear and I have discussed this idea several times, and we agree. Not that it matters much whether we rubber-stamp a large red “APPROVED” on the Creator’s timeline or not. But it sort of sculpts a different perspective considering why God sent Himself to Earth in that specific hole punch in our historically biased politically correct textbooks.
I mean, can you imagine if Jesus had been born, say, in the 1980’s, and kicked off his ministry in the last two or three years? Is there a single soul on Earth who could absolutely 100% believe that something hadn’t been digitally manipulated to coax two fish into thousands on that hilltop? Or that a technologically savant medical miracle cure hadn’t wowed the crowds into transforming the blind, lame, and dead? Any image can be coaxed. Any film reel – if that’s what they still call it – can be pinched, pressed, snipped, stained, whatever, to convince. But no one really is. No one would have believed it. I think.
And news media would have completely drowned him, the paparazzi would have been overwhelming. If he could hardly catch a breath in ancient Palestine, already, how would the ravenous hounds of today’s pillaging press and photo-hungry cameras have welcomed him? It would have taken ten years, not three, just to complete his ministry.
Also, with all absolute complete respect – the execution of crucifixion is, as far as I am aware, extinct. I have a feeling you wouldn’t see so many gold crosses hanging around necks everywhere you turn. There might be something more… sterilized, more… “humane”.
Of course there are millions of solid reasons, vastly profound reasons I’m sure we’ll never know at present, why He came when He came. But those are the handful that usually kick around in my brain.