And now for something completely different

At last night’s Dignity Mass we had the clergy of the local Reformed Catholic Church (the Diocese of St. George I think they’re called) with us. Bishop Chris Carpenter, who Mom used to admire because he reminded her of me, led a synod of disparate types of men who all insisted on concelebrating with our bishop Mark Newman of the Antiochean rite.

It struck me that these guys were like kids playing dress up in grown up clothes. The clericalism was palpable. The short guy didn’t smile much (Monsignor?) and he seemed uncomfortable to be among so many gay people. The tallest guy, who wore brown shoes, had the lightest, softest voice.

It was almost laughable.

I behaved myself (I hope my body english wasn’t too obvious) and the evening passed pleasantly enough. I begged off from dinner. Indeed, I’d had a full day and hadn’t had a decent nap. As it was, when I got home, I enjoyed the last of my PF Chang’s garlic chicken and chatted with Joe who failed to hook up the speakers to the television via the stereo and was watching another Diamondback game.

Earlier, at a Dignity board meeting, I offered my house for the Dignity Thanksgiving Mass and Potluck. Looking at a calendar, I see it will be just a couple of days after I return from Tunisia. I may enlist Jaime’s help to get things set up in the house. I warned Joe of my intent for Thanksgiving. He’s debating his plans for the holidays.

Today, after breakfast and prayer, I tackled the doorbell which only rings sporadically (if at all) and I’ve been meaning to replace. The old button was removed with a bit of heavy effort (damn bottom screw head became stripped) and a trip to Ace got me a new button and a new hose. The old front one was falling apart despite my efforts and duck tape to fix it. You get what you pay for.

Replacing the doorbell button necessitated boring a hole in the wood for the wiring. My kingdom for a wood bit! Joe produced Dad’s old hand powered drill (memories, memories) and I bored a hole in the wood  which was close-but-oh-so-far. With some judicious chiseling (again, another Dad tool that Joe produced) I got the button to fit in flush to the wood but the button itself kept sticking. Again, I either had sporadic ringing or not at all. Of course my Parkinson’s really kicked in what with the screwing and chiseling.

Pah! I said, I’m taking it back. So, round two, I grabbed the receipt, the packing, and went back to Ace. I exchanged the button for a new one and voila! with Joe’s help I now have a doorbell that works as it should.

At times like this, life is beautiful.

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