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Dec 16

Sunday train of thought

Posted on Sunday, December 16, 2012 in Family, Strange and Unusual

It’s a pity he has tonsillitis and a cold, he would’ve loved this. Such a toddler with such a strong constitution shouldn’t be on antibiotics but they bullied me into it. The guilt. The fresh air and the tea-cakes would have fixed him up good, I know it, he’s already bouncing off the walls even though he’s sick. But nobody listens! They call me right-wing. I worry that his immune system will let any-old-anything in, now that he’s had his first taste of penicillin.

The mass. I love it. I never went before last October, not totally convinced that Catholicism has its place in the world. ‘Through my most grievous fault I have sinned’ is what they chant but I don’t join in, I’m not sure my faults are all that bad and I’m pretty sure whatever God is up there will understand. If it doesn’t I guess I’m just on my own and I’m okay with that. I just realised today that all of this doesn’t really mean anything, it’s just something people do. I moved my lips, just in case anybody was looking. I don’t know why I care though, and I’m pretty sure the others with their strained toddlers and funny coats  feel the same way.

It’s what people do to be together, this, the chanting.

Today there were flasks of tea after mass. I made shortbread and made Puppychild pass it around. There were almond biscuits and cupcakes with pink stuff on top and fruitcake slices and fizzy lemonade. A party held by the choir in which I find myself betwixt… the entity I just joined because of my Grandma, because they recognised my genes and thought I’d be the same maybe. They tasted my shortbread and although it tasted good (as it MUST do being mainly a buttery thing) it didn’t taste as good as Muriel’s. I could tell. I can’t sing as well as Granny. And I can’t draw like her. But they still love me and trust me because I have her blood. Or maybe they just like new blood… I can’t tell.

I took Puppychild up to her grave afterwards.

There was a carcass up there, near her grave. It was picked clean. Some large vegetarian thing, its skull and ribs exposed, a dead body in a graveyard with no home, taking the piss out of the carved granite slabs around it. Puppychild was nervous that such a carnivore could exact such horribleness on a creature but I told her that everything would be okay, that I’d yell at anything that came to eat us. It was a sunny morning, if anything came to eat us I’m guessing it would’ve been a good death.

It’s a murky afternoon now, and I’ve no idea what do do with myself.

I feel like making something out of papier-maché. A roast chicken dinner that nobody can eat, maybe.

Or a blog post that doesn’t mean anything.

Or vegetable soup, to give structure to strained immunities.

Or I could just stare into the fridge for an hour or two.

Or pick dog hairs from matchboxes.

Or phone a friend…

Or doze.

I’m thankful for such choices, life is good.

Bring on the comments

  1. Kirk M says:

    Sunday train of comments.

    Not to worry about about the penicillin, K8. A single run of the stuff won’t touch the immune system and tonsillitis is nothing to trust to fresh air and tea-cakes. A 3 year bout of rheumatic fever from an untreated strep throat infection taught me that (I had just turned 6). It’s parents who stuff antibiotics into their child every time they look like they might sneeze that kill the child’s immune system. Once in awhile when it’s really needed is fine.

    Yup, church is something people do–that’s it. God says, “Build not a temple unto me” and what’s the first things we went and did? Then we played Bingo in it. God sighed and tried again. “Alright then…try this one on for size. Do not worship false idles.” Now China cranks out millions of little plastic crucified Christs a day. So not to worry about your few faults. We all have them including me. But one thing I don’t have is a little plastic “Made in China” crucified Jesus glued onto the dashboard of my car.

    Don’t keep comparing yourself to others. It causes indigestion. This business of I don’t (name of whatever) as well as (name of person) does is a waste of time. You do what you do best and no one is better at being you than you. And I’ll bet I don’t look as good as you do in a pretty summer dress–so what? Am I depressed? I think not.

    Life is indeed good. It’s always our own outlook that becomes off kilter now and then. And you have friends, even if one is one heck of a long swim away. ;-)

  2. Ginger Mick says:

    Yeah! What he said.

  3. Kirk M says:

    Okay, so it was late and spelled idols wrong (false idles?!!?). Good grief! Talk about ruining a good comment.

  4. Ian says:

    I often wonder what some of the people in my churches believe – if anything, but that’s Protestants for you, suspicious of anything religious.

  5. K8 says:

    Kirk M; Hello hello! Thanks for commenting so fluidly, sorry for such a big delay in replying but it’s been slowly mental around here.
    Little Sir has bounced back with no problems but it’s me who’s hung on to his cold, maybe because my immune system is no stranger to antibiotics. Or it could be all the damn tobacco being consumed… or the rushing around. Medicine is a fickle thing.
    I’m not sad about being inferior, because it was my Grandmother and I’m sure I can’t catch up with her because she was a great lady and I’m fine with that, I’m loved in different ways and I’m sure she’d envy my ways too if she were still here. On her pedestal she’ll stay, and I’ll laugh about it with her someday I’m sure in whatever afterlife there’ll be.
    I want a nodding Jesus for my dashboard. I like that he’d approve of my potholes.

    Ginger Mick; It’s what he didn’t say! That’s what Jazz is, they tell me.

    Ian; I bet you already know what your parishioners think, and that’s probably why they still listen to you. Religion is more than rules, it’s community, and togetherness and that’s beautiful no matter what you believe.

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