Tempos Fugit

The Feast of St. Michael and All Angels, otherwise known as Michaelmas, came off without a hitch on Saturday.  I roasted two geese and Ellen made calico beans and eighteen other guests each brought a dish to share, so there was plenty indeed.  We prayed a serious militant prayer to St. Michael and sang a silly parody of Amazing Grace called Amazing Goose (how sweet the flesh . . . I’m saved from penury).  Keeping the holiday promised that you will have sufficient funds for the next year, and so far (about thirty-five years!) it has worked for us.

Tomorrow I will spend the afternoon and early evening being instructed in the running of the voting polls in our precinct – I’m an election judge again this year.  It’s not a really difficult job, but it’s going to be a very long day in November from six-thirty am to about nine pm, setting up the polls to the final count.  This is going to be an important election, please remember to vote.

Work on Tying the Knot continues slowly – but it continues.  Hurrah!

And the cat Java continues to teach me tricks.  She will get in front of me and fall on her side, stretching herself fore and aft and looking meaningly up at me.  She wants me to tickle her tummy from between her legs forward up her chin and back again, then stroke along her back, neck to tail a couple of times. Amazing how an animal without speaking a word can make her needs so clear.

I will turn seventy-five the middle of this month.  I’m not sure how it happened, I’ve always thought of myself somewhere in my late thirties, perhaps early forties.  Seventy-five is old!