My (almost) 12 Days of Not Writing

I have violated the most sacred rule of writing a blog and building a reading audience.  I have not written daily.  In fact, my last published blog post was December 29th of 2017.

It has been almost 12 days since my last blog post.

In a latent spirit of Christmas, I will try to account for those almost 12 days in an abbreviated short hand akin to “The Twelve Days of Christmas” carol:

On December 30th, a friend and I drove to Knoxville, Tennessee, to stay with her long-time friend, had dinner and went to a record store where I found the Moody Blues’ “Days of Future Passed” album my parents got so sick of hearing when I was 17.  Also got the “Best of Chicago.”  Score!

On December 31st, I drove to Pigeon Forge with my friends, had lunch on the Island, shopped and checked in early at a hotel where, at 3 pm, we all crashed.  As it was sleeting at 9 pm and there was a winter snow advisory, we got rain checks for the “New Year’s Extravaganza” show we had planned to see and watched Lifetime revenge movies on TV.

On January 1st, we shopped the Tanger Outlet and the New Year’s shoe sale at Dillard’s (not as good as last year’s, imho), watched an old Doris Day-Rock Hudson movie and called it a night.

On January 2nd, we drove back to Atlanta, stopping for a Cracker Barrel breakfast on the way.  That night I rested and did what I swore I was never doing again: I watched “The Bachelor” episodes I had missed. Okay, Arie is a little cuter than I remembered.

On January 3rd, I rested. I binge watched the second season of “The Crown” on Netflix and surfed Safari looking up historical facts put forth to see if they were true.  Yes, Queen Elizabeth did meet Billy Graham.  Just maybe not quite as depicted.

On January 4th, I paid some bills, had my hair done, and attended a steering committee meeting for a major event our Church is hosting during Lent featuring a nationally recognized Marian retreat leader, priest and author.  (If you are Catholic and you guessed Fr. Michael Gaitley, I would give you an indulgence; but, I am, sadly, laity.  Sorry.)

On January 5th, I spent 12+ hours on the computer sending out information about above retreat and finishing up materials for a community wide event on the sex trafficking of domestic minors one of my ministry’s is hosting on February 1st.  Time is short on this project.

On January 6th, ditto the above.  Plus I attended Mass where a visiting priest actually quoted T.S. Eliot in his homily.  I thought I had died and gone to literary heaven.

On January 7th, I rested and binge watched the first 10 episodes of “Versailles” on Netflix. I have a feeling when I get around to reading my downloaded edition of “Fire and Fury,” it will seem very familiar in terms of the political backstabbing that went on in the court of Louis XIV – just in a dumbed down version where instead of “magnifique,” it is all the “best”.

On January 8th, I drove a friend to a town about 45 minutes away in the Atlanta suburbs on a personal errand; showed up in time back in the town where I live for a community resource luncheon that was canceled with no notice; had lunch with a ministry colleague at Cracker Barrel (hey, it’s the South, and the lemon peppered rainbow trout is actually pretty good).  I came back home, paid more bills and worked more on my dual projects on the computer before attending a Liturgy Commission meeting in the evening.

Today, January 9th, I spent more time on the computer doing the same as above, answered e-mails, helped update project timeline and task reports, had a mentoring meeting and prepared agendas and treasury report for tomorrow night’s ministry meeting.  Church has become a job.  If I could work, I would be getting paid for what I do.  I have time to do Church ministry work because I cannot work.  Is there a paradox here?

So, now I have actually written a blog post about why I could not write a blog post before now.

Did I mention my back hurts and I can no longer sit for 12 hours behind a computer without pain killers?  So glad the war on opioids has so far passed me by.  The sciatica that is starting to re-plague me cannot be endured without them, or a shot.  And thanks to my Medicare plan, I am still paying off my portion of the last shot in my back I had in August.  So glad this is year 65 and I can get a more comprehensive Medicare plan than has been available to me now.  Provided Congress doesn’t take away what I worked for more than 30 years to help pay for healthcare when I needed it as I aged.  Because apparently being “entitled” to it is a dirty word.

But why would they do that?  It would be as stupid as, say,  cutting corporate taxes that turn out to incentivize corporations to continue investing overseas rather than creating jobs here.  As stupid as our President trying to have a photo-op about jobs! jobs! jobs! that have resulted from “tax cuts,” only to have that company announce major layoffs the next day.  As stupid as having to tell people repeatedly that you are a genius, and not stupid at all.

Nah, they’d never touch my Medicare.  Didn’t Trump promise me and everyone else the same thing?

Trump would never break a promise.  He promised.

And he makes the best promises.  I mean, Mexico is paying for the wall, right?

Thus ends my (almost) 12 days of not writing after Christmas.

May the partridge sleep soundly in the pear tree.  Because Steve Bannon will no longer be sleeping at the “Breitbart Embassy.”  Perhaps we will have peace on earth after all.

 

 

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