Reflections On My Small(for now) World

View From Command Central–taken with old point and shoot. Our patio is caged so we are protected from golf balls.

w patio cage

w baby quail



w flowers w hummer

The weather is too nice to stay under the covers.  But what is a person to do with just one working hand? Dear Readers–have you ever tried to open a long-necked Bud with only one hand??? It doesn’t work! Since blog pecking is so difficult I wandered back through my early posts–back in 2007 when I was still with Blogspot. ( I was struck by how many of my posts involved  church observations. No longer.

Since moving to SeniorLand in the middle of Lib Wine Country I have dragged my 12 Faithful Readers through my attempts to play golf, spending our children’s inheritance on camera gear and overcoming my irrational fear of firearms. All those things require two hands. So, I will go back to church stories.

Byrdie died just before western Easter and I was in despair so I decided to slip in the back of the church for the Holy Thursday liturgy. (Readers will remember this church, famous for its Bolshoi Jesus– The lovely custom of decorating the church with loads of flowers appears to have fallen by the wayside. Sigh. The priest began with the obligatory joke from the back of the church. A faux 60ies song was attempted. And then came the foot washing.

The chairs were placed in the front of the pews in a triangle. The plan is that the priest will sit in the top chair and two parishioners will face each other in the lower two chairs. The priest washed the first two pairs of feet then just stood up and walked off and went to his seat behind the altar. He had not bothered to turn off his mic so we all got to hear him mutter, “I feel like a bartender!” as he snapped the drying towel off his shoulders.

What is the proper liturgical response to that?  “And with your spirits?” Nervous laughter spouted from various pews. The rest of the volunteer feet weren’t quite sure what to do so they ended up washing each other’s feet and hurrying away. I slipped away back into the welcome darkness that let me hide a fresh rush of tears.


About mamatoc

A Baby Boomer learning to live in a retirement community in California.
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