A powerful prayer on St. Patrick's Day

...or any other day.

Supposedly written in 433 C.E. (Common Era, a way of not having to say A.D., Anno Domini, In The Year Of Our Lord) by Patrick himself.

There are many presentations of it online, but I like

this one

best.

Third rock from the sun

My annual trip around Old Sol has two more days to go and then another one begins, regular as clockwork. Round and round she goes I go, and where I stop, nobody knows. What I'm trying to say is that my birthday is day after tomorrow, at which point I will be 9/10ths of the way through another decade on planet Earth.

79. It has a nice ring to it, especially when you consider that my mother died at 47 and my father died at 60. My maternal grandfather, though, died just three months shy of his 96th birthday, and my goal is to outlive him.

As they were saying in New Orleans a couple of weeks ago, Laissez les bontemps roulez!

In other news, Governor Brian Kemp here in Georgia left it up to individual church leaders whether to close or remain open for Sunday services. Several of the humongous megachurches around Atlanta decided to suspend services and do online streaming instead. Northpoint (Andy Stanley), Free Chapel (Jentezen Franklin), and Passion City Church (Louis Giglio) were among them. Last New Year's Eve, Passion City sponsored a college/career-age night at the new Mercedes Benz stadium in Atlanta and 65,000 people showed up. The woman who is bishop of the North Georgia Conference of the United Methodist CHurch decided that all Methodist churches should close regardless of their size. The little Methodist church we attended for several years has about 75 people attending, and many of them are elderly, so they complied with their bishop's suggestion/orders and did their first-ever online "Lenten reflection" (as their pastor called it). The church we currently attend, not Methodist, normally runs between 250 and 300 in Sunday morning service and Pastor Chuck and the board of elders decided to remain open. We went, as did about 100 others. Many decided to stay home and watch via Facebook.

As of today, Georgia has had 121 cases of COVID-19 and one death. The man who died had been a greeter at a large church in a town about 25 miles from us. Two weeks ago that church had a special Sunday to honor and recognize their choir director who was retiring after 30 years. Before he went to that church he had been our choir director for five years (at the church we used to attend and now are attending again) so several current and former members made it a point to attend. I'm sure the greeters were shaking lots of visitors' hands that Sunday. A friend of ours, Tom B. (who is 69, lives about three miles from us, and attended that church that Sunday with his wife) is now on a ventilator in a local hospital and in isolation awaiting the results of his COVID-19 test from the CDC. If you are a praying person, please pray for Tom.

I didn't mean to end on a down note, but it is what it is. Life goes on, except when it doesn't.

As I was saying, Laissez les bontemps roulez.

As if we didn't have enough to worry about

...now there's this.

A reading plan to keep your mind busy and even distracted during your self-quarantine

You must like words or you wouldn't be reading blogposts and writing your own blogposts, so as a service to word-lovers everywhere who are either considering self-quarantine during the coronovirus scare or have already taken the plunge, here is a reading plan to keep your mind busy and even distracted:

Day 1 - "21 Rhetorical Devices Explained"

Day 2 - "43 Embarrassing Grammar Mistakes Even Smart People Make"

Day 3 - "The Four Desires Driving All Human Behavior"

Day 4 - "How Non-English Speakers Are Taught This Crazy English Grammar Rule You Know But Have Never Heard Of"

Days 5 through 14 - One story a day from this collection of 10 short stories by Flannery O'Connor (see Note)

You're welcome.

At the end of the 14 days, one of two things may happen. Either your mind will have been so expanded that your own family will no longer recognize you, or you will never again be tempted to consider putting yourself through a 14-day self-quarantine period. In rare instances, both will happen

Whatever happens, I cannot be held responsible.

-------------------------------------------------------
Note. The 10 stories by Flannery O’Connor are all in one long scrollable file. To make things a bit easier for those of you who actually want to read them, here are their locations within the file. You should know that not all of the stories begin at the top of a page:

A Good Man Is Hard To Find - p.5
The River - p.33
The Life You Save May Be Your Own - p.64
A Stroke Of Good Fortune - p.84
A Temple Of The Holy Ghost - p.106
The Artificial Nigger - p.129
A Circle In The Fire - p.166
A Late Encounter With The Enemy - p.199
Good Country People - p.217
The Displaced Person - p.253

STOP THE PRESSES!! I'm not normal

Vice President Pence and his Coronavirus Task Force (CTF or CVTF, take your pick) have been appearing daily on the telly to remind us to cover our mouths when we cough (or to cough into our elbows); to use a tissue when we sneeze (and then throw it away); and to wash, wash, wash our hands (with SOAP and WATER for AT LEAST 20 SECONDS). They also give us updates on the number of new cases of COVID-19 and the number of deaths due to it. I'm certainly glad to get the reminders, because without them I would cough into my ankle, keep and probably frame all the used tissues, and wash my hands with prune juice for hours on end.

I'm kidding. I usually wash my hands with orange juice.

Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate the efforts of the powers that be to give us accurate information and prevent panic among the public unless it is warranted, which they keep assuring us it isn't. But the members of the media seem hell-bent on making all 350 million of us run out to buy toilet paper, bread, milk, face masks -- you know, the basic necessities of life. But when one of the chief cooks and bottle washers doctors, an otherwise very nice 60-ish man sporting a beard and wearing glasses and possessing a couple of advanced degrees, was asked by a reporter yesterday to identify the groups really at risk, he said something that really got my goat, got my dander up, ticked me off big-time, and made me rather angry, actually.

I wish I could quote him exactly but I'm going to have to paraphrase. There are two groups who will be most affected by COVID-19, he said, young children whose immune defense systems have not yet been fully developed and the elderly, especially if they are infirm or have serious health issues already involving the heart or lungs. He defined elderly as 80 or older. I'm okay with that. Then he said, "Normal people like you and me don't have to worry" or “don’t need to be concerned” or something not only inane but downright insulting.

We are a two-person household. One of us is 84 and the other will be 79 in a couple of weeks. The one who will be 79 is the one with existing health issues, specifically coronary artery disease and the current possessor of five stents. The one who is 84 has had two artificial knees made of titanium for 13 years now, which fact allows us to have a tag to hang from the car's rear-view mirror that permits us to park in handicapped parking spaces, but that is different in my book from being infirm.

I'm okay with being called elderly. I'm okay with having health issues. They eventually happen to many of us, even 60-ish doctors who sport beards and have advanced degrees.

What I'm not okay with -- actually I resent -- is being told I am not normal.

I'm normal. I wash my hands with soap and water every day without being told to and I have not framed a used tissue for quite some time.

I put my pants on one leg at a time just like George Clooney. He just gets to do it more often than I do.

I used to use Burt Reynolds in that joke, but since he died he doesn't put on pants any more.

If you prefer to say Leonardo DiCaprio or Kanye West or even Mayor Pete Buttigieg, feel free.

We normal people have to stick together.

Bernie Sanders and Joe Biden need not apply.

This used to be a historic day

...but it isn't any more.

George Washington was inaugurated as the first president of the United States on April 30, 1789, but all other presidential inaugurations occurred on March 4 through the first inauguration of our 32nd president, Franklin D. Roosevelt on March 4, 1933. Soon afterwards, the 20th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution changed the date to January 20, on which date they (presidential inaugusrations) have occurred ever since.

March 4th is not any more important nowadays than, say, August 19th.

So much for historical minutiae.

On with the show.

I said the other day that I would try not to draw inspiration for future posts from the comments section of earlier posts, but yesterday's was just so darned inspirational I have disabused myself of that notion, at least temporarily. Besides, I consider it my solemn duty to keep you informed if you are the sort of reader who never bothers to comment or look at the comments of others. You know who you are.

Graham Edwards, who lives in Eagleton Township seven miles from the town of Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, a remote area of Scotland, took me to task for advocating the making of a soup other than ab initio as he called it (Latin for "from scratch", loosely translated). I am chastened. I have been put in my place culinarily speaking by a higher order of being.

Bonnie from Missouri thought the soup sounded good and said she was all for a meal that is quick and easy (take that, Graham Edwards!) but then changed subjects and started talking about the Democratic primary. To be fair, I did mention Joe Biden in the post. Yesterday was Super Tuesday on which 14 states held primaries, and according to some it is now all over but the shouting. According to others, the fun is just beginning and will culminate in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in July at the brokered-or-not Democratic convention. Georgia's presidential primary is not until March 24th. For those of you in other countries, the purpose of a primary is to choose delegates to a political party's national convention based on which candidate they support.

Red in Alberta or Saskatchewan or wherever he is pointed out that I had included ideas for six other posts in the first six sentences of the post. It tires me out just thinking about how unthinkingly creative I am (Note to self: Remember that Mama always said, "Don't break your arm patting yourself on the back."). I told Red not to hold his breath as my posts are not planned but spring full-grown like Athena from the forehead of Zeus.

Alphie Soup took issue with me for calling it a 5-can soup but then saying in a postscript that there were six cans. Alphie Soup is a sharp-eyed reader and also a higher being on the order of Graham Edwards, but I'm not complaining. I need all the readers I can get.

Kathy in Virginia said my post made her laugh and wished my grandson a happy belated birthday although I think she meant a belated happy birthday.

Yorkshire Pudding, irascible as ever, left a recipe of his own, which I now share with you, my non-comment-reading friends:

BEANS ON TOAST
1. Open can of Heinz baked beans.
2. Heat the beans in a pan or microwave.
3. Toast bread.
4. Butter toast.
5. Put toast on plate.
6. Put baked beans on the toast.
7. Eat the beans on toast.

This is not so much a recipe as it is an elementary flowchart one would be asked to create on the first day of computer programming class.

Some of you will recall that at the end of the post in question, I stopped myself from bidding you a fondue and bid you a fond adieu instead.

This time I will do something completely different. I bid you all a...

and if you are wondering, I just bid you all a Fonda do.

A final question: Do you enjoy these summaries of reader comments or should I find a new hobby?

Having the blahs

The skies are overcast, the day is dreary, and a cold rain is beginning to fall. I am completely uninspired today.

I could tell you that today, March 2nd, is Texas Independence Day but I have done that in other years.

Or I could tell you about the big black dog, probably Labrador, that has been appearing in our yard for the last few days, but I am hoping it will go away. Quietly.

Or I could tell you that my flower beds are in dire need of pinestraw now that spring is almost here, but I don't want to have to think about that right now.

Or I could tell you that it is my youngest grandson's birthday today, that he is 19 and nearly finished his first year at university, but that would be self-indulgent.

I could quote to you from Robert Browning's Song From Pippa Passes and tell you "God's in His heaven; all's right with the world."

But the world at present is reeling from the rapidly spreading threat of the coronavirus; Turkey's President Erdogan is letting all sorts of refugees, Syrian and otherwise, go through his country on their way to Greece and other parts of Europe who don't want them; and Joe Biden just won the Democratic Party primary in South Carolina, so nothing looks hopeful in those areas.

I think I'll go out in the garden and eat worms.

Oh, speaking of food, Mrs. RWP saw an interesting and easy-to-make recipe for soup on an insert in our monthly electric bill. She made it and it is DELICIOUS!

If you must know, it is called "5 can soup" and the ingredients are one can of Progresso ready-to-serve Minestrone soup, one can of black beans (drained and rinsed), one can of whole corn, one can of mixed vegetables, and one can of petite diced tomatoes.

That's it. You mix all the ingredients together in a pot and heat on medium heat until warm. Serve topped with shredded cheddar cheese and sour cream, to taste. It makes about six very hearty-sized servings, so that is three meals for the two of us. I was always good at math.

And that's it. No preparation required other than opening the five cans and remembering to drain and rinse the black beans. Serve with a few saltine crackers and you're set.

Dear God, my blog has been reduced to handing out recipes.

P.S. - The recipe said that adding a tablespoon of salsa in the soup was optional. We opted not to.

P.P.S. - In retrospect, how six cans of ingredients yields only six bowls of soup is beyond me and even a little bit scary, but that is what heppened.

I hope my next post will be a bit more fun, engaging your mind with fascinating subjects, stirring your senses with unexpected delight, provoking your gray matter with new possibilities.

Until then, I bid you a fondue fond adieu.

Now go forth and multiply make soups of your own.