First Sunday of Lent, and the Great Litany in Procession.
A long nap instead of lunch.
Phone visit with a dear and long-time friend.
Three hours of work at the office.
A pleasant recital at 4 in Moore Auditorium.
Two loads of laundry.
Steak and baked potato for dinner.
Evening Prayer for Lent I.
Samson is now needing attention and pampering. My fireplace calls.
And so another Sunday ends.
Truth be told, I only had off eight working days over the past two fortnights. Such is the life of an administrator.
And over the holiday break between semesters, I’ve dealt with a dozen and a half church services, a few days away with family, a leak in the bathroom, a dead dishwasher, cabinets falling off the kitchen wall, and prep for the foundation repair that starts tomorrow.
Three Webster kids descended at 5.25 p.m. tonight to help. Twenty minutes later, they had moved everything in the basement that needed moving. I fed them homemade lasagna and panna cotta in thanks.
I also coached five students today on audition music for tomorrow’s theatre auditions at Webster.
Tonight? Downton Abbey, and putting my latest choral music in Finale.
Pics from the week:
1. Six days prior to Christmas, the kitchen cabinets almost came a-tumblin’ down.
2. Five days prior to Christmas, the dishwasher is on the fritz.
3. Four days prior to Christmas, a pipe in the basement has a leak.
4. A week after Christmas, I pay the down-payment on the foundation repair. I could be buying a new car for what this costs.
5. A week after Christmas, I sign a contract on a new roof for the back porch, and for some repairs on the garage, including security upgrades.
6. A week after Christmas, on the very same day as 4. and 5. above, I am standing in five inches of water in the bathtub by the time the shower is over.
7. A week after Christmas, yet the same day, the reputable plumber puts his snake through an aging pipe, and I have nasty water running through the dining room ceiling and onto the floor. And a promise that some new plumbing (and tearing up of the upstairs bathroom floor) is going to occur very soon. And I’m without a shower at home.
On this day, the UN announced that the death toll in Syria is now over 60,000. My little problems are petty, although irksome. I’m grateful that I have the blessing of the financial wherewithal to deal with these problems. If I have to work for another year or two to pay the debt, then I’ll teach until I’m 80 rather than 77. Such is life.
Direct us, O Lord, in all our doings with thy most gracious favor, and further us with thy continual help; that in all our works begun, continued, and ended in thee, we may glorify thy holy Name, and finally, by thy mercy, obtain everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The holiday season has arrived at Chez Carter. Samson’s ornament is on the tree. Also on the tree are numerous ornaments created by mother, one painted by Aunt Esther many years ago, mementos of shows and casts, ornaments purchased on my various trips around the world, and gifts from students and friends over nearly 30 years of adult life. This tree is filled with memories as well as life. (But the tree itself, of course, is a pre-lit factory creation, most likely made in a shop in China.)
I live on a block of Lawn Place with very few children. Two doors down lives a high school girl. Way up on the other end lives a family with several schoolchildren. But most of us are single folk, or couples whose children have grown and moved.
But then there are the delightful two across the street. One of them was two years old when I moved here; she’s now starting school this year. And her younger brother is now a fast-moving two-year-old.
Three doors away, we now have a new addition to the neighborhood, as the couple there have welcomed a baby. Just this week I saw the father walking down the sidewalk, a little bundle of pink in his arms. He and talked for a few minutes; she’s one month old and adorable. I’ve seen both parents walking their daughter after a meal, just strolling on the sidewalk in this blessedly temperate weather, hoping for her to burp and then sleep.
I could get used to seeing families with small children on this block . . . .