The mages who predict the weather seem to be indicating...

That there will be a cold front of sorts in the night; it being, for the second or third day in a row, in the 90s F. at 1700, I shall be quite pleased. It was 91 degrees when I went to bed just before eight o'clock last night (although rather cooler indoors because of the fans and the breezes etc, and the huge block of ice I placed in front of the oscillating fan in my little room).

Is it possible to buy blocks of ice these days, I wonder, such as those that used to be delivered to one's house to keep the ice box icy? No idea.

Have been reading today, or most of it, although I had some housekeeping chores to attend to. Monday morning, in the coolness of the morning, I baked coffeecakes, in order to use up the over-supply of blueberries I managed to stumble into (who knew two pounds of berries were so many?), and I may do the same again tomorrow and put them, baked, into the freezer. They began as a box of prepared mix meant for one eight inch square baking pan divided into two; much of the second one is still attracting flies in the kitchen: the landlady won't eat it because of her diabetes, she says, and I am rather over it. It should've gone into the freezer but I was so impressed by my baking skills (he successfully adapted the recipe! he didn't burn the cakes! and, perhaps most signally, he figured out how to work the electronic controls of the oven!) that I couldn't bring myself to do that-- don't think I had baked anything at all in, well, in years, certainly not since I've lived in this house. Am of half a mind to progress to some more signficant baking project for next Monday.

St Bonaventura's Itinerarium mentis in Deum is going well but very slowly, much more slowly than it would have read ten or fifteen years ago: my Latin is as out of shape as my body is, I guess, but it's also true I simply haven't read much 12th century theology since the turn of the millennium. Deo gratias, it cannot be afflicted by those other corporeal weaknesses--  osteoarthritis and so forth-- that I live with. Integralism proceeds; two sections today.

It occurred to me this morning that I hadn't been to the site Parler in days. Having established itself as a quasi-alternative to Twitter, well, while Twitter may indeed be taking liberties with serious actors in politics-cum-marketing who don't toe the line people such as the ones I typically pay attention to are beneath the commissars' radar, even though some of them share my outrageous opinions.

An alteration in the routine in the morning. A blood draw at 0700, after which I will be well-positioned to take advantage of the city bus that will get me downtown for Holy Mass at 0800, tomorrow being the feast of St Mary Magdalene.

I cannot say which of the two possible of the three hymns proper to the feast that is (the Matins hymn is two stanzas, including the doxology). It from the Office as sung in Hungary, so am not even sure if it is one of the ones in the Roman Office, and of course the Hungarotron recordings, eh, well, it is enough to say that the texts are not posted along with the recordings at YouTube. I believe it is Summi Parentis unice, that was Aeterni Patris unice before Pope Urban VIII got his classicizing hands on it, sung in the Roman Office at Lauds. The Liber hymnarius is no use to me because it includes two entirely different hymns than those traditionally used. Dr DiPippo at New Liturgical Movement mentions in passing that "there are also three proper hymns, although that of Matins is a single stanza and a doxology". There are several posts, however, but I haven't the patience to search through them all this evening. It is in fact a degree cooler than an hour ago but two flies are attempting to make my head explode in frustration occasioned by my inability to squash them.