And grey and cloudy. Wonderful; we may get the weekend rains after all. Today is the feast of Saint George, Martyr; yes, that Saint George, slayer of dragons. Holy Mass (Introibo) is streamed from Saint-Eugène later on, at the usual hour of 1000. There goes the oven-- pre-heating is accomplished so I had better get the cornbread and fish ready to go.
Post Sextam. After making some of what are called 'flash cards' to help cement the proper pronunciations of Greek vowels and diphthongs into my poor head, I caught up on reading... I will confess, I wasted a certain amount of time on the Coulombe nonsense (Charles Coulombe is a Catholic writer of peculiar opinions-- he's a royalist, to start with); an essayist (the famous and secretly much decorated 'Anonymous'), at the beginning of the year, suggested, inter alia, that Coulombe may be a practicing occultist and Tarot-card reader. There is a video online of him confessing his crimes (well, 'California confessing', anyway) because of a self-appointed clerical inquisitor's denunciation; if I hadn't suspected his very public Catholicness of being at least in some part theatre that video would've raised the possibility in my mind. The proper conclusion is that some people, his critics, have too much time on their hands; I'd advise Coulombe to find a new pastime, though. Whist is a game he might appreciate. To None, and then dinner.
It is also the feast of Saint Adalbert (10th century), of Saint Gerard (10th century), and of Saint Aethelred (9th century).
V. Et álibi aliórum plurimórum sanctórum Mártyrum et Confessórum, atque sanctárum Vírginum. R. Deo grátias.