Last evening but it didn't much warm up in the later afternoon and the rain clouds lowered until nightfall; I've had the heater on this morning. Am glad to see (having looked online) that it's not just my bones aching, which after all is presumably a fairly subjective measure of the warmth in the air or its lack: 37 degrees F. Perhaps we'll have a second snowfall after all; would have to take photographs. It is the feast of the Apparition of Saint Michael the Archangel today [Introibo, CE ('Well known is the apparition...'), Wiki] but alas Saint-Eugène, presuming that I've read their calendar aright, isn't streaming the Mass-- Saturdays seem to be 'non-streaming days'.
Tomorrow, the French state holiday in honor of Saint Joan of Arc is celebrated and Saint-Eugène will stream that Mass. (The Church celebrates la Pucelle on the 30th but the state holiday-- 'the French civic holiday, la fête du patriotisme, in her honour, set in 1920, is the second Sunday of May'-- is solemnized also.)
Such a beautiful morning! A pleasant walk, birds singing, flowers blooming, squirrels cavorting in the trees. The lady at the supermarket, S., who is often there at the opening hour when I do my shopping, seems to have recovered her wonted friendliness; she was absent for a few days and since she's been back has been, to say the least, gruff. I knew it wasn't me-- there may be many items under my name on Saint Peter's list of debits and misdemeanors but have never been anything other than perfectly gracious to S.-- so it was disconcerting; people are, after all, often enough preoccupied with their own troubles in such a way that they neglect the politenesses necessary to keep society chugging along peaceably or at least not riotously.
The evening before last a Twitter acquaintance was demonstrating his 3D printer via photographs and a bit of video. I didn't know what the machine was-- he was going on about 'printing a dog', mystifying me; I asked the wrong question or two before finally looking up the manufacturer's name (visible on the machina) online. Ah ha! As I texted to him, I don't think I'd ever seen one of them at work and I know I haven't seen one in life offline, nor did I have any definite ideas about how they do their business.
Thursday night when I went away from Twitter, there was nothing to see apart from the arm moving back and forth and what must have been, with the benefit of hindsight, the first increments of the base of the figure; he reported that the entire process took about 90 minutes. When I thought to check in last night, was pleased to see the finished object; quite as perfectly doggish as the plastic dog one might buy at the plastic figures store although obviously its eyes and ears and tail tip weren't painted in lifelike colors. Presumably one can do more useful things with the machina than make dogs but I didn't ask-- he might be having an adult toy, for all I know. I asked, joking, if it could print a pre-1910 Roman Breviary; that you can print guns but not breviaries might serve as the text of a lesson about technology, perhaps, although I can't see how to proceed.
Post Nonam. Was reading Jay Nordlinger in the May New Criterion earlier and smiled at his remark, "to speak personally, maybe too personally, I have always detested this song"-- 'this song' being Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven. That has always been my own judgment. It is true that I get Stairway to Heaven and many of Rod Stewart's songs mixed up, particularly Tonight's the Night. When I hear the term 'pop culture' I reach for my revolver.
Ante Completorium. The British television serials that I have any interest in, I've watched through years ago. Am now on what I believe is my second tour of Dalziel and Pascoe. Have been watching this evening and reached the episode that prompted my passing interest, kindled who knows how long ago, in the annual number of deaths by cow-- would have never remembered the connexion with the series if I hadn't seen this show again.
It is also the feast of Saint Ida (7th century), of Saint Godo (7th century), and of Saint Wiro (8th century).
V. Et álibi aliórum plurimórum sanctórum Mártyrum et Confessórum, atque sanctárum Vírginum. R. Deo grátias.
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