And at every break in the cover of the trees during the second half of my walk I broke out into showers of perspiration; the weather mages predict cooler weather than yesterday's and today's mid-90s from tomorrow but we shall see.
It is the Octava of Saint Lawrence Martyr and Archdeacon of Rome, and the 3rd day infra Octavam of Our Lady's Assumption. The feast of the Confessor Saint Hyacinth; the Mass Os iusti is taken from the common of confessors not bishops.
A comment on Facebook earlier:
In 1899, The Atlantic published an article by then-Harvard president Charles Eliot (cousin of TS Eliot) that openly attacked Jesuit education as an ossified holdover of medieval times, useless for modern society, and intrinsically anti-American, but they refused to publish any rebuttals written by a Jesuit (the best was by Fr. Timothy Brosnahan, president of Boston College) due to anti-Catholic prejudice. It's been pretty bad for a while now, but at least people are starting to notice more that The Atlantic has always been publishing garbage.
I've read this or that not-garbage in The Atlantic on occasion but if they continue publishing Daniel Panneton's nonsense what is left of their reputation as a serious periodical journal will vanish.
The weather mages are suggesting the possibility of rain in a few minutes and then later on in the afternoon, too, which I find incredible. They also say that the relative humidity is about 40% at the moment when my body feels more like it is 95%-- this may be because I'm just returned from an adventure. Hmm. It has become quite cloudy.
For the first time in however many years I have lived in my little room in this dilapidated house I managed to let the dog escape through the front door. Tsk. Surprisingly enough, he returned very quickly, within the minute, I mean, whether because my powerful mental command (I was in fact momentarily speechless) was irresistible or (and this is more likely) because the supermarket delivery driver (whose arrival was the occasion of the open front door) tried to beguile it, with his car door open, putting the fear of something into the dog's memory that prompted it to return to its proper home, I don't know. In any event, Mistress my Landlady, I didn't have to shout at the dog for ten minutes or go hunting for him throughout the neighborhood.
Hope I tipped that driver well; this happens when one pays up front on the grocery store website and I didn't pay attention to which box I checked, tsk, which really isn't a good idea.
Am listening to Hélène Grimaud perform Rachmaninoff's Sonata no 2 op 36 and have just now noticed her photograph on the image of the album cover at Spotify; she looks to be about 13. January 2010 is given as the release date. According to Wikipedia, Mme Grimaud was more or less 41 in 2010, so this must a re-issue or else the producers thought the image of the teenage prodigy would sell better than one of the mature artist; who knows.
Now Phoebus is showing his face again, eh.
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