And yesterday afternoon, where I will start.  Errands were run, kitchen and foyer swept, then it was to the recliner that I don’t recline in and finish reading “Gossamer Ghost.”  Now this book began that, “it was once again Halloween in New Orleans.”  So you know I was hooked.  The friendship between Carmela and Ava is a hoot and some of their exploits had me laughing out loud.  Carmela is more sedate and Ava is just a plain wild, lovely Cajun.  For example:  one of their crazy French Quarter shopkeeper counterparts rented the Public Belt Railroad train for a Halloween crawl using vintage Pullman cars and asked the two girls to dress as ghosts to help with the tableau.  Carmela is  very creative and artistic and of course came up with the idea for their costumes–ie, visit a vintage dress shop on Magazine Street (really, I don’t go there enough–it’s built up so much since Katrina and it’s frequently described now as SoHo in New Yawk) and look at vintage bridal gowns.  They are guided to the horror poof of the 1980’s wedding gowns upon which Ava has a fit because it’s not sexy enough, but Carmela tells her what she plans to do, i.e., shred them, dirty them, paint them, etc.  So Ava jumps on board.  They take their purchases to Carmela’s sports car and that resourceful young lady says, let’s get started here on our costumes-she grabs some cord out of her trunk, threads it through the two wedding dresses, ties them to the back of the car with the intent to drag them through the streets on the way back to their shops.  This being New Orleans, with two pretty girls in a sports car and two bride dresses dragging down the street behind their car, causes of flurry of attention, especially with men who pass them and shout at them in approval.  Ava eats it all up, and here’s where I laughed out loud:  She said to Carmela, “I haven’t had this many cat calls since I wore my red leather miniskirt and red fishnets stockings to Mass at St. Louis Cathedral.”

“Dear God in heaven,” cried Carmela.  Another one of Ava’s gems when they broke into a suspected villain’s mansion and were nearly caught when he came home.  “Crap on a cracker!”  cried Ava.  Have  to remember that one.

Watched, “The People v OJ Simpson” that I tape each Tuesday.  This was a really good one this week, in depth study of how Johnnie Cochrane intricately played the race card and the crap he did to Christopher Darden.  The Dream Team were one of the biggest galleries of crooked, shyster, high-paid lawyers assembled.  They played dirty and if they were brilliant, it was in such an evil, negative way I wonder what will happen to them all when they stand in God’s courtroom come judgment day.  I wish I could tell Karen Goldman that, poor girl.

This morning went to Mass, did awaken with some pain.  Before Mass told Jesus I was offering this pain and back misery as a penance for Lent and I was appalled to hear his response:  Yes, I do hear Him, not in voices echoing through the room, but in my mine alot.  He told me, “I did not send you this pain; it comes from the Monster.”  Knock me down with a feather.  I know who he means by the Monster.  And then I heard Him say, you are strong enough to fight him.  And I will be at your back.”  When I received Communion, I asked him for my weekly vision.  All I saw was a hand reaching to my forehead, and then entering my forehead somewhere in the region of the pineal gland.  When I came home and put some of the religious Sunday shows on, there was a minister who said all illness and sickness comes from the Evil One. Just now, another minister said how we are under attack by the evil one and put Ephesians 6:10-20 onscreen, one of my favorites passages that I will add in a minute to a post that follows.  Two confirmation messages about being under attack.  I know the Monster is probably especially angry at me for something I did for someone I won’t name but who called me in a panic to see photos of their back filled while they were home alone, with long scratches that just materialized, and a pentagram was also drawn–this stinging pain came while they were angry and cursing.  I gave them St. Benedict medal insignias to put throughout their house, told them to say the prayers to him out loud and bless their house with holy water and rebuke the Monster in Jesus’s name.  i told them to get rid of some cultural symbols they brought from another country.  In addition to calling two priests, my advice was taken and much peace followed.  This is all true; I saw the pictures of the back and there is no way anyone could have done this alone.   I offered my Mass last Sunday for this person. I really have to add that sometimes on Sunday mornings, the pain is at its worse, and I made myself go to 7AM Mass because I seemed to realize this pattern.

Well, what’s cooking today on Sunday?  Chicken, sausage and okra gumbo is bubblng away; I made a broccoli casserole similar to the kale one I made a few Sundays ago; I needed to cook two eggplants, aubergines, before they went bad, so I’ve cubed them and am cooking them down with sun dried tomatoes, Italian herbs and garlic to which I will add bread crumbs and bake.  At the moment, my home smells a little like Central Grocery, Italian and Mediterranean at the same time.

Well, I’m going to watch my taped version of last night’s recent Ghost Adventures. in a few minutes.  Yesterday when I read the windows were open to dazzling sunlight and birdsong and sweet breezes.  We’re going to be blasted with bad weather this week, lots of red on the radar.