Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.  I love Sundays.  7 AM Mass, so beautiful, sang what I think is my favorite hymn, Shepherd Me O God.

Sitting in the living room last night, slowly sipping a Jack on ice, with my porch lights twinkling, I noticed the night sky outside had a creamy film to it’s midnight blue color; went out on the porch, and there was La Lune, almost full, but luminous, white and fat, glowing to the song of the crickets and night insects, the sound of which seems to pulse and rise on the steamy heat along with the smell of earth and grass.  Summer in New Orleans–almost–first day is tomorrow.  But the streets are now  filled with crape myrtle trees that I will again say are pregnant with their blooms; lavender, fuchsia, pink;white; my favorites are the lavenders.  The caladium have gone mad in the shade.

Everything is cooking.  Found the hugest, leanest sirloin steak at Zupp’s yesterday for under $10 yesterday, marinated it all night and cooked it in mushrooms and red wine to med. rare; cooling now.  That will be a few meals this week; roasting chicken in a spicy New Orleans sauce made with spices, melted smart balance and Worcestershire for other meals in the week;  Added a veggie kabob atop the chicken.  Zupps’ had those pale purple little eggplants I love so much, so I made Romeo’s Cuban dish haven’t had in a while–the little eggplants, zucchini, onion, garlic and a red potato cooked together into an almost puree–to which I added thyme and oregano from my garden.  Last night dinner was a light, pleasant thing that was very satisfying; some slabs of smoked Jarlsberg (sodium, cholesterol light); I had bought some soft mozzarella, cut some of it into squares, and added sun dried tomatoes with pesto and smeared this on salt free melba toast; yellow lentil hummus; cucumber hummus.

Started reading, “Keepers of the House” in earnest yesterday.  Last read it when I was seventeen; skimmed it again years later without a good sit down read.  Know now that although I had liked it very much as a teen, I didn’t appreciate its full value till now.  Now that I’ve experienced my own personal epiphany the year I was seventeen later that led me to choices, put me on a path, opened my mind, heart and soul.  Then, when I read this book before all of that,  I hadn’t yet hiked in mountains, marshes, woods; hadn’t met Earl yet, hadn’t really fallen in love; in other words, I read this before I blended with the universe.  Reading it now, I am relishing every word, every story; it’s earthy and mystical at the same time, like, I suppose life really is; I hadn’t yet back at 17 begun to disseminate the warmth and ties to creation I felt during the times in the country, listening to family stories; all of it’s value came rushing back at me later when I could realize the gift that had been given me.  And this book is a testament that much I have come to understand, all those quiet little intimacies, with all God created, all the signs He sends; well, I’ll stop blathering about it now; don’t know why that book crossed my mind after all these years this past week, but I see where I needed to read it once again.  You know, I don’t think anyone would publish this book, a book of this quality today; really don’t think so.  Suggestion:  if you haven’t read it, I think you’d like it very much.  Much of this is very real to me, a kind of hail back to roots so to speak.

Happy Father’s Day!  I say that to you, and to my father.  I offered Mass for him today and thanked him for everything.  Teared up a bit, but still.  So, Happy Father’s Day to you, too, Ole’ Blue, you’re a good Dad, you.

 

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