My back makes it painful to move. I keep trying to remember what I might have done to cause this but nothing comes to mind. The pain started yesterday. This morning, I grabbed anything close like door knobs so I could move forward. Getting down the stairs took a while.
Last night it rained. I was glad when I heard the drops on the back window. It has been a dry couple of months.
Today is perfectly lovely. Out the window, I can see the blue sky through the leaves of the oak tree. The sun is bright and beautiful. I am going nowhere today. Yesterday I went to Agway. Well, I drove by Agway. The parking lot was filled. I went to Hart Farm. The parking lot was filled. I went to Ring’s Market. Surprise, surprise, the parking lot was full. I went home. I had been riding around for a half hour. I ordered my groceries on line. They came a couple of hours later. The flowers will have to wait until tomorrow.
In the summer, on Sundays. when I was a kid, I did everything I could to avoid the actual mass. It took some planning. The mass with the most people was the early one. I tried to get there as late as I could before the mass started. I wanted there to be full pews, no room for sitting. Standing room only was in the entry way. It overflowed to the stairs. That’s where I sat.
In Ghana, at my school, Sundays were different than any other day. My students, all females, wore their most formal dresses. Each of the four years had different prints for those dresses. There were three pieces: top, skirt and a matching cloth folded and placed over one shoulder. Every Sunday, late morning, there was a service of sorts in the cafeteria/church/meeting hall. The students sang hymns and a guest speaker gave a sermon of sorts. The guests included: clergy, imams, education officers and me. I got tapped once. I remember I used an Aesop tale as my base, but I don’t remember which one. I think I confused everybody.
I have a few things to do today, or not!