A good day.

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My lady friend showed up. I was awake, having set my alarm, if with one snooze button use, at 7:05. I had not yet showered, as I believed she would want to set up her laundry and I was not sure when or if she would indeed arrive. I think it was about 9:30 when she showed up, without having placed a call to let me know she was on the way. She was a little surprised I had not showered, and a bit dismayed. She has, for reason unknown to me, come to think it takes me 45 minutes or some other long time to shower and be ready. In truth, I can shower and dress in 10 to 15 minutes without rushing, 5 minutes if rushed. I prefer a good 15 to 20 minute shower, but I only do that a few times week for practical reasons. So she was surprised when I finished my shower and dressing before she had fully unloaded her laundry and started her first load. I think she is confusing her habits with mine.

She brought three movies to watch. She was hungrier than she was interested in a show. She wanted to brunch at a place we have both thought about visiting since back when we were together. The food was very good. It was not overpriced, or even expensive, for the city anyway. She did not prefer the layout of the place as it created a babble chamber. Though you really could not hear all being said, you could hear all conversations merged into linguistic mush. And, it was rather loud despite there only being 20 to 25 people in the place. I found that to be a nice trait. The only difficulty I had with it was that in such situations, my lady friend seems to talk quieter. I do not know if she is playing with me, reacting to the noise, or what. But she does get testy when I do not hear her (or more, that I do not simply know what she is thinking). It is water off my back, I have told her thrice I will not play the game. She either speak up or expect me not to hear her. And, I cannot read her mind, or at least, I will not depend on that. Either she makes herself heard or she can expect to not be understood at all. It is a regular situation for us. I really suspect she becomes distressed in certain situations, and it makes her act funny. So, I go easy on this.

I consider myself more of a carnivore or even an obligate carnivore or hyper-carnivore than an omnivore, eating vegetables more by accident or habit than by any real design or interest. I saw something on their menu I wished to try for a later brunch, as I called it. Oddly, it was a vegetarian sandwich, with the main part being hummus. It was quite a nice meal just a bit a go, and I was correct, they did it to perfection. I am not sure what dressing they used, but it was hand made and well made. In any case, should I get the chance before I leave, I would like to visit again and try another sandwich I saw on the menu. On the way back, my friend asked if I would purchase Lambic. Lambic being a fruity beer type of drink. Of course, I had no difficulty with that. She thought two bottles would be enough. I overrode her and bought four. The alcohol content is quite mild, less than beer or so I think. As it turned out, my choice was wise. The two of us went through thee of the bottles with no outrageous dancing on tables, swinging from chandeliers, or fist fights (actually, kissing, she is a girl). While we were watching the movies, she asked if I happened to have cheese and crackers. I did happen to have some fresh baker bread I purchased yesterday and gouda (if not the boutique stuff). I asked if she wanted the bread toasted. Sure enough. And, she quite enjoyed the cheese that cost less than half the amount she spends. By the way, it surprised me that the “cheap” gouda was made of the same things the boutique cheese was made from. And, yes, it does taste about as good, the difference probably just being the difference, neither cheese truly being better.

When I suggested I would be renting an apartment for a few months to locate a place to buy, she seemed satisfied. When I told her I would be wet vacuuming the bedroom, she about had a fit. She let me know that I had to remove all wood furniture. I told her I was removing all furniture, but that in any case, the dresser did not sit wood to floor, having wheels. Then she went through a spoken thought process, at first against the notion, then I added it was part of cleaning up before the move, she finally just suggested that doing it now is probably a good idea. It is fun to watch some people think. Usually I do not need to hear her talk her thoughts through, not any more. But it is fun to see it, too, sometimes. She is a complicated woman, definitely different from most anybody I have ever known, and she can be helpful, useful, and pleasant if she has the bite of a good blue cheese too, sometimes. She left right after that, having finished her show, my cheese and bread, and three quarters of the Lambic (with a little help), and her laundry (bandit!). As you must know by now, I do enjoy her company a great deal. She will be missed.

I, finally, had a chance so went online to find information about the rosary. She does not want the computer on when she is here. I found many links, many of which were very problematic. One covered the home page with a plea for donations, with no way to just see the information. I am pretty sure the plea was a personal one. I do not do that, for the most part. I have helped others out due to pleas from others, such as sending a few dollars to a medic and his wife at Bane’s request, and three or four other donations starting from him and others. But this irritated me. In any case, I finally found four links and bookmarked them. I then chose one to begin printing. I printed one of six sets of data, a few pages, and… out of paper. Worse, all of my paper has been packed. As much as I use the computer, for some things, I really prefer to have a paper copy of certain information, not wishing to reading online. More so if it involves something I wish to actually learn. Though a bit frustrated, I will look over the material and see what I can make of it.

Though I am uncomfortable worshipping here and now in the traditional method, I see how breaking bread with friends, family, or both may be a prayer. Relaxing and enjoying time with someone you like, or not (always), is a method of sharing in God’s will. And, serving another (whether they are easy to please or not, perhaps more so if they can be demanding) can be a form of worship. I have no doubt that these are not as good as the traditional means of prayer and worship. However, when one feels as if they have no choice, one must do what one can. I may be way off here. I may be wrong. But I have to follow my conscience. If I need to learn, I would like to learn where I trust to do so. All I see here is support of socialism (over the church), feminism, pro-abortion sentiments, weak sexual morals, homosexuality as a norm, and other things I do not concede. And that is not just the city, but it is potently seen within the church. I just cannot go there regularly. This is not my place or my ways. In some ways, I am the one who is wrong her, and I understand that too. So, as I said, I will do what I may with what I have. But, I do miss confession and the Eucharist. I may have to deal with that, anyway, and soon. I do trust my priest. I would like to thank him, participate in a last confession here, and maybe go to Eucharist here one more time, and to say goodbye. There are a few others from the church I would like to give personal goodbyes (some of them among those who voted for O, as we are friends if not religiously in sync). I trust their hearts if not their ways, if you know what I mean.

I know I seem to be at war with seemingly everyone, and sometimes all at once. The war is not without, it is within. What I reject, I reject for myself, in part in union with the authority of the Church. I do not harbor hate, I will not abandon people if I reject their sins or their support of those sins, and I am not the one to offer forgiveness nor do I feel the need to be so. I seek peace, and a place I feel is right to encounter, grow, and nourish my belief in that authority and my sentiments. I seek to be with those who are more like me. I choose to follow what I believe God is calling me to, first to the church, then to where I should be. I hope to find a place where I do not have to wonder about my neighbors, I have warred, in many ways… too many ways for too long. I have feared enough, too much. And I am not getting younger. It is time. I need to find a place to lay my sword aside, or at least to be able to rest it from time to time, along with my shield and armor. Now that I have found my home in the church, I must find a home for my flesh, and rest just a little bit. Perhaps I will find my way to live there, or the peace to die.