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I decided, after looking, to go to the 23:00 Mass yesterday. It was specifically a Christmas eve Mass. I knew I would not make it for the morning Mass, this morning, and I had some small hope that it would be less crowded. I was half right. Even with chairs brought in there were not but a few places open when all was said and done. And, actually, some people must not have noticed the spare chairs, or were with too large of a group to use the few sparse places, as some were standing at the back of the Church. Still, all good.
I may have to speak with my priest. I was one of the the few dressed for Church! I even saw one man in a heavy metal pullover sweatshirt. He was my age. I don't know what has happened. I just can't rid myself of the notion of wearing my best for Mass. I have toned things down, just a bit, for weekday Mass. But I just can't for Sabbath Masses, certainly not high Masses (is that the term?) without being properly attired. Something about the secondary wedding guests, Christ, being dressed properly or being thrown out? I don't know if that applies, but I thought so. Though I do stick out like a sore thumb.
I have been invited to a dinner! I was quite pleased. I had beef-mac as the meal plan. Hey, I'm a bachelor and that seemed easy enough on a celebration day. These are some local people, going to one of their parent's home. I don't have anything to take. And I realize taking food when more is being cooked than can be eaten is a silly notion anyway. I suppose I should just humbly and politely accept the gift. It will be good to be in company though. You know me, even if you know me, you know?
My mother has been spoken with, with all the usual Christmas sayings. Just a touch and go thing, as she is a busy woman. She has more people coming over for a minute than any woman I know, and calls too. I have a few more calls to make this afternoon. Everything is on schedule that way, more or less. She thinks the Church will be empty at her funeral. Sometimes I think she really doesn't understand. She has become something between the Godmother and Mrs. Santa in her area. Really really.
And again, Merry Christmas.
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