Rough men stand on the walls

Sunday

Odd how even in retirement, the day of the week governs my activities.  I cook on weekends and snookums cleans.  I get away with cooking on Shabbat because we have our noon meal at the synagogue, and dinner is always the same meal as we have on Friday night.  There are religious reasons for that, but I’ll not go into the ritual.

This morning, it was less that spectacular blueberry waffles.  I omitted important points in the waffle making rite.  It is just like religion.  Everything must be performed in order.  You cannot properly put the oil into the batter after you mixed it, and expect good results.

I ponder on this, and apply it to my religion.  It is a very structured religion.  You say a certain prayer on each day of the week, unless an exception occurs that requires a change.  We fast on certain holy days as long s they don’t occur on the Shabbat.  Additional prayers are said on certain days, while others are omitted.

Everything in order.

Most of my life was not so ordered.  That absence of order reflected in my religion.  Prayers were said when the urge hit.  Holy days were esteemed to be the same as other days. 

On reflection, I am not so sure that lack of order was a bad thing, though it did tend to wreck relationships and careers.  I think of King David, a man after God’s own heart.  I would not admit such a man into my fellowship today.  Bully, womanizer, adulterer, murderer.  A very strong, self willed man he was.  And in his relationship with God, he was just as impulsive.

But anyway.  Back to order.  Order is an old man’s desire.  Follow the recipe exactly if you want consistent results.  If you whip the oil with the egg first, then whip the milk into the mix, then mix it all into the flour, then pour in the blueberries, you will get perfect waffles.  Mix the oil in after everything else is mixed, and you get thin, chewy waffles.  There are consequences to sin.

Anyway, we ate ‘em all … and I am once again ensconced in  my $49 Office Depot executive chair, staring at the glowing Cyclops and looking for trinkets to intrigue you with.  Sometimes I succeed, and sometimes I don’t.  You are very picky people too, it seems.  Give you the wrong trinket at the wrong time, and you reward me with indifference.

OK … enough of the low-grade Zen.

So this is the first day of the week.  Ahead of me is to make repairs to a drip irrigation system that a curious beagle discovered and felt had to be dug up.  And I still plan on getting snookums a budgie.  I need to secure the porch so that I can sit out on it now that the evening are cooling, and not worry if the ever searching said beagle gets out of the yard.  And I am running a new electrical circuit, but am loath to shut off the house power the hour I will need to tie it all together.

I just started reading No Easy Day, courtesy of Cap’n Dingy, an account of the Navy Seals and the killing of Osama BinLaden.  It apparently conflicts with the White House’s account in several points.  ‘Nuff said about that.

That “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night, because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf”. aptly applies to these men.

Anyhoo.  Good morning, all.

~r