Does she know something we don’t?
Let’s see…how many days until I can have a Bombay Sapphire Martini again? Oh, that’s right, 40. Wait a minute, March 31st….that’s longer than 40 days! They don’t count Sundays? Hardly seems fair. They get to pass the plate, but I don’t get credit for time served? Could that bag under my right eye be any bigger? That’s a double bag. Like one bag made a hammock out of the bag below it and went on a permanent siesta. Please tell me there’s a procedure for that, one that won’t make me look like Bruce Jenner. Something affordable. Holy guacomole, are you listening to yourself? Vanity, all is vanity! Repent! Yeah, like that worked so well last year…what kind of hamster wheel have you put yourself on, anyway? Did I just say hamster wheel? Christ has entered the desert and you’re complaining? You should repent for that. Double repentance! This is exhausting. Time for bed.
He followed her up the 170, under a gray sky…but she kept flooring it, putting distance between them. Erroneously, he chased her down the Roscoe offramp, only to find himself stranded at a red light next to a bus bench across from Grace Church.
He made haste for the freeway. She was just getting further away.
Congregants of St. Catherine of Siena in procession on Sherman Way. Epiphany Sunday celebrates the arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem. In various toungues it has meant ‘to manifest’; or ‘to shine upon’; or ‘to illuminate’.
Note the particularly striking Mitt Romney-like priest in white vestments, towering over his Filipino parishoners…
…and the distinctly ethnic Jesus leading the way: