In which I finally wrap up a project, learn a bit of Welsh, and wish people wouldn’t show me photos of myself
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I’m happy with my own contribution, which somehow manages to quote from two hymns and an Amy Grant song.
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Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
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In which I reach Peak Episcopalian
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Preaching, medical care, workouts, and missed deadlines
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My final session on Augustine’s Confessions, a minor (!) baking glitch, and random Scottish art
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I’ve been bitching for years about how no one around here does a proper Ascension Day service, so I kind of had to go—and of course I’m very glad I did.
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Low-key adventures on the Feast of St Philip and St James
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Augustine, Platonism, lavender-lemon cookies, Scotus translations, and various bits of Catherine of Siena scattered about Italy
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When I was an unathletic kid, I was fond of 1 Timothy 4:8a, which in the Authorized Version reads, “Bodily exercise profiteth little.” See, jocks: even St Paul is dismissive of your pursuits. Now that I’m sojourning in the outer precincts of Gym Bro Land, however, I prefer the more accurate translation of the RSV: “Bodily training is of some value.”
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