Both the keeper and I offer our heartfelt apologies for not keeping up with our blogging responsibilities. She was out a lot and without opposable thumbs, I cannot open up the laptop. I know how to type though, but it's in my language, for example: ry5869707kg ! 999((0.
This week was wild and windy. The air feels like Fall becoming winter, and the clouds look downright Constablarian or El Greco-arian. Not a week for gardening.
The keeper remembered the old days when she was running around getting things ready for the holiest days and it was a life of lists and phone calls, and more lists, checking, checking. Holy Week and Triduum are a week where counted time stops and church people rush into the madness and the ecstasy of kairos. But because they also live in chronos, they come up with Plans B and C in the event that the perfect orchestrated kairos somehow goes south. She told me that everywhere she went this week, church workers were madly rushing, talking at warp speed, running around with lists, lists, and details hanging out of their ears. She said she misses the exhilaration leading up to the week. She said that as she works on her little projects that have little to do with Triduum she feels somewhat guilty.
So, she went to Tenebrae at the cathedral on Wed. eve instead of to a rehearsal or last minute meeting. She found the dark, and the music haunting, although a sister who was sitting next to her left because she couldn't take one more note from the sopranos.
I mostly sat at the window and waved goodbye and waited for her to come home.
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