Well, I really wanted to post something tonight about our trip to Louisville, but after spending the better part of an hour searching 5 flash drives, 2 desktops, a laptop and my phone card, I have determined that the pictures I was going to post have disappeared from the face of the earth, or perhaps only from Mississippi. I could substitute some pictures from online, but they aren't as good, and so I'm going to wait until Monday to see if perhaps they aren't on my computer at work.
In the meantime:
I try to go to the church for a minute at lunchtime to say the Angelus (or currently the Regina Caeli) most days. A couple of weeks ago, I dragged myself into the church after a busy, confusing day. I was worried about my mother and some other things, and knelt down in my customary pew. When I looked up, this is what I saw.
At first I thought it might be Elvis--the church is very close to Graceland--but on closer inspection, he turned out to be Frankenduck. I left him in the church for a couple of days in case someone came back for him, but now he lives on my desk.
I'm not so worried about my mother anymore. In case you are picturing some dreary old folks home, this is where she eats.
Below is a picture of a church that we went to on Saturday and Monday. It's a Dominican parish and on Saturdays they have a holy hour and confessions and noon Mass. When we visited my daughter on Thanksgiving vacation, we made it for the entire time, but this time we didn't get there until shortly before Mass began.
When I looked at the church's website, I noticed that they had confessions for an hour before noon Mass Monday through Saturday, so we went back on Monday and when we got there, 30 minutes after confessions began, there were people lined up halfway down the church aisle--on a Monday. I was pretty impressed. Even though we stood in line for 30 minutes, we still had to wait until after Mass to confess. There was only one priest hearing confessions. On Saturday, they have three and the lines are even longer.
Now, anyone that has been reading this blog for any length of time knows that I really want to go to Spain and make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. As time passes, and falling trees and dying swimming pools consume what little money I have, and I get older and older, that hope is becoming rather wan; however, while we were in Louisville, we began another sort of pilgrimage. And one neat thing is that we got a passport to take around with us just like we would on the camino.
There are eight stops on the Bourbon Trail, and we got our little stamp for the first one.
We went to the Evan Williams Bourbon Experience and now I know all about how to make bourbon. At the end of the tour, we got to go into a little tavern which was much cooler and more authentic looking than the one in the picture on the page I linked to, and taste a couple of different kinds of bourbon. Unfortunately, I liked the more expensive one better, which is the story of my life. If you visit all eight locations in a year you get a t-shirt. Although I think I'll be going to Louisville fairly often now that my daughter lives there, I don't know if I can go that often, but then, I don't often wear t-shirts.
Well, if nothing else, this post is eclectic.