Tag Archives: heat wave

Tuesday Musings: Now with that New Car Smell!

The temperature today maxed out at 111 degrees here in my part of Texas.

And I was just asking Our Lord to give me the grace to meditate on His Passion…

In other news, the gayest chest cold in history continues to steamroll its pathetic way back into our daily lives. Local news reports are screaming that numbers are up and everyone will die. Remember that these are the same people who told you that Joe Byron got 81 million votes.

Moving on…

Can you tell it’s a slow news day?

Shrine of St. Anne de Beaupré, Quebec Province, Canada

I recently watched a new Fr. Ripperger video. This one (in three one-hour segments) is on the virtue of integrity. Toward the end, however, Fr. wends his way into end times prophecies. I must read more about Blessed Elena Aiello; but this did raise an interesting point. Tonight my wife asked me if I would be interested in a pilgrimage to Rome. After watching that video, hell nein. but for a more practical reason I deferred my answer.

If the Mass of the Ages is to be completely unavailable in the Eternal City (as I suspect it will be soon), then why would I travel there? And why would I spend time and money to go to a general audience of an antipope? Although that thought intrigues me as someone who frequently finds himself in “impossible historical situations”, I think I will take a pass for now.

Perhaps if the Triumph occurs in my lifetime I may rethink this.

Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us!

Dispatches from the Ninth Circle

My friends, to say it has been hot here in Texas these past two days is an understatement. I have lived in Texas for eleven years now. I moved here at the height of the hottest summer on record. It was so hot that summer that when our moving truck arrived I almost decided to leave all of our belongings on the truck and send it back rather than exert myself by unloading it.

This weekend has been something else. The high humidity played a factor. That’s not too normal around these parts. We routinely see temps in the triple digits for most of the summer but never with this much moisture in the atmosphere. Stepping out one’s front door becomes something akin to stepping into a blast furnace. We sought relief at a friend’s pool. The water was 90 degrees.

I’m not complaining. I’ve turned shades of brown that would make George Hamilton green with envy. And my hair (what’s left of it) has turned the most Nordic of blondes. My wife is even jealous. FYI my eyebrows have completely disappeared.

It’s so hot…

(How hot is it?!)

It’s so hot that I saw a dog chasing a cat. They were both walking.

Look folks, I told you I’m a dad above all else. You’ve just got to expect these kind of “jokes” and then roll with them. Admit it. You love it.

Speaking of cats and sodomites… Last week upon my return from a long cross-country road trip with the family, I discovered that a neighborhood stray had adopted my home as his new dwelling. For the past week, despite my best efforts at not caring in the least, a gray and white American shorthair has been calling my front porch his home. This is only slightly annoying to me as I typically call my own front porch my home. It’s summer in Texas. That’s the place where I sit all day long, musing on trad dad stuff, and sipping my gin and tonics. Also I have a dog who would under normal circumstances demolish this cat. Yet, when I brought the dog outside on his leash to “intimidate” the cat into leaving (I am from New Jersey), the two looked at each other, rubbed noses like Milo and Otis, and both laid down. Again, it’s the heat.

He would never advance the alphabet agenda.

I really don’t want this cat. However, I’m not cruel. I don’t want to see an animal suffer. I broke down and gave him or her (I’m absolutely not checking to verify) a drink of water. The cat refused. Seems he just wants to lay on my porch and then try to sneak in my front door, despite me shoo-ing him away.

This morning after the high mass, while my wife made breakfast, I attempted to retrieve something from our garage. I entered from the kitchen. Guess who was waiting there for me. He gained entry when my mother-in-law came for a visit yesterday.

I gave him a name.

Since he arrived during pride month, I’ve taken to calling him James Martin, SJ.

Fortunately, this James Martin hasn’t spouted heresy yet. Nonetheless, he will be making a trip to the animal shelter tomorrow where he will hopefully be placed with a loving family who do not own a schizophrenic terrier and who actually want the damn thing.

Perhaps all the other James Martin needs is a bowl of water, a can of tuna, and a flea dip and he’ll leave the rest of us alone.