Twenty-Fourth Sunday of Pentecost, 2019
This Sabbath Day was destined for disaster from the beginning. Rainy and cold, I was in no mood to go back into "The City" for the second time in 24 hours. Saturday involved brunch with Pale Male and being brought up to speed on the Saturday Kitchen situation. It's been in the work for months, but apparently there has been an intervention by M's family. The implications are far-reaching insofar as it now renders the feud between M and J pretty much meaningless. Neither one of them are exactly spring chickens.
Pale Male also let it be known that he was actively looking at joining an MCC church, the surrogate church for gays. He has a point. He's obviously been lurking this blog and can see what a kettle of fish I've opened up for myself by constantly falling in love with WASPy straight men (some of whom are under the age of consent.) I'm sure he believes I'm an accident waiting to happen.
It's not my fault that the church has gotten richer, whiter and straighter over the space of the last twenty years. And, as it has done so, it has grown less friendly. I've been blind to it through my constant crushes, but, Pale Male has been fairly consistent in his opinion. as he put it quite bluntly: The MCC service he went to last Sunday was "The way St. Michael's thinks it is." (and, presumably isn't.)
So, the weekend started off being a bit of a downer. By this morning, I just couldn't face lacing up a pair of Timberlands for the trip outdoors. I immediately texted Pale not to expect me.
Pale Male also let it be known that he was actively looking at joining an MCC church, the surrogate church for gays. He has a point. He's obviously been lurking this blog and can see what a kettle of fish I've opened up for myself by constantly falling in love with WASPy straight men (some of whom are under the age of consent.) I'm sure he believes I'm an accident waiting to happen.
It's not my fault that the church has gotten richer, whiter and straighter over the space of the last twenty years. And, as it has done so, it has grown less friendly. I've been blind to it through my constant crushes, but, Pale Male has been fairly consistent in his opinion. as he put it quite bluntly: The MCC service he went to last Sunday was "The way St. Michael's thinks it is." (and, presumably isn't.)
So, the weekend started off being a bit of a downer. By this morning, I just couldn't face lacing up a pair of Timberlands for the trip outdoors. I immediately texted Pale not to expect me.