El-Alamein
This was the strangest first mowing of my unfortunately lengthy lawnmowing career. Usually, it is agonizingly slow going, with long, wet grass and frequent clogs. Darth Vater informs me the new mower (which he's had for a couple years) is much better about not clogging. I can't speak to that, as today the lawn was exceedingly dry. The mower was kicking up so much dust I eventually went inside and fetched a pair of goggles I received one Good E. Bag Wednesday (once again "the gift of safety" pays off). I felt like one of Monty's Desert Rats out there. (Notice I did not say I felt like a member of the Afrika Korps. Though they were equally assaulted by dust and sand, it's not good to compare oneself to the Afrika Korps since they were, after all, fucking Nazis. I'm with Indiana Jones, I fucking hate Nazis.) In any event, it was really dusty.

Field Marshal Sir Bernard Law Montgomery, Viscount Montgomery; Star Wars; Indiana Jones; and BTW madness all in one post. I am the reference king!

First Primes
of Apophis
Bra'tac
Teal'c
Shak'l
of Anubis
Ha'rak

Tridentine Rite
Next weekend, for utterly unfathomable reasons, my mon is going down to Dayton to hang out with her mom. Of my four grandparents, Grandma Little is only one left alive. Why? Because apparently evil is it's own reward. I'm serious, she's horrible. How Grandpa Little, who was the nicest man in the world except for the very unfortunate flaw of his racism (he was born in Kentucky in 1921, what do you expect?), could stand her, much less marry her, is beyond me. Of course, the real reason she's still alive is probably that she's several years younger than the rest of them. But I digress.

Next weekend, Mom won't be here; so, I'm on my own for Mass. This is the perfect opportunity to catch the Latin Mass, i.e. the Tridentine Rite. I found it at a church somewhere in the wilds of Flinttown. Next week, I'll be up in that mug, 1547 style. (The Rite used up until Vatican II was virtually unchanged from its codification by the Tridentine Council in 1547.) Bugger off, accessible Mass in the local language! I have no idea if I'll enjoy a Mass in Latin, as I neither speak Latin nor know the Mass by rote, but I was born fifteen years after Vatican II and was raised in an exclusively contemporized parish; I think my curiosity about the old Mass is understandable.