The shop looks a bit weather-beaten and worn, but inside are the spiritual links to the many avenues of religiosity available in the Catholic church.  There are rosaries, medals, books on the saints, bibles, art, music, sermons from outstanding churchmen, and the list goes on.  I bought someone I know a gift, but it was not received with enthusiasm.  You better know what you’re doing.

The spiritual is personal, though open to all seekers, and that religious shop was a gem that I had not seen in a long time.  It didn’t occur to me to look for one of my books, though I have written one or two. I guess I’m not as religious as I thought.

Today we went to Barnes and Noble Bookstore, and I compared some of the titles with mine.  There was one that was comparably sensational, but it didn’t look like any books from its stack had been sold.  I guessed the title did not sell books.

The disappointing thing was that I wasn’t tempted to read a memoir unless it was by somebody famous, so that shoots my book.  Who am I?  Good question.  What have I accomplished?  Nothing worth writing about.

Now if I could say I’d attained salvation, that would be worth a read.  But the final say does not come until you’re dead.  I’m not ready for that.         

The cleaning ladies (there are three or them) have distinct personalities, with each one having her own characteristic.  My wife serves them coffee, but Maria goes right to work without indulging, unless you mention it.  And Veronica puts things that might get misplaced, like my keys, in my drawer (where I never thought of looking for them.)

They are a great bunch, all from Central America, and only two of them speak English.  They are diligent women, and far outshine their domestic competitors.  I’m glad for their presence here; they cost a little more, since there are three, but they’re worth it.

I think it’s wonderful to live in a country that can afford to absorb all these wonderful immigrants.  Here’s to a God who tells us to treat the stranger well, as in “The Good Samaritan.”

My porch patio furniture, stuffed in water-proof covers, has gotten dirty with constant exposure to rain, but when the sun bleaches it, we’ll invite our guests on a sunny Saturday morning, and enjoy the great Long Island weather.

The cicadas have been somewhat silent this year, and I hope it hasn’t been due to the dutiful application  of grass pesticide.  When I owned a house and lawn, I never used insect pesticide, and had the best lawn on the block.  But then, I had divine assistance, and who takes better care of sod than the angels?  (Just kidding).

You have to know how to get accepted by this angel crowd.  They have a lot of influence.  I understand they can make the lilies bloom in no time.  But you have to die to see them.

I’m watching golf on TV, and two of the finalists in one tournament have caps, one a baseball cap and the other the classic cap, the kind they wore to watch a tennis match in the 1930’s.  He stole the show in style.

People don’t dress anymore to make an impression, but this fellow certainly made an impression.  It was a cap designed to be modern, not as broad as the 30’s model, and having a smooth, water-proof material.  Good for him.

There used to be a saying, “Clothes make the man.”  Thank God we’ve become more  sophisticated than that, but hey, its his day on the links.