Sunday in Zoar
Sunday seems like a good time to take it easy with a Zoar Update. ("The Place God Didn't Destroy.") Zoar has been peaceful and secure in the hilly fastness of the Shawnee National Forest.
Blanquette has been acting true to her namesake, M. Seguin's Goat, and escaping. However, once on the wrong side of the fence, she panics, and bleats piteously as she runs around the enclosure, trying to discover her way back in. This was, incidentally, the only way we found out she could talk, since otherwise she is mute.
A Goat Named Shwarma
The Shepherdess has ominously renamed "Hyssop" to Shwarma. We already have "Goatburger." Today she was reduced to fencing against the horned brute with a metal feed scoop. Not a smart move.
All of our dairy goats are dry at the moment, so we are still waiting to try our hand at soap-making.
Jane the gender-confused rooster is off on walkabout, not satisfied with his own farm and hens. Such adventures seldom come to a happy end. A moral there, to be sure.
Beau, our new Mini Aussie is hitting eight weeks old, and is very people-oriented. He's really smart, too, and too cute. He plays with Shelby's favorite toys, which is nice. (We had to put down Shelby several weeks ago, and our Border Collie this week. So it's nice to have a puppy in the house.) He likes to play with Friend Cat and Friends Yorkies (not as friendly as Friend Cat). He is, however, afraid of goats! Well, he is quite little, and goats are very intimidating to him.
Ah, today the Bear did not want to roll out of his cozy bed and go to Mass. His guardian angel had to kick him out of bed. It was either that or a burst of Holy Stubbornness; sometimes it is hard to tell the difference. Maybe it was the thunderstorms that interrupted his sleep last night.
The church was full, which was nice to see, and there was a baptism, too! The Bear couldn't tell you what the homily was about, which is usually a good thing. We did have to perform the Nazi salute, however, required of all parishioners so they can "bless" the baptized baby with outstretched hand. The Bear does not know where that is in the rubrics, but he can't blow his cover by defiantly folding his arm. So, he made an unenthusiastic and vague gesture.
In other news, the Bear was also gratified to see confirmed something he has long maintained. Redheads are represented in advertising far more than their occurrence in real life would demand.
|Redheads rule in commercials.|
Research shows that redheads are eye-catching (duh) and desirable (double duh). None more so than the Bear's mate, a.k.a the Shepherdess, a.k.a. the Bear's bodyguard, driver and factotum, Red Death. They are also only 2% of the population, so the Bear is lucky to have made such a rare catch.
Here's a five-minute segment on the truth about the Spanish Inquisition. It is a favorite of "The Black Legend" of English anti-Catholic propaganda. The torture and executions were common everywhere, with England at the top of the list. (Catholics have much to be ashamed of, too, such as the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre in France in 1572, just a year after the miraculous victory at Lepanto.) The times do not excuse, but they do provide context. As the little history lesson shows, secular criminals would blaspheme just to get under the Inquisition's jurisdiction, since conditions and interrogations were less inhumane.