Since when is talking a sign of thinking?

I’m reading The Hunchback of Notre Dame, by Victor Hugo. I’ve seen the movie (the excellent original 1939 version starring Charles Laughton) but never read the book. Good story, easy read. It was written in 1831 but doesn’t have the difficult grammar and syntax of some literature from that period.

When I read a book I dog ear the top of the page to mark my spot. I dog ear the bottom of pages with a passage or sentence that strikes me as potent for whatever reason. I’ll go back and re-read those. On page 48 La Esmeralda describes to Gringoire the difference between friendship and love (he wants the latter, she will only give him the former).

A friend is, “being brother and sister, two souls which touch without mingling, like two fingers of a hand.” Love is, “being two and yet being only one, a man and a woman fused into an angel. It’s heaven!”

We had a beautiful sunrise this morning. I wanted to take a picture but I can’t find my camera. Or I couldn’t find it in the space of a minute, and that’s all the time you have to get a sunrise at its peak. There’s a lesson in there someplace.

I worked again today at M & M’s. I finished the fence, built the gate and got it installed. Then I went to work on the door. Someone built a room attached to the outside of the house that holds a water heater and heat pump unit and put a 32” door on the room. But because they used an interior door it was warped and delaminating. I tore it out so I could install a metal exterior pre-hung door.
The rough opening for a door should always be at least 1” wider and taller than the door with its jamb. But when I went to slide this pre-hung door in place it wouldn’t fit. Somebody made the opening too small.
I’ll have to go back Friday with my reciprocating saw and cut the 2”x4” framing pieces back enough to get the door in and squared up. Won’t be fun, but that’s what sometimes happens when you’re fixing things.

Based on comments I saw on Facebook this morning this needs to be said again: dead dogs don’t go to heaven. It’s fine to be sad that your dog died; I’ll be sad when Al dies and we’ve only had him a few months. Assuming Al precedes me in death (no sure thing) and I comment on my sadness at his passing, please do not tell me I’ll see him in heaven. Because while I can contain myself when that comment is made by people I don’t know to someone who is one of my friends I will not be able to let it go if you say it to me.
C’mon, folks. They’re animals, not souls created in the image of God for whom his Son died. Sentimentality is tolerable in some cases, but not when it confuses Labradors with Imago Dei.

My friend Sherry’s most recent blog post is fun.

Before I left this morning I watched Mike & Mike in the Morning and then a few minutes of the Today Show. They did a story on one of the first battalions heading to Afghanistan as part of the surge, and interviewed a young couple who would be separated as a result. I missed his rank but he’s an officer who is part of the deployment. Not his first assignment, but his first into a war zone.

Even through the clearly edited portions of the very touching interview I could tell this soldier and his wife are believers. Several of her answers, said as she fought back her emotions, had allusions to Scripture. When asked how she would deal with his absence she said that she is blessed with a wonderful family, great friends, a lovely house...”My cup overflows.” (She wipes her tears.)

At the end of the segment the voice-over said, “They try not to think about the worst case scenario.” The interviewer then asked him, “Do you worry about your safety?”

It was his turn to fight through the obvious lump in his throat. His reply: “It’s grace that’s seen us safe thus far and grace will see me home.”

Choking up before you’ve even begun your day does not threaten your man card.