dpchallenge

Foaming At the Mouth

I’ve always been quite a fool for a hot cup of coffee.  Not counting Sanka and Starbuck’s, I’ll drink any other kind.

 

Most days since I’ve been in Long Beach, I can be counted on to go once a day to the Coffee Nut Cafe’ on Park Avenue, to get a cup of coffee. Occasionally I go to Gentle Brew, also on Park Avenue, but since the former is closer, I much more often go there.

 

Lately I restrict my purchases to the less expensive~it’s only two dollars a cup~plain flavored coffee. Whenever I go to Gentle Brew, though, I cheat and get a latte’ or something equivalently intense. I used, until recently, to get the fancy drinks on a regular basis at the Coffee Nut Cafe’ too.

 

For me a large part of the enjoyment of drinks like latte’ is the froth at the top. Maybe I’m a  smidge or two on the eccentric side, but I’ve always quite enjoyed the foam at the top of soda, beer, coffee, and all sorts of other drinks. I’ve so often noticed that most people appear even to recoil in horror from even the risk of touching those bubbles at the top of a drink.

 

When I was in the Knights of Columbus’ Council 794, in Lindenhurst, I occasionally took a turn as a bartender, mostly on Friday nights.  I used always to get into trouble for putting too much of a head on people’s beers. Alas, in my case, it was inevitably because of incompetence but I still can’t understand why that’s always struck people as such a very bad thing somehow.  Am I the only one who gets a kick out of froth?

 

For today’s daily post the one~word prompt is Froth 

 

Naikanlens

Help From Heaven 

 

Feel Purple

 

Pensitivity

 

 

 

 

 

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Ah, yes! I remember it well!

I’ve always had a phenomenally good memory, but only in a qualified sense.

Does anyone remember Marilu Henner, who, long ago, played Elaine Nardo, the art gallery employee on “Taxi”? She is purported to have a perfect autobiographical memory.

I appear to come quite close.  Oddly, although I’m always forgetting where I most recently put my eyeglasses, keys, wristwatch, etc. , I seem to have quite an amazing memory to remember verbatim conversations, and all manner of arcane trivia, from decades in the past.

People are always passing comments about how exasperating it is that I can’t quite seem to remember to do the important chores, to run necessary errands, or otherwise to keep a promise, but I can always remember the times, in the tenth grade, when my theology teacher at St. John the Baptist Diocesan High School in West Islip told us that he’d never liked boiled hot dogs, and that his brother had a major foot problem.                                                                                                                          I haven’t lived in Jackson Heights, Queens, since September 11, 1971, five days before my twelfth birthday.  My parents and I, during the first years of the twenty first century, went back to St. Gabriel’s, our old parish in East Elmhurst, for a couple of reunions.  I attended grammar school there.  Sister Catherine, of the Sisters of Charity, was on the faculty when I was there. At one of the reunions, I re introduced myself and explained to her that I thought I could remember that she was once named Sister Lawrence. She reacted with a stunned facial expression and  replied: “Not since 1966!”                                                                                                                                  Of course, I could come up with quite a large number of other similar incidents. I quite often enjoy shocking old friends, teachers, and classmates with these trips down memory lane. It would be nice, however, if I could as easily summon up the equivalent ability to remember  to buy things I’ve run out of, to take out the garbage, and to meet whichever deadlines may arise in the here and now.

Mnemonic

carmelite feasts

I’ve been a lay Carmelite ever since October 2001. The Order is quite ancient and has its origins well before the eleventh century, traditionally hearkening back to before the Birth of Christ.

The Order, since the days of Sts. John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila in Counter-Reformation Spain, has been divided into two main branches, the Discalced, and the Calced (or Ancient Observance).  Although they have much in common, each branch has its own separate customs, rules, and traditions. Each month of the liturgical year has at least one Carmelite feast day.

July is quite an important month for Carmel since it’s the month during which we honor both St. Elijah, the Prophet and our Father, on the twentieth; and the Virgin Mary.  Mary gets two days.  The first is the Solemnity of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel on the sixteenth. Her other feast day is the Mother of Divine Grace, on the twenty third. It’s on the nineteenth in Europe.  Sts. Joachim and Anne, parents of the Virgin Mary, are also honored on July 26 as the protectors of the Order.

Carmelite Feast Days

Feast

Feast ~Christmas

Feast

Feast

Midnight In the Pantry

undeniable and inexplicable order

Today is the ninety ninth anniversary of the birth of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, thirty fifth President of the United States.  His younger brother and attorney general, Robert Francis Kennedy, was fatally shot on June 5, 1968.  J.F.K. was assassinated on November 22, 1963, two days after R.F.K.’s thirty eighth birthday.  

Over the past very many years I have always noticed that death has no respect for special occasions.  People often die on, or close, to times like Christmas, Easter, and other milestones.  My mother died exactly a week after my fifty fourth birthday. neral was on my father’s eightieth birthday.

So many things are like that. Between William Henry Harrison in 1840 and John F. Kennedy in 1963, each president elected at a twenty year interval died, either naturally or by assassination, while an incumbent.  This has been attributed to the curse of Tippecanoe, dating back to Harrison’s  questionable tactics in the Treaty of Fort Wayne with the Indians.

Another example of inexplicable coincidences can be found in the 1917 Our Lady of Fatima apparitions and events that are relevant to them. In 1517 the world was afflicted with the Protestant Revolution,  the first of many evil milestones. In 1689 Luis XIV refused Jesus’ request to consecrate France to the Sacred Heart.  During 1717 the Masons were founded. 1789  was the beginning of the French Revolution.  The Russian Revolution occurred in 1917, and the Berlin Wall came down in 1989. There are so many other supposedly coincidental dates that are crucial to the circumstances surrounding Fatima. I’ve only skimmed the surface.  These, and many other dates and milestones, fit a most undeniable pattern that cannot possibly be overlooked.

This kind of order, visible only in retrospect, has to be reckoned with. I have no idea of exactly what’s going on but it has always made me so insatiably curious.

daily post~:orderly

no order..haiku

a place for everything

orderly

ladies, form an orderly queue

orderly

fighting with a sad sick world

I’ve just found out, unfortunately, that homosexual groups were allowed to march in yesterday’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade down Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, but that no pro-life groups were welcome.  “The whole thing is perverse,” said William Donohue, president of the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights.  Timothy Cardinal Dolan, of the Archdiocese of New York, rightly pointed out that the parade exists only to honor St. Patrick, the patron saint of both Ireland and of the Archdiocese, and that no one may legitimately be allowed to use it “… for causes that are extrinsic to its origins.” Besides that, Obama has recently nominated Merrick Garland, a favorite of Planned Parenthood, to replace the recently deceased Justice Antonin Scalia on the Supreme Court. We simply cannot allow this to go on any longer. The left has been walking all over us for entirely too long and it’s about time we finally wised up and demanded our rightful due.

daily post

why didn’t she fight back? domestic violence

prompt for the day fight

when to give up the fight

write your worries in the sand, carve your blessings in stone

daily prompt fight

 

weekend at bernie’s, hillary’s, the donald’s

The big election will be here in only another eight months. Politics is pretty much the most divisive force known to mankind, precisely because it’s all about power.  I’m as conservative as anyone can begin to imagine. I’m constantly surrounded, in person and online, by people who are equally liberal.  This kind of division always makes for excessively hard feelings. People are constantly leaving my Facebook friend list. I don’t bother to pay much attention to my Twitter account but I should assume it’s also why people stop following me there. Proponents of  homosexuality and abortion are entirely irrational and power crazy. They will stop at absolutely nothing whatsoever in their determination to promote their ugly agenda.  I always  try to avoid arguing in person. If anyone wants to find out my points of view, he can always read them online.

daily post

divide

a happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers

a home divided

divided

march 2 2016 daily prompt

leap at your own risk

I’ve never been a fan of change, especially significant change. The first time I moved from one address to another~of the moves I can remember~was around my twelfth birthday, when we moved from Jackson Heights to Lindenhurst.  That drove me nuts.  It was an unavoidably necessary leap but I still plum stunk at it. I always tell people that that was the incident which forever left me wary of change.  I can handle incremental change, the kind that happens in small degrees.  That kind of change happens incessantly anyway. Any change, however, that can be referred to as a leap, gets me crazy.  Ever since my earliest  days I’ve always been so pathetically physically clumsy, weak and uncoordinated. I was the kind of kid whom no one else ever wanted on his team, in gym class or otherwise.  Physical leaps are yet another kind I tend to shun.  While I can understand that leaping into things can often be unavoidably necessary, I don’t leap well. I should rather saunter as much as possible.

like a boss

a leap altar and more

daily post

daily paws

leap~daily prompt

peeps for leap

we only have one life to live

Of course I most certainly don’t give any credibility whatsoever to the dualistic claims of eastern religions and modes of thought which claim that each individual must go through a series of different lifetimes in order to be purged enough so that he may be happy in the next life.  Beatle George Harrison may have been quite an absolute expert at music but he got it all wrong when it came to that topic.  God puts each of us here for only one opportunity to do the right thing. In that sense my view of life is more linear than cyclical. Whenever a new baby is conceived, God does not insert a new soul into a material container. Each individual is conceived with his body and soul inextricably linked permanently to each other. The Catholic Church has consistently taught that for over two thousand years.
“It is appointed unto men to die once but after this comes the judgment.” (Heb. 9:27). That’s where the Four Last Things-Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell-must be dealt with.  Once someone has faced up to his Particular Judgment immediately upon his decease, he goes either to Purgatory temporarily, straight to Heaven, or straight to Hell.

 

daily post

to karma

the element of heat

YOLO

echinodermic propensity

what goes around comes back around

 

 

 

 

 

you know my name (look up my number)

My Name Is Larry

  1. My name is Larry. Officially I’m named Lawrence, after my mother’s father, who died in late August of 1959, slightly over two weeks before I was born.  Although I never got a chance to get to know my grandfather, I grew up constantly in touch with my Uncle Larry and my cousin Larry, on my father’s side.  Among my father’s relatives there have even been nine Joseph’s, and a bit too much repetition of other names too. Throughout the years, in order to differentiate from among us Larry’s, I was too often referred to as Little Larry, and even Baby Larry.  My niece and nephews, knowing that my full name is Lawrence, have often asked if I have ever gotten any mileage out of that variation of my name.   I remind them that under official circumstances it frequently comes up, in school, work, and anywhere else that may require me to be a bit formal.  Sister Miriam Therese, of the Sisters of Charity, was my fifth grade teacher at St. Gabriel’s in East Elmhurst. It was in her class that I was first reminded constantly that my name was Lawrence. She was quite strict about each student’s always being addressed and referred to by his first name.  Around the time of my twelfth birthday we moved from Jackson Heights to Lindenhurst. When kids in my new schools, Copiague Junior High School, and then Our Lady of Perpetual Help, asked me what my name was, I took a chance on introducing myself as Lawrence. The Copiague kids stuck with it for around the next three years. Somehow after that it faded away entirely.  In my Catholic school, though, things were a bit different. The first kid I met there was Jerry Antonacci. He asked me my name. I introduced myself as Lawrence. He then asked if he may call me Larry. I said yes and that was the end of it. Unlike certain other names, such as Anthony, David, Michael, and Peter, the name Lawrence simply doesn’t strike people as that interesting as far as always calling somebody by his full name. I see no point in ever bothering to change it. There have been times over the course of my lifetimes when it has struck me as somewhat annoying.  In general, though, it’s quite nice.

John Jr. online

anne’s bird poems

no page left blank

melanie lynn griffin

emotional fitness training

Sparks From A Combustible Mind

daily post

the cats at the soup kitchen

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Odd Trio.”

The Kitchen on Pine Street can often be quite an exceptionally interesting place. Its official name is the Long Beach Food and Friendship INN. Having no previous experience with soup kitchens I don’t know what I could possibly compare it to but there’s always something distinctive going on there.

When I work there I’m expected to bluff my way past all kinds of characters and to put up with a wide variety of eccentric obnoxious behavior and circumstances.

One of the jobs I typically get is giving out a bowl of soup to each guest as he asks for it. Besides soup we always have a full, hot meal, salad, as well as drinks (always non-alcoholic), dessert,fruit and miscellaneous other kinds of things to keep people happy. The food is good. We get it from Trader Joe’s, Waldbaum’s, King Kullen and other nearby food stores.

Because in our neighborhood there are many factories, as well as a public school across the street, we have a lot of dumpsters in our general vicinity. One problem with this is that there’s always a steady supply of stray cats which each of us must bluff his way past. Unfortunately we’re constantly forced to throw away a lot of food. This inevitably attracts all those annoying creatures. At least so far they haven’t made any real trouble for anyone, as far as I know.

Considering that it’s Long Beach, there are a large number of beaches nearby. I feel like showing up at the soup kitchen with a beach towel one of these days, winding it up, and swinging it at all those obnoxious cats in order to chase them away. I know there’s no way that can possibly solve the problem but it would at least dispel any immediate trouble.

https://adorablyobnoxious.wordpress.com/2014/11/10/daily-prompt-trio-no-3/
https://willowscottling.wordpress.com/2014/10/30/there-are-times/
https://chaabaanov.wordpress.com/2014/11/02/continuing-my-habit/
http://basicallybeyondbasic.com/2014/10/30/daily-prompt-trio-no-3/