As I was just reminded by D. G. D. Davidson, The Sci-Fi Catholic, I once again completely forgot about the film club THAT I STARTED. That probably doesn't bode well for the film club as a lasting feature here, but we'll see. Anyway, once again, those still interested in having a paragraph or two included in the film club review of the Vincent Price classic House On Haunted Hill, feel free to leave a comment in the combox, drop me an email at email@example.com with your review, or just send a link to your post sometime over the next couple of days.
It's impossible to explain to those of you who don't live south of Tennessee the extent to which apocalyptic zeal seizes this part of the country when white stuff begins falling from the sky.
How much did we get this year? One inch. That's it. But that was enough to shut down this part of Georgia on and off for the past five days. Seriously. Schools and businesses closed, bread and milk disappeared from store shelves, and some protestant churches canceled services. As for me, I neglected work and blogging and opted to spend most of the time introducing my 5 year old to his first snowfall.
Or slushfall as the case may be. You see, you've got two options down here when it comes to building snowmen. You can go large, in which case the result ends up being an abominable mass of dead leaves and mud barely held together by chunks of ice, or you can go small and clean. For the time being, mercifully, the little one isn't into mud, so we went the small route.
So, in the end, I got nothing done for the better part of a week. And the world kept turning. "God's action is the model for human action." the Catechism reminds us, "If God "rested and was refreshed" on the seventh day, man too ought to "rest" and should let others, especially the poor, "be refreshed." The sabbath brings everyday work to a halt and provides a respite. It is a day of protest against the servitude of work and the worship of money."
The sun's out now, though. Back to servitude and blogging.