From Margalit Fox's obituary of Maxime de la Falaise:

Her mother, Rhoda, an Irish beauty, was considered an eccentric even by the elastic standards of the British Isles. Lady Rhoda often made lobster thermidor, for instance, and then fed it to her roses.

"She would make fish stew and sometimes would forget that she was making it for the garden," Ms. de la Falaise told The Independent in 2004. "So she would add a bit of cognac, some garlic and spices. The roses would almost cry out with pleasure."

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This morning's Mid-South District Assembly worship service was lovely. There was a vase of tall irises in front of the pulpit. The chamber choir sang Malcolm Dalglish's "Broken Ground" and Frank Ticheli's "Earth Song." Tom Owen-Towle preached on "growing the beloved community." His homily included some of his memories of heeding MLK's call to "put your body where the trouble is" by marching to Selma, and he recalled how "Andy" Young would remind the protesters, "What are we here for? We are here to love the hell out of Alabama!"

He also spoke about the need to support "patriotic diversity" (among other kinds) in our congregations, recalling the time he preached against the Iraq war at First UU San Diego (a military community) -- with a congregation member who stood in full uniform throughout the sermon, to remind everyone that there were also UUs who believe the war to be just and necessary. He spoke about leading a men's workshop where several of the attendees were men who were on parole, and how he made eye contact with one man during his preaching who came up afterwards to say, "All my life people have looked down at me for who I wasn't. Today you saw me for who I might become." (Quoting from memory here - not sure those were his exact words, but that was the gist.)

The opening hymns included "Here We Have Gathered," and the closing hymn was "Guide My Feet." One of the side thrills of singing soprano this year is standing next to several women (we shuffle assignments frequently) with gorgeous voices and killer descant chops. Mmm, mmm, mmm.

During her welcome, Rev. Gail observed that here in the South, a number of UUs choose to join a church "as an act of self-defense." Her benediction: "We are here to love the hell out of Alabama. We are here to love the hell out of Georgia, Florida, Mississippi, and Tennessee. This service is over; let our service continue."

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Much herding of ducks into (raggedy) rows, including making official arrangements to leave my body to science whenever fate catches up to me, dithering over whether to pack sneakers (the answer would normally be "hell yes," but I'm restricting myself to just the one backpack and a purse. For a month. This will get interesting...), and sorting out assorted phone/Skype/call-forwarding strategies in hopes of avoiding an astronomical bill come June if I end up having to participate in conference calls. (I'm hoping to elude that fate, but there are multiple agencies involved, and it's not all up to me.) My online subscription to the Chicago Manual of Style is about to pay for itself.

I've indulged in a little peeking at concerts I might attend, churches I hope to visit, etc., but some of that will depend on me being done with my current must-do's -- but I no longer have the stamina to skimp on sleep without getting sick, so it's likely some of those pleasures will have to take a back seat to work. Which, on the one hand, makes me exceedingly annoyed at myself, since, y'know, work is what I do here at home. On the other hand, being away from home is in itself energizing, so even if my first week's sightseeing ends up largely confined to cafes with good wifi, odds are I will still end up happy to be there, getting to note for myself what might be different (how are their condiments packaged and/or presented? what's on the windows and doors? how out of date is my phrasebook?...) and enjoying the change in smells and sounds. (Even going to a new-to-me place in Nashville can give me that kind of joy, when I manage to let myself be fully present.)

In the meantime, home smells like wet dog and almost-finished kitchen. It's time for some hot coffee, carryout sushi, and a fresh attempt to whale through the papers and files on the dining room table. Onwards!