Mass this morning was even chattier than is usual on a weekday, (more crowded, solidarity with 9-11 victims, I believe.)
A woman sitting perhaps five feet from me spoke, (I will assume in charity she thought she was whispering....,) for a good twenty minutes straight before Mass, about me .
Since she referred to me by name, critiqued what I was wearing, and got enough details about me and Himself right, I am possibly not mistaken that I was her target, although I don't know her.
She at first, (this was a year ago,) misled by my hat and towering height, (that's right, five feet four and change,) thought I was a "man with a pony tail."
She likes my voice okay.
She thinks I keep my mother prisoner in her house, that I'm "in charge," prevent her going out to lunch with her friends, etc.
Mom's hearing is bad enough that she did not notice any of this, thankfully.
But I feel quite like Tom Sawyer, or was it Huck Finn? at his own funeral.
Universalis, your very own breviary in pixels...
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