October 15: Doldrums, Climbing Out, "Web" Dip

I like the word "doldrums" because it is a perfect combination of sound and definition.  "Doldrums" is a "period of inactivity, stagnation, or depression."  The word itself has a sinking sound, two hard consonants separated by those rolling "ohs" and "ums."  It has the feeling of a windless ocean, with nothing on the horizon for miles but flat, lifeless water.

That pretty much describes my mood.  I've been thinking about my insulin pump dilemma all day.  It's kind of hard not to focus on it, because I've got that loaner pump tucked in my pocket at the moment, feeding me insulin.  I don't really want to give up the pump, but I may not have a choice.  I'm trying to climb out of the doldrums today, but, every time that pump beeps in my pocket, I slide back down into the pit of despair.

Don't worry.  I'll be alright.  I'm just going to wallow for a few days.  I may throw in a few panic attacks and some primal screams for good measure.  By the weekend, I should be back to my normal state of insanity, the doldrums far behind me.  This is one of the God moments where I simply have to hand it over to my Higher Power and trust.  Things will work out.  Things will work out.  Things will work out.  I have to keep repeating that or else I find myself hyperventilating into a paper bag.

Since I didn't do a Web dip on Monday, I will ask this question today:

Will I be able to get another insulin pump without taking out a second mortgage on my house?

And the answer from the Book of Charlotte:

Wilbur hung his head.  His eyes grew wet with tears.  Charlotte noticed his embarrassment and she spoke sharply to the lamb.

Well, that didn't help with my doldrums at all.

Maybe Saint Marty should try a more uplifting book, like The Plague by Albert Camus.

Anybody for a little light reading?

March 31: Easter, New Cartoon

Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!

That was the greeting in church this morning.  I was picking my way across an icy parking lot on my way to the Easter Sunrise service, and a gentleman I know called out to me, "Christ is risen!"  Without missing a beat, I called back, "Christ is risen indeed!"

It's something I learned from the Methodist church.  I don't recall ever hearing anyone using that particular exchange in the Catholic churches I attended as a child.  I think it might sound a little too Pentecostal.  Anything that even hints at arm raising and speaking in tongues is a little suspicious in Catholic circles.  We're more of the candle-lighting, falling-asleep-in-the-pew brand of Christians.

One of my favorite things about Easter is the variety of worship services that take place during the week leading up to today.  There's the dark and solemn (Good Friday).  There's the procession from darkness to light (Easter Vigil).  And then there's raucous and loud (Easter Sunday).  There are many opportunities to feel the presence of the Holy Spirit during Holy Week.

The only problem is that I'm usually pretty tired come Easter Sunday afternoon.  It's all the music and worship, late nights and early mornings.  For instance, I got home from the Easter Vigil at around 11 p.m. last night.  I got to bed around 12:30 a.m., and my alarm went off at 6:30 this morning.  I was at church by 7:15 a.m. to get ready for the Easter Sunrise service at eight o'clock.  This service, which I thought was going to be just left of disaster for various complicated reasons, turned out to be the most beautiful and meaningful.  The readings, music, and message all rocked.

I've had a great Lenten/Easter season.  Lots of surprising God moments.  It's sort of been like today's weather.  Cold and windy sometimes.  Blue sky and sun right now.  That's what it's all about.  Periods of desert and periods of communion.

Christ is risen, Saint Marty.  He's risen indeed..

Confessions of Saint Marty

January 27: New Cartoon

Sundays are my most favorite and least favorite days of the week.

I love Sundays because I get to go to church and participate in worship.  I sing with the chancel choir.  I play and sing with the praise band.  I get to experience some real God moments, when the Holy Spirit fills my heart.  That's what I love about Sundays.

I hate Sundays because it means the end of the weekend.  All the tasks I've been putting off need to be completed.  I grade quizzes.  I write up lesson plans.  I read textbooks.  I set out my work clothes for Monday morning.  I prepare myself for another five days of early mornings, late nights, and lots of work in between.  That's what I hate about Sundays.

Tonight, I will set out my outfit.  I will pack up my books for school.  I will try to hold on to the God moments for a little bit longer.  The SAG Awards are on tonight.  I plan to watch them with my wife and daughter.  We will have some special snacks and spend time together.  Then, when the last award has been handed out, we will brush out teeth and go to bed.

Saint Marty isn't quite ready for another week to begin.  He's ready for some Fritos and vapid banter between shallow actors.

Confessions of Saint Marty