slow Saturday

 It was another very humid day today, and a thunderstorm came along in the middle of it - not too bad, and Dolly and I stopped our work and rested while the wind blew the rain against the north windows, and I said my rosary with my plastic beads. A violent storm is an opportunity for praying, or waiting, but not much else. I have a plastic rosary given to me by a priest who got a bunch of them when he was on retreat in the Holy Land; he gave them out one Easter. I always reach for them during electrical storms. 

The Orphan turned three the other day. She's definitely more sedate, or maybe I should say she's less crazy, less often. But I recently noticed she will sleep for hours on a full tummy, which seems a little much for someone so young. I can't help but wonder if she feels left out, watching us give so much attention to the high-maintenance Dolly. Or is she bored in our small house? She has always played so well by herself that we don't feel too guilty if we aren't playing with her, but I think she's been feeling it. So, I'm making her wait longer now between meals and making her play for a while when I have a minute. She already seems better, poor thing. She's so good natured, and I'm afraid she's been wondering where she fits in. That's awful, isn't it? 

I've been reading a book about another of our founders, a man named Gouverneur Morris. I chose this book because I found out he wrote the preamble to our Constitution. I had no idea. The others liked the way he worded things, in the same way they like the way Jefferson worded things for the Declaration. Morris had an interesting life, - spent ten years in France when things were starting to simmer and then boil - I learned a lot about that time from reading this. He seemed sensible and very likeable to me,  despite the fact he had numerous affairs with married women. Why is it easier for me to excuse the same failings in those from the past, than for those alive now? Maybe because the former are in God's hands now, and have gotten their reward or punishment, and being angry with them won't make any difference to anything. 

"To try to do good, to avoid evil, a little severity for oneself, a little indulgence for others - this is the means to obtain some good result out of our poor existence. To love one's friends, to be beloved by them - this is the means to brighten it."

                                        -  Gouverneur Morris, from Gentleman Revolutionary by Richard Brookhiser