I am sitting in an overly warm living room at my round glass table with a big fan aimed in my direction. I can see the bushes outside swaying in the breeze, but the cool ocean air appears to be only out there, not making its way through the windows and doors of our house, which are all wide open. Here we are almost to October and the heat here in Los Angeles remains oppressive. We Angelinos are not accustomed to this and there is a general feeling of suffering in the air. Yes, we are a spoiled lot, as you might suspect. Anything above 85 feels warmish and above 90 is unbearable. Mid-70’s is where we all prefer to be, and as it turns out, the weather accommodates almost all year. Except now.
I am due to leave in 2 hours to serve as the thurifer at a Vigil Mass. Just in case you don’t know what a thurifer is, it’s the acolyte wearing the long black robe and white cotta (smock) who carries around the burning incense boat. Now, I am delighted to have this new job at church. It’s taken only almost 60 years for me to be allowed what most 12-year-old boys routinely do, but never mind that. The gist of this musing is how HOT I’m going to be in that church in all those robes carrying a little heater at a time when the sun will be bearing down at its warmest. I have already resolved to strip off everything except the essentials when I’m wearing those robes. Surprisingly, many of my male counterparts wear all of their clothes under the robes and almost pass out from the heat. Being a woman who is used to wearing dresses, I think nothing of skinnying down when I’m robing up. Alas, even that effort, might still not make for a cool afternoon at church.
I have a student arriving in just a minute to work on his college essay. I will close for now. Just think of me at 5 pm Pacific time. That’s when I’ll be marching sans pantalons into church.
I don’t expect Jesus will mind…
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