April 2, 2016 – a bone from the forearm of St. Jude is in the silver case in the foreground as communion is prepared. A first class relic, touching our wedding bands to the relic means they are now 3rd class relics. At St. Michael the Archangel in Snohomish, Washington.
Our parish now has on display a copy of the icon of the 21 Coptic Martyrs of Libya. I also learned today that the commemoration date for their murder at the hands of ISIS is my birthday.
What madness lately. A head cold bad enough to prompt me to present ID to buy Sudafed, followed by a root canal, followed by pulling a muscle in my lower back so badly that I could barely walk for three days. And all I was doing was getting dressed.
The last one is most likely due to a very weak core from too much sitting, sitting too long without a break, working while sitting on a couch, and limited exercise. And that’s because I crave “Likes” and attaboys and I get that mostly from work.
I need to break that addiction pronto. Before it kills me.
And the back ache also has roots in my nervous tension. This isn’t the first time my back has thrown a fit. I need to let go of the need to be in control. My anxieties are eating me alive.
But again, it comes back to what happens in the bedroom and what happens in real life. I can enjoy things in the context of sex or flirting that I don’t want to happen in my day-to-day life.
From Stop Telling Me What I’m Supposed to Like (warning, somewhat graphic, you’ve been warned)
An older post, but this really makes sense to me. Just because you enjoy certain things doesn’t make you a misogynist, or invalidate your feminism.