My Saturday started early with a Deacon Ordination Service at the Cathedral downtown and the reception that followed. One of the ordinands was from St. Philip's, so the St. Philip's choir combined with St. Andrew's choir to make beautiful music. One note of explanation to my Baptist friends: our deacons are seminary graduates and actually pastor churches. It's defined like this by Sewanee's helpful page of definitions for non-Episcopalians: Deacon- the initial level of ordination in the Episcopal Church. Unlike protestant churches where Deacon is a lay order, in the Episcopal Church Deacon is a clerical order. Deacons often have special clerical duties; by tradition the Gospel [in the liturgy] is read by the deacon, if a deacon is on the staff of a church or chapel.

It was full of the traditional pageantry and fanfare that I love. One of the ordinands was the son of the bishop and the grandson of the former bishop. I couldn't help but wonder if he's destined for that same office in about 30 years. It seems to be a family tradition.

It was fun to sing for John Paul again. He's been the choirmaster at St. Andrew's for 40 years. There were a couple of people I remembered from my one year of choir service there, but most of them were new to me. We didn't sing anything difficult today, just added descants to beautiful hymns that made them even more beautiful.

I missed Hillary Clinton's concession speech this morning, but I'm sure I can catch it on C-Span tonight. From the few internet news reports I've read, she threw her full support to him. I think it would have been classier for her to do it on Tuesday night instead of waiting until today.

I went shopping after the church service and didn't get home until about 3:00. I knew from the way Mike had parked his car in the middle of the garage that he was drunk. He had lunch with friends and sure enough, he had too many margaritas. By the time I got in the house, he had already started on the wine. Around 4:00, he fell in the floor and rather than calling Art to come help me get him up, like I usually do, I called 911. The EMT's came and checked his vital signs, which were fine, and asked several questions to check his mental alertness, then asked if he thought he needed to go to the hospital. He adamantly refused, so they couldn't take him.

However, if they get another call within 24 hours, they don't have to have his consent. They will haul him to St. Dominic's where his blood alcohol level will be checked and documented and where his cardiologist and his neurologist can give him the ultimatum he needs to hear, and possibly commit him to rehab. The last time Art and I got him out of the floor, he fell again that same night, so he may do that again tonight.

In the meantime, I'm going to the pool to watch the sunset. There are enough clouds in the sky that it's bound to be pretty. We've started a community custom of gathering on the pool deck around 7 PM, everybody brings their own drink, and we visit while the sun goes down.

Hasta la vista, Baby!