It seems to me that the mathematically inclined always casually ask their math-questions aloud to everyone around them: "How many tablespoons in a pint?"; "How many sandwiches can we make with these 18 loaves of bread when each loaf has 23 pieces?"; "Is 437 a prime number?"
I have never been very good at math-on-the-spot, and it always seems that this is one skill that I am always quizzed about in public. No one ever asks me to diagram a sentence at coffee hour, or spell novemdigitate at dinner. But the math whiz will always do his or her cogitations aloud expecting me to jump in and help out. If I don't have a pencil and paper in front of me, I don't bother any more.
(answers: 32; 207; and no)
We measured and cut, and sometimes embarrassed ourselves with our poor math and geometry skills. We had two sewing machines and one ironing board. It was a good combination. My job was to iron the seams so the fabric could be easily sewn. Sarah and Nell did all the sewing.
It occurred to me how these blue coverings are an example of the vitality of the Church. Currently we use obviously homemade analogia coverings, inherited from the ladies in DC, NY, NJ, and maybe other places. They might be a little oily or burnt in places, but they are still very nice. These coverings were obviously in place for many years: for many services and amongst many of the Faithful.
It could be that my thinking about thinking instead of just thinking about the tasks themselves is what's causing the problem. Maybe I have a finite number of synapses available to me in each day and this redundancy is using them all up. Sometimes in these "peripheral" moments I will plan how a table with special color-coding is the answer to all of my difficulties. Other times I conceive of intricately designed spreadsheets with repeating formulas and delight in how this will solve my problems with planning each week's assignments.
I wonder if this is diagnosable...
But then, tonight I hear Fr Mark discussing Irenaeus' Against Heresies with Rose in her History class. "...it's the Void. If you say there is nothing there then there must be something there or you wouldn't be able to say there was nothing there. Do you see?"
And Rose says, "yes."
Then he says professorially, "I think we will end there."
And then I wonder if it is not really me but just too much danged philosophy in my house.
Or too much.