Friday, April 01, 2005


Hey Folks,

Well, there's not too much to report. Life out on the range is much more slow-paced than I would have expected. To be sure, this certainly isn't Green Acres; I don't recall ever seeing ZaZa living next to six peacocks, a bobcat, three horses, and seven cats. Yep, I have a virtual "Wild Discovery" right next door.

Note: Peacocks are beautiful, but terribly annoying. They make HORRIBLE noises and catterwall all bloody night, a tendency which is all the more vexing as they have claimed as their dormitory the tree right outside my bedroom window. I wonder if I couldn't find a recipe for roasted peacock...

At the risk of sounding sentimental - a cardinal sin in the Duns clan - I will say that my weekly "communion calls" to shut-ins have been most touching. I suppose that "I" provide some comfort to these persons as I bring them communion, but it's touching to see the centrality of the Eucharist in their lives. I participate in the Eucharist every day and I have nothing near the reverence these men and women have for the grace of the Real Presence extended to all those willing to gather around the Lord's Table (see, ooshy gushy sentimental stuff!). It's sobering, really, but it forces you to see anew, to look and to enter into the Eucharist with new and searching eyes.

For all who are intersted, I'm campaigning for the new Pope. I have my slogan all picked out: Where there's death, there's hope - Vote Ryan for Pope! I commissioned Gallup and they think I've got a winner. I'm going to ask Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (Ol 'Ratz as I know him) to be my running mate. This is going to be a whole new regime, boys and girls, so buckle up.

For those of you intersted, I love FoodTV. I'm going to make "Chocolate Ricotta Pudding with Strawberry Sauce" on Sunday for dessert. Giada De Laurentis made it the other night and it looks SO GOOD that I just have to try it. I really do love to cook and, if I were ever to leave the Jesuits and fail at being a Chippendale's dancer, I would almost certainly go to culinary school. I might try to be an alligator farmer, but since I hate leather goods, I'd probably settle for cooking.

So that's it. I hope everyone is keeping well and for those of you who haven't sent me a card or written me an email, you'd better get cracking. I'm just itching to spend some of the "spiritual capital" I earned on my 30-day retreat, and I bet God would love to inflict a plague of scabies, headlice, and gout on one of my so-called loved ones who'd forgotten (or neglected) to write me...Mom.


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An Irish Dancer's Blessing

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