"full of stone-sober people who are drunk on liturgy"

- Kathleen Norris

I've been reading Kathleen Norris's Cloister Walk in preparation for living in a convent, and it's actually really good. I wasn't expecting to like it (basically because I don't like nonfiction books in general, and if it's shelved in the inspirational section, count me out). It makes a lot of connections between the poetic life and the monastic life, which I think helps articulate why so many poets I know really like liturgy. Also it talks about the basic concepts behind the vows of celibacy that I've never heard discussed before in the light of monastic tradition. I'm about halfway through, and it's interesting enough that I might actually finish it (not something I can say about many nonfiction books). I am not so optimistic about Brunelleschi's Dome.

Aaron is sick today. Hopefully he will get better soon, 'cause it's some nasty kind of flu crap. Definitely not cool.

Mom told me a funny story today. So, in the true ecumenical spirit (pretty sure I used that word completely wrong) I'm going to share it with all of you, including my own special little embellishments.

ZOMBIE DUCK

Once upon a time there was a man. This man, like many men in America today, drove a car. One day, as he was driving along, jiving to his music, he ran over a duck and killed it stone dead. He thought, Why, this is a plump duck. It would be a shame to waste it. So he took the duck home and put it in his fridge for dinner at a future date. His wife thought Oh great, a bloody dead duck in my fridge waiting to be plucked and cleaned and cooked, but she was fond of a good duck l'orange herself, so she put up with it.

Two days later, when she opened the fridge to pour out a delicious glass of her favorite beverage, the duck raised its head.

The wife considered screaming "ZOMBIE DUCK!", slamming the fridge door, screaming her lungs out and then fetching her husband's shotgun to finish the undead creature off, but ultimately rejected this reasonable course of action. Instead, she took the duck out and rushed it to the veterinarian, somehow making the gargantuan leap of understanding to realize that the duck was, in fact, completely and absurdly alive.

At the vet's, they took drastic measures to save the life of the eponymous duck, even performing surgery. Unfortunately, the duck had a rare allergic reaction to the anesthesia the vet administered. Still, the duck decided that since it had survived being hit with a car and spending two days in a refrigerator without dying, it was not going to let a little medication mishap prevent it from flying south once again. So it lived. And lives on, to this day.

Except that a small minority believes it is undead to this day.