A psalm for Palm Sunday

King Jesus
why did you choose
a lowly ass
to carry you
to ride in your parade?
Had you no friend
who owned a horse
— a royal mount with spirit
fit for a king to ride?
Why choose an ass
small unassuming
beast of burden
trained to plow
not carry kings.

King Jesus
why did you choose
a lowly unimportant person
to bear you
in my world today?
I’m poor and unimportant
trained to work
not carry kings
— let alone the King of Kings
and yet you’ve chosen me
to carry you in triumph
in this world’s parade.
King Jesus
keep me small
so all may see
how great you are
keep me humble
so all may say
Blessed is he who cometh in the name of the Lord
not what a great ass he rides.

Joseph Bayly

Psalms of My Life

Extraordinary Andy

Betty went back to the home of her youth on the weekend: always good for a giggle, don’t you find. While she was there, she had the privilege of viewing some of her small sister’s art. The child, as devoted readers will know, is a genius. Read it and weep.

(no relation)

Inner-city beach mish

The other day, Betty and the boy person friend had almost an entirely free day together, and so they scurried into Ponsonby to have some brunch.

This proved to be kind of a bad idea, because it was almost completely impossible to park the car, and the Society for the Improvement of the Streets of This Our City, or some such people, had blocked off one side of the road, and roads in Auckland run forever in one direction, which makes it difficult to turn around. Betty, however, kept a cool head, and parked the car an extremely long way away in a quiet residential street. It was leafy and pleasant.

Then Betty and the boy person walked along more quiet residential streets until they found the cafes, and they sat down and ate in a leisurely fashion. Betty had peppermint tea and amused herself with a wedge of lemon.

But then! When they went back to the car, the boy person friend spied the water from the end of the street, and so they went down some steps and found a nice little beach sitting right there.

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The Brothers Bloom

The boy person friend ummed and ahhed a little before deciding to show Betty The Brothers Bloom. It turns out he had seen the trailer and suspected that the film was nothing more than a ho-hum heist movie. Indeed, had /Film not suggested otherwise, he might have let it utterly pass him by.

He also has an irrational disinclination to like Rachel Weisz, which Betty finds remarkable. Rachel Weisz, surely, is one of the modern masters of the simultaneously brains-before-beauty and deprived-of-oxygen-at-birth-for-just-a-wee-moment, just-as-well-father-has-money kind of effect otherwise made so famous by Nigella Lawson. How could anyone resist?

You perceive? At any rate, Betty enjoyed The Brothers Bloom very greatly. It is an energetic semi-fantastical caper in which Adrien Brody and Mark Ruffalo play notorious, albeit one-trick, con-men. After an unfortunate childhood, succinctly covered — in rhyme — in the first reel, the brothers develop a signature con, which they use to great effect in a number of lucrative jobs. But Adrien Brody, the sensitive one, finds the whole thing hard to stomach; his more beefy brother has to drag him bodily from a foreign clime to perform what he promises will be their last job.

Rachel Weisz is the mark, a beautiful heiress named Penelope who collects hobbies and takes fits. Along with the obvious tasks of falling in love with the sensitive brother and saying quirky things with her eyebrows, she does wonders for the plot.

And, not to be girly, but she has an amazing wardrobe. The cape… the hat… the endless coats… the whole thing is quite delicious.