I’ve followed Camille’s mustang training for a bit, and love this theatrical, brilliant routine she did at a recent competition.
If you work out at the gym or walk the dog for exercise, and feel the need for some adrenaline, enjoy this ridiculous sport in which energetic young men race down mountains on mountain bikes, starting at the very top, on the glaciers, and ending at the very bottom, in some little village. It takes about 30 minutes of concentration and a bit of luck to make it to the bottom in one piece.
I started out making a conscious effort not to ever wear liturgical colors. Every parish I went to had some lady neatly turned out in a red, green, or purple outfit to match the season and the feast. I remember being self-conscious enough not to wear purple when it wasn’t Lent. But then when it was Lent I also didn’t wear purple, so as not to match. Green was even easier, since I didn’t have any green clothes. For Saint Patrick’s day I put on a ceramic brooch with a green flower on it.
Red was my downfall. I love red, and have lots of red clothes. Sometimes I’d accidentally wear red on a martyr’s feast, but I was rarely caught off guard by the seasonal cycles and deliberately didn’t wear red on Pentecost or the feast of the Sacred Heart.
I must say the effort put into the outfits by those matching ladies I’ve seen was remarkable. It wasn’t a matter of a red tee-shirt or purple dress. It was in every case complex outfits comprising blouses, skirts, jackets, hats, shoes and purses. The style was a rather indeterminate early to mid 20th century. It was both very self-conscious and also admirable for the effort.
I don’t imagine I’ll ever reach those starry heights, but today, despite it being the feast of the Sacred Heart, I found myself reaching for a red blouse and heart necklace. Whatever reticence I used to have has been replaced by a cheerful sense of fun.