Some of you may have noticed that there haven't been many updates on this blog for some time. Besides the fact that I one day woke up and suddenly realized that perhaps I should get a life, there's also the fact that we in Rome are immersed in the midst of finals, while trying to balance the difficult task of having as much fun as humanly possible. This blog has fallen a tad to the wayside.
And so, to distract you from the fact that there haven't been very many pretty photos lately to allow you to vicariously live the awesome lives that we Romans lead and to alleviate some of the burden of your own mind-numbing existence, I thought perhaps it would do well to distract you all with this one.
Julian has admitted that it is appropriate that he pay penance for not putting his own two cents into this blog on a more regular basis, but questions whether or not promulgating this photo to the world might be a little too severe. I think it is appropriate.
Clint's suffering is purely gratuitous.
And so enjoy the pretty picture.
Commenti
Now what?
And no, Kathryn, we're not as crazy as we seem. Usually we sit around sipping tea and talking about the recent trends in the stock-market with faux British accents. Oh no...wait...that's someone else. Never mind.
I'm am not quite sure in my mind, but ask Julian's dad if he has ever before met a man by the name of Mr. Bloch. Mr. Bloch, whose actual first name I've forgotten, is a member of the Chesterton society and I was wondering if the two knew each other.
You see, Mr. Bloch's sons are good friends of mine from Saint Gregory's Academy and I recently learned that Julian's father had oh, well . . . some slight connection with that Society (to say the least). I just thought it might be of interest to you or, if not you, maybe Julian's father would be interested in knowing that the Bloch family is doing well.
The Incindiary One,
Becket Adams
P.S. This same Bloch family had a son named Peter. His middle name is Hilaire (get it? Peter Hilaire Bloch? Is that not the most excellent name to have?)
P.P.S Who sits around with phony British accents talking about the stock market? And what in the world does "faux" mean? Isn't that something that Englishmen hunt with a bunch of dogs?
God Bless and enjoy your last days in the seat of Catholicism. Say hello to Clint for me and be sure to tell him that Becket says that he's "all out of love" without him.
In return for such an amazing picture and distraction, I would like to return the favor. I could point and laugh, and go through the whole "neener neener, you have tests and I don't" thing, but I won't. I'm too nice. I'll pray for you all instead.
Believe me, Kathryn, from someone who knows, you have no idea what you are in for next semester when these guys come back...
Have a great last week!
This has a bunch of pictures set up by the girls over there.