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The Mission This Sunday is the 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time. The gospel is from the opening verses of the Matthean Missionary Discourse. In the previous two posts we explored the intention and meaning of the geographical limitations placed on the Twelve’s commissioning. In this post we examine two simple verses that provide the framework for the mission itself: “As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The… The Mission
To the lost sheep This Sunday is the 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time. The gospel is from the opening verses of the Matthean Missionary Discourse. In the previous post we discussed Jesus’ commissioning of the Twelve but noted the geographical limitations on the mission. It is worth exploring this limitation a bit more. R.T France [2007, 381] notes: “Jesus is the Messiah of God’s people Israel (Mt 2:6), coming in… To the lost sheep
Packard Twelve - 1935 Rebodied ‘Ask the man who has got one.’ That was the advertising slogan of Packard, the purveyor of luxury on four wheels to prosperous Americans in the Roaring Twenties. Unfortunately, the Wall Street Crash and the Great Depression changed all that. In the 1930s, Packard was forced to switch to modest ‘middle of the road’ cars. During those difficult economic years, there was no great need for fancy limousines. They were very few and far between. Perhaps that is why Ivan Mahy didn’t hesitate for a second in the 1970s when he was given the chance to get his hands on a rare pre-Second World War Packard V12. The seller only wanted 15,000 francs for it. ‘A real bargain,’ Mahy must have thought. But that was before he saw the terrible state of the coachwork: the car was almost unrecognisable as a Packard. After the war, a closed body had been mounted on the long 1930s chassis, making the car seem heavy and clumsily large. The long bonnet looked like a shiny black coffin! Yet not withstanding its huge overall size, there was hardly enough space inside to sit down. The neglected radiator grill of the blunt nose had the appearance of a set of bad teeth, vaguely suggestive of a Buick from the war years, which was probably used as a model for the Packard’s ‘revamping’. The brand’s characteristic silver pelican had flown south for the winter, but a chrome plate screwed to the dashboard informed anyone who was interested of the previous owner’s name. This name was almost undecipherable under several layers of varnish, but was eventually identified as that of Baron De Wangen de Geroldseck, an aristocrat from the Vosges region of France, but with connections in Brussels. There, however, the trail ran cold. The name of De Wangen de Geroldseck, together with the family who bore it, was eradicated in the Nazi concentration camps. As a result of the United State’s pre-war policy of isolation, the Packard V12 was originally only intended for the American market. Only a handful were ever shipped across the Atlantic to Europe. One is known to have been taken into service by the Belgian royal family. Was this royal cabriolet converted during or after the war into this monster with the hideous coachwork? Who can say? The Mahys christened the 1935 Packard ‘Lord Dracula’ and later in the decade of its purchase it won first prize at a concours d’élégance for old-timers: not as the most beautiful car in the competition, but as the ugliest! For many years, Ivan Mahy cherished the hope that he might one day find an original body for the 6-metre long V12. But he never did. V12 Mahy - a Family of Cars 09/09/2021 - 31/10/2021 Vynckier Site Nieuwevaart 51-53 Gent Belgium Exterior Dimensions Wheelbase: 144.3 in (3,664 mm) Overall Length: 223.3 in (5,671 mm) Overall Width: 74.0 in (1,880 mm) Overall Height : 71.0 in (1,803 mm) Track Front Track : 60.0 in (1,524 mm) Rear Track : 61.0 in (1,549 mm ) Wheels & Tyres - Tyre Size: 7.50 x 17 (7.50-17) - Wheel Size: 17-inch diameter (wire wheels were standard for the Twelve seri es) Rated for heavy-weight and high torque - Whitewalls: Many owners opt for wide whitewall radials from specialty manufacturers like Coker Tire to maintain the authentic 1930s look while improving driving dynamics. Brake Details: - Type: 4-wheel drum brakes, mechanically operated, with vacuum-assist (often referred to as a “servo” system). - System: The 1935 model continued to use mechanical, rather than hydraulic, brakes (contrary to some later Packard models that switched to hydraulic, or junior series that featured them earlier). - Operation: The system was highly refined to be smooth, utilizing vacuum assist to help reduce the pedal effort required to stop the large car. - Size: While specific drum diameter/width dimensions are not commonly listed in all catalogs, the 1935 Packard Twelve utilized a robust system, with parts often interchangeable with other “senior” Packard models of that ye ar. Fuel The 1935 Packard Twelve, including sedan and coupe models (1407/1408), is equipped with a large 25 US gallon (30 UK gallon or 113.7 litre) fuel tank. This large capacity was necessary to accommodate the 12-cylinder engine’s fuel consumption for long-distance luxury touring. The 1935 Packard Twelve, equipped with a 473-cubic-inch V12 engine, typically delivers very low fuel economy, generally in the range of 6 to 9 miles per gallon (MPG). These luxury vehicles, weighing over 5,000 lbs, were designed for power rather than efficiency, with 6–7 MPG being considered standard for the era.
The Commission This Sunday is the 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time. The gospel is from the opening verses of the Matthean Missionary Discourse. In the previous post we discussed the summoning and significance of the 12 disciples called “apostles” (this one and only time in Matthew) and later called “the Twelve.” In this post The commission of the Twelve is spelled out in strictly functional terms as an extension of… The Commission
Happiness is when you can use your hyperfixations in uni papers 🥰 I’m currently writing a paper about Blok’s poem “Twelve”, and I’ve already decided that my final thesis would be about Blok’s works, too. (I wanted to write thesis about Akutagawa-sensei, but I was told I have to be fluent in Japanese for this 😔)
What happens when a crime drama starts looking a little too much like the headlines? Peter Capaldi and Cush Jumbo break down Criminal Record Season 2, the moral tightrope their characters walk, and why the story feels even more relevant now. Peter Capaldi and Cush Jumbo on Criminal Record, Moral Compromise, and Looking Ahead: Podcast #CriminalRecord #PeterCapaldi
0.273 ⌜ 𝗗𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 ⌟ ᴏɴʟʏ ɢᴏᴅ ᴄᴀɴ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. 2025, ɪ’ᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ! 🤍 ———————————————————— 📍 West Hollywood, California 📸 in Alchemy 🖌️ in Gimp ———————————————————— ⌜𝗙𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗦⌟ BRIOR | @brior .sl / @thinkbri ┏ Evie Set ┣ Wearing Heels. ┗ Mainstore | Brior/121/102/2585 Kosmetics | @kosmetic .sl ┏ Onika (Set) ┣ Wearing Dress & Mirror. ┗ Mainstore | Silver Crest/108/218/42 VIPERA | @vipera_sl ┏ Baby Boomer - Square Nails ┗ TSA | TSA/131/130/3501 ┏ Zoe Rings ┗ Mainstore | Utopia%20Isles/155/143/3977 ┏ Vipera Blogger Gift ┣ Modified Pose. ┗ GIFT ⌜𝗗𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗦⌟ TWELVE | @sl.twelve ┏ Cherie Set ┗ Tres Chic | Tres Chic/161/138/133 ⌜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗢𝗥⌟ Maui | @Maui_sl ┏ Lumen Passage Backdrop ┗ Mainstore | Maddox/181/187/102 ――――――――――――――――――――――――――― DEESSESTYLES | THEGODDESS | ICONIC ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――
Better now Summary: After the events of twelve, Celine has a hard time dealing with the aftermath. Pairing: Sloane x Celine Warning: Talk of death and killing, some intamacy (Nothing more than the books themselves) WC: 1097 Sloane had finally finished her classes for the day. She hadn’t seen Celine in a few days since she was on the job. Now, she paced in front of her door waiting for Cwline to open it. She had told her to come over with no other details. Sloane wondered what she had one. She started counting the tiles on the ceiling before Celine opened the door. Celine’s face was puffy with dark circles around her eyes. “Thanks for coming. You must be swamped with schoolwork, and it means a lot that you came. Celine opened the door to her apartment and let Sloane in. Sloane had only been inside once now; she didn’t know what to do, or what she did. Celine sat on her bed and gestured for Slaone to sit next to her. That was when Sloane saw the bags under her eyes, a sure sign she wasn’t sleeping. “How’ve you been, Blondie?” Celine asked casually. “School has been fine,” Sloane replied hesitantly. “That’s good.” Celine looked at the floor. Sloane still wasn’t sure what she had done wrong, or what Celine would do. So she did what she thought Celine would do for her, what she had done for her. Sloane took two fingers and tilted Celine’s head up to meet her eyes. “What’s wrong, Celine? You have never called me to come over to you. You make eye contact at least twelve times per conversation. You have bags under your eyes only 0.7% of the time. And you have never made small talk with me before.” Celine chuckled at Sloanes anlysis. Sloane felt her shoulders relax slightly; it couldn’t be serious because otherwise Celine wouldn’t have chuckled. “I just wanted someone to talk to, I was lonely.” Celine wasn’t lying; she was lonely, but that wasn’t the only reason she had called Sloane. She needed someone to talk to. She killed a man. “Oh, I’ve been lonely too,” Sloane confessed. “So tell me, what’s a new thing you learned this week?” Sloane paused and thought for a moment before telling Celine thirty statistics she had learned about masquerades. Almost fifteen minutes later, Sloane paused and stared at Celine. “You’re-you’re not listening.” Sloane felt tears well in her eyes. A lot of people didn’t listen to her. Even her friends liked her. Even in deadly scenarios. Even her father. But Celine had never not listened to Sloane. She always listened to what Sloane had to say. She always seemed interested. What had she done wrong? “Oh, Sloane, no, it’s not you, I was just-” “What did I do!?” Sloane blurted, verbalizing the fear she had had since she walked in. Sloane winced and shut her eyes, waiting for Celine to yell. But only silence followed, other than the soft sniffling from Celine. Sloane opened her eyes and saw Celine trying to wipe away tears. Sloane didn’t know what to do when people cried. “What’s wrong?” Sloane asked, finally deciding she wouldn’t be able to mess anything up by asking for more information. Celine sniffled again. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, Sloane. Nothing’s wrong.” That wasn’t true. Celine hadn’t meant to upset Sloane, but something was wrong. Celine felt the world closing in around her. Sloane didn’t know much about lying, but she was 76% sure Celine wasn’t telling the whole truth. “What’s really wrong?” Sloane asked again. “It’s stupid,” Celine answered. “Stupid is a synonym for idiotic!” Sloane blurted before adding, “It’s not stupid.” Celine let out a forced laugh before running a hand through her hair. “Do you really want to know?” Clein asked, tears spilling from her eyes. Sloane would do anything to help Celine, didn’t she know that? “Of course.” “I killed a man. A man who wasn’t sound. He killed three teenagers, I had to Sloane, but-but what if there was something else? I could have done something else. There had to be something I could have said differently that would have made him put down the gun. Something else to make him put McKenzie down. I know it’s part of the job, but I killed a man, Sloane.” Sloane didn’t know what to do to help Celine. So she did the only thing she knew how to do to help; she threw her arms around Celine in a hug. Celine wrapped her arms around Sloane’s. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sloane reassured. Celine knew that. She saved McKenzie. “But I could have-” Sloane understood what Celine felt. She had felt the same way when her brother died. What could I have done differently? “Analyzing different scenarios won’t change my mind. And, it won’t change anything. You’ll only hurt yourself, I know, and-and I won’t let you do that!” Celine paused. She was going to ask more, going to ask about Sloane’s comment, but she decided against it. Sloane refused to let go of Celine. After a few moments, Celine pulled away. “Do you really think so. Do you really think I did the right thing, Sloane? Be honest, from a purely analytical point?” Sloane didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do,” Sloane said confidently. Then, Sloane kissed Celine. They had kissed before. But it was the first time Sloane had initiated it. Celine was surprised at first, but didn’t pull away. She wanted this. She needed this. She needed Sloane. She loved her. But Celine couldn’t tell her that. Not yet anyway. Instead, Celine kissed Sloane back, forgetting about the desision she made, about the man she shot. Sloane was the first to pull away. Celine fell backwards onto her bed. Sloane paused and stared. “C’mon, Blondie, live a little,” Celine laughed. “Technically, I’m living right now.” Celine smiled and tugged on Sloane’s arm until she fell next to her. Sloane felt almost at home at Celine’s apartment. Celine was grateful someone was with her. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if Sloane hadn’t come. She hadn’t slept in days. Maybe that was what drove her next decision, maybe it was pure feeling, but she knew what she was doing was right. “I love you, Sloane.” Sloane looked at Celine like a deer in headlights and then started to smile. “I love you too.” Celine leaned closer and kissed Sloane, joy filling her heart. This was right. This was how she was going to spend the rest of her days. Once they pulled away, Sloane looked down at the bed. Celine tilted her chin up. “You have to go home, don’t you?” Celine asked. “I’m supposed to….but I don’t want to.” Celine smirked. “Then don’t.”
Still such a shame that Peter Capaldi never did a Doctor Who plug on The Late Late Show.
Death at the Easter Egg Scramble (Pelican Shores #12) by Bessie Barr [REVIEW] SYNOPSIS At Pelican Shores’ Easter Egg Scramble, the kids are hunting eggs, while Finn Dockrey stumbles into murder.Finn arrives at the City Golf Course next to the Bunny Bay gazebo expecting coffee, sunshine, and enough pastel chaos to last a lifetime. Instead, she gets a scream from the back nine and a dead caddy floating in the water hazard, along with a plugged-in vintage toaster. Nothing… Death at the Easter Egg Scramble (Pelican Shores #12) by Bessie Barr [REVIEW]
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