Miracle of the Sun repeated, Cataract surgery, and anesthesia-dreams about Fr. Z

I finally had cataract surgery - at such a young age - I know!  Everyone remarked about me being so young and thin and handsome and how much they liked my full head of hair, but I digress.

Seriously, my doctor said it was an extraordinarily large cataract, which is why I heard all the Star Trek type noises from the ultra sound cataract vaporization equipment.  The surgery went well.  A few hours ago I already returned from my post-op and everything seems to be going well.  So we'll see - I have many drops to use.  As I write, the lap top screen is really, really bright now - so I may not be online very much.  (My expose of more-Catholic-than-the-Pope-fanatics will have to wait.)  Thanks to all the (two) people who wished me well before I went in for surgery yesterday.  What would one do without friends, huh?  Again, I digress.

Where do cataracts come from, Dad?

(Cats always want to know.)  Well, I spent too much time in the sun, without ever using sunglasses.  That was bad enough.  But I'm thinking looking directly at the sun may have contributed to the problem, disorder, what have you.

Frequently, at false apparition sites, people shout 'miraculo!  miraculo!' while pointing at the sun, and then everyone looks up to see it.  I fell for that several times at San Damiano in Italy as well as at a couple of other places, some approved, others not - Fr. Gino's ...

It doesn't matter where these things happened - because I'm quite sure someone in your parish probably sees the sun spinning in their backyard all the time, in between locutions about the anti-Pope.  Just don't go there, however.  I stupidly looked up, directly into a stationary sun - too many times.  Don't be so flipping gullible.

All I'm saying is, don't ever do that.

Anesthesia.  I used to love that stuff.  Not so much anymore.  The effects remained with me through the night.  I had nightmares about Fr. Z.  Candice Bergen was the prioress of a Poor Clare monastery and she was curator of an exhibition of my art, which Fr. Z was trying to destroy and then I exposed his connections to a money-laundering scheme he was conducting by increasing the number of donation apps on his website, setting monthly fundraising goals beyond imagining.  His cronies and followers were sent after me to kill me and destroy my artwork and writings - crazy Tenth Crusader people were after me and I took refuge in the Poor Clare enclosure - where it turns out Candice Bergen was just portraying St. Clare in a docu-drama on monastics who made Medieval GIF's instead of illuminations.  We were making it for Steven Spielberg.  Which was another reason why Fr. Z wanted me killed.

Isn't that sad though?  Not that anyone wanted me killed, but it's sad my hallucinations were about the blog and blogging personalities and stupid rumor mongering.  None of that is real.  None of it - even if you live off of donations - that is not real life.

Oh!  I don't like drugs no mo!

Happy New Year!

If you are having visions and seeing solar miracles,

wear sunglasses.