All the fun....and no mosquitoes
Tom Abbott suggests this fun way to replay the summer. From the comfort of your own home.

Gag me with a spoon...........
Victor Lams gives a link to an extremely irritating article about some delusional women in Michigan. I’m glad I read the whole article before shutting down the computer and running out in search of some tranquilizing chocolate. If you read far enough into the article, they also introduce Ave Maria Law School Professor Nora O’Callaghan, the former head of the Respect Life Office for the Archdiocese of Chicago. There have to be some sane folks representing the truth. Unfortunately, most of the article focused on the escapees from the CTA/CFFC/WomanChurch Circus.


Victor also has a link to a picture of him doing his Fred Astaire best at a wedding reception.
Nice moves.

...........one diaper at a time
Bill White has some good things to say about the sanctifying work of parenthood, especially at the times when it is the most aesthetically repugnant. (Reading his piece brought back many memories. Sweet might not be the word. But they’re etched on my mind and heart just the same. Like the time I had at least two little ones in bed with me. During the early morning hours they became ill along all points of the digestive tract, but not so ill that they woke me up with loud complaints. So I had a general waking that led to the sensation that something was not quite right in the bed, sort of like the scene in The Godfather where movie mogul Jack Woltz wakes up to find a horse head in his bed. Only mothers of sick children cannot scream at the top of their lungs - as much as they would like to - but must confine themselves to a few “dear, dears,” and “oh, you poor babies.”)

This also reminds me of a fabulous (and unfortunately out-of-print) book by the late Catholic maternal humorist author Theresa Bloomingdale. In I Should Have Seen it Coming When the Rabbit Died, she talks about the rich opportunities that parenthood provides for carrying out the corporal works of mercy: for instance, feeding the poor can included nursing the baby, making stacks of PB&J sandwiches, baking birthday cakes...........clothing the naked can run the gamut from baby’s diapers to sports uniforms right up to a bride’s gown. This is such a funny book, but one that can wring a few tears from me, too. I was hoping to catch it when the inevitable discard came up, and I missed it. AAARRGH. And after all those years I kept checking it out every once in a while, just to keep it in circulation.

Ivory, 24th Street, Flag

Was just taking a sanity break and playing on the computer. I noticed that Eve Tushnet gave me a very nice mention........I am most appreciative. And she certainly has me pegged. Mad homeschooler is a good definition for me today.

Mondays are always difficult. (I was born on a Tuesday, probably God’s way of giving me 6 days to prepare myself for my first Monday.) Today is typical. By about 3:00, I’m ready to jump out the window next to the school table. This wouldn’t help, since the window is a sliding door and the whole student body would just follow me anyway.

There was a visit we made to the neurologist ,about five years ago, with one of my sons. The doctor did the usual neurologist thing, including saying, “I’m going to tell you three words. I’ll ask you later to see if you remember them. Ivory, 24th Street, Flag.” The words were remembered. The doctor was pleased. Six months later, the words were told to the neurologist again. With the question, “When can I forget them?” Ivory, 24th Street, Flag is still blowing around our house. Chuck will blurt this phrase out - totally unrelated to what is going on. It has even become something of a joke, as in, “Hey, Chuck, Dr. Swisher called. He said you can forget Ivory, 24th Street, Flag.”

Three words so easily learned. While we struggle with math facts that float thru our brains like fine sand thru a sieve, these three words stick. Some things are soooo excruciatingly difficult and other things stick like glue. And I never can predict what is going to be relatively easy and what is going to become a Sisyphean task. It keeps the job interesting.

Oh, well. Enough of my complaining. Time for Jeopardy and then off to my ‘fun’ job at Church. I have this down to a science. Since I am relatively low maintenance, I can perform my beauty routine and change my clothes during the break before final Jeopardy and be out the door by the time the final credits roll. And tomorrow will be another day.........

And thanks again to Eve. (My Google referrals aren’t nearly as interesting. I do seem to have tapped a rich vein in the tin tinsel set, tho.)

2 interesting articles......
Catholic Light points out how a culture of ‘mere choice’ rots society’s core as demonstrated by Tennessee Williams’ classic A Streetcar Named Desire. (n.b. - That’s Tennessee Willliams, not Tennessee Tuxedo)

For homeschoolers who might have that Sunday night lull in enthusiasm, Verus Ratio has Your Children Are Not Safe (From Liberals) Anywhere, Anytime, with a link to to a FrontPage Magazine article

The Little Girl Who Went to Bed an Hour Earlier Every Night
My favorite story as a child was called, “The Little Girl Who Went to Bed an Hour Earlier Every Night. This was a short tale of a little girl who was feeling less than top-notch, and took the family doctor’s adivce to get more rest “by going to bed an hour earlier every night” at its most literal interpretation. In a fortnight, we now saw a child who was going to bed at 6:00 am and was up thru the dark of the night with only the little mice who sought her out in the kitchen as her playmates. A trip back to the doctor was needed to straighten her out on what was meant by ‘an hour earlier every night.’ I thought this was just the funniest story. It must have appealed to my literal-mindedness, in a sweet yet scolding way. For I was much like the girl in the story. The foremost example to come to mind is the time when my mother told me not to put a hand on the hot electric frying pan. So I licked it. It took about three days of lapping ice water like a kitty for the swelling to go down to the point where I could argue my case that I didn’t put a hand on the frying pan, so what was the big deal?

I was hoping to get out of my Little Girl loop when the time changed last night. I had been finding myself waking earlier and earlier every day and then having increasing trouble staying awake thru the evening. I was becoming a totally involuntary Little Girl Who Went to Bed a Little Earlier Every Night. So, woke up today at 5:00. Which was really 4:00 last week. But last week I was getting up at 5:00. I know a lot of people get up at 5:00 but this has put me totally out of synch with the rest of the family, who are much more of the night owl persuasion than lark. This too shall pass. It was worse in the summer - I’d hear the birds start in around 4:00 and I’d be up for the day. I’ll just have to look on the extra quiet morning time as a blessing and an opportunity to pray/think/work without the usual cacaphony surrounding me.

Mark Shea had a link to an article of his that is still timely. Especially this time of year. Take a look at You Can Trust Me, I'm a Psychic. A very interesting exploration of the various ways the occult has crept into modern society. I guess I would fall into the group he describes thus, “The whole enterprise is shot through with such quackery and hokum that many people can't believe anyone takes it seriously.”

But some people do. For them:

For the irony is that when we seek security by placing our faith in power and self rather than in the love of the Blessed Trinity, we necessarily find ourselves, sooner or later, in a universe of fear -- fear of greater powers who believe in themselves more strongly still. This is the source of a zillion schemes for appeasing spirits, dealing with hexes and the whole complex jungle of superstition which is rife, not only in pre-Christian paganism, but in post-Christian supermarket checkstand culture, as well. Which is why, in the midst of her promises to deliver you into a future of peace and plenty, Jeanne Dixon's Web page features a promise to remove spells. It's a god eat god world.

And my advice? Never break open A Magic Eight-Ball to find out what is inside.
There is a twenty-sided object (it has a name; they mentioned it on Jeopardy once) surrounded by a cup or so of inky indelible blue liquid. The force needed to break the ball open spatters the blue liquid in all directions, making the room look like CSI examines a murdered Smurf.
This is true. There were still blue stains on the laundry room wall when we moved out.
(Ten years perspective makes me thankful that the interested parties decided the laundry room was a better venue for this experiment, rather than the dining room or kitchen. At least the laundry had a floor drain. And mother’s screams were muted coming from the basement.)

Time Change
fails to reset body clock of the Girl Who Went to Bed an Hour Earlier Every Night.
More later......

OK, Fran, now I believe you....
You weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t afford to go back to working at The Gap or anywhere else in the fashion/industrial complex.

Sometimes...
a deep, cleansing laugh has a salutory effect.
I found this thru the usually kind and pious Rosa Mystica. It has its vulgar points - but speaking strictly as a parent who has had fridge art comprising the majority of the refrigerators’ insulation over the past 20 years or so, it ‘resonated.’ I feel so much better..........

A bit of ‘froggerel’ to enliven your day!
Martha found this in the Marshall Field’s catalog.....I present it in tribute to the frog who lived in the laundry room:
May the light always find you on a dreary day.
When you need to be home, may you find a way.
May you always have courage to take a chance.
And never find frogs in your underpants.

Bear in mind, Field’s wants $32 for this.

Caught Up!
All the dentist visits have left me caught up on my light reading. It’s such a reflief to know there is no People unexamined. Yesterday’s visit reminded me of how much I miss Esquire and GQ now that my local library has let its subscriptions lapse. The library is very big on subscriptions that are funded by community members and therefore has a lot of niche publications.............age and/or disease oriented. Yes, if I had money and gumption I could give them a subscription to something good - First Things, Faith & Family, MAD. Something good. (My daughter has let me in on a little secret. The staff has a subscription to The Onion, but it is never put out in the periodical room. Staffers read it in the back room when they should be working. Patrons are stuck with lively stuff like Arthritis Today......no offense to anyone with arthritis.............I have a few bad joints and some auto-immune problems myself. I just don’t want to read about it at the library.)

I had never before realized how much Esquire resembles women’s magazines in its need to make the reader feel insecure. Do you need Viagra? Is your hair thinning? Need more $100 shirts in your wardrobe? Perplexed by the woman in your life? Are you unattractive? I always thought men were more secure. Maybe they are. But someone has figured out that there is gold in making men feel that they must be personally shored up by ‘products.’ Not just selling them tires and Craftsmen tools, but undermining their sense of self worth and then offering a salve in the form of clothes, fragrances, gadgets and other male enhancements.

I’m starting to sound like my father when he would warn me about the damage Glamour, Mademoiselle and the like were doing to my soul. You there, young man, drop that Esquire, it’ll only make you feel bad...........

Not feeling so pretty today?
Tenebrae has some words on pretty vs. beautiful.
Sound thoughts.
Perhaps I should print out 1000 copies and slip them into Glamour, Seventeen, and other magazines that corrupt the minds of young girls (and some of us not so young girls......) Maybe some homemaking magazines, too, like Martha Stewart and Traditional Home........

And.....
I am uncomfortable with some of the elaborate Halloween tableaux in yards around here. Faux coffins, nooses, lots of ghoulish stuff. I don’t call the people to protest..........
All this fuss has distracted me from my task of the day - making a perch for my raven. I think it is really a crow, but it’s close enough. Martha Stewart had them (for a small fortune)in her catalog last year at Halloween, but I found one at Michael’s before Christmas. Still sealed in its plastic wrap, it must have evaded the sales shelves only to be found later and tossed in the bargain bin. My $3 raven has been packed away for almost a year..........time to figure out how to put it above my chamber door.........

The Inevitable......... Arrives while I am not home or
Honi soit qui mal y pense

We were counting the hours until the woman down the street voiced her dismay with the scarecrow. I missed her call. Why would I need to be at work and miss the delicious squeal of her indignation? Now pater wants us to scoot those trousers up a little just to get her off of our case.

For anyone else, I would make immediate remediation. Especially if we had received a polite request. But this woman is never polite. She goes from zero to ballistic in one second. Last summer she stood in the street and screamed at us about the Winnebago parked across the street. It wasn’t ours, but she figured we were the ‘type.’

So, what did I do? I sought legal advice. Actually, I called my sister who thought it was just hysterical and didn’t think our scarecrow violated any community obscenity standards. This is just a pumpkin - exactly the way it grew - and a pair of trousers. And in her estimation, just an extension of the genre of lawn art that is made up of those plywood figures that look like stout ladies bending over in the garden. (It is just a pumpkin- no added gourds, zucchini etc.)

In most circumstances, I am the family guardian against the vulgar. And I wouldn’t do anything to foist vulgarity on my fellow citizens. But the uppity ‘artiste’ in me doesn’t like a woman from down the street telling me what kind of art I can install on my front porch. I am enjoying this too much - and am thankful that it will all be gone by Thursday. I’m dealing with a lot of problems of pride........humility is a real struggle for me and this is just the type of situation that is a pitfall for me. (There is the temptation to rationalize this as an opportunity to teach the children about not capitulating to peer pressure. It’s a stretch, but I could do it.........)
And it’s only a pumpkin.....

I found them...........sort of........
Someone had asked me how I came up with the name Oblique House. When I went back to my archives the first week was gone. I can’t get them to re-publish, but was able to track down the first couple of posts. So I’m posting them again, just for posterity’s sake (and clarification of the noodle reference that I made the other night.)


Use your noodles...........

I probably won't have the link 'thing' figured out until tomorrow.............This has a sharper learning curve than I had expected.

So I thought I'd just go ahead and share a little 'homeschooling' hint.
This is the time of year when I usually think of packing away the pool/beach stuff, such as the 'noodles.' Those foam rods that are used for floating and other water hijinks. This year I won't even bother to put them away.
Sometime in the spring, the noodles found their way out of the garage and insinuated themselves into just about every unstructured outdoor playtime that my boys had.

The Feast of St. George was the first time I noticed the boys on the front lawn - re-enacting the day's lesson. Whacking each other with the noodles.
Then came the Battle of Agincourt. Joan of Arc. The Hundred Years' War.
And just about every chapter from Famous Men of Rome.
Study breaks turned into noodle fights.

This alarmed me at first. Being a girl with no brothers. And my first four children are girls. (Not wimpy, sedentary girls. But girls without much of an interest in pounding on each other........) I was relieved when neighbors reassured me that boys do these things. And they had always been good enough not to attack each other with the plastic swords that came with the Gladiator and Crusader outfits they just had to have.

So, I have now made peace with the noodles. (Always uttering a small prayer begging protection from corneal abrasions and other assorted worries that tend to plague the 'worst case scenario' mindset.) I won't pack the noodles away this fall. In fact, we just found some new ones. School starts soon - so much history, so much
Shakespeare, so much energy to expend..........






Why Oblique House?

Just a little play on words.
Partially a tribute to Dickens - and the Bleak House quote that I keep next to the phone:
"It is right to begin with the obligations of home, and while these are overlooked and neglected, no other duties can possibly be substituted for them."
And in tribute to my own home and family where nothing is quite parallel nor perpendicular and likewise not as bleak as it may sound.
(I also like Dizzy Spot and/or Wonder Spot, as in that marvelous tourist trap at the Wisconsin Dells, where one feels as if gravity and other rules of physics have been suspended. But I would prefer not to be sued by them, so I'll stay with Oblique House and take my chances with the proprietors of the Estate of the late Mr. Dickens.)

originally posted by Ellyn vonHuben - Thursday, August 22, 2002

The Angelus
Here is an interesting article on the Angelus and the decline of public prayer in the West.

This is something we have added to our routine this year. Our timing isn’t always perfect - usually instead of noon, it’s just the last thing before we break for lunch. But we’re coming along....... It is easy at home, but public prayer is hard for those who are not used to it. The children are mortified that we say so much as a low key (English) dinner blessing when out. Sorry, kids, it isn’t easy being trendsetters.

Not Our Finest Moment
Fran answered the phone during dinner and took a message for me, “Aunt Karen called, she said to tell you that Richard Harris died. Wasn’t he that Senator from Minnesota?” There are some big gaps in people’s education. Would listening to MacArthur Park ten times help straighten her out?

[WARNING: Do Not Attempt to Recreate this work of art at home]
I forgot to mention my pathetic college days attempts at achieving the Pre-Raphaelite look by braiding my hair when wet. I was no Lizzie Siddal and my beaux did not turn into junior Rossettis, either.

Gerbil-land update.....
Emily bought a little house for the gerbil (It looks like an igloo - let’s call it the ‘gigiloo.’ ) and a water dish. This was to be the end of all my little glass prep bowls disappearing into the gerbil house. The rodent is unclear on the concept - she hides her food in the gigiloo and sleeps in the dish. Does anyone (thing?) here use objects in their intended manner?

On it goes.......
Did I promise to say nothing more about my dental problems? Hmmmm. No more until Tuesday. Just a little more work and this will no longer be a root canal, it’s going to be a lobotomy.

Topics left untouched.......
Missed out on the details of the death of Senator Wellstone because I couldn’t hear the radio in the dentist’s office. This is sad. The loss of any life is sad. But I can’t talk for too long with Rick about this because the conversation disintegrates into a debate over energy policy, Democrats/Republicans, Minnesota, fear of flying, liberal politics, too many hot buttons.

Shall we blame the artists?
We have been trying to find a gracious way to decline an invitation to spend Thanksgiving at the family ‘farm’ in the UP with Rick’s family. There are 101 reasons not to go.
1. Driving five hours with the whole family in the van would be too.......(fill in the blank)
2. Can’t afford the gas.
3. Van probably couldn’t make it.
4. Some nicotine addicts would have a hard time hiding their habits from Grandma. Hiding behind the barn is unpleasant in the cold November weather.
5. Eddie would drive everyone insane.
6. Brother-in-law is a strict anti-TV person and won’t allow his children to watch. (I don’t like TV too much, but I’ve rolled over on this issue.)
7. There is nothing to watch on TV up there if we were allowed to turn it on.
8. We would bring the total to 18 - we doubt if the house has 18 places to sit.
9. Many of us must work on Wednesday and Friday.
10. I would spend the whole time fighting the urge to say what I really think. I feel that I am being baited sometimes and after so many boring hours in the middle of nowhere, I just might take the bait.
.........the list goes on.

Rick doesn’t want to make his parents unhappy. The way I see it, they will be made unhappy either way. The unhappiness caused by our participation in this debacle would be more ‘colorful’ and memorable.

Yesterday, Rick tossed the new Lands’ End catalog in front of me. (And he wasn’t offering me a new coat) He said that the cover explained it all. The cover has a Norman Rockwell painting of family holiday reunification. It’s all Rockwell’s fault for planting this delusion in my in-laws’ minds that having everybody locked in a farmhouse for a long week-end would be the ultimate in family happiness.

My first reaction was that he was being absurd. But I thought more about how art has influenced my outlook on life. There are plenty of occasions when I have attempted to have a Norman Rockwell moment. And I must admit times of discouragement that my spiritual life has none of the, well, ecstasy of a work such as Bernini’s St. Theresa in Ecstasy. (If I’ve looked like that, it probably wasn’t religion at work) There is a hazard in wanting life to imitate art. Why didn’t any of my art history instructors warn me? [WARNING: Do Not Attempt to Recreate this work of art at home]

NEA....
The HSLDA has this interesting article on the funding of the NEA.

Biding my time..........waiting to leave for the dentist
The church (my parish, not the Vatican) gave me a lovely mum on Secretary’s Day. It was in a four inch pot. My theory of gardening is “Miracle-Gro, Miracle-Gro, Miracle-Gro.” When we moved it in today it measured about 4 ft across. Looks like it is going to bloom again. I think we caught it before the serious frost got to it.

Miracle-Gro Violet Food has done wonders for the violets that Bridget gave me this summer. I decided it was time to take care of plants instead of waiting for them to die and then throwing them away. Now it has become something of an obsession. I’ve managed to help revive a moribund violet that Emily brought home from the library. (Even I knew that keeping it on a cart in a dark backroom and not watering it was not the way to treat it........)

This must mark a new phase in my life. There was a time when I resented the gift of a plant. It would remind me of the ads that the Humane Society puts on TV before Easter to discourage the giving of live animals. Why give a living thing as a gift. Especially after having a baby, my reaction would be, “Great, I already have another person to take care of and now you want me to nurture a plant, too? Why not give me a bunny or a chick while you’re at it?”

slip of the tongue....
We were talking last night about the way the media refers to notorious people by their full names - eg. John Wayne Gacy, James Earl Ray, Lee Harvey Oswald, John Wayne Bobbitt. Now we have John Lee Malvo and John Allen Muhammad. It was just a matter of time until someone slipped and got all these names confused. A correspondent on Fox News just started to refer to Muhammad as James Earl--- , then he caught himself.

My mother had no middle name. Good thing she didn’t choose a life of crime.

I know, I know....
I know that the law is the law, but somehow I don’t feel safer knowing that a midwife went to jail for the illegal dispensing of drugs. The county sheriff knows who the drug dealers are in the apartment complex 100 yards from my house. Those people aren’t going to jail. Do I sound bitter? Mordant? Maybe.......

Is it Picasso’s birthday?
I never liked Picasso, but Google does have a nice Picasso logo thing today. So I wonder if it’s his special day.

Weird...

Just when I thought I’d heard the last of annoying Illinois Lt. Governor Corinne Wood, I found this funny article in the Sun-Times on Monday night:
Lt. Gov. Corinne Wood gave so much money to Planned Parenthood’ s political action committee during her failed GOP primary run for governor that under state law, the PAC had to change its name to the “Planned Parenthood Votes Illinois Corinne Wood” PAC.

The statute calls for a name to reflect anyone giving at least 33 percent of the total funding for the politcal committee.

In September, the PAC gave Democrats Blagojevich $25,000 and Madigan $10,000.

There’s something satisfying in seeing her money go to the Democrats because she had such a stake in ingratiating herself with Planned Parenthood.

I don’t like Corinne Wood. Not just because she mispronounces her own name (it’s a free country, you can pronounce your name anyway you wish - and look like a fool), but her relentless hammering on the abortion issue was..........absurd. And there is something sinister about a woman who portrays herself as a loving, typical soccer mom giving so much money to an ‘anti-child’ organization.

Oh, yeah, doesn’t the Bible have something about “where your treasure is, there your heart will be?”

Who Needs Miss Cleo when there is Dr. Dictionary........

halcyon \HAL-see-uhn\, noun:
1. A kingfisher.
2. A mythical bird, identified with the kingfisher, that was
fabled to nest at sea about the time of the winter solstice
and to calm the waves during incubation.

adjective:
1. Calm; quiet; peaceful; undisturbed; happy; as, "deep,
halcyon repose."
2. Marked by peace and prosperity; as, "halcyon years."


So true. And no, there is no mythical bird in my backyard. To the best of my knowledge......

Don’t tell me the Rabbi drives a Jaguar...........

There is some controversy about Chevrolet backing a tour of evangelical Christian musicians. I don’t find it quite as alarming as some do.

"This may be a sign of the times, but it's not a good sign," said Rabbi James Rudin, spokesman for the American Jewish Committee in New York. "America is increasingly multiethnic and multireligious. So, for an American icon like Chevrolet to link itself to one religion, Christianity, and then one specific group within Christianity is divisive.

"The majority of Americans are not evangelical Christians and it would be very, very bad business for Chevrolet to put the idea into people's minds that they're the evangelical brand."

Corporations will do what is expedient for their business. And people can still make judgements apart from the ‘vibe’ given off by the advertising. I’m thinking specifically about Tantrist Sting and his Jaguar promotion. That wouldn’t stop me from driving a Jaguar (if one magically appeared in my driveway.) Altho........I am rather repelled by the car ads (and I can’t even remember what car it is!) that have James Brown squealing about being a Sex Machine. That’s the limit

I hope....
they have really caught the sniper.

At least it didn’t happen on my watch.....
It warms a mother’s heart to return from work and find that her children have been involved in a cooperative art project. (There were clues.........the desperate phone call to church to get this secretary to give up the secret of the hidden duct tape; Bridget’s procurement of a pumpkin with the perfect ‘gluteal cleft.’) I was delighted to turn in to my driveway and see a life size scarecrow propped in the corner of the front porch mooning the residents of our lovely street. The intricate amount of counter-balancing involved is indicative of paternal involvement. I guess if Dad ok’d it, it’ll stay. There is a certain amount of uncharitable satisfaction in knowing that it will outrage the nasty woman ( and homeowners’ association head!) down the street who thinks we are overpopulated, vulgar and driving down her property values.

In the same vein, I’ve been tempted to put up a yard sign for my sister’s campaign for District Attorney (in another county, in another state). Campaign signs are strictly forbidden by association rules. (reason enough in my book to want to put up a ton o’ signs.) My rationale: since this is not related to any local election, it is really an art installation. And the boys whacking each other with noodles are performance artists and the slackers on the cul de sac are a tableau vivant. I have a degree in art - don’t argue with me.......

Meditations for Women Who Think Too Much....
I do need to start getting more sleep.
This reminds me of something that happened at my Bible Study group last week. Somehow we got on the subject of death and the final disposition of our soul. Having recently had a funeral in our parish for a young person who died suddenly, I was moved to speak on how this always catches me off-guard. And it is worrisome because the age at which people begin to put away childish things and approach life with some gravitas is creeping ever higher. (example: the cast of Friends) From there I expounded upon how palpable the finality of death is to me when I enter the name of the deceased in the death register. Some times on a quiet evening I wonder I surmise that one of the lines in the book is for me - barring relocation or doing something dreadful enough to get excommunicated. And I’ll even flip thru the book and wonder which line it is. We’re only on page 13. (Or if it will be a different book, think about how that book has already been printed and is just waiting for me.) At this point, a friend, possessed of much wisdom and wit chimed in, “Ellyn, get some sleep.”
I may have told this story before. Forgive me. I’m sleep deprived.

No More about My Teeth.......That’s a Promise
It was just the crown that came out. I am OK. Sorry for putting everyone thru my tortured descriptions of dental agony. I was starting to feel like that guy in Delirious, the one whose teeth started dropping out spontaneously.

Academic Progress Report
Martha has received her first progress report from one of the finest public high schools in our country. I hope we can attribute the teacher’s comments to exhaustion from over-work:
”Maraha need to keep turning the home work”.(sic)
Huh?

At least Martha has a new nickname. When she’s tired of Mookie or Marfa, Maraha should do just fine.....

Hope....
Went to Mass, about 45 minutes early because I was uptown taking Martha to school early.
Didn’t have my usual prayer book with me, but doubted that it had anything specifically for dental problems. So I was left unguided to pray for many causes, especially, I’ll admit my teeth. A simple fiat voluntas tua is often best.

After Mass, I stopped by the dentist’s office and was able to catch him between appointments to explain my despair. He told me to come back at 4:00, he thinks it can be re-attached. Either way, I can handle it now.


This is “discouraging”!
The Out & In Column in the latest Vanity Fair (p. 304) lists the new “in” grammar pet peeve as:
Quotation marks as ironic “literary” device. So “where” does that “leave” “me?”
Shall I just disable that key to discipline myself?

Tuesday...........
I’m up early, taking care of loose ends and glad to put an end to another dreadful night’s sleep.
I’m about to lapse into the mordant again, but my mood is adjusted back to an understanding of real tragedy by turning on Fox News and seeing that there has been another shooting back East.

Years ago, when I first started having children, many books referered to maternal dental problems and the old wives’ tale, a tooth for every child. Well, I think I’ve reached that point. Last night while flossing, the molar that I had a root canal and post done in about 6 months ago just popped right out of my mouth. No pain - nada. I don’t think it was worth putting in a glass of milk and rushing to the ER. But I was in as much shock as if a limb had fallen off unannounced. Turning to my husband for solace, I received, “What tooth, I can’t really see what you’re talking about.”
And just to make sure I ended my day with self-esteem intact, “I still think you’re hot.”

I have six children and can’t afford to lose five more teeth. I hope our three little souls in heaven would please intercede for mother’s continued dental and thereby, mental, health. Just two hours ‘til the dentist’s office opens up. And I’ll just try to remember that if you can see my tooth is missing, you are too close.

If it weren’t true, it might be funny.....
Victor Lams has some interesting info on the mess in Michigan with Jennifer Granholm and her four funky defenders. Makes me wish I could move to Michigan so I could vote for anyone but her.

But I must hold down the fort in Illinois. Planned Parenthood has brought back a series of TV spots featuring a rape survivor (who does have my sympathy) who whimpers about how lucky she was that she didn’t get pregnant because if we had a Governor like (candidate) Jim Ryan, she could not have had an abortion. So she is a pity object, talking about what didn’t happen, and how it would have been affected by a man who was not in office at the time this didn’t happen.
Strange - offensive.

Go ahead and look at Gretchen’s Story. And tell me if, “Jim Ryan would do away with Gretchen's right to choose ? and the rights of thousands of women across Illinois to make their own decisions about their lives and families,” does that mean thousands of women in Illinois are being impregnated by rapists? Then we also have a massive law enforcement problem.

Reality Check?
My sister and her friends arrived home safely yesterday. They managed to have a good time in New Orleans without me. They muddled thru. Karen’s girlfriends had never been to New Orleans before, so she had a great time showing them around. I was able to get a little vicarious enjoyment out of her description of their adventures. Everything was fun as usual, with a little disappointment that the talented “Big Al” Carson was on a sabbatical of some sort from the Funky Pirate. Oh, well, you can’t have it all.

Then reality sets in - waiting in the driveway at home is six inches of snow. That’s a little too real for me.

Dr. Dictionary sees into my heart......
Just another example of how my e-mail word of the day seems to come from an omniscient source:

Word of the Day for Monday October 21, 2002

mordant \MOR-d'nt\, adjective:
Biting; caustic; sarcastic.

Guess that’s a clue for me to tone it down.
Ask me about the time I offended several family members by posting the word "wastrel" on the word chart.
Hey, I don’t pick ‘em, I just pass them along.......

Monday........and wolves at the door
A very slow school Monday. Martha has a cold and stayed home from school. So I didn’t get to Mass and tried to play “catch-up” before it was time to run to the dentist. At least I made up for the time I missed with the Rosary group this morning - there was plenty of time in Dr. B’s chair. I didn’t get home until 12:30 and tried to jump in despite no feeling in most of my head.
Drooling while leading Angelus with boys caused them to say I should just take a nap until everything wore off.

I knew the mail would bring some sort of waker-upper. I lovely full color brochure from Illinois Planned Parenthood (where do these clowns keep getting my name?) showing a candidate for Illinois Attorney General dressed as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. (Not a pretty picture - Isn’t there some sort of a law against taking a less than flattering photo of a person and photo-shopping it into a sheep? Scary, kids......) They damned him with his perfect rating and endorsement by Illinois Right to Life. Begged me not to throw my ‘right to choose’ to the wolves. That’s good enough for me. Thank you Illinois PP for clarifying matters for me.

Can I use my ill humor and numb head as an excuse to rant against all the cars I see in my church parking lot bearing a bumper sticker for a blatantly pro-choice candidate? What’s wrong with these people? This is not a candidate who is low-key, try-not-to-discuss-it pro-choice. This woman flaunts her defense of a woman’s right to choose and her approval from Planned Parenthood. Doesn’t anyone read her literature? Don’t they care? Does the fact that she helped put in a neat kind of stop light with a timed walk signal in downtown Lake Forest make up for the fact that she doesn’t care a bit for her fellow (unborn) Americans?
Thank you very much.

Thanks to Davey's mommy.......
for this fun test...........

Book Worm Meter for Ellyn

Shut In 71% . . 29% Out Of The House Intellectual 95% . . 5% Moron High Attention Span 95% . . 5% Low Attention Span Bookitude 96% . . 4% Book Burner Book Worm 89.25% . . 10.75% Bug Stomper

Take your bookworm readings.

That Time of Year
It’s the time of year when all the mail order catalogues come pouring in.
May I offer some suggestions from the latest batch?

Signals has two containers of meticulously hand tooled replica Victorian tin tinsel in gold or silver. Each container has 50 pieces each. Do not laugh. My sister gave this to me two years ago - most likely as a punishment for the way I tormented my mother by throwing tinsel at the tree by the handful. This forces you to hang the tinsel one excruciating piece at a time. When the job is finally done, the effect is delicious. And the truly anal retentive do so enjoy counting up the tinsel when the tree is taken down. We were short two this year. One turned up in the gutter in front of our house. The other was lurking along the base board and was found when the Christmas stuff was almost all packed away.

Karen gave me this tinsel when I was visiting her up near St. Paul. I was a tad worried about getting on a plane with two metal tubes in my carry-on luggage. The last time I had flown out of Midway, my Altoids tin caused me to be pulled aside and manually searched. But I walked right on thru - no problem. Today I don’t think they would even allow the tinsel on a plane. Too pointy.

Another good Signals item is Sanctus: 1000 Years of Sacred Music. This was also a gift from my sister. Unspoken subtext: You want religious music? 15 CD’s should keep you happy for a while.....

integrations a catalog for kids with learning and sensory differences has some cool stuff. The boys would like an edible bubble kit. Like your regular bubble blowing equipment but with non-toxic fruit flavored bubble liquid. At. $35.95, I’ll think we’ll pass.

Did you know that there are individuals that use chewing to calm or refocus? (Does this include tobacco chewing ball players?) integrations has Chewy Tubes as a safe and effective tool for redirecting chewing. Wish I had known about those years ago, before Bridget and Fran ate the erasers off of 1000 pencils or more.

Then what I would really like is a set of Velvasoft Weighted Lap Pads. They can be adjusted to the correct weight (heavier than the apron a dentist puts on you before an X-ray) and put on a child’s lap to remind him not to hop out of his chair. They also have a heavy dog and turtle for the same purpose.

Monastery Greetings has some lovely food and graphics items. The boys liked this catalog and were actually up for joining the Trappists until I explained that the Trappists make the cheese and fudge, but don’t sit around all day eating it.

Maybe this is what I need......
The New York Times has an article of Provigil, the non-amphetamine drug that can allow one to function without sleep indefinitely.............Provigil, which is short for "promotes vigilance," was approved late in 1998 for treatment of sleepiness associated with narcolepsy, a condition in which people fall asleep uncontrollably. But use of the drug is expanding rapidly, with more than 80 percent of the prescriptions written to treat the fatigue and sleepiness associated with many other diseases, like depression and multiple sclerosis, or even just sleepiness caused by no disease at all.

If the trial is successful, the company will ask the Food and Drug Administration to expand the approved uses of Provigil from just narcolepsy to excessive sleepiness associated with any medical condition. That would allow the company's sales force to begin calling on general practitioners rather than just sleep specialists, neurologists and psychiatrists, potentially expanding sales to the billion-dollar range...............

"There are no warts on this drug," Dr. Baldino, 49, who has a doctorate in pharmacology, said with characteristic bluntness at his office in this suburb of Philadelphia. "The only question is how big we can make it."

This is a bit worrisome. There will be warts on this drug. It just remains to be seen.
If I didn’t think there would be ‘warts,’ I’d be tempted to call my doctor first thing in the morning. If my sleep is so crummy, why don’t I just give it up altogether? Then I could be really efficient...........until I would be carried away by the men in the white coats.

Babe Meets Gone With the Wind.......
Now Church will be delayed until 6:00pm because we couldn’t pull everything together in time to get to Mass at 10:30 to be back at noon when the Bears are playing. Personally, I like it when the Bears play at noon on Sunday. The parking situation is much easier.

Em brought her hair clippers home for the week-end. So it was time to shear the boys. I have my own clippers (bought out of a combination of boys with sensory integration problems and the need to save money) but Em’s have a better assortment of length settings.

Chuck did not want a hair cut, but could be convinced that he had reached the point of either cut or dreds. Eddie just didn’t wanted to be touched. And lacking the vibrant curls of his brother, he just looks messy and uncared for. So we had to round the guys up and clip their hair in a scene that was a cross between the sheep shearing scene in Babe and the unanaesthetized limb amputation scene in Gone With the Wind. If only it were ethical to give a good shot of whisky to the patient - I mean customer. Not that it would help, some of my children have not been knocked out by (hospital administered, mind you) drug combos that would take down Rasputin.
We’ll start trimming them for Christmas on Thanksgiving week-end.

Just $30,000
And I forgot to mention that the Iron Chefs were working with $30,000 worth of shark fins.
When I'm in the calculating mood, I shall try to see how long we could eat on $30,000.
Em's boyfriend, who is Chinese and has actually eaten shark fin stuff was salivating, but I didn't think it looked worth that much.

After a vain attempt at ‘sleeping in’ I’m back at the ‘puter. There is little for the early riser to do except prayer and reading since most family members don’t appreciate the clatter of housework at 5:00am. If I were able to sleep I know I wouldn’t. The downside to this early waking is that I need a nap by about 1:00pm. Which makes the family think I’m slipping into my decline. Skipping the nap does not improve the quality of my sleep, just makes the second half of the day less productive.

Soon it will be late enough that I can start puttering around. Work some more on the antennae for the ancient stereo receiver in the living room. The car is the usual radio source around here - but it would be nice to crank up Breakfast with the Beatles while eating the pancakes that I am no longer allowed to cook. Sunday breakfast is officially Dad’s. First it was the whole wheat pancake thing. Then the kids complained that the homemade pancakes had a funny metallic taste. Perhaps I was using too much baking powder to make them fluffy. So I turned to Hungry Jack or whatever it is that comes in a box. Those are “too thick” for pater. This is the first day of my ‘lifetime ban’ from pancake cooking. I’m good with that. I’m still allowed to do pain perdu. And play on the computer.

If I didn’t want to make sure Dad didn’t have some sort of nervous collapse getting Rod and Todd to Mass by himself (hmmm, now that Martha is back he does have an extra buffer to put between them) and because I do so want to look like the model family, I would be up and out of here to Mass already. The 7:30 Mass is lovely. Sometimes it seems that the congregation is half comatose but there are few squawking children (not that I’m anti-child, it’s just that I’m more distractable than I used to be) and little wiggling and crobbling from the older folks.

Then I could devote the rest of the day to doing the laundry that hasn’t been done since the dryer tanked on Friday afternoon. This isn’t servile labor really is it? I mean, people will will need towels, socks, tidy whities, etc. to face the world tomorrow.


Let’s Codify Conditional Love!
This was not the inspirational uplift I was looking for this morning.
Well, except for the end quote from the mother of 12, almost 13.

Another Saturday Night....
so much to do.............so little ambition
instead -
play with computer
read news - leave tomorrow’s Trib alone
go back to computer and play Shanghai
turn on Iron Chef - watch chefs cook with shark fins costing more than I spend on groceries
in a year (years..........)
listen for cries for help from laundry room while Rick fixes drier
resolve to become more like a shark fin - firm, yet flexible

No News - Means They’re Having Fun Without Me
Haven’t heard from my sister. That means she is having fun.
I tried to avert my eyes when the weatherman pointed towards the Crescent City, but I think I heard the words “eighty” and “sunny.” I’ll take his word for it.

They may take one of those spooky walking tours of the French Quarter tonight. This would be a good time of year for it. Wish I were with them.........One of the tours stops at the Lafitte Guest House on Bourbon St. to see a mirror in which a ghost supposedly turns up from time to time. We stayed there once. Didn’t see any ghost. But we did stay in a room on the fifth floor, which was once inhabited by Tennessee Williams in his less successful days when the guest house was just a flop house. I was so excited to tell the family about this upon my return home, that I blurted out that I had stayed in the same room as Tennessee Tuxedo. They would be about as impressed either way. Tennessee Tuxedo was as obscure to them as Tennessee Williams. Well, Rick remembers Tennessee Tuxedo. And probably enjoys his ‘work’ more than that of Mr. Williams. So much for my brush with greatness.

One good reason........
from Victor Lams that I’m glad a very large lake is between Michigan and me. Altho, if I kept walking straight north I could still run into Michigan.

The election here in Illinois is not nearly as entertaining. The pro-choice people are pretty blatant and religion doesn’t come up much. I appreciate the lovely brochure that Personal PAC sent to me, with lovely picutres of who not to vote for. Spelling out the candidates who are 100% pro-choice is very helpful.

I’m so amused by a local candidate for State Senate who is obnoxious in her pro-choice stance, including big endorsements by Emily’s List, Planned Parenthood and Personal Pac. And she sends campaign literature to the priests at my parish. I know how things can get overlooked when large amounts of bulk mail are handled, but isn’t there some functionary who might see that the most egregious of this literature not get sent to a Catholic rectory? It’s a hoot when I sort the mail.

This makes up for being Flanders:


Congratulations, you're New Orleans, the wild city.
What US city are you? Take the quiz by Girlwithagun.

Is it just me or has Bravo turned into the Godfather network? All Godfather/all the time.

It’s probably just a phase - there was a time when I could turn on the tube and be guaranteed of finding Zulu somewhere. Whatever it takes to keep an overwrought housewife happy - young Michael Caine, young Al Pacino........

Lingua alert
Jeff Miller has gone to the trouble of translating the Our Father into Pig Latin. (or to go from Latin to Pig Latin - the Aterpay OsterNay). It’s not as easy as it looks......
We used to use a lot of pig latin to talk ‘around’ the children when they were little. Then they became quite fluent in it. And will speak to us in a urriedhay isperwhay when they are trying to communicate a secret.

If I have time I must start on a list of 1000 ways to humiliate and drive your children to distraction. Here’s a good one: I wrote a comment to Emily’s Latin teacher in Pig Latin. All in good fun. Not possessing the Latin necessary to communicate our pleasure with her progress, I simply wrote in the comment line of her report card: eway aray osay easedplay ithway erhay ogresspay. Emily’s take : otnay unnyfay

You’d never see this in my neighborhood........
Gerard has posted a beautiful picture of a procession thru central Lima, Peru. I wish things like this happened in our neighborhood.

Too bad I didn’t know about this a few weeks ago. It would have made for interesting conversation when I was privileged to meet the auxiliary bishop of Lima. Naturally I was tongue-tied and terrified of saying something stupid. (At work, too, my IQ goes into remission when a bishop or the Cardinal calls) My sister had also planted a bad idea in my head (we do like to do that to each other) and told me to make sure to ask if he had ever met Paddington Bear. So fighting that thought was my obsession for the evening. The bishop was charming and kind and obviously well practiced at dealing with the temporarily dumbstruck.

I must never look at the TV.......
Just when I thought it was safe.........up pops that Grandma who birthed her own grandchildren.
And everybody is laughing and chatting like this was the greatest idea sinced sliced bread.
I must stoop to quoting a popular catchphrase amongst the young crowd that passes thru my home.........KEEP IT IN THE CIRCUS!!!!!! (The appropriate rejoinder is for the group to yell, “FREAK”) I’m too polite to say that out loud, but I can think it here, can’t I?

Oooooh, Nooooo. Now’s there’s a bride in Green Bay being escorted down the aisle by her pug. Suitably attired. He does look cute, especially with the top hat, but this is a sacramental occassion for heaven’s sake. Please, Lord, tell me it’s not a Catholic Church. (And someone tell the pug, that a ‘gentledog’ removes his hat indoors, especially in Church)

Oh........
The Archbishop of Canterbury is coming to Lake Forest for 3 days...........
Must pump the Princess for floral details..........
Martha said a friend had to bail on plans for tomorrow night because she has to sing at an Evensong service at which the Archbishop will be present..........’free’ tickets sold out.
Everyone psyched because it’s “like, you know, if the Pope came to town.”
Yeah.......except he ain’t the Pope.

A favorite personality
I was pleased when the New Yorker published Fierce Pajamas this year. This book is a great collection of seventy-five (I think?) years of New Yorker humor. Classic old stuff and great new material. I was relieved to find a favorite essay included, since I had lost the page I tore out of the magazine when I received it about 5 years ago. In this piece, the author talks about the decline in number of ‘personalities’ in the world of tennis (such as John McEnroe and Ilie Nastase) and then goes on to deconstruct the meaning of ‘personality.’ He boils it down to being a synonym for a word that starts with a and end with e (not Aristotle) with an ‘sshol’ in between. This essays can still make me laugh until I cry. And it started our familial use of the word ‘personality’ for when we meant the more vulgar personal assessment.

Which brings me to my point. Michael Medved has written a good review of Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine. Roger and Me was a good movie. Some family members found Mr. Moore to be ‘grating’ but I thought he had a certain honest, homespun charm. His short-lived TV series was OK. I thought he was kind of cute in a scruffy sort of way. He was on the Today Show last week. His interview confirmed what dawned on me when I read Stupid White Men one night at work (the fact that I could finish my work and read this whole book gives an approximation of its substance). Michael Moore is just a ‘personality.’ He’s either become one or it was just latent before. He doesn’t even look cute. My husband asked for a critique of his ‘look’ one morning and the easiest way to convey to him that he looked slovenly and not as bright as he is, was to say, “You’re starting to look like Michael Moore.” I try not to be critical of people’s looks, as this is superficial and something not always within a person’s control. But Mr. Moore is a personality and he’s doing a good job at looking the part. Oy, and then he opens his mouth and erases any doubt..........

One last Love Act to mention.......
I neglected all the people who come to my aid. Because of a torsion problem with my left hip, it is difficult unto impossible for me to put a sock on my left foot or tie my left shoe. And I forgot to mention all the family members who will ‘do my sock’ when I’m in a hurry. And my dear sister who has socked and shod me thru Paris and New Oreleans. Many thanks.

Right in my (150 mile radius) backyard
This icky retreat incident was written up in the Sun-Times but I didn’t find out about it until I looked atMark Shea’s blog.:
A fight between parents and a south suburban Catholic church over behavior on a religious retreat has resulted in their two children being expelled from parochial school.

The parents, Daniel and Anna Lisa Gianni, say their children are being punished because they complained that one of the children was forced to wear pantyhose over his clothes at the retreat.

This is creepy - making kids wear pantyhose as a retreat ‘icebreaker’ is just - creepy. For children who are more or less immune to doing the indignified it is creepy. For a shy person such as myself, I might have had to delay confirmation a good 20 years to adjust to the shock. A reserved person (such as my late father, who didn’t even like playing charades at family gatherings) might have found a new religion. And someone with social anxiety that Paxil can’t touch (like one of my sons).......well, who knows?

With Outfits like these.......
The November issue of Vanity Fair arrived yesterday. It is still sealed in its plastic wrapper.
The wrapper is what I use as an incentive to finish my real work.......it keeps me from peeking and then drifting off reading and accomplishing nothing. This is the big Music Issue. From the looks of the cover, it is the skanky babes issue. The headline says, “With outfits like these, it must be THE MUSIC ISSUE.” Gwen Stefani, J-Lo, Sheryl Crow, Alicia Keyes - talented ladies - dressed up like...........? I’ll open it tonight anyway. Lured in by the promise of a Springsteen article. Oh, and Barry White. This should be interesting. In the world of ‘romantic’ popular music, I find Barry White to be too overproduced, too, perhaps, ‘rococo.’ I’m an Al Green girl myself. Tight precise production. No wasted noise or effort. It would be pleasing to read thru and see if the Rev. Al finally gets the credit he is due.

Now NARAL has TV Ads?
Check out this link at Catholic Exchange.
Sad. And the kids who appear in those ads........are there parents so heartless that they use their children to promote murder or do they just want to promote their little careers regardless of the ‘product?’

And then there’s Oprah....
There are probably 99 good reasons not to listen to Ms Winfrey. But she catches my attention...and sneaks into my brain just the same. I read a quote from Oprah the other day.
She tells us, “Do what you love..........and the money will follow.”

Show me the money Oprah. I love what I do. I love my family. I love teaching my children. I love my job at Church. So where’s the money? (I’m not implying that the church is late with the paycheck. But I haven’t been working as many hours as I would like)

Oprah aphorism may be true, in some areas of endeavor. But not all. I am wise enough not to buy into her philosophy hook, line and sinker. I am, nonetheless, rankled by hearing a woman who isn’t worried about keeping the heat below a certain level for the sole reason of staying out of ‘hot water’ with People’s Energy, tell me how the purity of my motivations will lead to material success. I am doing what I love, but if the money is following it is far behind. Maybe I should start an eponymous magazine. Yeah, that’s the ticket..........

Curiosity Salted the Snail
Or so says Sponge Bob. Looking thru the bookmarks I came across Gold Of Pleasure. This is the common name of an agricultural crop, (Camelina sativa L.) high in natural anti-oxidants, which my husband was doing some research on.

To my bad mind, I thought it was something either deeply spiritual or dreadfully obscene.
That didn’t stop me from clicking on it to see what it was. Oh, well.

a good day....
I did my Bible homework.
Bible study was good.
I probably talked too much, but when I’m on a roll...........
(If I see the leaders with duct tape next week, it’s not going to be for wart removal!)
Now it’s time to start my day job.........

I’ll dispute that.....
The claim on Disputations of being late to find this fascinating blog: Tenebrae. I’m usually the last to find out anything. (Were you aware that dark blue denim jeans are fashionable again?) If it weren’t for Dylan leaving a comment about singing Oblique House to the tune of...........well, it’s too awful to start again. Once that song gets in my brain I just can’t get it out. And heaven forbid my husband finds out, he can sing Brick House (oh, there I let it slip) with such dreadful abandon.

And he’s been so kind in his comments about me. I’m glad the tune thing led me look up his wonderful musings. Otherwise, I’d still be sitting here..........not aware.......... just wondering what to do with all those Beta videos........and faded jeans.......

For those of you who doubt...
the existence of World Famous Love Acts!!! (Fourth picture down) Karen and I aren’t the only ones to have a take on the juxtaposition of sin and salvation - love and ‘love.’
Is there such a thing as the Society for Neuroscience or is that just the name given to a group of guys who go out every year and do the Mardi Gras thing? Either way, I might be interested in joining.

I appreciate the zeal of the street evangelists. It’s not an easy place to work (altho in February I’d rather stand outside and preach in New Orleans than in Chicago). Maybe we need more preachers like that everywhere. My soul is probably in more peril every time I walk into my local Target - the temptations there are more insidious and subtle. If there were just someone in the Target parking lot to remind me not to worry too much of the tangible and transitory things of this world. (Of which Target sells many delightful examples.........)

News Flash..........New Jersey
Anyone remember an old Harry Chapin song about a truck crashing with 10,000 pounds of bananas? Fox News just showed something similar in New Jersey. A truck has crashed and disgorged itself of an amazing amount of frozen chickens. No injuries. That is quite amazing. If those chickens had fallen out while the truck wasn’t moving there still could have been a number of serious foot fractures to anyone standing too close. A six pound roaster escaped from my freezer the other day, missing my foot by less than an inch. Could have been serious...........

If I can’t be a good example.......
I’ll have to be a bad warning. This is the year I took the final leap into Church Ladyland and signed up for a Bible study. It was the third year they invited me and this might have been my third strike, so what the heck. I could use this - couldn’t most of us? I felt a lot more sincere talking to the boys about St. Jerome and his admonition about the ignorance of scripture knowing that I am trying to overcome this ignorance. And as a homeschooler who has the luxury of Dad home in the morning to be with the boys, I can consider it part of my ‘continuing education.’ Now I must get off of the computer and do my homework. Which I have had 2 weeks to do, and now I’m down to a mere 12 hours............tsk, tsk


World Famous Love Acts!!!
My sister left on her road trip to New Orleans this afternoon. It hasn’t been easy to keep my envy in check, especially since she had me look up a bunch of addresses and info because all of her travel books are in storage while her new house is being built. Paging thru those books reminded me of places I had forgotten that I wanted to return to.

When Karen called to ask me for any souvenir requests, I asked for the usual. Maybe another French Market coffee mug or some more Mardi Gras decorations. (The Mardi Gras decorations are on my top ten list of ways to embarrass your children - you’ve never seen such a group of teenagers happy to greet Ash Wednesday.) In the course of our conversation, we talked about World Famous Love Acts!!! There is an establishment on Bourbon Street - we’re not even sure this is the name - that we always notice because of its big neon sign advertising World Famous Love Acts!!! We shudder and walk on by, not wanting to think about what they are showing in this place. The conversation later in the evening, usually over a few cocktails and many shrimp, turns to how fabulous it would be if people gleefully paid their admission and found, upon entering, tableaux of real World Famous Love Acts!!! It is fun to come up with our nominees for the show - some of my favorites: bone marrow donors, Missionaries of Charity picking maggots off of lepers, St. Maximillian Kolbe, a friend of mine, with plenty of troubles of her own, who still takes the time and effort to drive a load of surplus frozen foods up to a food pantry in a neighboring community. People want to see love, we sure could show it to them.

So, I told Karen if she sees a shirt that says, “Ask me about World Famous Love Acts!!!,” I would love to have one.

Another thought on the anniversary of JPII’s Papacy......
counting our blessings....
If you’re reading this Emily, you probably won’t really know how cool it is until you are my age.......
I remember when Pope Paul VI died the summer of ‘78. I remember exactly where I was when John Paul I died - I was a newlywed working as a temp. office worker. In a steel mill. (It was a living........) I remember when John Paul II was elected. He was so impressive. And I wasn’t even a Catholic.

My children have grown up with one amazing Pope as head of their Church. (Sorry I didn’t have the presence of mind so that they would all be ‘cradle Catholics’)

This is just one of those moments when you look back at 24 years and think, where did the time go? It’s enough to make one’s head spin. I was your age, Em, when John Paul II was elected.

B-W-A-T-E

It is wonderful that the Pope has dedicated a special year to the Rosary. Encouraging for those of us who are already practicing this devotion and a nudge to those who think it is passe. (Like maybe a DRE who I was teaching for who didn’t think the rosary was ‘appropriate’ for young children. Right. If a certain 8 year-old in my family can handle at least one decade, any child can......) It’s even being mentioned on the TV. The Tribune had an article yesterday, complete with a chart on how the Rosary is prayed. (it was missing the Fatima prayer, but still, this was the Tribune showing how to pray the Rosary - talk about weird) When was the last time we saw rosaries in the media, other than as totemic devices to indicate ‘old school religious nut?’

Now I need to find a mnemonic device to help me learn the luminous mysteries. For ages, I had to keep the letters ASCCC in mind when praying the sorrowful mysteries. (agony, scourging,crowning,carrying, crucifixion.) BWATE should work - baptism,wedding,announcement,Transfiguration,Eucharist. Kingdom would be better for announcement of the Kingdom, but I need a vowel in there.

If I were a Rich Woman........
Karl Schudt of Summa Contra Mundum is job hunting.
If I were fabulously well-to-do I could hire him to be my house philosopher. That would extremely helpful. Luxurious........And I could turn that whole sticky mess with teaching Traditional Logic I over to him.

I will, indeed, pray for his job prospects and will call him immediately should my fortunes change.

He’s hyper, but I like him........
A business pundit on CNN said that Steven the Dell kid may be on his way out.
Talk about corporate ingratitude - after all he’s done for them.

Pater says Apple should swoop in and sign him when his contract lapses. He could say something along the lines of , “Dude, you coulda had an iMac”

Dell may very well have some sort of copyright on the word “Dude.” And it is a little too close to Wow, I coulda had a V-8.

If Steven is going, could he take the “Dude” with him? (ie - would it be possible to never have to hear anyone say dude again?) PLEASE.......

This is just too.........
There is a story about a woman who gave birth to her grandchildren. Not that this is the first time it has happened. Will it become a whole new genre in the area of grandparenting? Grandmas shouldn’t feel put upon when asked to babysit - after all, there are grandmothers who are willing to carry out the whole gestation process. Doesn’t this sort of up the ante on maternal devotion? Or is it just like some bad song from the Dr. Demento show?

The Irish Princess showed up at breakfast on Sunday and requested a crepe when the rest of us were having pancakes. I knew I was being a little too indulgent, but I just added a little extra milk to some batter, threw it in a crepe pan and voila! Well, now I know where the ultimate line would have to be drawn. I’ll drive you around, I’ll lend you money, I’ll take in your indigent friends, I’ll even make you a crepe, but don’t ask me to carry your children. That’s just wrong.

Now that my head is so big I could pass for a balloon in Macy’s Parade......
I just am getting around to catching up with computer stuff - had a busy day getting caught up after time lost to the dentist. And will have to plan on the next couple of Mondays being less than stellar.....until this tooth thing passes. (Luckily, I could speak adequately by the time I got to work. And I’m fortunate that I’m not answering phones for “St. Francis,” since it is S’s and F’s that give me the most trouble when my mouth is numb)

Now I see myself mentioned on Tom Abbott and Steven Riddle’s blogs. I’m extremely flattered. Thank you. This could go to a girl’s head.

eventually
There is some sort of Blogger server problem. Another load of laundry, some dishes and, I’ll admit it, watching Judging Amy, then I’ll try again. It doesn’t take much to get me confused.
Go ahead, Emily, smirk. At least I’m trying.

an hour later.........
Still keep getting a server error with Blogger. Of course, I’m taking this personally.
And Netscape keeps crashing.

This explains...........
why the vacuum cleaner doesn’t have warts!
An involved scientific study found duct tape to be effective (if not time consuming) in the treatment of warts. It is thought that irritation caused by the tape stimulates an immune response which ‘kills’ the wart. Or destroys the virus causing the wart. Or something along that line.

This is reassuring. We always have plenty of duct tape.
(And I can’t resist the temptation to say that one could always apply an essay by Garry Wills to the wart - with duct tape, of course - to crank the irritation up a notch.)

More Computer News........
With Netscape 7, even those guest maps work.
This is fun...........

Computer News........
Now we’re back with Netscape. But it’s just a little different. So I’m still confused.
But..........the good news is that Netscape allows me to avoid the Javascript errors that locked up the machine when I would try to read the comments on other blogs. So I’m back to being obnoxious again.........

Somebody here needs paper dolls.......
No, not the boys.
Martha did get a set of Pride and Prejudice paper dolls last Christmas.
These are even better. They’re nuns.
I wonder if the habits would fit my Ellyn paper doll? (She’s packed away on account of her weak neck. I was hardly allowed to play with her as a child. She was so fascinating, my face on a paper doll.) That would be fun.......

Memento Mori
I was laughing at the people on Oprah this morning who are afraid of aging and facing the world without cosmetics. (I only saw a little bit of the show, but I thought it was rather pathetic.) Of course, an hour in the dentist’s chair gave me time for reflection on my lack of charity. And it dawned on me that most people have something that reminds them, uncomfortably, of time and the inevitability of physical death.

This is the time of year that we receive the politely phrased letter from Rush-Presbyterian-St. Luke’s Medical Center asking if Mr. v. is still alive and, if so, how’s he doin’? If a scar that goes half-way around his abdomen/back isn’t reminder enough of his rare benign -yet- malignant- tumor -which -was -removed -but -only -with -a- brush- with -death isn’t reminder enough, he gets a form letter every year asking if he is still alive. Although there is something life-affirming in writing back, “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Yesterday morning, while hustling to get breakfast on the table and pull the troops together in time for Mass at 10:30 am, I was humming along with Breakfast with the Beatles. Until I was taken aback by an obscure George Harrison song - all I can remember is his singing about loosing one’s teeth. This was not funny. So there’s my Memento Mori - anything having to do with dental despair.

Both of my parents had not-real-good teeth. So they took care of mine like I was some sort of show pet. Fluoride tablets (to compensate for well water), fluoride treatments, constant brushing, flossing, cleaning. And good health habits. (Until stress caused me to turn to things like Twizzlers. But I’m done with those babies.....) I’ve never smoked. I can only think of two times in my life when I when to sleep without brushing......

There was the stupid summer night during my college years when I came home so inebriated that I fell asleep in my sister’s bed. And she was in it. And when she pushed me out, I didn’t even stop to brush. (All I can say in my defense? At least I wasn’t driving that night.)
And there was the blissful night that Eddie was born in the first floor guest room of our old house and I neglected to ask for someone to bring me my toothbrush.

And still. Time marches on. Decay snuck in around a filling I had put in twenty years ago. I, too, have my fears. Call me, Oprah. We’ll talk.

*$#*$(!#! or when bad teeth happen to ‘good’ people
Root canal. Starting next Monday when the nerve in my tooth has calmed down enough to work on it.

‘Thkool’ temporarily cancelled until the teacher’s upper lip unfreezes enough to talk.

So I curled up on the couch to pout and watch the news.
Fox News Channel had an encouraging short item about the resurgence of Latin in American education. Some children appeared to be dancing the Mexican Hat Dance while chanting, “sum,.es, est, sumus, estis, sunt.” Excuse me, but we invented that. Oh, well, it only works with your shorter verbs. For example, “ambulo, ambulas, ambulat,” becomes more difficult. Especially if you try to dance while conjugating.

Back to the Trib....
Things have been pretty busy around here and I decided I could go without the Chicago Tribune some days and save big money in fifty cent increments. It looks like I’ve missed out on some fun. According to the letters the other day, the October 1 edition had another piece by or about disgruntled women who want ordination to the Roman Catholic priesthood. What is the Tribune’s interest in this anyway? Why not an endless series of op-ed pieces by sedevacantists proclaiming why John Paul II is not really the Pope? Or would that be at cross purposes with the unhappy writers who need the Pope to blame for their problems....

More about the Trib later. There is an interesting article on page 1 about parental complicity in the ever increasing absence rates at Illinois schools. I would love to link to this article but I’ve forgotten my ‘user name’ or password. The article did mention the necessity of having bodies in desks in order to receive state and/or federal monies. I’m glad someone was honest enought to mention that. Schools have not always been too concerned with the education my children were receiving, but were very concerned with their ‘showing up.’

Nostalgic moment: When I was in high school, there was no necessity for parents to call in to announce an absence. Just a note upon our return. When we reached the age of eighteen, we were considered responsible for ourselves and could write our own excuses. I just loved writing, “please excuse me, I was unwell yesterday.”

Never Mind the Punkin.......
dateline Chicago (north suburbs) - Frost on windshield of car.
Too real.
Weren’t we just running the AC 2 weeks ago?
Thanks to St. Anthony for quick response to quick plea for help. Found that scraper.
(defunct credit cards just aren’t adequate for a full-size van)

More thoughts while watching Sponge Bob....
It’s a legal holiday. I’m entitled to sit in my jammies watching Sponge Bob.
I checked Dr. Dictionary's word for the day - contradistinction \kon-truh-dis-TINK-shuhn\, noun:
Distinction by contrast; as, "sculpture in contradistinction
to painting."
That made me think of my sister. And how contradistinction would be a good word to describe us. I often say that we are so alike and so different that we are like two sides of one wacky coin.
But.......here is where we meet. Though we have very different views on sexuality, morality etc. we have reached a mutual agreement that there are just too many ‘sexuals’ in the world. That is, people who define themselves by their sexuality and drag it vociferously into every area of their influence. So my sister, who knows more (or does she just think she does?) gay, bi-, lesbian folks than I do and is supposedly sympathetic to their ‘lifestyle,’ is just as sick of hearing about it as I am. We’re all ‘sexuals.’ But at what point did it become necessary to announce it in every situation?

My point? Some things are better left unsaid in polite company. And if you think Bob and Patrick are gay, keep it to yourself. If that is your ‘take’ on the sweet, animated world of Bikini Bottom, enjoy it and leave us out of it.

Voting soon?
To find out about candidates who haven’t been blatant enough with their pro-choice endorsements to make you want to vomit when you see their campaign literature arrive in the mail, check out We Vote Pro-Life.com.

To School - or Not to School?
Tomorrow is Columbus Day (well, Columbus Monday or whatever it should be called.) We’ve dusted off our model of the Santa Maria, to be placed in our ever changing living room tableau of which I am curator.

Now that Martha attends a “real” school, everybody has been reminded that it is supposed to be a school ‘holiday.’ Maybe I’ll just drag Martha into our activities.........

Oh, that’s right........there will a short reprieve for the student body while I go to the dentist.
Science class - why Twizzlers pave the road to dental misery.

One More Thing........
Watching Top 5 on Food Network. It is hosted by Bobby Rivers. I remember him from Channel 12 in Milwaukee when I was a newlywed. He has aged well. Really well.
The weirdest thing - I recognized his voice. Before I saw his face or name, I said, “That’s Bobby Rivers.” I can’t always tell my children apart when I call home, but I can remember Bobby Rivers’ voice.
That’s it. Going to bed.

How to Ruin a Romantic Evening...
Bring up Jimmy Carter.
Talk about foreign policy re: energy policy.
Alienate husband by appearing closed minded about the importance of ‘good’ energy policy.
Don’t bother asking him to run out for Gummi bears........

TV Can Be Good.......
UnWrapped on Food Network is showing how Gummi Bears are made.
mmmmm..........
I left my crisis Twizzlers next to the computer yesterday. Everybody who has been on the computer must be having a crisis, because the Twizzlers are gone. Wonder if I can find some Gummi bears at 10:00 on Saturday night? Maybe I should just pack it in for the night.

More a-mazing stories....
Martha spent the day in Wisconsin with a friend’s family. They went to a cool corn maze that was a combined tribute to the Packers and Bears. She brought me an arial picture......wish they had a web link so I could show it.

My sister didn’t loose anybody in the maze on her day out. They rode on a camel and my sister got to pet a kangaroo.

Just when I thought it was safe..........
to put down that remote...... Now that I have my very own outlet for my media apoplexy, I needed 24 hours to calm down enough to write. We were sitting around last night. Emily was driving home from school and we were waiting up and watching Monk (just at nine pm, not eleven). I find this to be a very engaging program (not just because half of all my relatives have some sort of OCD - am I one of them? - maybe) and one that is not too filled with the offensive and off-color to the extent that I just plain won’t watch or watch with the remote in my hand in case something dreadful appears when the kids are in the room.

So...........we’re watching Monk. Actually Rick, Chuck and I were watching Monk. Eddie was spinning on a chair and running on the treadmill, just keeping up his energy for when his big sister walked in. Chuck’s attention may have been drifting and he was leafing thru the latest MacAddict. I hope. In between ads for whatever (unlike last week’s show which actually had an ad for Paxil - if that wasn’t savy I don’t know what is. What better show to hawk SSRI’s?),
up pops Dr. Joycelyn Elders. She starts to talk about the dangers of oral contraceptives for certain women, blah, blah, blah. Rick had a chip implanted in his brain during an alien abduction - it keeps him from noticing any TV advertising and allows him to pick up where the show left off. So he does not notice what this woman is discussing or my futile attempts at a subtle throat slashing gesture to get him to turn it off. I didn’t know where she was going with her talk, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. Dad was two feet from the TV controls and oblivious to my signals to pull the plug on the doctor without calling attention as to why. When she holds up a package of vaginal contraceptive film (I guess it’s like those Listerine breath film things only...........well, whatever) I am forced to lunge across the room and screech, “get rid of it.” We only saw the first half of the ad. Eddie was so busy spinning that if Dr. Elders had told him, by name, to get a shovel and go out to find the treasure that surely must be buried in his backyard, he most likely wouldn’t have noticed. I don’t know about Chuck. But he did notice my odd outburst.

Since I can’t remove the TV from my home (pater is not the least of the addicts), I have had to simply explain to my husband that if he sees Dr. Joycelyn Elders appear on the screen, the channel is to be changed immediately. Don’t wait to see what she pulls out of her bag of tricks.
Her mission never is about rickets, Lyme disease, or bicycle safety. It’s always nasty. And she is trying to sneak up on us when we least expect it.

There is something loathesome about the way TV news handles any crisis or disaster by focusing on the ”Chicago connection” to any story. As if our concern , care, compassion, and sympathy are to be limited to those who are from Chicago, have passed thru Chicago or have done business in Chicago. Perhaps this is just a corporate extension of a natural tendency to try to keep the world at bay by filtering out that which doesn’t have any direct relationship to us. If we were to be truly touched by all the news, we couldn’t bear to read or listen to it. So we put it thru a triage to decide how much it will affect us.

That is why I have read the reports of the huge car accident north of Milwaukee yesterday. Several times. I stare at the reports. Tho I have seen no names of victims yet, I can’t help but feel personally touched. Words jump off the page - Ozaukee, Sheboygan, Cedarburg, Saukville - and I know these are real places. Places where I grew up. I-43 is a stretch of highway I have travelled on many times and I can easily visualize the way the highway gets close to the Lake (Michigan) and has patches of unexpected fog. My in-laws drive that stretch of highway at least once a month on their way up to the UP. It just all seems so real..........It is real. And I am stunned at the way that terrible things happen every day (for example, the shootings in Maryland/Virginia - I haven’t been there in 20 years.......) and I am able to distance myself. Feel badly, say a prayer, move on.

So I am wrestling with being someone who cares about her fellow human beings, her whole world. But doesn’t want to care so much that she is crippled with sadness and fear and doesn’t want to get out of bed.

A good article...........got my mind off of Sponge-Bob
Jonah Goldberg has a good article on ‘crunchy conservatives’ on NRO.
I shall print this out for breakfast conversation tomorrow morning.

We will probably start with “The fact that many of these crunchy cons don't like Republican or libertarian environmental policies has nothing to do with the fact they shop at Fresh Fields and everything to do with the fact they don't like Republican or libertarian environmental policies. The fact these people homeschool is immensely significant because homeschooling is immensely significant. That some homeschoolers wear Grateful Dead T-shirts is a trivial fact at best. And, to the extent it's not trivial, we might question how great it is that conservatives adopt the sloth fashion of the 60s counterculture.” That should keep things lively for quite a while.

I already explained that we were having organic broccoli because the store is always out of just plain old broccoli florets. It is not a political statement. What’s a mother to do?

And political statements..........
I am looking forward to election day just to see the end of the useless stream of politcal junk mail. (As a printer’s daughter, it’s nice to know that their business is good. Otherwise, it is just depressing. And messy, if one doesn’t have the discipline to tote it all straight to the trash) The candidates have reminded my of their consistent dedication to supporting a “woman’s right to choose.” So I know who not to vote for......

Note to Emily.......
If you read the Sponge Bob article......please don’t mention it to your brothers.
I’m sure they’ll hear soon enough.
We really like Bob. If somebody announces to the boys that he’s gay, I’ll drop on the deck and flop like a fish. That’s a promise.

Something A-Mazing.........
Corn-y pun.
My sister gave me this link.
She’s taking a bunch of kids there tomorrow. Looks like fun.

Of course he’s soft.........he’s a
SPONGE!
Can’t we just like a cartoon character?
I’m usually “defiantly cheery, emotional, gregarious and sometimes breaking out in song” but that doesn’t make me gay.

Time to quit for today......
Better get on to my real work.
Self-esteem falling...............Ellyn doesn’t even show up on the Name-O-Meter.
So........that means I’m really a loser or really special. (Maybe both!)
Either way........time for my day job.

Call my house........ask for E-Loin.......I’ll answer
Catholic Light, Victor Lams and some other blogs have had some interesting discussion on baby naming.

I do sometimes think there should be laws defining the parameters of appropriate names for children. And the variant spellings. Someone should tell parents that an unusual spelling doesn’t make them special..........it’s a mess and it can make them into a very vexed adult. I’m speaking as someone who has a mildly varied name. There are other Ellyns out there. I’m sure my parents thought they were doing the right thing. Especially being a Smith, it probably gave me a little pizzazz. They had also been at some sort of impass between Ellen and Lynn. I’ve given up correcting people unless we’re talking legal documentation. It’s just not worth the effort. Except for the clowns who can’t even pronounce it. That would be indicative of the poor phonics education in our country.

One of my first memories of kindergarten was feeling smug because I could read when I got there. (which was actually discouraged back in 1960) The teacher held up a card for each child and asked him/her to stand up when they saw their names. But she held back and gave the cards to Evelyn Helm and me (see - I’m so traumatized I remember her name 42 years later) because she didn’t think we would be able to tell the two names apart. Then, there was the clerk (named at Ellen) at Marshall Field’s who saw my name on my charge card and said, “I wanted to change my name to Ellyn but my mother said it was pretentious.” Thanks.

Of course, I’m lucky. I had great parents. First of all - they let me be born. Which is not a given in the year 2002. And if the worst thing they did was saddle me with a funky ‘y’ I’m a pretty lucky girl.

In the mea culpa department, one of my girls has Lenor as a middle name. My dad had suggested Lenore, after hearing some Appalachian song about the ‘lovely Lenore’ on public radio. Then I had the brilliant idea to make it Lenor - and anagram of Dad’s name Loren. It seemed cool at the time. It’s just a good thing I didn’t do it for a first name. She thinks it has something to do with The Raven. Whatever.

My sister (the public defender) sees all sorts of interesting names. This would lead her to connect weird names with criminal behavior. Antwan is our all time favorite. (There do seem to be more Antwans on the police blotter than Antoines) The best though, was a name she found in the state legal journal about a criminal who wanted to change his name from something extremely pedestrian to Romanceo Sir Tasty MaxiBillion. The court said no. I think it should have been allowed. How many Mr. MaxiBillion’s are in the Wisconsin crime database? He would be very easy to follow.

Yeah, we do call Eddie Sir Tasty sometimes. It did stick as an appropriate term of endearment for a cuddly 10 pound baby. I’ll give it up when he gets to a certain age............but I’ll try to remember to pass it along to his wife...........

Oh.......
Did I forget to mention that mercaptan is a metabolic byproduct that some people form when they eat asparagus and it causes a funny smell to the urine. It is genetically linked - like the ability to curl the tongue. It makes good party conversation...........at least if you haven’t served asparagus. Wouldn’t want to put the guests on the spot.

Done Kvetching........
Many apologies for my generally irritable mood the past couple of days.

We had a small but good Respect Life Committee meeting tonight. No jello on the wall at all.
(2 members are travelling back from attending Sunday’s canonization ceremony in Rome. If that isn’t a good excuse to miss a meeting, I don’t know what is. Can’t wait to debrief them!)

And before the meeting, I managed to get to our parish’s Eucharistic Holy Hour, which was just what the doctor ordered.......

Hometown....
I’ve tried to describe the town we live in and some of the bizarre pressures concomitant with privilege...........I think this article about the “shocking” drinking incident in Scarsdale, NY sounds a lot like the town we’re in (somewhere exquisitely nice, outside of Chicago). I’d love to read the comments on the site, but every time I try to connect with a YACCS comment site my computer locks up. I’m sure we’ll figure this one out.........

Oh, and this is an interesting blog. Tho I don’t have any idea what ‘asparagirl’ means. Something to do with asparagus and mercaptan etc? Do I want to know?

Culture Wars......
The Home School Legal Defense Association has a series of thoughts on How Can Homeschoolers Influence Their Culture for Good? This is something that is always on my mind. I keep thinking of a quote from Flannery O’Connor - and I’m paraphrasing here since I’m too lazy to go look it up - about how we should push back with as much strength as the culture that pushes against us.

A rather laborious and unfulfilling day (another exercise in nailing jello to the wall) has been redeemed by a good chuckle. George Weigel writes in the October issue of First Things about Milwaukee’s new Archbishop, Timothy Dolan. The Bishop’s reference to “meat-and-potato Catholics” in his first press conference, before his installation, managed to outrage a variety of people for a variety of reasons.

The description of the Catholic Theological Society’s emergency condemnation of Dolan’s “insensitivity to our animal companions,” required more than one reading. I thought it was a joke at first....it read more like something from the Onion.

What touched me the most was a quote from a Fr. Thomas Reach. S.J., who said the meat-and-potoes stess was “ ‘pastorally insensitive,’ given Milwaukee’s ‘longstanding commitment to frozen custard as the signature local dish.’ ” Perhaps the good Bishop was quite ‘pastorally sensitive,’ lest he slip and give tacit endorsement to any one particular purveyor of the sinfully delicious delicacy. Personally, we like Kopps - conveniently located when we are passing thru the Milwaukee area and always with interesting flavors. Even the vanilla is superb. Rich and vanilla-y, not just white, frozen stuff.

We also were very fond of a place called Town Pride on the far north side. (I hope they are still in business........) Town Pride was a notch above Kopps. And their windows had the best neon signs. When we were anticipating Martha’s birth at St. Michael Hospital, just a few blocks away, I hid a $10 bill in my bag so we could pick up some custard if we came home during business hours. Alas, she was born at 11:20 at night. We left the hospital around 3:00am - so no Town Pride.

Now I must prepare for our Respect Life Committee meeting tonight. That is getting to feel like nailing jello to the wall, too.

BlogWorld
The Road to Holiness has a nice reflection on why we blog, pride etc.

I wrestled with this myself. All the people who appear on Oprah and chirp about their ‘journaling’ (and is this really a legit verb anyway?) revolt me. And then when I hear about those whose journals got them into trouble, legal and otherwise - what’s my reaction? “Why did you write it down, you idiot?”

So, now I’m writing it down. It took me about a month to get up the nerve to start this. And wasn’t just techno-fear. It is narcissistic to write mainly about oneself. But several people told me I should write more. And the Tribune publishes only every third letter of mine. Also, I don’t like to write. This is forcing me to do something that some say I do fairly well but that I have always hated to do. At least I’m getting faster. My last letter that made it into the Tribune took about 2 hours and a lot of irritation. But I fear I’m developing a chattier (? is that a word?) style, that may be a bit sloppy. (So I’m self conscious. Read Karl’s excellent discussion on grammar and the decline of American education on Summa Contra Mundum.........I don’t want to resemble one of his students!)

As for pride.........I did decide to be honest. About myself. And my family. (To the extent that I won’t give them cause to strangle me in my sleep........) We are not living in Lake Woebegon - the children here are not all above average. We are not the 7th Heaven family. I wouldn’t even want to be the 7th Heaven family. (A friend of Martha’s said that our family makes her think of “7th Heaven gone terribly wrong.” I was a little hurt at first. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Let’s face it the Camdens are a little plastic. And their house is way too clean........And the sun is always shining)

Wake me up!
I just woke up from a dream that went on all night. (I know, it was probably about 5 minutes long and it’s all my perception) All I can say is that I am totally exhausted and sooo glad to be awake.

I’m not ‘into’ the interpretation of dreams, but I must say this was pretty rich.....

I went with some friends to a church in Waukegan. (Why Waukegan? )

It was next to a nice shrine to St. Therese that I had previously visited but everybody wanted to go to the church across the street. (I know of no such churches in Waukegan. There is a St. Therese hospital. Which is supposed to close in the near future. Which is a concern for people in northern Lake County, especially the poor, but I don’t think this is what my dream was about.)

The interior looked like the Pantheon, only with lots of tacky decorations. (I watched a PBS program about Rome with the boys last night. The Pantheon did stand out........)

This was like no Catholic Mass I had ever been to. There were weird Masonic things and other just plain weird things. Then they wouldn’t let us leave.

They also wanted all of our money. (That should have been a subconscious clue that I was dreaming. No one would hold me captive for my capital assets......)

I found some other people who wanted to escape. And we fought. We punched and kicked - to the accompaniment of BAMS and POWS like they used to insert in the old Batman show.
And everytime we got through the guards and revolving doors (I can’t stand revolving doors), we were in another lobby with more guards and revolving doors. I kept screaming “this is not a Catholic church.” But people kept coming in.

I woke up at 5:30.

So I may as well ‘ora et labora.’
Especially praying for the people in Maryland, who are living a real nightmare. My dreams may be awful, but today, October 9, 2002, my reality is pretty sweet.

By the way.....
I’ve had a lot of fun with the little quizzes I’ve put on here.
I’m especially proud of the fact that I figured out how to do it. So I keep doing it to reinforce the lesson.

Five of my six children have taken the Simpsons quiz. Four came up with Ralph Wiggum. (Bridget is Disco Stu......) They are not taking this well. (Tho Chuck does a very credible, “I sleep in a drawer.” ) Emily kept re-running the quiz until it came up “Cletus.” Is that a step up, Em? Oh, and I’m married to the Comic Book Store guy.
It’s a good thing I don’t take these things seriously.

Finally........
After a day of the pater familias giving up most of his time to tinker with the computer, I am finally able to read most of what’s new and get back to writing. So much chaos...........we had an AT&T e-mail address, which was absorbed by Prodigy and now Prodigy has become part of SBC/Yahoo and we chose to ‘upgrade’ our service rather than chuck it all and just get a new e-mail service. What a mess. Luckily, Dad has pretty good luck at getting real people on the phone and getting answers. But now, we can no longer run Netscape.....it just didn’t work. I guess we have Internet Explorer, which has me all confused. But, it may be good after all. For about two weeks, some blogs just wouldn’t load.........especially
Gerard’s, which is always so rich in art. But they work now. So I’m counting my blessings.

OBLIGATORY THANK YOU TO EMILY!!!! for answering Dad’s phone calls and e-mails. You are a gem!

Something neat..........
Just as I was getting back on the computer, I received a phone call from my friend Pat. She couldn’t wait to tell me that there was a home a few blocks from hers that had a Little Tykes
castle put out for the garbage. (Oh, the delights of living in an affluent area!) Rick was kind enough to put his shoes back on, we grabbed the boys and jumped in the van and drove over and picked up the castle. (Martha said she had homework, but I think she just didn’t want to be associated with the operation. That’s OK - the castle took up a lot of room!) Eddie is pretty close to the top age for this toy, but the price was right and I think the guys will have a lot of fun with it.

Pat has such a good eye. She is always finding marvelous stuff. She finds the good stuff when we go to the rummage shop, too. I always find the weird stuff. We like to fantasize about opening our own shop of ‘treasures’ that we would find elsewhere and then sell at not unreasonably inflated prices.

New interesting blog.......
I found this blog - The Fabric of Society is Here - I think it was mentioned on Tom Abbott’s blog. That was about the time I got the ‘castle’ call and ran out of the house. Sort of lost the train of thought for a while.......

It’s cool to find another mother of six who homeschools. And she eats bon-bons in her spare time! (Oh, well, I have a secret bag of Twizzlers hidden in my sweater drawer. Which could account for the dull ache I feel in one of my molars. Didn’t I just get done with a big round of dental appointments a few months ago? not again............)

He’s not exactly Dr. Nick.........but I can see why some ‘womyn’ might not like him.......
I don’t really have time to comment on this. Just wanted to pass it along.
Hope this doctor is not really guilty of resume ‘doctoring,’ - would hate to see him shot down for that.........

What I Really Set Out to Do.........
When I sat down at the computer and started ranting about injured rabbits, my daughters’ surplus of charity and deficit of prudence, pro-life issues and wimpy homiletics, I was really intending to refer your attention to the thirty-one days of Rosary information on the
Disputations blog. A treasure trove..........and it’s only day seven!

update......

The rabbit had to be euthanized. The internal injuries were extensive and irreparable. I am glad they found someone who could do it on a Sunday night. (I wanted to help.......but am not prepared to put small animals out of their misery. By the time the girls found a vet, I was toying with the idea of tapping into Dad’s emergency Xanax and giving the rabbit a lethal dose....)

I am so worried about Fran’s friend.
I worry about my children’s choice in friends. (They have a need to save the world; one person at a time, bringing them into our home........I must write sometime about the homeless man who lived on our couch for six months and the schizophrenic who had what appeared to be a ‘psychotic break’ on our front porch at 3:00 am. This is all very altruistic, but I must also concern myself with the cast of characters around here since children live here, too. If Fran needs to collect ‘broken’ people, I wish she would get her own place or go to school and become some sort of ‘helping professional.’)

Monday morning.........
Amy Welborn’s blog asked for comments on local Respect Life observances. My ‘comment’ ran longer than I intended. So I copied it here, so I don’t have to write it again. I am the parish Respect Life coordinator, and so I hold myself personally responsible for the fact that we didn’t have any thing ‘big’ happen. And I couldn’t get to the Life Chain, which was being held along Hwy 45 throughout the county, instead of at our lovely, local hospital. I’m not so sure this was a good idea - on top of having some sort of blood blister on my leg (not further comments, I don’t want to sicken anyone) I just didn’t want to stand on the shoulder of a state highway while people swerve at us while trying to drive and flip us off at the same time. Now I feel very guilty........besides having the beginnings of a cold and being up very early with Eddie, who is sick with something. I deserve my misery........I’ll offer it up. And I’ll be back at the hospital. Lake Country Right to Life prays at Lake Forest Hospital (of the slick and pretty newspaper ads) every first and third Sunday of the month. And we plan to pray there with the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe in December, which we have done for the past several years. Here are the rest of my comments............

The good news........the bulletin cover was specifically pro-life and the Bishops' letter and an announcement of the local Life Chain was in a prominent location in the bulletin. The woman who edits the bulletin is very pro-life (which shouldn't be surprising, but is. I've found the hard way that not everybody who works for a Catholic Church is pro-life) and always gives these issues prominence.

The bad news...........I am the Respect Life coordinator and I couldn't even
get myself to the Life Chain. (Long story......) And the priest at the Mass we attended is a week-end 'helper' who is never given to great homiletics so I wasn't too surprised by his homily. It touched on Brittny Spears, eating disorders, self-mutilation and some other things that were maybe less than six-degrees separated from 'Life Issues.' There was no specific prayer intention, which gave me pause, since I had sent a list of suggested intentions to the Liturgy Committee several weeks ago, (hint, hint) along with a quote from the USCCB pro-life game plan that mandates pro-life prayer intercessions at EVERY Mass. But the lector only read three intentions instead of the usual four, so I wonder if he skipped it by accident.......
I can't wait to talk to people and find out what some of the priests preached on. We have some great priests in our parish and I'm sure they did a great job.

PS - One of our associate priests has, for some time, been praying the Memorare for pro-life intentions after daily Mass. This is great.......tho I wonder about the people who walk out and won't spare an extra 30 seconds........

Just another Sunday at home.........
I am about ready to pack it in for today.
Was going to write about my conflicted feelings about another Respect Life Sunday, waking up with a knot in my stomach instead of a feeling of “mission to accomplish.” I’ll probably write more tomorrow when I’ve pulled my thoughts together.

Fran got a phone call from a friend, a sweet but rather confused girl. It appears she is in an abusive relationship and came home and found that her boyfriend had left, but not before brutalizing her pet rabbit. (I asked Bridget, “why do these people call us?” and she said because we are kind and the only normal people around. ) So I told Fran to get her to call a local shelter for abused women to get some counseling and advice, but Fran said, no, she is on her way over with the rabbit.

This rabbit did not look good. It was bleeding from the nose, not moving , and one eye looked damaged. My guess (just guessing) was that it was in shock and probably slowly bleeding to death from internal injuries. Fran couldn’t get thru to the animal hospital where she works. So the girls have spent quite a while trying to find an emergency vet that handles ‘exotics’ and would see a bunny ASAP on a Sunday night. (The internet helped - the Illinois House Rabbit Society had a nice list of vets who takes rabbits) Then Fran’s friend was working the phone trying to raise money from her parents because all of these animal emergency places are cash only.

I doubt if the rabbit will make it. The girls are off to Skokie, where there was a vet who would see them, but said the bunny would probably have to be put down. I tried to help, if only by comforting the bunny while everybody else tried to find help. I pray that Fran’s friend gets help, too. I overheard her talking to her father on the phone and she was telling him that she came home and found that the rabbit “hurt herself.” She’s covering for the idiot boyfriend - or too ashamed to admit the truth.

This whole thing is horrifying. And sad.
And I really loathe myself for feeling resentful when reality intrudes on the calm, happy bubble that I want my home to be...............

I Should Have Figured........




What lesser-known Simpsons character are
you?
Brought to you by the good folks at
sacwriters.com.

Help for what ails me.......
Check out Fr. Jim Tucker’s homily for today. I feel better already. And I think I know why I’m feeling so anti-social today.......May write more later........

This might be wrong.........
I thought this was funny, but probably wrong. Today I'm feeling really anti-social. Maybe a little ill, too. It'll take a handfull of Twizzlers, 3 ibuprofen and the maximum allowable dose of Sudafed just for me to get to the grocery store. It's a good thing I wasn't the one driving to church or there probably would have been some mayhem in the parking lot. Oh, well, tomorrow is another day.





take the antisocial test.


and go to mewing.net. because laura's feeling social.

What’s for Lunch........
I just saw on the news that Campbell’s is recalling a bunch of Cream of Mushroom soup because the cans actually contain New England Clam Chowder. I’m not too worried. This is one of Eddie’s favorite lunches.........and he still refers to it by the title of “White Soup.” I have slipped him Cream of Chicken, which is also pretty white and he didn’t protest. Would he notice any miniscule pieces of clam? I doubt it. Just so the soup is White.

More Frog Chronicles.......
I’m feeling rather sad today, that I have done some sort of disservice to the frog and my children.
Our parish had the Blessing of the Animals this morning. I had to work and made plans for Dad to pack up the kids, gerbil and frog take them up to church. Unfortunately, Dad had to work.(well, I guess I should say fortunately, since we do need the money) But the children have been cheated out of participating in what is a lovely custom. I had said that I would take the frog to work with me and ask Father to bless it at some point this morning. (The gerbil would be just too difficult!) Strange, but I’m sure he would humor me......

But the power was out for about 5 hours last night and I feel asleep before a suitable container could be found. A suitable container would be anything that would be kind and safe for the frog and also escape-proof. I’ve grown quite fond of the little amphibian but I am not willing to risk my job by having him escape in the rectory. The rectory is a lovely older building, that has been retrofit in the last decade or so with one of those air-conditioning systems that has open ducts flush with the floor in every room. To the unbridled imagination, this seems like the perfect destination of a frog on the run. One can only imagine the unpleasantness that would come about if a frog would jump into one of these tubes and then meet its certain demise somewhere in the ductwork.

In the light of day, no safe container could be found. I still feel guilty. The kids say they understand. I picked them up on the way to pick Fran up when she finished up her morning at the animal hospital and they got to see the eel that lives in the waiting room. Then they stood on the electronic scale that is used for weighing dogs. I tried to provide a quality day.......

Prayers to St. Francis for my Frances
I am going to ask the good Saint for some special intercession for my own Frances. I joke about her and circuitous career path a lot. Mainly to cover a mother’s aching heart and over-active mind. (The other night at dinner I got tremendous laughs when I said Frances was Sanskrit for “I am temporarily between situations.” Her father, whose heart aches as much as mine, laughed the loudest, needing some release for the frustrations that build up while watching a child muddle her way through life.)

If we were monied people, Fran would simply be away at college, to work out her issues on one of the coasts. But, possessing smarts but not the ambition to work her way thru college - this is where I make obligatory reference to sister Em who is hustling her derriere off putting herself thru school - she lives with us and pursues an endless array of jobs.

This week she was called back to the local small animal clinic (St. Francis, do you hear where I am going with this....) after being turned down for a job last week. The girl they hired showed up for one day and never came back. The wonder of this is that Fran likes the job. Mostly clerical - doesn’t have to touch much excretia - and a good use of her organizational and ‘people’ skills. I’m praying that she stays at it. Even if she doesn’t decide on a career in animal care or office management or whatever. Just to get in the habit of holding one job for a decent amount of time, saving some money, maybe enrolling in the local community college part time, whatever. I really want what is best for her........

So, for today, I may give Sts. Monica and Augustine a (brief) rest and ask St. Francis to intercede for the new receptionist at the Small Animal Clinic...........



October 4, 1970
This is a day I remember well. I had my gall bladder removed and the first thing I heard coming out of the anesthesia was that Janice Joplin had died. Strange day.

......confuse the hell out of women trying to answer the call to the spiritual life.

Jeff Miller has some good comments on a group of groovy nuns doing their best to do maximum damage...........

J’accuse....
I realize that I am guilty of doing something that really irritates me when done by other writers. I recently griped about Garry Wills writing a 9/11 memorial piece in the Chicago Tribune and he managed to drag in his grudge with the Catholic Church. Some people have a way of dragging their own agendas into any situation, welcome or not.

So when I consider that I wrote about the absurdity of a British study on mens’ shoe size relative to size of other essential body parts, I invoked the name of Dr. Peter Singer, who just happens to be another person (along with the ubiquitous Wills) on my grudge list.

Perhaps it would be fun and cathartic to try to bring these people into every gripe I have with the world. Such as a short essay on how much I hate the color of my living room (something more subdued than prison-pink,that looked deceptively neutral when we moved in 4 years ago, with wear and tear + lipid stains from little fingers), why I cannot paint it at the present time and manage to work Garry Wills name in somewhere..........

My whole family has been having fun with the various tests I've posted. Just about everybody has come up a Jester in their past
lives, except for Martha, who was a murderer. And then Chuck, who was a Jester, but re-skewed his answers to come up as Queen
Victoria.

Then I get this e-mail from Em......

Hey Big Mama
I'm a chupacabra (I'm what some call a "blood-sucker". I have to be around people all the time. I hate to be alone.)

What can I say, Miss Emily..........if the shoe fits.
Perhaps Chuck can help you with a do-over!

Smells Like Vatican II Spirit
Those of you who feel some conservative Catholic anger (or I might say orthodox melancholy) and can remember the tune for Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit should check out Jeff Miller’s touching parody.
Now if I can just get the tune out of my head.......

LILI
I must look back thru yesterday’s work and find where I misspelled hurricane. I think I spelled it hurricaine, which is something I probably learned during hours spent at the dentist. I think HurriCaine is a fast acting topical numbing agent.

Am praying for all those people down south. I can’t imagine facing weather of such proportions. Where I live, really bad weather is faced by running to the basement (tornado) or plopping on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn (snowstorm). I guess people get used to accomodating their lives to the fluctuations of the local weather.

The first time I was in Louisiana and saw highway signs that said, “Hurricane Evacuation Route,” I was amazed. I knew that hurricane’s happen, but to see it acknowledged in such an immediate yet casual way was strange to my northern eyes. A Hurricane Evacuation sign is as weird to me as a sign that would say Danger: Falling Snakes. (or should I say frogs) These were more unsettling than the Frost Heaves signs that are in Vermont.

I shall begin my day with gratitude that the Lord placed me where I am best adapted. I run to the basement about ten times a day doing laundry, so there are plenty of tornado drills. And winter can be rough some days, but the ground doesn’t heave.

What? Me Worry?
Several bloggers have mentioned their results in the philosophy test mentioned by Fr. Jim Tucker. I do not wish to discuss my results until I get professional advice. Though I can mention that I scored pretty low with Nietzsche and Sartre. It’s the Alfred E. Newman (90%) that has me concerned.

Now this one has me worried..........I think we've had the frog too long!



What Spooky Being are You?

Flexible?
So often people refer to the flexibility of homeschooling as being one of its greatest benefits. I, too, like to think that I am taking advantage of that flexibility. But I am forced to examine my own flexibility this school year and am a little discomfited by what I have found.

First, daughter #4 pressed a case for entering the local public high school that I just could not prevail against. For the sake of family harmony and to give her a chance, she is now in ‘real’ school. I have my trepidations. It is not a bad or dangerous school. (Unless one counts the dangers of affluence and privilege) In fact, it is quite a highly regarded. But I worry nonetheless.
Perhaps, also, pride comes into play here, since she has chosen some other school over our school - more specifically, she chose LFHS over me. So, yes, I am a little hurt.

I had already ordered most of our materials by the time we decided on putting Martha in school.For her, I had ordered Traditional Logic I: Introduction to Formal Logic from Memoria Press. Oh, well. The catalog said it can also be used with bright Jr. High students and so I decided to forge ahead with Chuck. The primary reaction exhibited was MEGO (my eyes glaze over), tho he did perk up a bit when we got to a paragraph by Chesterton on logic and truth. But in all honesty, our logic lessons have been as satisfying and successful as nailing Jello to the wall. But it has taken me a bit to admit this, cut my losses, and shelve the Logic book for a year or so. So much for flexibility. The program is flexible but magistra is a little stiff.

On the other hand, we are all having a good time with another one of the new programs we received, Lingua Angelica. This is a supplementary Latin program to aid in understanding of verb conjugation and noun declension thru the learning of traditional Latin hymns and prayers. Year one suggests just memorizing many of the items before moving on to the workbook. The CD that came with the set is just exquisite and I’m sure we’ll enjoy it long after the course is finished. (I believe it can be purchased separately thru Catholic Heritage Curricula) And for once, we’re a bit ahead of the game, since we already know the Signum Crucis, Pater Noster, Gloria Patri, and dinner blessing in Latin.

The Frog.......biding his time
The laundry room frog is happily (to the best of my knowledge) biding his time waiting for release into the wilds of northern Illinois. The boys were cleaning their room and found the ‘soothing sound machine’ that has a ‘summer night’ setting. I suggested setting it up next to the frog house so he feels more at home.

When I was very young, I went to the florists with my father. (I think this was a foray to buy a rose bush for my mother and newly born sister) Dad made an impulse purchase of a pair of incredibly realistic looking ceramic frogs. For over forty years, these frogs have been all over the place. On my Dad’s desk, the kitchen window sill, book shelf. They really can make the unaware jump back at first glance. When my parents died, I inherited the frogs, and they’ve been all over the place here, too. In the fish tank, over the kitchen sink, under the couch. So the boys decided to place this pair (who are, by the way, not identical) in the frog’s house to make him feel ‘happy.’ Personally, I think it is kind of creepy. Sort of like, if you were holding me captive at your house, and then went to Nordstrom’s and brought home a couple of mannequins to keep me company. But it’s the boys call. And the frog has complained. (I think.)

Silly Me
Silly me.......I went nuts and spent all my available disposable income from my extra work in August on curricula and other materials for our homeschooling. This was my plan and I didn’t think twice while writing those checks.

Now my sister calls and wants to know if I’m up for a long week-end road trip to New Orleans. (This would be in two weeks, somewhere between hurricaines.) About all the money I have is $1.75 that I found between the cushions of the couch. How could I have invested all my cash in the kids’ education when I could be blowing it on shrimp, crawfish, too many cocktails and late nights in blues bars............What was I thinking? If I really wish to work myself into a pity party I can check out the BourboCam to see what I’m missing. I just checked it out. I saw the Lucky Dog cart that I will be pushing thru the French Quarter someday when I have retired from maternal duties. (If I still have enough strength left......that would be in at least ten years. And I’m running out of momentum quickly!)

Jackie, Don’t Spit at the Conductor
I read an interesting report on a Danish study of the dangers of too much scolding in childhood. The expert was quoted , “"Parents who want to keep a close relation with their children should not scold too much, or they will soon be alone. It's silly because we are pushing away what is dearest to us."
Do you suppose the young fellows in Milwaukee who beat a man to death were scolded too much or not enough? I certainly don’t approve of berating children, especially in situations where they need simple correction. But I think our society is suffering from more of a dearth of parental correction rather than too much. (with the exception of the parents that I always am behind at Wal-Mart while they yell at Junior that he’s gonna get a whuppin’. ) On the other hand, my sister the public defender tells me that very few of her clients were never spanked or verbally abused. So there must be a middle ground.
I was yelled at a few times when I was a child and it was more than appropriate. For instance, the time I decided to memorialize the years spent in my childhood bedroom before moving to a new home at the age of ten. So I proceeded to carve my initials into the window sill. Somewhere between l’s my father found me at work and he scolded. Tirade was more like it. But I deserved it. (And obviously, it was not so common as to be unmemorable)
My family has a phrase that we invoke when discussing lack of adequate parental correction. (aka wimpy parenting...) “Jackie, don’t spit at the conductor.” That was what my father would hear his aunt say to his cousin while on the streetcar. No pinch of the arm, no strong reprimand, just a lilting sing-song “Jackie, don’t spit at the conductor.” I wonder what ever became of Jackie........

Is it a shower of roses......
....if it comes wrapped in a cellophane bag? All I can say is that I prayed to St Therese more than usual yesterday, including the oft used...please pick for me a rose from the heavenly gardens and send it to me as a message of love. At dinner time I found next to my plate a big bag of rose petals. Technically speaking, I know where they came from. The Irish Princess drives a delivery truck for a local florist and it is not unusual for her to bring home flowers that are close to the end of their saleable life. But I thought that finding a whole bag of rose petals on October 1 was more than a nice coincidence. So I scattered some around the statue of St. Therese that I had moved into the living room for the occasion. (I also tried scattering some on my hutch and the table in the living room for a lavish effect such as I saw when loitering about the lobby of the Hotel George V in Paris. Just as I thought when in Paris, this is an effect that plays out as messy looking when you try it at home.......)
Thank you St. Therese........

The Violet
Just thought I’d share this lovely poem that I was using today with our lesson on St. Therese.
I found it in a wonderful book called The Harp and The Laurel Wreath by Laura M. Berquist. It’s quite well known in homeschooling circles, but I would recommend it as a resource for any family interested in introducing their children to poetry. (I knew it was great when one of the first poems I found, just opening it randomly, it was Strictly Germ-Proof, a favorite from my childhood. It also contains liberal doses of Tennyson, Shakespeare, Hopkins etc.)

The Violet by Jane Taylor
Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew,
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its color bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused its sweet perfune,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.

I’m not writing this to be vulgar.......
I was watching the news this a.m. while getting dressed and saw on the ‘crawl’ (which, as a compulsive reader I cannot stop myself from reading) that a study out of the UK shows no correlation between shoe size and the size of a man’s penis. (Sorry to offend, gentle reader, but I could find no circumlocution that didn’t come across as too coy or evasive. So I decided to just blurt out the facts.) What bothered me about this, is that someone actually bothered to study this bit of folk wisdom. How does one come up with funding for such a study? How does one rationalize that there is some sort of purpose to be served in proving the ‘facts,’ one way or another? It just struck me as strange. I cannot imagine approaching any type of academic institution with even a one line proposal, let alone a detailed plan for carrying out this endeavor. And who would wish to participate as a subject? Ick.
Aren’t there a lot of important issues that should be addressed? There really isn’t anything one can do about one’s shoe size (or sizes of much else) so why study it? Was the shoe industry behind this? Or was it the glove industry? I’ve heard those stories, too..... I guess in a world where someone like Dr. Peter Singer can find employment, any kind of academic pursuit valid.
It’s just one of those bizarre things that I can let bother me this morning, so I can push the real issues to the back burner for a while......

So many Saints, so little time.........
Am looking forward to a busy week. This is always a fun week, since the religion lessons just about teach themselves. Actually, I should have worked the Archangels into last week’s lesson plan. Adding them to Saints Jerome, Therese, Francis and the Guardian Angels should have heads spinning by the end of the week. (But I mean that in a good way!)

Beware of the Groovy Nun
Jeff Miller’s Atheist to a Theist blog gives an excellent link to a story about a priest who had the backbone to speak out against a groovy, Church-of-What’s-Happening-Now nun. I must quote Jeff’s pithy summary of his reaction, "I thought the request was "Feed my sheep" not
"Poison my sheep" with false doctrine."

Calling All Ben Stein Fans....
I know there are Ben Stein fans out there. Anyone? Anyone?
Check out this article on NRO

What Was Your PastLife?

Local Woman at Mercy of Appliances....
OK, now I’ve fixed the resolution or whatever and I can read the screen.
Now the clothes dryer quit.
Will the surprises ever end.............?


The Frog Lives On........
........and will be blessed next Saturday morning before being released at the forest preserve. The diet must be helping - he’s making lots of happy noises. Or at least loud enough noises to disturb Martha as she does her homework. It could only be better if the park attached to our church had a pond that we could simply guide him to after the blessing. (I must work on Saturday morning, so Dad will have the pleasure of transporting frog and gerbil. He was out of town last year and missed the fun. And it should be fun........just watch where you step.)

Greetings from Tiny Town
I arrived home from mass with a plethora of ideas to write about and the quiet time in which to do it since Dad took Rod and Todd to early church and then to Grandma’s to watch the Chicago Football Bears on TV (which I may have mentioned before is about as fun as watching paint peel for me!) But when I turned on the iMac all of the type is very tiny. I can hardly read anybody else’s blogs, let alone my own writing. This has happened before.......but I don’t remember how to fix it. Rather than be paranoid and assume the family is ‘Gaslighting’ me by way of the computer, I’ll take this a divine nudge to spend the afternoon on school preparation.