I! Me! Mine!

"When I get married it won't be the same as my party. I'll have a fiance. It won't be just what I want, it'll have to be what he wants too."
Arnold Wolf, emeritus rabbi of Congregation KAM-Isaiah-Israel in Chicago's Hyde Park and not one to mince words, has this to say: "It's really, really dangerous. It communicates narcissism instead of obligation. It's the worship of the child, instead of the child's worship of God."
Of course the sample ‘kid’ is Catholic. As if last year’s article about splooey First Communion celebrations didn’t make us look stupid enough. We had Chuck’s godparents over for cake (a really good, top drawer cake from Deerfields) after his confirmation. After that and the medal on a sterling chain (he’s a man now, no more cheap chains...) we still came up about $39,955 short in the coming-of-age expenditure department. Can he ever forgive us?

Best of all, you should be on your way about 45 minutes after the procedure.
The question is.....on your way to where?

After nearly 3 years of hard work...

a big day for my pastor...

Cradling a statue of St. Martin de Porres, sophomore Miguel Arellano and freshman Miguel Nunoz led 100 schoolmates Monday down Genesee Street in Waukegan to attend class at the first Catholic high school to open in Lake County in more than 40 years.
After a mass at Immaculate Conception Church, the students walked to St. Martin de Porres High School, the seventh high school in the nation to be modeled after the Cristo Rey Jesuit High School in Chicago's Pilsen neighborhood.
The Cristo Rey concept, which combines academics and religious instruction with off-site jobs to defray the annual $8,650 tuition, enables students whose families cannot afford private school to take advantage of a Catholic college-preparatory curriculum. The school in Waukegan opened with 74 freshmen and 26 sophomores.

A note from the Embot

In case there was some doubt in my mother's mind, I thought I should share this with all. This girl is someone I graduated Lake Forest High School with. You can also see her info at this site, which is from the Olympic site. When I was in track while going to HS, Jillian was a runner and a jumper. I was a thrower and occasionally she would try her hand out at it. I guess she found her "thang" after high school. Oh, if I had only been so famous...

-- Embot

Embot says...

Big Ed needs more than a quart of teeth. I must remember to nap with my mouth shut. Visions of those urban legends of folks waking up in an ice filled bathtub minus a kidney..... Em is still job hunting (a good interview and another interesting lead yesterday) and is filling her free time calling ever dental person she knows looking for more teeth. Fran said she could hook Ed up with some dog teeth, but I don’t think they’ll make the cut for ‘canines.’

Yeah. Right here. On the Oriental. With all the lights on.
A certain beagle is pushing her luck. It’s not that rainy out there this morning.

O!

Holding a copy of "Anna Karenina" while searching for a breadless turkey sandwich in one of the busiest criminal courthouses in the nation, TV talk show host Oprah Winfrey seemed confident she would not be picked to be a juror Monday.
Don’t think I’d mind being a defendant in front of Oprah. There are a variety of buzz words guaranteed to get her sympathy. I could play her like a violin. The other 13 jurors would be another question. Not that I’m a criminal, or nothin’.
Although.....the breadless turkey sandwich thing concerns me. If they don’t sell turkey and vegies (AKA a turkey salad) couldn’t she just eat around the bread?

Our Matinee....


Bridget and I made it to De-Lovely.
How can I describe it? De-cadent, de-spairing but set to de-lightful music.

Isabel Raloff Smith, August 31, 1922 - August 16, 1988

From the Shouts & Murmurs in The New York, July 5, ‘04:
Lord? Please don’t let me die in a funny way....Perhaps I should clarify a little. I do knnow that I’m going to die someday. (Maybe soon! That’s Your call.) And I know there’s nothing funny about death - at lest that’s the current thing from this side. I’m just asking to not die in a way that leads people who don’t know me to e-mail one another news items about my death......Even if I don’t die in funny way, I’d still rather not die on the same as some other person who does die in a funny way....

Grief is like childbirth in its rhythm of pain alternating with moments of relief in which one can catch one’s breath and prepare for the next assault. My mother died sixteen years ago today. The first days of raw sadness were broken up with intermittent fits of the giggles over the fact that Mom went on the anniversary of Elvis’ passing. If she had been a big fan, we could have said, “How cool, how fitting.” But she wasn’t. She didn’t understand The King’s appeal in the fifties and became more perplexed over time. So her demise on August 16th had an irony that was a blessing for us.
I missed the Shouts & Murmurs piece when it came out a month ago, but ran across it yesterday. A nice piece of comic relief. But I would disagree with the author - maybe I would like to die on the same day as someone who died in a funny way. For the family’s sake.
There’s a candlelight vigil at Graceland. That’s my signal to hustle off to Mass and pray for Mom....

We have a winner!

By opening our absurd back-to-school supply list contest to post-graduate and doctoral students we approach new levels of excitement in the pursuit of all things necessary. The winner: Embot’s fiance, ‘Big’ Ed C. His winning item? One quart of human teeth (all sorts; not just wisdom) for his first semester of dental school. Now that’s something you don’t see folks hunting for at Wal-Mart.

Home Depot shoppers charged in cart fracas

I would never attack anyone with a 2 by 4. But there was a broom that was looking pretty useful that last time I was at Wal-Mart. Not to excuse anyone’s behavior, but I can see how these things get started. Everytime I shop in some sort of ‘Mega-Lo-Mart’ I find myself afflicted with sensory overload and hyperirritability. Too bad sensitive types such as myself (and the fellows in that article) can’t buy our duct tape, 5 dollar shoes and generic Listerine in a cool, calm, aesthetically attuned atmosphere (let’s say something like Nordstrom’s) instead of having our souls sorely tried in the crucible of Wal-Mart.

But perhaps it is good for me.....not just in the budgetary sense.

A counter-intuitive morning....

My instincts say, “Go back to bed; grab some more z-z-z-z’s before work.” I must persevere and put one irritable foot in front of the other and get to Mass. When I start the day foaming at the mouth and ranting about the Confederacy of Dunces which broke into my house during the night, I know it’s time to work couter-intuitively. So two dogs escaped, there are dishes in the sink, no one remembers where the Hoover is (wink, wink) and I have to make sure there is an adult here to talk to the Comcast man when he comes to fix the cable line he bungled up over a week ago. And I’m almost tempted to call in sick from work (what the heck, I’m never really sick. I deserve a day off , right? Even if I’m hourly, so it would be costing me to stay home...) except that I brought my mouse home with me last night. There is a night employee whom I have begged to stay off of my computer...to no avail. Ed C. explained to me why Office ‘98 is almost impossible to lock-out with a password in the event that someone just wants to noodle around with the word processing features. He also told me how to unplug the computer and put a little suitcase key through the hole in one of the prongs. But we don’t want to stoop to that, do we? Do we? Anyway, I think taking home the mouse is a very immature, junior-high type tactic, but since it’s my mouse anyway (donated it to the church as an upgrade) and the person who is fiddling with my computer can’t take instructions written in 28 pt. type, what the heck. But, anyway, I’d best go in today. Need the money. And I have a daytime co-worker who needs my computer on occassion.

Do I really think going back to bed will make it better? Experience has taught me better. When my day starts with demeanor somewhere between Lois from Malcolm in the Middle and that kid from The Exorcist, sack time is not what is called for. Time for a little spiritual readjustment.

Honestly,

I’ve never been into cheerleading in a big way. And the older I get, the skankier the cheerleaders look. On our little shopping trip yesterday, a local high school was having a cheerleaders’ car wash in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Rick was annoyed with my annoyance with the fact that the girls were barely dressed, tho dressed identically in what by some stretch of the imagination could be called a ‘uniform.’ He rationalized that it was hot and they would be getting wet. (Hey, I did my share of high school car washes and never fainted because I was wearing shorts and a tee shirts rather than ‘hot pants’ and a skin tight white tank top.) I said I would never let my daughter perform what they call “cheers,” not to mention work a fund raiser in a Hooters’ uniform knock-off.

Walking in to Wal-Mart, I was approached by a slightly more modestly dressed JV cheerleader asking for contributions. Wish I had more money to work with. I was so tempted to hand the girl $20 and tell her to buy some clothes for her friends.

The boys were feeling out of it...

because they were the only kids in Wal-Mart and Target not wondering about with a list of absurd teacher requested school supplies. I misunderstood their despair and offered to have them help pick out any new supplies we need for the year. But the problem was that they wanted to be among the children with a list of impossible to find supplies and parents with severly frayed nerves. So I offered to make up a list. Just so they can have the experience.......How about 4 pocket folders - orange, light blue, chartreuse and puce. No substitutions. 4 spiral notebooks with covers to match. College ruled; 85 pages only. No substitutions. No buying a hundred page notebook and tearing out 15 pages.


While wandering the toiletries aisle at Target I was aghast at the family working through the quandry of a school list that requested 2 packs of unscented baby wipes. The unscented wipes were sold out and the frazzled Dad was trying to convince his fourth grader that he would not be expelled for bringing in scented wipes. (I’m not so sure he was right. Schools can be pretty liberal when it comes to flavored condoms, but you’d better be toting the unscented wipes... And why would fourth graders be needing wipes any way? Lack of running water? Better hygiene? An attempt to keep kids clean while minimizing trips to the washroom?)


I was trapped in the checkout line (with 1 item) behind a woman who spent over $200 on school supplies. My mind flitted between sympathy and wondering where the heck all the scissors, glue bottles, protractors, etc purchased last year have gone. Do they get dumped at the end of the year? Is anything salvaged - at least for home use?

I scooted past this lady on the way out because increased security had men checking the carts that were overflowing with stuff. I didn’t see her following behind me when I shouted to Chuck something about, “Sorry it took me so long - I couldn’t help it that I was stuck behind someone buying $200 in school supplies. “ Chuck tells me that the look on her face showed that my comment did nothing to lift her spirits. Ooops.

They call me baby driver
And once upon a pair of wheels
Hit the road and I’m gone ah
What’s my number.....
Martha’s back. Bridget hitched a ride up to the north woods with some friends headed to Hibbing, MN. The girls drove back in Martha’s new (‘93 Sundance) which was a gift from her aunt and uncle. Except for the overheating incident (all the fault of the Dave Matthews’ fans clogging the highway outside of some Milwaukee concert venue) things went smoothly.

I shoulda figured....

You speak eloquently and have seemingly read every
book ever published. You are a fountain of
endless (sometimes useless) knowledge, and
never fail to impress at a party.
What people love: You can answer almost any
question people ask, and have thus been
nicknamed Jeeves.
What people hate: You constantly correct their
grammar and insult their paperbacks.


What Kind of Elitist Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
I try not to insult other people's paperbacks. I've been known to read some against my own prejudices and have been pleasantly surprised. (Never read White Oleander just because I am contrary enough to not want to like anything that Oprah would recommend. When a similarly disposed friend lent me the book, I gave it a try. Quite fascinating.) OK - so I am a grammar Nazi with the family. I try really, really, really hard not to correct the grammar of total strangers. Really.
Via Summa Mamas.

What...
is it about "scrapbooking" that drives my husband crazy? He says it is the turning of a noun into a verb. And, of course, the expense. I can't stop looking at all the scrapbooking stuff every time I run into Michael's. In fact, I come up with reasons to go to Michael's so I can hang around looking at papers, stickers, templates etc. Realistically, I think it is a little late for me to archive the lives of my children and our 26 years of family activities. Their babybooks show my lack of dedication to this kind of project. Embot has a complete volume dedicated to her first years. Fran has a rather sketchy babybook. And poor Bridget, born 15 months after Franny, has but four words written in her book. (and that's only because I count von Huben as two words.

GOP wants Keyes

But talk show host needs to think it over
Talk show host? He’s more than a talk show host.

"I do not take it for granted that it's a good idea to parachute into a state and go into a Senate race," he said before meeting the Republican leaders. "As a matter of principle, I don't think it's a good idea."

Should he decide to parachute in, there are several lovely places for rent right here on Smith Ave. I’d bake a cake....

Achtung Baby!

or

"SOY SAUCE! SOY SAUCE! SHE'S COVERED MY PARIS GOWN IN SOY SAUCE!!

Embot’s beloved Edward told me that heretofore unsalvageable CD’s can be redeemed by gently massaging - in an eliptical motion - with Brasso metal polish. I finally remembered to purchase some Brasso (not actually owning any, since I polish all my copper with a homeade concoction of generic catsup and kosher salt) and decided to try it on a hopeless copy of U2’s Achtung Baby. As I started, while the potent fumes tickled my nostrils, I had visions of Mary Tyler Moore’s character in Thoroughly Modern Millie believing the evil Mrs. Meers explanation of soy sauce as a stain remover. What if this was some big joke? But no, Edward C. would not steer me wrong. It worked. It really worked. I wonder if the Brasso people know about this ‘off label’ use of their product....

Presence of white butterflies signals the start of infestation.

And while we were admiring the convolvulus, I noticed some dainty white butterflies flitting among the ornamental kale. Eeeek. Time to whip out the chemicals. Pyrethrins are potent neuro-toxins for the little green worms that destroy the lovely ornamental cabbages. (I’m sure I mentioned that I solved this problem several years ago by misting the garden with RID furniture spray that I had purchased in a paranoid panic when I found out that the neighbor girls had an intractable case of cooties. I never needed it, but was too cheap to toss it. It came in very handy. You should have seen those little worms writhe.)

I guess you had to be there....

Me: “Have you guys seen my gorgeous convolvulus?”


Bridget: “Must you talk like that? In front of my friends?”


Friend Scott: (to no one in particular...) snicker, snicker, snicker...

Yeah, He's the Boss.

But he has no influence on how I vote.

Oh, and has anyone seen my 'Greetings from Asbury Park' beachtowel? Just in case I want to burn it in protest. Or use it. Or whatever.

Nice Idea…
Republican sources said a late entry into the race may be former presidential candidate Alan Keyes, a conservative who served as an ambassador to the United Nations in the Reagan administration …
There’s a duplex for rent across the street from us, in case he’s looking to relocate.

All ‘round weird week-end. Maybe it’s the moon.

I did finish one writing project that I was doing just to prove to myself that I could carry it to completion. The rough part was that it had to be submitted electronically in a PDF format. That was a little mind boggling. Rick patiently helped me convert the piece to a PDF and to attach it to an e-mail. I don’t even know how to send attachments. He was quite patient. I broke out in hives.

The dogs are still crazy.