Halloween Greetings...
May I suggest that you sample (between the mozzarella eyeballs and mummy cupcakes)...

Sally Thomas on The Drama of Hallowmas, Fr. Robert Barron on vampire mania, and a WSJ article on the brilliance of the late Shirley Jackson.
(it's been too long since I read We Have Always Lived in the Castle. I must put it on the "to read" list.)

Today in Home Ec
Frances will work with Eddie to create a Jello brain. (I just grabbed this pic randomly off of Google images...our brain, I think, is going for the real gray matter look.) Now that we have a brain mold, I think it would be funny if we offered to bring a Jello mold to every family gathering and always bring a brain. Kind of like when I was first married and always making Jello fish with the one delightful copper mold that I received as a wedding gift. But this would be funny. Wouldn't it? Or am I trying to find a way not to be invited to large family gatherings? Or both...

More World Deterioration
Andre Agassi cops to using crystal meth - how dangerous! how déclassé! - while I, who have not picked up a tennis racket with any serious intent in many years, have developed tennis elbow. In my left arm. (Which greatly limits phone answering and left-handed drinking while at work.)

The television is telling me what children want for the "holiday." Being old fashioned, I'm assuming the holiday at hand is Halloween. But, nooo, we've already skipped ahead to Christmas. (Judging from the wrappings and decorations in the commercial. Of course, they are too PC to name the holiday. But elves? Aren't they a bit of a give away? Unless they were just tiny Maccabees*. Thanksgiving? Isn't that the gateway to pre-Christmas preparation (outside of the Church's Advent)? One would think not...

I haven't even had my Christmas panic dream for the year. And that usually happens in July. But I did wake up sweating and gasping for breath this morning. Dreaming that it was Ash Wednesday and I hadn't prepared the liturgy sheets, etc. It's true what they say about not being able to read in dreams...I was pulling out files left and right, but couldn't quite find what I was looking for.

The township maintenance truck was in front of our house again - the workers gazing wistfully at the sinkhole around the storm drain.


Because of the travel plans for the weekend, I still have not done my big shopping for the fortnight. But I brought my Crocs to work with me, so I can slip into them on my way out and head straight to WalMart before I loose my ambition. Perhaps there should be some small reward for me...

It's Wednesday, the day the cleaning ladies clean our offices. I can't hear myself think for the whirring of the hoovers. And I could almost swoon from the lemony smells of the various cleaners and waxes. (I must always remember not to lean on any desks or handrails - they've all been waxed and are waiting to take me down.) Their attention to detail shames me and makes me wish I were a better homemaker. That usually fades by the time I'm home on Wednesday afternoon, disabused of my fantasies, working and schooling among those with
all the best attributes of the Nerd Herd, the Collyer Brothers and the cast of "Shameless."

*chocolate maccabees are a delightful substitute for elves in stockings on December 6. I know.

The World Continues to Deteriorate
Despite the fact that I bailed on the road trip (more about that later), I decided to take the day off. Those vacation days don't rack up against purgatory time, so I may as well use them.

So, I'm going to have some fun. Starting with observing what happens when I'm usually not home. (not much - for better or worse. Now to clean up that suspicious puddle near the front door.) Some rainy day reading. Run out to the mailbox (in my nightgown) to get those NetFlix back in circulation. Maybe take Eddie out for a cup of soup at Panera - we haven't done that in a long time. Say a rosary for the girls safe return from the north woods. (There was snow and a close call with a deer on the way up. I told you so!)

And be able to report the latest on the decline of civilization. Starting with this. A good blend of everything that I don't like about Halloween and show biz parenting.

Whoa! Not So Fast...
While browsing through a Christmas catalog I found, in between the blown glass flowers, frogs and fortune cookies, this bit of presumption ready for personalization. I would hope that my loved ones would continue to pray for my soul, rather than assume my immediate admission to the beatific vision. Now to find a catalog with a "Christmas in Purgatory" ornament...

Ellyn Loves You All!
A high school classmate of my husband submitted a sketch rather than the standard senior portrait. A sunset with the caption "Ralph Loves You All." (This was in 1971 - makes sense, right?) My years as a yearbook photographer and Rick's appearance on many athletic teams pale in the family's eyes when compared to Ralph's bit of acting out. Though the kids and I (and probably Rick, too, after nearly forty years) wouldn't know Ralph if we passed him on the street, we know of him.

I've been thinking about this fellow I don't know. I am tempted, in regards to our parish pictorial directory, to commit a "ralph." As happens so often, I meant well. I've known about the pictorial directory since...since before it was public knowledge. I also stood at a recruitment table after Mass on four Sundays in July. But the time to register for the portrait itself got away from me.

Quite honestly, we're not a family portrait type of family. And the bigger the family has become, the more odious the task of assembling the troops. Just because I stood at the recruitment table (next to the poster that I had made) doesn't mean that I initially had any intention of participating. We're not really a participating type of family. And when the subject came up around the dinner table, I announced that either we all sit for the portrait or none of us appear.

So it became a matter of scheduling the portrait when everyone was available. Not easy but doable. Or it would have been doable if I hadn't waited until the last waive of the conductor's hand on the last train out of town. We received a notice at work about the last dates available and I tried - I really tried - to schedule our portrait. Didn't make it. Ooops. But that's OK - I do have this lovely sketch I could submit...


Which leads my to my next pickle. When we were given the final dates I also received a special card that I was supposed to give to the photographer so that I could have an individual photo of myself for the 'staff' section. Double oops on that, folks.

It doesn't matter to me. Some people are quite eager to have their pictures taken to commemorate various events - I am not one of those people. If they really want me in the directory, could I just submit a sketch? A doodle? A happy face? (Or maybe my MadMen avatar, which bears a striking resemblance, down to my June Cleaver pearls and ubiquitous $5 WalMart red dress.)

Ellyn Loves You All!

I Know Good Kitsch When I See It*
In the summer of 1978, when Rick and I were impoverished newly-weds, The Ideals Publishing Company liquidated a great deal of its original art. I insisted on going to the sale - just to have a look at some of the pictures from my favorite Christmas picture book. The paintings were large and impressive and only selling for about $750 each. Where are those paintings today? I have no idea. We certainly didn't purchase one.

Why am I thinking about this book in October? Besides the fact that a certain section of my brain (labeled: WORK) is already sweating Christmas, a reissue of Jolly Old Santa Claus had popped up in my amazon recommendations. I already have an abridged version in board book form, which I am sure I will be sharing with Lily this year. Seeing how much good condition vintage copies of this are selling for makes me regret, if only for a moment, all the wear and tear my sister and I put on this. And then there were all the years the kids and I would study each whimsical scene from Santa's workshop... (The story? I don't think it has that much of a plot. Santa delivers the gifts that the elves have made. Mrs. Santa runs a tight ship. Everybody is pretty exhausted by December 26.) In the realm of secular Christmas books, this is still my fav. And I'm flattered that amazon thinks I would like it. Some of the other recommendations worry me...


*trust me, I majored in Art History.

Road Trip
This is shaping up as a very busy week. The world obsesses about Halloween and I'm already deeply into Advent at work. Once I finish the Advent Vespers 'worship aids' and I dive into Christmas. And there's the altar server pizza dinner reminders and the tabulation of the altar server attendance statistics (which I actually brought home with me last night; they were never looked at owing to my suffering caused by the exquisite angel trumpet plant flowering in the family room) and some stuff with the binders for the next bible study course. Oy - I want to go back to bed just from thinking about it.

But I have to have all my home and work affairs in order by noon on Friday. The girls (Fran, Bridget and Martha) and I are taking off to the north woods to visit my sister and her family.

Oh, and I still have to locate my costume for Saturday night's party. I was a nun two years ago. My costume is of the fantasy "What I Want to Be When I Grow Up" variety. I really enjoyed wearing it. At least until the coif gave me a headache. To kick it up a notch this year, I'm thinking of dressing as an incorrupt saint (Thanks for the costume advice, Fr. X!) May St. Catherine Laboure; I think I could pass myself off as a Daughter of Charity. I'll pass out Miraculous Medals but not say much. That's my idea of party participation.

I'm Not Really a Nun - Neither is my Sister a Flapper

It will be so great to see what they've done with the farmhouse.
Here's what they did with it on Mother's Day:

Believe me...it needed it!