let's start....
the New Year's cleaning with my e-mail folder. I have over 900 messages. They can't be all worthy of saving.........Maybe I should resolve to start 2003 by unsubbing from some of the e-mail groups that I can never find time to read. Like FlyLady - an extremely helpful, get-organized, get-your-house-in-order service. Unfortunately, I haven't actually read my FlyLady reminders in about 6 months. Rick keeps kicking them into my folder where they have piled up and added to my new problem of cyber-clutter.

I got a rock......
now I can't get the little lime Life Saver picture to work. Where's Emily? Oh, out to dinner and having fun like young people do on New Year's Eve.

My sister and a bunch of people are having a family slumber party at a hotel with a pool. Sounds like fun. I missed her call today while I was at the dentist. But I'm so relieved to hear that the package with Big Blue, the security blanket, finally arrived. It only took a week and a half to go about 600 miles. At least it got there.

But I Wanted to be Cherry!?!



Find out which LifeSaver you are.

thanks to a link from Kathryn Lively

Seriously, I think lime LifeSavers taste like bathroom cleaner. Or what I think bathroom cleaner would taste like. Contrary to popular opinion around here, I know what bathroom cleaner smells like. Really.
Although I may not clean again til '03.

But cherry..........mmmm. I lived on cherry LifeSavers for a quite a stretch when I was dealing with 24 hour a day morning sickness while expecting Chuck. PharMor (boy do I miss them) had big bargain packs of just cherry. Keeping a cherry LifeSaver in my mouth at all times allowed me to fulfill obligations like leading a Brownie Troop without having to excuse myself to vomit. The secret to keeping my stomach under control was different with each child. (Embot - limeade and apricot sparkle candies, Eddie - French Onion Soup, lemonade and potato chips) Of course, I now have the teeth of a woman who lived on hard candies......finished up at the dentist this morning - one last filling. He said that's all.........for this year. Ha, ha!

R.I.P.
Any of you La Leche Leaguers out there are probaby familiar with the name of Dr. Ernest Robbins Kimball. Just ran across his obituary in the Trib. Fascinating . He died several days ago at the age of 93.

Let the revelry begin.......
I may have previously stated that a great improvement could be made in the calendar if we could only celebrate Labor Day and play the Super Bowl on January 1st, thereby rolling my three least favorite days of the year into one. Forced 'jollies' are such an irritant to me. Being the contrary sort, I just can't get excited about a holiday that says I'm supposed to have fun. (This is not like the spiritual joy implicit in holidays such as Christmas and Easter. I'm talking about a holiday that says I should put on a funny hat, imbibe too much and dance about just because the calendar is about to flip over.) Why I am like this?.........I don't know. No bad New Year's memories that I can think of. Perhaps it is a hold over from childhood, when the arrival of Guy Lombardo and Baby New Year meant the return to school was not far behind. Is it because my birthday was once, centuries ago, New Year's Day but somehow it was moved to January 1st and I feel robbed? I don't think so. I just don't like being told when to have fun.

What I like to do on New Year's Day is clean. Straighten up closets. Purge the various little cubbies and hiding places in my secretary. (That's the piece of furniture, you know, not an employee....) Martha is turning into a real chip off the mater block. I heard her rummaging around her room at 11:00pm last night and she said she had been overcome with an urge to clean.......Perhaps I'll cook the books today and see if there is enough cash to send Rick and the kids to see the new Lord of the Rings movie tomorrow. That will buy me a big block of time to sort through stuff, listen to my music (loud!) or maybe take a nap. That's the ticket......

If.......
you’re finding it hard to say good-bye to ‘02, this article from the Chicago Tribune might cheer you. Some of it is old news, but there were a few gems that I missed......such as
That response: "It was actually Pepsi-Cola, and it could happen at any time."
An urban legend about a terrorist who warned people who were nice to him not to drink Coke after a certain date grew so prevalent that Coca-Cola, in September, had a response up on its Web site.
and the too gross...
Also pulled from the market: Rugrats massage oil.
Mattel recalled a best-selling Harry Potter toy, a vibrating broomstick, after receiving many complaints from parents that their daughters were spending far too much time playing with it.
and just plain funny......
Next brilliant move for G+ J: 'Child' becomes 'Culkin.'
A very messy public divorce, with suit and countersuit, ended the short relationship between talk host Rosie O'Donnell and the Gruner + Jahr magazine company, which had renamed its 125-year-old McCall's as "Rosie" in early 2001.

It's PayDay!!!
So I really must be off to Wal-Mart for TP, PT, LT, dtgnt, etc. My inclination is to crawl back into bed and figure we can wring out the toothpaste tube for another couple of days. When I'm being tempted in that direction, it's usually a sure sign that I need to go to Mass, stay for the rosary and then get on about my business. Crawling back in the sack is never as great as think it will be and is usually the start of a disjointed day.

Will do my best to stay out of Target for 'just a look.' Did go to the Highland Park Target on Saturday night with Em. It was more of a mother/daughter bonding thing than a bacchanal of 50% off holiday purchasing. Though I did find a few gems that I'll save for Karen's St. Nicholas box next December. Brass ornament hooks! (OK, at $.75 a package, I did get some for myself. But I don't think I'll replace all the old hooks.......) And a pickle ornament. Next year they will be in their new house and a pickle should be a nice 'first Christmas in the new homestead' type gift. Otherwise, I avoided buying tons of gift wrap, etc. since I don't have a good place to store it for the next eleven months. And that kind of hoarding makes me think of my father, who would come home from the supermarket on December 26th remarking about the people buying all the Christmas wrap at half price and his perception of their supreme confidence that they would still be alive in a year. (My father wasn't really the pessimistic sort..... but he certainly did enjoy conjecture about the purchases of his fellow shoppers.)

Huh?
My spousal unit has never even heard of Rael. Where has he been? Why is he bothering to watch all sorts of sci-fi stuff on the tube when the news is just as entertaining and whole lot scarier?

Francophobe tendencies?
Ah, ha! I am not the only one who doesn’t like the looks of the Clonaid president. Victor Lams is even a bit more scathing than I am. (Maybe it's just me or my Francophobe tendencies, but doesn't the president of Clonaid look like a Sid and Marty Krofft puppet?) I do not usually comment on people’s looks, since that is a matter chance, genetics, God’s blessing, etc. (So I am plain as a mud fence and not gorgeous, like, say Candace Bergen - well, hey, I can’t help it......) But those who present themselves to the media as spokespeople should be just a tad vigiliant about the perceived ‘look.’ And looking like a drop-out from the cosmetics counter at Field’s just says something not too ‘scientific.’

Not........
that I’m anxious to be a grandma - in fact I’m still reeling from the realization of how young Paul’s ‘grandfather’ looked when we watched A Hard Day’s Night on DVD Friday - but when I was Em’s age I was married with an Em on the way. (But when my mother was my age, I, her oldest, was a mere 14.) This NRO article has some good food for thought.

And, yes, by starting my family while quite young, I can enjoy sitting at home playing on the computer while the littler guys sleep and the oldest is driving to O’Hare to fetch her younger sister. I knew this would pay off some day!

And my relatives think I am weird?

Rael also attacked Christianity, and particularly the Vatican, for its opposition to cloning. 'Everything that the Pope is against, I support,' he said. 'The Catholic Church is the worst enemy of human nature.'

Those who adhere to Vorilhon's teachings are encouraged to be respectful of other people and to enjoy the sexual company of others, including those of the same sex.

''He surrounds himself with attractive, glassy-eyed women – maybe that's why he likes Florida in the winter,'' said Eric Siblin, a Canadian writer who interviewed Rael for the Canadian magazine Logik three years ago. Siblin said he went to a pro-cloning event in Montreal run by the Raelians, whose interest in extraterrestrials and free love were evident.

''The meeting drew hundreds of people,'' he said. ''Lots of them were sci-fi nerds, and there were strippers, too.''

The sect sells science fiction knickknacks at its theme park/compound outside Montreal known as UFOLand, Siblin said.

And his top spokesperson has two degrees in chemistry? I’m so sure. She can’t even tweak her hair color.......

One other......
little intrusion on my bubble of Christmas happiness. This op/ed piece in the Wednesday Tribune was about as welcome on Christmas as the toy moose who poops chocolate jelly beans and not nearly as amusing..........

Being Catholic in a season of trial and love
By Delle Chatman.
I had recently found out that the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith--which is the strong-arm of the Curia in Rome, the Vatican's heavy-hitters--had put pressure on U.S. Catholic magazine, which is published here in Chicago by the Claretian order, to recant its pro-women's ordination ideology.

I had been featured in an article published in February 2001 that profiled five women who felt called to the priesthood. We simply shared our deep conviction that God had called us to serve as priests in the Roman Catholic Church. We were civil. We were calm. We were honest. And yet someone in the Chicago archdiocese wrote a letter to Rome because he felt the magazine needed to be censured officially for printing such feelings. Shortly after that I was told by my academic advisers at CTU that now that I was formally studying at the seminary and am also a very grateful recipient of the Augustus Tolton Pastoral Ministry, a scholarship that pays for my theological education, I have to be careful of what I say. I can no longer talk publicly about my call anymore. It had been excruciating to subvert my vocation in the first place, but I did so out of obedience and tried to find another acceptable way to serve.

As you can see, she is willing to talk publicly..........

Oh, well, go read the whole thing. I haven’t yet distilled my dismay into a letter to the Trib. (Which I would have done ASAP if it hadn’t been a holiday.) Wouldn’t it be a nice present from the Trib if they would just skip the dissident essays on a religious holiday? Just once?

EEEEW
Well, this, thanks to Mark Shea, got my mind off of the mouse that we found in the house.......read ....Show me a culture that despises virginity and I'll show you a culture that hates children for the full background.......

Was Saddened and perplexed........
when Martha’s junior high yearbook listed Everclear’s “Father of Mine” as ‘song of the year.’ I questioned, who but a bitter child of a broken home would want to listen to that song. I guess there is a bigger audience than I thought.

Relapsed Catholic had this link to Symphonies to Sorrow.....As the songs of modern rockers indicate, children continue to feel pain from their parents’ divorce even many years later. This is one of the reasons God condemns divorce so strongly. That’s something to think about in a culture that says if parents are happy, then children will be happy, too. More often than not, it just isn’t true.

Just ask the real experts on divorce: the kids who have gone through it and who are now writing rock-and-roll symphonies to sorrow.

Eeeeew
WND First cloned human baby reportedly born today
Birth of girl 'went very well,' says UFO group responsible

We’re all appalled by this. But Em is especially grossed out. She has had one too many incidents of people telling her she looks so much like her mom. (I’m flattered when someone calls me Em by mistake, but I’m 47. It’s like being in one of those old soap commercials, with the mother and daughter who are mistaken for sisters.......)

Finally.......let’s hope this starts a trend
Judge finds Planned Parenthood 'negligent'
Failed to report 13-year-old's abortion, case mirrors pro-life probe..... (from WND)

IF.....
I were to allow my bubble of happiness to be burst..........which I won’t............

I’d start with the Flower Fairy coming home on Christmas Eve and telling me that her boss gave everyone except her a Christmas card - with cash inside. It was not so much the lack to the cash, as nice as that would have been, but the total lack of Christmas wishes, considering she has worked there almost a full year. I must say it was difficult for me at Mass,in the processional queue at the back of the church, when the pastor thanked this man for the lovely church decorations, to not stick my index finger in my mouth in an exaggerated gagging motion.
(There is also a certain amount of bad feelings abounding because Fran has only been at the animal hospital a few months and she received the humongous Godiva gift basket, a scarf made in Ireland and other perks. Bridget quotes Charlie Brown, “I got a rock.”)

Karen called around 9:00 pm to wish us a Merry Christmas and to say that she would probably never set foot in a Catholic Church again. Must redouble my prayers. I should have warned her that Christmas Eve Mass can be of a penitential nature for even the most devout and she should probably just visit on an average Sunday. Will wait until she calms down to pursue further discussion.

Allowed myself to be dragged into a religion/political discussion with my lapsed Catholic brother-in-law over dessert on Christmas Day. Didn’t help that I had imbibed several large glasses of champagne and he had had most of a bottle of chardonay. I could hear, with my failing right ear, my mother-in-law asking my two sisters-in-law why I insisted on using the term “pro-life.” And then there was some sort of laughter........ My father in law just stood up and left. Luckily, we had to leave to see Frances off on her Vegas trip around the time lawyer/brother-in-law was declaring that belief in God was no different than belief in the Easter Bunny. Sparkling domestic wine does not leave me in the best position for apologetics - that is best done sober and even, perhaps, heavily caffeinated. I think my sister-in-law blames me for getting him drunk and putting her in the unhappy position of doing the driving home to the south ‘burbs.

When the kids settled down, I put on my new flannel nighty and crawled into bed to watch the Godfather on Bravo and nurse my psychic wounds and blooming headache.

So what is it with lawyers and God? Between my sister and my brother-in-law, I am quite concerned.........

Fran....
made it to Vegas. Christmas Night. To be the maid of honor at a friend's 'wedding.' (You can infer how I feel by my use of apostrophes around the word wedding.) What can I say? Well, I've said plenty......so I'll just have to stop. I guess I'm glad that some of her peer group are thinking of marriage - as twisted as a Vegas wedding is........

So I told her I'd pray for a safe flight. And begged her not to come home married or with a tattoo.

The Thought that Counts.......
I am so touched by the gifts I received for Christmas. Permit me to brag..........I am not bragging so much about the material goods as the sweet thoughts behind them........

Em read about the Holy Habits paper dolls here and ordered a set for me. I couldn’t believe it. They are so nice. And I tore my closet apart yesterday to find my 40+ year old ”It’s Me!” paper doll to try the habits on her. They fit!!! The habits do look good on me.

Em also read my bemoaning the loss of Teresa Bloomingdale’s I Should Have Seen it Coming When the Rabbit Died from our local library’s collection and tracked down a used copy for me from eBay or half.com or some such resource. I actually cried (a little - I’m not the lachrymose sort) and that is why she made me open it on the afternooon of the 24th, while we were alone. She didn’t want me to “break down” in front of the family.

Rick saw a Bouguereau print that I had used in making little Christmas cards for the people at work. He downloaded it, tweaked the colors to perfection, printed it out and framed it.

I received so many other things that showed people were truly thinking of me. I am touched.

No Jaguar........no diamonds.........no mink.................just the love and affection of my dear, dear family.

Oh, and there is the huge TV and DVD player that the kids chipped in to get us. (To bring us through the 20th and into the 21st century) A mixed blessing. It will take vigilance to make sure the gang is not hypnotized. And I couldn’t even work on the iMac yesterday with that stereo sound thing 18 inches to my left blasting the Count of Monte Cristo. I thought our little computer monitor hooked up to cable was quite nice, but I have to be gracious in accepting this and not go all Elvis and threaten to shoot the thing the first time I see something I don’t like. And the public library and video store are going more towards DVD’s so it is time to catch up. (Altho this is also a golden moment to start buying discarded VHS tapes - just like I did when out video store got out of the BETA business........)

Third Day of Christmas!
What a wonderful Christmas this is.....I hope all of you dear friends are having a likewise blessed and, indeed, jolly time!

I have finally learned after almost half a century of life, not to judge everything by my ‘feelings,’ (e.g. - Christmas is Christmas whether or not I feel particularly jolly), so I am doubly blessed to actually feel the way I think I should. Giddy as a school girl, perhaps?

For the first time in many years, Mass on Christmas Eve was more joyous than penitential. I refused to let the nattering crowds get me down. Because I was the lector, I was guaranteed a seat, but we arrived an hour early so my entourage could find a please to sit, too. This year, they were actually able to sit with me. I broke my usual rule about not toting entertainment items to church (the boys are 8 and 13, for Heaven’s sake) and brought notebooks and pens so the guys could sketch until Mass started and not use up all their ‘sitting still energy.’

Going to church yesterday morning was superb, also.
The church was decorated fabulously, but it was also divinely quiet. The yada-yada-yada of the Christmas crowd is absent on the a.m. of the 26th. The best of all worlds...........

That old stand by of the Lutheran Christmas pagaent......... Stille Nacht


What Christmas Carol Are You?
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Wishing you all........
a very Merry Christmas. Will be back Thursday.

Right now I am off for a little time of quiet prayer and reflection before the hyperactivity of the day begins. Since the Church is still in the decoration process, I shall find quiet meditation time at the dentist. Oh, well, you have to be gracious when the doctor offers a time to squeeze you in. I am the lector at the 6:00pm Mass today and would really like to be able to read without that tiny sharp spot on my molar rubbing my tongue - I'm starting to talk like someone who wishes not to move her tongue and it's sure hurting my credibility around here. I want to do a nice job at Mass tonight.....my biggest asset is volume and enunciation............Iittle old ladies are always telling me that they like it when I am the lector because they can make out the names of the sick and dead. Nice to know I can be of assistance.


God Bless You All!

Some years....
I've found it hard to find time to watch my favorite Christmas movies. Now it's my new panacea for the early morning waking. I was up at 5:00 am yesterday. After my usual morning routine, I crawled back into bed and watched White Christmas - without interruption. No quizzical kids, no phone calls, nada.
Also, no popcorn - thought the smell would gross out Rick at that time of day.........

The husky.........
may be delayed a week. That's OK.
Things are so chaotic here now (Bridget and Fran were up past midnight baking cookies to take to their respective places of employment. Luckily, Martha and Em were here to help them.) the arrival of an energetic, hairy dog could mark 'the tipping point.' Or maybe the 'tippling point,' for mater.

Blast from the Past
Taking a break from last minute Christmas stuff.......making room for the Christmas tree and Emily (Emily of the ‘sleeping on the couch because Mom gave away your bed’ lore.) Emily and her beau, Ed, put up the 100 pieces of hand-tooled Victorian tinsel. Bless their hearts......

Relapsed Catholic has a link to an article about one of the weirdest movies I’ve ever seen. Santa Claus, made in Mexico circa 1959, is so weird I had almost totally blanked it out of my mind. I remember our little family riding home from seeing this fascinating cultural pastiche at the Rivoli theatre, in total silence. It was just so weird we had nothing to say. Karen was just a baby, but she would have been speechless anyway. It was just weird. And all this time I had been telling people that I never saw a movie I didn’t like until a bunch of us went to see The Getaway sometime during high school or college. Santa Claus was a very repressed memory.

Mea Culpa
It must be dreadful to find out disturbing personal news via your mother’s blog.
I didn’t know Emily was allergic to dogs. I thought she was allergic to cats and rabbits. Oy, what do we do now?
Are you sure Claritin won’t help? How about Allegra? Call your physician........
The boys have their little hearts set on the pup. I can take him or leave him.
Time for a movie quote...........
If we were all wiener dogs, our problems would be solved.......

now.......
I just feell ill.
Is it the nagging guilt that I must take to confession this morning?
Is it the dog?
Is it the usual worries, compounded by guilt, a dog, and disappointment that just when I thought I had my Christmas preparations well-organized there is a wrench thrown into the works?
We'll just see how I feel at lunch time.......

Congratulations, Mrs. von Huben, it’s a...............Husky?
Fran sat me down for a little chat last night. Her smile was too reassuring. And she graciously offered me any and as much as I desired of the huge Godiva gift basket that her boss had given her. “I have something exciting to talk to you about.” After a quick prayer and a few deep breaths to nip the starting PVC’s in the bud, I blurt out, “You’re not getting married next week, are you?” (This was the logical panic conclusion, based on the fact that she is flying to Las Vegas on Christmas night to be maid of honor in a friend’s wedding. I won’t even start on that)

She broke it to me as gently as possible that she had made arrangements with a patron of the animal hospital to adopt their 2 year old Husky. (All my previous arguments against a dog were moot. I had relied too heavily on the argument of we can barely afford food for ourselves/there’s no way I can afford veterinary care. I should have stuck with I’m finally past watching incontinent impulsive children tear my world apart, I DON’T WANT A DOG!)

Yes, I’ve had moments of guilt, thinking about depriving the boys of growing up without a puppy to play with. The boy-and-his-dog cliche is stuck in my mind more than that of a girl-and......We haven’t had a dog since Emily was a baby. It was Husky/Samoyed mix that Rick took in. Rick has lovely memories of Lloyd. All I can think of was that the precious months before the responsibilities of parenthood were spent taking a pup to the vet, cleaning up and training, and getting up in the middle of the night to let the over-heated sled dog out for a constitutional.

Fran and her father are in cahoots. There were no objections from his corner. She gets top-notch veterinary care, food samples, etc. as part of her job. Wouldn’t the boys just love a dog? Wouldn’t dog walking be great for Rick’s health?

She was going to ‘surprise’ me with the dog tomorrow. At least she showed good judgement in giving me 36 hours to adjust. And just when I thought we were home free with not having to worry about where to hang the glass ornaments on the Christmas tree, etc. etc. Now it’s like having a toddler all over again. A toddler that we’ll be babysitting because Miss Fran is going to Las Vegas for 4 days next week. AAAARRGH.

I awoke at 5:00 with a bad case of premature ventricular contractions. For a second I thought they were brought on by a bad dream. Then I remembered, tomorrow we are getting a dog. I don’t care if he is living in a Lake Shore Drive condo right now. All I can think of is chaos. What will he be doing while we’re at Grandma’s on Christmas Day? What will he do to the tree while we’re at Mass on Christmas Eve? Should I even bother washing the kitchen floor? If I weren’t planning on getting to Church early to get in the confession queue before heading off to work, I would grab one of those big Godiva boxes and head back to bed.........

People who deserve eternal reward........
the inventors of the 3M High Performance cleaning cloth. Excellent for dusting. No extra chemicals, sprays, etc. needed. Washable and reusable. Safe for delicate surfaces that shouldn't have cleaning products applied to them.

The only catch - they don't work themselves. You have to pick it up and work with it. That's what keeps my house from achieving perfection. Five 3M High Performance cleaning cloths in a drawer..........waiting.........

That which I should have done......
still tormented by my bad actions in Monday's research discussion.
TV- sitcom joking about focus groups.....
Radio - even Coldplay knows.......cursed missed opportunities.......am I part of the cure?.....or am I part of the disease?

OK, I'll post the results.........
I kept retaking the quiz, hoping for somethiing more feminine.....

What store to loot when civilation crumbles?
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Lots of people.....
are having that disappearing archive problem. (At least now I don't feel like I was singled out for obliteration because.........I'm a sort of blogging Charlie Brown) I'm afraid to look at mine. I think Em had more fun planned for Christmas break than helping mater retrieve and rebuild her archives.

People who deserve some sort of purgation......if it were up to me, which it isn't, which is a good thing
The inventor of textured flooring. "Hey, let's make the floor harder to clean. After mopping, the consumer can run around difficult areas with an old toothbrush. And make it no-wax perma-shine, so that abrasives can't be used to clean those low points." You don't see textured flooring in hospitals and other places were hygiene is of the essence - makes sense.

Did you know?
That the final scene of It's a Wonderful LIfe, had Uncle Billy falling to his knees and reciting the Our Father, joined by the rest of the crowd in the Bailey house. This was eliminated, one of the reasons being that British censors would not allow the "Lord's Prayer" in any movie.

The word's jerk and impotent were unacceptable.
Heaven was to be substituted for God.

Those were the days.
(I mean, would George's despairing rage at Uncle Billy have been more powerful if he had been allowed to say, "Where's the f*****g money, you dumb s**t f******g old dumbf***k?)

This...
really changes my jaded view of North Shore teens...........
The students at Glenbrook North High School were going to make sure that cafeteria worker Lidia Benitez's year ended on a happy note.

On Wednesday, in front of the whole school, Benitez received an early Christmas present: a car purchased with money raised by the students, faculty and staff.

They also pitched in to buy her two years worth of auto insurance, goodies for her new car and a car full of presents for her grandchildren.
I saw this on TV last night. It almost made me cry.

Missions accomplished...
Big Blue mailed back to Wisconsin.
Checked out 'scary clown' sleeping in manger at Church. There was also a lovely plush rabbit on St. Joseph's shoulder. Have been told that it is not unusual for children to bring little toys and stuffed animals to the creche. This is the first time anyone heard of a toy so bold as to sleep in the manger.
Put a dent in my wrapping. I prepared early this year by spiriting home recycling-bound boxes from Church. The boxes from the special offering envelopes and the Mass cards are especially nice. The Mass card boxes will be a dead giveaway for gifts purchased from Mom off the sale rack at Target. (Marshall Field's andThe GAP don't give their customers boxes that have Jesus Knocking or OLPH written on the side.)
Now that the cousins have shipped out, must prepare for the Embot's imminent arrival.
Making plans to move some furniture out of the living room to make room for the tree. Trying to find a time when we have a quorum for decorating said tree. Em has volunteered to put up the 100 pieces of reproduction Victorian hand-tooled tin tinsel. I appreciate that. After the first twenty pieces, I start to twitch.

Richards Blog has more to say on parents who ‘aren’t with the program’

He’s not kidding. I spent six years as a CCD teacher and found it hard to teach children who were taken to Mass so little. And you can’t yell at second graders for not going to Mass - it’s really not their fault. (My all time favorite was the time I asked the class who had noticed the new Paschal candle on Easter. One boy said, “We couldn’t go to Church, we were in Ocho Rios.”) I usually walked out of class feeling like Charlie Brown when he got a rock while trick-or-treating - disappointed but resigned.

Dear Mr. FTC Commissioner..........
please don’t let people put their church on the do-not-call list.
The chairman of the Federal Trade Commission said he hopes to eliminate 80 percent of unwanted telemarketing calls under his agency's plan to set up a national do-not-call registry.

This had already crossed my mind on Monday night when I was calling altar servers to schedule them for Christmas Eve/Christmas Day. These assignments must be done on an individual arrangement basis because, I fear, few parents would go along with a randomly assigned schedule.

We have servers for the two Masses that everyone wants to attend (4:00 in the Church and Midnight) There aren’t a lot of people out there willing to sacrifice their pre-planned ‘vision’ of Christmas and go to the Gym or go another time.

I agree with those who think Mass in the gym is the pits. But when I was assigned 4:00 pm in the gym as a lector, I decided to offer it up. (And tough it out - the boys don’t do well in seats that aren’t bolted to the ground. And it still smells like a gym, which makes the average person feel inclined to get up and run around.....) In my smugness, I figure we attend Mass in the Church at least 52 Sundays a year. We remember what it looks like. We’ll make do. But I couldn’t believe the reaction I got from one mother when I asked if her child could serve in the gym while she was a EEM in the Church. “We spend Christmas together.......” Sorry, I was asking if your daughter could do a service for the parish about 100 yards away from Church, not ship out to Siberia.

There’s other crap, too......I hear the parents yell in the background, “not in the gym,” “tell them we have other plans,” “we’re going to Jamaica - Aruba - Florida - Colorado - you name it.” The mother/busybody in me wants desperately to remind these little darlings to go to Mass wherever it is that they have other plans. But I’m not paid to nag. I’m paid to politely line up the altar servers. So I bite my tongue and offer it up.

While I’m feeling smug, I must add that my good sport attitude was rewarded with a call from the lector coordinator, who asked if I would give up the gym and go to the Church at 6:00 instead, because someone wanted to read in the gym at 4:00. My pleasure.

Martha
Breakfast Club.
Again.
This Saturday.
The dean called. (She has been late for study hall twice.) But I was out of the state. I knew I shouldn't leave. Not even for a few hours. All I wanted to do was see my sister in the flesh for a few minutes. Fran told him I was out. Just out. Will talk with him tomorrow.

Victor Lams is able to handle the Wiggles
in far larger doses than I can tolerate. I must be getting too old. Between the Wiggles and Rick’s cousin Phil from Sydney, the conclusion must be drawn that Australia is some sort of ADHD paradise. The Wiggles Christmas 'whatever' was on this morning, and Dave enjoyed it. My reaction was “somebody get a Ritalin gun........”

to do tomorrow

• Go to Mass - then check out the creche on the corner. The Flower Fairy told me that there appears to be a clown doll that has been placed there. It has finally crept into the spot reserved for the baby Jesus. Why didn't she stop in the office and mention it? It's been bothering her for three days..........
  
  
• Run to post office. Mail "Big Blue," Dave's security blanket, back to him. It was overlooked in the chaos of exchanging kids, dufflebags etc. in the loading zone of the Madison Hilton. Didn't notice it for about fifteen minutes........we had to stop on the east side of town to 'visit Mrs. Murphy' and "Big Blue" fell out of the back seat. I hope Karen's trip home (about twice as long as ours) wasn't too miserable with a distraught little fellow.
  
  
• Put house back together. Or a close approximation thereof.
  
  
• Find a picture book of English royalty and try to identify two of the Old English Royalty ornaments that Karen gave me as a thank you gift. Henry VIII, Elizabeth I, Victoria, Richard (the LionHearted?) are obvious, but two evade me and I don't want to 'name' them and plant wrong ideas in the boys' minds. I thought of the whole wrong idea thing as we passed through Wales, WI tonight. When I was a child, this was the home of the Wisconsin Juvenile Correctional Facility (perhaps it still is). But I was under the impression, for the longest time (too long), that our state was sending juvenile offenders off to the UK, maybe to work in coal mines or something. It didn't make sense - but the newspaper was always mentioning young hoodlums being sent to Wales. If the Journal said they were going to Wales, well, they were going to Wales. Case closed. It never did mention them coming home singing "Men of Harlech".........that should have been a clue.
  

almost too beautiful for words........
Rick, Eddie and I drove Anne and Dave up to Madison to meet their mother this afternoon. The van couldn’t make the trip, so we had to downsize the crew and leave Fran in charge, since this is her afternoon off.

Though I had packed a bunch of lively Christmas CD’s, the mood in the car got progressively gloomier. By the time we were past Lake Geneva, it was so dark and gloomy that I couldn’t continue with the book I was attempting to read. The rain poured down on us, as I tried to shush the back seat crowd and keep them from distracting Uncle Corky. (that’s what they call him - some day I’ll know why....) We finally could see sun ahead as we were about to pass under the very distinct line of the front. Rick told the kids to watch for a rainbow.

I like rainbows as much as the next person, but usually do not throw my neck out of alignment trying to watch one. There has never been such a bright rainbow. Not this side of a Lucky Charms box! And we were looking through it - it was coloring the landscape behind it. It was
too beautiful for words.

This is where the story starts to sound like a lame Touched by an Angel episode, but here it is.....
There was an abandoned old-time service station along the road. I was taken with the juxtaposition of colors - the faded white of the gas station, the bright green grass (weird enough in itself for Wisconsin in December), the blue sky slashed by the sharp colors of the rainbow. It reminded me of a certain Pre-Raphaelite painting - I’ll look through the books tonight to find it.
But the weird thing was, after coming through this trip with the most melancholy feelings - started, no doubt, by my regret that I blogged about earlier today and totally in synch with the dark sky and rain, I saw this striking display of colors.........and in front of the old gas station was one of those signs with the movable block letters. There was one word on it - PRAY. No one else noticed it. I decided to keep it to myself. Maybe I’ll share later....

Do the Embot!!!
My baby has a blog!!!!

And, no, Em, Jerry doesn't scare me.......

Perils on the food pyramid.....
Saw the noon news while 'cooking' grilled cheese for the gang.
People in Boston are finding Black Widow spiders in the grapes they buy at their local supermarket.
I remember hearing about tarantulas in bananas when I was back in grade school. (And I always enter Dominick's produce department prepared to dance a quick tarantella.) Maybe we'll swear off the grapes for a while. You know, if we found a deadly spider there would have to be a family debate between the a) kill it with a hammer b) dial 911 and c) let's put it in a jar and study it factions. Magistra keeps a hammer under the kitchen sink .......so you know how she'll vote!

That's It!!!
Thank you, Em.
You're a gem.
(Wish I could hire you to work for me full time.........)

Is this what you mean?
Embot

Ellyn Sells Out
or
That Which I Should Have Done I Did Not Do
This is another moment at which I wish I knew how to post an image. I have the perfect picture for my Christmas Card.
Many people use their annual Christmas greeting to boast of another year of accomplishment and happiness. Right now I feel like s**t. The best picture for my card (if I’m talking self-expression and not what I wish for the recipient....) is Ivan Albright’s That Which I Should Have Done I Did Not Do. This picture has been floating through my mind the past couple of days.

I had the opportunity to participate in a consumer focus group on Monday. When I agreed to do this, I saw it as a heaven sent gift to help provide some gifts for the kids for Christmas. The timing was perfect and receiving $75 for 90 minutes spent talking about myself is hardly work. The group was to be about “health care options.” As the session commenced, we were told that we would be specifically discussing Lake Forest Hospital and their future advertising strategies. And we were told that behind the ‘mirror’ sat representatives of Lake Forest Hospital. The same abortion providing hospital that I had been praying in front of just 8 days earlier.

The fun thing about focus group participation is being told that you should be totally honest. There is no need to obfuscate or dodge issues. It is one’s real opinion that is being bought.

The whole thrust of this group was to assess local residents’ perceptions of Lake Forest Hospital. I was waiting for just the right moment to interject my opinion that there is no way to disguise or beautify the fact that babies are killed at Lake Forest Hospital. It sure would have been easy. There was the talk of the hospital as a ‘country club,’ as an extremely pleasant place to give birth, as the baby hospital. God forgive me, I didn’t say a word.

I talked about how they seem short staffed, how the doctors in the mock-up ad looked like snarky lounge-lizzards, how reassuring it is that they have such great affiliations with local teaching hospitals. But I didn’t say the most important thing. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference. It probably would have had a deadly effect on the ebullient atmosphere of the group. But it would have been true. “Some members of the community find the fact that babies are murdered at Lake Forest Hospital to be a real negative thing.”

Maybe the reason I was called for this group wasn’t divine intervention to help me scrape up ready cash. Maybe I was there to tell the truth. And I didn’t.

I just never said it. It’s not like it didn’t occur to me until I was in the middle of Target spending what amounts to ‘blood money.’ I just kept waiting for the right moment. That which I should have done I did not do. And then I took the money and ran.........

Wal-Stress
So I’m not the only person who gets overwrought while shopping at Wal-Mart.
I tend to sublimate my feelings through the purchase of Twizzlers and (oh, gag) Little Debbie Cakes. It wouldn’t occur to me to clobber someone with a baseball bat.........

Give pants a chance
or
as we say in von Hubenland “CRACK KILLS!”
From Tightly Wound, the best distillation of current fashion trends. A heap of good advice, articulated in the most precise language.

Note to Em: Read this. (I don’t think it applies to you. But I’m sure you know of people who could stand to read this advice. You might be related to some........)

Celebrity Atheists
A depressing, but fascinating list of atheists, agnostics, and the ambiguous. Thanks to a depressing, but fascinating link found on And then?

The Atheists are pretty much a bunch of mopes. (with the exception of Woody Allen and Randy Newman, and in their case their appeal is mopiness) Marilyn Manson and the Gallagher brothers made it to the ambiguous list......along with the Dalai Lama and a rabbi. Will have to keep this group in my prayers.

Am not good at this Aunt thing.......
A really cool aunt (like my Aunt Tommy) would take the kids downtown. Maybe lunch at the Walnut Room, looking at Field's windows, visiting Santa. If she were alive today, I'm sure the American Girls store would be on her itinerary, too.

I made macaroni and cheese. The kids are playing nicely. (Now that we've confiscated the noodles that worked their way back in from the garage and were being swung a little to close to the prissy Christmas village set up on my hutch. So I've turned into a prissy old aunt worried about broken knick-knacks.) Martha has Karen's permission to dye Anne's hair. (They did it a couple of times over the summer......I hope they pick out a nice color. Something that occurs in nature would be good.) The cupboard is pretty bare (i.e. no chocolate) so I'll make some oatmeal cookies. Taking the gang out to buy chocolate chips is too overwhelming a prospect. And we'll work on singing Tintinabula. (Hoping the kids will go home with pleasant memories. Just like I have of my aunts. Like the time Aunt Dimi taught me to sing "On, Wisconsin," while brushing my teeth.)

Why can't life be like a song?
Had a lovely lunch with Chuck and Dave. If Eddie would only change his name to Vera, it would all be so perfect........

Many thanks.........
to Davey’s mom for wishing me a “Green” Christmas. Al Green, that is. Thanks. You’re sweet to think of me...."

And what about the USPS?
Have you seen the touching Postal Service.ad in which a mother sends a photo Christmas ornament to her husband away in the military? The children are in the bathtub. And now I read about a Wal-Mart whose employees called the police after seeing typical naked-children-playing pictures go through the one hour processing.

"In a case where child pornography or abuse is suspected, the photos are brought to the attention of the store management and a determination is made to contact law enforcement," said Cynthia Illick, corporate spokeswoman for Wal-Mart in Bentonville, Ark. "We always err on the side of safety when it comes to children."

I’m glad our kids are past that stage, because I know I’ve taken some pictures that would meet Wal-Mart’s call the cops criteria. I’ve appeared in some, too. (I mean as a toddler - my father was a photographer. A photographer who documented every part of my life as though I were a member of the Royal family. Luckily, things were less stringent then and we had a darkroom at home.) The home darkroom is a nice idea, although it is probably the real refuge of the serious perverts, too.

Don’t worry, Em. I do not yet know how to post pictures here, so I can’t put up the one of Fran, Bridget and you in the big old-fashioned bathtub with Daddy. (Just for the curious or perverse minds here, that picture was taken about twenty years ago, not last summer.)

The cousins are here......
The school day will be appropriately adjusted.
Promised Karen the kids would go home knowing some Latin (Chuck has already jumped in with Sic semper tyrannis - does he have issues?), so maybe we'll do Jingle Bells and Adeste Fidelis.
Anne is happy to be reunited with Martha and Dave is having a blast running the Hot Wheels up and down my treadmill. If it would snow, we could take them to drive through the light show in Vernon Hills tonight. (Without snow it looks cheesy........actually it is cheesy, without snow it looks dumb.) So far the kids haven't noticed our lack of DVD or the fact that we watch TV on a 15" computer monitor........I'm certain one of their cousins will inform them of the near-Amish experience that their mother has sent them into.

I didn't get so see Karen, but this is the closest we've come to Christmas together in 16 years. She arrived after I was at work. Lost a little time on the trip and didn't have enough time left to swing by church to see me and get back up to Madison at a reasonable time. Opened our gifts. She liked the framed picture of Au Pied de Cochon that Rick found doing a Google image search and printed on photo printer paper. (He also made a copy of Brassai's Steps of Montmartre, which can be purchased at no small expense in the Signals catalogue. I framed it and put it in the dining room - the girls are pleased that I am trying to stay with the French 'theme') It would have been a better gift if accompanied by some onion soup bowls and a bottle of wine - you know, a theme gift. But time among many things) ran out......

I opened mine when I returned. She gave me a marvelous screen saver with 50 scenes of New Orleans......that will be fun to play with today. And a statue of St. Expedite........I'm so tickled. I asked for a holy card and she bought me a statue! (You just don't find St. Expedite in your average religious goods store in the Chicago area - for a variety of reasons!)

Did Sartre shop at Wal-Mart during the ‘holidays’?
Food for thought at Kairos.
For a full understanding, read all the way down to last Thursday’s post on Sartre is Smartre.

Homeschool Honor Society
I have mixed emotions about this.
I had no idea that having the National Honor Society on your resume was that helpful in college admissions. And I feel that the absence of that kind of external judgement is one of the pluses of homeschooling , at least for some students.
I may look into it anyway.

(Before Embot ‘outs’ me, I’ll jump in and admit that I can be smug and maybe even a little bitter, because I knew I was smarter than a lot of the kids in the National Honor Society at Cedarburg High, but I never bothered to crack the books. So instead of processing in for graduation at the head of the line with a gold cord around my neck, I was with the ‘alphabeticals.’ My test scores must have been fairly good - I did have schools trying to ‘recruit’ me. But I feel bad in retrospect. My mother graduated from the same high school some 33 years earlier. She was valedictorian. I sure showed her I was my own girl. Have I ever mentioned that she never told me that she was valedictorian? I found her graduation program and a copy of her speech when cleaning out my uncle’s attic.)

Oh, the humanity.......
Just saw the most disturbing ad on Fox News. The US Postal Service (and let's not even get into why they are advertising or I'll start foaming at the mouth and talk about the idiocy of ComEd advertising, as though I can avoid their product.....) just showed a mother and child opening a big package and the child is throwing the packing peanuts all over the room. Charming.

The static cling, the squeaking of the peanuts when they rub together..........the mess! I am almost hyperventilating just thinking about it.

Just for fun....
Rick attempted to defend the New York Gay Men's Chorus. Based on his grandfather's membership in the Swedish Glee Club and the example of various little German marching and tuba playing groups that turn up at parades in Wisconsin, he proposed that the concept of forming musical groups according to affinities is not a new and nefarious idea. I stick to my argument that some things are just private......too private! What gets us both down is the acceptance of this group on a bland, white bread pedestrian TV show. Don't tell me there wasn't a time - and not that long ago - that a Gay Men's Chorus would never have been booked on that show.

Let’s Play the Glad Game........
Some people would be glum or jumpy just because there was an electrical fire in the choir loft during the 10:30 Mass this morning. (Our boys were jumpy and fascinated!) The timing was meticulous - just as the pastor was wrapping up a gentle little talk on the state of the parish’s finances. Nobody panicked. In fact, no one noticed much until there was a small clatter and then the none-too-discreet sound of a fire extinguisher. The choir came down stairs and carried on. The fire department took care of checking everything out. I am glad it started during Mass, when there were people up in the loft to see what was happening. It was contained quickly..........I think it may have been much worse if it had started in the time between Masses when the loft might have been empty or people were too busy to notice......

Lost our train of thought.........didn’t think of our Gaudete Sunday lesson until much later.

The Cousins Are Coming!!!
Karen called this morning and asked if her kids could bunk here for two days while she attends a mandatory DA training seminar. This should be fun - just have to clean the crap shack. (But we should be doing that anyway, right?) And wrap the gifts that I was going to mail later this week.
Some people want to put up the tree, too, but I can only deal with one crisis at a time. I’m just happy that we found a tree. By mid-December, the loss leader trees at Menard’s, Frank’s and Home Depot are long gone. We stopped at the local landscaper’s retail sales lot, lured in by a sign that said SALE. Twenty percent off of pricey trees was still painful, but brought the price down into the range of what I am willing to spend (and shaving a little out of the grocery budget) just to get a nice tree with minimal stress. I was able to sail past thr $100 Fraser firs without choking, and found a reasonable balsam. It made the van smell so wonderful. I wanted to keep it in the van when I went to Target with Martha, but we decided that we couldn’t ‘enjoy’ our shopping experience while worrying that some demented person would steal our perfect tree. (Out of a locked, scary looking van with peeling paint - of course, only a demented person would even attempt that!)

Return of the Sexuals
Must we all label ourselves, group, re-group and recreate according to our sexuality? In other words, couldn’t we just keep it all private?

What brings this up? The New York Gay Men’s Chorus singing Deck the Halls (was that intentional - did they want to sing ‘gay apparel’?) on the Today Show. Shouldn’t a singing group be based on ability and musical interest? Or is sexuality more important? I am tone deaf to a degree that makes listening to me sing a true penance for family members. Am I entitled anyway to my rightful position in the Chicago Chaste Straight Middle-Aged Housewives Chorus?

And where will it all stop? Transgendered Repertory Companies? Impotent Men’s Choruses?

We’ve gotta get you a whuppin’
This Everyday Economics article from Slate.com validates my own empirical research. Everytime I shop at Wal-Mart there is at least one parent yelling at a child that there is a “whuppin’ ” awaiting him in the parking lot. This happens much less at Target. I’ve never witnessed such a scene at Lord & Taylor or Nordstrom.

In child discipline, as in pretty much everything else, the rich have more options than the poor. If you're rich (or even modestly middle-class), you can take away the Game Boy, confiscate the car keys, or turn off the Instant Messenger. But for families with no Game Boys, no cars, and no Internet access, that whole range of punishments is unavailable.

........But according to Weinberg, the effect of income persists even after you've controlled for race and other cultural variables.

If the link is causal—that is, if being spanked actually lowers your earnings potential—and if spanking runs in families, then we have an alternative explanation for Weinberg's numbers: Low-income parents are more likely to spank their children because low-income parents are more likely to have been spanked themselves. Or maybe it's as simple as this: Poverty breeds frustration, and frustrated parents lash out at their kids. Does any reader have a better story?

I can only remember being spanked about three times. (Once when I was about three, my father found me sitting on the curb in the street in front of our house. I remember him sweeping down from behind me, grabbing me with one strong arm and giving one good swat while declaiming the dangers of playing in the street. I still can’t walk or play in the street without fearing the long arm of my father. He died in 1993, but I still feel him watching me if I’m in the street improperly!) So if the link is causal, I should be up there in the high six figure earners, right?

Don't Delay - check this out before midnight tonight......operators are standing by.......
Jeff Miller writes about a dreadful situation at St. Louis Univesity.
Don’t delay - check it out for yourself.
Besides more depressing news on the front of ‘Catholic’ higher education, I am forced to face some of my own worst demons.

What Does Your Procrastination Look Like? {Paste scary picture of me here} You:

* Ignore the task and hope it will go away
* Deceive yourself into thinking a mediocre performance will still get you where you want to go (Well, it has in the past....)
* Either overestimate your abilities and resources or underestimate the work involved in the task
* Believe that repeated minor delays are harmless, when they really add up to lots of wasted time
* Substitute one activity for another (dusting instead of studying) (how about blogging instead of laundry?)
* Focus on only one part of the task (writing and rewriting the introductory paragraph of a paper)
* Take steps to work, but don't follow through (cancel plans, take books on vacation)
* Become stuck deciding between two task choices and neither project gets completed (Take nap or read instead)
*Go watch something on TV, like the nth showing of The Godfather on Bravo or A Charlie Brown Christmas on tape.

Yes, Virginia, There is a Breakfast Club
This just in from the hometown of John Hughes........LFHS has a Breakfast Club!
And Martha is invited!!!
She went missing twice from Enriched Study hall..........I know where she was....and so does the Dean, but because she didn't have the proper paper work she now must do a penitential Saturday morning at school. I'll drop her off on my way to Mass/work. Dad can figure out when to pick her up.

I mean, Enriched Study hall? The place where you can do your homework with help and they show dubious movies that your mother won't let you watch at home every Friday morning......Why, Martha?
Keep it up and you'll be back at St. Benedict's School. (Which is now male only, but we'll gladly make it coed again if this c**p keeps up.)

Small Error
There was a small error in the Christmas/New Years Mass schedule that we just mailed out at work. The whole Christmas mailing was delayed while we waited for the schedule to come back from the printer’s after an initial mistake. We went at it hammer and tongs to get the schedules inserted in the already stuffed Christmas cards. I knew what time we need to go to Mass on Christmas Eve, so I didn’t even look at the schedule. It wasn’t until I had stuffed and sealed about 900 of them Thursday night, that I saw that Christmas Eve was listed as Monday. Too late night. It had to go out in the mail. Bulk mail can take 2 to 10 days and we just can’t wait any more. So on we went.

Ninety-eight percent of the recipients won’t notice. We’re taking bets on when the calls start coming from the other two percent to ask us why we’re having Christmas Eve Mass on Monday when the rest of the world will be celebrating on Tuesday.

Interesting Blog - doctrinaire
Thanks to Dylan for link.

Nightline......
is not the best thing to watch at bedtime. But I slept fairly well, considering that I had watched Fr. Richard McBrien blather on as guest theologian on last night’s Nightline. He shows up more often, of late, wearing clerical black. (I’m a girl.......I naturally pay attention to what people are wearing) He choice of clothing, to my jaundiced eye, is a deliberate attempt to look like a ‘serious’ theologian..........and I believe there have been times he has shown up on TV wearing some sort of generic male casual clothing, which was also meant to look ‘serious.’ His sense of what will make him look appropos to the situation is very finely tuned.

Fr. McBrien, in his wisdom, doesn’t think the Pope is capable to appoint anyone good to the post of administrator of the Archdiocese of Boston. Just a lot of “meet the new boss, same as the old boss’ stuff. Why didn’t he just get straight to the point and declare himself smarter than the Pope and worthy of the Pope’s position by virtue of his superb insight. What a smug, smirking, snarky creep.

Why Can’t I Find a Job Like This?
This is from the catalog of activities from the local community center:
Deeply relax with Yin Yoga asana and the soothing sounds of the crystal bowls and voice....Tension will ease as Marian’s angelic voice and singing crystal bowls gently calm you. No experience necessary.
The instructors: Tria K. is a certified Yoga instructor. Marian M. is an intuitive sound healer and professional singer.

I think this is the same Marian M. (full names not used to protect their dignity) that I went to college with. She did have a lovely voice. But intuitive sound healer? With singing crystal bowls? We have degrees from the same institution. And I’m eeking out a small income stuffing envelopes and answering phones.

I do think I am good at my job. (And doing an OK job at home, too) And I am of a genuine service to those who come in to the rectory. So I can hold my head up when I discuss my career choices. But ‘intuitive sound healer with singing crystal bowls’ just has that je ne sais quoi.

IMHO, w/ input from dd
Martha and I talked about that article on creeping IM language in students’ work. She claims her teachers are guilty of the same ‘crime.’

This reminded me of my own ‘methods,’ mostly developed in college while taking notes in darkened classrooms while watching all the art in the world projected in front of me. I found it much easier to take notes full of little abbreviations and also remove most of the vowels from bigger words. (e.g. - Delacroix became Dlcrx.) Later the same day (hopefully, for the the notes to be fully retrievable) I would transcribe them, reinserting vowels and other stuff. I think that process was a pretty good study aid.

I still use the same basic idea when making a store list:
TP = toilet paper
TtP = tooth paste
LT = Ladies’ things (if you have to ask, you don’t need them, so don’t ask)
PT = paper towels
LB = light bulbs
Dtgt = detergent
DT = dishwasher tablets
DS = dish soap

Well!!!
I just saw Chicago’s official Lucia girl and she doesn’t look very Swedish to me.
Last year I suggested to the Irish Princess that she enter the St. Lucia competition, since she was still griping that she didn’t win the Irish Princess competition because she didn’t ‘look’ Irish. I suppose she’s right - she does look a lot like her Swedish grandmother. But she’ll always be my Irish Princess!

Due to my one Patsy Ramsey-ish moment, Bridget is forever traumatized and vows never to enter any type of pagaent, competition etc. She was 17 when she entered the St. Patrick’s competition and I just suggested it. I didn’t force her. Of course, if I had started grooming her when she was 2.....hmmmm?

No, there’s no way she’s going to wear a crown of candles on her head and sing an Italian song in Swedish. I just know that.

Embot did a professional Santa Lucia stint about 10 years ago. Electric candles, but she looked marvelous..........So where are you this morning, Em. You’re the oldest. You should be gliding through the house singing (and you can carry a tune, unlike you-know-who), passing out little buns and cups of glog.

Is it true?
The TV says Cardinal Law has resigned.

Forgot....
how much fun the public school system is.
Must fax written permission from Martha's physician for her to take 2 ibuprofen for a headache. Mom can't sign off on an OTC drug. (I read the police blotter - I know what's really available for the students at LFHS who wish to self-medicate. And it ain't Advil.)

Found the Christmas Sweater!
Now I am ready.
Off to Mass, rosary and confession with my Bible study group. And then breakfast at the Deer Path Inn (extra beautiful this time of year), an undeserved and very much appreciated treat from my friends.

Hope Eddie is feeling better. Has the beginnings of a cold. I feel guilty going off for the morning......even though he is under the tutelage of his father and the kind ministrations of his older brother. I still feel like a creepy mom. Plus, I may need to go in to work. I need the extra hours, but this makes me feel like a super creepy mom. Even though I've left all the lessons with the boy's adequately prepared pater.

Mea Culpa
If middle-aged church ladies are doing it, it must be pervasive.
Found this Christian Science Monitor article about the creeping use of IM language in the writing of today’s kids and the headaches caused for their teachers.
To some, it's a creative twist on dialogue, and a new, harmless version of teen slang. But to anxious grammarians and harried teachers, it's the linguistic ruin of Generation IM (instant messenger).
I catch myself at work using certain e-mail type shorthand when pressed for time in taking a written message. (bil, sil, dd, lol) And I tend to forget not everyone is familiar with these. At least I haven’t reduced messages to the priests as to their itineraries to “sup?”

Davey’s mommy has some interesting things to say about irony............
People rarely know that I am joking, and the stuff I do mean seems to be hard enough for most to swallow.
I think I know how she feels. I saw a doctor once (the $5 health dept. doctor, so maybe I wasn’t expecting too much from him, but really.....) when I thought I was coming down with strep throat. I feeling sick and quite rocky from having been up most of the night with a sick child and I made what I thought was a game attempt at good humor saying something along the lines of “some days it’s unfortunate to wake up.....” So instead of an instant strep test and a penicillin prescription, I was being referred for a psychiatric evaluation. It was hard to maintain the good humor while explaining that it was just a lame joke. Maybe he just had to cover his derriere in case I did come to a bad end that day; he could point to the chart and say he had referred me to the “third floor.” [Third floor is a family code for any kind of mental health treatment - based on erroneous the notion that all hospitals have their psych units on the third floor. Not true. But try debating that with someone who insists that Lake Forest Hospital doesn’t have a psych unit because is a two story hospital.........] It was strep.

It’s too bad it isn’t easier to assess the people with little sense of irony, humor, whatever. Then we could be more careful when speaking with them. It wouldn’t be easy - just like talking to someone who can only understand monosyllables. As Lisa Simpson said, “It’s not easy being a Spaulding Gray in a Rick Dees world!”

For a minute........
I thought Fr. Jim Tucker had given me a link to a final, if hopefully far off, career option. An enterprising Illinoisian is ‘sending’ messages to the departed via messengers who will memorize them and deliver them upon their arrival wherever.
I have a certain talent for memorization and the $10 a word looks inviting. (I’d even throw in a gratis Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, Gettysburg Address or a varied selection of Beatles tunes if requested) Then I get to the details. The agent gets the $10 a word. The messages are delivered by a “volunteer.” Well, that’s a rip-off. (OK, it would be a rip off if the ‘messengers’ got the money, too!)

notes to Embot.......

• The blog is doing that bold type thing again; I keep looking for my mistakes and I find all the proper /b stuff. And it all looks fine when I preview it after I post it. Oh, well. Let me know if you can figure it out.
  
• Thanks for fixing the Weather Pixie......I do think better in Fahrenheit!
  
• I'm going to a pre-Christmas function tomorrow. Do you remember where I packed my Christmas sweater?

Clarification
In my post of several minutes ago, I did not mean to imply that seminarian Mattson was the drug dealing night manager of the Mundelein Burger King. I was simply reporting on the confluence of 2 news scoops out of Mundelein. Hope I was clear on that. Perhaps I need to be more caffeinated before I start writing? Or maybe the writing is OK, but I need to be more caffeinated to read it?

Miss one day of the Trib.....
and you miss a lot! I didn’t see yesterday’s report about an 8 year old who was expelled from his suburban school for inadvertently bringing a bullet to school with his crayons. So much hinges on his learning disabilities and his inability to know that he should have taken the bullet directly to his teacher and not shown it to his friends.
During a review by learning specialists four days after the Oct. 18 incident, the lawsuit alleges they focused solely on whether the boy's disability "prevented him from knowing right and wrong."

The lawsuit charges the district did not implement a special-education plan for the boy.

The boy moved into the district Oct. 2 from Chicago. Last year, he attended school in Naperville, where a case study evaluation found he suffered from long-term memory deficit and "is hesitant about approaching teachers concerning his feelings and needs," according to the suit.

Edwards said school officials should have taken this finding into consideration in assessing why the boy showed the bullet to his classmate.
I don’t know........I think if I reach into my purse at work this morning and find an unexpected bullet, my first reaction would be to show it to the closest person at hand. Just as a sort of, “son of a gun (pardon the pun), look what I found!,” kind of thing.

This is the part that I found sad and worrisome.....
The boy's mother had borrowed the crayons from a relative because she couldn't afford to purchase her own, Edwards said. The bullet was in the plastic container.
Couldn’t afford crayons? Relatives with stray bullets? That’s sad.

The Value of Silence
or
Melancholy News from Mundelein,IL
I don’t mean the bust of the drive-thru cocaine Burger King. BK will find a new night manager, but what about the gap left by our blogging seminarian Steve Mattson? He has good reasons for giving up blogging. Do take a look at his site (and catch his archives while available.) But I will miss reading him God bless you, Steve. You will remain in my prayers.....

Move Over, Martha Stewart.......
Check out Kathryn Lively's most excellent craft project.

Funny.......
that I should run across this review of Catfight: Women and Competition by Leora Tanenbaum so soon after my spousal unit’s casual mentioning (for the nth time!) at table with the children, “Your mother threw out the scarf my girlfriend knit for me...” Yeah. In 1977. We were engaged. And I don’t care if his grandmother knit it for him, it was the ugliest thing you could imagine.

In the dating chapter, Tanenbaum theorizes that a woman's distrust of her boyfriend's ex (or any "Other Woman" who might steal his affection) is a crippling symptom of her misguided pursuit of a husband—as though men have never experienced such base resentment.

And in the areas of motherhood...........

Tanenbaum's best when grappling with the conflicting demands of work and children. She describes the isolation of motherhood with particular care, exposing women's reluctance to discuss postpartum depression or the frustrations of raising children for fear of appearing inadequately maternal. Drawing from both her own experience (she has two children) and the work of sociologists, she articulates how the pervasive ambivalence of motherhood—in which decisions about resuming work, breast-feeding, and even epidurals come laden with value judgments—drives women into further seclusion and antagonism.

I’ll have to look for this book. Probably after Christmas. A good mother would have no time for such reading in the busy Advent crush of preparation.

I wonder if Tanenbaum touches much on education. I remember being at a La Leche League function over 15 years ago and feeling like I had been slapped in the face - right there in the queue for the salad luncheon - when a woman said she was homeschooling because her children deserved the very best education. As if mine didn’t. At the time I just didn’t think I could homeschool. Now I know how she feels, but I sure try not to articulate my educational choice in a way that might make other women feel that I had punched them in the gut.

By the way...........I didn't throw out the scarf. It was adequately warm. I gave it to charity in hopes of it finding a way into a home in which it fit the ambient aesthetic.

I agree.....
with Ms. Shaidle’s assessment of It’s a Wonderful Life as a not particularly sentimental movie:
So I'm glad Colby Cosh agrees with me: People always say It's a Wonderful Life is sentimental. The film's few gentle sexual innuendos pretty much negate that. It can be pretty gritty. It has a boarding house, for God's sakes.

And besides: sentimentality is the cornerstone of fascism, and one would be hard pressed to find a less fascistic film.

Do read the Colby Cosh article. It brings up things I had never thought of before......such as the pre-figurement of old embittered Mrs. Bailey running a boarding house when George exclaims about his “last meal at the ol’ Bailey boarding house.”

I was always taken with the ease with which Violet’s character was drawn from the very beginning:
Violet: I like him.
Mary: You like every boy.
Violet: What’s wrong with that?

It’s not a sentimental movie. (Unlike a movie I heard advertised on the radio yesterday - repeatedly - with Vanessa Redgrave intoning, “listen to your feelings.”) George Bailey may have listened to his feelings. But he didn’t necessarily act on them. We see a certain melancholy bitterness in his character - or some people just see a chump. It’s a Wonderful Life is a bittersweet reassurance, with just enough Christmas schmaltz, for all the George Baileys of the world - born older - who do the right thing, do not follow their bliss and make the world a better place for their being in it.

Attention CheeseHeads.......
This news alert courtesy of Amy Welborn.

About 600 people gathered Saturday for a dedication ceremony at the Father Solanus Casey Center, built in memory of the patient and quiet man who began the Capuchin Soup Kitchen in 1929. That charity now serves 2,500 meals a day.

Casey is being considered for sainthood, which would make him the first American-born man elevated to that status in the Catholic Church. He is entombed in a chapel at St. Bonaventure Church, which underwent a $13 million renovation for the center connected to it. Private donations financed the project.

That would make the first American-born male saint a Wisconsin native. (Is this where I should insert a GO BADGERS!!!?) I ask his intercession on a daily basis for my sister’s conversion. (I figured since she was living in Hudson and he grew up around Hudson, he would be a logical intercessor.........the fact that she is considering joining the Church is pretty miraculous to me!)

Our Lady of Guadalupe Prayer Vigil Redux
We had a turnout that was three times the attendance of last year’s prayer vigil.
In all honesty, we had 4 people last year. But this year was colder.
Everyone who came for coffee and cookies brought cookies, so we turned the social hour into an ad hoc cookie exchange. So we all went home with cookies other than those we brought.
We prayed. It was a good day.

Things I found.....
while looking in my closet for the smooth plastic rod (it ‘fell’ off of the blinds in my bedroom two years ago) that is perfect for holding the cloth image of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

• the beret Karen brought from Paris for Rick. Why couldn’t we find it when somebody wanted to take it to French class?
  
• A set of post-op CT films dated 12/96. We’ll keep those for science class. Innards will be more interesting when we know the owner.
  
• One Gap pique knit polo shirt - coral pink. Will come in handy next summer.
  
• Several foreign coins
  

The rod was never found. Rick didn’t like my idea of trying to break the other rod off of the blinds. I don’t adjust the blinds, so what’s the point, right? Oh, well. Luckily we were able to hustle up something in the garage. So much for hiding things in a ‘safe’ place.

looks like Em beat me to the punch....... Thanks, Hon. Wish you were here to party with us!
...Another big red letter day for the von Hubens.
Really.
Eddie is 9 today.

Happy Born Day Eddie

Happy Birthday Mom!

Can't believe that the peanut is nine! Wow!

Love,
Embot

Ceci n’est pas un bebe.
I think Victor Lams has locked up the winning entry in the Planned Parenthood Poster Contest.
(I’m not just saying this because we’re Magritte fans and have Ceci n’est pas une pipe as our desk top ‘art.’) This says it all.

Beset By Early Waking?
Finished your prayers? Done some reading? Still don’t want to get out of your toasty bed?
Religion and Ethics News Weekly might not be the best way to start the day.......

I flipped on the TV and came in on a discussion of embryonic stem cell research and cloning. I want to read the whole transcript of the segment and see if I missed something. There was a poignant plea by an ailing clergyman and his woman-of-the-cloth wife (Reverends Abernethy.... both are United Church of Christ pastors) to see embryonic stem cell as a gift from a God of love, compassion and healing. I didn’t hear too much discussion of the role of suffering in our lives except for a quick nod to Professor Gilbert Meilaender (Theology Department, Valparaiso University) who compares the vulnerability of an embryo to that of Christ on the cross. He believes those among us who are suffering, such as Reverend Abernethy, deserve help, but not if the moral cost is too high.

I don’t want to carp at any one denomination here, but wasn’t it a United Church of Christ pastor who was pleading the case of a ‘pro-choice Jesus’ on the O’Reilly factor?

I missed the segment on the bankruptcy implications for the Archdiocese of Boston, but did catch the piece about the trend towards Cineplex Churches. Interesting concept. Sort of like eating at the food court at the mall - each family member can find what he is craving and then everyone can meet up later. Weird.

Our Lady of Guadalupe Prayer Vigil
Some of you may be familiar with the Our Lady of Guadalupe Mission, which is an endeavor to take the image of Our Lady to every abortion site in North America on the Sunday closest to that feast day.
Many groups will be praying next Sunday, at 3:00 o'clock.
Our Respect Life Committee decided to do it today - we'll be across from the entrance of the lovely Lake Forest Hospital from 2:00 to 3:00. Lake Forest Hospital is the lovely birthplace of many fine locals (including two of my children), it provides wonderful care (it's saved a few of us - from the detached finger nails to the nascent myocardial infarction), but it is also the local abortion site. There are dreadful abortuaries in the city, but we should not forget that the lovely hospital in town with the ivy and Georgian facade is one,also.

We will be serving coffee and cookies in the Church basement afterwards.
Coffee prepared by me...........that's the risky part..........

While I was sleeping.......
Barely made it past the dunk in the swimming pool scene and I was out cold.
Someone woke me up at the end to let me know that ol' George had been bailed out one more time.
So I flossed, brushed and went back to sleep.
It appears that while I was in the arms of Morpheus, my devoted little Embot figured out the perma-link thing. I am so appreciative that I am tempted, but not determined, not to tease her with the fact that when I walked in to the library yesterday, her friend did a double-take and said, "I thought you were Emily!" I am flattered, but Emily is annoyed.

Wrong? Everything’s wrong! You call this a happy family. Why did we have to have all these kids? - George Bailey, It’s a Wonderful Life
.........Found the official It’s a Wonderful Life Book at the the library today. Lots of pictures, behind the scenes info and the complete script. Now if I could only convince some family members to act it out with me........
Wish I had a million dollars. Hot dog!

It Is a Wonderful Life!
I’m dealing with just a bit of mom guilt, since I am off to work again this morning. Just for a few hours........no one will perish in my absence but I feel guilty anyway. The mellifluous tones of my voice are just a phone call away. This makes the kids happy.......though I am still reeling from the call I received at work last spring when Fran was home with the boys..........there was no car here because Dad had run uptown to fetch the Princess from the flower shop. I could barely hear Fran over the blood curdling screams. I was able to discern something about Eddie, lots of blood, tip of his finger. The most worrisome part was the screaming. That little stoic has taken some really gruesome injuries with barely a quiver of the upper lip, so I knew the high decibel wailing meant something. So I told Fran to call 911. I left work right away and by the time I got home, Rick was at the ER while Eddie was having a finger naill re-attached (for protective purposes......certainly not aesthetic. His constant invitations to “look at my nail” made me absolutely faint.) and the girls had cleaned up all the blood. But I carry this with me every time I’m at church and I know there may be a window of time without dad home. (What can I say today? If Eddie hurts himself, call Fran at work? Maybe the vet can stitch him up?)

I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the day with the kids. We’ll do a little more decorating and tonight we’ll plunk down to watch It’s a Wonderful Life on NBC. Pater can’t understand our fascination. I know we’ve seen it a hundred times and have it on tape. But I get a certain feeling of communal enjoyment knowing that millions of other people are watching it at the same time.

It is still one of the best holiday movies. Sweet but not saccharine. As Clarence said, “I like George Bailey.” He is a good man, with a bit of melancholy. (My favorites line: “You call this a happy family? What did we have all these kids for anyway?” Some year I shall find a way to use that on a Christmas card in a way that the children won’t misunderstand and won’t depress the recipients.)

The World is a Carousel of Color........
really!!! Davey’s mom is having trouble with an unenlightened real estate agent who is put off by her purple bathroom. (Heck, that would be one reason for me to buy a house! Purple is great!!!)

I remember a display at the Milwaukee Public Museum that allowed a viewer to experience the visual perception of various animals and insects. That reminds me of how fortunate we are to experience such a beautiful array of colors, both natural and synthetic. When we were debating the strength of the dining room color, I resorted to the position that if God wanted us to see as much beige as possible he would have created a beige world or given us the eyes of fleas or fruit flies or some other color blind lower creature. Color is a gift from God!

Mother, I tweaked your Blog...
I will have the counter fixed this evening.
You know... I could sure use a care package.... maybe some pink cookies or those cherry ones with the mooshmello. Yummy....
Love you
Embot

Hi Ho...Hi Ho....
it's off to work I go. Last few days to add to the December 15 paycheck, so I'd best be ready to perform. Dad will have to do the school stuff this morning. At the rate Eddie is reading, he may be on a volume of the Brittanica by the time I return!
I'll do the St. Nicholas lesson. I love doing the saint lessons. We'll pull out the historical atlas and look for Myra. (And I'll do my best not to interject that the most I know about Myra is that it was the name of Jerry Lee Lewis' 13 year-old wife.......my mind wanders and I must constantly be on guard against sharing every little bit of info that sails through!!!)

If you aren’t familiar.........
with the details of Now vs. Scheidler currently being argued before the U.S. Supreme Court, Rod Dreher’s NRO article can get you caught up. (It’s also a reminder of why these must be trying times for those who hold dual memberships in NOW and PETA.)
Please try to keep this in your prayer intentions........

The best idea I could come up with for the Planned Parenthood poster contest was a stark, minimalist white page with a tiny caption along the lines of I’d like to enter this contest, but I don’t exist......
Victor Lams has some better examples (and they are more politically correct than Planned Parenthood would ever care to admit!) My favorite is Margaret Sanger with a bloody mustache.....

Trying to stay awake........
I have been in the habit of going to bed relatively early and tonight I must stay alert and be ready to assist St. Nicholas with the filling of the stockings. Just as on Oscar Night, the mere fact that I must not sleep makes me all the drowsier. If I were on top of things, Emily’s stocking would be in the mail and well on its way to her. When I was in college, my parents sent my stocking to me every December and I enjoyed helping my parents prepare my sister’s stocking while she was in Vermont at law school. I’ve carried on this tradition every year since.........now also adding little surprises for my neice and nephew. Tonight I had to call Karen and tell her I really dropped the ball this year. Besides the usual gold coins and candy canes, all I have is a CD and an ornament. She graciously said a small box would be fine, since they are living in a tiny townhouse while building their new home and don’t have room for much stuff. The CD should come in handy - she discovered all her Christmas CD’s, videos and a lot of decorations are trapped in a containerized storage unit. Even the stockings. I could hear the kids in the background, decorating tube socks with fabric paint.

Em’s stocking will be whisked away in the morning to prevent pilferage. She is still smarting over last year’s misfortune. Some devious siblings (and not the youngest) gradually helped themselves to all of her candy, leaving her with a stocking of 4 oranges and a laminated guide to growing roses. Very sad. Maybe the saddest St. Nick tale I know of.......with the exception of the year I stole Karen’s marshmallow Santa and lost it to our dachsund while playing keep away. Cleo, the dog, was no worse for the minimal amount of chocolate consumed, but the memory lingers on........It will certainly be recounted in both of our households tomorrow, as we eat chocolate fortified breakfasts.

December 5!!!!
The use of Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas and other popular characters as a means of extorting good behavior from children is abhorent to me. (Santa, in my estimation, is a tangible and understable to the young mind, manifestation of unconditional love.)

That being said, I am leaving for my Bible Study group this morning witht the warning that if the junk isn't cleared off the hearth, St. Nick just won't be able to make it tonight. Nothing personal - I'll just bar the door, not wanting to assume any liability for injuries he might sustain. I want the Troll Trunk removed - it's in the way of having a fire in the fireplace, anyway - the miscellaneous computer cords assigned to some proper home, and all the other books and junk filed somewhere.

This year I may be able to put the wooden shoes on the hearth just for decoration. We found these in the attic of my late uncle's house. My best guess is that they were some sort of shoe related gift to my aunt, who spent over 50 years in the children's shoe business.

These shoes have been problematic the past couple of years. They fit Eddie and he would leave the house and walk up and down the street in them. As if we didn't look weird enough. Last year, they were a tight fit and he needed help to take them off. My wish for this year is that he can't cram his feet into them and we can display them for fun.

Geek Syndrome...
Having one child close to a diagnosis of Asperger’s (We stopped pushing the neuropsychologist and his team for experts for any further diagnoses......It was just our personal decision not to have one more thing written down as a formal diagnosis. This was not some sort of shame thing, heck, we already had found Tourette’s, which is usually good for a scatological laugh on TV and in the movies. We had reached a point of not wanting to see our boy as a list of Syndromes) Now I find out it has become one of the ‘fashionable’ ailments. I remember reading a Time magazine article some years ago in which Bill Gates was analyzed and fit the criteria for an autism diagnosis.

Autism, in its many guises, is an overwhelmingly male affliction, characterised by an abnormality in social development and communication skills and, usually, an obsessional interest in all sorts of weird, mechanistic stuff, from an early age (usually between three and five years). The current thesis among those studying autism holds that the condition is simply an extreme example of male behaviour.

(Engineering, actually, is a good case in point. Asperger’s Syndrome is sometimes called ‘the engineer’s disorder’; the child suffering from Asperger’s is almost always obsessed by the design and mechanism of some kind of machine or other. It is virtually a precondition of the affliction.)

Oh, let’s not quit while we’re on a roll...........my spousal unit fits a lot of the criteria, too. I’m learning to deal with it. Though it is a trial at times to be with a roomful of men who like to rock back and forth while they talk, think, and compute.....

British Museum On-Line Advent Calendar
I found this while cleaning up some files. It says 2001, but when I went to the British Museum site I couldn't find one for 2002, so maybe they just do the same one every year. Worthwhile and fun.......especially for those of us for whom a visit to the British Museum is still in the daydreaming stage.

Gee, thanks Em!
Yes, I am insane. If fiddling with the sitemeter things hadn't already pushed me over the edge, that did it.

I got rid of the site meter after it pooped out after 6 hours yesterday. It's not so much a matter of seeing how many people are reading this......I just want the comfort that I'm not totally talking to myself.
(I get that feeling around home sometimes.......like that guy in a movie-of-the-week who was dead but didn't know it. Not as deep as the Sixth Sense, but it made an impression on me. Em knows........she's heard me exclaim, "Am I still alive. I'm talking, but no one is hearing me?")

Here's another one for you mom...
Here is a link which should really test you. Are you Insane?

- Embot

Praise the Lord and Cancel the Peanut Bus
The past several weeks have been quite difficult, schoolwise. Chuck is plugging along admirably, but Eddie has been having a lot of trouble. It has been painful to watch him work up a sweat while struggling with a reader that is actually below his grade level. Working in his phonics work book has been equally dreadful - his face turns red, he grips the pencils so hard they break and just about starts foaming at the mouth all in the course of 4 or 5 exercises. (Yes, 4 or 5 individual questions, not 4 or 5 pages!)

The past day or two have found him making hissing and growling noises when he sees the reader coming out of the cubby. I can see the same pattern of frustration that made school hell for Chuck. Chuck was not the type to vent this frustration at school. He would just come home and go into a rage, perhaps even clobbering a sibling on the way home from the bus stop. There have been moments when I have made comments to Dad about looking into having him studied to find the cause of the problem. (Not that the school and the Reading Recovery Program or the neuro-psych people at Children’s were able to find a magic solution for Chuck.....but I was feeling desperate.) Just to vent my frustrations, I would whisper the term ‘peanut bus’ under my breath. When I was in grade school, the special and remedial students came to school in a smaller bus which we referred to as a peanut bus. My only personal experience with a peanut bus was when the tennis team took one to the State Tournament. So Rick knew what I meant when I would ask, “Is it time for the peanut bus?”

I decided to keep at it with Eddie, but not allow things to get into the area of unpleasant confrontations that have led to readers and workbooks hidden under massive pieces of furniture, feigned illness (for a homeschooler!?!) etc. This morning we plunked down on the couch and I told Eddie just two pages in the reader and then we could move on to the subject of his choice. He read them beautifully and when I remarked that with such good work he would probably finish this reader by Christmas, he asked to keep going. He finished the whole book by noon. After lunch he went to the bookshelf and plucked the next book in the series and began reading from it. The rest of our plans for the day were cancelled as I sat and listened as he read and read and read. When it was time to make a trip to the grocery, Eddie tagged along. Toting the reader. He read on the five minute drive to the store. And as much as possible in the fading light on the ride back. He read while dinner cooked. As soon as we finished the celebratory little Christmas Tree cakes that I let Eddie pick out to mark his day’s accomplishment, he picked up the book and started reading. He is now over half way through the new reader. No grimacing. Little sweat. He enjoys it. I am overjoyed.