And the prize goes to....
Carson, Pirie, Scott and Co. for the first Christmas sale TV advertisement.
(Yeah, I know Wal-Mart and Target have had Christmas stuff out for quite a while, but seeing Christmas on TV while we're still hustling up Halloween costumes is just too.....too.)
Friday, October 31, 2003
Trick-or-Treat
It’s that time again already. Remember kids, let Mom check out your bucket of candy before you eat anything. All chocolates with suspicious names like Dove, Godiva or Ghiradelli should be saved for Mom (and only Mom) to scrutinize. Mom will also be ready to shake you down for any Mounds or Almond Joys, which will make a semi-nutritious supplement to get her through the mornings at school. Sorry, no caramels or Starbursts, please. (We can’t afford any more loosened fillings.)
So much for theme costumes. We’ve done the Saints in other years. (Even that can go badly. Bridget was Joan of Arc for our CCD party and managed to get into a bit of a scrape with the one boy in the class who definitely should not have come dressed as St. George, complete with sword.) I suggested Greek gods this year, to go along with our study of ancient Greece. Not too many takers. Eddie is going as Hades and is OK with my failure to rig up a three-headed dog to accompany him. Hey guys, I’ll be Hestia, goddess of the hearth - i.e. I’ll stay home and answer the door.
Chuck is sticking with his plan to dress as a doctor, which allows him to walk around in the scrubs that he sleeps in, accented with the stethoscope from our science unit and a pair of rubber gloves. Martha’s attempt at Pippi Longstocking didn’t work out, so she went to school in some sort of Goth get-up that looked a lot like the daily wardrobe of some of her peers.
Oh, well. This is my 26th Halloween as a Mom and I can no longer become too emotionally invested in the costuming of my children. No more staying up all night making butterfly wings!
Tensions were running quite high at school yesterday as the children prepared for their costume parade and classroom parties. Luckily, this all took place after my sign-out time. The kids were so hypered up in the morning, I don’t think I could have stood any more. When I left, the costumed room mothers - I sure hope those were costumes - were preparing to help the pampered young kids into ornate costumes and then jazz them up with extra fancy sugared confections.
Not my favorite holiday....
It’s that time again already. Remember kids, let Mom check out your bucket of candy before you eat anything. All chocolates with suspicious names like Dove, Godiva or Ghiradelli should be saved for Mom (and only Mom) to scrutinize. Mom will also be ready to shake you down for any Mounds or Almond Joys, which will make a semi-nutritious supplement to get her through the mornings at school. Sorry, no caramels or Starbursts, please. (We can’t afford any more loosened fillings.)
So much for theme costumes. We’ve done the Saints in other years. (Even that can go badly. Bridget was Joan of Arc for our CCD party and managed to get into a bit of a scrape with the one boy in the class who definitely should not have come dressed as St. George, complete with sword.) I suggested Greek gods this year, to go along with our study of ancient Greece. Not too many takers. Eddie is going as Hades and is OK with my failure to rig up a three-headed dog to accompany him. Hey guys, I’ll be Hestia, goddess of the hearth - i.e. I’ll stay home and answer the door.
Chuck is sticking with his plan to dress as a doctor, which allows him to walk around in the scrubs that he sleeps in, accented with the stethoscope from our science unit and a pair of rubber gloves. Martha’s attempt at Pippi Longstocking didn’t work out, so she went to school in some sort of Goth get-up that looked a lot like the daily wardrobe of some of her peers.
Oh, well. This is my 26th Halloween as a Mom and I can no longer become too emotionally invested in the costuming of my children. No more staying up all night making butterfly wings!
Tensions were running quite high at school yesterday as the children prepared for their costume parade and classroom parties. Luckily, this all took place after my sign-out time. The kids were so hypered up in the morning, I don’t think I could have stood any more. When I left, the costumed room mothers - I sure hope those were costumes - were preparing to help the pampered young kids into ornate costumes and then jazz them up with extra fancy sugared confections.
Not my favorite holiday....
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Sparki writes about All Soul’s Day activities and a charming story about her late grandmother.
This gets me to thinking. It would be easy to pack up the kids and go to the cemetery in Lake Forest to visit the graves of paternal relatives. But I am tempted to find my Chicago grandparents. (Although my paternal grandfather may have died and been buried in Milwaukee. I’m a little unclear on the details.) My father’s mother died in 1932, when he was just seven. She is buried in either Rosehill or Graceland cemeteries. I wonder if I can find out a location by Sunday.
When we were in Milwaukee to visit the Public Museum, I had hoped to detour out to Wisconsin Memorial Park to visit my late mother’s family. But things were starting to deteriorate and we cut short the trip, likewise deciding not to get together for ice cream with an old friend and her boys. At a certain point it became obvious that three kids (and Martha and Chuck are not exactly kid-sized) in the back of an Amigo was becoming a ticket to mayhem.
Oh, I think I forgot to mention that I won a free membership in the Milwaukee Public Museum. Just for filling out a little ticket while killing time waiting for Rick and the boys to visit Mrs. Murphy.
This gets me to thinking. It would be easy to pack up the kids and go to the cemetery in Lake Forest to visit the graves of paternal relatives. But I am tempted to find my Chicago grandparents. (Although my paternal grandfather may have died and been buried in Milwaukee. I’m a little unclear on the details.) My father’s mother died in 1932, when he was just seven. She is buried in either Rosehill or Graceland cemeteries. I wonder if I can find out a location by Sunday.
When we were in Milwaukee to visit the Public Museum, I had hoped to detour out to Wisconsin Memorial Park to visit my late mother’s family. But things were starting to deteriorate and we cut short the trip, likewise deciding not to get together for ice cream with an old friend and her boys. At a certain point it became obvious that three kids (and Martha and Chuck are not exactly kid-sized) in the back of an Amigo was becoming a ticket to mayhem.
Oh, I think I forgot to mention that I won a free membership in the Milwaukee Public Museum. Just for filling out a little ticket while killing time waiting for Rick and the boys to visit Mrs. Murphy.
Read Fr. Bryce Sibley on: Being charitable is not being "nice."
Sometimes charity is as soothing as a mother’s kiss. Other times it is as painful and necessary as a root canal. The most basic example I use with my children is when we walk in public with toilet paper stuck to our shoe. It is dangerous, embarrassing and in need of attention. When I see someone dragging a yard of toilet paper I know that the initial knowledge will most likely not be well received. But is it more charitable to look at them as though everything is OK and let the unpleasant act of charity fall to someone with more courage?
Sometimes charity is as soothing as a mother’s kiss. Other times it is as painful and necessary as a root canal. The most basic example I use with my children is when we walk in public with toilet paper stuck to our shoe. It is dangerous, embarrassing and in need of attention. When I see someone dragging a yard of toilet paper I know that the initial knowledge will most likely not be well received. But is it more charitable to look at them as though everything is OK and let the unpleasant act of charity fall to someone with more courage?
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
"Watching TV without a parent is a junk experience, especially for young children."
And watching with our family is like MST3000.
The TV news (what a coincidence......this was on TV, too!) had repeated clips of children staring at the tube, mouths agape. This was comforting, in that my children did not resemble the TV kids with their intense rapt attention. That ubiquitous tube is more like a radio-with-pictures for us. (I stand by my choice of ‘ubiquitous’ because my spousal unit has managed to find a rummage sale/reject TV for every room in the house, with the exception of the laundry room and bathroom. )
And watching with our family is like MST3000.
The TV news (what a coincidence......this was on TV, too!) had repeated clips of children staring at the tube, mouths agape. This was comforting, in that my children did not resemble the TV kids with their intense rapt attention. That ubiquitous tube is more like a radio-with-pictures for us. (I stand by my choice of ‘ubiquitous’ because my spousal unit has managed to find a rummage sale/reject TV for every room in the house, with the exception of the laundry room and bathroom. )
Monday, October 27, 2003
And I live with three sets of Thing 1 and Thing 2!
Which Dr. Seuss character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
link via Summa Mamas.
Which Dr. Seuss character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
link via Summa Mamas.
"They were very jumpy and convinced there was something explosive in the dog."
I can only imagine that this will be big at Christmas.
Ugh.
When I read the word toy in the headline, my first thought was breed of dog. And I wouldn’t quibble with the fact that some pups can be a bit flatulent in their early days. But to buy a mechanical plaything that mimics a puppy with a delicate digestive system......gross.
I can only imagine that this will be big at Christmas.
Ugh.
When I read the word toy in the headline, my first thought was breed of dog. And I wouldn’t quibble with the fact that some pups can be a bit flatulent in their early days. But to buy a mechanical plaything that mimics a puppy with a delicate digestive system......gross.
Applause in Church....
grates on me. Badly. There have been several contentious Sunday trips home when I have been pressing the case that my husband (and a large number of fellow parishioners) are being crass when applauding our organist for an exquisite postude. I do not argue with the fact that the man is a fabulous musician. My argument is that he is playing for the glory of God, not the approbation of his fellow man. And if people want to tell him how marvelous he is, they could always stop in the rectory and leave a nice note in his mailbox.
So....my boys were blown away when I spontaneously joined the applause after a great homily yesterday. (Though not nearly as stunned as if I followed my initial inclination to shout out “Amen,” - which comes only as a thought, since I ws raised as a reticient, up-tight Lutheran who would have been hard pressed to yell “Fire” in church if our lives had depended on it. I would have, of course, mentioned the fire to an usher, who would have had to decide at what point to interrupt the service....)
I am not inferring that my parish suffers from a lack of outstanding homiletics. But yesterday, the priest did not mince words. He did not engage in any circumlocution that left the meaning it to the intuition of the parishioner. For the sake of those who need it articulated in exact language, the homily contained specific words. Words such as death, abortion, euthanasia, Terry Schiavo....
A stern reminder is always in order. I am sure I was not the only person in the congregation whose mind wandered for a moment when Father said, “Consider your end.” There was the brief moment when my mind drifted off in search of a better place to put the NordicTrak so that I could shore up my end.
And I did thank Father after Mass. And not on behalf of my gluteal fitness.
grates on me. Badly. There have been several contentious Sunday trips home when I have been pressing the case that my husband (and a large number of fellow parishioners) are being crass when applauding our organist for an exquisite postude. I do not argue with the fact that the man is a fabulous musician. My argument is that he is playing for the glory of God, not the approbation of his fellow man. And if people want to tell him how marvelous he is, they could always stop in the rectory and leave a nice note in his mailbox.
So....my boys were blown away when I spontaneously joined the applause after a great homily yesterday. (Though not nearly as stunned as if I followed my initial inclination to shout out “Amen,” - which comes only as a thought, since I ws raised as a reticient, up-tight Lutheran who would have been hard pressed to yell “Fire” in church if our lives had depended on it. I would have, of course, mentioned the fire to an usher, who would have had to decide at what point to interrupt the service....)
I am not inferring that my parish suffers from a lack of outstanding homiletics. But yesterday, the priest did not mince words. He did not engage in any circumlocution that left the meaning it to the intuition of the parishioner. For the sake of those who need it articulated in exact language, the homily contained specific words. Words such as death, abortion, euthanasia, Terry Schiavo....
A stern reminder is always in order. I am sure I was not the only person in the congregation whose mind wandered for a moment when Father said, “Consider your end.” There was the brief moment when my mind drifted off in search of a better place to put the NordicTrak so that I could shore up my end.
And I did thank Father after Mass. And not on behalf of my gluteal fitness.
Eureka!
After three years of disappointing experimentation with the cultivation of ornamental kale, I have found the secret to lush, colorful cabbages. Buy them at 50% off at the local garden center.
(I did allow the one remaining stalky, pale kale that survived the summer to stay in the planter, propped between two store-bought beauties....)
After three years of disappointing experimentation with the cultivation of ornamental kale, I have found the secret to lush, colorful cabbages. Buy them at 50% off at the local garden center.
(I did allow the one remaining stalky, pale kale that survived the summer to stay in the planter, propped between two store-bought beauties....)
Circadian Rhythms........Blah!
So much for the extra hour of sleep I got over the week-end. I was up today at 4:45 am instead of 5:45. No sense in trying to force myself back to sleep. Some dogs' bladders were telling them it was time to go out....
The real drawback? I don’t want to be found at work tonight at 8:30 using a phone memo pad as a pillow.
So much for the extra hour of sleep I got over the week-end. I was up today at 4:45 am instead of 5:45. No sense in trying to force myself back to sleep. Some dogs' bladders were telling them it was time to go out....
The real drawback? I don’t want to be found at work tonight at 8:30 using a phone memo pad as a pillow.
Friday, October 24, 2003
Thursday, October 23, 2003
"No one knows what's going on."
Hmmm. People are tired of crap being piped into their homes? Even cutting edge crap gets dull after a while?
Hmmm. People are tired of crap being piped into their homes? Even cutting edge crap gets dull after a while?
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
No Cure for Earworms
Someone should have a telethon, but there had better not be any music. And that includes no ads from McDonald’s, Empire Carpet, Luna Carpet and other commercial purveyors of the most wretched earworms. (To digress, my children joke that Luna is Latin for ‘carpet.’ That’s a successful worm!)
Anybody remember a Mark Twain story about a street car conductor tormented by a little rhyme going through his head - (something like “a buff trip slip for a six cent fair.....”) - called “Punch, Brothers, Punch?” I think it was Mark Twain. Or was it O. Henry? Those earworms have been around a long, long time....
Someone should have a telethon, but there had better not be any music. And that includes no ads from McDonald’s, Empire Carpet, Luna Carpet and other commercial purveyors of the most wretched earworms. (To digress, my children joke that Luna is Latin for ‘carpet.’ That’s a successful worm!)
Anybody remember a Mark Twain story about a street car conductor tormented by a little rhyme going through his head - (something like “a buff trip slip for a six cent fair.....”) - called “Punch, Brothers, Punch?” I think it was Mark Twain. Or was it O. Henry? Those earworms have been around a long, long time....
Sunday, October 19, 2003
Spelling Test:
1. Symposium.
Mom didn’t approve of the symposium being held in the family room.
2. Document .
Get the camera so we can document this scene.
3. Efficacious .
Clear Contact paper is an efficacious protectant against spills and stains on our Ancient Greece folders.
4.Desecrate .
How dare you kids desecrate the school table with your bar supplies.
5. Majority .
Mom doesn’t care if you have reached the age of majority - you’re my kids and are not allowed to use the school table as a bar.
6. Imprudent .
It shouldn’t be imprudent to leave Bridget unattended for two hours while we eat dinner at Grandma’s.
7. Evade .
Do not try to evade the issue by using coy terms like symposium, bacchanal, salon etc.
8. Exasperation .
Exasperation . Exasperation . Exasperation .
1. Symposium.
Mom didn’t approve of the symposium being held in the family room.
2. Document .
Get the camera so we can document this scene.
3. Efficacious .
Clear Contact paper is an efficacious protectant against spills and stains on our Ancient Greece folders.
4.Desecrate .
How dare you kids desecrate the school table with your bar supplies.
5. Majority .
Mom doesn’t care if you have reached the age of majority - you’re my kids and are not allowed to use the school table as a bar.
6. Imprudent .
It shouldn’t be imprudent to leave Bridget unattended for two hours while we eat dinner at Grandma’s.
7. Evade .
Do not try to evade the issue by using coy terms like symposium, bacchanal, salon etc.
8. Exasperation .
Exasperation . Exasperation . Exasperation .
Friday, October 17, 2003
Help your Cub lovin’ child deal with reality.
Mike Royko, the late Tribune columnist, once observed: "I always believed that being a Cubs fan built strong character. It taught a person that if you try hard enough and long enough, you'll still lose. And that's the story of life."
If they’re consulting the child psych unit at Children’s Memorial it must be serious.
Mike Royko, the late Tribune columnist, once observed: "I always believed that being a Cubs fan built strong character. It taught a person that if you try hard enough and long enough, you'll still lose. And that's the story of life."
If they’re consulting the child psych unit at Children’s Memorial it must be serious.
Too Rich, Too Thin, Too Evil?
A woman is left to starve to death because her husband no longer cares.
The courts will not answer the pleas of her distraught family.
And the media blathers on.....
will Jen and Ben get back together?
is Lara Flynn Boyle the dividing line between fashionable and too anorexic?
and what’s next for Kobe?
The only TV discussion about Terry Schiavo that I have heard in the past 24 hours broached the atrocious solution: “If we were like the Netherlands, then she wouldn’t have to suffer.”
I do not disagree with Athanasius when he says, “What a terrible, evil country we live in.”
A woman is left to starve to death because her husband no longer cares.
The courts will not answer the pleas of her distraught family.
And the media blathers on.....
will Jen and Ben get back together?
is Lara Flynn Boyle the dividing line between fashionable and too anorexic?
and what’s next for Kobe?
The only TV discussion about Terry Schiavo that I have heard in the past 24 hours broached the atrocious solution: “If we were like the Netherlands, then she wouldn’t have to suffer.”
I do not disagree with Athanasius when he says, “What a terrible, evil country we live in.”
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
I had wanted to see this. Guess we were to busy educating and keeping a lid on the squalor.
But that’s OK. It’s a busy week and I can’t afford to take time off for apoplexy. (Doh.... I used my apoplexy time on the Cubs last night...)
Hearing the following would have done me in. "In part two of Vince Gonzales' report: how children nationwide have been put in danger, even killed, while home schooling." The public schools have death and danger (physical and moral) beat. You don’t need math credentials to figure that one out.
But that’s OK. It’s a busy week and I can’t afford to take time off for apoplexy. (Doh.... I used my apoplexy time on the Cubs last night...)
Hearing the following would have done me in. "In part two of Vince Gonzales' report: how children nationwide have been put in danger, even killed, while home schooling." The public schools have death and danger (physical and moral) beat. You don’t need math credentials to figure that one out.
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
Monday, October 13, 2003
It’s Field Trip Day!
Let’s hope the rest of the gang is as excited as I am. The Milwaukee Public Museum has always been my sentimental favorite. And it is a fabulous museum.
The younger children haven’t been there, so I am tickled to share my favorite exhibits. My testimonial that when I was a child, the MPM was as good as Disneyland to me was greeted with looks that categorized me with Rod and Todd Flanders emoting about “Imaginary Christmas.” But really....a cutting edge museum is a superb amusement park for children with vivid imaginations.
I’ve given up on the Smockmama concept of having the children dressed in ‘uniform’ for our forays into the world. This is based on the legendary (in von Huben circles) experience of the big family field trip to the Lincoln Park Zoo. The GAP had an extraordinary deal on bright orange T-shirts, in all sizes, XXL down to 24 mo. baby. So I snapped up shirts for everyone, figuring that orange would be lively and visible and just so excellent for our group cohesiveness. The children felt differently, linking orange shirts with criminals and road side garbage clean-up crews. I thought we looked precious, right down to 24 mo. size baby Eddie in his stroller.
Emily and RIck went along with it to be good sports.
Fran and Bridget spent the whole trip alternating between complaining about the shirts and begging to rent a paddle boat. At one point I found that Fran had switched into the sweatshirt she had tied around her waist and was trying to dispose of the orange T in the monkey house. Nice try. So I made her put the T-shirt back on and I confiscated the sweatshirt.
Martha and Chuck didn’t care too much.
Eddie was 8 months old and totally under my fashion influence.
Martha claims she still has bad memories of being menaced by a peacock. So I tried to change the subject by reminding her that Flannery O’Connor was quite enamored of peacocks. Martha redirects conversation by proclaiming the Flannery O’Connor’s mother never dressed her like a convict to wander about the Lincoln Park Zoo. So there.
Today should be good. Just good, educational fun.
No uniforms.
No live peacocks.
Also no swearing and no smoking. Please.
(Yes, I’m still dealing with the disgrace of standing on the steps of the Museum of Science and Industry with flocks of smockmamas and their quiet uniformed progeny. I simply ask one of my group, “Where is Bridget?” The answer, “She’s over there - she needed a cigarette.”
ARGH.
I know she smokes.
I don’t approve.
She was old enough.
But to have my maternal failure proclaimed in front of my peers...another lesson in humility.
Let’s hope the rest of the gang is as excited as I am. The Milwaukee Public Museum has always been my sentimental favorite. And it is a fabulous museum.
The younger children haven’t been there, so I am tickled to share my favorite exhibits. My testimonial that when I was a child, the MPM was as good as Disneyland to me was greeted with looks that categorized me with Rod and Todd Flanders emoting about “Imaginary Christmas.” But really....a cutting edge museum is a superb amusement park for children with vivid imaginations.
I’ve given up on the Smockmama concept of having the children dressed in ‘uniform’ for our forays into the world. This is based on the legendary (in von Huben circles) experience of the big family field trip to the Lincoln Park Zoo. The GAP had an extraordinary deal on bright orange T-shirts, in all sizes, XXL down to 24 mo. baby. So I snapped up shirts for everyone, figuring that orange would be lively and visible and just so excellent for our group cohesiveness. The children felt differently, linking orange shirts with criminals and road side garbage clean-up crews. I thought we looked precious, right down to 24 mo. size baby Eddie in his stroller.
Emily and RIck went along with it to be good sports.
Fran and Bridget spent the whole trip alternating between complaining about the shirts and begging to rent a paddle boat. At one point I found that Fran had switched into the sweatshirt she had tied around her waist and was trying to dispose of the orange T in the monkey house. Nice try. So I made her put the T-shirt back on and I confiscated the sweatshirt.
Martha and Chuck didn’t care too much.
Eddie was 8 months old and totally under my fashion influence.
Martha claims she still has bad memories of being menaced by a peacock. So I tried to change the subject by reminding her that Flannery O’Connor was quite enamored of peacocks. Martha redirects conversation by proclaiming the Flannery O’Connor’s mother never dressed her like a convict to wander about the Lincoln Park Zoo. So there.
Today should be good. Just good, educational fun.
No uniforms.
No live peacocks.
Also no swearing and no smoking. Please.
(Yes, I’m still dealing with the disgrace of standing on the steps of the Museum of Science and Industry with flocks of smockmamas and their quiet uniformed progeny. I simply ask one of my group, “Where is Bridget?” The answer, “She’s over there - she needed a cigarette.”
ARGH.
I know she smokes.
I don’t approve.
She was old enough.
But to have my maternal failure proclaimed in front of my peers...another lesson in humility.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
The Dress was In the Mail
The big ‘surprise’ yesterday was the muslin mock-up of Martha’s bridesmaid dress for my sister’s December wedding. Now we must work quick like bunnies to find a dressmaker or some other competent soul (i.e. my mother-in-law) to pin the dress where it should be altered and then get it back in the mail to my sister. It must be rushed to the dressmaker’s to be finished before she leaves for Florida for the winter on November 1.
To take the sting out of the package, Karen included an autograph from Big Al Carson, which I shall frame and hang in my kitchen. And a beautiful, though menacing looking rosary ring that my sister bought me at the Cathedral gift shop while on her trip to New Orleans. (“Three more and you have a weapon!”)
And Big Al is the master of the blues? I think I could write a song write now. Just thinking about fiddling with that @&#^$ dress. Oh, and Martha decided she’ll need new shoes. Even though Auntie has given her a dispensation to wear any shoes that she pleases, there just aren’t any in her closet.
The big ‘surprise’ yesterday was the muslin mock-up of Martha’s bridesmaid dress for my sister’s December wedding. Now we must work quick like bunnies to find a dressmaker or some other competent soul (i.e. my mother-in-law) to pin the dress where it should be altered and then get it back in the mail to my sister. It must be rushed to the dressmaker’s to be finished before she leaves for Florida for the winter on November 1.
To take the sting out of the package, Karen included an autograph from Big Al Carson, which I shall frame and hang in my kitchen. And a beautiful, though menacing looking rosary ring that my sister bought me at the Cathedral gift shop while on her trip to New Orleans. (“Three more and you have a weapon!”)
And Big Al is the master of the blues? I think I could write a song write now. Just thinking about fiddling with that @&#^$ dress. Oh, and Martha decided she’ll need new shoes. Even though Auntie has given her a dispensation to wear any shoes that she pleases, there just aren’t any in her closet.
Whatever happened to Miss Moneypenny?
Bunny Insatia. That’s my Bond Girl Name (Plugging my maiden name into the generator. My whole married name came out, well, a little too raw….)
Link via Summa Mamas.
Note to Embot: If you are reading this on Sat. morning, please don’t pick up the phone and call the rectory and ask to speak to Bunny. I don’t start work until noon. In the AM, it’s Mass, post office [and yes, I’ll be mailing your sweater. As soon as I find it. It’s gone missing again. It’s been a wacky week around here.] and then Rel. Ed. That’s what Bond girl Bunny will be doing before noon.
Bunny Insatia. That’s my Bond Girl Name (Plugging my maiden name into the generator. My whole married name came out, well, a little too raw….)
Link via Summa Mamas.
Note to Embot: If you are reading this on Sat. morning, please don’t pick up the phone and call the rectory and ask to speak to Bunny. I don’t start work until noon. In the AM, it’s Mass, post office [and yes, I’ll be mailing your sweater. As soon as I find it. It’s gone missing again. It’s been a wacky week around here.] and then Rel. Ed. That’s what Bond girl Bunny will be doing before noon.
Friday, October 10, 2003
I know he’s not all about the fun and fabulous prizes, but I’m bummed that the Holy Father didn’t win.
Cutting Edge. Yes!
When I was a seventh grader, during the famous ‘Summer of Love,’ the Smith family headed west for their first visit to California. While in San Francisco I was searching for a souvenir of slightly more meaning than the inflatable pillow that I had purchased in Haight-Ashbury. (I should have been taking all of this ‘culture’ in, but to a prissy 12 year-old from suburban Milwaukee it just looked like a lot of unclean, disorganized people.) At one point we went into a big bookstore and my mother told the clerk that I wanted a special book. Something different. Something I would treasure as a souvenir of this trip. The clerk showed me a book that was going to be the next big best-seller. Really big. Everybody would be reading it. I didn’t take it. True Grit. A cowboy/cowgirl book? I don’t remember what I did buy. But I remember True Grit. I wound buying it at a bookstore at home. It was one of those books that all of my friends bought and then we would sit around eating pretzels, drinking Kool-AId and reading together. (Not aloud - just simultaneously.) By the way, my children think this is sooo weird......we had a good time, but I guess I can’t force my idea of fun on the kids.
So anyway, thirty-plus years later, I remember True Grit and my opportunity to be on the cutting edge. Ahead of the pack. That moment has returned.
I opened the new (well, at least for me - do they deliver to subscribers in alphabetical order?) First Things. Page 63 of the August/September issue, Fr. Neuhaus writes, “Get The Spirit of Early Christian Thought and read it. Read it slowly, letting [Robert Louis] Wilken take you by the hand to enter into conversation with Augustine, Cyprian, Irenaeus, Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus the Confessor, and others; all of whom got The Christian Thing right.”
I already have it. I’m half way through it. Fr Neuhaus isn’t kidding. This is a great book. And I’m ahead of the curve. (Here I must admit that it was given to me by my spiritual director - I didn’t just pick it up at the check-out rack at Wal-Mart. So I’m not taking credit for discovering Wilken’s book. Just acknowledging the fact that I didn’t toss it back at him a la True Grit.)
This certainly makes up for all the popular books I haven’t read....Bridget Jones’ Diary, The Bridges of Madison County, The Da Vinci Code, The South Beach Diet......
When I was a seventh grader, during the famous ‘Summer of Love,’ the Smith family headed west for their first visit to California. While in San Francisco I was searching for a souvenir of slightly more meaning than the inflatable pillow that I had purchased in Haight-Ashbury. (I should have been taking all of this ‘culture’ in, but to a prissy 12 year-old from suburban Milwaukee it just looked like a lot of unclean, disorganized people.) At one point we went into a big bookstore and my mother told the clerk that I wanted a special book. Something different. Something I would treasure as a souvenir of this trip. The clerk showed me a book that was going to be the next big best-seller. Really big. Everybody would be reading it. I didn’t take it. True Grit. A cowboy/cowgirl book? I don’t remember what I did buy. But I remember True Grit. I wound buying it at a bookstore at home. It was one of those books that all of my friends bought and then we would sit around eating pretzels, drinking Kool-AId and reading together. (Not aloud - just simultaneously.) By the way, my children think this is sooo weird......we had a good time, but I guess I can’t force my idea of fun on the kids.
So anyway, thirty-plus years later, I remember True Grit and my opportunity to be on the cutting edge. Ahead of the pack. That moment has returned.
I opened the new (well, at least for me - do they deliver to subscribers in alphabetical order?) First Things. Page 63 of the August/September issue, Fr. Neuhaus writes, “Get The Spirit of Early Christian Thought and read it. Read it slowly, letting [Robert Louis] Wilken take you by the hand to enter into conversation with Augustine, Cyprian, Irenaeus, Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus the Confessor, and others; all of whom got The Christian Thing right.”
I already have it. I’m half way through it. Fr Neuhaus isn’t kidding. This is a great book. And I’m ahead of the curve. (Here I must admit that it was given to me by my spiritual director - I didn’t just pick it up at the check-out rack at Wal-Mart. So I’m not taking credit for discovering Wilken’s book. Just acknowledging the fact that I didn’t toss it back at him a la True Grit.)
This certainly makes up for all the popular books I haven’t read....Bridget Jones’ Diary, The Bridges of Madison County, The Da Vinci Code, The South Beach Diet......
Thursday, October 09, 2003
Drat
For one brief moment, I thought I had received the new issue of First Things. What arrived on Monday is posted on their website as the previous issue. Not that it matters that much. I’m a bit behind in everything anyway. But for one brief shining moment I thought I might be ahead of a popular trend...more about that later. Time to run.... (A clue - I still haven’t read The Da Vinci Code. Or The Bridges of Madison County. )
For one brief moment, I thought I had received the new issue of First Things. What arrived on Monday is posted on their website as the previous issue. Not that it matters that much. I’m a bit behind in everything anyway. But for one brief shining moment I thought I might be ahead of a popular trend...more about that later. Time to run.... (A clue - I still haven’t read The Da Vinci Code. Or The Bridges of Madison County. )
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
Don't cook me and I'll be fine....
Just shred me...and toss in a few other vegies for contrast!
Link via Michelle, of course.
Just shred me...and toss in a few other vegies for contrast!
Link via Michelle, of course.
About Arnold....
I wish him well. Can’t say that I agree with him about everything. In many ways he strikes me as a Democrat in Republican clothing.
...and the gropees.
I do not wish to diminish the discomfort of any woman who feels she has been hurt or violated by inappropriate touching. But I also think that such incidents should be addressed as quickly and basically as possible. (Naturally, I make exceptions for frightened children or women who feel their safety is in danger.) I was explaining to my daughters that I was ‘groped’ once....in a crowded bar on St. Patrick’s Day. (Not this year....sometime in the last century) I stopped walking, reached behind me and grabbed the hand of the ‘groper,’ held it up and giving it a mild swat, said, “Shame on you.” I don’t know how ashamed he was, but I know that I remember the incident but don’t carry it around in my heart as a moment of guilt and humiliation. Maybe I was supposed to ask his name and tell him, “II’ll be back to haunt you if you ever run for public office.”
I wish him well. Can’t say that I agree with him about everything. In many ways he strikes me as a Democrat in Republican clothing.
...and the gropees.
I do not wish to diminish the discomfort of any woman who feels she has been hurt or violated by inappropriate touching. But I also think that such incidents should be addressed as quickly and basically as possible. (Naturally, I make exceptions for frightened children or women who feel their safety is in danger.) I was explaining to my daughters that I was ‘groped’ once....in a crowded bar on St. Patrick’s Day. (Not this year....sometime in the last century) I stopped walking, reached behind me and grabbed the hand of the ‘groper,’ held it up and giving it a mild swat, said, “Shame on you.” I don’t know how ashamed he was, but I know that I remember the incident but don’t carry it around in my heart as a moment of guilt and humiliation. Maybe I was supposed to ask his name and tell him, “II’ll be back to haunt you if you ever run for public office.”
VHI Video Review
“Hey Ya” by OutKast
I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. But I’m fascinated by the use of green coupled with 1960’s black and white TV and an effete British emcee. And what’s with the green coffin and those guys (in green, of course) dressed like jockies?
I don’t get it. But whenever it comes on, I stop what I’m what I’m doing and stare at it in rapt fascination.
“Hey Ya” by OutKast
I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. But I’m fascinated by the use of green coupled with 1960’s black and white TV and an effete British emcee. And what’s with the green coffin and those guys (in green, of course) dressed like jockies?
I don’t get it. But whenever it comes on, I stop what I’m what I’m doing and stare at it in rapt fascination.
Monday, October 06, 2003
Monday? Again?
Another week-end of thrills, surprises and truncated naps.
Rick and the kids brought the dogs up to Church for their blessing on Saturday morning. Eddie and Rick stopped at the Rectory to say “hi,” having the good sense not to bring those nutty pups into the office. Chuck wanted to bring the gerbil also, but pater nixed that, figuring that managing three dogs would be enough of a circus. Chuck has attributed the little rodent’s extremely extended life span to regular blessings...so this was a good opportunity to remind him that this is a blessing, not a superstitious practice.
Home Depot brought the new fridge after 1:00 and I managed to be away for most of that ordeal. Rick and his dad ripped up the old linoleum and the plywood underneath....only to reveal another layer of puke yellow two-tone textured linoleum that is so ‘70’s that we should donate a chunk to the Smithsonian. Fortunately, for my delicate sensibilities, the old floor is not in good condition - including holes from the application of the top layer of plywood - and will be covered up some time this week. The new fridge is fabulous. Nothing fancy....but it works!!! And the boys are getting a suitable amount of fun out of the box.
With the exception of the rotting garbage on the curb, due to the garbage haulers strike, the whole week-end had a strange PAX TV aura to it. (Sorry, dear neighbors, but that garbage is not going back into the garage - it contains the rotting food from the old refrigerator.) Plot: stressed out family gets to help people and learns to count its blessings.
1)I met two women in the parking lot on my way out of work. They were looking for a place to buy a rosary in a hurry. They were from Texas for the older woman’s grandson’s graduation at Great Lakes. We don’t have a gift shop, but since they didn’t have time to motor out to Marytown, I hooked them up.
2)I found a purse in a cart at Dominick’s on my way home from Church.
3)An old man came to our door, asking for directions and then sort of collapsed. He was confused and exhausted. Rick was able to figure out that the man had wandered off from the nursing home several blocks away and returned him. I'm glad Rick did this, because he is more diplomatic than I am in this sort of situation. I would have taken the man in and then started a vociferous complaint about how the employees had 'dropped the ball.'
Another week-end of thrills, surprises and truncated naps.
Rick and the kids brought the dogs up to Church for their blessing on Saturday morning. Eddie and Rick stopped at the Rectory to say “hi,” having the good sense not to bring those nutty pups into the office. Chuck wanted to bring the gerbil also, but pater nixed that, figuring that managing three dogs would be enough of a circus. Chuck has attributed the little rodent’s extremely extended life span to regular blessings...so this was a good opportunity to remind him that this is a blessing, not a superstitious practice.
Home Depot brought the new fridge after 1:00 and I managed to be away for most of that ordeal. Rick and his dad ripped up the old linoleum and the plywood underneath....only to reveal another layer of puke yellow two-tone textured linoleum that is so ‘70’s that we should donate a chunk to the Smithsonian. Fortunately, for my delicate sensibilities, the old floor is not in good condition - including holes from the application of the top layer of plywood - and will be covered up some time this week. The new fridge is fabulous. Nothing fancy....but it works!!! And the boys are getting a suitable amount of fun out of the box.
With the exception of the rotting garbage on the curb, due to the garbage haulers strike, the whole week-end had a strange PAX TV aura to it. (Sorry, dear neighbors, but that garbage is not going back into the garage - it contains the rotting food from the old refrigerator.) Plot: stressed out family gets to help people and learns to count its blessings.
1)I met two women in the parking lot on my way out of work. They were looking for a place to buy a rosary in a hurry. They were from Texas for the older woman’s grandson’s graduation at Great Lakes. We don’t have a gift shop, but since they didn’t have time to motor out to Marytown, I hooked them up.
2)I found a purse in a cart at Dominick’s on my way home from Church.
3)An old man came to our door, asking for directions and then sort of collapsed. He was confused and exhausted. Rick was able to figure out that the man had wandered off from the nursing home several blocks away and returned him. I'm glad Rick did this, because he is more diplomatic than I am in this sort of situation. I would have taken the man in and then started a vociferous complaint about how the employees had 'dropped the ball.'
Sunday, October 05, 2003
But I still want to be a Smockmomma.
Somedays.
Check out Summa Mamas if you haven’t already. I really must add them to my blogroll. Along with a few others. Unfortunately, I’m always waiting to have the real house in order before tidying up the blog.
Somedays.
Check out Summa Mamas if you haven’t already. I really must add them to my blogroll. Along with a few others. Unfortunately, I’m always waiting to have the real house in order before tidying up the blog.
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Pansy liked School of Rock. I have been reluctant to admit to my family that I wouldn’t mind seeing it. They know that Jack Black drives me to distraction - and I don’t mean this as a compliment.
Martha and I had a scathingly brilliant idea while driving to school yesterday. Roger Ebert was complaining the Joseph Fiennes’ performance in Luther was excessively low-key. He brought nofire, no pizzazz to the role of a religious revolutionary. (I really don’t think I want to see Luther. To me it looks like a boring flash back to those interminable Thursday night Reformation Era Thinkers classes. Only with popcorn and Cherry Coke.) So....would it have been more engaging if someone like, let’s say, Jack Black, played Luther. Just an idea...
Martha and I had a scathingly brilliant idea while driving to school yesterday. Roger Ebert was complaining the Joseph Fiennes’ performance in Luther was excessively low-key. He brought nofire, no pizzazz to the role of a religious revolutionary. (I really don’t think I want to see Luther. To me it looks like a boring flash back to those interminable Thursday night Reformation Era Thinkers classes. Only with popcorn and Cherry Coke.) So....would it have been more engaging if someone like, let’s say, Jack Black, played Luther. Just an idea...
Banned Book!
Rabbit Hill, one of my childhood favorites, will not be part of the St. Francis lesson plan this year. The boys are still traumatized from my decision, about two years ago, to read them the last chapter. When I got to that part with the statue of St. Francis and the mole who asks the rabbit(?) to ‘be his eyes’ and the rabbit(?) tells him about the good Saint and how there is plenty for all......well, I found myself with tears running down my cheeks. I don’t know if I was touched by the story all over again or suffering from a burst of nostalgia. Whatever it was, it scared the boys. I am not particularly sentimental nor lachrymose. At some point they stopped paying attention to the story and started wondering what was wrong with this whole thing that it made Mom cry. (Especially since I introduced it as a ‘cute’ and fun book.)
Now Rabbit Hill is on the banned literature list. Along with a few other poems that make me weep. The banned literature list is by request of the children...as in “If you must read that, please don’t read it aloud in front of us. It’s too....weird.)
Rabbit Hill, one of my childhood favorites, will not be part of the St. Francis lesson plan this year. The boys are still traumatized from my decision, about two years ago, to read them the last chapter. When I got to that part with the statue of St. Francis and the mole who asks the rabbit(?) to ‘be his eyes’ and the rabbit(?) tells him about the good Saint and how there is plenty for all......well, I found myself with tears running down my cheeks. I don’t know if I was touched by the story all over again or suffering from a burst of nostalgia. Whatever it was, it scared the boys. I am not particularly sentimental nor lachrymose. At some point they stopped paying attention to the story and started wondering what was wrong with this whole thing that it made Mom cry. (Especially since I introduced it as a ‘cute’ and fun book.)
Now Rabbit Hill is on the banned literature list. Along with a few other poems that make me weep. The banned literature list is by request of the children...as in “If you must read that, please don’t read it aloud in front of us. It’s too....weird.)
The same applied to people who "dress their pets in designer coats".
I agree totally. But......Scrappy does need that little fleece jacket from Target or he just wouldn’t go outside at all. (This was a dog who had to sleep under my blanket when the air conditioning was on this summer. ) But it is Target, not Burberry.
And then, again, there is my heretofore unemployed third daughter who recently found employment in a doggy daycare center and spa. The concept is well, splooey, but for her it is a job.
I agree totally. But......Scrappy does need that little fleece jacket from Target or he just wouldn’t go outside at all. (This was a dog who had to sleep under my blanket when the air conditioning was on this summer. ) But it is Target, not Burberry.
And then, again, there is my heretofore unemployed third daughter who recently found employment in a doggy daycare center and spa. The concept is well, splooey, but for her it is a job.
Mrs. von, your roots are showing....
Two highlights in a rather long and frustrating week at school. (In the interest of full disclosure, my homeschoolers haven’t been a treat to work with, either.) There were two moments when I had the children’s full attention.
1) I reminded them to line up and be quiet at the bubbler. This had to be translated for them with the explanation that where I come from a drinking fountain is called a bubbler. (Just Milwaukee......a lot of these kids have travelled extensively, yet they do not speak Wisconsinese.)
2) A child asked me who I preferred, the Cubs or the Braves. (Like I would say the Braves. Am I nuts?) I told them I hadn’t cared for the Braves since they moved out of Milwaukee. Indeed, they were totally flumoxed at the announcement that when I was their age, the Braves were the Milwaukee Braves. (I had a hat. I even collected cards. Henry Aaron lived in my town - though on the posher side of the Milwaukee River.)
Two highlights in a rather long and frustrating week at school. (In the interest of full disclosure, my homeschoolers haven’t been a treat to work with, either.) There were two moments when I had the children’s full attention.
1) I reminded them to line up and be quiet at the bubbler. This had to be translated for them with the explanation that where I come from a drinking fountain is called a bubbler. (Just Milwaukee......a lot of these kids have travelled extensively, yet they do not speak Wisconsinese.)
2) A child asked me who I preferred, the Cubs or the Braves. (Like I would say the Braves. Am I nuts?) I told them I hadn’t cared for the Braves since they moved out of Milwaukee. Indeed, they were totally flumoxed at the announcement that when I was their age, the Braves were the Milwaukee Braves. (I had a hat. I even collected cards. Henry Aaron lived in my town - though on the posher side of the Milwaukee River.)
Thursday, October 02, 2003
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
"I want to suffer for love and I will sing always even if I have to gather my roses from among thorns."
and on a snarkier note...
Today’s writing assignment: Use St. Therese and that refrigerator together, in a sentence.
Today would be a great time for a field trip to St. Therese’s shrine in Darien, IL, but the landlord is coming to look at the floor damage and that now dead refrigerator this afternoon.
Oh, well, I shan’t dispute where I find my thorns...
and on a snarkier note...
Today’s writing assignment: Use St. Therese and that refrigerator together, in a sentence.
Today would be a great time for a field trip to St. Therese’s shrine in Darien, IL, but the landlord is coming to look at the floor damage and that now dead refrigerator this afternoon.
Oh, well, I shan’t dispute where I find my thorns...
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