"Don’t worry kids.....they probably recognize me from school."

The family had this feeling a lot of children were staring at us at Mass yesterday.

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.

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.

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.

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......

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. )

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.

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.”

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.

Note to Embot:
Come and visit soon. You'll love the fridge.

I know we have a lot of animals, but at least we're not like that guy in New York with the tiger and the 'gator. Take a Benadryl and spend some quality time with the pups...

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.'

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.

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...

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.)

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.

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.)

Pure spirits.

And it’s a good thing...or my family’s angels would be suffering from exhaustion, grey hair and an endless need for chocolates and Excedrin.

So it wasn’t Bobby Short at the Hotel Carlyle...
Popcorn Chicken at KFC followed by refrigerator shopping at Home Depot is a dream date.

Why did the chickens cross our road?
I'll let you know when I've figured it out.
A pair of beautiful chickens (maybe Rhode Island Reds.....not White Leghorns) crossing our little suburban street. Skunks, squirrels, the occasional deer are no surprise. But chickens?

"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...

St. Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle......


Just the start of my favorite homeschooling week. So many saints that the curriculum plans itself. And we tie them into just about every subject. (OK, ixnay on the home ec today. That little fridge business makes baking an angel food cake just too complicated)

And hey, remember not to eat the blackberries.......

Hmmmm. Does this explain why people start to look like their dogs?

New exercises in detachment....
That refrigerator....
There is detachment from affections, things - small, goofy things; small expensive things.
Today let’s try something big and blocking the microwave and clean dishes.

Pope John Paul II Names 30 New Cardinals
Idiot TV reporter implies that blackout in Italy is somehow linked to divine displeasure at the Pope “stacking the deck” for potential successor. Why not stretch a bit more and tie it in with the the Cubs Win! and the Bears returning to Soldier Field?

Ellyn’s Pity Party

Featuring one tired mother, her exasperated husband, her peripatetic sister, three dogs, six not particularly helpful children, one leaking refrigerator, a decomposing plywood floor and one bottle of Miller Lite beer. With music supplied by Big Al Carson of the Funky Pirate on Bourbon Street NO, LA. Dessert delights by Krispy Kreme.

Embot is home for the week-end. Nothing big planned - just hanging out. When I returned from work today she reported that there was a big wet spot around the refrigerator. Bridget reported that something was leaking into her basement bedroom. Rick chalked it all up someone being careless while carrying icecube trays. Sure. While clearing the dinner dishes, I tripped on the bubble in the linoleum.

My sister called from New Orleans to give me a vivid description of her dinner. Yum. It’s not her fault she has to be there for a symposium that starts on Monday and the State of Wisconsin booked her on a flight that left at 7:00 am today.

All the whiny females - dogs excluded - convince pater that there is something unnatural going on with the refrigerator. It took a lot of talking, since he countered all of our arguments with the statement that there was no place from which water could flow. Except that the disconnected water supply to the non-working icecube maker had somehow been turned ON - and was leaking water into the walls of the fridge and out any which way possible.

The fridge is now in the middle of the kitchen. With a little encouragement, Rick decided to cut up the linoleum. A good thing. The plywood is soaked and delaminating. Delaminating is a new word I just learned this evening. Now the fridge is in the middle of the kitchen so it doesn’t fall through the floor into Bridget’s bedroom. (Let’s play “The Glad Game”.I may get new, non-textured flooring sooner than I had hoped. Of course, I may also have a refrigerator in the middle of the kitchen for the next 6 months.)

Oh.....Embot just came in with some Krispy Kremes. This may ameliorate the trauma caused by the beer bottle that fell on Rick’s head as he was working with the fridge. (And where did it come from? We haven’t had a drink since New Year’s. Or maybe the Fourth of July.) Now it’s not just water. It’s water, beer and broken glass. And Fran’s brilliant comment, “The refrigerator moved. Why is it there?”

My sister called me from the Funky Pirate. Just to tell me that she had a drink with Big Al Carson. Then she put her cell phone on the table so I could hear the beginning of the band’s next set. And she wished I was there. So do I , Sister. So do I.

Roll ‘em, Lester

Stream of consciousness computer play while waiting for Embot to drive home from Champaign....
I started thinking about our schedule for the week-end. Then I remembered the Chatty Cathies at church. Thinking of Chatty Cathy made me think of a TV character from my childhood, Lippy Lucy. I can remember very little about Lippy Lucy except the catch phrase, “I’m Lippy Lucy and I love to talk and talk and talk.”

A Google search for Lippy Lucy sent me to the Toon Tracker site: In Search of Lost Toons. Little info about Lucy, except to mention that her show was a replacement for Pops’ Theater, a staple of my childhood TV viewing. I thought it was the greatest......my mother begged to differ. Especially when the Stooges were on.

..... an old theater usher named "Pops", who worked at the fictional Bee-Jou (Bijou) Theater. With a studio audience full of cub scouts and brownies, Pops told tasteless jokes, talked about his wife Effie, and introduced the showing of old Three Stooges shorts by shouting "Roll 'Em, Lester" as the movie was about to begin.

Ah, the memories.
I must at some point reveal that WGN Channel 9’s meteorologist Tom Skilling used to work with a puppet (Albert the Alley Cat) back in his early days in Milwaukee. Funny, he doesn’t mention the puppet much....

So why should the kids have all the fun?

No Comment Zone

Picture day at school.
Children in Burberry.
(One child in Burberry is unique. Multiple children is a disturbing... trend.

Running late again....
and the dogs weren’t even so frisky this morning. I’m feeling oddly drained, rather than energized. Martha returned from school in a foul mood last night. Precipitated, I think, by the fact that her father picked her up in the big blue van with squeaky brakes. Having an ugly car is one thing, but an ugly car that calls attention to itself is too much. Shades of Uncle Buck. Fran tried to cheer Martha up. She explained about all the vacuous, richy-bitchy types that she went to school with at Lake Forest and how their lives (so far...like 4 years later) haven’t been all that great and that mild adversity and living in a large wacky family has helped to make her the hard working young woman she is today. Thank you, Fran. I don’t know if Martha appreciated it, but it cheered me immensely.

“Do you know how awful it is to be broke all the time and get picked up in a peeling, squeaking van when other kids get into Hummers and Jaguars?” was not the kind of thanks I was looking for, at the end of a rough day, for the 20+ years of doing without ‘stuff’ to be a stay at home mom.

Even Rick was in a bit of a snit. He and the boys had spent the afternoon at another (much less well off Catholic school) working on their service project of upgrading the schools computers. (Keeping the Mac in Immaculate Conception is Chuck’s slogan)
As they were getting settled in the van to come home, RIck was sure he saw a woman in the parking lot taking down his license number - you know, because the car looks so darned disreputable.

Sorry, Franny....
I know you really, really disliked being an altar girl. (Remember the morning you snuck into my room and tried to reset my clock so we’d oversleep?) This is too late to help you.

Who let the dogs out?
I did.
No blogging this morning.

Pay No Attention....
to the woman on the lawn - in her nightgown - in the dark.

Now our family is complete. We have a dog with ADD. Bessie was waiting for me at the front door when I came downstairs at 5:45. I thought this was real puppy training progress....(since I can’t train the family to keep her in her kennel at night.) We slipped out the front door. And then we checked out some hosta leaves, found a green crabapple to bite and bat about. Totally forgetting why we were outside in the dark so early in the morning. Hence the woman carrying a puppy out on to the grass with the exhortations to, “Let’s speed this up......you’re cutting into my blogging time.”

Doh!
I slept through most of the Emmies. The Emmy awards have become much like the Oscars - my opportunity to get a glimpse of that which I wouldn’t have otherwise seen. There is the matter of time constraints coupled with not wanting to spend one penny more on cable. Yeah, we’re so cheap and regressive we don’t even have digital!

Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho...
off to work I go. Sunday morning is not my usual time in the rectory. But the Sunday girl needed to switch and I needed the hours, so there you go. This may be a blessing in disguise. I'll be missing Mass with Rick and the kids. But at the 7:30am Mass it is highly unlikely that I'll run into the Chatty Kathy sisters who talk, and talk, and talk... Maybe it's for the best. This week I think I could be moved to sit down next to them and tell them in my most charitable tones that they are rude and disrespectful. Or I could employ the pidgin sign language that we use in the lunchroom at school - an assortment of mouth covering and lip zipping to convey silence when yelling "BE QUIET" is not be feasible.

Oh, Goody....

You are Malifacent from Sleeping Beauty. The
ultimate goth and party crasher.


What Disney Villain are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
She is my favorite DIsney villain. Sleeping Beauty is my favorite DIsney movie....thanks to a lavish picture book, I knew the movie forwards and backwards by the time I saw it. Sometime around age 28. My mother wouldn’t let me see it as a child. She had a bad experience with taking her two young nieces to see Snow White back in the 40’s(?) The were absolutely terriffied. And she wasn’t about to make that mistake again. So the first Disney movie I saw was Peter Pan.... I may start skimming a little off of the grocery money to buy the deluxe DVD version of Sleeping Beauty when it comes out later this month. Oh, Martha wants it, too. So it wouldn’t be just for me.....
Link via Michelle.

The TV reporters blowing around in the high winds of Isabel have become a bit tedious. It is more assinine exhibitionism than true news reportage. But I do admire these guys:“Once you become a badgeholder, it’s like you’ll do whatever you have to do to guard the unknowns,” Lanier said. “For one, it’s my job. And for two, that’s just how much respect I myself have for the unknowns. That’s just something we cherish.”

“What I'm doing may be immoral, but it's not illegal."
A terminally ill member of a euthanasia society, whose identity and condition have not been revealed, intends to raise awareness for the cause of dying with dignity by committing suicide during the concert, according to the band's singer, Billy Tourtelot.
Hell on Earth?
No comment.

How Does She Do It?
For those who may be wondering how I can afford a genuine simulated human brain....I forgot to gloat about how much money I saved at the Friends of the Library used book sale last week-end.

I found books I really needed. Like d'Aulaire's Greek Myths for $2.50 (suggested retail $19.95) Another book - the exact title escapes me - that Greenleaf Press suggests for Ancient Greece for just $1 (suggested retail $16.95) Some English texts that I can resell. Plus some cool Christmas gifts for people. And some fun stuff just for me. (Like we need another Norton Anthology of English Literature....)

Mrs. von Huben, your brain is ready....
My recent order from the Delta Math and Science catalog arrived yesterday afternoon. Along with some things we needed, I had this little impulse purchase. I thought it would be fun.....and educational. A life size model of the human brain. (Don’t bother asking, “Is it a working model?” That was the first thing my husband said when he saw it. Then he asked, “Why?”) It is more detailed and the various parts of the brain are much more identifiable than with the tiny brain that pops out of our 18” anatomy model.

I may have to keep it in protective custody. I see potential for abuse/pranks/etc. in the coming weeks....culminating with Halloween.

When our homeschooling days are over, I may put it on a shelf - somewhere between the gator head and the mock-Fowler phrenology head.

Time Will Pass.....Will You?
Fascinating commentary at Fructus Ventris on clocks and crosses.

Thanks to my orthodontist, I’m shy!
Crouched in the fetal position is the most popular sleep pattern and favored by 51 percent of women, according to the results of the study he conducted for a large hotel group.

Fetal sleepers tend to be shy and sensitive while people who assume the soldier position, flat on their back with arms at their sides, are quiet and reserved.

The freefall, flat on the tummy with the hands at the sides of the head, is the most unusual position. Only 6.5 percent of people prefer it and they are usually brash and gregarious.

I was a freefall person. Until 6th grade. The wearing of one of those orthodontic head thingamajigs broke me of that habit. Now I’m pure fetal position. If I go back to sleeping flat on my stomach, will I become brash and gregarious? Or will I just leave the house each morning with strange patterns pressed into my face?

Oh, well, I'll quit the kvetching. At least my teeth are straight. And I only had to wear that device at bedtime. Some people wore theirs 24/7.

The Whole World is Watching!
And the reporter on TV said brother-in-laws. Eek.

Fun!
via Gospel Minefield

so I am.....
The Crossroads
This is the inviting and welcoming personality type that is most well known for recreational activities and general partying. Always happy in a crowd, the Crossroads love to converse, to relate, and above all to have fun.
This personality tends to think in a more holistic approach than many of the other personality types, covering ground piece by piece in a hodgepodge fashion rather than following a single line of logic from beginning to end. Like a crow they are attracted to shiny objects, new ideas, playful exciting colors and the thrill of a new personal relationship.

General partying? Alas, no more. But I still love a new box of 64 crayons.

Oprah?
Through some strange turn of events, I was awake at 11:00pm last night. So I turned on the daily rerun of Oprah to see what was happening. Yech. Now Oprah is shilling for Madonna.......or is it The Gap. Or Madonna and The Gap. Oprah made her entrance to the music from the Madonna/Missy Elliot Gap ad surrounded by the very same dancers! from said ad campaign. What a coinkidinks. At this point I grabbed the remote and terminated the whole ordeal. I didn’t want to wait for Madonna to come out and shill for her children’s book. I really need more sleep....not a Oprah/Gap/Madonna circle.......well, endless circle of mutual admiration.

The Fat Letter is in the Mail....
The concept of mailing out body-mass index scores just doesn’t sound good. It reminds me of weigh and measure day back in grade school. That was as close as I ever got to feeling that I was in line at a guillotine. No, I think I would have preferred the guillotine. Better to have your head quickly detached than to have the school nurse weigh and measure you and then SHOUT OUT THE RESULTS TO A VOLUNTEER IN CHARGE OF RECORDING THE STATS. Do I sound bitter? Do I sound like the girl who was not just the heaviest but also the tallest in the class? Do I sound like someone who couldn’t shave inches off her height but managed to work herself into anorexia by end of high school? How about the amphetamines I convinced the doc to prescribe in college? ‘Nuff said.

The hope is that getting body-mass index scores will nudge some parents out of denial and encourage them to make simple changes such as buying Diet Coke instead of Coke, said Dr. Joe Thompson, a pediatrician and one of the architects of the state's program. Parents also will be advised to seek medical attention for their children, if warranted.

Diet Coke? How about water? Eau de la tap? Or bottled water if the tap water tastes funky. (I myself am now addicted to La Croix sparkling water with lemon. It tastes a lot better than Lake Michigan with chlorine.)

If the Apple in Eden were a Macintosh....
The Curt Jester reaches new heights of historical humor.

Ushers?
Our conversation on the way home from Mass yesterday should have been about the great homily we had heard. But I digressed by posing the question, “Is there some sort of neurological problem that makes it physically impossible for some people to shut up?”

There are two women who come to the noon Mass, sit together and yack, giggle and (gag me) drink bottled water. They are old enough to know better (late 20’s/early 30’s) and young enough not to be suffering from some sort of dementia that would cause them to act inappropriately. We managed to avoid sitting near them for a few weeks. But yesterday they were two pews behind us. They reached their vulgar peak during Communion making it impossible for me to pray when I had returned to my place. I can usually close my eyes and ignore the normal distractions that go on. This was too, too much. And the irritation of the other people in the area was palpable. So I turned around - no easy thing to do while trying to stay on the kneeler - and fixed them with the sternest look possible. I made eye contact with one of the gals. Still it continued. So I turned again. This time it was a the meanest dirty look I could muster.
No effect. If we were at Showplace 8 watching a movie, I would have made the most succinct and scathing comment possible. (I have done this. In the absence of movie theater ushers, I will turn around and tell trouble makers to knock it off)

This was Church, not a show house. So I didn’t not think saying something to people two rows behind us would have been: a)helpful b)reverent c) efficacious d)all of the above.

The question I pose.....where were the ushers? We were very close to the back of the church. Shouldn’t they have noticed the scene that was playing out? Are there times that ushers should be shushers? If I hadn’t been trapped mid-pew, should I have slipped out and gone to beg the ushers help? Or in the absence of a DOTS box to toss at them, should I have folded a bulletin into an efficient airplane and airmailed my complaints to the offenders?

DOH!
I promise to learn how to spell hurricane.
I promise to learn how to spell hurricane.
I promise to learn how to spell hurricane.
I promise to learn how to spell hurricane.
I promise to learn how to spell hurricane.
I promise to learn how to spell hurricane.
I promise to learn how to spell.......

I think it's been about a year that I copped the plea that I was under the influence of the dental office (i.e. Hurricaine = fasting acting topical anesthetic.) It's hurricane season again. And dental season, too.

I'll try harder.....