Arrested Development mini-marathon on Fox tonight.
So there is hope for an entertaining evening.
Before Rick gets back to the six disk set of Dr. Who.....(sorry, after all these years I just don’t 'get' Dr. Who. Rick married me knowing that I didn’t understand. I just never anticipated the development of the DVD....)

Embot found a pattern for a Dr. Who scarf. I suggested expanding it to make a Dr. Who throw. (That way pater can't wear it in public.)

A Suggestion....

Radio no longer playing Christmas music?
Can’t find that Charlie Brown Christmas CD?
May I suggest this as a little change of pace for the new year.
Kids, depression, peeing dogs. That’s what I call adult rock.

Eddie’s ‘Date’ at My Sister’s Wedding

Actually, a very sweet girl. The daughter of one of the bridesmaids.
But I decided to post this when my friends at work saw the picture and had the same thought that I did. Remember that movie, Children of the Damned?

I think she was getting a little tired waiting for the cake to be served.

Just a thought....
Since we’ve been homeschooling, I’ve just about totally given up on the obsessive labelling of the children’s garments. I mean, what’s the point of writing VON HUBEN inside of Eddie’s coat if he isn’t mixing up coats with a ton of kids at school. Now I know the point.

Eddie didn’t have his coat on Christmas Eve. But he was coming down with a temporary, though nasty, case of pseudo-oppositional defiant disorder, so I figured the coat was a battle best left unfought. He couldn’t find his coat on Sunday. No big deal. The temps were in the upper ‘40’s. But our pastor (and my boss!) asked him what happened to his coat as we were leaving Mass. So for the sake of my pride, I started grilling him and anyone else who would participate on the possible whereabouts. I was begging him to start wearing the coat before someone slipped me a note with Catholic Charities’ phone number or (worse yet) an anonymous envelope with a small amount of cash, a suggestion of where I could find a reasonably priced garment and promises of prayers for my family in our ‘difficult times.’

The rental cars from the wedding trip had been thoroughly examined. We checked the BBV, behind the bedroom doors, under the couch. No luck. When I talked to my sister on Sunday night, I just happened to ask her if she saw a stray rust colored NorthFace boys jacket floating around. Of course! She thought it belonged to one of her son’s friends...

As soon as the coat arrives, I’m putting Eddie’s name in it.

Forgot to mention...
that congratulations are in order for Embot's fiance, Ed. (Guess that would make him the Edbot?) He finally received his letter of acceptance from UIC Dental School. We figured he'd be a shoe-in, but he was more cautious and waited for the letter before he started celebrating.

TMI........TMI!
Michelle and I are doing the same ‘holiday’ reading. Though I’ve never been particularly fascinated by Jack the Ripper, I was intrigued by an article on Patricia Cornwell’s book that appeared in Vanity Fair several months ago. So I bought this book for an interested family member as a Christmas present. (Yeah, I know, creepy and self-serving.) Said family member is currently reading something else and lent the book to me. I took it to work in case of some quiet time in which I might finish the reading assigned by my spiritual director and in need of something light to read. Saturday was a little slow. Mostly the usual calls - “what time is confession?” “about 6 hours ago...” “what time is your Saturday Mass?” and I was able to read the first hundred pages or so.

I couldn’t put it down. (Except when visitors came into the office. Then I slid it under the desk.) But I was overwhelmed with what my children refer to as TMI! TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!! I was expecting medically correct information, but this was a deluge. I came away knowing more than I ever needed to know about penile malformations, 19th c. mortuary practices etc.
That didn’t stop me from taking it to work with me last night. I should finish it this evening. (If I can stomach it....)

Holiday Diversity
This is the cutest thing since St. Nicholas left chocolate Maccabees in baby Embot's stocking.

Abundant Life Christian Center in La Marque will give away a new Chrysler PT Cruiser to a woman and a Harley Davidson Sportster to a man at its New Year's Eve service.
I don’t think this would help in my parish. And if people aren’t coming because we have Jesus truly present with us - body, blood, soul and divinity - why would they come for a Harley.

Of course, since I’d be at church anyway, I would put my name in. I could use a PT Cruiser. (Or any vehicle that doesn’t have three tires in the grave and one on a banana peel.) I think the man/woman thing is a little sexist, too. But I did promise my late motorcycling father that I would stay away from motorcycles. He knew I wasn’t the most coordinated bough on the family tree.

What would work at my parish - and why they’ve never taken up my scathingly brilliant idea I will never comprehend - would be to raffle off a guaranteed parking space. Isolating one special place and raffling off guaranteed use at a specific Mass 52 Sundays a year could be a great fundraiser. (And maybe make the tickets $5 a piece and guarantee Christmas/Easter/all of Holy Week/all holy days). Right now the only guaranteed parking is in the priests’ garage. And they are occassionally blocked in by bozos who think it is alright to park outside the garage doors...

So...
instead of getting caught up on the laundry, I spent the afternoon watching Gone With the Wind.

You are Melanie Hamilton. A true lady. You are
generous, loyal, giving and can see only the
best in people. You are willing to go out of
your way to help anyone, even if it's against
public opinion. You can be surprising firm if
the occasion calls for it.


Which Character from 'Gone With The Wind' are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

My sister's wedding...
Pictures courtesy of Embot. [My camera is still bouncing around the bottom of my totebag.]


The Cousins, Anne and Dave

The Beautiful Wedding Cake

The vonHuben Kids

The vonHubens plus dates... what a crowd!

In order:

Chuck, Ed, Eddie, Emily, Bridget, Dad, Martha, Tom, Fran, Will and Mom!

Martha and Her Irish Princess Bridesmaid Dress

Pictures turned out all crazy because my flash kept on metering off of
the white hair of the little old lady sitting in front of me.

Friday Five
1. What was your biggest accomplishment this year?Completing my school job without getting physically sick or emotionally overwrought.

2. What was your biggest disappointment? That I can’t work three jobs and homeschool my children. (ie. - I need a little more time for prayer and sleep.)

3. What do you hope the new year brings? Peace.

4. Will you be making any New Year's resolutions? If yes, what will they be? Be more organized. Less ambitious.

5. What are your plans for New Year's Eve? Watch TV. Get some sleep. Have the kids wake me up at midnight.

What? No Pickle?

You are the Christmas Dove.


What Christmas Ornament are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Link via Summa Mamas.

Our tree is prettiest that we have ever had. (Yeah, I know I've been saying that every year since I could talk. But it's always true.) This year was an exercise in detachment and learning to delegate tasks. I was around long enough to oversee the installation of the tree and the excruciating debate of, "Do we cut off another two feet to get to a skinnier part of the trunk or do we run out for a new stand?" [The vote, on account of the fact that it was the afternoon of December 23, was heavily in favor of whacking off some height to save precious time.] I helped with the lights. And the beads. And the first of the ornaments. Then it was time to go to work. And for the first time in my adult life, I entrusted the rest of the decorating to the children - with pater nearby in case things turned ugly. (Ugly in the emotional/interpersonal sense. Just because he studied at the Art Institute of Chicago doesn't mean he is qualified to judge what makes for a gorgeous Christmas tree.) Four and a half hours later I returned to a most beautiful tree, lovingly trimmed right down to the hundred pieces of reproduction Victorian hand-tooled tinsel.

From Tuesdays Chicago Sun-Times...
an interesting obit and a fine reminder of why SpellCheck is no substitute for human editing:
For more than 40 years, Father Deck worked as the vice-postulator for the cause of beautification of Abbot Columba Marmion, the Irish monk after which the academy and abbey are named. He lived to see Abbot Marmion receive the honor in 2000 and was working the past few years toward his canonization, the final step toward Catholic sainthood.

Boxing Day...

...a few last gifts.
- to the people sitting in front of us at Mass on Christmas Eve. You not only have the right to remain silent, sometimes it is expected of you. Count your blessings that I did not tap you on the shoulders and suggest that you ‘offer it up’ when you were complaining about the hard pews.

- to the television advertisers who started emoting about their giant After Christmas sales earlier than usual. Could some of us have the pleasure of finishing out Advent before you launch us into the After Christmas season.

- to the radio stations that were 24 hour Christmas music starting before Thanksgiving...but will have no timely tunes on this, the second day of Christmas.

- to the family member who ‘borrowed’ the last of my hairbrushes. Would it motivate you if you thought I had been exposed to cooties at school?

The early bird...
gets the worms, the egg nog, the ham, the peppermint ice cream. I know. I should have done my marketing a couple of days ago. But I'm not that organized. The next best thing was running to Dominick's at 7:30 this am. Relatively little business. Most of my co-shoppers appeared to be helping professionals on their way home from the third shift. Way too early for the manic, mink-clad matrons ranting into their hands-free cell phones as they block the aisles.......

Don’t Panic...
when listening to this morning’s news. Something akin to ‘Mad Cow Disease’ shows up as a spontaneous mutation in every so many hundred thousand cattle. The scary part is really the modern meat processing industry which tends to mix products together. And that pragmatic practice of grinding up downer cattle and by-products to be fed back to cattle as feed. Turning cattle into cannibals. You may want to read Deadly Feasts by Richard Rhodes for more info. Especially to find out why cannibalism is bad (as if we needed a warning) and why to avoid eating brains. (Didja know that Wisconsin, with all it’s headcheese loving Germans has a higher that average incidence of Kreuzfeldt-Jakob disease? K-J is a spongiform encephalopathy that causes the same devastation as Mad Cow.

Deadly Feasts is a fascinating read. Though maybe not while eating lunch

MERRY CHRISTMAS...
to all.
I'm off to run through the grocery store before the less serious shoppers start clogging the aisles.
Then the rest of the day shall work around getting to church at 5:00 (immediately after the 4:00 pm Mass) to get seats for the 6:00pm Mass. Normally, I am willing to offer up any discomfort from having to stand through Mass. But on Christmas, I just loathe standing with my whole fidgety family with a throng of other antsy standees.

More...
about our fabulous week-end. I was able to see the parish church in my sister’s town. A lot of wood, sort of a ski lodge kind of architecture. But not altogether off-putting. They have incorporated elements from their old church, such as the old Stations of the Cross. Not at all like St. Patrick’s in Hudson which appears to have been built from a modified prison plan. Very narrow windows.

I did have a few unpleasant moments when I knelt and found my feet stuck under the seat. I looked across the aisle to notice that the chairs had a derriere-friendly slant to them, leaving less foot room at the back than at the front. This is probably not a problem for any worshippers wearing flexible shoes, but my clunky heavy-duty size 10 practical boots became wedged under the seat every time. I wonder what happens to men with really big feet (and boots.)

At home I am usually a reticent and self-conscious singer. Remembering all the tone deaf and vigorous hymn singers that I mocked in my childhood, I am sure that every church is crawling with little children waiting to laugh themselves into apoplexy at my attempts at hymnody. But feeling overwhelmed with good cheer I found myself singing quite enthusiastically. (Probably for the same reason I was on the dance floor, singing ‘Love Shack’ and ‘Rock Lobster’ the night before - I’d most likely never see most of these people again.) All my vocal efforts went smoothly....until after the exchange of peace. The pianist started to play and I, naturally, started singing the Agnus Dei. But the congregation broke into “Let There Be Peace on Earth.” The whole darned song. (In the interest of full disclosure, I shall admit I don’t particularly care for this song.) I was so confused. Then we sang the Agnus Dei. Then I knelt and re-wedged my feet under the seat.

"What man gives you a toilet seat for Christmas?"
My man. Last year. And he was so sweet - he didn't make me wait for December 25th. He installed it within 72 hours (he's good, not perfect) of our shopping trip to Home Depot.

The headline should be "Ungrateful Wives Kvetch About Non-Problems."

Back!
And not a moment too soon.
My sister’s wedding was marvelous. (Will have pictures as soon as Embot can help me figure out how to download the digital stuff.) There were a few requisite gaffs, but of the sort that will acquire more charm with the patina of time.

- I missed the rehearsal. We dropped Karen, Martha and the kids at the rehearsal and then set out in search of the Best Western hotel where my overnight case was in the back of Fran’s vehicle. It was imperative that I catch them before they took off for a night at the Mall of America..... So I arrived at the rehearsal just as it was breaking up. But we did make it to the rehearsal dinner.

- Karen was charging through the house on Saturday morning looking for the marriage license. She found it.

- Karen forgot to give me my Bible reading but Em was kind enough to find it on the internet. Then we discover that Karen’s printer is not hooked up, so Em is kind enough to hand write it in a reasonably neat hand. But what I needed was 36 pt. type. So I had to bring my glasses to the wedding.
The more I read the poem the more I didn’t like it. But it was Karen’s wedding, not mine. So read I did. (Though I was tempted to start with a disclaimer that “the views expressed in this poem are not necessarily those of the reader, her Church or her employer, the Catholic Bishop of Chicago.�) My only sister’s wedding was not the place for me to start my career in stand-up comedy. Although I did do a little schtick in the car while practicing the readings. A line in the poem said something about marriage being about discipline and I couldn’t help inserting my own quip about “not just bondage.�

- Em did a great job of hemming Martha’s bride’smaid dress with heat fusible tape and a curling iron. (A flat hair iron would have worked better, but the ‘kill the curls’ contingent was camped out at the Best Western....)
Martha looked so beautiful in her dark green satin trimmed with white (I’m sure it was faux) fur. Instead of a traditional bouquet, she carried a white fur muff trimmed with holly. I want her to wear the dress on Christmas Day, just for a little while so my in-laws can see how gorgeous she looks. In fact, I think she should wear this dress every Christmas - she can be our Christmas queen.

- The wedding itself went off without a hitch in that time-suspended sort of way that feels like the whole thing took forever and/or 90 seconds. It was a standard Lutheran marriage ceremony presided over by the groom’s cousin. Just like my wedding, though they seem to have updated the wording. Thereto I plight thee my troth is a tongue twister under the best of conditions and almost impossible to say when nervous and dry-mouthed.

- I can’t wait to see the pictures. It was great to have the whole family together, including the girls’ suitors, all dressed up and on our best behavior. Everyone dispersed before I could line them up on the curving staircase at the courthouse, but I think we got a lot of good pics anyway. Chuck and Eddie looked sharp, if not 100% comfortable in their pristine khakis and blue blazers. So what if Eddie’s hair looked like his far-sighted mother cut it with a dull scissors. I know I’ve seen that look in the fashion mags. (OK, I did try on Friday to lure him into the Cost Cutters inside the Tomah, WI Wal-Mart where we took a quick rest break, but his father convinced me that we had no time for a professional repair job.)

- Karen’s dress was more beautiful than it looked in the on-line pictures. She realized at the last minute that the tattoo on her back was showing. (Not that the dress was particularly low-cut. The tattoo is just placed rather high.) I didn’t see what the panic was about, that tattoo is twenty year-old news. Maybe the groom’s relatives didn’t know. They do now.

- The reception was fun and orderly. No big chaos until afterwards. Fran started slipping on the icy sidewalk and her beau leapt down the stairs to help her. He slipped and gashed his forehead, requiring 10 stitches.

- Embot and fiance Big Ed were driving my sister’s car full of wedding gifts and the rented partywear from the mini-reception at the courthouse. They were pulled over for speeding and expired registration. It’s all OK. Em was embarrassed to be in the District Attorney’s vehicle with expired registration. (She’s been meaning to get around to it, but was stalling so she could take care of the marital name change at the same time.) Rick - ever the optimist - said they were lucky they weren’t arrested by local constabulary concerned that Karen’s car may have been stolen.

- And then, as quickly as we had arrived, we gathered our stuff (plus some extra dog and cat hairs) and dashed home before our carriages (rented ‘03 Toyota Sequoias - very cool) turned into pumpkins at midnight Sunday.

More later about Sunday Mass in a northwoods church....
It’s December 23rd and time for me to do a few Christmas preparations. Like bring in the tree. And convince Em and Martha to bake some cookies.

Ghosts of Christmas Past
I was going to buy some Care Bear stuff for my niece, but Martha convinced me that she wouldn’t get the retro thing. Oh, well. I know one girl who is getting some Strawberry Shortcake things.....and she remembers the first go ‘round.

How Wonderful Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Link via Disputations.

That last day of school post....
was causing the punctuation problem. Couldn't fix it. Just deleted it. TIme to get ready for the road trip.......
Back Sunday.

Can figure what's causing the weird punctuation.
No time to work on it.
Am doing laundry etc. trying to get ready for tomorrow's wedding adventure.

The atmosphere here is a little like the beginning of "Home Alone" which tomorrow will segue into "National Lampoon's Family Vacation/Christmas Vacation" meets some sort of wacky family reunion art film.

Let's Read More Carefully...
The note on the memo board is "Aunt Karen needs a clutch purse for the wedding."
She doesn't need a 'catch phrase.' (Though I could think of a few.)

Mass Times!
Hey.....this really works.

Try chains....
They look a little strange upon close inspection, but they are efficacious.
My parish knows.
The chains worked. So last year it was Joseph who went walkabout.

more day.
Am running out of steam.
Saw a magazine at the Jewel the other night. 500 Fabulous Christmas Ideas.
Could write my own magazine....500 Bad Ideas.
#320 - Finish Christmas shopping at Target at 9:30 at night. Check out when they throw you out at 11:00.
#294 - Plan your wedding for the winter solstice.
#174 - Make a fabulous Bruce Springsteen Born to Run collage for your sister. Pull together all components (in July) except for thirty year old newspaper clippings and leave on closet shelf until you have thirty-six sleep deprived hours to assemble.
#99 - Debate when to buy the tree. Thursday or Tuesday.
#408 - Live on caffeine, Sudafed and left over pieces of cake from the Baby Jesus Birthday Party at Church. Try to use vitamins, soy drinks and lots of Lubriderm around the eye-lids to undo the damage.
#1 - Neglect spiritual life. Put spiritual reading on the same shelf with the bills that you’ll pay the first week in January. Try to cram all of your prayer time into multi-tasking activities only. (i.e. praying while driving, doing laundry, etc.) Don’t waste time that could be spent on superfluous details of ‘holiday’ celebrations.

This is St. ____ Parish, not an argument clinic:
Q: WHAT DO YOU WANT?
M: Well, I was told outside that...
Q: Don't give me that, you snotty-faced heap of parrot droppings!
M: What?
Q: Shut your festering gob, you [ ]! Your type really makes me [ ], you
vacuous, coffee-nosed, maloderous, pervert!!!
M: Look, I CAME HERE FOR AN ARGUMENT, I'm not going to just stand...!!
Q: OH, oh I'm sorry, but this is abuse.
M: Oh, I see, well, that explains it.
Q: Ah yes, you want room 12A, Just along the corridor.
M: Oh, Thank you very much. Sorry.
Q: Not at all.
M: Thank You.

I love my job. I like being able to help people. It is frustrating when I can’t give them the answers that they want. And sometimes, well sometimes all I can think about is the Monty Python Argument Clinic Routine.

Last night a caller called with a question that I couldn’t answer. Not really a big deal. It wasn’t life or death. It didn’t involve any sacramental needs. It was a business question. And I told her who could answer it and when. She was not satisfied. And let loose with a torrent of abuse that left me listening just out of pure fascination. Then I hung up. When she called back I told her I didn’t have to listen to abuse. So, of course, she is writing a detailed letter to Cardinal George to let him know that my parish employees me, Ellyn - yeah I gave her my name right at the beginning of the debacle. I talked to a co-worker later. There are about 8 other people from the pastor on down who are also being written up in detailed letters. Now I don’t feel so special.

And what am I - a dictionary? Between abusive phone calls, Frances calls to get a precise definition of ‘je ne sais quoi.’

I love my job.
Now off to the third to last day of the day job. Finishing fitting shepherd and angel costumes for the second grade pageant.

nobody comes to my theme camps...

You are a Tortured Conceptual Artist. Your fellow
postmodernists call you an anachronism, but
you've never cared much about the opinions of
others. After all, most of them are far too
simple-minded to appreciate the nuances of your
work. They talk, while you are part of a lived
tradition.
Link via TSO.


What kind of postmodernist are you!?
brought to you by Quizilla

more days...

3 [let's get read of that huge tangram...] more days.....
No time to get sentimental - too much to do.
I’m glad I took some time out to veg with the kids on Saturday night. We watched Charlie Brown’s Christmas and then It’s a Wonderful Life.

Charlie Brown has achieved some sort of “Rocky Horror” status in our family, in that we can recite the whole thing. I would like to be Linus, but I’m usually cast as Lucy. (There’s a message in that somewhere, and I don’t think it has anything to do with presents for pretty girls.) But when we lose track of the reason for the season, it suffices to say “That’s what it’s all about, Charlie Brown,” to redirect our thoughts.

As usual, my favorite lines in “Wonderful LIfe” were “What am I - a dictionary?” and “You call this a happy family? Why did we have all these kids anyway?”
[Note to Embot: Don’t worry. This is a happy family. And I’m glad we had all these kids. But, hey, don’t be one of those people who calls me at work to ask how to spell a word. What am I - a dictionary?]

”An uneducated act showing a lack of respect for the place she was a guest and for those who invited her."
No kiddin’.

Mummy-guilt, Yummy Mummy Syndrome, or Taedium Vitae?
Perhaps one day they will tell us all that 17th-century doctors were absolutely correct to aver that women who thought too long and hard would find their brains exploded all over the floor.
OK, kids, you know where the Swiffer is....

Just 7 days...
and all the angst and anticipation of my sister’s wedding will be behind us. I think all of the details are covered. There is the matter of Eddie’s [lack of] haircut, but I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. That’s not what this is all about.

The other reader at the wedding has bailed, so I am doing a poem and something from the Bible which I have yet to look at. (No, I mean, really, I’m sure it’s nothing new - I just haven’t examined this in the context of my reading it aloud.) Karen told me that the rehearsal is going to be at her soon to be in-laws’ house because the Historic Courthouse where the wedding will take place is not available on Friday night. So I will have no feel for the acoustics, etc. Oh, well.

I’d better take a look at the poem again. I told Karen I would read anything as long as it wasn’t morally objectionable or patently ridiculous and out of context, such as The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Her fiance (I like this guy - he has a good sense of humor) asks, “What’s wrong with The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald?” So, maybe just for fun, I will recite that instead of the poem at the rehearsal. Just to loosen up the crowd.

The groom’s cousin - a Lutheran minister - will be presiding at the wedding. I’ve got to give up the snarky Lutheran comments. (They come so easily, having been a snarky Lutheran....)

And I’d better check out Mass times from home so I don’t forget and wind up calling the church in Amery......too late. Like the young lady who called the rectory at 5:20 last night to ask what time our Saturday evening Mass was. Oops. It was at 5:00. And the only reason I was answering the phone twenty minutes after I should have left was that I was waiting for someone to come and pick up a key. Her husband called at 4:50 to say his wife was in the shower and just remembered that she was supposed to pick up the gym key by 5:00. I wanted to say, “Why don’t you be a mensch and come over and get it for her now.” But I didn’t. So I waited. And fed the violets...and answered the phone.... (I’m still feeling a little guilty because she asked me if I knew of any churches with a 6:00pm Mass. In all honesty. I didn’t. But maybe I should have pulled the Archdiocesan directory and looked a little. But I had my coat on and just wanted to get home. So I told her we had a 6:00 pm Mass on Sunday night. Without adding the maternal directive that that gave her approximately 24 and a half hours to pull herself together. No, I’m employed to help, not chide. As much fun as that would be....)

...those who were more vulnerable to false memories also tended to suffer more frequent lapses in attention and memory
I know a man. A very brilliant man. He claims to remember a fire at the Rath Packing Plant in Waterloo, Iowa when he was about 18 months old. His mother disputes the fact that he remembers this fire. Not the fact of the fire itself. The topic comes up at just about every major family dinner, which means I have about ten days until the next go-round.

So, anyway, this man remembers exquisite details from the 1950’s and 60’s but has a little trouble remembering where he put the car keys, his hat, etc. I am not expecially alarmed by this since he has been this way since the early days of our marriage. (To digress further, this is why I will not be doing any Biblical reading at my sister’s wedding which involves why God created woman. I could so easily go off on my own little improv about the male memory....) As soon as I can get his lapsed attention, he should read this article.

Why are you taking this quiz?: To avoid Christmas shopping...

You are 'Hark! The Herald Angels Sing'. You take
Christmas very seriously. For you, it is a
religious festival, celebrating the birth of
the Saviour, and its current secularisation
really irritates you. You enjoy the period of
Advent leading up to Christmas, and attend any
local carol services you can find, as well as
the more contemplative Advent church services
each Sunday. You may be involved in Christmas
food collections or similar charity work. The
midnight service at your church, with candles
and carols, is one you look forward to all
year, and you also look forward to the family
get together on Christmas Day.



Link via Victor Lams

The former Iraqi president had $750,000 in cash on him.
Former Iraqi leader discovered hiding at bottom of hole...
A lot of good $750K will do you when you can’t go anywhere.

Maybe I’ve seen too many movies in which the vanquished general spiffs himself up one last time and surrenders with his head held high and dignity intact. Hiding in a hole looking like a Manson family alum is typical of a tyrrant worm.

I quit...
the violet hobby. For now. Bessie knocked over the last remaining healthy violet. I don't think she ate any. Just played with it. So it's going to work with me this morning. (The violet, not the dog. Never the dog. Not if I don't want to celebrate Christmas by losing my situation.) The rectory is blessed with a bay window with a perfect eastern exposure. I already have been feeding the violets there and have taken a few of mine in just to get a rest and better light. This started when I took a few rectory violets into protective custody to keep the cleaning lady from over-watering them. The water problem is better and the violets are thriving. I think I'll just feed and tend the church violets every Saturday. On my lunch hour, of course.

Good news via Summa Contra Mundum...
In Formation is back.

For Embot....the best Lucia girl ever.....

Sul mare luccica l'astro d'argento
placida é l'onda
prospero il vento

Sul mare luccica l'astro d'argento
placida é l'onda
prospero il vento

Venite all'argine
barchette mie
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
(love that Italian with a Swedish accent !)

Wish I could scan the picture of you in your Lucia costume.....maybe I’ll ask Chuck to help me. Then the hold world can see how cute you were. (Yeah, you’re still cute but it’s been a while since you appeared in public with a crown of candles on your head.)

Frostating Court of Appeals ruled that the physician in charge of was negligent for not reading the man's journal before the operation, and found the result of the surgery constituted injury.
I understand the plaintiff’s discomfort. But could someone explain why a doctor is expected to read a patient’s journal.

If I decide to have my hip fixed or my broken little toe amputated (don’t think this hasn’t crossed my mind....), must I refer my physician to this blog to check for underlying psychological impediments?

Note to Embot:
Can you access Daddy’s website from your home? I can’t upload anything. I keep getting a syntax error message. (I can fix syntax errors in the written word........but this just has me flumoxed.) When I returned home last night Daddy and the boys were mesmerized by Eddie’s new LOTR DVD (4 discs? What can there be to put on 4 discs...?) Of course, everyone is asleep now..... Talk to you later. You know where to find me.

Sublimation:
The cruelest way to dry one's hair.
But I'm out of time.....so that's the way it'll have to be.
(And I still find it a bit amusing when my hair cracks....)

What’s next....

This is next on my reading list. But I’m leaving it hermetically sealed until I complete a few other essential tasks. Hmmm....maybe I can schedule a ‘Brian Wilson’ day during break. (And I don’t mean building a sandbox in the living room. Though the dogs would enjoy that....)

4....
more days. And now I’m getting a little sentimental. I’ll those kids. And the grown-ups, too. I’m afraid when I’m well rested after break the reality will sink in.

Oh, my....
Time to leave......really. Turn off the TV. A local sportscaster is at a men's spa having his toes waxed. Will wonders never cease?

Just a really depressing book...
But worth a look if you doubt that there is a vast conspiracyto get to the minds and wallets of our children.
(And some further interesting info on Abercrombie & FItch)

Time to take it back to the library. Along with Following Our Bliss (amusing yet sad) and Knocking on Heaven’s Door (amusing, but the content doesn’t live up to the cool cover art.)

more days...

Lord, it’s hard to be humble.....
But this may help.

"What is the true meaning of the holiday season, father?" asked the little boy.
"Season's Greetings," said the father.
Dave Barry pinpoints the true meaning of the ‘holidays.’ And offers a delightful gift guide. (Though he is months behind Fr. Bryce Sibley on the on the Octodog front.)

....days of school left!

I will stop criticizing my husband's career choices.
I will stop criticizing my husband's career choices.
I will stop criticizing my husband's career choices.
I will stop criticizing my husband's career choices.
I will stop criticizing my husband's career choices.
I will stop criticizing my husband's .......

One should always modify one's dress for the local climate.
I thought the British had already refined that technique.

Maybe we'll just make this our Latin lesson for the day....

Happy Birthday to our own Edward (the sixth....)

more days...

Yeah, it was like a military operation....

Our quick trip to Target:
2 pairs of men's dress socks.
1 boys white dress shirt.
1 pair black semi-dress shoes (ie - they'll be wearable for more than church).
1 near melt-down when Mom couldn't find the khaki pants in a 16 Husky.

Not the way I want to spend a Sunday evening, but it had to be done.

Next stop....Rummage Shop.

Meanwhile, I obsess about being a bad mother....

O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.

...more days of school.
(That is, days of school as a remunerated school employee. We all know that homeschool is on-going. And going. And going. And going.)

....you are all about getting things done....
Guess that means its time for work. Note to kids: Please keep the dogs away from the chocolates. Need I remind you about Bessie's nasty chocolate vomit incident on Halloween?

EEEEEW
This is like, you know, one of my least favorite colors.....

you are aqua #00FFFF

Your dominant hues are green and blue. You're smart and you know it, and want to use your power to help people and relate to others. Even though you tend to battle with yourself, you solve other people's conflicts well. Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn't be afraid to lead people, because if you're doing it, it'll be done right. Your outlook on life is very bright. You are sunny and optimistic about life and others find it very encouraging, but remember to tone it down if you sense irritation.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

Link via Summa Mamas.

So....
Abercrombie and Fitch has already proved their superficiality. So we should be surprised to hear that it discriminates against its salespeople based on their attractiveness, according to a report on Sunday's CBS news magazine "60 Minutes.”

Chronic lack of fundage spares me the moral decision making of whether or not to set foot in A&F. (Of course, it makes it easy to proclaim that, “I refuse to shop at Abercrombie and Fitch.) My dilemma comes when I find a fine piece of previously owned clothing at the Presbyterian Rummage and am forced to make the decision to keep it (good and cheap) or toss it back in the pile (good, cheap and marked with the A&F name.) It’s not worth it to me to give them free advertising even if I have been able to obtain th eir merchandis for less than the original owner paid in sales tax.

Have I ruminated on my surprise at all the children I see at our parish school lugging stuff to school in Abercrombie shopping bags? It just looks plain wrong for little kids to be walking past a statue of our Blessed Mother toting a bag with pictures of scantily clad models. (My absolute apoplectic moment came during Lent when I saw a group of 8th graders walkiing from the school to the church to practice their living Stations of the Cross tableaux....carrying their costumes in multiple A&F demi-nudie shopping bags. What’s wrong with that picture?)

What’s in Your Stocking?

Not only did the pups not take a bite out of St. Nick, they left those dangling stockings full of treats -including the tempting and toxic chocolates - untouched.

I remembered when I was in bed that we forgot to put the wooden shoes next to the fireplace. (for entertainment purposes only!) I am sure Eddie’s feet are finally too big to even attempt to squeeze into them. But, of course, there is a teething dog who may have considered them her treat. Perhaps it is best to leave them on the shelf until next December.

OUCH!

I saw on the news that a Goodyear Blimp crashed yesterday. Fortunately no one was injured. But the Blimp didn’t look too good....

Oh.
My hopes were raised for a moment. I misread the Trib and thought that Chicago was in danger of being overrun by obsequious children.

I’m sooo confused....
I’m used to seeing this guy all over our home coomputers, but now I saw him on Mark Shea’s blog, too.

"There is a lot of money involved,'' Dr. Gartner said.
And where money is involved, so too is a lot of righteous indignation.

Through a Jaundiced Eye....
Me, cynical? Well maybe. I was on door duty at school yesterday watching as the students climbed out of an endless line of BMW’s, Jaguars and upscale SUVs. A vanity license plate caught my eye. IAMLVD. I spent the rest of door time wondering what the driver of that lovely car could have to be so livid about. It wasn’t until I was back in the building that it dawned upon me that perhaps the message being sent was I Am Loved. Hmmm. So maybe I’m the one who is livid....

Please forgive.....
the quasi-pity party I indulged in below. I guess the caffeine hadn't kicked in yet. I should be counting my blessings. Right now it's the scheduling of these blessings that has me overwhelmed. (Thankfully Target and Wal-Mart are open late, so I can do my Christmas shopping. Dad will have to do the haircut, dentist, grocery stuff. I won't even start obsessing about getting the boys up to the Rummage Shop to try on blazers. And if Chuck's Brooks Brothers khakis will just fit him through the 20th, it will all be good!)

Note to Embot: I have changed my schedule with my friend's mother, so I will be here on the 23rd during the day. Maybe we can put the tree up then. Feel free to bake cookies. Oh - is that springform pan yours, or does it go to Grandma's house?

So.....who’s your favorite Scrooge?
Just curious.
Last night, Eddie and I watched my tape of “A Christmas Carol” with George C. Scott in lieu of a bedtime story. I was too cross-eyed to read and Eddie likes this tape a lot. (He does great impersonation of Marley’s ghost!) Before I dozed off - sometime before the arrival of the Ghost of Christmas Past - I wondered who other people consider to be the best Scrooge. (As a child I was partial to Mr Magoo. In fact I still like Mr Magoo. But George C. Scott is the best.)

Any other nominees? Alistair Sim? Albert Finney?

X-ing Away my Life
When I was quite young my father saw that I was crossing off the days of December. He mentioned that it was a rather sorry way to live one’s life - X-ing out each day in anticipation of reaching a certain goal. I’m not sure exactly how he said it, but it was enough to keep from marking days off my calendar for the rest of my life. Not for graduation. Not for my wedding. Not while awaiting the babies’ arrivals. Not ever. Until now.

I find myself thinking of my father a lot while I mentally X-out the days of December. Things are going quite swimmingly for me, but I am terribly strapped for time and am actually looking forward to January. An opportunity arose for me to take on more work at the rectory (which is the ‘job’ that I most love) but I tendered my resignation at the primary school with the promise that I would stay on until Christmas vacation. In the long run this will be quite good. Eddie misses me more during the day than when I am away in the evening and the past few months of my working mornings has taken a toll on his maturation. (My husband would dispute this and say that I have working mother’s guilt. Maybe I do, but I think I see a regression. Even though Dad is here with them in the mornings and they really never are neglected, I feel that I am neglecting the boys. I find moments, especially in the lunchroom at school, when I am so reminded of them that I could cry....not an easy feat for someone not particularly lachrymose.)

So......yesterday was the beginning of three weeks of my working mornings, 4 evenings a week plus all day on Saturday. Plus a few hours a week as a companion to a friend’s mother.

One day down....13 to go.
And last night I found out that the other rectory ‘girl’ had a death in the family and I am needed to fill in on Thursday night and Sunday morning. Not that I am really complaining. Heaven knows we could use the extra money, what with my sister’s wedding on the 20th, Christmas, Martha’s new glasses, etc. etc. etc. But I find myself approaching each day as a mission to be accomplished on X-ed off the calendar. Which is a rather sorry way to live one’s life.

Oh Captain, Mercaptan
Getting ready for a very busy week. On top of Rick’s ‘to-do’ list while I’m out, find more serving suggestions for the 4 pounds of asparagus purchased for Thanksgiving dinner and then forgotten in the kitchen chaos. (The asparagus and the Sara Lee pumpkin pie that Fran realized needed baking as she was about to serve it. Luckily we also had Embot’s killer chocolate chip cheesecake to save the day.)

It was a lovely Thanksgiving. And now on to an Advent that is shaping up to be more nerve-shattering than contemplative. (More about that later.)