NOT THIS
Back in business
1 hour ago
Friday, December 31, 2004
Talking to your kids...about the tsunami must be extra special hard for parents with little or no spiritual framework in which to set this. Maybe I am just being callous, but I am saving the bulk of my concern and prayer for the people directly affected by this catastrophe. My children are old enough to understand the fundamentals of weather, geology etc. and I hope that we have given them the spiritual basis to come to grips with disaster. It must be hard for parents who try to create a perfect world for their children, only to have them find out that this is often horrifyingly not possible. And then the parents must look to the news media for hints on how to talk to their children. Rather sad.
Almost famous!
or
“Sort of makes you want to treat me with more respect, doesn't it?”
I never was a soccer mom, hippie, sorority girl or just about any other famous demographic. But ABC News (which shouldn’t have been on during dinner if I were part of the diligent mom sub-group) named me - and quite a few of you, too - as Persons of the Week.
You're an absolute mess! Just look at yourself!.....
......On the contraire. I didn't think I looked that good.
or
“Sort of makes you want to treat me with more respect, doesn't it?”
I never was a soccer mom, hippie, sorority girl or just about any other famous demographic. But ABC News (which shouldn’t have been on during dinner if I were part of the diligent mom sub-group) named me - and quite a few of you, too - as Persons of the Week.
You're an absolute mess! Just look at yourself!.....
......On the contraire. I didn't think I looked that good.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
To blog?
or not to blog? A ticklish question!
Am just so #*&@! irritable that I can’t find anything to write about. So.....do I write the truth? As if writing about it would help. (And let the rest of the world know what an ungrateful, hyper-sensitive piece of work I am) Or say nothing. In hopes that my mood will pass and I may also delude any readers into thinking that I am just a silent model of satisfied serenity.
Hmmm....
1) The fact that I enjoy my remunerative employment and that we really need the extra hours I am working right now should not have any bearing on the condition of the house when I return home in the evening. My leg hurts. I can’t get it fixed now. So you all will just have to bear with me and do some of the leg work. Just because I enjoy my job doesn’t mean I deserve to come home to a detailed recreation of the Phi Sigma Kappa house at the University of Minnesota circa 1976. You are all on double-secret probation.
2) So where’s my lanolin? I don’t mind sharing. Just leave the tube in my drawer. You all don’t know how lucky you were that I didn’t turn on all the lights at 5:30 this morning and go through the house (a la Joan Crawford with wire hangers) screaming, “Where’s my lanolin?” That was because my leg hurt. And I didn’t want to wake the dogs any earlier than necessary.
3) If I am asleep, leave me alone. I was asleep on the couch last evening because I was exhausted and your ailing sister was propped up in my bed watching TV and shedding viruses all over my room. Many thanks to Tommy G., the Princess’ beau, who said, “Bridget, leave your mom alone. I think she’s asleep.” Another good reason that Tom should marry Bridg - there will be at least one sane person at my wake who won’t try to get in a last word with me. Next year I must triple your oplatky!
4) Boys.....all you boys. Let’s get those garbage bags out of the basement. I don’t care who they belong to. Tonight is garbage night. None of this is heavy garbage......I am not worried about offending the fellows from Waste Management with an overload of lightweight, mostly paper, garbage. This is business, not personal. Rick, let’s stop with the profound empathy for the garbage men.
5) If Dad’s home, let’s not call the Church with problems he can manage. I certainly love you all, but if there is already a grown-up at home, don’t call me for things he can handle. Or look at it this way: Only call the rectory with things that you would call about if I weren’t there. That means no dog vomit, dictionary requests or menu complaints. If you wouldn’t leave it on Father’s voicemail reconsider why you have to take it up with his secretary.
6) I left $20 on the memo board. Somebody think about dinner. I'll do real marketing tomorrow. Just get us through tonight, OK? And because it's garbage night, this might be a good time to purge the fridge of suspect food. Did I mention the really, really old milk that I almost drank for breakfast?
Thanks for your patience. I feel so much better.
or not to blog? A ticklish question!
Am just so #*&@! irritable that I can’t find anything to write about. So.....do I write the truth? As if writing about it would help. (And let the rest of the world know what an ungrateful, hyper-sensitive piece of work I am) Or say nothing. In hopes that my mood will pass and I may also delude any readers into thinking that I am just a silent model of satisfied serenity.
Hmmm....
1) The fact that I enjoy my remunerative employment and that we really need the extra hours I am working right now should not have any bearing on the condition of the house when I return home in the evening. My leg hurts. I can’t get it fixed now. So you all will just have to bear with me and do some of the leg work. Just because I enjoy my job doesn’t mean I deserve to come home to a detailed recreation of the Phi Sigma Kappa house at the University of Minnesota circa 1976. You are all on double-secret probation.
2) So where’s my lanolin? I don’t mind sharing. Just leave the tube in my drawer. You all don’t know how lucky you were that I didn’t turn on all the lights at 5:30 this morning and go through the house (a la Joan Crawford with wire hangers) screaming, “Where’s my lanolin?” That was because my leg hurt. And I didn’t want to wake the dogs any earlier than necessary.
3) If I am asleep, leave me alone. I was asleep on the couch last evening because I was exhausted and your ailing sister was propped up in my bed watching TV and shedding viruses all over my room. Many thanks to Tommy G., the Princess’ beau, who said, “Bridget, leave your mom alone. I think she’s asleep.” Another good reason that Tom should marry Bridg - there will be at least one sane person at my wake who won’t try to get in a last word with me. Next year I must triple your oplatky!
4) Boys.....all you boys. Let’s get those garbage bags out of the basement. I don’t care who they belong to. Tonight is garbage night. None of this is heavy garbage......I am not worried about offending the fellows from Waste Management with an overload of lightweight, mostly paper, garbage. This is business, not personal. Rick, let’s stop with the profound empathy for the garbage men.
5) If Dad’s home, let’s not call the Church with problems he can manage. I certainly love you all, but if there is already a grown-up at home, don’t call me for things he can handle. Or look at it this way: Only call the rectory with things that you would call about if I weren’t there. That means no dog vomit, dictionary requests or menu complaints. If you wouldn’t leave it on Father’s voicemail reconsider why you have to take it up with his secretary.
6) I left $20 on the memo board. Somebody think about dinner. I'll do real marketing tomorrow. Just get us through tonight, OK? And because it's garbage night, this might be a good time to purge the fridge of suspect food. Did I mention the really, really old milk that I almost drank for breakfast?
Thanks for your patience. I feel so much better.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Not on Smith Ave.
Not this week.
Study charts expansion of human brain
The first study of genes that build and operate the brain shows that humans underwent a unique period of rapid brain expansion that endowed them with a special form of intelligence not shared by any other animal...
only to be fixed with the antidote of video games, cheese popcorn and lots of chocolates.
Not this week.
Study charts expansion of human brain
The first study of genes that build and operate the brain shows that humans underwent a unique period of rapid brain expansion that endowed them with a special form of intelligence not shared by any other animal...
only to be fixed with the antidote of video games, cheese popcorn and lots of chocolates.
I get no kick from champagne!
But I felt that cork graze me on its way to hitting the sign on the wall. So much for enjoying an after dinner drink with my older girls. They could have shot my eye out. Or worse.
But now they have some respect for the towel over the cork trick. It’s not just for show.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Reggie White, R.I.P.
Get Religion on a sports personality who was not a “personality.”*
*”But if, from now on, I can put “personality” between quotation marks, and use it as an exact synonym of a seven-letter duosyllable starting with “a” and ending with “e” (and also featuring, in order of appearance, an “ss.” an “h,” an “o”, and and “l”)...” from Tennis Personalities by Martin Amis originally published in The New Yorker in 1994.
Get Religion on a sports personality who was not a “personality.”*
*”But if, from now on, I can put “personality” between quotation marks, and use it as an exact synonym of a seven-letter duosyllable starting with “a” and ending with “e” (and also featuring, in order of appearance, an “ss.” an “h,” an “o”, and and “l”)...” from Tennis Personalities by Martin Amis originally published in The New Yorker in 1994.
Every party has a pooper.
I think I'm being quite charitable here. The morning news has mentioned the search for an official Ilinois state reptile...and I'm not even mentioning any names.
I think I'm being quite charitable here. The morning news has mentioned the search for an official Ilinois state reptile...and I'm not even mentioning any names.
Monday, December 27, 2004
Dear Bessie Beagle
If a woman named Brenda calls while I’m out, please ‘talk’ with her. She is going to help facilitate some open communication on the subject of the occasional puddles on the oriental rug. And let you know how very proud Daddy and I are that you haven’t eaten any ornaments this Christmas. Just prop the phone on the couch and press the button on the left. Don’t forget to hang-up when you are done.
I believe that Communication is Key to our relationships with our animal friends and that every relationship can become more rewarding if all parties understand each other. If you are in need of an animal communicator, please call us.
Hilarious link via Fr. Sibley.
If a woman named Brenda calls while I’m out, please ‘talk’ with her. She is going to help facilitate some open communication on the subject of the occasional puddles on the oriental rug. And let you know how very proud Daddy and I are that you haven’t eaten any ornaments this Christmas. Just prop the phone on the couch and press the button on the left. Don’t forget to hang-up when you are done.
I believe that Communication is Key to our relationships with our animal friends and that every relationship can become more rewarding if all parties understand each other. If you are in need of an animal communicator, please call us.
Hilarious link via Fr. Sibley.
Friday, December 24, 2004
An epiphany...
...of sorts. I was driving to work yesterday, thinking about all the things I needed to accomplish by Christmas. How I haven’t baked anything special, I still haven’t finished tweaking the Christmas tree just right, and though I’m fortunate to have gifts to give, the time to wrap them still has not been found. So I’m thinking about how, just once, I would like to have a Christmas where I could pull of everything gracefully ...with Martha Stewart-ish aplomb. And then I thought that maybe that would not be in my best interest. Maybe it is the chaos, the missing tape while wrapping, the lost ingredient while baking at the 11th hour (and I mean, quite literally 2300 hours) and all the other little snafus that keep me focused on the ‘real meaning of Christmas.’ Perhaps I would be too quick to find false consolation in beautifully wrapped gifts and lovely gingerbread stars decorated with homemade butter cream icing topped with silver (yes, silver!) sugar from Williams-Sonoma.
And sitting in front of a (clean for once) and well decorated hearth, sipping mulled cider and listening to The Nutcracker , my heart and mind would be a million miles from the true consolation....Christus natus est
...of sorts. I was driving to work yesterday, thinking about all the things I needed to accomplish by Christmas. How I haven’t baked anything special, I still haven’t finished tweaking the Christmas tree just right, and though I’m fortunate to have gifts to give, the time to wrap them still has not been found. So I’m thinking about how, just once, I would like to have a Christmas where I could pull of everything gracefully ...with Martha Stewart-ish aplomb. And then I thought that maybe that would not be in my best interest. Maybe it is the chaos, the missing tape while wrapping, the lost ingredient while baking at the 11th hour (and I mean, quite literally 2300 hours) and all the other little snafus that keep me focused on the ‘real meaning of Christmas.’ Perhaps I would be too quick to find false consolation in beautifully wrapped gifts and lovely gingerbread stars decorated with homemade butter cream icing topped with silver (yes, silver!) sugar from Williams-Sonoma.
And sitting in front of a (clean for once) and well decorated hearth, sipping mulled cider and listening to The Nutcracker , my heart and mind would be a million miles from the true consolation....Christus natus est
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Just imagine - 24 timeless standards, including the classic "Carol Of Intimacy":
"Leave me alone! Please go away!
I'm doing fine! Just get away!
"Leave me alone! Please go away!
I'm doing fine! Just get away!
"Leave me alone! Please go away!
I'm doing fine! Just get away!"
"DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY CHRISTMAS - $19.95 - 1-800-GET-HELP"
The Carol of the Bells is one of my favorites. But I find myself singing these words (albeit under my breath) around the 22nd of December. Life is marvelous...but I need a little more ‘wiggle’ time. And sleep time. I woke up at three in the morning and realized that I could smell the newly trimmed Christmas tree. This tree is the biggest, best, most beautiful ever. I say that every year. But this time it is true. The big part is objective; an actual fact. It looked big on the lot, but when the limbs relaxed in the house is got bigger. There is now room in the living room for any two family members and a dog or two.
Oh, well, time for work. Will finish decorating the tree tonight. (ran out of energy before we got to the hundred pieces of tinsel and the Victorian reproduction cardboard ornaments.) Today the challenge is to answer the phone at work (90% of the calls are Christmas Eve Mass time questions) cheerfully....with no hint of “Leave me alone! Please go away!”
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Hey, wait......I’m from Wisconsin.....
Weird WisconsinWhen you go looking for the Weird,
the Weird also comes looking for you.
However, beneath this mundane reality lies something more mysterious, sinister, macabre. The outright weird comports with everyday reality, yet because this weirdness is seldom collated or even mentioned in contemporary media outlets, few know the true extent of The Weirdness That Lurks All Around Us.
I never knew. OK, I may have suspected. But I never knew. But before we write off Wisconsin, may I interject that Venerable Solanus Casey was also from Wisconsin. Born in Hudson, in fact.
Weird WisconsinWhen you go looking for the Weird,
the Weird also comes looking for you.
However, beneath this mundane reality lies something more mysterious, sinister, macabre. The outright weird comports with everyday reality, yet because this weirdness is seldom collated or even mentioned in contemporary media outlets, few know the true extent of The Weirdness That Lurks All Around Us.
I never knew. OK, I may have suspected. But I never knew. But before we write off Wisconsin, may I interject that Venerable Solanus Casey was also from Wisconsin. Born in Hudson, in fact.
It’s a Small (Tragic, Puzzling) World
My mind does not usually go spinning off after every scandalous Church story. But.... when Amy Welborn referred to this , my interest was stirred. Having spent some time in Hudson, I remember the strange murders at the funeral home just a few blocks from my sister’s house. At the time the going lurid theory was that the victims were chosen by some bizarro anti-embalming cult which had been sending threatening letters to funeral homes throughout the mid-west.
As part of the local legal community, I am sure my sister will have plenty of scoops. Along with some snarky comments. This is not going to help my evangelization efforts.
My mind does not usually go spinning off after every scandalous Church story. But.... when Amy Welborn referred to this , my interest was stirred. Having spent some time in Hudson, I remember the strange murders at the funeral home just a few blocks from my sister’s house. At the time the going lurid theory was that the victims were chosen by some bizarro anti-embalming cult which had been sending threatening letters to funeral homes throughout the mid-west.
As part of the local legal community, I am sure my sister will have plenty of scoops. Along with some snarky comments. This is not going to help my evangelization efforts.
Monday, December 20, 2004
One last quiz......before getting to work
Link via Fr. Tucker.
 | You scored as alternative. You're partially respected for being an individual in a conformist world yet others take you as a radical. You have no place in society because you choose not to belong there - you're the luckiest of them all, even if your parents are completely ashamed of you. Just don't take drugs ok?
What Social Status are you? created with QuizFarm.com |
Link via Fr. Tucker.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
IMAGINE...
No Imagine...?
Is it easy? Can I try?
Not as easy as I thought. Homeschooling frees us from the yearly ordeal of the “Winter” concert. Always with something heartwarming like a choral rendition of Dust in the Wind or sweet children’s voices raised to perform the nihilistic anthem ”Imagine.” So it was depressing the hear the heretofore seemingly sane DJ who hosts ‘Breakfast with the Beatles’ group “Imagine” with the Beatles’ songs that, though not Christmas songs per se, are beautiful enough to be included in the ‘Breakfast with the Beatles’ Christmas special. Helloooo......the tune is mediocre and the philosophy stinks.
What can the CDC do about those of us with congenital lack of willful suspension of disbelief?
Q: What is the risk of rabies from squirrels, mice, rats, and other rodents?
A: Small rodents (such as squirrels, rats, mice, hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils, and chipmunks, ) and lagomorphs (such as rabbits and hares) are almost never found to be infected with rabies and have not been known to cause rabies among humans in the United States.
And that, my friends, is why I couldn’t enjoy tonight’s Malcolm in the Middle. Squirrels are just not a major risk for rabies. Of course, the priests I know don’t go around threatening people who under-cut fund raisers, either. Otherwise it was a funny show.
Q: What is the risk of rabies from squirrels, mice, rats, and other rodents?
A: Small rodents (such as squirrels, rats, mice, hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils, and chipmunks, ) and lagomorphs (such as rabbits and hares) are almost never found to be infected with rabies and have not been known to cause rabies among humans in the United States.
And that, my friends, is why I couldn’t enjoy tonight’s Malcolm in the Middle. Squirrels are just not a major risk for rabies. Of course, the priests I know don’t go around threatening people who under-cut fund raisers, either. Otherwise it was a funny show.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
You are:
1) too tired to go Christmas shopping
2) just plain tired
3) averse to going out in blustery weather
4) irritable
5) fraught with working mother guilt
6) more interested in staying home and taking internet quizzes
7) all of the above
Link via Fructus Ventris.
1) too tired to go Christmas shopping
2) just plain tired
3) averse to going out in blustery weather
4) irritable
5) fraught with working mother guilt
6) more interested in staying home and taking internet quizzes
7) all of the above
|
Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence |
 You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well. An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly. You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view. A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary. You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator. |
Link via Fructus Ventris.
Just to mess with the Google searches...
It's time to mention "hand tooled reproduction Victorian tinsel."
Actually, it is also time to buy a tree and find the ornament boxes. And aforementioned tinsel. I believe all one hundred pieces were accounted for when we took the tree down last January. As if I couldn't find enough other things to kvetch about, I am a slave to decorating my tree with one hundred pieces of tinsel that must be hung one at a time. My mother used to be so annoyed by my childhood habit of applying tinsel by heaving big handfuls at the tree. Wish she could be here to see my reward.
It's time to mention "hand tooled reproduction Victorian tinsel."
Actually, it is also time to buy a tree and find the ornament boxes. And aforementioned tinsel. I believe all one hundred pieces were accounted for when we took the tree down last January. As if I couldn't find enough other things to kvetch about, I am a slave to decorating my tree with one hundred pieces of tinsel that must be hung one at a time. My mother used to be so annoyed by my childhood habit of applying tinsel by heaving big handfuls at the tree. Wish she could be here to see my reward.
I am NOT a sociopath.
Really.
Claim: A one-item psych test will reveal the psychopaths in your life.
Status: False.
So over lunch at work yesterday I was the only one to give the ‘sociopathic’ answer. I’m glad this is an urban myth. It was starting to bother me. (If I were a sociopath, would I be bothered? I don’t think so.) Next time one of the fathers tells a joke, I won’t be so quick to pipe up with the goofy, obvious answer. Really.
Really.
Claim: A one-item psych test will reveal the psychopaths in your life.
Status: False.
So over lunch at work yesterday I was the only one to give the ‘sociopathic’ answer. I’m glad this is an urban myth. It was starting to bother me. (If I were a sociopath, would I be bothered? I don’t think so.) Next time one of the fathers tells a joke, I won’t be so quick to pipe up with the goofy, obvious answer. Really.
Prickly.....very Prickly
You are the Christmas Holly.
What Christmas Ornament are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are the Christmas Holly.
What Christmas Ornament are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
| You are 53% geek | You are a geek. Good for you! Considering the endless complexity of the universe, as well as whatever discipline you happen to be most interested in, you'll never be bored as long as you have a good book store, a net connection, and thousands of dollars worth of expensive equipment. Assuming you're a technical geek, you'll be able to afford it, too. If you're not a technical geek, you're geek enough to mate with a technical geek and thereby get the needed dough. Dating tip: Don't date a geek of the same persuasion as you. You'll constantly try to out-geek the other. |
Take the Polygeek Quiz at Thudfactor.com
I got this link from one of my regular blog-stops. But I can't remember which....Sorry.
Everybody in America was supposed to grab whatever he could and hold onto it. Some Americans were very good at grabbing and holding, were fabulously well-to-do. Others couldn’t get their hands on doodley-squat.Amy Welborn has nice discussion going in her comments about the pros and cons of recommending Kurt Vonnegut to young readers. Not children, mind you. Young readers. Not all commenters agree with my estimation of Breakfast of Champions as a great book. OK, not a great book. Let’s call it an interesting book. I still like it after all these years.
Guess Who Came to Dinner
or
Some days you do get a head
I may have previously mentioned that I have a yearly nightmare (usually in late summer) in which I find myself on December 24 with no Christmas decorations, presents, cookies, etc. In this hideous dream I spend a whole day trying to do it all. This could explain why I found John Grisham’s Skipping Christmas to be a book in the genre that my late mother defined as ‘supposed to be funny but it makes me nervous.’ (My mother left the theatre after seeing the original Out of Towners with a bad headache and a sick stomach.) Yesterday found me inching closer to the reality of that dream as I pondered in (rare) quiet moments about all that is not done. My spiritual director asked me if I was ready for Christmas; I could answer a sincere, “spiritually, yes.” He was not especially concerned that I have not finished decorating, shopping, have baked nothing, have not yet purchased a tree or parchment paper for baking meringues or plotted Christmas Eve dinner. But those thoughts kept creeping back in. I noticed that I was often mumbling to myself that “I just can’t get ahead.”
By the time I got home from work - not ahead, but sort of current, if you don’t count the crisis in lining up altar servers - I was ready to plotz. It had been a crazy day at home, too. The usual plus Cody, the Austarlian Shepherd/Chow had two seizures and wound up on an IV at Fran’s work. Rough on Cody, the family and not particularly kind to the oriental rug, either. I brought home a box with a (backordered from August) statue of St. Nicholas. A week and a half late, but the price was right. When we unpacked it, taking great care not to let the remaining dogs eat the packing peanuts, I was surprised to see that the good bishop had no miter and appeared to be clutching the keys to the Kingdom. Yesirreee, the box was marked with the St. Nicholas code number but contained St. Peter. I'm too weak to send him back. What the heck, he only cost 2.99...the shipping charges to send him back would be more than that. Maybe I'll just try to re-order St. Nicholas for next year. But wait.....there were more surprises ahead.
Rick ran out for pizza and we had a fun dinner with most of the kids and Embot and Ed. When I saw Ed walk in carrying what appeared to be a small hat box, I knew we would be having an educational evening.
Some weeks ago, Em had mentioned that Ed was assigned a human skull as part of his dental studies. After some thought and prayer, I said it might be interesting for the boys to see it. As part of their anatomy study - not just as a novelty thing. When the moment came - which we handled as reverently as possible - Eddie was quite interested, yet Chuck demurred. I was not about to force the issue. (I can see that as fodder for future psychiatrist visits. “Yes, doctor, we were having a lovely dinner and then after the light dessert the table was cleared and my mother made me examine a human skull. Right there on the green damask table cloth with the holly leaf patter. A human skull.”) It was really quite an experience. I was caught between reminding them to treat it with respect due to human remains and to be careful not to break it. The cranial sutures were a little wobbly in places, being the skull of a man who died in his twenties....and has been the study aid to several decades of dental students.
After the gravitas of that event, I was not particularly disposed to go to the mall to complete my shopping. I put on my jammies, said a prayer for the repose of the soul of Mr. X - the man who came to dinner, and settled in for some needed sleep. Feeling refreshed today, I can honestly say I got a head and I’m getting ahead.
or
Some days you do get a head
I may have previously mentioned that I have a yearly nightmare (usually in late summer) in which I find myself on December 24 with no Christmas decorations, presents, cookies, etc. In this hideous dream I spend a whole day trying to do it all. This could explain why I found John Grisham’s Skipping Christmas to be a book in the genre that my late mother defined as ‘supposed to be funny but it makes me nervous.’ (My mother left the theatre after seeing the original Out of Towners with a bad headache and a sick stomach.) Yesterday found me inching closer to the reality of that dream as I pondered in (rare) quiet moments about all that is not done. My spiritual director asked me if I was ready for Christmas; I could answer a sincere, “spiritually, yes.” He was not especially concerned that I have not finished decorating, shopping, have baked nothing, have not yet purchased a tree or parchment paper for baking meringues or plotted Christmas Eve dinner. But those thoughts kept creeping back in. I noticed that I was often mumbling to myself that “I just can’t get ahead.”
By the time I got home from work - not ahead, but sort of current, if you don’t count the crisis in lining up altar servers - I was ready to plotz. It had been a crazy day at home, too. The usual plus Cody, the Austarlian Shepherd/Chow had two seizures and wound up on an IV at Fran’s work. Rough on Cody, the family and not particularly kind to the oriental rug, either. I brought home a box with a (backordered from August) statue of St. Nicholas. A week and a half late, but the price was right. When we unpacked it, taking great care not to let the remaining dogs eat the packing peanuts, I was surprised to see that the good bishop had no miter and appeared to be clutching the keys to the Kingdom. Yesirreee, the box was marked with the St. Nicholas code number but contained St. Peter. I'm too weak to send him back. What the heck, he only cost 2.99...the shipping charges to send him back would be more than that. Maybe I'll just try to re-order St. Nicholas for next year. But wait.....there were more surprises ahead.
Rick ran out for pizza and we had a fun dinner with most of the kids and Embot and Ed. When I saw Ed walk in carrying what appeared to be a small hat box, I knew we would be having an educational evening.
Some weeks ago, Em had mentioned that Ed was assigned a human skull as part of his dental studies. After some thought and prayer, I said it might be interesting for the boys to see it. As part of their anatomy study - not just as a novelty thing. When the moment came - which we handled as reverently as possible - Eddie was quite interested, yet Chuck demurred. I was not about to force the issue. (I can see that as fodder for future psychiatrist visits. “Yes, doctor, we were having a lovely dinner and then after the light dessert the table was cleared and my mother made me examine a human skull. Right there on the green damask table cloth with the holly leaf patter. A human skull.”) It was really quite an experience. I was caught between reminding them to treat it with respect due to human remains and to be careful not to break it. The cranial sutures were a little wobbly in places, being the skull of a man who died in his twenties....and has been the study aid to several decades of dental students.
After the gravitas of that event, I was not particularly disposed to go to the mall to complete my shopping. I put on my jammies, said a prayer for the repose of the soul of Mr. X - the man who came to dinner, and settled in for some needed sleep. Feeling refreshed today, I can honestly say I got a head and I’m getting ahead.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
An open letter...
to the parents of our altar servers.
(n.b. - I’m venting the ol’ spleen here because I can’t at work. There I am paid to be nice and tactful and after all, I am working for God. But here’s what I’m thinking... And if you have a vague feeling that I may have written something similar at Easter, you may be right!)
I’m sorry I have ruined your Christmas plans. There can only be so many servers scheduled per Mass. By asking your son to serve at the 4:00pm Christmas Eve Mass in the gym (really, I don’t like Mass in the gym either.....but if I’m told to be there as a lector, I go) when you all would rather be at the Mass in the church, I am just doing my job. I am not trying to balkanize your family. I know Mass together as a family is your long-standing tradtion, but if your son is a server he isn’t sitting with you anyway. So why not let him serve twenty yards away - across the parking lot. Being an altar server is a service to the Church. Service can mean sacrifice. Is this such a tremendous sacrifice? We’re trying to see that the Mass is celebrated reverently and beautifully, not create a picture Christmas memory for you. If sending your son to serve at an unconvenient time or place is so upsetting, how will you feel if he joins the military, seminary, Doctors without Borders, etc.? I suppose this isn’t a good time to tell you that we need lots of servers at 7:30 Christmas morning. And at 5 other Masses on December 26. Please don’t bite my head off.....I need it to finish my job. And my Christmas shopping...
Oh...and while I'm at it...a surprising number of your fellow parishioners have had children (age pre-born to adult) die during the past year. They are the ones that are in need of sympathy. I may understand your dilemma, but I don't feel particularly sorry for you, OK?
to the parents of our altar servers.
(n.b. - I’m venting the ol’ spleen here because I can’t at work. There I am paid to be nice and tactful and after all, I am working for God. But here’s what I’m thinking... And if you have a vague feeling that I may have written something similar at Easter, you may be right!)
I’m sorry I have ruined your Christmas plans. There can only be so many servers scheduled per Mass. By asking your son to serve at the 4:00pm Christmas Eve Mass in the gym (really, I don’t like Mass in the gym either.....but if I’m told to be there as a lector, I go) when you all would rather be at the Mass in the church, I am just doing my job. I am not trying to balkanize your family. I know Mass together as a family is your long-standing tradtion, but if your son is a server he isn’t sitting with you anyway. So why not let him serve twenty yards away - across the parking lot. Being an altar server is a service to the Church. Service can mean sacrifice. Is this such a tremendous sacrifice? We’re trying to see that the Mass is celebrated reverently and beautifully, not create a picture Christmas memory for you. If sending your son to serve at an unconvenient time or place is so upsetting, how will you feel if he joins the military, seminary, Doctors without Borders, etc.? I suppose this isn’t a good time to tell you that we need lots of servers at 7:30 Christmas morning. And at 5 other Masses on December 26. Please don’t bite my head off.....I need it to finish my job. And my Christmas shopping...
Oh...and while I'm at it...a surprising number of your fellow parishioners have had children (age pre-born to adult) die during the past year. They are the ones that are in need of sympathy. I may understand your dilemma, but I don't feel particularly sorry for you, OK?
They also serve who stand....
and stand and stand...
Martha went on a field trip to the Milwaukee Art Museum yesterday. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there. There are a few items from their collection that I remember clearly. Some great Winslow Homers and a Duane Hanson sculpture of a janitor. He really ‘surprised’ me the first time I saw him, some 30 years ago. I asked Marth if she saw the janitor and she let out a little scream. The fact that she was creeped out and asked why I didn’t warn her is good reason not to have mentioned it in advance.
and stand and stand...
Martha went on a field trip to the Milwaukee Art Museum yesterday. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there. There are a few items from their collection that I remember clearly. Some great Winslow Homers and a Duane Hanson sculpture of a janitor. He really ‘surprised’ me the first time I saw him, some 30 years ago. I asked Marth if she saw the janitor and she let out a little scream. The fact that she was creeped out and asked why I didn’t warn her is good reason not to have mentioned it in advance.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
A few tactical errors.
1. Going to Target for Christmas shopping at 5:00PM. It’s not their fault that they were dragged there by parents when their blood sugar and patience were low. It’s not their fault that I tend to want to answer anyone who yells, “Mom.” By the 80,000th MOM I was ready to be sedated. I’m trying not to think about the man with the malfunctioning cell phone who was walking around saying, “Hello, hello, hello...”
2. Wearing a red shirt and khaki pants. Though I think I was more helpful to the people who asked me for assistance than some of the employees. Specifically the three ‘sales associates’ blocking the aisle in toys while talking about someone’s arraigment. I don’t think the perp in question was one of the action figures.
3. Asking for a price check on a pair of khaki pants that were on the 50% off rack. Sorry lady, I just wanted to verify the price. I wasn’t trying to steal them. And I really don’t need my ego stroked while shopping....but your impromptu lecture on misplaced merchandise was a tad embarassing and it held up the line. If looks could kill, the eight shoppers behind me wanted the both of us dead. And out of the way.
1. Going to Target for Christmas shopping at 5:00PM. It’s not their fault that they were dragged there by parents when their blood sugar and patience were low. It’s not their fault that I tend to want to answer anyone who yells, “Mom.” By the 80,000th MOM I was ready to be sedated. I’m trying not to think about the man with the malfunctioning cell phone who was walking around saying, “Hello, hello, hello...”
2. Wearing a red shirt and khaki pants. Though I think I was more helpful to the people who asked me for assistance than some of the employees. Specifically the three ‘sales associates’ blocking the aisle in toys while talking about someone’s arraigment. I don’t think the perp in question was one of the action figures.
3. Asking for a price check on a pair of khaki pants that were on the 50% off rack. Sorry lady, I just wanted to verify the price. I wasn’t trying to steal them. And I really don’t need my ego stroked while shopping....but your impromptu lecture on misplaced merchandise was a tad embarassing and it held up the line. If looks could kill, the eight shoppers behind me wanted the both of us dead. And out of the way.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Sure...if I look in a foggy mirror with one eye, squinting.
You have the Rossetti girl look. You are the kind
of girl pre-Raphaelite painters admired; tall,
slender, and fair as a lily flower. The
pre-Raphaelite girl had dramatic beauty; long
neck, large soulful eyes, full shapely mouth
and masses of wavy hair. The pre-Raphaelites
painted girls like this, they showed them in
dramatic situations dressed as famous
characters in legends, plays and poetry. The
favourite colours of the artists were russet,
green and gold. The following artists would
have loved to paint you; Holman Hunt, John
Everett Millais, Edward Burne-Jones, William
Morris and Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
'Pretty As A Picture' - Which Artist Would Paint You?
brought to you by Quizilla
You have the Rossetti girl look. You are the kind
of girl pre-Raphaelite painters admired; tall,
slender, and fair as a lily flower. The
pre-Raphaelite girl had dramatic beauty; long
neck, large soulful eyes, full shapely mouth
and masses of wavy hair. The pre-Raphaelites
painted girls like this, they showed them in
dramatic situations dressed as famous
characters in legends, plays and poetry. The
favourite colours of the artists were russet,
green and gold. The following artists would
have loved to paint you; Holman Hunt, John
Everett Millais, Edward Burne-Jones, William
Morris and Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
'Pretty As A Picture' - Which Artist Would Paint You?
brought to you by Quizilla
From The Ascent of Mount Carmel; Book Two Chapter 11 by St. John of the Cross 6. The reason is that if the corporeal vision or feeling in the senses has a divine origin it produces its effect in the spirit at the very moment of its perception, without allowing any deliberation about wanting or not wanting it. This is likewise so with the more interior communications. Since God grants these favors without the individual’s own ability and effort, he causes the desired effect of these favors without this ability and effort since he produce the effect passively in the spirit. The good effect accordingly, does not depend on one’s wanting or not wanting the communication.
So, I’m thinking, here’s the danger in becoming attached to and pursuing more of any visions or feelings.... An efficacious fluoride treatment provided by one’s dentist tastes pepperminty. The good effect of the treatment has nothing to do with the peppermint taste. The salutary effect is there, yet is not noticeable to the senses. So it would be foolish to be in search of peppermint. That minty fresh taste may come along at times, but that does not mean it is linked to dental benefits - it could in fact be linked with that which could be detrimental. Candy canes, Altoids, and schnapps may all taste just like the treatment your dentist gives you, but they are not what the doctor ordered.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Those harmful Christmas myths...
I’m not worried about kids growing with feelings of betrayal and confusion from Santa. I think a lot of damage is being done by TV ads that depict luxury cars showing up with big red bows and women ecstatic over the gift of diamonds. This is all rather goofy and amusing to me, but I wonder how many girls are growing up thinking that the measure of a good husband is his ability to produce a luxury car or a splooey piece of jewelry. Let’s not even talk about the toxic effects of the BMW ad with the woman bragging about what she is getting from ‘herself’ this year. Humbug!
I’m not worried about kids growing with feelings of betrayal and confusion from Santa. I think a lot of damage is being done by TV ads that depict luxury cars showing up with big red bows and women ecstatic over the gift of diamonds. This is all rather goofy and amusing to me, but I wonder how many girls are growing up thinking that the measure of a good husband is his ability to produce a luxury car or a splooey piece of jewelry. Let’s not even talk about the toxic effects of the BMW ad with the woman bragging about what she is getting from ‘herself’ this year. Humbug!
"It tastes like ... burning"Advent safety tip:
If you want to be sure the Advent wreath candles have been extinguished, do it yourself. Oh, well, Martha came home from work just in time to blow them out with enough left for minimal use next week. Minimal. With a laughable size gap between #4 and the rest.
Libera nos a mallows....
and double fudge brownies, chocolate covered cashews, cake, lots of cake. This is a dangerous time of year as loads of goodies descend upon the rectory. Self-control is in high demand. Or perhaps we could just post signs that say, “PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE HELP!”
...and treacly music.
The saccharin Little Drummer Boy is one of my least favorite Christmas songs. But I did hear a listenable version by Michael McDermott on the radio early this morning.
and double fudge brownies, chocolate covered cashews, cake, lots of cake. This is a dangerous time of year as loads of goodies descend upon the rectory. Self-control is in high demand. Or perhaps we could just post signs that say, “PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE HELP!”
...and treacly music.
The saccharin Little Drummer Boy is one of my least favorite Christmas songs. But I did hear a listenable version by Michael McDermott on the radio early this morning.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Intense, but easy-to-learn game play: heroes’ actions are governed by stats on army cards indicating movement, range, armor, attack powers and more.
Easy if you are an 11 year-old boy. Not so easy if you are close to 50 and have used all of your strategic powers on scheduling altar servers for the next three months. I’ll try again, Eddie. I’m sure I am educable.
Let's start with a quick image association. What company's hallmark is a robin's-egg-blue box?
Did Audrey Hepburn just flash through your mind?
What are some of the words you associate with the blue box? How about luxury, exclusivity, expensive, and desire?Unless your Mom works in a church. Then a blue box means something off the bargain rack (repackaged in a Barton-Cotton Mass card box).
Did Audrey Hepburn just flash through your mind?
What are some of the words you associate with the blue box? How about luxury, exclusivity, expensive, and desire?Unless your Mom works in a church. Then a blue box means something off the bargain rack (repackaged in a Barton-Cotton Mass card box).
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Frankly, I’m shocked.
"It wasn't really a prank. I was just walking around the city and bored. It wasn't premeditated.”
Not shocked that some jerk would walk off with a statue of the baby Jesus from the creche in Daley Plaza. (And what was the baby Jesus doing in the creche the second Sunday in Advent?) I am shocked that a student at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago couldn’t come up with a better excuse than, “I was bored.” He didn’t even try to pass his moronic prank as ‘performance art.’ Unless the bored stuff is part of the performance.
Perhaps we should send him hints of fun things to do when bored. For example...
#152 - mix vinegar and baking soda to make a kitchen sink volcano
#75 - ‘sew’ your fingers together by running a thread under the top layer of skin. Show parents and friends for maximum gross-out value
#92 - walk the dog
#2 - clean your room
#48 - do something kind for somebody
#5 - do something kind for somebody you don’t know
or......(and I’m quoting my late parents here...)
#1 - read a book - “you’ve got a house full of books, there is a library full of books downtown - how can you say you are bored?”
Central District Capt. James Knightly said he asked the Texas resident how he'd like it if "we came and messed with the Alamo." Capt. Knightly has more imagination than the young ‘artiste.’
"It wasn't really a prank. I was just walking around the city and bored. It wasn't premeditated.”
Not shocked that some jerk would walk off with a statue of the baby Jesus from the creche in Daley Plaza. (And what was the baby Jesus doing in the creche the second Sunday in Advent?) I am shocked that a student at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago couldn’t come up with a better excuse than, “I was bored.” He didn’t even try to pass his moronic prank as ‘performance art.’ Unless the bored stuff is part of the performance.
Perhaps we should send him hints of fun things to do when bored. For example...
#152 - mix vinegar and baking soda to make a kitchen sink volcano
#75 - ‘sew’ your fingers together by running a thread under the top layer of skin. Show parents and friends for maximum gross-out value
#92 - walk the dog
#2 - clean your room
#48 - do something kind for somebody
#5 - do something kind for somebody you don’t know
or......(and I’m quoting my late parents here...)
#1 - read a book - “you’ve got a house full of books, there is a library full of books downtown - how can you say you are bored?”
Central District Capt. James Knightly said he asked the Texas resident how he'd like it if "we came and messed with the Alamo." Capt. Knightly has more imagination than the young ‘artiste.’
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Another scathingly brilliant idea...
The Lady in the Pew’s post about ‘ministry’ came to mind several times in the past week. When a bunch of us were changing the missalettes, when volunteers show up on short notice to get out a mailing, when I see the devotion of a friend of the pastor’s who does a lot of secretarial work for him - gratis... So I think......these people need a ministry. The problem is that those lovely plastic badges that ‘ministers’ wear (at about $9 a piece - don’t even get me started) can accomodate a limited number of letters. That makes the official “St. -----’s Ministry of Sonofabitchin’ thankless jobs that have to get done and we do out of love” badge a bit of a stretch. If these people don’t get a badge, how will they continue in their ministry? How, I ask you?
The Lady in the Pew’s post about ‘ministry’ came to mind several times in the past week. When a bunch of us were changing the missalettes, when volunteers show up on short notice to get out a mailing, when I see the devotion of a friend of the pastor’s who does a lot of secretarial work for him - gratis... So I think......these people need a ministry. The problem is that those lovely plastic badges that ‘ministers’ wear (at about $9 a piece - don’t even get me started) can accomodate a limited number of letters. That makes the official “St. -----’s Ministry of Sonofabitchin’ thankless jobs that have to get done and we do out of love” badge a bit of a stretch. If these people don’t get a badge, how will they continue in their ministry? How, I ask you?
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
For once Chuck wasn’t kidding!
Anytime I miss Jeopardy, I ask Chuck for an update. He has been telling me “Ken Jennings lost,” since long before the rumors that his taped ‘demise’ was on the way. So, of course, when I asked Chuck yesterday, I didn’t believe him. Ken Jennings really did lose. Chuck said Ken burst into tears and then took a swing at Alex Trebek. What a kidder. I hope.
Anytime I miss Jeopardy, I ask Chuck for an update. He has been telling me “Ken Jennings lost,” since long before the rumors that his taped ‘demise’ was on the way. So, of course, when I asked Chuck yesterday, I didn’t believe him. Ken Jennings really did lose. Chuck said Ken burst into tears and then took a swing at Alex Trebek. What a kidder. I hope.
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