Finally...now we know!
How late is late? - 10 minutes, 17 seconds.
Bonnie Tyler’s Iconic 1980s Big Hair
12 hours ago
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
Blessed are the merciful:
And that, dearest Embot, is why I did not call you at 6:00 o’clock this morning. I could have. In fact, I started to dial your number. But then I envisioned a more perfect world. One in which we all respect the circadian rhythms of our brothers and sisters. A world in which a woman who is asleep at 9:00 o’clock Sunday night is not lazy...nor is her daughter though she is asleep at 6:00AM on her day off.
And that, dearest Embot, is why I did not call you at 6:00 o’clock this morning. I could have. In fact, I started to dial your number. But then I envisioned a more perfect world. One in which we all respect the circadian rhythms of our brothers and sisters. A world in which a woman who is asleep at 9:00 o’clock Sunday night is not lazy...nor is her daughter though she is asleep at 6:00AM on her day off.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
”Girls who came out of Barat,’ says a woman who did not, ‘have a certain confidence just because they went to an upper class Catholic school. They all have this confidence – even when they shouldn’t.”
Yesterday was the feast day of St. Madeleine Sophie Barat. There was the annual Mass and reception at Barat. Perhaps the last.
Maybe get a blister on your little finger...
Maybe get a blister on your thumb
Really do love my job. But I’m wishing I had taken to heart the advice of my mother, father, primary school teachers, Mr. Steffen - the principal, and so on. They all told me I’d be sorry if I didn’t learn to hold a writing implement properly. OK...so I’m sorry. Two-thirds of the way through entering this year’s First Communicants and Confirmandi and my digits are killin’ me. I shall consider my ‘pencil bump’ a sign that I’m suffering for my art - just like a dancer with battered feet.
Maybe get a blister on your thumb
Really do love my job. But I’m wishing I had taken to heart the advice of my mother, father, primary school teachers, Mr. Steffen - the principal, and so on. They all told me I’d be sorry if I didn’t learn to hold a writing implement properly. OK...so I’m sorry. Two-thirds of the way through entering this year’s First Communicants and Confirmandi and my digits are killin’ me. I shall consider my ‘pencil bump’ a sign that I’m suffering for my art - just like a dancer with battered feet.
A game everybody is playing!
I’ve seen it everywhere, so I’m stuck as to attribution…
A is for Age - 50
B is for Booze – Rarely. But if I must, make it Champagne.
C is for Career - mom
D is for Dad’s name - Loren
E is for Essential items to bring to a party – Sense of humor.
F is for Favorite song at the moment – Jesus, Etc. by Wilco
H is for Hometown – Cedarburg, WI
I is for Instrument you play – I used to play the clarinet. Used to.
J is for Jam or Jelly you like - Apricot
K is for Kids - 6
L is for Living arrangement – 3 bedroom duplex (+ 2 improvised extra bedrooms) for assorted children, pets and books. Exquisitely decorated.
M is for Mom’s name - Isabel
N is for Names of best friends – You know who you are.
O is for overnight hospital stays – 2 tonsillectomies, a cholecystectomy, some odd diseases that they actually hospitalized kids for in the 1960’s, 3 baby deliveries (the others were 2 drive-thrus and a homebirth.)
P is for Phobias – Disorder.
Q is for Quote you like – “Never let anyone outside the family know what you're thinking.” Don Corleone in the original Godfather. Good advice. Which I violate daily. Right here.
R is for Relationship that lasted longest – What do you mean by relationship? I’ve known my sister since 1959. Then there’s Todd, my fifth grade boyfriend who I still talk to from time to time. And I have been married almost 27 years.
S is for Siblings – 1 Sister.
U is for Unique trait – Almost ‘photogiraffic pimento’ –(i.e. – our own idiomatic expression for better than average memory)
V if for Vegetable you love - Asparagus
W is for Worst trait - Pride
X - is for XRays you’ve had – Everything. Especially the teeth. Lots of teeth.
Y is for Yummy food you make – Raspberry meringue puffs.
Z is for Zodiac sign – strictly piscatorial
I’ve seen it everywhere, so I’m stuck as to attribution…
A is for Age - 50
B is for Booze – Rarely. But if I must, make it Champagne.
C is for Career - mom
D is for Dad’s name - Loren
E is for Essential items to bring to a party – Sense of humor.
F is for Favorite song at the moment – Jesus, Etc. by Wilco
H is for Hometown – Cedarburg, WI
I is for Instrument you play – I used to play the clarinet. Used to.
J is for Jam or Jelly you like - Apricot
K is for Kids - 6
L is for Living arrangement – 3 bedroom duplex (+ 2 improvised extra bedrooms) for assorted children, pets and books. Exquisitely decorated.
M is for Mom’s name - Isabel
N is for Names of best friends – You know who you are.
O is for overnight hospital stays – 2 tonsillectomies, a cholecystectomy, some odd diseases that they actually hospitalized kids for in the 1960’s, 3 baby deliveries (the others were 2 drive-thrus and a homebirth.)
P is for Phobias – Disorder.
Q is for Quote you like – “Never let anyone outside the family know what you're thinking.” Don Corleone in the original Godfather. Good advice. Which I violate daily. Right here.
R is for Relationship that lasted longest – What do you mean by relationship? I’ve known my sister since 1959. Then there’s Todd, my fifth grade boyfriend who I still talk to from time to time. And I have been married almost 27 years.
S is for Siblings – 1 Sister.
U is for Unique trait – Almost ‘photogiraffic pimento’ –(i.e. – our own idiomatic expression for better than average memory)
V if for Vegetable you love - Asparagus
W is for Worst trait - Pride
X - is for XRays you’ve had – Everything. Especially the teeth. Lots of teeth.
Y is for Yummy food you make – Raspberry meringue puffs.
Z is for Zodiac sign – strictly piscatorial
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Perhaps I Must Return to School...
And for more earth shaking news, read the above link until you get to the paragraph Children Impact Sleep Duh.
And for more earth shaking news, read the above link until you get to the paragraph Children Impact Sleep Duh.
Monday, May 23, 2005
It was the best of week-ends...
It was the weirdest of week-ends. A young man from our parish, I think he was a class ahead of Embot, was ordained on Saturday. We attended his first Mass yesterday afternoon. What a beautiful experience! (Eddie’s allergy attack, intensified by incense, notwithstanding. So I forgot the pre-emptive drugs. Sue me.) Before Mass began, one of our associates tapped Chuck and Eddie on the back and said, “You could be next!” It’s nice that they hear these things from others. ‘Cause the folks only count for so much.
I drifted off for a moment after Mass when the young priest was thanking his parents. They are such lovely people and I was so pleased that we could share in their happiness yesterday. But my mind drifted momentarily to imagining one of my own boys standing in the sanctuary and thanking us. That turned into a moment like that in the movie Parenthood, in which Gil Buckman goes from a fantasy of young Kevin as college valedictorian to Kevin in the bell tower with a rifle. Best to “stay in the moment.”
Our bilocation powers being weak to non-existent, we were unable to attend another first Mass, but are hoping to celebrate with that young man next week-end. Chuck and Eddie were too antsy to stay for the reception, so we came straight home. Where we found that our two runaway dogs had returned home covered in burrs and ticks and were being shaved on the front porch. With the good - i.e. for people! - hair clippers. At this point I developed a sick headache, took some meds and went to bed.
By mid-evening things appeared to be back to normal. I decided to indulge in one last episode of Desperate Housewives. For the last half of the show I had the strangest feeling that something was tickling my arm. When I finally swatted the presumed gnat, it failed to die and fell to the carpet and walked began to walk away. It was - horrors - ‘cause we’re living in the burbs of a great American metropolis - not the UP - a TICK! I wrapped it in a tissue and yelled for Rick to come and verify my fears. It was indeed. So Rick flushed it. Oh, the humanity... A TICK.
It was the weirdest of week-ends. A young man from our parish, I think he was a class ahead of Embot, was ordained on Saturday. We attended his first Mass yesterday afternoon. What a beautiful experience! (Eddie’s allergy attack, intensified by incense, notwithstanding. So I forgot the pre-emptive drugs. Sue me.) Before Mass began, one of our associates tapped Chuck and Eddie on the back and said, “You could be next!” It’s nice that they hear these things from others. ‘Cause the folks only count for so much.
I drifted off for a moment after Mass when the young priest was thanking his parents. They are such lovely people and I was so pleased that we could share in their happiness yesterday. But my mind drifted momentarily to imagining one of my own boys standing in the sanctuary and thanking us. That turned into a moment like that in the movie Parenthood, in which Gil Buckman goes from a fantasy of young Kevin as college valedictorian to Kevin in the bell tower with a rifle. Best to “stay in the moment.”
Our bilocation powers being weak to non-existent, we were unable to attend another first Mass, but are hoping to celebrate with that young man next week-end. Chuck and Eddie were too antsy to stay for the reception, so we came straight home. Where we found that our two runaway dogs had returned home covered in burrs and ticks and were being shaved on the front porch. With the good - i.e. for people! - hair clippers. At this point I developed a sick headache, took some meds and went to bed.
By mid-evening things appeared to be back to normal. I decided to indulge in one last episode of Desperate Housewives. For the last half of the show I had the strangest feeling that something was tickling my arm. When I finally swatted the presumed gnat, it failed to die and fell to the carpet and walked began to walk away. It was - horrors - ‘cause we’re living in the burbs of a great American metropolis - not the UP - a TICK! I wrapped it in a tissue and yelled for Rick to come and verify my fears. It was indeed. So Rick flushed it. Oh, the humanity... A TICK.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
House Time!
Just feeling ever so slightly vulnerable. Hope the plot doesn't revolve around a part-time church secretary who leaves work early with cough and fever only to sleep the day away, waking only for final JEOPARDY (hey Alex, I thought Marshall Field coined the phrase "the customer is always right.") and a late dinner. That would be too close to home.
Just feeling ever so slightly vulnerable. Hope the plot doesn't revolve around a part-time church secretary who leaves work early with cough and fever only to sleep the day away, waking only for final JEOPARDY (hey Alex, I thought Marshall Field coined the phrase "the customer is always right.") and a late dinner. That would be too close to home.
Childe Ellyn and the Purple Violet Crayon...
Thanks Summa Mamas!
Just try to find me in your Pantone color guide.
#EE82EE |
Your dominant hues are red and blue. You're confident and like showing people new ideas. You play well with others and can be very influential if you want to be. Your saturation level is lower than average - You don't stress out over things and don't understand people who do. Finishing projects may sometimes be a challenge, but you schedule time as you see fit and the important things all happen in the end, even if not everyone sees your grand master plan. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything. |
Thanks Summa Mamas!
Just try to find me in your Pantone color guide.
Monday, May 16, 2005
What part of Matris nomen originis
don’t they understand?
Another Monday. Back to work...my cold is mostly behind me (prancing on the lawn at 3:00am in my nightshirt didn’t help - but I don’t think it hurt, either.) so I’m not quite guilty of “presentee-ism.” Oh, well, I took a day off two weeks ago for my dental procedure, so I most likely shouldn’t take a day off until Embot’s wedding...
Maybe its the weather or the fact that I am fueled by cold medications, but I am becoming increasingly irritable and lacking in patience. Last night’s Simpsons episode grated on me. There were funny moments (and we know that Catholics do Rock!) but some of the show was just plain rude. And also a bit disjointed. As much as I enjoy my job, I am praying for patience to deal with the minor irritations. The minor irritations are what get me down. (Large crises can be dealt with appropriately. ) So today I can finish entering the names in the Confirmation register without getting too annoyed with all the people who cannot follow a simple directive like filling out a card with “mother’s maiden name.” Is that so hard? Is it? Then I can move on to the other tasks at hand, including finding altar servers for this week-end’s weddings. And hoping that the ad hoc wedding coordinator that is working on one of the weddings won’t be too dismayed when I can’t find her two altar servers of equal size. And her message also said that I should bear in mind that the bride is a tall girl. What does that mean? She wants tall servers to make her look shorter - or short servers to make her look taller? This is a church, lady, not central casting.
And remember, kids, while I'm gone take your problems to pater. The "only call the church if you are bleeding out of your eyeballs and/or you need to speak with a priest" rules apply until further notice...
don’t they understand?
Another Monday. Back to work...my cold is mostly behind me (prancing on the lawn at 3:00am in my nightshirt didn’t help - but I don’t think it hurt, either.) so I’m not quite guilty of “presentee-ism.” Oh, well, I took a day off two weeks ago for my dental procedure, so I most likely shouldn’t take a day off until Embot’s wedding...
Maybe its the weather or the fact that I am fueled by cold medications, but I am becoming increasingly irritable and lacking in patience. Last night’s Simpsons episode grated on me. There were funny moments (and we know that Catholics do Rock!) but some of the show was just plain rude. And also a bit disjointed. As much as I enjoy my job, I am praying for patience to deal with the minor irritations. The minor irritations are what get me down. (Large crises can be dealt with appropriately. ) So today I can finish entering the names in the Confirmation register without getting too annoyed with all the people who cannot follow a simple directive like filling out a card with “mother’s maiden name.” Is that so hard? Is it? Then I can move on to the other tasks at hand, including finding altar servers for this week-end’s weddings. And hoping that the ad hoc wedding coordinator that is working on one of the weddings won’t be too dismayed when I can’t find her two altar servers of equal size. And her message also said that I should bear in mind that the bride is a tall girl. What does that mean? She wants tall servers to make her look shorter - or short servers to make her look taller? This is a church, lady, not central casting.
And remember, kids, while I'm gone take your problems to pater. The "only call the church if you are bleeding out of your eyeballs and/or you need to speak with a priest" rules apply until further notice...
Shocking, simply shocking...
The documentary Metallica: Some Kind of Monster sounded interesting when it was first released. So when it was on VH1 Friday evening, I decided to spend my night of relaxation catching up on this bit of pop culture. It was some kind of strange. Metallica has a mission statement? Who knew. And they are in touch with their feelings... Great.
The final effect was that I was left feeling grouchy and put-upon. Having to listen to Metallica’s work in order to absorb the rest of the movie didn’t help. And after two+ hours of listening to their whining, I picked up the whiny torch myself and came downstairs and unloaded an ungracious 15 minute monologue on Rick about how I feel vomited upon by the whole world. By the mopes loitering in the cul-de-sac who were sharing their feelings with the world at top volume. By the co-worker for whom every day is “bring your demons to work day.” By our crazy dogs. And, of course, by Metallica.
The documentary Metallica: Some Kind of Monster sounded interesting when it was first released. So when it was on VH1 Friday evening, I decided to spend my night of relaxation catching up on this bit of pop culture. It was some kind of strange. Metallica has a mission statement? Who knew. And they are in touch with their feelings... Great.
The final effect was that I was left feeling grouchy and put-upon. Having to listen to Metallica’s work in order to absorb the rest of the movie didn’t help. And after two+ hours of listening to their whining, I picked up the whiny torch myself and came downstairs and unloaded an ungracious 15 minute monologue on Rick about how I feel vomited upon by the whole world. By the mopes loitering in the cul-de-sac who were sharing their feelings with the world at top volume. By the co-worker for whom every day is “bring your demons to work day.” By our crazy dogs. And, of course, by Metallica.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Is it just me...
or is the work of Seth McFarlane not funny? I don’t understand how there could be any fan base for Family Guy or American Dad. (Or is that Family Dad and American Guy?) Blech.
or is the work of Seth McFarlane not funny? I don’t understand how there could be any fan base for Family Guy or American Dad. (Or is that Family Dad and American Guy?) Blech.
15th of May, Lake Bluff (Eddie)
with apologies to Bruce Springsteen.
Eddie the aurora is risin' behind us...
Very early this morning, around 3:00am, I was awakened by the sounds of Rick loading the dishwasher and the front door slamming as the stragglers from a casual get-together that the girls hosted finally departed. I looked outside and saw three neighborhood mopes standing in our frontyard. Staring at the sky; mouthes agape. When I looked up into the sky, I saw some mildy twinkly northern lights to the north.
I must be getting old and jaded because my next move was to put my head on the pillow and try to get back to sleep. Five minutes later, Franny came through the house, pounding on bedroom doors and exhorting everyone to come outside and see the spectacle. Chuck couldn’t make it - probably due to the Ny-Quill he took at bedtime. Martha was reluctant. So was Eddie. But their efforts were rewarded with a most spectacular show of northern lights directly overhead. Now fully awake - and freezing in my nightshirt+cardigan ensemble- I praised their cooperation by noting that we sometimes must make an effort in time, travel etc. if we want to appreciate God’s handiwork in nature. (For some family members, venturing on to the lawn at 3:00am is equivalent to traveling to Siberia to see an eclipse.)
And seeing Eddie’s delight rekindled my awe.
Enthusiasm is now running high for a trip to the UP this summer, ideally timed to coincide with the Perseid meteor showers. The kids have a good grasp of the concept of “light pollution.” (The greater Chicago area has a lot of light pollution. Starting with the porch light on the other half of our townhouse. Courtesy dictated not ringing the neighbors doorbell at 3:00am to ask them to shut it off.)
Look at the Stars! Look, look up at the skies!
O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!
The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
-Gerard Manley Hopkins
with apologies to Bruce Springsteen.
Eddie the aurora is risin' behind us...
Very early this morning, around 3:00am, I was awakened by the sounds of Rick loading the dishwasher and the front door slamming as the stragglers from a casual get-together that the girls hosted finally departed. I looked outside and saw three neighborhood mopes standing in our frontyard. Staring at the sky; mouthes agape. When I looked up into the sky, I saw some mildy twinkly northern lights to the north.
I must be getting old and jaded because my next move was to put my head on the pillow and try to get back to sleep. Five minutes later, Franny came through the house, pounding on bedroom doors and exhorting everyone to come outside and see the spectacle. Chuck couldn’t make it - probably due to the Ny-Quill he took at bedtime. Martha was reluctant. So was Eddie. But their efforts were rewarded with a most spectacular show of northern lights directly overhead. Now fully awake - and freezing in my nightshirt+cardigan ensemble- I praised their cooperation by noting that we sometimes must make an effort in time, travel etc. if we want to appreciate God’s handiwork in nature. (For some family members, venturing on to the lawn at 3:00am is equivalent to traveling to Siberia to see an eclipse.)
And seeing Eddie’s delight rekindled my awe.
Enthusiasm is now running high for a trip to the UP this summer, ideally timed to coincide with the Perseid meteor showers. The kids have a good grasp of the concept of “light pollution.” (The greater Chicago area has a lot of light pollution. Starting with the porch light on the other half of our townhouse. Courtesy dictated not ringing the neighbors doorbell at 3:00am to ask them to shut it off.)
Look at the Stars! Look, look up at the skies!
O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!
The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!
-Gerard Manley Hopkins
At the risk of sounding like Andy Rooney...
I would like to ask if you all remember the days when high-end disposable dishes were made to resemble fine tableware? Those days are gone. The new Crate and Barrel catalog for summer now has Porcelain Take-Out Cups that look just like styrofoam! My protestations notwithstanding, there is something cute about them. I may have to get a couple. You know - for that styrofoam look - without the temptation for the young people to take a bite out of the rim. Or make that squeeky sound that makes me crazy!
I would like to ask if you all remember the days when high-end disposable dishes were made to resemble fine tableware? Those days are gone. The new Crate and Barrel catalog for summer now has Porcelain Take-Out Cups that look just like styrofoam! My protestations notwithstanding, there is something cute about them. I may have to get a couple. You know - for that styrofoam look - without the temptation for the young people to take a bite out of the rim. Or make that squeeky sound that makes me crazy!
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
So shabby. So chic.
(Note to Em: I'm going to mention one of those family secrets. * Change your name now.)
Rick, Chuck and Fran just returned from canvassing the east side of town. Tomorrow is one of the May refuse days. I'm sure I've mentioned here before that this is one of those opportunities for finding things you just can't find in stores. And at the best possible price. (Guess where we found the jumbo dry erase board that we use in the school corner. You betcha. And that was something the kids dragged home years ago and I ranted about "what were we supposed to do with such a monstrosity." I stand corrected.)
Fran found a beautiful "pre-distressed" wall mirror. I would have thought it was 100% genuine antique. Except that it still had the price tag and those protective corner thing-a-ma-jigs. Rick and Chuck found stuff that guys would like. (i.e., it went straight to the garage.) And they scoped out a beautiful redwood deck lounge...and frantically tried to call Bridget and her beau with the truck, 'cuz you just can't put major furniture in an Amigo.
*Did I scare you? Did you think I was going to mention the smelly carpet?
(Note to Em: I'm going to mention one of those family secrets. * Change your name now.)
Rick, Chuck and Fran just returned from canvassing the east side of town. Tomorrow is one of the May refuse days. I'm sure I've mentioned here before that this is one of those opportunities for finding things you just can't find in stores. And at the best possible price. (Guess where we found the jumbo dry erase board that we use in the school corner. You betcha. And that was something the kids dragged home years ago and I ranted about "what were we supposed to do with such a monstrosity." I stand corrected.)
Fran found a beautiful "pre-distressed" wall mirror. I would have thought it was 100% genuine antique. Except that it still had the price tag and those protective corner thing-a-ma-jigs. Rick and Chuck found stuff that guys would like. (i.e., it went straight to the garage.) And they scoped out a beautiful redwood deck lounge...and frantically tried to call Bridget and her beau with the truck, 'cuz you just can't put major furniture in an Amigo.
*Did I scare you? Did you think I was going to mention the smelly carpet?
Ouch!
Wish I hadn't watched House tonight.
I'm finally feeling better after a week of dragging around after my oral surgery. So my treat for staying awake to watch a TV show was having to keep a finger on the remote lest anyone walk in on the exploration of the careers of dominatrices. Or lest I just couldn't take anymore.
And my treat for finishing the gut churning course of antibiotics to eradicate any vestigal infection from the absess was to watch what happens when a jaw becomes horribly infected. Maybe I can watch some sort of snake show on Animal Planet. Just to change the tack of my bad dreams.
Wish I hadn't watched House tonight.
I'm finally feeling better after a week of dragging around after my oral surgery. So my treat for staying awake to watch a TV show was having to keep a finger on the remote lest anyone walk in on the exploration of the careers of dominatrices. Or lest I just couldn't take anymore.
And my treat for finishing the gut churning course of antibiotics to eradicate any vestigal infection from the absess was to watch what happens when a jaw becomes horribly infected. Maybe I can watch some sort of snake show on Animal Planet. Just to change the tack of my bad dreams.
Ouch.
or
Bouguereau Revisited...Again*
Some people like the paintings of Bouguereau. Others don’t. I understand that. (I finished my BA in art history under the advisorship of a professor who held Bouguereau in the type of esteem that translated to 2005 terms would be - Thomas Kinkade!) But I had another one of “those” moments at work today. A woman came in for a Mass card. I find myself grabbing for The Pieta cards first. Not just because I ordered them and feel a responsibility to ‘move’ them. After I had filled out the card, closed the Mass book and was on my way to deposit the stipend, she stood in the doorway studying the card and asked if I had anything else. The Pieta was “sad.”
Being personally invested in the procurement of the Bourguereau cards, I felt a strange obligation to give her a different card and not try to reason with her. (Nor to give in to the urge to ask if she wanted a Happy Face/Don't Worry Be Happy card.) Not to try to explain why some would find The Pieta was powerful - sorrowful but not without consolation.
I acknowledge the Bouguereau detractors. But I think that the ladies who shy away from The Pieta would be quite pleased to lap up some of his more treacly works (not that I don’t like those, too...) such as Innocence or The First Kiss. I don’t think this is about Bouguereau. And I don’t think it is really about me and my “artistic differences” with co-workers and some of the public at large.
* In the interest of full disclosure: I often hang a reprint of The Flagellation of Christ in our dining room during Lent. I think the artist’s talents achieve their fullest flowering in the service of religious subjects.
It’s a Small World...
This is a true story.
Fifteen minutes before I was to leave work yesterday, one of the Fathers requested help in preparing a handout for a presentation this morning. What he needed was simple. An 8 1/2 by 11 page with 7 concentric circles. Unfortunately, no one in the rectory had a compass (either dangerous-pointy or ruler with a pencil hole). Faced with running to the school and borrowing a compass or finding 7 concentric kitchen items (plate, salad plate, saucer etc.) to trace, I chose the easy way out. (I mean...time was of the essence, right? This was no time for a pencil, a string and a pin, either.) So I went to GOOGLE and entered the words “concentric circles.”
And the first item - out of a possible 378,000 results was a lovely display of concentric circles (more than seven, but what’s Wite-Out for, right?) direct from the employer of St. Blog’s very own Bill White. I hope I didn’t commit any gross violation of copyright, Bill. I didn’t copy any text...I just needed circles to enlarge (and trace, since these were colored circles and I was just working in black and white). Can one copyright circles?
Well, anyway, what a small world.
And, another funny thing. There is one of those rulers with a pencil hole right here on the desk. Must take it to work with me.
This is a true story.
Fifteen minutes before I was to leave work yesterday, one of the Fathers requested help in preparing a handout for a presentation this morning. What he needed was simple. An 8 1/2 by 11 page with 7 concentric circles. Unfortunately, no one in the rectory had a compass (either dangerous-pointy or ruler with a pencil hole). Faced with running to the school and borrowing a compass or finding 7 concentric kitchen items (plate, salad plate, saucer etc.) to trace, I chose the easy way out. (I mean...time was of the essence, right? This was no time for a pencil, a string and a pin, either.) So I went to GOOGLE and entered the words “concentric circles.”
And the first item - out of a possible 378,000 results was a lovely display of concentric circles (more than seven, but what’s Wite-Out for, right?) direct from the employer of St. Blog’s very own Bill White. I hope I didn’t commit any gross violation of copyright, Bill. I didn’t copy any text...I just needed circles to enlarge (and trace, since these were colored circles and I was just working in black and white). Can one copyright circles?
Well, anyway, what a small world.
And, another funny thing. There is one of those rulers with a pencil hole right here on the desk. Must take it to work with me.
a good scrubbing: Put the keyboard on the top shelf of our dishwasher, don't use dishwashing detergent, set the unit to the rinse cycle (don't use the dry cycle), and turn it on.
I read this in today’s Sun-Times. I read it again on-line when I returned home. I read it to Chuck and asked him what he thought. I’m still dubious. I think I’d try it once with one of the spare keyboards sitting around the garage. (We don’t always have the best of luck with dishes in the dishwasher, so running the computer keyboard through a rinse cycle makes me a little nervous.)
I read this in today’s Sun-Times. I read it again on-line when I returned home. I read it to Chuck and asked him what he thought. I’m still dubious. I think I’d try it once with one of the spare keyboards sitting around the garage. (We don’t always have the best of luck with dishes in the dishwasher, so running the computer keyboard through a rinse cycle makes me a little nervous.)
Monday, May 09, 2005
If I were the Rev. LeRoy Jenkins...
I’d be miffed.
I turned on the telly, left on Comedy Central from yesterday, and saw the nerve shattering Rev. LeRoy Jenkins hawking his bottles of Miracle Water. Thinking it was a MAD-TV send-up, I sat down and waited for the fun to begin. No Ms. Swan. No Bunifa. No Stuart. Eeek. This was paid programming. So it wasn’t really funny. Just creepy weird. Does the Rev. Mr. Jenkins know that his ‘work’ is playing on Comedy Central? (There's a certain justice in that...)
I’d be miffed.
I turned on the telly, left on Comedy Central from yesterday, and saw the nerve shattering Rev. LeRoy Jenkins hawking his bottles of Miracle Water. Thinking it was a MAD-TV send-up, I sat down and waited for the fun to begin. No Ms. Swan. No Bunifa. No Stuart. Eeek. This was paid programming. So it wasn’t really funny. Just creepy weird. Does the Rev. Mr. Jenkins know that his ‘work’ is playing on Comedy Central? (There's a certain justice in that...)
Win a few... loose a few.
I had one of those glowing homeschooling mother moments the other day. Charles, wishing not to be bothered with trivial stuff, posted the following notice on the memo board on his bedroom door: de minimis non curat praetor. So, you see, homeschooled children are clever and educated and have greater resources available to tell the family to back off.
Lest my head swell to much...the very same day I heard Charles’ younger brother (lovingly homeschooled all his life) refer to a dessert item as the “most dankest.” MOST DANKEST? I wasn’t sure where to start tearing out my hair first. Do I go apoplectic over the use of creepy drug slang? By an eleven year old? Do I start with the drug slang and than slide into a tirade about turning dubious language into a grammatically wrong dubious superlative with the attachment of “most -est” to an adjective?
After I calmed down, I started with the request that the word ‘dank’ not be used in my house unless we’re discussing the basement at our old house or wet swimming trunks left behind bedroom doors.
I had one of those glowing homeschooling mother moments the other day. Charles, wishing not to be bothered with trivial stuff, posted the following notice on the memo board on his bedroom door: de minimis non curat praetor. So, you see, homeschooled children are clever and educated and have greater resources available to tell the family to back off.
Lest my head swell to much...the very same day I heard Charles’ younger brother (lovingly homeschooled all his life) refer to a dessert item as the “most dankest.” MOST DANKEST? I wasn’t sure where to start tearing out my hair first. Do I go apoplectic over the use of creepy drug slang? By an eleven year old? Do I start with the drug slang and than slide into a tirade about turning dubious language into a grammatically wrong dubious superlative with the attachment of “most -est” to an adjective?
After I calmed down, I started with the request that the word ‘dank’ not be used in my house unless we’re discussing the basement at our old house or wet swimming trunks left behind bedroom doors.
A totally Happy No-Teeth Grinding Mothers’ Day!
What a lovely Mothers’ Day week-end. The children were sweet and well behaved. A few spats broke out during dinner - just to keep us grounded in reality. There were presents, cards and other assorted tributes. Just a picture perfect day. The weather cooperated beautifully for the Rose Sale at church. Eddie and I went to the 7:30 Mass and then helped to sell a few roses. I hope everyone connected with the sale lets Father know how wonderful it was of him to let the roses be stored in the rectory garage. That made everything so convenient....almost totally removing the blankety-blank sonofabitchin’ rose schlepping preparations.
What a lovely Mothers’ Day week-end. The children were sweet and well behaved. A few spats broke out during dinner - just to keep us grounded in reality. There were presents, cards and other assorted tributes. Just a picture perfect day. The weather cooperated beautifully for the Rose Sale at church. Eddie and I went to the 7:30 Mass and then helped to sell a few roses. I hope everyone connected with the sale lets Father know how wonderful it was of him to let the roses be stored in the rectory garage. That made everything so convenient....almost totally removing the blankety-blank sonofabitchin’ rose schlepping preparations.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
The Girl with Colitis Goes By...
Am ...not....feeling...so good.
Didn’t know if it was from the antibiotics I’m on through Tuesday. Or the painkillers I still need at night, due to the feeling that I’ve been socked in the jaw. (But I look fine. And we all know it’s better to look good...)
I wish I hadn’t looked on-line for side effects of the antibiotics. Now I feel worse. But I must pull myself together to run some buckets up to church for the Mother’s Day Right to Life Rose Sale. This is the first time in years that I haven’t been heavily involved in the sale and I’m feeling a little aimless.
Am ...not....feeling...so good.
Didn’t know if it was from the antibiotics I’m on through Tuesday. Or the painkillers I still need at night, due to the feeling that I’ve been socked in the jaw. (But I look fine. And we all know it’s better to look good...)
I wish I hadn’t looked on-line for side effects of the antibiotics. Now I feel worse. But I must pull myself together to run some buckets up to church for the Mother’s Day Right to Life Rose Sale. This is the first time in years that I haven’t been heavily involved in the sale and I’m feeling a little aimless.
Benefits!
So I’m not “benefits eligible” in my job. I still get fabulous benefits. Ready access to spiritual advice, close proximity to church - you name it! And sometimes the advice is just plain practical, too.
As I picked up orange juice carton stoppers and one of those plastic security rings from a gallon of milk from off the kitchen counter, I remembered a piece of advice that our pastor passed along to us over lunch. When it comes to dealing with paper work and other things, remember the acronym OHIO...
OHIO: Only Handle It Once. When you sort through your mail, do you tend to look at everything once, and then leave it all in a pile, perhaps opening one or two things of interest? Then when you need to pay bills, you have to look at everything a second time in order to pull out your statements. Later, you may go through the same pile a third time to find a program flyer or the one credit card offer in which you might be interested? What a hassle! Only handle things once. When you sort your mail, sort it into bills, items to file/keep, items to pursue (put them on your to-do list) and recycling. You can likewise triage your email and telephone messages.
That’s darned good advice. And you can apply it to yogurt lids, bottle tops and a billion other household items. I’ve mentioned it to the family. But it hasn’t caught on. I’ll keep trying.
So I’m not “benefits eligible” in my job. I still get fabulous benefits. Ready access to spiritual advice, close proximity to church - you name it! And sometimes the advice is just plain practical, too.
As I picked up orange juice carton stoppers and one of those plastic security rings from a gallon of milk from off the kitchen counter, I remembered a piece of advice that our pastor passed along to us over lunch. When it comes to dealing with paper work and other things, remember the acronym OHIO...
OHIO: Only Handle It Once. When you sort through your mail, do you tend to look at everything once, and then leave it all in a pile, perhaps opening one or two things of interest? Then when you need to pay bills, you have to look at everything a second time in order to pull out your statements. Later, you may go through the same pile a third time to find a program flyer or the one credit card offer in which you might be interested? What a hassle! Only handle things once. When you sort your mail, sort it into bills, items to file/keep, items to pursue (put them on your to-do list) and recycling. You can likewise triage your email and telephone messages.
That’s darned good advice. And you can apply it to yogurt lids, bottle tops and a billion other household items. I’ve mentioned it to the family. But it hasn’t caught on. I’ll keep trying.
Heroic Brookfield Zoo gorilla has new baby!
The zoo will announce a public contest in June to name Binti's new baby.
The boys were not amused by my idea of Charles Edward or Edward Charles. So I’ll go with my next favorite...Romanceo Sir Tasty Maxibillion. I know I’ve invoked that name before. And I’m not making it up. Do a GOOGLE search.
And, yes, we’re going big time. We don’t mean Maximillion.
The zoo will announce a public contest in June to name Binti's new baby.
The boys were not amused by my idea of Charles Edward or Edward Charles. So I’ll go with my next favorite...Romanceo Sir Tasty Maxibillion. I know I’ve invoked that name before. And I’m not making it up. Do a GOOGLE search.
And, yes, we’re going big time. We don’t mean Maximillion.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
I am mother...
I read too much, I buy too many books, I’ll whup you at Trivial Pursuit....Breathe in my aura!
Via Joanne Jacobs:What parents do (museum visits) or buy (home computer) doesn't seem to matter; what parents are does matter.
How can it be that a child with a lot of books in her home does well at school even if she never reads them? Because parents who buy a lot of children's books tend to be smart and well-educated to begin with, and they pass on their smarts and work ethic to their kids. (This theory is supported by the fact that the number of books in a home is just as strongly correlated with math scores as reading scores.) Or the books may suggest that these are parents who care a great deal about education and about their children in general, which results in an environment that rewards learning . . . A book is, in fact, less a cause of intelligence than an indicator.
And what does mama want for Mother's Day? More books, more shelves and perhaps a splash of Tea Rose.
I read too much, I buy too many books, I’ll whup you at Trivial Pursuit....Breathe in my aura!
Via Joanne Jacobs:What parents do (museum visits) or buy (home computer) doesn't seem to matter; what parents are does matter.
How can it be that a child with a lot of books in her home does well at school even if she never reads them? Because parents who buy a lot of children's books tend to be smart and well-educated to begin with, and they pass on their smarts and work ethic to their kids. (This theory is supported by the fact that the number of books in a home is just as strongly correlated with math scores as reading scores.) Or the books may suggest that these are parents who care a great deal about education and about their children in general, which results in an environment that rewards learning . . . A book is, in fact, less a cause of intelligence than an indicator.
And what does mama want for Mother's Day? More books, more shelves and perhaps a splash of Tea Rose.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Protect Wildlife - Crush Cup before Disposal
This caveat is printed on the tapered Yoplait yogurt cups. No kidding. But have you ever seen a squirrel staggering about your backyard with a yogurt cup stuck on his head? We laugh about it now - since no squirrel was harmed in the incident we witnessed. If only I had had the video camera ready to go - that could have been a Grand Prize winner on one of those absurd home video shows. (and I could have afforded to sleep through my oral surgery. No, forget it. That was so long ago that the money would be long gone.) Luckily, for our little buddy squirrel, he extricated himself around the time we started to debate the best way to catch him and help him out of his panicky situation.
This caveat is printed on the tapered Yoplait yogurt cups. No kidding. But have you ever seen a squirrel staggering about your backyard with a yogurt cup stuck on his head? We laugh about it now - since no squirrel was harmed in the incident we witnessed. If only I had had the video camera ready to go - that could have been a Grand Prize winner on one of those absurd home video shows. (and I could have afforded to sleep through my oral surgery. No, forget it. That was so long ago that the money would be long gone.) Luckily, for our little buddy squirrel, he extricated himself around the time we started to debate the best way to catch him and help him out of his panicky situation.
Your #1 Match: ISTJ |
The Duty Fulfiller You are responsible, reliable, and hardworking - you get the job done. You prefer productive hobbies, like woodworking or knittings. Quiet and serious, you are well prepared for whatever life hands you. Conservative and down-to-earth, you hardly ever do anything crazy. You would make a great business executive, accountant, or lawyer. |
Your #2 Match: INTJ |
The Scientist You have a head for ideas - and you are good at improving systems. Logical and strategic, you prefer for everything in your life to be organized. You tend to be a bit skeptical. You're both critical of yourself and of others. Independent and stubborn, you tend to only befriend those who are a lot like you. You would make an excellent scientist, engineer, or programmer. |
Your #3 Match: ISFJ |
The Nurturer You have a strong need to belong, and you very loyal. A good listener, you excell at helping others in practical ways. In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music. You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for. You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist. |
Thanks to St. Apollonia for favors received.
Tooth #30 is gone. Everything went smoothly. (The ‘surgery’ had its moments...but it was quicker and easier than giving birth. The oral surgeon did all the hard work. I decided to save $400 by foregoing my sleep option. Too bad the doc didn’t turn the music up a little louder. It would have covered up the gruesome sounds. Of course, I was already feeling pretty old just by virtue of having the procedure done. Having to listen to the Turtles and Herman’s Hermits at high volume would have had the dual effect of cheering me with their bouncy beats and reminding me that I was around when those tunes were in the Top Ten.)
Tooth #30 is gone. Everything went smoothly. (The ‘surgery’ had its moments...but it was quicker and easier than giving birth. The oral surgeon did all the hard work. I decided to save $400 by foregoing my sleep option. Too bad the doc didn’t turn the music up a little louder. It would have covered up the gruesome sounds. Of course, I was already feeling pretty old just by virtue of having the procedure done. Having to listen to the Turtles and Herman’s Hermits at high volume would have had the dual effect of cheering me with their bouncy beats and reminding me that I was around when those tunes were in the Top Ten.)
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