Yeah, it was like that.
You know those scenes on medical shows. Where the earnest young intern screws up badly and stands there speechless and lip-quivering since there is no explanation for the mistake and all she can do is say, “I’m sorry, this is inexcusable, it’ll never happen again,” and get away before she bursts into tears. Yeah, today was like that. At least no one was killed or maimed.

Manly, yes, but I like it too...

From The Bachelor's Guide to Home Decor at Video meliora...
”The short cut to dusting furniture is to blow hard, which most bachelors are good at since they've yet to experience the awesome civilizing force of marriage. A good blast of air will make it look as though the dust has only accumulated for a week or two rather than a month or two.”

My secret revealed. All this time the family thought I had been blowing kisses at the pictures of family members (both departed and still with us)
that decorate the stairway.

The truth is "If you spent more than five minutes selecting candy to give to trick or treaters, you are not shopping for them; you are making plans for the leftovers."
A profound thought from Catholic Ragemonkey.

Be careful what you wish for...
you might have to buy it.

Several weeks ago, I mistakenly wandered into the small appliance aisle at Target and found myself admiring a red KitchenAid toaster. And saying to whoever was nearby, "Too bad we don't need a new toaster."

Snoozing on the couch before dinner Friday night, I was awakend by an acrid smell and screams of, "Grab the fire extinguisher," and "Pull the safety pin...it won't work unless you pull the pin." So much for the toaster that I yammered about here several years ago. (this time you will be spared a full pictorial since I haven't had time to work out my imaging hosting problems. Suffice it to say...the new toaster is red. Fire engine red.) That white stuff from the fire extinguisher was all over the place, necessitating a long overdue scrubbing of certain quadrants of the kitchen. Including the dogs' dishes. Congratualtions, pups. Nothing like a frosting of that stuff to force your owners to actually clean the bowls.

My ever optimistic husband took the toaster outside and flushed it with the garden hose. I had my doubts. But he said it would dry as good as new...(deja vu all over the kitchen...I think we went through this the last time a toaster went up in flames.) as soon as it dried. Well, yes, it did toast quite well after a twenty-four hour drying period. The problem was that the sensors that shut it off no longer worked. Earning it a one way trip to the garbage.

We took the boys to see Wallace and Gromit yesterday. Then stopped at Target to procure the new toaster. Cracklin' toast, Gromit.

An Open Bee!
What a fabulous idea. ...launched to give people of all ages an opportunity to spell, noting that the 8th grade is the last chance most people have to participate in a spelling bee.

I think I shall look into this. I was third in our school bee in fifth grade. Sixth, I didn’t do quite as well. And then my school quit participating in the national Bee system. Oh, the missed opportunities. The shattered dreams. I knew I'd never make it to Wimbledon. But I thought I had a shot at the Bee.

You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a fair to middlin’ speller, which is what I am, let's face it.

A sacrifice to be real must cost, must hurt, must empty ourselves...
Of course I want to love Christ in the “distressing disguise.” The problem is - I want to choose the disguise. Just as I say I am willing to take up my cross - though the crosses of others are more appealing to me.

This is where we are tested. The rather obvious distresses aren’t particularly disturbing to me. (Maybe it is just my nature; or that motherhood has left me with a high tolerance of blood, puke and other aesthetically unpleasant bodily fluids and functions.) So my struggle right now is not in loving Christ in the the obviously distressing disguise. It it to love him in the people that I find difficult to love. Those whose distressing disguise is beneath the surface. Not only beneath the surface, but a matter of interpersonal hurt and irritation. That is the challenge.

Just as I have a daughter who would rather hug someone with extreme neurofibromatosis than a well-healed, fabulously manicured society girl, I would prefer to pick maggots off of lepers instead of seeing Christ in a particular person who is plain difficult and contentious. But that is what I must do. This is going to hurt...

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

It was so like...The Jetsons
It was just Eddie and me for dinner last night, so we went to the local Panera Bread for soup. After noticing the wi-fi users on our last visit there, Eddie just had to bring his laptop. During dinner I realized we were surrounded by people with laptops, cell phones, iPods. I felt like I had just stepped into an episode of the Jetsons. All I needed to do was change Eddie's name to Elroy and convince the car to fly us home.

I was glad that Elroy Eddie was off playing LEGOS when I turned on the telly to watch PrimeTime on ABC. They had a piece about cute little white supremacist singing twin sisters. Creepy and sad. (Such a quick jump from The Jetsons to The Twilight Zone) Oh...and of course they homeschool. And these are the homeschoolers that people are going to remember when homeschooling comes up in conversation. Oh, boy.

About time.

Where do you go when you're lonely
Where do you go when you're blue
Where do you go when you're lonely
I'll follow you
When the stars go blue...

Penny wise and spiritually foolish, I skipped morning Mass just about every day this week. All in the interest of getting to my desk early and getting some work done before the phones start ringing. Professionally speaking, it was the right thing to do...having been a little stretched trying to cover two desks and myriad tasks while the official Parish Secretary is still out on a medical leave of absence.

But heaven knows that the tough days are the ones that need to be started in the Presence of the Lord. Even on the not so crazy days, it helps me to put it all into perspective. There is a bit of a disconnect for me. A mission of utmost importance combined with mind-numbing tasks. Each phone call a chance at addrressing an aggressive telemarketer, a kvetching parishioner or , then again, a soul in need of a priest. Every day is (and I mean this in the most reverent way I can express) a double bill of The Passion of the Christ and Office Space.

I think it would be the better investment in my performance, dedication and, oh Lord, my patience to start the day off right. (My patience most sorely tested by the demands of family life coupled with one too many kind parishioners who suggest I take a page from Secretary X’s book and get some arthroplasty on my hip. Like it’s that easy. Blech.)

I shall approach the coming week differently. Starting my day suffused in the blue glow of the sun as it passes through the church windows.

So...it’s like,
if birthing, parenting and schooling were an Olympic sport, we would have our gold medalists. And that would make me the captain of the Jamaican bobsled team.

"We'll turn the fryers on about 5 Wednesday morning and we should have hot beignets pretty quick after that."
Mmmm. Beignets

Society for the Propagation of the Species?
Don’t think funny while typing.
Because it will come back to you while flossing your teeth at bedtime and the you’ll spend the rest of the night thinnking, “I hope I didn’t type that.”

Have I mentioned Ernst Dalton, Nora Dineen, Ed O’Toole and Bloody Bones?
Three relatives and a local legend. And that’s just for starters. Few children are as blessed as I was....or my children are.

"The power of the family stories and the family history is really remarkable."..."There seems to be something that's particularly important about children knowing where they came from in a larger sense, and having a sense of family history and a family place."

The remains of the world's oldest noodles have been unearthed in China.
Which reminds me...it’s Thursday night. Time to clean out the refrigerator. The world’s second oldest Chinese food is lurking in the back. I know it’s there.

the incredible power you wield in our parish...
Right. If if you consider the ability to disconnect your phone call as incredible power.


"The guy the Pope /should/ listen
to"


God has given you the rare gift of bilocation.
With it, you can attend both the First Friday
Devotions in Honor of Our Lady of Fatima and
the parish bake sale committee meetings.

We respect you, mostly because we fear the
incredible power you wield in our parish.

Provided by


Are You A Cultural Catholic?
brought to you by Quizilla
Read? I spend all day vaccuuming the sacristy, cleaning the altar linens, getting Father's cassocks from the laundry, and saying my fifteen novenas. When do you expect me to read?
Almost.
Thanks to Alicia for the giggle I needed.

I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.
That’s it! I have Lloyd Dobler’s dream job Too bad I’ve been too busy to write much about it. I haven’t even had time to address that dubious bottle of green Lourdes’ water.

What Not to Wear
Saying little and wearing a black T-shirt emblazoned with the image of mobster Al Capone, a Little Village man who allegedly owned the gun his 2-year-old nephew used to shoot a playmate appeared in court Tuesday for a bond hearing.
Yes, there are sometimes when we are judged by the clothes we wear. A court appearance is one of those times. When my sister was a public defender, she would tell me amazing stories of people who would use a court appearance to express their inner ‘personality’ or lack of common sense. And she would try, often unsuccessfully, to tell her clients that wearing a borrowed suit or sweater or whatever is better than appearing in court in a T-shirt bearing an assinine statement.

It works for me...



Via speculative catholic.

2 months, 2 weeks, 2 days...
This is becoming tooo real.
Best get organized.

Madonna will be punished for song, rabbi says
Only one? I think her punishable offenses could fill a nice double album.

"A wonderful bird is the pelican; his beak can hold more than his belly can..."
My mother was fond of quoting that rhyme about the pelican when my sister and I exhibited inclinations to overfill our plates or overstuff our mouths. It helped. But I think the 21st century mother should now carry a photo of that burst python...you know, the one whose mouth could hold more than his belly could. Compelling.

There’s nothing wrong with me...
that a demi-plie in fifth position wouldn’t exacerbate. So I think I’ll just file the big introduction to the ballet coloring book that I bought at the library book sale. Maybe we’ll have some fun with it after Christmas and the wedding.

My goal for this week-end is to use my time to prioritize things around the house. It looks like I’ll be working longer hours for the next month (which, with Christmas and a wedding on the horizon could be providential) and I desperately want to have some sort of organization at home. Certain projects should definitely wait until January - like the papier mache sarcophagus that we were going to construct for our Egypt study. Our small home gets a little crowded Thanksgiving through Christmas, and with Embot’s wedding added to the mix, the last thing we need is a life size papier mache sarcophagus in any stage of assembly.

So, now I must take advantage of the rush of energy that comes with the arrival of cold autumnal air. The energy may not last. And since I hate to turn the heat on until we absolutely must, the temptation to curl up under the fleecy blanket and finish my current reading and a stack of accumulated periodicals may be irresistible.

Python Bursts After Trying to Eat Gator
Oh...and Cruise and Katie Holmes Expecting.

On the Square - First Things blog...
But will Fr. Neuhaus tell us when he finds a mouse in his house? You know - the kind of thing that makes a blog worth reading.

If only...
real life were as simple as TV life.
I am not particularly proud to admit that I have slid back into the habit of watching Desperate Housewives on Sunday nite. Does one need to enumerate all the more edifying activities that one could pursue? I think not. There was, however, in last evening's program, a moment of recognition when the harried mother, recently returning to full-time work, arrives home to find that the full-time homemaking dad has let things slide. I know the feeling. ( I'm working more hours for several weeks and have shifted most of the house and school responsibilities to Rick...and he appears to have read that old "So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep..." poem one too many times. OK, so baby is almost twelve, but there is always a more pressing need than the nuts and bolts basics of homemaking. Without everybody else pitching in we'd be sunk...but what really has me tearing my hair out is the fact that Rick doesn't see what needs doing. Is it a male thing? I don't know.) So, anyhow, the Desperate Housewife brings home a store bought rodent to shock her husband into a tidier frame of mind. And it worked like a dream. Unfortunately, in my house, the big dog caught a mouse the other day and I didn't return to find a glistening house and a spouse spritzing bleach everywhere. Of course, the Desperate Housewife set her rodent up in business on the kitchen counter. A field mouse in the basement doesn't pack the same punch. Oh, well, time to reassess my TV habits. And give the usual hygiene/gross out/Hanta virus lecture. And don't forget kids... this is the time of year when our outside friends are looking for a warm place to spend the winter.

Sounds good to me...

You Are 33 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Thanks to Smockmomma,