Hungry, hungry Buddhist...
And our intro to ASL is off to a bumpy start.

My name is quite challenging to fingerspell. My digits are flabby, uncoordinated and in need of limbering.

"But Mom..." is a phrase that flows so easily for the girls. And, laying a finger aside of their noses, the boys are already adept at saying "I'm bored."

Say it ain't so.
No Bruce Wolf on the morning news? There goes my sports literacy. The only reason that I am remotely conversant in the discussion of many sports is that Bruce Wolf made sports news funny. Really, really funny. And thereby tolerable.

According to the paper, he also does the sports on the radio. But WLUP's playlist is too nerve changling for me.

Moms sue maker of Thomas trains
Not as bad as it sounds.
I do kind of wonder about anyone who spends $5,000 on toy trains for a four year old. And admits it in the newspaper.

We don’t have any warranty problems. The boys (12 and 16) are a bit past the Thomas age but the things (which I thought I had packed away for posterity) keep turning up around the house. Bridget removed one, I think it was Gordon but my memory is getting a little shaky, from the jaws of the new dog just the other morning. (Yes, there’s a new dog. I haven’t calmed down enough to write about him. Yes, he’s cute. Cute Clyde.)

Chuck and I were reminiscing about Thomas the other day. The billion times we watched the tapes at nap time. It didn’t take long for us to start reciting dialogue long lodged in the recesses of our brains. But I was disappointed that I couldn’t name all the characters. There was a time that I knew all of them. And their attributes.

I couldn’t resist the chance to tease Chuck about the time he had to be removed from Mass because the thought that the priest said, “Lord, have Percy.” And Chuck started howling “Percy” over and over.

Yessirree...we’re getting our lifetime’s worth out of Thomas.

The children wait in the dark outside a public housing complex in Waukegan. When an old school bus shines its big headlights on their small frames, they run to the vehicle bouncing with excitement.

"Pastor Louie, Pastor Louie," the kids yell as the bus doors swing open and Luis Reyes greets them with a smile.

On Wednesdays, Reyes, pastor of Church of Joy, drives one of nine buses that transport children from North Chicago, Round Lake, Zion and the nearby Wisconsin towns of Kenosha and Racine to his kids-only church in Zion.

Not to disparage the pastor’s mission, however holy and honorable it may be. But can you imagine the outrage if it were a Catholic priest driving a bus to lure children to church with toys and candy? Just thinking...

Well, it wasn’t exactly a golden ticket.
But that’s the way I felt. I was excited to receive an invitation to my former pastor’s episcopal ordination. And amazed to find that the blue dot on the ticket sent us to front of the cathedral. Amazing. The whole thing was amazing. I’m still trying to take it all in. Like Embot’s wedding, there was a lot of talk and sweat involved in the preparations...and then it came and went so quickly. I can only imagine how our new bishop feels. The ceremonies were moving. And things went so smoothly that one could hardly guess how much effort went into everything. One of my work pals carried the bishop’s miter in the procession. Despite protestations of nervousness, she performed her duties with extreme ease. Beautiful, beaming and so smooth you would think she did it all the time.

As a mom, I felt admiration (OK...and a little envy) for our new bishop’s mother. One can only imagine the joy that must have been in her heart. And his father, close to ninety, was able to attend. I couldn’t have been the only one there who found a certain bittersweet consonance in the Gospel reading for the Feast of the Presentation.

We were almost disoriented seeing so many people we knew in one location away from home. And so many bishops. (Not moving on the diagonal!) A few knights. We were pleased to be very blessed ‘pawns.’

We love you Fr. Bishop George. Ad multos annos!

Unschooling: It's a child's dream. Wake up whenever you want, with nobody telling you what to do and when to do it. And here's the kicker: No school to rush off to.
It’s my dream, too. And thanks to some sort of stomach bug, I’m spending today ‘unworking.’ School, though, will carry on. Let’s get some more Gatorade, kids...