Little Bird Songs

Whiskey in the Jar

2012-01-28T20:04:00.000-06:00

Finn recently discovered my guitar--I haven't gotten it out in a really, really long time. he likes it a whole lot. he also likes this song. it may have superceded the "Pie Song", even. and I love my son.

sorry the lighting is so bad, and the vids are so short because the battery was almost gone. i hope you get a brief sense, though, of my delightful boy. i am thrilled that they both are turning out to be so intrigued by music. st. cecilia, pray for us!

we ARE what we eat

2012-01-03T14:59:00.000-06:00

nope, i do not have a new year's resolution to post more regularly. i have plenty of topics i could use to post more often, but the truth is that as the boys are getting older, and i am trying to find that elusive thing called "community," that i increasingly want my life to be in teh here and now, in the real physical world. that doesn't mean that i do not spend more than enough time on the computer (also known as "too much time on the computer"), but that if i have any new year's resolutions involving the internet, it is to spend less time on it, not more. so some updates, briefly, before i get down to the "real" post topic:

advent this year was amazing. Advent-Christmas has always been the most exciting and mystical part of the liturgical year for me, until my late twenties when everything was sort of grey. this year, though, with Finn old enough to participate, it was almost like new again. it made me think a lot of Chesterton's, and Lewis's, writings on wonder--how children are full to bursting with it, and how adults often try to cultivate a demeanor of urbane, ennui, cynicism: how sophistication often has been made synonymous with boredom. and how blessed i am to have my child discovering the joy and peace and wonder of the Christ Child, and how beautiful and salvific that was, and is. my awesome crafty friend sarah gave me the materials to make jesse tree ornaments, and it was the perfect way to make Advent more concrete: candles, readings, ornaments, seeing the little tree increasigly decorated with salvation history. and it was beautiful to hear him understand that Christmas is when we celebrate Jesus being born. may the Holy Ghost continue to grow those seeds . . .

because of Finn's allergies, i am forced, more than the average american, i venture to say, to think about food, and about what we put into our bodies. and i have been thinking in general about how much our culture has lost the idea that we are, in point of fact, what we eat. generally, our culture fills up on foods that truly do not satisfy: prepackaged, ultra-processed "foods" that are so far removed from what should come from the earth that we are plagued with allergies, add/adhd, autism, dyslexia, depression, anxiety, picky eaters, obesity, digestive ailments, infertility, and God knows what else.
from a religious perspective, as well, we are plagued with the declining belief in the Eucharist: or, if not in the Real Presence, in its importance: that we are consuming God-made-flesh. yes it's a bit creepy, because mysteries always are. (incidently, small wonder people who deny God are so bored. who wouldn't be bored in a world without mystery? no surprise that they have to fabricate mysteries such as aliens and such.)and did you know that some companies are using strains from aborted babies for food flavorings? apparently jonathan swift and even such bizarre things as soylent green were not so far from the mark. and apparently if one does not eat the Man-God, one will eat men.
anyway, back on track: so, what? have you seen those bumper stickers "no farms, no food?" because the earth is, in a strictly physical way, our mother. our bodies are made of and renew themselves with matter, and the earth is the source of that material. and we have been so blinded and stupified that we now produce three crops over and over, to the point where the soil literally cannot provide the most basic nutrients and minerals, instead pumping chemicals and unnatural amounts of estrogen into our bodies, so that we are created of hormones and laboratory creations. and our land is paved over with cheap roads and cheap houses, and we approach desolation and destruction as fast as we can manufacture it . . .
subsistance living gets a bad rap, and certainly it IS bad when it isn't working. and working to live takes a lot of energy and time. i do not knock labor-saving devices, but we've gotten so far away from the point of labor, and why it should be saved and what it should be saved FOR, that we've lazed our way into idiocy and sickness. many of my own family suffer from high cholesterol, intenstincal disease, obesity . . . and they are not at all willing to look away from their low-fat, highly processed diets and prescription drugs to look at a different way: the way of eating to live, of living in order to eat the foods that God gave us in nature, in the way that nature intended.
i am on a soap-box, i know, and i would apologize if i did not feel so strongly about it, and feel so strongly the desire for my family to eat our way to health, not disease! in body, mind, and soul.
"a garden is a lovely thing. God wot."

31

2011-11-13T07:23:00.002-06:00

Ah, birthdays. I'm sort of a little kid about them, especially mine. I love festivity and decorations and, of course, presents.

Being a Momma makes for a whole different sort of birthday. My "new year" began with a mid-night trip to the hospital. Daddy took the toddler to the ER with a bad attack of croup. Thankfully the baby slept in--he'd been waking up at about 6.20 since the time change--so things could have been much worse. In fact, it ended up being a nearly perfect day: the weather was mild and sunny, which allowed for a lovely run with the boys in our "new" double jogging stroller; hubs took the boys so I could ride and I had a brilliant ride on Nynka; we all drank pints of tea and watched movies and played outside all the rest of the day. Last night I slathered Buddy-Boy with Peppermint Essential Oil, and one called Peace & Calming, and he slept soundly all night long, with no wheezing or rasping or anything--simply wonderful! And we all awoke fresh and happy.

November gets a bad rap in most fiction and poetry, but I've always loved the fading autumn, and here it is the best I've ever seen. The leaves still are changing color, giving us nearly a month of brilliance. The greatest gift I had yesterday was unadulterated joy at my myriad blessings, not least of which is to be back here, in this heart-achingly beautiful country that will always, I think, have my heart.

Things You Never Thought You Would Say

2011-10-26T06:10:00.004-05:00

As a parent, I've found that all sorts of things leave my mouth that never occurred to me that I wouldn't say, things like:

- We don't lick yaks. Who would have thought this would be a problem? But, you know how most alphabet books have a yak for Y? My son likes to lick them. Don't ask. I don't know.

- Don't lick the bubbles. Apparently he just likes to lick things?

- No drinking maple! This one is a bit more plausible. One of my sisters used to hide in the fridge and pump Hershey's syrup into her mouth.

- The trash stays IN the trash. I've said this to dogs before, but not to kids. But my son really likes trash: As in, playing with it.

- Put the poopy diaper IN the trash. My son likes to "throw away" his diapers. See above.

- We do not sing the Pie Song in church. My husband starting singing him "The Day the Music Died" as a bedtime song. We all rue the day, for my son sings it everywhere. He calls it the Pie Song.

contributions, anyone?

Petrochemicals Are Bad.

2011-10-20T06:34:00.006-05:00

See this? It looks beautiful, n'est pas? Brilliant swirls of vermillion ("Red, red, vermillion red")* Do not be decieved by appearances, my friends. This substance is full-on evil. I cannot tell you exactly how my son feels when he ingests the infamous Red 40, but I can tell you how I feel: like I want to take my skin off, or crawl out of my body; like I need extra limbs in order to use the frenetic energy trying to escape my body; like there is a volcano in my brain, one of those bubble-type ones. And then I can also tell you what I see in my son. One time, when Small Son was about 9 months old and was still nursing (nurse nurse), I was very naughty and ate about six strings of red licorice. That night, he was awake for hours, flailing spastically all over, shrieking, and apparently feeling like I felt, more or less. And then last night . . . oh dear God, last night . . . he had some imitation crab meat last night (we had ordered chinese), and it started I think before midnight, and he was up multiple times, on like 150 rpm and more or less frantic. As far as I know, those are the only times he's consumed significant amounts of Red 40, and hopefully we can keep it that way.

Read more about Red 40 from this site, where I got the nifty photo.

*Red, red, vermilion red,

With buds and blooms in a glorious head!
There isn't a flower, the wide world through,
That glows with a brighter hue.
Her name Geranium ev'ryone knows;
She just as happy wherever she grows,
In an earthen pot or a garden bed
Red, red, vermilion red!

-Cicily Mary Barker

To the Altar of God

2011-10-12T17:33:00.007-05:00

I was talking with my dad this morning about one of the things most dear to my heart, which is the Latin Mass. We were discussing it specifically in the context first of Scripture in the Mass, and then of healing, as in, this is one of the things to which I accredit much of my healing.

First: My mum was telling me about "one of the best talks she's ever heard on the changes of the Mass." She said one of these things was the desire to incorporate more Scripture in the liturgy. Thinking of the rotating years of Scripture, that made surface sense to me. I respond here, however with one thought and one objection.

Thought: From a Byzantine Catholic priest, an incredibly holy man, at St. Basil's in Irving, TX, where several of my friends attended Liturgy. Like the Tridentine Rite, the Byzantine Liturgy has a set year of Scripture. Father's observation was that the Church makes it so because it takes us so long to understand the Gospels: every time we hear it we can go deeper. This can apply to the rotating years, too, of course, but consider this: With the rotating-year calendar, by the time you are 30 you have heard three Gospels ten times. With the one-year calendar, you have heard it 30 times. So, more, or more frequently, I suppose. I never get tired of the one-year readings, and I usually forget them by the time I hear them the next year--sure doesn't take me three years for them to leave my consciousness!

Objection: If they wanted more Scripture, why did they cut so much from the canon of the Mass?!

Which was my segue into the "Next", because the Scripture in the Tridentine Mass has brought me to tears more times than I care to tell or remember. It was through these gentle psalms that I permeated through my soul, like music, slipping between the cracks of all the walls I had put up. They taught me that we can approach the Altar of God because we are healed by His joy, and by giving thanks to Him for His good works. In fact, this is how the Mass opens, with the priest standing at the foot of the altar:

I will go in to the altar of God. To God who giveth joy to my youth.

(Psalm 42. Judica Mel)

Judge me, O God, and distinguish my cause from the nation that is not holy: deliver me from the unjust and deceitful man.

For Thou art God, my strength: why hast Thou cast me off? and why do I go sorrowful whilst the enemy afflicteth me?

Send forth Thy light and Thy truth: they have conducted me and brought me unto Thy holy hill, and into Thy tabernacles.

And I will go in to the altar of God: to God who giveth joy to my youth.

To Thee, O God, my God I will give praise upon the harp; why art thou sad, O my soul, and why does thou disquiet me?

Hope in God, for I will still give praise to Him: the salvation of my countenance and my God.

~~~~~

Our help is in the name of the Lord. Who made heaven and earth.

Lest anyone say that pre-Vatican II Catholicism lacked joy! The priest stands at the altar as a sinner waits for repentance and salvation, as Moses stood at the foot of Mt. Sinai, as Christ waited at the foot of Calvary. He prays this Psalm, as a reminder that God, whom he is about to approach at the Altar, is the source of our salvation, hope, joy, and thanksgiving. And then he will ascend, as all in Scripture ascended mountains to find God, to the altar of Our Lord, where he will re:enact Calvary for us, and make our Salvation present in the Eucharist, where he will pray that God will 'Accept . . . this unspotted host, which I, Thine unworthy servant, offer to Thee, my God, living and true' and to 'grant that, by the mystic commingling of this water and wine, we may become partakers of His divinty, who have vouchsafed to partake of our humanity, even Jesus Christ, our Lord.'

Not having "easy access" to a Latin Mass has been perhaps the single biggest hardship of moving to Virginia. My soul yearns for it . . . O Lord, I have loved the beauty of Thy house, the place where Thy glory dwelleth.

photo courtesy of mundabor.wordpress.com

God be with us all, and continue to heal each of us through His grace and beauty.

What To Do on a Rainy Day When Your Toddler Has Refused Naps for the Last Two Days and Awoken at 4 a.m.

2011-09-08T05:46:00.000-05:00

1) Take random mid-week trip to grocery store (aka "choo-choo store"; huzzah for wegmans). Purchase gluten-free cinnamon buns. Come home, make coffee, and try to stay awake.

2) Feed horses, being sure volatile toddler pours grain into buckets. He won't be able to sit on the horses, since they're soaking wet, but be sure he can do something.

3) Stop at hardware store to purchase dowel rods, and punch holes in pie-plates (obtained from previous trip to grocery store), and string up over garden in an effort to discourage blankety-blank chipmunks/birds/squirrels that are digging up fall vegetables.

4) Walk downtown to a) mail package, b) stock up on meat & milk from butcher (also a "special drink" to mollify angry tired son), c) possibly purchase boots from military surplus for horse chores.

5) Above all, try not to shoot oneself, or drink *entire* bottle of gin.

i'll check back in and let you know how this goes. it isn't even 7 yet, and thankfully Loshie-pants went back to sleep. poor kid! his tired cranky brother has woken him up every single time he's tried to sleep for the last 2+ days.

Make Your Own Damn Beer

2011-09-02T13:07:00.000-05:00

this is the slogan of Austin Home Brew Supply, from whence cometh the makings of our beer. or ryan's beer, as the case may be. he just got a new brewing pot, so we finally had a couple of batches fermenting in our pantry. they were just as excited as we were: both batches fermented like crazy. like, all over the pantry, or kitchen, or kitchen sink. if you're not familiar with the process, it first goes into a large 5-gallon fermenter, where it bubbles like crazy for a while. it then transfers to a 5-gallon glass jug, the separator. after it sits in there for about a week, it is time for the fun part: bottling. it's the first time that Finn has been old enough to notice. bottling beer is FUN, even for a not-quite-two-year-old.

The first step is pumping it from the separator to the "Ale Pail." here is the empty jug, with the pump:

that great big metal doodad? that is the capper. it presses down
the spikey metal-edges on the caps.

here it is. check out that rich, dark brew. this is an Imperial Stout. looks it, don't you think?

the Ale Pail has a nifty spout on it, so you can bottle that stout deliciousness. Finn doesn't even know what to do yet, but he's already ready to do it.

he doesn't really want Daddy to help him (although he may be okay with helping Daddy), but this is a firm condition for being allowed near the bottling spout.

once the bottle is nearly full, though, Daddy takes over. otherwise beer ends up on the floor. it really is almost-beer, at this point. when it is in the Ale Pail, extra sugar gets added so the beer will ferment in the bottles. this is how it gets carbonation.

here, he's holding the bottle for Daddy. excitement!

one batch of home brew fills about fifty bottles. we ran out of bottles for the second batch, as we had purged when we moved, so we have jars of beer in our pantry. it's sort of groovy, actually, in that sort of "we make so much beer we ran out of bottles." except not really.

each empty bottle mouth eagerly awaits its turn to drink it down

unfortunately, i could not get a photo of actually capping the beer, 'cause i was helping Finn do that. you put a cap on the bottle, edges all flayed out, and center it just right under the capper. then you push down on that handle. it's a good thing it has so much leverage, because even so i can put my whole weight on it--pick my feet off the ground, even. it has holes in the base so you can bolt it down. maybe when we buy a house. this one is called a mechanical one. ryan said he used to have a hand one--a hand-held device where you use your own self to seal the caps. good thing he upgraded!

and you know what? Finn has outgrown this romper. as he will tell you, "Finn + Losh [are] growing growing growing!"

September

2011-09-01T19:10:00.002-05:00

hey y'all . . . did you know it was September? i didn't. and when my computerized calendar told me today, i refused to believe it. i had to check two others before i would accept that today is, in fact 1 September 2011.

i'm sorry i haven't posted more photos. i have been intending to do so, i promise . . . just haven't been able to! and it's been one heck of a crazy week.

i went to my first fiddle lesson in about three weeks today, and took my great-uncle chuck's violin. it is beautiful, so beautiful, and makes me want to weep. i wish i were more worthy of it, but i shall do my best, and valiantly, i hope!

sweet virginia is blessing us with her cool, crisp, glorious autumn evenings. autumn is beginning to creep over everything, like afternooon shadows. this is the most beautiful time of year in one of the most beautiful places in the world.

something is digging in my garden, and i am *not* happy about it. i'm not sure if it's a squirrel or other rodent or one of the ten bizillion cats infesting our neighborhood, but it is frustrating. in the words of my dear friend, "why can't things just GROW when i plant them?!" it makes me think of the people who settled this country. i have a teeny little garden in my urban little back yard to sort of ease into this gardening thing. they had huge gardens that had to grow or they would die. and sometimes things didn't grow, and they did die. sobering thought.

we had dinner with a family from church last night. they are charming, delightful people whom we hope to get to know much, much better. as we were enjoying our end of dinner drinks and conversation, ryan took Finn in for a diaper change. i won't go into details: the bathtub had to be commandeered, and with kids we can have no pretensions, at all. but we enjoyed the evening nonetheless, and my boys are wonderful troopers. i love them very much and am very proud of them.

and i will try to post the beer story soon, and photos on shutterfly.

Heart and Head, Wind and Rock

2011-08-24T12:47:00.001-05:00

we had an earthquake yesterday. we are all fine, our house is fine, the kids are fine. in fact, they slept through the whole thing. our only casualties were a wine glass, a $2.50 condiment bowl from anthro, some picture frames, and perhaps a bookshelf. since all government buildings were closed early, hubs got home by about 4. when we talked about the quake, i could not help be profoundly impressed by how our reactions illustrated our personalities.
hubs: yeah, at first i thought it was something on base. soon i thought, huh, this must be an earthquake. i just kept typing.
me: WHAT IS ATTACKING OUR HOUSE? HAS A TRAIN DERAILED INTO OUR BACKYARD? **MY KIDS MY KIDS MY KIDS** IT'S AN EARTHQUAKE.

i have lots of posts in my head & my camera, so i will try to get them on here, soon. i am loathing facebook at the moment, so that should free up more time for blog and shutterfly. cheers, friends.

smelling the roses

2011-07-21T19:44:00.001-05:00

you know, i really wish i could be consistent with capitalization. one part of me says, "uphold the standards of the English language!" and another part says, "eh, why bother? what's the big deal all about, anyway"? and thus. . . . and completely irrelevant, but why not begin this way?
because what i was going to say was about rushing around with children. we were walking down the block to my fiddle lesson today, and since Finn walked up & down the street with me the other day, i decided to eschew the stroller today, as well. he did well, wanting to walk the whole way by himself but holding my hand with no fuss across the street. as we were pididdling away, i found myself (surprise surprise) fighting against impatience. but why? i had left plenty of time to get there (and we still got there early, even), and yah, it was hot today (and how!) but still not as hot, or about as hot, i guess, as a regular summer day in dallas. yet i found myself chomping at the bit, having to curb myself every couple of steps from saying "come on now, Finn. let's go." when all he was doing was exploring the world--his world! noticing rocks and cracks and different textures, feeling the difference between the grass and the sidewalk, experimenting with different steps (oh, a boy after my own heart!). and i need to let him; more than let him, i need to help him! because that is my role as a mother, as a parent: not to teach him to rush madly through the world, but to allow him and encourage him to notice things.
not surprisingly, i was playing sharp today--i cannot seem to let go of the rush and the tension. but at least i was able to allow my son to do so. our children can teach us such incredible things if we are humble enough--and patient!

"I am half-sick of shadows"

2011-06-21T09:35:00.000-05:00

said the Lady of Shalott . . .
once upon a time, it seems lifetimes ago now, i sought to escape the troubles of the heart by retreating to the kingdom of the mind. it worked, in more ways than one, because, as so often in my life, the heart-troubles worked themselves out as i untangled my thinking. yet now, one husband, two sons, and three years later, with increasing frequency, i am plagued by the odd feeling that all of this is not really real, as though this cannot possibly be my life that is happening, that surely it is not i who am bearing and caring for children, a home, a husband. well, of course it is, silly!
i am sure part of it is due to sheer exhaustion, that exhaustion of the mind where it appears to absent the body. i wake up, and my physical self feels more or less awake--at least enough to go on autopilot. but my head! my elder son has already contracted the habit of repeating himself: "moredrinkmoredrinkmoredrink", because it often takes several seconds before i am able to register that he is a) speaking; b) speaking to me; c) *asking* me to do something for him. poor kid! and i can do daily tasks, more or less--wash dishes cook meals sweep floors feed nunny don't lie on top of Losh--but please don't ask me to carry on an adult conversation, 'cause honey i just can't!
i know that this too shall pass (what a weary-ing phrase, n'est pas?), and i shall at some point feel as fully human as normal circumstances of life permit. until then, i am striving to remember at every moment that this is NOT a shadow-life, that i am an immortal soul preparing other souls to live in accordance with the glory of God. to that end, Lord, preserve me and all mommas who are seeking to form faithful families.

O-B-E-D-I-E-N-C-E

2011-05-31T20:11:00.000-05:00

when i was little, one of our myriad tapes on faith & virtue had a song proclaiming "obedience is / the very best way / to show that you believe". dealing with my increasinly "two-year-old" son, whom today disobeyed me literally every single time i asked him to do something, the subject naturally has been on my mind quite a bit. as soon as i lay me down on the couch to feed Alastair, Finn takes it as open season for stories--which it is. i do not want him to feel left out. so this evening, whilst my darling husband made dinner and i was maybe half-awake on the couch, Finn brought his cheesey little "children's Bible", containing the story of Noah. "Noah was obedient," says i, "so God saved Noah and Noah saved the animals." having inherited the seeds of defiance, perhaps rebellion, i've never before given obedience qua obediene much thought or credence. tonight it struck me, however: God destroyed the world because they disobeyed. that's it. they just disobeyed. i know this is nothing new, that many of us have heard from the time we can remember understanding that Adam and Eve disobeyed and ate the apple and so God sent them etcetera etcetera. no, but they disobeyed. like when i chose to ignore my parents (the one and only time i did *that* . . . ha), or when my son looks at me when i ask him to come, and runs away instead . . . disobedience can seem such a trivial, insignificant thing, but it isn't. that is the crux of salvation: to obey or disobey. we hear a lot about non servum and that's good poweful stuff, but all that means is choosing to disobey God, like a spoiled or undisciplined child. so when i, as a parent, consider how i need to parent in order to equip my sons with the tools of salvation, it starts here and now: obedience.

more on parenting

2011-05-25T13:08:00.000-05:00

well, the terrible twos are here, and i have been close to tears most of the last week or two. while it is so frustrating and scary to see my sweetheart turn into a defiant willful child, what is at least as alarming has been my reaction to it: ANGER, in no uncertain terms. How dare you defy me? Who do you think you are? well, that is what we're both trying to figure out, and i am not doing such a stellar job helping him. i am torn, too, between not at all wanting to parent by fear, and feeling backed into a corner when he WILL NOT obey. and he is so smart! i am at a loss. if i say, "your choices are to [do] [not do] X or go in time-out," he will choose time-out. i will say, "if momma has to pick that up, i will take it away." "weey", he says, as if to inform me that he could care less if he loses his stories / toys / trains / whatever. and, in the desperate times when i resort to spanking, he will start hitting himself--clearly not a good option or response.
my son is much too much like me, and i do not know what to do.
i realized, reading dr. dobson's parenting the strong-willed child, that the few reasons i did not end up a complete mess are an innate sense of loyalty and duty, and a whole lot of grace and prayer. and i realized, while reading this blog, which is one of the few i actually keep up with, that we as parents need to be able to forgive our children. this obviously is something i have never had the perspective to realize before, but oh boy is it true. of course one reads about, or hears about, or experiences, parents falling out with adult children for one reason or another, but i have found myself thinking or feeling, when Finn apologizes, "sure you are" or "you'd better be" or even "i don't care, you naughty frustrating obnoxious child".
Oh God! from the bottom of my heart, please may i accept the grace you offer, because otherwise the next 18 years are going to be sheer hell.

Meditations of a Sleep Deprived Momma

2011-05-19T12:34:00.000-05:00

thank goodness for the backspace key, first of all! because otherwise my typing would be completely incomprehensible. looking at dance studios down here and trying to figure out how to make it work, between fiddling and needing to move "the girls" down here asap--nanynka is coming 8--EIGHT--and mariah is 26 now. i miss my ponies a lot, and look forward to raising my kids with them as much as possible.
so the level of my brainwaves has sunk to The Devil Wears Prada, besides which i enjoyed the movie (such beautiful beautiful eye candy clothes) so i thought i'd give it a go and (finally!) rambled down to the library. TRIPE. obsence tripe. it was awful--vulgar, seedy, pitifully shallow. i read as much as i did from the fascination of the abomination. i am so much in my little bubble--not the Catholic bubble or the small town bubble but the ever-present jaime-bubble--that i was amazed that apparently most of the modern world thinks and lives this way.
both boys just woke up and in my efforts to coax them back to sleep i rocked on my own foot. how? i have no idea. but my son sat in his bed, categorically refusing to lie down and nap, so i finally caved (i know, i know) and rocked him. he was asleep in 90 seconds . . . how, again, did i end up with The Most Stubborn Child? i know i'm stubborn, but not that stubborn! right now we currently at loggerheads about lunch. who knew it was a punishment to eat all-natural hotdog and homemade french fries?
i have been reading Wives and Daughters. the movie is so charming that i decided to read it, finally, despite the fact that North and South was NOT my most favorite thing ever (the novel; i've only seen part of the film). so far the novel is quite enjoyable; a much lighter tone overall, although we've not gotten full-blown into Osbourne's troubles as of yet.
(no son, you cannot go outside until you eat your lunch.)
we're supposed to have company arriving, but i have no idea when they are coming. so i'm trying to maintain as much order in the chaos as possible.
(Losh says "oooAAAAAAAAAAA", Finn observes.)
i consistently have to fight against vanity, and i received ample ammunition when i discovered, much to my great discomfiture, that i still have over 20 lbs to lose before i fit into my normal clothes. come on, nursing! eat up those pounds! come on, walks! slim that bum!
oh, dear, i need to stop. these meditations are going nowhere fast, although i thought i had a lot to say before i started. so i leave you with this, one of my favourite ballet photos ever.

crazy little thing called sleep

2011-05-17T12:20:00.000-05:00

called sleep, indeed, as in we are not getting any. or very little, at the most. Finn seems to have an active and virulent vendetta against it. we've been trying all sorts of tips and techniques, but to little avail, and every time i put him down, whether for nap or night, i am afraid to breathe lest he awaken. seriously. almost literally. these are not so much fun times in our household. momma said there'd be days like this, indeed--she just neglected to mention how many of them!
other than this, we are doing well. Alastair is growing. he's so strong and alert and is becoming increasingly smiley and chatty, which is such a sweet blessing these days! Finn's lack of sleep is making him a bit cranky and demanding, and he certainly takes after his momma: sensitive, affectionate, intelligent, volatile. his wee little fiddle came yesterday; it's actually a size too big for him, or maybe even a couple of sizes, but he loves it and i love that he has it.
and so the days whirl by, despite the exhaustion and frustration they contain, and already it is mid-may. come quickly, summer and its visitors!

"Lot lot lot tack"

2011-04-28T09:48:00.003-05:00

forget your dolls and other such sweet toys. we're dealing with boys here, and that, my friends, means things with triggers or handles or wheels and engines: things like trains. we inherited a very large collection of tracks & trains from my nephew dominic. i mean, we have everything, even the roundhouse.

finn lost his stories for the day due to a morning tantrum (5 in the morning, no less), so we had to resort to alternative entertainment this morning. so, naturally, we turned to trains. momma decided to build a great big track, lots and lots of track--thus the title, which is Finn's rendition of said phrase. here is my supposed masterpiece:

soon, though, i realized a critical flaw:

those of you with track building experience will recognize it: the train is stuck on that one little circle. all that glorious track, and it got stuck on one little circle. i groaned inwardly as i recalled that building wooden thomas tracks takes an engineering degree. so i made one little switch and thought proudly, and falsely, that i had solved the problem. this was overly optimistic: the train was now stuck on a slightly larger circle. so i started rummaging for just the right piece, which means that all of the connecters have to be in the right spots and all the curves in just the right direction. this is no small task. here you see but a small portion of all the track at our disposal:

i confess i began to get a bit frantic as the proper combinatino of curves and connecters avoided me. i could only find pieces like this:

oh no. i so am not up for that right now. i don't know if even we have enough track to introduce that piece, and certainly neither Finn nor i has the patience. with a little bit of rearranging and finagling, though, i finally did it! here is. room for multiple trains, complete with trestle bridges, hills, points, lots of loops, even a tunnel.

Finn really isn't quite old enough to understand the tracks, though, let alone appreciate such a work of english-major-turned-railroad-constructor's art. sure enough, far less than five minutes after i finished, the destruction had begun.

ah, c'est la vie. so we went outside on the front porch to watch the "lot lot lot lot lot lot lot lot lot lot wreen." someday soon, i've no doubt, momma's days will be spent building all kinds of tracks that will get used for more than hammers.

cuppa the finest

2011-04-19T09:38:00.000-05:00

(or: in case anyone was wondering about my addictive personality)
coffee has always been somewhat a major part of my life. from my tenderest years, our after Mass routine on Sunday included a pot of the blackest (decaf) coffee, liberally supplemented with cream and sugar. later, in high school, coffee came to supplement my increasing daily ration of cigarettes, especially my junior year, when i spent more time at big boy's imbibing obscene quantities of obscene quality coffee and chain smoking for hours than i did at school. this routine continued with only minor variation at college. by my senior year i was drinking six cups a day or more--it was the only thing available between meals. there was no improvement in the quality, either. my friend alex said it tasted "like the color brown." i don't know if i've ever heard a better description of anything.

my daily cup of what the Irish call "white coffee".
mmmmmm, cream.

in grad school, even when the smoking quit, the coffee certainly did not. it became a comforting routine as my roommate and i bonded over our daily cups and developed a true friendship, which continued even after my marriage. during my first pregnancy, my daily cup kept my blood pressure at levels somewhat necessary to sustain life.
while the mothers were here over baby time, i had a big ol' cup of coffee every morning, served up to me with first-class thoughtfulness. i hadn't been drinking more than the occasional cup of coffee while pregnant, because it just didn't agree (another difference from Finn), and i thought, especially since it was lent, there would be no need to continue pampering myself. not only that, despite the fact that i've been drinking coffee since i was about six, it doesn't taste quite the same.
but i can't stop.

the ol' memory lane ramble

2011-04-14T10:05:00.001-05:00

I recently acquired a load of boxes from my parents' attic. Upon opening them, I discovered that they date from when we moved into that house my junior year of high school, almost 15 years ago now. They haven't been opened since, and sorting through them was painful and hilarious. A brief catalogue of their contents as follows:

Of this dress, I have absolutely no memory. I certainly never wore it.

so hot, 20 years ago

It looks like something straight from gofugyourself.

These beauties. Anyone else remember these? They could be found under the description of "Fashion Star Fillies." As you can see by the shorn one in front (haircut courtesy of my younger sister), they sport a star on their cheekbones. They cost the mighty sum of $10, each. I loved them.

front to back: Dara, Nikki, Calli

The very bedraggled basket of silk flowers I carried at my aunt's wedding when I was eight (seven?).

so proud of these, for so long

My fairy-tale princess dress that my aunt made for me, also around the age of eight. It came complete with hat and flowing veil. I suppose, in the event I don't have any daughters, it shall pass to my niece, if she wants it, although right now she's only three months old.

this once clothed Snow White in an elementary school play.

Who isn't jealous of these, though? Here is a total of three, maybe even four, Sylvanian Families. I was pretty stoked to unearth these:

Wee woodland creatures! With clothes!

especially this guy!

because all bear cubs sleep in cradles

Other items included my research paper from 10th grade (on suicide), myriad cards from all ages and occasions, dried up yet still sticky paint-by-number paints, half finished paint-by-number pictures, a couple of random Christmas ornaments, and God knows what else. Some of it was fun to discover: the score sheets from my piano guild competitions (I could have been decent if I'd stuck with it), my art folders from high school (not too bad!), a birthday card from my cousin Carl, who passed away last August. I try to draw the line between pack-rat and worthy keepsakes, and hope I haven't gotten rid of anything I will regret. I'm pretty sure not, but who knows? More time will tell . . .

Missing Pieces

2011-04-01T20:13:00.000-05:00

And even though the moment passed me by
I still can't turn away
Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose
Got tossed along the way
And letters that you never meant to send
Get lost or thrown away

Sometimes this song gets stuck in my head, and lately i've been thinking of this a lot. I am rereading Hannah Coulter for the first time since i read it . . . six years (?!) ago now, and I keep thinking that I lost something somewhere, somehow. I got spoiled in Dallas, living so close to people (even though I still hardly saw anyone, it seems: or, to rephrase, I didn't even come close to taking full advantage of what I had), and I let it spark a fear in me--that fear of becoming isolated, because i *don't* make friends easily, and of being alone. I yearn to regain something i never had, something I think I've wanted my whole life--communion with the land without sacrificing community.

but there is a love of the land i had, a love of nature and outside and sunshine and cold and rain that used to be unquenchable in me, and it somehow atrophied--maybe being in the city, maybe seeing sunrise sunset always in context of skyscrapers and smog and city traffic, maybe through despairing loss followed by ethereal europe and then a shaky transition where 14 18 21 and 25 were all the same thing, and then came love and healing and sons and so much city, and shopping and coffee and some vague sort of cosmopolitan (mmmm)-urbanite something-or-other. what happened? to:
simplicity hardwork weeding earth quietness slow solitude contentment open spaces night sky (i love f-burg, but my soul aches for stars) animals!
the sacrifice of working with and for the rest of creation, to elevating it and living in it and finding sanctification in it. i miss these things. most of all, i miss that self.

Into Great ___ness

2011-03-30T13:07:00.000-05:00

i am not even fully conscious, right now, and merely hope that spilling out some of these thoughts will be a bit of a pressure valve: the dog has to go*my kid won't sleep*should i be this irritated when people refuse to spell Finn's nick-name the way i do?*i hate that my darling is so exhausted*i hate that i am so exhausted*why won't Finn sleep?*sometimes i don't hold my baby for a couple of hours and it bothers me*the dog is half of finn's world, in a way*i will be glad to be up and about again*especially if i can get some sleep*baby is crying; where is he?*if i read Guess How Much I Love You? one more time i'm going to wommit*ah, james herriot*movies are good, but even good ones are a waste of time*i admit that i will not miss the dog pacing and whining around the house*it's getting cold again*why won't Finn sleep?*here comes my baby . . .

. . . And Baby Makes Four

2011-03-27T14:32:00.003-05:00

Welcome, Alastair Joseph! born on the Solemnity of St. Joseph, and i am so very awed that he gave our baby such a gift. i also am delighted to have another boy!
Alastair: Irish form of 'Alexander'; 'defender of men'
Joseph: for St. Joseph, naturally
6 lbs, 7 oz, 19-3/4 in.
as with Finn, the majority vote was "girl"; everything was completely different from Finn--pregnancy, labor, delivery, post-partum. he seems a very mellow fellow, crying only briefly upon birth and straight away settling into contemplation. Finn loves our baby, especially his nose:

already alert

Finn, can you say "Alastair"?
Nose!
Al-a-stair.
Bee! (baby)
Al-A-Stair.
Losh!
so baby "Losh" (sort of between "Lash" and "Losh", really). we are all well and happy, and i have thus far concluded that one main purpose of second babies is to let us know that, despite our vast experience as the mother of ONE child, we actually know nothing at all.
because let me tell you, feeling like one can be a "good mom" is *easy* when there is just one child involved. Finn is such a good, sweet, gentle, obedient boy, but he is still a boy, and a toddler. Alastair is a very laid-back baby, but he is still a baby, and i already see clearly how easy it is to become obsessive about mothering, demanding of myself that i meet every need of each child instantly. the reality, of course, is that at times one or the other is going to have to cry for a few minutes, that one is not going to be able to have momma, that both will have to realize that he is not the center of the universe and instant gratification does not, in fact, actually exist--especially not in this family!
in other, slightly sadder news, our very brief dog days are at an end, as "Warla" learned she can jump the fence. my poor darling spent well over an hour chasing her around Fredericksburg yesterday, through construction zones and across busy streets and over the railroad tracks. which means not only that she must go, but that she will have to stay inside (excepting potty on a leash) for the next week. fun times. and so sad. i have wanted a dog for so long, and so very badly wanted my boys (boys!!) to grow up with one. it was such a gift for me to have that as a kid. c'est la vie . . . at least they'll have each other!

Serenity

2011-03-18T08:47:00.001-05:00

because isn't that what lent is about, what sacrifice and waiting are about, anyway? but knowing serenity and feeling serenity--ah, now there's the rub. because i can know in my head all sorts of things: worrying about when this baby is going to come, about family logistics, about recovery and help and the dog and the arriving cat (!!!) and how my *very* momma's boy is going to adjust to a new baby and that he still wants me the vast majority of the time, even though he looks forward all day to his Daddy coming home. worrying about being very much the marching-to-a-different-drum factor in certain parts of our family and how that is going to play out.
when i pray to st. joseph, then, for instance, what does it mean if i still "feel" anxious? if the feelings of stress and anxiety still pervade the undercurrent of my being? how much is trust a "feeling," when it is these "feelings" that are causing the turmoil? this has been a somewhat debated question of late, and the answer to which i keep returning, with growing conviction, is that while feelings are, of course, important indicators in some sense, they are not really all that important in the spiritual life; i.e., if i "feel" anxious about something, choosing not to be anxious does not mean those feelings go away. i may still have feelings of worry, but they cannot be the guide by which i make my decisions or the source for my will, my choosing. those fickle, fickle things! that can be beautiful, ugly, terrifying, restless . . . perhaps one way in which we will be restless until we rest rest in God since, for some, our emotions will lead us until grace and virtue restore the prelapsarian heirarchy with the will as leader.
and when i start writing like that, i know it's time to stop.

nostalgia of a different sort

2011-03-07T06:55:00.001-06:00

God i remember feeling this way so strongly. Thank You that You wanted more for me than i wanted for myself.

but isn't that the way it so often goes? we think we are so certain, and that we know exactly what we are willing to sacrifice, and He wants a different sort of sacrifice--the sort of suffering that brings joy and salvation, not the pleasure-tinged pain of indulging whims and half-understood heartbreak.
but it's still a great song, and perhaps a risk that we take even without knowing it.

Snatching and Thrills

2011-02-24T10:14:00.003-06:00

"People get from books the idea that if you have married the right person you may expect to go on 'being in love' for ever . . . In this department of life, as in every other, thrills come at the beginning and do not last. The sort of thrill that a boy has at the first idea of flying will not go on when he has joined the R.A.F. and is really learning to fly. The thrill you feel on seeing some delightful place dies away when you really go to live there. Does this mean it would be better not to learn to fly and not to live in the beautiful place? By no means. In both cases, if you go through with it, the dying away of the first thrill will be compensated for by a quieter and more lasting kind of interest. What is more (and I can hardly find words to tell you how important I think this), it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to sober interest, who are then most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction."
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
I don't have it handy, but in Gaudy Night, Dorothy Sayers has a variation on this theme: It is the people who snatch at things, especially love, who, in actuality, do not know what they want and will never attain happiness, let alone love or joy. I read this passage in Lewis and have not been able to shake it from my mind, constantly turning over people I know, some who are so very dear to me, who are unable or at least unwilling to submit to the loss of the initial thrill and so flit from one thing to another, trying to maintain that level of living that is impossible and unfulfilling, both. I have been thinking of it in my own life, too, of the loss of that sort of intense, blinding, world-shattering love and accepting a much quieter, more peaceful sort of love. At times I nearly despised myself for it, thinking I was "settling" or "giving in," but it is neither of those things. Huge conflagrations die out--sometimes immediately, sometimes after burning for days or weeks or months or even years. They take too much to maintain. They are too big for themselves. And, more often than not, they are destructive. It is the hearth fire that can burn for years, that provides heat and warmth without consuming everything in its vicinity, that can be maintained and used and enjoyed in the actual living of life. It is the hearth fire, too, that gives the sort of light that one needs to enjoy and explore the new "thrills." When faced with the forest fire, one has no capacity for looking at other things--the fire dominates.
Applied to pleasure in general: Consider for a moment the sorts of things that modern media encourages. It is all about finding the "thrill," about moving from one experience to another, without cohesion or understanding or even necessarily enjoyment--anything to keep from growing bored, to keep from seeing emptiness. For snatching at thrills, whether in art, love, food, music, or anything else, is in fact nothing more than the desperate attempt to hide one's one emptiness, futility and despair.

city mouse and country mouse

2011-02-17T12:01:00.000-06:00

my whole life, more or less, i have wanted LAND. space. quiet. peace to come dropping slow with crickets and linnets' wings. i am finding myself in the disconcerting position of questioning this, however, adn am not quite sure what to make of it--or myself.
country mouse says: fool, of course you want land! and horses and chickens and a big garden and maybe a goat. stars at night, and clean fresh air. no road noise, or grease-dive smells, or factories or trains or sirens. no neighbors peering around every corner or strangers walking down the street swearing on their cell phones.
city mouse responds: yes, have all that . . . and nothing else. no community. no friends around the corner or a few blocks away. a 20 minute drive to everything, everywhere. random, isolated neighbors, or a close-knit community that doesn't readily welcome strangers. what about walking to the local butcher shop, coffee shop, book shop, violin shop? a five minute, one mile walk to Church, which it's hard enough to get motivated for, anyway? adding who knows how long to husband's commute, further lessening his time with home and family, further increasing stress, requiring another car?
for, truth be told (as if it were not painfully obvious), neither ryan nor i make friends easily, and i worry already about being too isolated, spending days holed up--yes, with fresh air and kiddos and animals, but without *people*. i have come to appreciate so greatly the importance of being surrounded by community, both religious and local. truth be told, the sort of farming community, or even country community, is rarely possible. some are lucky enough to be raised in it, in which case they have inherited it; a very few are lucky enough to be able to create it. clearly the former is not an option and, as of now, neither is the latter. which leaves--please, God, at least a decent yard and an old house!

an update for T

2011-02-03T20:00:00.000-06:00

we are continuing the arduous process known commonly as "settling in" . . . unpacked more boxes today; now all that is left are some pictures to hang and some books for which to acquire another shelf. progress, indeed! we are having our first company on saturday: a momentus occasion, and i am worried about my desire for as near-perfect presentation as possible colliding with my severe physical limitations. of course, in this case, the body must needs win.
i found a ballet studio that i want to inquire more closely into. it is within walking distance. in fact, finn and i walked by it the other day; i mosied into the building, trying to seem oh-so-nonchalant, but when i saw that the studio is on the FOURTH floor, i looked at my todder, my stroller, and my belly, and retreated. maybe in a few months. although, i am certain that regular dance would help everything, and so am trying to compensate (and maintain my balance) my doing at least a few plies and stretches at home. i won't tell you how often i am able to accomplish that very simple (and helpful) goal.
today, i spent quite a bit of time running errands and cleaning house, with the end result of having nothing for dinner when my darling husband came home. FAIL stamped itself in large letters across the front of my forehead. thank God, my husband, my dearest one, is such a kind and gracious man. we ordered pizza with pancakes for Finn and all was well. still, i cannot at all shake the conviction that my priorities were slightly disordered. on the other hand, pleading again those aforementioned physical limitations . . .
this babe will be here in a few weeks. not months, but weeks. i am not quite sure what to do about that. it seems a far, far more daunting task than i can think about preparing for adequately. heck, i can't even think about it without shrinking into denial. not even the desire to have my body and waist back urge me towards over-eager anticipation. i am scared. there it is, in black and white, and i'll keep admitting it.
9:00 = Pumpkin Time: I am one tired momma. in closing:
this week, overall, has been fairly mundane, neither good nor bad, better or worse than usual. in the not unpleasant monotony, however, i have found myself enjoying the company of my son. he's great! funny, helpful (usually), easy to please (most of the time), and so excited to explore the world and life in general. everything is exciting, and his joy gives me such pleasure. and if he's a bit difficult when tired, i am the last person with any room for impatience in that regard! but what a novel thing. i don't remember hearing about this too often: that one's children, even now, when the demands still often outweigh the giving, our children can be *chums*.

crazy little thing called motherhood

2011-01-14T06:52:00.000-06:00

this year truly begins a new year, and literally a new life . . . we are all adjusting: to the cold, to hubs working all day, to a house that requires much more energy and up-keep than our <600 sq.ft. condo, and also much more opportunity for play, including a yard! a double lot, no less. God has blessed us abundantly: i am more convinced now than ever that when He makes us wait for things, it is because He is preparing very, very good things indeed.
blessings do not come without "growing pains," however, as my sister-in-law termed them. it has been very difficult for both finn + momma, to have daddy gone all day. every single morning this week has begun far too early, in that my son wakes up when he is still tired, and with a tantrum or series of tantrums, because he is tired, hungry, and confused about daddy leaving. it is not an easy time for me: i wake up still tired and in no frame of mind, attitude, or strength of virtue to deal with the only way that he knows to express his many and sometimes conflicting desires. feeling, also, the burden of "keeping house" in a true sense for the first time, as well as the strong, impatient urge to unpack and settle in, checked by the needs of my toddler and my inside baby, has been a whole new lesson in patience.
because i am one impatient momma, and am i ever realizing the extent of it!
i know many things in my head, know and even cherish them: that my children are part of my path to heaven, that there is abundant joy and blessing in a "full quiver," that this house is in a location and with amenities (double lot = 1/4 acre!; 3 bedrooms, claw-foot tub) that we scarcely dared to hope for. but i am realizing, too the tremendous amount of maturity, self-sacrifice, and virtuous attitude that a true home requires of a mother. my confessor in dallas, whom i will miss tremendously, repeatedly reminded me that the mother is the heart of the home, and whatever is in the mother's heart will be in the home. i can see this from my own mother and home, and how her growth has given a different atmosphere to my younger sisters. and i tremble to think of what my impatience, frustration, exhaustion, and loneliness are bringing into my own home. the only answer, of course, is prayer: of thanksgiving, of supplication, of deep love of our Lord.
nothing comes "no strings attached," and any amount of true happiness is completely incompatible with selfishness. selfishness will require that we continuously suck the joy from others in order to maintain our illusions of contentment, freedom, whatever--when, in fact, only "in dying are we born to eternal life."
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the LIving God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

quick update from the Old Dominion

2010-12-15T17:49:00.000-06:00

i have a whole little log about our trip down & all, but it is somewhere in our still-full car and i do not want to go out in the very Very Cold to get it for you. so you will have to wait. suffice to say that we are here, with our dear friends in strasburg. finn tolerated the car, overall, surprisingly well and i am so very proud of him. i bawled like a small child when we said good-bye to artemis--saying goodbye to dear dallas friends was too emotional to cry. we are moving our things into storage tomorrow, checking out houses or at least fredericksburg, wedding on saturday, and michigan when we feel like it since my mum has decided not to have surgery as scheduled.
we are happy to be here, albeit *very* tired still and trying to make heads and tails of things. please keep all of this move-job-house business in your prayers.
Gaudete!

thirty, fun and . . . flirty?

2010-11-12T08:12:00.000-06:00

well, and married, at any rate! and much happier that way than jennifer garner's character ever was, i think. and mark rufalo(?)'s sort of a jerk in real life, anyway, is my understanding.
it was a very early morning, that started around 5 with a coughing fit--my poor baby! and then a poopy diap. hubs is gone; left yesterday and will not return until 9 pm . BUT i have dance this morning, and then i think i will go to anthro: what better way to celebrate myself than with an anthro discount??? also it's raining today :D which, while it dampens any outdoor plans, means coolness and greyness and everything else that delights my scots-welsh-irish soul. hubs IS gone, though . . . but i keep thinking how much more awfuller it could be: no hubs to be gone, and no boy with whom to be home alone!!!! and there are so many good friends around that i suspect we will be able to pass the day in relative ease.
with that in mind, then, i shall raise my eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my Help, and rejoice in all that He has given to me.
and to think how bad it could really be: i could be kim kardashian.

the Freedom of Structure

2010-11-03T21:31:00.000-05:00

so i haven't been following it perfectly, but i made up a schedule--not for every moment, but for mornings and evenings, in attempt to get in the essentials of every day, and to organize my week in general--roughly after A Mother's Rule, although i haven't actually read it. it is amazing what happens when i do certain things, roughly at a certain time, with each day's duties to be done. i have spare time! extra moments in my day--an amazing thing. i could apply this principle to all sorts of things--morality, art, "roles" of the spouses. the reality, though, is simply that "rules" and "structure" and "order"--all of those now-taboo words--provide *freedom*, because they give tasks to certain moments, leaving the rest . . . for living.

(not) Weaning

2010-10-21T20:48:00.000-05:00

oh, no; not even close. holy cats, batman, not even close. it is not an easy thing, i assure you. i would love for him to be weaned . . . but he clearly is not ready, not emotionally or psychologically or even, i think, physically. i suppose he knows what his little body needs, and since he is *very slowly* beginning to outgrow some of his food allergies--at least one, if not two--i do not want to push him to wean, especially since the stress of that could augment his allergies or cause new ones. no, thank you!
otherwise, things are going so well. he is such a dear boy . . . a couple of days ago he started saying daddy: "dah-ee!" and now says it all the time. not just a new word, either--it means something to him, very much. it is as if he is so delighted that he can express his desire for his daddy that each new enunciation is a delight to him. he knows several animals sounds, although his favorite by far is "dog" and he will walk around woofing to himself. he really likes dogs.
ryan has finished his dissertation and i have been editing it; not for content, of course, but for nit-picky "english" things like split infinitives, commas, and noun-pronoun & noun-verb agreement. considering he wrote several portions of it well past midnight or after waking at 4 a.m., it is not surprising that some of these should be a little wonky. but it is an impressive piece of work, that's for sure. small wonder that our kid is so smart, with that daddy! (i'm not saying i'm stupid, not at all, but ryan's mind is . . . amazing unique thorough discerning etcetera).
that is all, for now. we ordered some photos off shutterfly, and i delight in looking at my boy through the past year. he is so darn cute and funny and wonderful. as long as this next one is as awesome as he is . . .

Catholic travesty

2010-10-11T13:30:00.000-05:00

in a previous post, i briefly discussed the some of the problems that have plagued consecrated religious--specifically, religious women--namely, feminisim. here we find another: when prominent "Catholic" figures (PELOSI, e.g., and now this woman) are more loyal to political figures than to religious figures: indeed, when they have replaced their legitimate religious authority with political authority, then this is a sure sign of a ubiquitious, and iniquitious, problem in the Roman Catholic Church.
the bishop of dallas, Most Reverend Kevin Farrell, came to bless our new church this past saturday. he is a perfectly ordinary bishop, not affiliated with anything that anyone could call "extreme." he announced in his homily that recent surveys show that 3% of so-called Catholics still believe in the real presence of the Eucharist. this is beyond problematic. but it is the cause of the symptoms appearing here: when a "catholic" nun flaunts the bishops, aligns herself with obama, and flat-out lies about healthcare.
something is wrong . . . seriously, seriously, seriously wrong, and i am alarmed, to say the least. as well as spittin' mad. this has got to end, and end soon. the Body of Christ cannot carry such corruption in itself forever and stay alive. i have heard rumours of a "smaller, purer Church".
how long, Lord, how long?

the House Next Door

2010-10-10T13:33:00.001-05:00

air conditioning in october? seriously? seriously?? alas, dear friends, it is the case. it is like an inverse narnia. BUT things are looking up, and the weather IS cooling, surely albeit slowly. in the meanwhiles, to keep dreams alive . . .

aristotle says that there are "impossible-probables" and "improbable-possibles." i saw this house in strasburg. it sits on 7 acres, next to my dear hatke friends, with fences and ponds and some cute (and not-so-cute) outbuildings. it is neither of aristotles probable-possibles, just flat-out improbable AND impossible. but someday, my friends, some day . . . finn + [?] will have goats and chickens and ponies and a dog--maybe even two! and we will have a home like this.

Autumn

2010-09-28T12:41:00.002-05:00

being abandoned on the surface of the sun, this is when my heart hurts the most. i miss

color leaves apple orchards cider mills cold mornings frost on the grass frisky frollicking ponies smell of dead leaves and fir fires and smoke stark branches against morning sky crisp sunsets virginia shenandoah hills riding bareback on a cold day against a warm horse leaf raking parties sweaters apple picking baking berry pies soup outside ponies bike rides

i miss my ponies all year round, but this time of year most especially. i love riding with the sound of crunching leaves, when the "girls" have that extra autumn "zip."
also virginia, and this is how i feel towards it; i sing this song to it:

my deepest parts bleed the prayer that next year i will be living amidst a true autumn. please God.

intimate strangers

2010-09-25T15:38:00.000-05:00

life seems to be easier in autumn.
even here, where there is not much in the way of foliage, and things turn a rich, lush, transient green with hurricane rains before succumbing suddenly to a dry winter brown, the cooler winds, the thunderstorms, and mild nights dull the edge of the sweltering summer heat.
family in all of its forms is a funny thing, and has been weighing on my mind lately. with these random people, the ones we cannot choose and the ones that we indirectly choose through marriage, we are forced into most intimate terms, and it can be so easy to take things for granted. my own family boasts about as many different varities of personalities as one could wish to find: the social butterfly, the dreamer, the artist, the lawyer, the servant, the scholar--and any number of combinations and permutations of these qualities. it seems to me that the most difficult thing is not to take people for granted: not to assume that even those closest to you think the same way about things, and, even more so, to actively strive to understand these differences. it is one thing to accept, and something else altogether to understand. it is a fundamental premise of the most basic Christian love to accept the differences of others: it is true charity to strive to understand them, and to welcome our intimate family-strangers to our hearts precisely because they can offer the richness of perspective. it is so easy to get caught up in those circles where all one's friends think the same way, and i think it can be very difficult for us to break out of that mindset. it certainly is a challenge to our comfort zones! and can be an awkward, uncomfortable process to break away from the limits that we set for ourselves.
life is never easy, and others and the challenges they bring are the only opportunity we have to practice virtue--for it is no virtue to love the like-minded.
and with all that said . . . after watching the man from snowy river, boy do i miss my ponies more than ever!

the Silmarillion

2010-09-14T21:22:00.001-05:00

i first started, or attempted to start, the Silmarillion in high school--i think. i read the first chapter or two several times, but for some reason, could not persevere. i began again this year or early last, determined to at least "get through" it. as i started reading Lord of the Rings for the second time this year, however, i realized that i, finally, actually *wanted* to read it. i want to know all the history of the ring, of Middle Earth, of the heros and sorrows and "great deeds not wholly vain" (more on that here). i also have been pondering for several months Tolkien's conception of heroism. there is on my bookshelf a study of Tolkien and redeeming myth, which i have yet to read, but i am excited about these things. i am excited to be thinking, analyzing, understanding. i try to explain to people that the reason i was so frustrated as a child was because i never understood anything, and i couldn't wait to grow up and understand things. (curious term, this "under-standing", as if our knowledge of things causes them to be. perhaps it is a faint echo of our feeble participation in the creative powers of God. but i digress (fancy that)).

along similar lines, i (also finally) finished a sample essay on Northanger Abbey for "my" students. but i have been thinking of Austen again, and this her first novel contains at least the seeds of nearly all her main themes: family, imagination, education, guidance and teaching, self-knowledge and virtue, and the connection to, or rather necessity for, all of these things to love--that genuine, true, deep love of one for another. she was an amazing woman, this MIss Austen. i remember when choosing a novel for my 12th grade Brit Lit research paper, my teacher cautioned us that no matter how much we loved our novel at first, we would hate the sight of it by the end of the project. thirteen years later, after the research paper, five or six years of grading half-baked essays on it, and taking a grad course on Austen, i still deeply love Pride and Prejudice, to which my guardian angel lead me, and still discover new things in it. i need to better order my days, so that i can write on Austen. and do it now, for now is all i have.

also, i have such a sweet boy. he is so precious. new photos up on shutterfly.

the House-Band

2010-09-06T10:39:00.001-05:00

"This is the sort of shelf on which young wives and mothers may consent to be laid, safe from the restless fret and fever of the world . . . walking side by side, through fair and stormy weather, with a faithful friend, who is, in the true sense of the good old Saxon word, the 'house-band.'"
~Little Women

and he's home! it's amazing what a difference it makes when Hubs is home. finn and momma go a little bit crazy when daddy is gone. it's a different world, a different home, when he is here to calm storms, coax stubborn boys to sleep, soothe wound-up wife, and in general provide a shelter from the storm. i thank God for him, and do not know what i would do without him!

the Privilege of Being a Woman

2010-09-04T10:45:00.002-05:00

recently the subject has arisen vicariously of the role of women in the Church. a dear family member was becoming incensed with my brother because he disagrees that women should be priests. this position has a dual-part premise, both aspects of which are troubling, to say the least.
the first is this notion that has plagued the Church in recent decades, that the only way (or at least the main way) to "get involved" is to be in the Sanctuary. as a result, missions, sodalities, special devotions, "social justice" & outreach programs, and so forth, have largely disappeared. everyone is trying to participate in one aspect of the Priesthood of Believers: the priest "proper". even the choir often tries to get as close to the altar as possible.
specific to women, this notion assumes one very troubling and insulting thing: that the role of woman qua woman is insufficient, inferior, and even worthless. that to be a woman in the Church, with the unique gifts and roles of wife, mother, daughter, sister--physical or spiritual--is not good enough. i cannot really think of anything more insulting: what i have to offer isn't wanted, so i need to be . . . a man. since when is fatherhood superior to motherhood, physical or spiritual?
the priest exists to empower (to hijack a feminist phrase) the laity. he is there to serve the Church, so that the Church might serve the world. in recent history, however, the Church has been so busy fighting over who will serve itself that it has been neglecting the world.
women are vital to the Church. it is no coincidence that the enemies of the Church--from Luther to Cromwell to the French Revolutionaries to the Communists and so forth--have outlawed convents. their first attack is against the praying women, because these women are the life and soul and heart of the Catholic--the Universal--Church. satan has never been so successful in these attacks, however, as when he convinced the praying women themselves that their role was negligible. and as opposed to the outer attacks, which gave hope, strength, and glory to the Church through martyrdom, the whole Church has suffered--and still does--from this interior rebellion.
Alice von Hildebrand, my "hero", has written a short little book called The Privilege of Being a Woman, where she discusses the devaluing of femininity underlying feminism. Donna Steichand addresses the deliberate feminist attack on the Church in Ungodly Rage, which i highly recommend. most of all, however, we need prayer: that these wounded women, convinced that they've been shoved to the sidelines, find healing in the mysteries of the Church, in the mysteries of their own womanhood. and that we strive to fulfill our womanhood in a way that gives the lie to the feminist attacks.
Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom, Tower of Ivory, Mystical Rose, pray for us!

Sleeplessness, Saints, and Mothers, pt. II

2010-09-02T19:04:00.001-05:00

a long, reasonably restful night last night gave way to a single one-hour nap today. that's a long time for a boy to be awake, and a long time for momma to "deal" with him on my own. not wanting another night to begin at 5.30, i managed to keep him awake a bit longer . . . and as i rocked my sleeping cuddly boy, i realized what is perhaps obvious: sleeplessness is so hard because it means a dying to self. i get tired, and selfishness literally takes over. I am tired, and I must get the sleep that I want because I deserve it, and I want to read this book and I want to work on that project and I want . . . myself to be the center of the universe. watching finn hang on the front of my trousers and whine and wail up at me, i am ashamed to think of how often, every day, i do that very thing to God.
when my sisters were younger my mum had a question she would ask when they began spatting. it was one of those "mom" questions that make one roll one's eyes in irritation, not least because one doesn't want to admit the answer. she would ask, "who is on your throne?" my priest quoted bob dylan this past weekend, from the song "gotta serve somebody." and then he reminded us that when the Cross is heaviest is when we are closest to Christ, and in fact that is the only place we can find Him.
so, if sleeplessness is my Cross right now, God help me to accept the grace that Christ offered in Gethsemane--"Can you not watch one hour with Me?" no, Lord, on my own i cannot. but what i cannot do, You can, and may Your grace always be sufficient for me.

Robinson Crusoe

2010-09-02T10:20:00.000-05:00

this book has a bad rap, it seems, and i am not entirely certain as to why. it has adventure, ruggedness, a still-unique story, and i do not find it excessively preachy. it has a strong emphasis on Providence and finding God, but why should this be a bad thing? if literature is supposed to prepare for life, and teach through the back door--or even the side door or front door--why is this a negative? i suppose if you don't want to hear about God and His Providence, this would diminish the pleasure of it, but it seems that is a fault in the reader, not the novel. i'm currently working up an essay on Crusoe for work, and i find myself enjoying it quite a bit. they had quite a lot of wisdom, those old protestants, along with their prejudices. and who doesn't want, at least in some secret life, build an entire kingdom from nothing?

stumbling across old favourites

2010-09-01T18:00:00.002-05:00

yes, i use british spelling. not because i want to be hoity-toity, but because it's prettier!
i recently found this album when i was reorganizing CDs, and i forgot how much i love this song. then again, it's robert burns, so what's not to love?

Sleeplessness, Saints, and Mothers

2010-09-01T08:19:00.000-05:00

have you ever noticed that saints don't sleep? or, they sleep for about three hours a night and spend the rest of the darkness deep in prayer. they do not sleep out of choice, because their burning desire for communion with the Highest is more important than "Brother Ass." they also have near-perfect command over their bodies, so that their physical desires have ceased to have any influence over their actions or wills.
mothers don't sleep, either, but not for these reasons. mothers don't sleep because their babies decide that it's great fun to be awake and enjoying life for four hours in the middle of the night, or because children are throwing up, or because teenagers are late coming home. and being an adult, specifically a mother, means that there is no one else to take care of these things. you are the one being called upon, rather than the child calling out. and the responsibilities with their trials of sleeplessness do not end when the babies start growing up.
i was pondering these things when finn was, in fact, awake for four & half hours the other night, just chatting away, flailing himself awake whenever he started to fall asleep, making all the noises that are so cute and endearing and funny at 2 in the afternoon. funny how the perspective changes, n'est pas? and then i was thinking about saints, how they do not sleep because they are holy. mothers, on the other hand, must become holy because we cannot sleep. through sleeplessness to God!

Monday with a Vengeance

2010-08-30T15:31:00.000-05:00

"And now, my son, waste no time on questions, but obey. This damsel is wounded. Your horses are spent. Rabadash is at this moment finding a ford over the Winding Arrow. If you run now, without a moment's rest, you will still be in time to warn King Lune."
Shasta's heart fainted at these words for he felt he had no strength left. And he writhed inside at what seemed the cruelty and unfairness of the demand. He had not yet learned that if you do one good deed your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder and better one. But all he said out loud was:
"Where is the King?"

~C. S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy

lessons from the Magadalen

2010-08-22T18:06:00.000-05:00

Crucifixion - Bernardo Daddi

vatican museum - Crucifixion triptych

i took this photo, rather in a rush, and cannot find a better image anywhere. these others i found were the closest thing to capturing the same emotion of Mary Magdalen's face torn with grief. there is no simpering piety here, simply the unbelievable pain of watching her Beloved suffer unthinkable tortures and then die.
this is what holiness is, and there can be no delusions about this if we are to attain that for which we strive. "he who loves much, is forgiven much." if somehow we--if I--can remember that this is what love is, if we can embrace this manifestation of love, then all these trials that can seem so overwhelming will be so easy, or at least bearable, and . . . and what? and i am going to stop because all of the phrases that come to mind are so painfully cheesy and platitudinous.
Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us.

Niccolò di Buonaccorso
(image courtesy of Christie's)

no bend in the road

2010-08-04T12:08:00.000-05:00

life never really "gets easier," does it? there is no mythical point or event that magics things to be hunkey-dory or smooth sailing. i have been thinking very much lately about anne shirley's "bend in the road." we have watched others, one by one in swift progression, follow the bend in their roads, leading away from here and away from us. what looked like a bend in our road has turned into, perhaps, a zig-zag; we are here for the duration. so, to glean another quote from anne's stories, it is time to "gird up our loins and hoe in," as we prepare . . . to stay. who would have thought that homeostasis could be so wearing? is this not what we are made for? but contentment must be in the here and now, or it will never be, at all.
that's all i have to say, for now. my mind is sort of numb, and i am trying very hard to take one day, one moment, at a time. Godspeed to all of our dear friends!

on motherhood

2010-07-21T14:18:00.000-05:00

i recently heard of a mother who sits in front of a television all day with her son. in addition to being sad, to me this just sounds incredibly boring. the delight in being a mother is in playing with my son, in watching him explore and discover, in laughing with him. sometimes he will make me laugh, and then just laugh at me laughing at him. it is so delightful.
while in michigan, someone made the comment that my son is remarkably adept at entertaining himself--not with a screen or with loud electronic toys, but being content in exploring and interacting with the world around him. i could not have received a higher compliment. it is so, so important to me that my child(ren) be able to create things and be part of the physical, material world, that they not be dependent on technology or attention-seeking, imagination-stifling gadgets. i hope and pray that i can raise my son and any subsequent children to find God through the natural world, to develop themselves to entertain through music, art, intellectual discovery, and the joy of nature. to me, this is being a parent: not just occupying my baby to get through the day, but to give of myself in order that he may be the most human person that he can be.
more here . . .

dancing in the dark

2010-07-01T20:45:00.000-05:00

still using someone else's artwork as blog background . . . ah, c'est la vie. but, as i have been posting everywhere, i have started pointe again--sans baby belly this time--and i love it so very, very much.
the baby is awake, again, because his sleep schedule has gotten all wonky, and i finally figured out how to rescue LB from the black muddiness of too many backgrounds etc. i do not think anyone is still out there, but, as others note, sometimes it is necessary to write. and why write publicly? because i . . . i am lonely, for one thing. and there is always the chance that, by "publishing," someone will see, understand--maybe, maybe even be helped by my ramblings. everyone is moving away; i have not spoken to my dear dear friend since her wedding (less than a month ago, but it feels like ages); my dearest sister is gone gone gone. i still have many good people here, but it is so much easier for me to write than to talk, still.
it is so hard, so very hard, to understand God's workings. it seemed so right and fitting and timely that we would be leaving this autumn, but we have found nothing. i feel, once again, left behind, trapped, forgotten, passed over. of course God is not doing that, but those feelings are still there.
in the meantime, hubs and i are going to watch some more Flight of the Conchords. in absence of any sort of sense in reality, i find it helpful to escape into further nonsense.
. . .

Belated Update

2010-05-27T17:48:00.000-05:00

Rather belated, although not much news to report. Daily life includes, lately:

Finn is growing, growing, growing. although still not quite crawling, he gets closer to it, daily. he is very strong, and very fun, and the delight of my heart. he now sports two bottom teeth and is adept at spinning 'round on his belly. he also delights in "moo baa la"--our version of this delightful story. all farm-animal noises are likely to produce a lull in squally weather and extra cheer in sunny weather.
Soon and very soon i shall be high-tailing it off to south dakota, where i shall be for almost two blessed weeks before my dear friend's wedding: oh frabjous day!
my sister has gone, precipitating the mass exodus that shall occur this summer. such is the peril of an academic-based social circle. however, my sister shall be here this autumn (credit: UD website) while i piffle away.
The Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries are on YouTube! this is a glorious thing for all sayers fans. the one disappointment is that Ian Carmichael, while excellent at piffle himself, is not exactly DLS's sleek, lithe detective--a bit middling around the waist, one might say.
i have belatedly been introduced to Foyle. i am delighted to make his acquaintance.

that's all for now. i shall post some new photos of my darling son when i get around to it.
cheer-frightfully-ho, for now . . .

consumer world

2010-04-30T17:04:00.000-05:00

shopping is my soul-barometer. if all is well, or at least if my attitude towards the world is right, then i am content to let things look lovely in the store. if i have stress, anger, anxiety, insecurity, then the wallet falls wide open and things sort of leap into the shopping cart. i fell in love, almost literally, with these pajamas from hanna andersson. alas, when they went on sale, they sold out in a couple of hours or so. i finally tracked some down, right here in dallas! and put the last pair on hold. i went to the mall today to pick them up. i do love them. i am glad i have them. but as far as the rest of the stores . . . malls can be horrible places. they can feel so trapping and smothering and awful. while it is a good sign that consumerism's siren call was failing today, i look back over the past couple of weeks and hang my head at my spend-thriftiness. BUT i found this great song and i think it might keep me going, at least for a little while . . .

a prophecy fulfilled

2010-03-24T12:30:00.000-05:00

   I want to imagine with what new features despotism could be produced in the world: I see an innumerable crowd of like and equal men who revolve on themselves without repose, procuring the small and vulgar pleasures with which they fill their souls. Each of them, withdrawn and apart, is like a stranger to the destiny of all the others: his children and his particular friends form the whole human species for him; as for dwelling with his fellow citizens, he is beside them, but he does not see them; he touches them and does not feel them; he exists only for himself and for himself alone, and if a family still remains for him, one can at least say that he no longer has a native country.
   Above these an immense tutelary power is elevated, which alone takes charge of assuring their enjoyments and watching over their fate. It is absolute, detailed, regular, far-seeing, and mild. It would resemble paternal power if, like that, it had for its object to prepare men for manhood; but on the contrary, it seeks only to keep them fixed irrevocably in childhood; it likes citizens to enjoy themselves provided that they think only of enjoying themselves. It willingly works for their happiness but it wants to be the unique agent and sole arbiter of that; it provides for their security, foresees and secures their needs, facilitates their pleasures, conducts their principal affairs, directs their industry, regulates their estates, divides their inheritances; can it not take away from them entirely the trouble of thinking and the pain of living?
   So it is that every day it renders the employment of free will less useful and more rare; it confines the action of the will in a smaller space and little by little steals the very use of free will from each citizen. Equality has prepared men for all these things: it has disposed them to tolerate them and often even to regard them as a benefit.
   Thus, after taking each individual by turns in its powerful hands and kneading him as it likes, the sovereign extends its arms over society as a whole; it covers its surface with a network of small, complicated, painstaking, uniform rules through which the most original minds and the most vigorous souls cannot clear a way to surpass the crowd; it does not break wills, but it softens them, bends them, and directs them; it rarely forces one to act, but it constantly opposes itself to one's acting; it does not destroy it, it prevents things from being born; it does not tyrannize, it hinders, compromises enervates, extinguishes, dazes, and finally reduces each nation to being nothing more than a herd of timid and industrious animals of which the government is the shepherd.

-Alexis de Tocqueville
Democaracy in America: "What Kind of Despotism Democratic Nations Have to Fear," vol. II, part iv, chp. vi

lenten music

2010-03-03T10:25:00.001-06:00

a friend sent this to me; i think it is fantastic.

Ash Wednesday

2010-02-17T11:02:00.000-06:00

Let us pray. Bow down your heads before God.
Look down, O Lord, in Thy mercy, upon those who bow before Thy majesty; that they who are refreshed by Thy divine gift may ever be sustained by heavenly aid. Through Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Nico Neri

2010-02-13T09:53:00.001-06:00

5 February 2010

requiescat in pace

To What Serves Mortal Beauty?

2010-02-04T16:06:00.000-06:00

my darling thinks i have an over-attachment to beautiful things. he is right, of course, and so read me this:

To what serves moral beauty '-dangerous; does set dancing blood - the O-seal-that-so ' feature, flung prouder form
Than Purcell tune lets tread to? 'See: it does this: keeps warm
Men's wits to the things that are; 'what good means-where a glance
Master more may than gaze 'gaze out of countenance.
Those lovely lads once, wet-fresh 'windfalls of war's storm,
How then should Gregory, a father, 'have gleaned else from swarm-
ed Rome? But God a nation 'dealt that day's dear chance.
To man, that needs would worship 'block or barren stone,
Our law says: Love what are 'love's worthiest, were all known;
What do then? how meet beauty? 'Merely meet it; own
Home at heart, heaven's sweet gift; 'then leave, let that alone.
Yea, wish that though, wish all, 'God's better beauty, grace.

better than any sermonizing in the world, Hopkins.

doldrums

2010-02-01T15:49:00.000-06:00

midwinter blues are kicking in . . . baby is teething; home is beautiful but oh-so-small; most of family and so many friends are so very far away; next year is so tenuous and uncertain; i want so very badly to chop off all of my hair. the waiting game can be so very draining.

of course there are so many good things, too. sometimes it is just hard to gain and keep the right perspective on everything. so i'll sing this little song . . .

the yearly journey

2010-01-20T10:33:00.000-06:00

it has begun. every year for the last 15 years or so i have reread lord of the rings. my copy is 20 years old this year, and looks every day of it. it is like comfort food to me; i never get tired of it. tolkien truly is a master. this year i am looking at it more from the angle of "telling a story" than i have since i first heard it, i think.

i love tolkien's illustrations. he was not a great artist, but he was a good one, and his drawings perfectly reflect the tone of the story. someday i will have the edition with his illustrated covers. someday . . .

Finn

2010-01-12T16:55:00.001-06:00

i have probably sent this photo to half of my readers, but i am so excited about it. he is so very happy and stompy here. i love how he is grabbing his little romper (present from dr. kenney, and so cute. hanna anderson is the best.) you can see my strip'ed arm balancing him, but he's pretty darn good at standing on his own.

i love him.

2010?

2010-01-03T19:17:00.000-06:00

i am unsure as to how this happened, but clearly it did . . . not just a new year, but a new decade. why does y2k not seem ten whole years ago?

in the traditional calendar, today is the feast of the Holy Name of Jesus. the franciscans introduced it, and Innocent XIII spread it to the whole church in 1700-something. happy feast day!

also, a new post here.

. . . If Only in My Dreams

2009-12-25T19:24:00.000-06:00

and it is Christmas. i am taking a moment to hide from the mayhem and finding asylum from the television screen in my computer screen. hm.

we are so very blessed, and it is so wonderful to have family. Finn got some very beautiful wooden toys and a jumpy--very excited about that! i think it will enable me to "get things done," all the very mundane things that must be done with or without a baby.

i am keenly feeling the lack of Christmas traditions this year. i keep telling myself i will establish more traditions when the kid, or kids, are older, but i realized this year that i need them for myself, too. after all, i want to teach the liturgical year to my children because it is of worth in itself, and in order for them to understand that, they need to see it in me, too. (yes, i am already pluralizing. i strongly doubt Finn will be an only child, somehow.)

haunting this Christmas, though, is the terrible longing for the snapping cold, for my own family and our traditions.

sometimes the little bird sings a bittersweet song.

monday

2009-11-16T18:10:00.001-06:00

not bad for a monday! we went to the chiropractor; finn is doing really well, and then took a nice long nap so i got all my hours in. i also swept the whole house, did all the laundry (with a little help from dear husband), visited ruth, called a couple of friends, read some flannery o'connor, and now even posted. AND i found i can fit in to two more pairs of trousers! what a way to start the week! best of all, this morning began with smiles from my baby. sorry no photos of the smile yet; i'll need daddy to get those at some point.

please keep us in your prayers as we begin to hear about jobs for next autumn . . .

Edmund Neil Thurow

2009-11-15T18:28:00.000-06:00

11 November

8 lbs 6.7 oz

Requiescat in pace

"Our boys were supposed to play together."

an old favourite

2009-11-04T18:10:00.001-06:00

from a movie first seen with an very longtime and good friend.

one day at a time

2009-10-28T20:19:00.000-05:00

i was terrified to go to Mass yesterday, 'cause Finn had fallen asleep early and i knew if he woke up during Mass he would scream . . . i went anyway. the priest's homily was on the mustard seed and the yeast, which was the Gospel. he was talking about how the Kingdom of God requires us to grow, which requires suffering. I looked at my sweet sleeping Finn, and remembered that Christ said that HIs Kingdom is found in children such as these . . . so taking it one day, sometimes one moment at a time, trying to keep in mind that all of these frustrations are suffering in order to grow for the Kingdom, in me and in Finn, and for the whole Church.

life and photos

2009-10-27T20:24:00.000-05:00

i have updated the flikr site with a few baptism photos and a couple of random ones. he has sort of started to smile; every once in a great while i get one. he was smiling at katy and i when we were changing him the other day; i tried to get a picture of it but just ended up with this:

he's been having a little bout with eczema; i'm taking him in to a super alternative doctor as soon as the blasted insurance company finally adds him. he's still sleeping well at night, thank the good Lord and please God it will continue; days have been a bit rougher but he is a sweet baby. i am glad that he cuddles.

i sort of finished the afghan, but as soon as i get up the nerve i am going to rip out the last couple dozen rows and redo it, 'cause it's something of a mess. i am returning to dance as soon as i can figure out the best way to do so, as all my classes are right over his fussy time. ryan is leaving this weekend for a conference at Ol' Miss', which is a very good thing, and i puddle with gratitude that God saw fit to syncopate finn's arrival with katy's, who will be staying with me this weekend whilst husband is gone.

being a mother is sort of overwhelming, in every possible way . . .

Finn photos

2009-10-22T20:37:00.000-05:00

i do not know why flikr was being difficult, so hopefully this will circumnavigate the problem:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/gipsyjaime/

and i will try to make time to upload more soon.

cheers!

nifty things

2009-10-12T09:49:00.000-05:00

my sister-in-law told me about a t-shirt she saw at a maternity shop, boasting "i'm so crafty, i make people." i am not particularly crafty, but i do enjoy it when i have sufficient time to indulge creativity. sara also introduced me to this nifty site. i am excited to explore it. as soon as i finish the eternal afghan, which hopefully will not be too much longer, i hope to embark on a knitted hat for Finn.

speaking of which, i am working on uploading photos to my Flickr account. if you are interested in seeing what is already up there (including honeymoon photos from ireland), you can go here and then look for gipsyjaime. we started putting him in little man clothes, and he looks . . . like a little man. how is my baby already growing so quickly?!

lullabies

2009-10-01T15:24:00.000-05:00

so far, this is Finn's favourite for me to sing. it almost invariably quiets him (although, how much invariability is there after two scant weeks?).

Finian Robert

2009-09-24T18:50:00.000-05:00

has, at long last, joined the world on friday, 18 september 2009. he weighed in at 7'11"--a lot bigger than anyone thought, since i was measuring small the entire time. he was born on the bathroom floor, because he came so fast that i couldn't make it from the tub to the bed. in fact, the midwife couldn't even tell what he was. she wrapped him in a towel, laid him on my belly and said, "unwrap your own present." and lo, there was Finn.

my husband is the awesomest one ever, and nothing would have gone nearly so smoothly without him. i am posting this photo at his request:

nostalgia

2009-09-05T15:14:00.000-05:00

no, no news yet. how do i feel? how you think . . . hangin' in there, one day and one night at a time, waiting for this baby to feel like being born.
oh, virginia, i have been dreaming of you, of driving down Happy Creek, of the mountains, the valley, the river, the stores, the roads, the country, ponies; yearning for Royal Oak Books and Main Street and Skyline Drive and the Griffin . . . and, most of all, of course, old friends. cheers to you. miss you all, *lots*.

such goodness

2009-07-27T16:52:00.000-05:00

gillian welch with old crow medicine show, covering one of my old favorites.

who says americans are overweight?

2009-07-22T11:39:00.001-05:00

if this is so, why are there never any smalls left???

and, regarding the works in progress:

we're fixing the air conditioner. it has cooled off this week from the low 100s to the low 90s, so it is a good time to do so. the "lacy baby afghan" is coming along (from ruth: did you hear TSA confiscated this old lady's knitting needles? they were afraid she would knit an afgan.). i think i have repeated 16 times now--only 44 left to go! i am doing the fifth revision of my thesis, so hopefully i can hand it in and my panel will sign that magic dotted line that means i am a free woman with an MA. my pointe shoes are not fitting on my feet so well these days. i showed up to the intermediate class this week (for quite some time now i've been lazy in beginners), the week that three dancers from the dallas ballet company decided to come. they had their knees to their heads; i was hoping i wouldn't fall over on the ponche. ah, c'est la vie; so good for humility!

and, of course, the main work in progress:

33 weeks and counting. oh yes, i am counting, and beginning to pray with desperation that this little one is early. i was reading that at this point, "your baby will be sleeping 90-95% of the time." not our baby!!!

over and out, 'til next time . . .

Works in Progress

2009-07-08T19:45:00.001-05:00

Row 1: YO, SK1, K1, Sk2T, YO, P2

Row 2: K2, P5, repeat

Row 3: K1, YO, BO2, YO, K1, P2

Row 4: Repeat Row 2

Repeat 60 times

i have repeated 11 times so far. as you can see,

it's far from perfect--but i am enjoying it, nonetheless.

this should be the final draft of Thesis.

our air conditioner decided to be troublesome.
hopefully we can fix it instead of replace it.

birthing classes conflict with pointe class,
but i still practice at home.

preparations

2009-07-02T20:46:00.000-05:00

"Childbirth is the perfection of womanhood, and the beautifying of the maternal conscience is one of its most acceptable rewards, not only for the mother herself, but for her home, the community, and the nation . . . those who have known all and suffered little are not slow to sympathize with mere man in that he can never know the joy that is the reward of natural reproduction."

Childbirth without Fear

Grantly Dick-Read

en pointe

2009-06-26T16:00:00.000-05:00

some blues are just blues . . .

2009-06-15T15:26:00.001-05:00

second round of thesis revisions . . . can even chopin and ice cream be of any assistance? it is not looking promising.

little update

2009-06-02T11:30:00.000-05:00

of course, as usual, everything has been crazy. i spent a week home with my family--first time to see them since Christmas!--for my sister's graduation . . . the first of the "little girls," none of whom are so very little anymore. i forgot the camera, but michigan in spring is beautiful and pleasant, and late may is still spring in the north country.
i flew home for a whirlwind anniversary: hoorah for one year! and then my darling turned around and left the next day to work in florida, grading AP government exams in orlando for a week. artemis and i both miss him something fierce.
still finishing up thesis; in fact, i shall cut short this post to work on revisions, but should be set to graduate in august.
i leave you with baby gorman. this is about a month old now; i am just a week or so away from starting month seven. but, "still good!" (yes: names, first and last, and age are all wrong. sigh)

Happy Ascension Day!

2009-05-21T16:06:00.000-05:00

i like to celebrate my feast days on the feast day. i love the liturgical season--it is one of the things i missed most in my protestant days.

i also love this painting. hurrah for art! hurrah for sacraments! hurrah for being Catholic!

i am desperately attempting to finish the final stages of my rough draft: just the intro. and conclusion. i should be set to graduate in august (finally), assuming they accept my request to postpone jury duty. now is not the best time.

also, multitudinous hurrahs for all the up and coming babies!!!

most blessed day to all.

the court jester

2009-04-30T18:38:00.000-05:00

when obama was elected, ryan and i consoled ourselves with the prospect of laughing at joe biden for the next four years. unfortunately, the new president caught on fairly quickly that his VP was the comic relief for "the other side," and wasted no time in shutting him up. so, we were delighted to read this commentary from WSJ's james taranto:

He's Such a Panic
"Vice President Joe Biden said Thursday that he would not recommend taking any commercial flight or riding in a subway car 'at this point' because swine flu virus can spread 'in confined places,' " Politico reports:

"I would tell members of my family--and I have--I wouldn't go anywhere in confined places now," Biden said on NBC's "Today" show. "It's not that it's going to Mexico. It's [that] you're in a confined aircraft. When one person sneezes, it goes all the way through the aircraft. That's me. . . .

"So, from my perspective, what it relates to is mitigation. If you're out in the middle of a field when someone sneezes, that's one thing. If you're in a closed aircraft or closed container or closed car or closed classroom, it's a different thing."

So, to sum up: Avoid all forms of public and commercial transportation. If you need to travel, go by car--alone. Avoid other people at all times while indoors. If you must be in the presence of other human beings, make sure it is in a vast open field.

The White House was forced to issue a statement explaining that Biden really meant to say something completely different, and altogether reasonable:

"On the Today Show this morning, the vice president was asked what he would tell a family member who was considering air travel to Mexico this week. The advice he is giving family members is the same advice the administration is giving to all Americans: that they should avoid unnecessary air travel to and from Mexico. If they are sick, they should avoid airplanes and other confined public spaces, such as subways. This is the advice the vice president has given family members who are traveling by commercial airline this week. As the president said just last night, every American should take the same steps you would take to prevent any other flu: Keep your hands washed; cover your mouth when you cough; stay home from work if you're sick and keep your children home from school if they're sick."

That should probably read "keep your hands clean" or "wash your hands often"; "keep your hands washed" doesn't quite make sense.

Under normal circumstances, for the vice president of the United States to say what Biden said would have risked setting off a panic. Fortunately, everyone discounts for the fact that the vice president is Joe Biden.

Unfortunately, if President Obama were unable to perform the duties of his office, the vice president would become president--and the vice president is Joe Biden. That's no reason to panic, only to be afraid.

Maundy Thursday

2009-04-09T09:15:00.000-05:00

Introit But it behooves us to glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ: in whom is our salvation, life and resurrection: by whom we are saved and delivered. May God have mercy on us, and bless us: may He cause His countenance to shine upon us; and may He have mercy on us.

Collect Christ became obedient for us unto death, even to the death of the cross. For which cause God also hath exalted Him and hath given Him a name which is above all names.

Offertory The right hand of the Lord hath wrought strength: the right hand of the Lord hath exalted me. I shall not die, but live: and shall declare the works of the Lord.

After the Mass is sung the Pange Lingua, from which the "Tantum Ergo" is taken; following which the altars are stripped to the recitation of Psalm 21, "Deus, Deus meus": My God, my God, look upon me: why has thou forsaken me? The voice of mine offenses keepeth Thy deliverance far from me.

i wish i could reprint the whole Maundy Thursday liturgy, but i shall spare you. i love how long the old liturgy is--even with my ADD. paying attention for anyone is hard--an extremely difficult skill to acquire, because it demands that we give of ourselves: our interior lives. it requires that we truly leave behind every distraction, every preoccupation, and give our thoughts to God, in addition to our time. every celebration in the "new order" has been sometimes drastically truncated, and it seems to me that we miss not just the richness of the form and content, but also the chance to sacrifice in a way that is not often required of us, especially now.

please don't mistake me: we are attending most of the Triduum in the novus ordo. tonight's liturgy will be very beautiful and very reverent and very valid, and i expect that it will be very powerful, as well. but it will not be quite the same.

a few of my favourite things

2009-04-07T20:31:00.000-05:00

as long promised . . .

"red, red, vermillion red" / key chain rack, from anthro

red & turquoise: mmmmm / the china hutch

the cyclamen! / 2-in-1: best beloved & ireland

April

2009-04-02T15:44:00.000-05:00

did i really only post once in march? i meant to post more . . . april means that holy week and Easter are peeking around the corner--it is already Passion-tide. it also means that the insanity that has been my life for the past semester is drawing to an end.

already i only have five more weeks left of teaching -- oh frabjous day! callooh! callay! and i am working on the rough draft of chapter three of thesis: that means just intro and conclusion, and of course revision, and then i'll finally actually have my stinking degree! after three years! my former prof pretty much hated chapter two, but current thesis director said it's in "pretty good shape". i think i'll stick with the latter opinion.

darling husband is gone until late tomorrow night, presenting a paper at the midwest political science association in chicago. it

sounds impressive, but it's also the sort of thing that is having a gay/ lesbian/ bisexual caucus tonight. i'm glad i'm not there -- hubs probably is, too, 'cause i get "realmad" at that sort of thing. but i have the best neighbors ever, so i've been pretty well taken care of today and will continue to be -- thanks, allison & ruthie!

ryan has his computer, too, so i can't download any photos of "my favourite things" or of my baby bump. yes, there is a quite distinct bump at 17 weeks, simply because there is no where else for Bean to go, on account of my severe short-waistedness.

in the meantime, since i think posts sans photos are boring, here are a brace of ballet photos that i found today that i think are nifty.

i know it's passe to talk about the weather, but i am going to because it's been so delightful: 60s and 70s, stormy, windy, and most of all, cool! i am NOT looking forward to the hot hot weather and am so grateful that it is taking its time in coming.

also, i must mention my little cyclamen plant. it has been at the grocery store for the past month. no one wanted it because it was not as bloomy as all the rest--oh, the mistake all those people made! for there are myriad of little tiny bloomlings down at the bottom that are rapidly rising to the top with some normal water and good ol' sunshine . . . because my darlingest husband, who has very little understanding for my love of plants and flowers, bought it for me! i will post a photo of it whenever i get around to "my favourite things".

in the meantime, i have a large stack of essays and midterms that i still have not graded, and chapter three is calling out to me . . .

St. Patrick's Day (and then some)

2009-03-17T09:30:00.000-05:00

i have discovered that the trouble with efficiency is that it takes quite a lot of energy: hence, no post of My Favourite Things, which i have been planning in my head for several days. what i have actually been doing is plugging away at chapter two. wordsworth and coleridge somewhat intimidate me, even now: they have such large minds! but perhaps st. patrick will give me a blessing for it today.

on our honeymoon, we spent a morning wandering around derrynane house, in caherdaniel, co. kerry, home of the "Irish Liberator," daniel o'connell, who won freedom for irish catholics in the early 1800s. the house itself wasn't open when we arrived, so we wandered around derrynane beach and explored st. finian's abbey--a ruin of a thing that is now used as a graveyard. daniel o'connell had a replica of the ruined abbey church built at his house, and two popes attached all kinds of indulgences to it. of course, it is no longer used, now that it is in state control . . . so sad! the rest of the grounds are hugely extenseive, with all sorts of exotic gardens, a ruin of an ancient cashel, and what appeared to be the ruin of a look-out tower--but who knows. maybe it was just an old storage building. but here is a speech of daniel o'connell's. i maintain that, in a way, it is relevant now, for us. overall, he seems to have been a wise, holy, good man: a worthy inheritor of st. patrick's mission.

a bump & a beat

2009-02-24T14:39:00.000-06:00

clothes have been tight for a little while now; sunday i put on loungy clothes and then noticed: i have a bump! still just a little one, but noticeable (if i'm wearing the right sort of clothes). and i began to hope that there really is a wee one.

today, though, we heard the heartbeat (and lots of kicks) and that is something incomparable. and it is such a sense of desolation to think of all the little hearts no longer beating. i cannot help think of them. and be so thankful for our child, and my husband, and God is so good.

must finish thesis by 6 . . .

procrastination

2009-02-21T15:44:00.000-06:00

. . . again . . . this week has most emphatically not been productive, instead resulting in my own series of unfortunate events, involving, in part, naughty artemis, a full mug of tea, and my computer, lappy (yes, i stole that directly from strongbad). all things considered, it could have been much, much worse. but, chapter one is due on tuesday and i still have only a very measly seven pages written.

tuesday is also the day we are (finally!!!!) supposed to be able to hear the heartbeat. here's to hoping that the hearts of both of my big projects are beating properly. drink one for me; i'll join you in six more months. ;)

Keeping the Sabbath

2009-02-16T12:08:00.000-06:00

last week i made the resolution to work like crazy all week, with the idea that i would do nothing on sunday. i got a surprising amount accomplished. sunday morning we got up for high Mass at the carmel (despite my current umbrage with the traditionalists), which was lovely, and then enjoyed a laid-back brunch at home. i decided i would read a little bit (Lord of the Rings, for the 87th time) and then drifted off for a two hour nap. this is, for me, truly a sign of blessing. i rarely am able to nap, even now, but the knowledge of having done everything i needed to prepare for this week took all the pressure off. it was a lovely, leisurely day, and i think i'm going to try to keep this up. as long as felix doesn't keep keeping me up, that is . . .

productivity

2009-02-14T16:35:00.000-06:00

heheh . . . in more ways than one . . . seriously, though, i have finally, i think, managed some sort of schedule. i've gotten all my hours in for one job, started seriously working on chp. 1 of Thesis, swept the floor almost every day, and i even dusted today! hooray for dusting! and all on a regularly interrupted sleep, because felix has decided he must yeowl every night and keep us up for several hours. we have resorted to the spray bottle, but even that is having only minimal effect. stupid cat. so, before i tackle my students' essays, which i need to return to them on monday, i thought i would be REALLY efficient and update my blog! yay! there is still plenty i haven't gotten done, and i've definitely wasted plenty of time, but at least i'm getting better. things cannot all come together just in one week, and i'm trying to cut myself a little more slack these days, both in my trousers and my schedule. so, without further ado, have a wonderful life 'til the next time, and may you find joy in preparing for Lent.

Footnote: Artemis just tore through a hole in the screen and jumped out on the carport (we're on the 2nd floor). i talked to her while ryan went outside to try to get her, but that was sort of awkward so i bent the screen and called her. luckily she came right to me; i think she was a little nervous, even though she was so very curious. i got her in and slammed the window shut; she went right back to it to try to get out again. i didn't think of taking photos until she was safe.

"the idiossey"

2009-02-01T16:56:00.000-06:00

ryan found this great article via our friend "P-Chris" (philosophy professor chris). it isn't too long, and definitely worth reading.

happy february, and a happy (early) groundhog day!

just another day

2009-01-28T16:19:00.000-06:00

we just got a hardwood floor vacuum cleaner and washer. i hid out in the bedroom to escape fumes whilst ryan cleaned, when suddenly thunk and yowl, like a cat being skinned, assualted my blissful puttering. i opened the door, and artemis was clinging to the bedroom door frame, above my head. i guess she didn't like the vacuum cleaner, poor minx. luckily, she and the doorframe are okay.

back to aristotle. i'm all ready to start actually writing thesis, and i have to go finish aristotle. . . . the demands of responsible scholarship . . .

song in my heart

2009-01-23T22:47:00.000-06:00

it is good to know, even with barack two-face obama now in office, that beauty is not completely ignored, that it can still touch people's souls. my dearest husband took me to hear dvorak's New World Symphony. it has been one of my favorite pieces of music since high school band, dumbed down and badly played as it was. my first sememster in college, when i ended up on the "whore floor" at the state school and all the girls were blasting their booty music, i picked up a copy of this piece and blasted the 4th movement. several girls stopped by my room to ask, not turn it down, but, "what is that? it's awesome!" that, my friend, is real.

hearing this piece performed live (and professionally) has been a little dream; it's so delightful and refreshing to have those little dreams fulfilled. and it's so delightful to hear live music! nothing can replace the humanity of that experience: the stiff-shirt symphony master and the pompous, made-up assistant; the last-chair cellist, a little man in his 50s, perhaps even early 60s, who has a sort of anxious look that he's not sure he's really quite good enough even to be last chair, but he's going to play his heart out; the whisper of strings on bows; the anxiety, delight, and intense concentration on the look of the musicians. even the slight mis-timings are thrilling, because it indicates the flawed humanity, reaching with its whole being, for something so glorious. the whole piece was just as incredible as i had hoped and desired it to be, and when those intense, suspenseful notes of the 4th movement began, shivers went up my spine and something pricked at the back of my eyes. it was superb.

what have we done to ourselves that we replace this magnificent experience, of appreciating the talent of long-dead composer, real live musicians, and the striving of the human soul with these segments of made-up reality? no video game, no movie, no television show, no internet gimmick, can replace this interplay of audience and artist, beholder and creation. let us rejoice in the good things God has given us!

and if you've never heard this piece, take 15 minutes, tops, of your day. turn out the lights, close your eyes, and listen to the 4th movement of dvorak's 9th symphony.

Christmas in the north country

2009-01-04T18:51:00.000-06:00

Christmas cookie decorating, a family tradition

(burlesque snowwoman courtesy of my mum)

every year, tree decorating is accompanied by eggnog.

this year, the eggnog was homemade and so tasty, and

the decorating was also accompanied by a very excited boy

in super mario galaxy pajamas.

the stockings i made for us:

it was a very long process,

but they turned out alright.

my sweet husband and my sweet horse:

the perfect combination

the trouble maker standing

in the snow, which i was so excited to see!

(both snow and trouble maker)

(c) ruth and j'aime

2008-12-17T10:35:00.000-06:00

"Why should I buy expensive art when I can make my own."

all the earth

2008-12-14T07:39:00.000-06:00

Maria walks amid the thorn

Kyrie eleison

Which seven years no leaf has born

She walks amid the wood of thorn

Jesus and Maria

What 'neath her heart does Mary bear?

Kyrie eleison

A little child does Mary bear

Beneath her heart He nestles there

Jesus and Maria

And as the two are passing near

Kyrie eleison

Lo! roses on the thorns appear

Jesus and Maria

Gaudete!

2008-12-13T18:05:00.000-06:00

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your modesty be known to all men, for the Lord is nigh. Be nothing solicitous, but in everything by prayer let your petitions be made known to God. Thou has blessed Thy land, O Lord: Thou hast turned away the captivity of Jacob (Introit). Incline Thine ear to our prayers we beseech Thee, O Lord, and enlighten the darkness of our minds by the grace of Thy visitation (Collect).

I remember in high school having a special fondness for Psalm 37: the oft-quoted "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." oh, good, thought I, if I am holy, then God will give me what I want. it was my mum, with that parental wisdom that is so maddening to 19, who pointed out that delighting oneself in the Lord means being fully content with God, and that if you delight yourself in Him, then you will have everything you want, because He desires to come to us. but i want what I want!

beyond just hard, it is terrifying to let go of desire and want only God. somehow, there is the lurking fear that He will not prove to be enough, after all. it takes so much trust, and so much discipline, to relinquish all other desires and want Him alone. and yet, of course: peace, when we finally do stop pursuing emptiness and begin desiring only God, when we are finally free from the mad, burning lust that drives us to things of this world and rest at last beside the tranquil waters; springs that are, indeed, restful, but deep and powerful enough to quell the most obstinate will. the quest to desire God alone is the never-ending battle; our refuge is in the prayer that Mary prayed at the Annunciation, that Christ prayed in Gethsemane, the prayer that brought our salvation: non mea voluntas, sed Tua fiat. Not my will, oh God, but Thine be done.

Finis--for now

2008-12-10T12:35:00.000-06:00

i have successfully (i hope) completed my first semester of teaching. it has been long, difficult, and humbling, and i don't know how "rewarding" overall it was, but i thoroughly enjoyed it. i fully expect that after this much needed respite, i will be able to gird my loins and leap into the thick of it again at the end of january. it is always good for ideals to meet reality and thus be duly tempered. i confess i was discouraged when, for the final, three of my students wrote how homosexual adoption is a-okay because all that matters is that people love each other. i would be interested to know how they define "love", if they are able to define it at all beyond feelings. one of them really surprised me--a baptist girl who said that it was "rubish" [sic] that a homosexual couple cannot be "saved" Christians. reading her conception of Christianity, though, i was enlightened. again, it's all reduced to feelings. i prefer a religion based on something a little more substantial. ah, c'est la vie. not much more news: waiting, waiting, waiting, and very excited to be seeing my family in michigan over Christmas, for the first time in almost eight months! and also, thesis is coming along nicely.

That's all, folks!

Enchanted Rock: It's Enchanting!

2008-11-29T08:43:00.000-06:00

After a wonderful Thanksgiving with the in-laws, Friday found us--my husband, brother-in-law, and nephew and I--driving out Fredericksburg way for a visit to Enchanted Rock. It's one of the world's largest rocks, the largest being in Australia. It was incredible, and so lovely to be out and about. It has lots of rock climbing routes, although I was not able to go on any. I was not even up for bouldering--a lot harder than rock walls at the climbing gym! Clearly it has been far too long since I did some real climbing.

We forgot the camera, so I don't have any photos unless I can figure out how to download them from Ryan's phone. In the meantime, enjoy the rest of the weekend!

(my apologies for the lame title. it's too lame to resist.)

bliss

2008-11-19T13:49:00.000-06:00

now that the weather is gloriously cool, i have been relishing in one of my favorite things: hot water. hot showers, hot soaks in the tub, hot tea--hot water in just about all its forms is one of my delights. tolkien best expresses it in words:

Sing hey! for the bath at the close of day

That washes the weary mud away!

A loon is he that will not sing:

O! Water Hot is a noble thing!

O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,

and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;

but better than rain or rippling streams

is Water Hot that smokes and steams.

O! Water cold we may pour at need

down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;

but better is Beer, if drink we lack,

and Water Hot poured down the back.

O! Water is fair that leaps on high

in a fountain white beneath the sky;

but never did fountain sound so sweet

as splashing Hot Water with my feet!

and is the cast iron tea kettle that ryan gave me for my birthday: also a wonderful tribute to hot water.

Song of the South

2008-11-15T09:24:00.001-06:00

this weekend finds us in lubbock, TX, at the UD undergraduates' moot court competition at the Texas Tech law school. on the drive out, we saw lots of this: (see vintage post card at right). okay, except there were huge unwieldy machines instead of human people out there harvesting the cotton. we also saw lots of wind turbines, oil fields, and cacti. also, i'll have you know, i successfully maneuvered a 15-passenger around town, including backing it up in a parking lot.

teaching lately has been little short of a nightmare. the caliber of students is not the highest ever, and i am still learning, which is not a fabulous combination. i do like teaching, but it is exhausting and sometimes frustrating. the thesis is going well, though. my new director is, in her words, "cracking the whip over me," which is exactly what i need. i am currently plowing through utilitarians, which will lead me to pater, wordsworth, and lovely things, as well as very ugly things masquerading as lovely things. to get to the fun stuff, though, to see the edifice rise in lovely form, i must for now labor at the foundation.

there is no other news for now, EXCEPT that my incredible husband gave me a cast iron tea kettle for my birthday! i will post pictures of it soon. it's red, square, wee, and lovely, and a perfect addition for my Banish Plastic mission. also, dear ruth gave me shopping bags! from this very cool web site. one more step to hippiness, as well! hooray for hippie housekeeping!

if there is even one righteous man . . .

2008-11-05T13:02:00.000-06:00

in all my novenas for the election, i have realized three things about God:

1) He often answers prayer not by granting our request, but by giving us the grace to respond to His will.

2) God cares far more about the lives He creates than we do, and He will not abandon them, even when it looks like He is.

3) As great as pro-life legislation would be, laws do not change hearts, and hearts are what is most important to God. With the threat of extreme pro-abortion legislature, it will force us to focus on what matters most: changing women's hearts to love God and their unborn babies.

From my prayer book, under "Christian Doctrine":

SINS CRYING TO HEAVEN FOR VENGEANCE

Wilful murder--The sin of Sodom--Oppression of the poor--Defrauding laborers of their wages.

God will not forsake His own decrees.

on happiness

2008-10-30T18:43:00.000-05:00

i have been reading Josef Pieper "for my thesis," and the latest one is happiness and contemplation. in this little book, which is in fact a royal treasury, he says,

"The meaning of [St. Thomas's] statement is not solely that God is happy. The intention and the words [of the Summa] are: "He is His happiness." Indeed, "God and happiness are the same." Any human being who is happy shares in a happiness that is not of himself."

whenever we are happy, then, it is because we are participating in God's happiness. conversely, whenever we are unhappy, it is because we are failing to participate in God's happiness for us in the situation in which He has placed us. whether we want it or not, He does, and we must find His will--His happiness--in this place and time, without wasting a moment on our unhappiness.

note on thesis: i have a plan! a new advisor, who is devising a no-nonsense plan that will get me through this, and she likes my topic! can life get any better? right at this very moment, with renewed Thesis vigor, my amazing husband, and even a little chill in the air . . . i submit that it cannot.