Blogroll Housekeeping

We interrupt this blog to bring you a special announcement regarding "housekeeping:"

In an effort to streamline things a little around here, and make it easier for me to follow my favorite blogs, I have done a little pruning on the blogroll.

If you're a B-Teamer, you're automatically on that blogroll which I include in its entirety, so I've taken your blog out of the first blogroll. Please don't be insulted. I'm just trying to keep things looking reasonable here.

And ALL blogs I want to follow, if they have a feed set up, have been subscribed in my Bloglines. This way I won't miss anything.

Other tweaks may follow later.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled reading.

What Kind of Donut am I?

You Are a Boston Creme Donut

You have a tough exterior. No one wants to mess with you. But on the inside, you're a total pushover and completely soft. You're a traditionalist, and you don't change easily. You're likely to eat the same doughnut every morning, and pout if it's sold out.

What Donut Are You?

Boston Creme. ICK. If that's the only kind left, I WILL pout, because that's the last donut I'd choose. My REAL favorite is a crispy cruller, with cinnamon sugar. Best eaten hot.

Via Meanwhile, Back in the Kitchen.

From Today's Homily

Father H. reminded us of a quote by Mother Teresa today: "It is not success that is important, but our faithfulness."

The whole homily today was a good reminder: don't rest on your success, or what you think is your success. You can always strive to do better at what's really important: being faithful to the Will of God--letting God be your Shepherd.

I remembered a phrase my dad used to say when he was fed up with doing something that wouldn't come out exactly right: "Good enough is good enough." That's one thing when you are painting a wall, washing a window or baking a pie. Total perfection is perhaps not very necessary there. But when you are serving God, serving others--does God deserve any less than your best effort?

Very strange

Last week I read on Happy Catholic that "sorrow is an act of the will, not of feeling."

I was chewing on that all week long, it seems.

Last night I had a very odd dream. At the end, I was sitting at a picnic table with a priest who was my pastor until 4 1/2 years ago, when we changed parishes after a series of events that left us angry, confused and heartbroken. And we felt that the pastor was doing nothing about it, and didn't care.

In my dream last night I told this priest, "I'm still angry." And he answered, "I know." And THEN I said, "I wonder if anger is like sorrow--an act of the will?"

After 4 1/2 years, I think it is. We're back at that parish now, with a different pastor, and that has been very healing to us. But there's still some anger there, obviously. Why do I still hang on to that?

Backwards

Little Brother has a problem with getting his clothes on properly. Chances are that when he gets dressed, at least one item of clothing will be on backwards.

When I called everyone to dinner he was still wearing his swimsuit from the afternoon's romp in the Slip Slide. I told him to go get a T-shirt. He returned with a golf shirt and struggled his way into it.

After he sat at the table we all started laughing--the shirt was on backwards, collar up. Not conducive to eating, for sure.

Big Brother observed that Little Brother has a problem with tags, and asked him, "Where does the tag belong?"

Little Brother (correctly) replied, "On the INSIDE!"

Those Soldiers Have Faces

Sometimes, with all the news coverage....all war, all the time...it's easy to get overwhelmed by the news, and just kind of disconnect yourself from the whole thing.

But it occurred to me this morning that if you can do that, you're lucky. Not everyone can.

Marthamartha has a heartbreaking piece about a soldier's wife. She's roughing it at home with 6 kids, and trying to keep her soul and sanity in the process by taping Scripture quotes all over the house.

I have a cyber-buddy in Canada whose husband is in the military. He's been in Afghanistan since last fall and expects to return home in 4 weeks. His wife and 3 children can't wait to have him back among them.

The soldiers you see on the news, mostly with their backs to the camera because they're busy doing what soldiers have to do--those soldiers have faces, and families, and wives, and kids, and parents and siblings and friends. They have jobs and dreams. They--and their loved ones--can't turn their backs on the war. For them, it IS all war, all the time.

Please pray today and every day for the members of our military and their families, who are all sacrificing every day so that our country and our world can be free and safe.

Music to My Ears

Middle Sister spent the afternoon at Best Friend's house, and they talked Daddy into letting them have a sleepover here.

When Middle Sister and Best Friend got here, Best Friend was carrying not only her pillow, toothbrush and pajamas, but her violin as well. Apparently they had been practicing music at Best Friend's house all afternoon. Middle Sister has had two years of group keyboard lessons, and Best Friend is in her first year of violin.

The two girls were very proud of themselves for working out a duet of one of the violin pieces, with violin and keyboard.

And I am just thrilled. I'm so glad that my daughter, who isn't the best in the world at practicing, has discovered how fun it is to make music with friends!

File it under: I Don't Want to Know

Little Brother was playing at my Back-Door Neighbor's house today, with their 2-year-old Cutie Pie.

I had gone home to get some ironing done play on the computer and work on the Jigsaw Puzzle From Hell, and my neighbor called and told me to go to my back window, where I saw:

My 4-year-old son
Wearing his blue camo bathing suit--
Backward, and
Sporting a lime-green bucket hat that practically covered his whole head
And carrying
A miniature broom
And a pair of pink butterfly wings.

Unfortunately my camera doesn't have the kind of zoom lens it would take to get a candid shot of that particular spectacle. It would have been priceless in about 13 years.

Works-For-Me Wednesday: Bandage Removal

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Little kids are famous for their need of bandages for "psychological" purposes, on their all-but-invisible wounds. The problem is getting the bandages back off. Sometimes the sticky part is too sticky, or it leaves that nasty "bandage footprint" around the perimeter.

An easy way to get the adhesive off your child's skin is to use a cotton swab or cotton ball, soaked in baby oil. I tell Little Brother that it will "tickle" the bandage right off. So the spot is clean, it didn't hurt AND it smells good.

Works for me!

Go visit Rocks in My Dryer for a list of more great tips!

And here's my family's favorite tip from last week. My husband commented Just Last Night At Dinner, how much he likes this idea.

The Oatmeal Wars

Big Brother enjoys oatmeal for breakfast. (How he can eat a hot breakfast in this heat is beyond me...and yes, I'm drinking coffee as I type this...)

This morning he made his bowl of instant oatmeal--2 packets--and naturally Little Brother had to have some too. He'd already eaten breakfast but I made him some anyway. And the two brothers sat at the table and scooped up their oatmeal.

I guess being Little Brother has made him competitive, because before I knew it, he was bragging: "My oatmeal is gooooooooood! Is yours? Nooooooo!"

Yes, this is what we've been reduced to around here: trash-talking about breakfast.

Table Manners, or Lack Thereof

Overheard at the dinner table:

"If I can eat with one chopstick, I am officially awesome."

Later:

"OK, a fork is actually 4 chopsticks, so...."

And the ever popular:

"I got pepper juice in my eye!"

Here's the recipe for the dinner that involved said chopsticks:

Hawaiian Chicken (serves 6)
1 1/2 lbs. chicken strips or chunks
1 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup pineapple juice
2 cloves garlic, minced (2 to 3)
1 T. sesame oil
2 T sesame seeds
4 green onions, chopped (optional)

Flour chicken and saute in a little olive oil. Mix remaining ingredients except green onions. Add to skillet and stir to coat chicken. Cook until sauce thickens.
Serve over rice with pineapple on the side. Garnish with green onions.
We like it with Jasmine rice.

Hopefully, the next time I serve it, some people's manners will have improved. (And for the record, I used two chopsticks to eat my meal.)

Hot, Hot, Hot

It was 101 degrees today in my town. And I am fortunate. I have fans and an air conditioner, so it's only 80 here in my living room. But days like this make me remember one very long, interminably hot summer.

It was 1988 and I was living in the residence for female grad students at Notre Dame. Summer school ran from late June until early August--right through the very hottest part of summer. While the accommodations were very nice for student housing, they were not built for Indiana summers. There was no air conditioning and we were to supply our own fans.

I was clueless. Having just lived through the worst winter I had ever dealt with (my full-length down coat and I were just about inseparable from November through March) I had no idea that in Indiana, the summers are hot. Real hot. And humid! Back home in northern New Jersey they were counting the number of 90-degree-plus days during the summer; in Indiana we were counting 100-degrees-plus!

We were nothing if not creative, though. We'd carry our little fans from place to place in the townhouse and plug them in wherever we were. We kept the curtains drawn on the sunny side of the house during the day. We took several showers a day. It wasn't uncommon for students to answer the question, "How are you?" with "I'm on my 3rd shower today. How about you?" We took walks in the shade around the lakes. We spent time in air-conditioned churches and chapels. And whenever we saw a lawn sprinkler aimed across a sidewalk, we walked really slowly through the cool spray.

Basically, we all lived with it. We groused and griped a little bit, but we survived, and we did it with a sense of humor. I can't speak for anyone else that summer, but I know I also did it with a little thankfulness. I was there to get an education, and I accomplished that goal. Living through that hot, hot summer was just one of the many small sacrifices that were made to get that degree. It was a small price to pay. And it's just a lucky thing that I did this when I was young and clueless enough to just take all that as a matter of course. I think that if I were offered the same chance a few years later, I'd have checked on the creature comforts first--and possibly turned down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Food For Thought

From today's homily:

"The purpose of a prophet is to remind us of the promises we have made."

That really struck me. I had always thought that the purpose of a prophet was to tell what would happen in the future. But prophecy is not necessarily all about prediction. Instead, it's about interpretation: examining what we know, and what we do, and offering an informed opinion on that.

Our pastor, Father D, has given me something to consider this week.

What promises have I made? And how am I doing in my efforts to keep them?

The Meme of 5 "What Are You Willing to Do?" Questions

I couldn't resist this one, at Ramblings of a GOP Soccer Mom:

1. Would you be willing to commit perjury in court for a close friend? What if your lie would save his life?

Even if I were willing to do that, there's no way I could pull it off. Let's just say that I was not blessed with the Poker Face.

2. Would you be willing to eat a bowl of live crickets for $40,000?

I don't think I could eat even one bug for any amount of money. I don't even like Gummy Worms. That just CREEPS ME OUT.

3. Would you have one of your fingers surgically removed if it guaranteed immunity from all major diseases?

Do I get to pick which one? I could live without the ring finger or pinky on my right hand. I need all the other ones to play guitar. But wait, I'm going to start organ lessons soon. I'm fairly sure I'll need all my fingers for that.

How about a toe?

4. Would you be willing to give up all television for 5 years if it would induce someone to provide for 1,000 starving children?

Yes. But I think I'd get the shakes every football season without being able to watch Notre Dame play. The rest, I could do without.

5. Would you accept $1 million to leave the country and never set foot in it again?

Not on your life. And there's a limit on the other places I'd be willing to visit. But this is where I want to live.

Doubting Mommy

Of my three, the child I worry about most is Middle Sister. She's 10-wishing-she-were-16, and we are Just So Different that I always feel like I am saying the wrong thing. As with any family, what works with one child doesn't necessarily work with the others, and I don't think I've found the right thing that works with her.

And the big thing here is, she's a girl. She's way more girly than I will ever know how to be. She wants nail polish and makeup and bikini bathing suits. She wants me to do her hair. And unfortunately I failed "Hair and Makeup" early in life. I think when God was giving out the fashion gene, I forgot to get in line, or something. But I worry about her. I worry about teaching her that it's important to be modest, now that she's growing up. (AAACK! She's growing up!) I think that if I do this the wrong way, she'll just think I'm trying to turn her into a fashion dork like I am.

She's a good kid. She loves to try new things. She's very athletic and sociable. She likes art and music but doesn't much like reading. She wants to help me cook and clean the house. She's funny, good company, and very helpful.

I want to make sure that my only girl doesn't feel left out because she's the only girl. I want to give her the skills and faith and everything she needs as she grows into a teenager (AAACK! She'll be a teenager soon!) and I want her to know that even though we don't agree on what clothes are appropriate for a girl of 10, and that even though I probably look like I belong on an episode of "What Not To Wear" (which she loves to watch), and even though I'm not good at doing hair, I love her and I'm proud of her. I want her to grow up healthy and happy and full of faith.

I'm just not sure I have the right tools for the job.

A Whirlwind Week, or Why SFO Mom Was Not Made to Live in the Country

My parents invited me, Middle Sister and Little Brother to come visit them while Daddy and Big Brother are camping with the Boy Scouts.

It's always a crazy time when we visit because we live over 100 miles away, so there's always the "pack as much into the visit as you can" mentality. This week was no different.

We left the house on Monday after Middle Sister's Summer Art Camp finished for the day. This way she'd only miss one session of Art Camp. We arrived midafternoon and my parents decided that we should come swim in the pool in the Restricted Living Community they moved to nearly 3 years ago.

They're in one of those senior townhouse-and-condo communities, where you can't have a flag, a gas grill, a clothesline or outdoor Christmas lights. Mom thinks she's countercultural because she refuses to hang a wreath of any type (except evergreen at Christmas) on the front door. I can't believe that my dad, who will not subscribe to E-Z Pass because "then the government will know my driving habits," has consented to live someplace where he can't throw cornhusks to the local deer.

Anyway, after the kids swam with a whole bunch of other people's grandparents, we had some dinner, played some board games, and watched some TV (evening highlight all week long: the Tour de France.)

Tuesday was spent in very pleasant company except for the mosquitos, who unfortunately outnumbered the people about 100 to 1. We drove another 25 miles on windy, hilly, unmarked country roads to visit my sister. We were all attending a cousin's birthday party at the local lake. Thunder marked a premature end to the swimming portion of the party, so we went to our cousin's house for cake. It was Mosquito Hell up there in that neighborhood. I don't know how they all stand it. We had dinner with my sister and her family and enjoyed the sight of 3 deer who roamed the backyard during our meal, watching us and waiting for handouts (which they got). Then, another round of Dodge the Mosquito as we piled into the van to head back to Mom and Dad's before it got too dark to see the unlit landmarks on the unmarked country roads.

I counted no fewer than 21 mosquito bites all over myself. Little Brother only has 4 but he has much less surface area than I do. He thinks he has 4 because he is 4 years old--guess that makes me 21? (I'll take it!)

Yesterday we ran a few errands with Mom and then hung around; it was rainy and we just played games, sat, read, napped and ate. Middle Sister took advantage of the ready supply of clothing and bedding catalogs to "window shop." I spent a few tedious hours reworking a design for my dad so he can make a stained-glass piece for my godfather. (I do not wish to pursue a career in stained-glass design--but he was happy with the result). At dinnertime my brother and his family came over, as did our great-aunt. It was a nice visit.

This morning Mom took us to a local store and got the kids each an outfit. And it was time to go, as I had plans to return to civilization and meet Amy and her little guy Bubba for lunch at a diner.

My sister lives 15 minutes from the nearest gallon of milk. I would go berserk! I live within walking distance of a 7-11, Target, Rite Aid, post office, a few delis, Taco Hell and the future home of Panera Bread. I think I saw a sign for a dollar store coming soon, too!

I miss my family when I'm not there, but they don't live where I grew up. And I wouldn't want to live in either place, to be honest. Here is pretty good for my family, right now. God knew what He was doing when He put us in this spot.

Works-For-Me Wednesday: Driving Directions

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I keep a pocket folder in my car. Every time we get driving directions to someone's home, we put them in the folder. This way, our directions are always in the car where we need them.

Bonus tip: write down the complete destination address and phone number on the directions!

To Sleep, Perchance to...

...wake up in the middle of the night at oh, say, 3 AM because you're hungry because you fell asleep 5 minutes before dinner was served and wouldn't wake up?

It's a distinct possibility for Little Brother. We were out late last night celebrating a relative's birthday at a minor league baseball game, and he was up early to say goodbye to Daddy and Big Brother as they left for a week at Boy Scout Camp.

Sometime after I sent him out of the kitchen with a cup of apple juice and without the pepperoni pizza he was asking for, he fell asleep on the couch. When dinner was ready I couldn't wake him up.

Not that I tried very hard. I have learned, during the 4 and 1/3 years that Little Brother's been around, that the precious little sleep he gets is not to be trifled with. If he's woken up before he's ready, it's like Jekyll and Hyde around here. The boy who was voted "Most Affectionate" by the high-school students who run the Play School in town turns into Evil Crabby Monster Boy. It's not pretty.

At this point, I can only hope that he wakes up in an hour or so, enough to eat a frozen waffle or two, get changed and stop in the bathroom--or he'll wake me up at 3 AM to let me know that his bed is wet. And he's hungry. And he won't be ready to go back to sleep then, that's for sure.

Quiz Time!

find your inner PIE @ stvlive.com

Your Power Color Is Lime Green

At Your Highest: You are adventurous, witty, and a visionary. At Your Lowest: You feel misunderstood, like you don't fit in. In Love: You have a tough exterior, but can be very dedicated. How You're Attractive: Your self-awareness and confidence lights up a room. Your Eternal Question: "What else do I need in my life?"

What's Your Power Color?

(Other than the "How You're Attractive" part I think this one is dead on. And as for the Blueberry Pie, sounds good to me!

H/T to Jean at Catholic Fire for these fun quizzes!

Use Words if Necessary

St. Francis has a famous saying: "Preach the Gospel at all times; use words if necessary."

Today was not the day for words.

Just as our pastor began his homily at the noon Mass today, a woman sitting with her husband near the front of the church began to feel faint. Father saw her keel over and immediately rushed to her pew to see if she was all right, and sent the altar servers to bring her some water and a wet cloth for her forehead. He made a joke about "swooning" to ease her mood a little. A few nearby worshippers quietly aided her as well, and Father started the homily again.

Not two minutes later it was obvious that the woman was in some distress and Father knew that he was needed for another purpose than preaching a homily. He hastily reached for the oil and calmed the woman: "I'm going to anoint you right here." One of the ushers located a cell phone and called for an ambulance.

Everything was quiet except for Father murmuring the words of the Sacrament and some parents whispering words of comfort to their children who were a little upset. After completing the anointing, Father spoke to the whole assembly: "Now we will say a silent prayer for our friend who is ill, that she will be restored quickly to full health and return to our presence soon. Then we will pray the Creed in the silence of our hearts."

There was a little frantic looking-around as everyone was visibly worrying about what was taking so long for the ambulance. Father announced that we would resume the Mass with the Offertory procession and begin the Liturgy of the Eucharist. As we knelt for the Consecration the ambulance finally came and the attendants wheeled the woman out of church on a stretcher. Someone offered to drive her husband to the hospital.

After Communion Father again asked for prayers for the woman, and observed, "The Lord Jesus Christ had a different homily in mind for today."

Preaching isn't always about words. Today our community took part in a sacrament that is not often celebrated publicly. And I believe that for that moment the community was truly focused on the sacrament being celebrated. Everyone was praying along with the priest for the ill woman. We were not worrying about what we were going to do after church, or what someone else was wearing, or our shopping lists for the week; we were relying on the grace of God to restore one among us to health.

As our second reading said today:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

Grace doesn't always need words. Neither does the Gospel. This afternoon, everyone in the church learned that.

Some Freebies Just Aren't Worth It

There's an expression I've heard often: "If it's for free, it's for me!"

I like freebies too! Who wouldn't? I've managed to score free candy bars, other grocery items (but candy bars are MUCH more fun than laundry detergent), a "looks new to me" used book at the library just for signing up for the summer reading club, a pint of premium ice cream, magazine subscriptions, and a gajillion samples for all kinds of products.

But freebies are not without their drawbacks.

For a while I'd take almost any magazine subscription that came my way, if it was free (well, nothing X-rated...) We were getting Field & Stream, Bicycling, Family Fun and Body & Soul. The first 2 basically got trashed, unread. WASTE OF RESOURCES here....the only ones getting rich are the Postal Service for delivering the copies each month.

Last week I was flipping through a back issue of Body & Soul (AKA Martha Stewart goes Buddhist). I have never seen such a slick, pretty monument to self-indulgence. There were a couple of interesting recipes and skin-care hints here and there, but mostly it's about yoga and pampering yourself (and your pet).

What sent me over the edge was an article in the "Inner Growth" section called "Anger Transformed" by Jennifer Louden. Since the article is not available online I will quote the passage in question. It's part of a sidebar headlined: "Paths to Peace."
Finally, consider a practice my mother-in-law would endorse: the sacrament of confession. I confessed to my hairdresser, Cathy, how I was angry...

Obviously the writers and editors of this magazine have NO idea what a "sacrament" really is. I don't have a beef with the author recommending the sacrament of confession as a strategy for dealing with anger, because through personal experience I have found that it works. My beef is that the author thinks that unloading her emotions on her hairdresser and getting some advice is equivalent to confession to, and absolution through, Christ by means of a priest.

According to
Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church

sacraments are "instituted by Christ and entrusted to the Church,...efficacious signs of grace perceptible to the senses" (q. 224).

I didn't see any mention of "hairdressers" in the Catechism.

Just because it's free doesn't mean it's worth taking. In the case of Body & Soul, I'll skip it in the future. I think my soul will be much safer that way.

Cookies I Can't Stop Eating

Thick and chewy chocolate-chip cookie bars are just the thing on a rainy day. (OK, they're just the thing on any day, but in the summer, a rainy day is the only time I want to turn on the oven for 30 minutes!)

Don't let the "bleached flour" in the ingredients scare you. Unbleached, all-purpose flour works just fine. And I added a dash of cinnamon, because I think that cinnamon makes anything with chocolate in it taste even better.

Did I mention I can't stop eating these?

Works-For-Me Wednesday: Refill Day

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This is a little routine I've developed for every Wednesday: Refill Day.

On Wednesdays I go around and refill all the things we use during the week, even if they're not yet empty:
the paper cups in the bathrooms
the jar of dishwasher soap in the kitchen (I buy it in bulk and the container's so big it has to live in the basement)
soap dispensers
my medication/vitamin organizer for the week (which had BETTER be empty by then, or I'm not doing my job right of taking good care of myself!)

I also make sure we have enough supplies such as paper towels, toilet paper, tissues and the like. If not, it goes on the shopping list.

It seems like a little thing, but having a routine to fill up all these items insures that we don't run out when they're immediately needed.

Refill Day works for me!

Click on the logo above to visit the rest of the Works-for-Me Wednesday bloggers!

God Bless America

I'm willing to bet you've never sung this song in its entirety. It's a beautiful praise to God for the wonders of our country--and a request that our nation be blessed, not with prosperity, but with generosity, goodness, unselfishness and grace.

O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassioned stress
A thoroughfare of freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!

O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!

O beautiful for halcyon skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the enameled plain!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till souls wax fair as earth and air
And music-hearted sea!

O beautiful for pilgrims feet,
Whose stem impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till paths be wrought through
wilds of thought
By pilgrim foot and knee!

O beautiful for glory-tale
Of liberating strife
When once and twice,
for man's avail
Men lavished precious life!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till selfish gain no longer stain
The banner of the free!

O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till nobler men keep once again
Thy whiter jubilee!

Words by Katharine Lee Bates,
Melody by Samuel Ward

H/T to Jean at Catholic Fire for the image, and to the Boy Scouts of America for the complete lyrics.

Trust Me

Little Brother's favorite new expression is "Trust me!" He sprinkles it indiscriminately through his conversations. "Mom, I like apple juice. TRUST ME!" I think he picked it up from Big Brother.

It's cute when he does it, but trust is a big thing with everyone, not just kids.

We all want to be trusted, and to show ourselves to be trustworthy. We want to be able to trust other people, especially people whom we love or who are in authority over us.

And today, on the Feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle, we remember that Jesus also told his apostles to "trust Me." We are all called to put our trust in God--even though we cannot see him.
"Do not let your heart be troubled;
trust in God, and trust in me.
In my Father's house are many rooms;
if not, I would have told you;
because I am going to prepare a place for you;
and if I go and prepare a place for you,
I will come again and welcome you to myself,
so that where I am you may be also.
And where I am going you know the way."
Thomas says to him, "Lord,
we don't know where you are going;
how can we know the way?"
Jesus says to him, "I am the way and the truth and life;
no one comes to the Father except through me.
If you had known me, you also would have known my Father.
From now on you know him and have seen him."
Philips says to him, "Lord, show us the Father,
and it is enough for us."
Jesus says to him, "So long have I been with you
and have you not known me, Philip?
Whoever has seen me has seen the Father;
how can you say, 'Show us the Father'?
Do you not believe that I am in the Father
and the Father is in me?
The sayings which I tell you I do not speak from myself;
but the Father living in me does his works.
Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father in me;
or else believe because of the works themselves.
"Amen, amen, I tell you, whoever believes in me
the works which I do one also will do,
and one will do greater than these,
because I am going to the Father;
and whatever you ask for in my name, this I will do,
so that the Father may be glorified by the son.
If you ask me for anything in my name, I will do it.
"If you love me, keep my commandments.
And I will ask the Father,
and he will give you another intermediary,
so that he may be with you forever, the spirit of truth,
which the world cannot accept,
because it neither sees it nor knows it;
you know it, because it stays with you and will be in you.
"I will not leave you orphans; I am coming to you.
A little while and the world no longer sees me,
but you see me, because I live and you will live.
On that day you will know that I am in the Father
and you are in me and I in you.
"Whoever has my commandments and keeps them,
that one is the one loving me;
and whoever loves me will be loved by my Father,
and I will love him and will reveal myself to him."
Judas (not Iscariot) says to him,
"Lord, but what has happened that you are
about to reveal yourself to us and not to the world?"
Jesus answered and said to him, "If someone loves me,
he will keep my word, and my Father will love him,
and we will come to him and make our home with him.
Whoever does not love me does not keep my words;
and the word which you hear is not mine
but the Father's who sent me.
"These things I have spoken to you remaining with you;
and the intermediary, the Holy Spirit
which the Father will send in my name,
that one will teach you everything
and remind you of everything I told you.
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you;
not as the world gives do I give to you.
Do not let your heart be troubled nor timid.
You heard that I told you,
"I will go away and I will return to you."
If you loved me,
you would be glad that I am going to the Father,
for the Father is greater than I.
"And now I have told you before it happens,
so that when it happens you may believe.
I will not speak much longer with you,
for the ruler of the world is coming;
and he has nothing on me,
but so that the world may know that I love the Father,
and as the Father commands, thus I do.
Rise, Let us go from here."
John 14:1-31

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord...

and may perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace.

Please keep in your prayers Amy (R.C. Mommy) as she mourns the loss of her grandmother. May she and her family be comforted during this time.

How Old Does a Child Have to be to Get Working Papers?

I just heard a very horrible, loud, pounding, thumping noise. Immediately my heart started pounding and thumping and I went running around the house searching for the source of the noise.

Then I found out it was Big Brother, in the basement, banging on the ductwork for our heating system.

"Please stop that!"

"Why?"

"It's very loud and it's freaking me out! I didn't know what it was!"

"Oh. It's just me. I came down here to get a clean shirt, and I got bored."

He got bored, getting a clean shirt?

I think his chore list is about to double. Obviously he has WAY too much time on his hands.

What he said.

Check out Dale's rant here at To Love, Honor Blog II. Amen to every bit of it.

Pointless Questions

I guess my kids are onto my habit of asking what Daddy terms "pointless questions"--those that have a very obvious answer OR those that have absolutely no answer at all.

Just now, I wondered aloud, "Why is the Army Guy Pez stuck behind the couch cushion here?" (His little face was peeking out the top)

Middle Sister was right on the ball with her reply: "He's spying on us. Leave him there."

I was so amazed that I actually put the thing back! Then as I walked away, Big Brother wanted to know, "Is the microphone turned on?"

(Microphone? HELLO! It's a PEZ!!!!)

2 for the Price of 1

This afternoon we set out to do a good deed. Our parish regularly supplies a local food pantry, housed at the Moravian church in town. One of the volunteers mentioned that supplies were getting low, and that food was needed.

There was a special need of food that children will eat, such as breakfast cereal, peanut butter and jelly, crackers, juice and the like. Something we may not think about is that in the summer when school's out, those children who receive free or low-cost breakfast and lunch at school are now on their own. So in the summer, food pantries have more demand and are feeding more children.

"Not-so-coincidentally" the next day, my neighbor asked if I knew where she could donate 14 packages of breakfast cereal that she had gotten free with the intention of donating them. I told her I'd bring them along with my own donations.

When the kids and I got to the food pantry, there was a sign on the door that they were closed today. So we headed over to church to leave the food in the foyer. Someone will bring it over after the weekend.

Middle Sister and I brought the food into the collection area, but we had to go through the back door of the church, where we saw a little sparrow hiding among the table legs and potted plants in the small vestibule. We couldn't chase him out so we rang the bell of the friary to ask the secretary what we should do about the bird. Her daughter came over and ultimately coaxed the frightened sparrow onto a pile of bulletins, and gently carried it outside, and the bird quickly flew away.

On the way home, the kids were speculating on what the bird might have been doing in the foyer: building a nest in the plants, having a "bird bath" in the holy water font....I preferred to think about how God cares for all the helpless ones, in all kinds of ways.

Super Sauerkraut

I am a sauerkraut junkie. When I used to work in the Bingo Kitchen, during Big Brother's early school days, they served homemade sauerkraut with the hot dogs. One of the callers used to buy a sauerkraut sandwich. My curiosity got the better of me, and I had to try it too.

Heavenly!

Now, this is just not as good with sauerkraut right out of the can. You have to prepare it right. And right now I've got a roaster oven full of sauerkraut happily simmering and waiting for dinnertime. It smells great in here, if you ask me. Just don't ask my kids.

Easy Polish-Style Sauerkraut
2 2-lb bags of sauerkraut, with most of the liquid squeezed out of them (do not wash)
2 onions, chopped (not too small)
1/4 lb cooked bacon, crumbled

Place all in roaster oven or slow cooker (6 qt holds this with room to spare). Cook for at least 2 hours on 200 (for roaster) or LOW (for slow cooker). Stir occasionally, and taste every time, because you won't be able to help yourself.

Goes great with kielbasa, hot dogs, Reuben sandwiches, or all by itself on a roll. Anyone want to come over and help me eat it? Nobody else in my house likes it. Good thing it freezes well....

Prayers for the Crazy Bikers

I am freaking out over these flood reports I've watched on the news, and now I'm glued to the Web with my giant RandMcNally map in my lap.

Tomorrow my dad's bike route takes him across a portion of the Susquehanna River that is expected to be about 4 feet above flood stage by late afternoon tomorrow. I just called my mom so that she can let him know when he calls her tonight, that I'm willing to drive to "wherever" in Pennsylvania and get him and his crazy friends to someplace dry where they can bike. I've got a map and a full tank of gas, and I don't mind using them. There's a good chance he won't be able to cross the Delaware on Friday if they don't reopen the Frenchtown bridge (it's closed now).

Patron Saints of Travelers include St. Anthony of Padua, St. Joseph, St. Nicholas, and the Archangel Raphael. Please pray for a safe trip for them, and that they don't let their pride get in the way of their safety.

UPDATE: So far so good on Thursday. They crossed the Susquehanna with no problem and reached their expected destination for tonight. There's still a good shot that the Delaware River bridge he wanted to cross will be closed--but it's a short (1 hour) drive for me if they need a ride tomorrow. Thank you very much....I'm breathing a BIG sigh of relief.

Works-for-Me Wednesday: Waiting Games

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In the past week I've had to take my kids on several errands that involve Waiting (haircuts, doctor apppointments, oil change for the Momobile). Since the Big Kids can read, they're pretty good about waiting for reasonable spans of time. But Little Brother is only 4 and he can get itchy pretty fast.

So, without further ado, here are SFO Mom's Top Three Waiting Games:
1. "I Spy" is a hit with all ages and can be played anywhere.
2. "I Spy in a Magazine" can keep Little Brother busy for quite a while. I like to use a parenting magazine for this, since there are plenty of pictures of animals, toys, children, food and cars in those. Then I sit there with Little Brother and ask him to find the fish, or the soccer ball, or the red car.
3. At a doctor's office, bring a small pack of crayons. My pediatricians don't mind when the kids draw on the paper on the examining table. It's put in the trash after we leave the room anyway. BONUS: it gives the pediatrician something to chat with the child about during the examination.

I hope these Waiting Games work for you--they work for me!

One for Good Luck

This morning Little Brother gave me a Big Hug. He told me, "I'm giving you a HUG! For good luck!"

Good luck in what, I don't know. But I'll take it!

Ewwwww....

Apparently now the latest trend in "teenwear" is an expensive item of clothing that looks like it's destined either for the washing machine or the rag pile--but no, you buy it that way!

I'm not letting my kids see this article. As it is, I have to pry away their torn/stained clothing from their clutching little fingers, and HIDE it in the trash. I have to HIDE their outgrown things so I can pass them along/save them for the next younger child. I have to fight with them to put on a clean, non-ripped shirt before we leave the house. And now people are buying clothes with purposely-set-in underarm stains?

(It's satire, but the idea still grosses me out.)

Wisdom from Today's Saint

The Saint we celebrate today is St. Josemaria Escriva. In a quick Internet search, I found a great many wonderful, thought-provoking quotes attributed to him. Here's one that reaches to the heart of what I aim toward as a Franciscan striving to live that life in the world of my home, family and community:
I assure you, my children, that when a Christian carries out with love the most insignificant everyday action, that action overflows with the transcendence of God. That is why I have told you so often, and hammered away at it, that the Christian vocation consists in making heroic verse out of the prose of each day. Heaven and earth seem to merge, my children, on the horizon. But where they really meet is in your hearts, when you sanctify your everyday lives.

And another: ‘Great’ holiness consists in carrying out the ‘little’ duties of each moment.

As Jean at Catholic Fire points out in her chronology of his life, he viewed his mission as opening "a new path to holiness through sanctification of work in the midst of the world."

Learn more about him through his writings at this site.

How to Tell When the Choir is Doing a Good Job

I've been playing with a folk choir these past couple of months, and because of the style of the church, I can see nearly everyone in the assembly from where the choir stands. The people in this parish really make an effort to sing, which is a good thing--I even saw the altar servers singing the psalm response and the acclamations.

But you really know that the choir is doing its job of Leading the Assembly in Praising the Lord when you look at the people during the "Alleluia"--and many of them are singing their hearts out, with smiles on their faces.

Book Bleg

I found out today that Big Brother has a Summer Reading List for 3 classes: English (which I expected), History and Religion. The last one is quite problematic for me. Not that he has to read something, but what he has to read.

For Religion, all freshmen are expected to read do a basic book report (characters, setting, conflict, resolution) on the novel Joshua by Joseph Girzone. (The other books he has to read are Agatha Christie novels and The Hound of the Baskervilles--no problems there).

My husband and I are more than a little concerned about the fact that a Catholic high school is requiring this novel, which, if I remember correctly (and I just started rereading it to make sure I have my opinions straight here) makes out Church authorities to be overly concerned with rules and laws, and basically puts down the need for rules altogether.

Maybe I should purchase Big Brother a copy of The Screwtape Letters when I buy those other books on his reading list, just to balance out this one.

If anyone has any good information I can use when discussing this book with my child--and whether or not I should make an issue of it with the school--I'd appreciate it. My inclination right now is to see what they do with it. It may be that the book is read, assignment done, and the teacher never talks about it again. And then again...

I will be paying attention, make no mistake about it.

Three Crazy Guys on Bicycles

Today my dad and two of his friends will be driving from northern New Jersey to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania for the start of their vacation.

They'll spend the rest of the week coming back--on bicycles.

Here's a rough outline of their route:


Unfortunately, their route takes them far enough north of my home that I won't be able to host them for dinner, like we did last year.

But if you see three crazy men on bicycles along the southern tier of Pennsylvania, share the road, give them a wave, and pray for their safety. And remind my dad to keep that water bottle full, OK?

Thanks.

A Little Nugget from my SFO Fraternity Meeting

My SFO Fraternity met tonight. It was a productive evening; we got together our slate for next month's elections (if you're so inclined, please pray that we will all let the Lord guide us in the right direction as we cast our votes for our Council), and our Ongoing Formation was on the topic of Humility.

After that, our Spiritual Assistant led a lively discussion that covered quite a few topics, including but not limited to Humility, Service, pastoral leadership, sacrifice, The DaVinci Code, and stories from the life of St. Francis.

The Spiritual Assistant of a SFO fraternity is traditionally a Franciscan priest, and we are blessed to have one in our midst. And one thing I have noticed before, but that really came out in the discussion tonight, is that Father is not afraid to talk about the Devil. Some priests tiptoe around the subject. Not this priest, and I'm glad of that. He wants us to know that the Evil One is real, he is out there, and he is trying very hard to stop us from doing what is right and good.

He also wants us to know that we do not have power over the Devil, all by ourselves. Because the Devil is a preternatural being with the wisdom of the ages, we must recognize that his power does exist and that we must enlist the help of those More Powerful Than The Devil:
The Blessed Mother
Saint Michael the Archangel
Our Guardian Angels
and, of course, God.

Because God doesn't expect us to do it alone. We have been given the gift of these others to help us on our path. So, to use the favorite closing line of our Spiritual Assistant: "While we have time, let us do good."

Let's Go Live

...because that's where the love is.



Today is the Feast of the Sacred Heart. If you scroll down on this Catholic Culture page, you will see that devotion to the Sacred Heart was important to the early Franciscans, in the beautiful passage from Saint Bonaventure's writings.

Thanks again to Dan at Faithmouse for a beautiful toon expressing the spirit of this day.

Worth the Read

Father Jim at Dappled Things has an essay on what to do when you "don't feel spiritual." He suggests that you don't have to feel spiritual to be spiritual. But whether you "feel spiritual" or not, these are good reminders.

And over at Summa Mamas there's a terrific short piece on procrastination. Read it now!

The Latest in Home Decor

Dilemma: You have a lovely pair of crystal candlesticks but no candles to put in them.

Solution (provided by my children just before dinnertime last night):


As you can see, Martha Stewart doesn't live here.
Big Brother says, "That's a Good Thing."

Landscaping

My neighbor has a landscaper. These guys are pros. They come in with their 3 giant mowers, miscellaneous blowers, weed wackers and other noisy power equipment before 8 AM. (These are not big yards, so 3 giant mowers seems a bit excessive.)

We have Big Brother. He doesn't willingly get up that early anyway, and he is not yet cleared by Daddy to use the weed wacker or edger. He just mows.

He's not a pro. A lot of times he misses spots, he forgets to sweep the sidewalk after he's done, and the edge by the fence is always a mess.

Last week I was ranting and raving because my neighbor's landscaper was using noisy power equipment before 8 AM. I know they work in the heat and want to be done early. But it's kind of early to be that noisy.

Today I'm not going to complain, because just now when I was at the kitchen sink filling the coffeepot, I noticed that the neighbor's landscaper had hopped the fence and was edging along the fence in our yard.

Middle Sister was wondering how he got in the yard. I said, "I guess he climbed the fence. Kind of dangerous with a weed wacker, though!"

Middle Sister answered, "He did climb the fence! He just went back. He turned off the weed wacker first."

That's a good thing. Wouldn't want him to hurt himself, especially since he was doing Big Brother a BIG favor.

Outstanding

Middle Sister just wandered over to show off her "manicure." (She's enjoying the reprieve from the no-nail-polish-per-the-school-dress-code rule).

She didn't do a bad job, but you could use those nails to land planes, the color is so bright. I will have to speak to my cousin, who donated the nail polish to Middle Sister's cause.

Middle Sister: "Like my naaaaaaaails?"

Me: "You did a nice job on the polish. It's not my favorite color, though."

MS: "Why not?"

Me: "It's too bright. I like colors a little paler on nails."

MS, as she sweeps out of the room as only a 10-year-old in a robe can: "I like it. It makes me stand OUT."

That's the big difference between me and my daughter. She loves to stand out. She's not shy. She likes to be noticed. (With nails like hers, there's little chance she won't get noticed.)

My challenge is to make sure that she stands out for the right reasons.

Works-For-Me Wednesday: Vinegar Rinse

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Today's tip is one I've been using for almost a year now: the Vinegar Rinse.

No, not for my hair (though I've heard it's good for that purpose too)--for my LAUNDRY.

Instead of adding some Downy or Snuggle to the handy-dandy little fabric-softener dispenser in my washing mashine, I put in about 1/4 cup white vinegar and fill the dispenser the rest of the way with cold water.

The vinegar works really well at getting the extra soap out of the clothes and even softens them. BONUS: unlike fabric softener, the Vinegar Rinse doesn't cause your towels to be less absorbent. BIGGER BONUS: Vinegar costs less than $2 a gallon. Fabric softener costs more than $5 a gallon. A gallon of vinegar lasts twice as long as a gallon of fabric softener, so I save $8 with each gallon of vinegar I use.

I hang a good deal of laundry on my outdoor clothesline when the weather permits, and the clothes are soft enough to satisfy everyone in the family. When I do put something in the dryer, I add about 1/3 of a dryer sheet, because static cling is not something the vinegar takes care of well.

With only 1/4 cup vinegar per load, my clothing does not smell like salad. Since I'm fragrance-sensitive, it doesn't bother me that they don't smell "April Fresh." I like the scent of air-dried clothing without the extra perfume anyway.

Last week some readers asked me to post a pic on my blog. I know you were really after what SFO Mom looks like in goggles, but you're not going to get that one. Sorry. (No, I'm not, actually...) This will have to suffice. Here I am in my Outdoor Laundry Room.


Vinegar Rinse in the laundry works for me.

What My Bumper Sticker SHOULD Say?

Your Bumper Sticker Should Be

Give me ambiguity - or give me something else

What Bumper Sticker Should Be On Your Car?

AllRIGHTY then!

Via Mrs_Who.

All This Time, I Thought It Was Just a Parent Thing

"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

Portiuncula has this quote from Saint Francis:
And all the brothers are to guard against speaking falsely of anyone
and are to avoid verbal disputes. Rather, let them seek to keep silent
whenever God gives them the grace to do so. And they are not to argue
among themselves, nor with others, but they are to strive to respond
with humility, saying, "We are useless servants." (Luke 17:10)
Rule of 1221, Chapter XI

Who knew that this bit of wise counsel came from Saint Francis? I thought it was just something parents said to keep their kids from squabbling!

A 4-Year-Old's Compassion

Little Brother is turning out to be just as sweet as Middle Sister when someone is sick. When she was 3 or 4, and someone wasn't feeling good, she'd practically bury them beneath all her special stuffed animals and blankets. As she got older she appointed herself Chief Temperature Taker and Drink Fetcher. Everyone always says that she'd make a good nurse when she grows up.

Yesterday and today Little Brother has been very solicitous about my health. He'll come over and announce,
"I'm gonna give you a hug and a kiss!" After that, he'd ask, "Did that feel you better?"

This morning he rediscovered his Very First Stuffed Animal: a dragon that has a music box in it, that plays "London Bridge." I told him how he used to like listening to that music when he was a very little baby. Then he pulled the string to start the music, put the dragon in my lap, hugged me and told me that it would "feel me better." And, of course, it did.

An Open Letter to Woman's Day Magazine

I wanted to write and let you know why I have decided to let my subscription, which ends this August, run out rather than renewing your magazine, to which I have been a longtime subscriber and reader. In fact, I've read the magazine since I was about 10 years old, because my mother is also a longtime subscriber and reader. Now I have a daughter who is 10 years old, but I do not feel that I can leave your magazine on my coffee table for her to browse through.

Recently I have noticed some changes in the tone and substance of Woman's Day, changes that, in my opinion, are not for the better. I don't appreciate the "celebrity" articles, for example. If I wanted to read about how Nicole Kidman decorates her kitchen or raises her children, I'll read People or Good Housekeeping or Redbook. I always respected your magazine for steering clear of the celebrity subject and focusing more on people whose lives are lived farther away from the red-carpet lifestyle.

Your May 9, 2006 issue contained a section on "Your Reproductive Health." I found the information contained in the article to be both biased and incomplete. For example, for 2 of the 4 cancers profiled (uterine and ovarian) you recommend that a woman use Birth Control Pills as a preventative measure. You do not mention that the use of Birth Control Pills has been implicated in the increase in breast cancer that has been recorded in the past 30 years. You also fail to mention the abortion-breast cancer connection, which has been the subject of many studies lately.

Worse, you have a quote by Dr. Douglas Laube, chair of the ACOG, in large type and circled in pink at the top of a page, expressing his wish that women "had an increased awareness of and access to emergency contraception (EC). EC is one of the best-kept secrets in medicine today; it's sad that more women either don't know about it or can't get it." Highlighting an opinion such as this in the way that you have indicates to me that your magazine is taking a direction that I choose not to follow.

As a Roman Catholic wife and mother, I do not believe that women should be fed Birth Control Pills as a means of fighting off cancer. Birth Control Pills have an abortifacient effect, changing the uterine lining so that it will not accept the implantation of an already-fertilized egg. In this respect, they act in the same way that EC does. They kill an innocent baby.

I will not subscribe to a magazine that highlights the use of artificial hormones for the purposes of taking innocent life. The celebrity-lifestyle articles are something I could flip past and ignore, but your pieces on "reproductive health" are actually more along the lines of "reproductive selfishness" and I do not wish to bring such articles into my home. I deserve better and so does my daughter.

It's Father's Day

and instead of having a nice big breakfast made for him by his loving family, Daddy is making me a cup of tea. By all appearances, I have strep throat. So I am not allowed near the stove to make him some pancakes and sausage. The poor guy has to do that himself. He's not complaining, though; he's nagging me about what medicine I have already taken and what I should take some more of if I can manage to swallow another pill.

This was supposed to be his day to sit in the recliner (if we had a recliner, which we don't) and read his paper and relax.

But he's a great dad a great husband and he's letting me relax instead, and even making me some tea.

Christine has a great roundup on posts for Father's Day; check them out. Also, look at what Barbara Curtis has to say. Whatever I had to say is going to have to wait.

Passing the Time

Daddy's plane landed 1 1/2 hours ago, so he should be home by now. Everyone is waiting anxiously to show him his surprise. Each time a car passes the house, someone in here is peeking out the window.

Middle Sister has decided to use the time more productively: "Might as well practice The Worm while I wait."

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

I think today I'll be needing some chocolate for breakfast.

I've been up for no longer than 1 hour and 15 minutes.

When I took my shower, the water kept changing temperature because the powder room toilet decided to run on and off, on and off, the entire time. (I can't figure out how to fix it)

When I went to make the coffee, the little spring that tells the coffeemaker whether there is a coffeepot under the filter pan to pour coffee into, fell off and rolled under the refrigerator. (I did manage to retrieve, wash, and repair it; coffee's brewing now).

Little Brother wet his bed.

After I washed and dressed him and stripped his bed I brought the wet things to the laundry. Middle Sister had put something large on the dryer last night. When I moved it, I knocked the dryer-vent tube loose. (I'm not sure I have it on quite tight enough).

Definitely, chocolate for breakfast. What would be more nutritious--Snickers or Almond Joy?

Why is it

that when my husband is away, I get this uncontrollable urge to move furniture?

Luckily for me (and my back) the kids enjoy the adventure of rearranging a room (or several) and will even help. Couldn't have done it without them. And won't Daddy be surprised when he gets home?

How Far Will the Food Police Go?

Yesterday it was all over the local news that Kentucky Fried Chicken food has a lot of fat in it--way more than what's good for you, according to the Center for Science in the Public Interest.

Somebody paid good money (probably my money and your money) to conduct a study to figure this out. I could have told them that just based on the number of napkins one must use when consuming a 3-Piece Extra Crispy Value Meal with Biscuit, Potatoes and Gravy.

So, yeah. Fast food has a lot of fat in it. (It has a lot of salt too, but they didn't study that. They'll probably wait and waste my money and your money on that another time.) It has more fat than what's good for you.

But nobody is forcing that fast food down your throat. People who eat fast food make the choice to eat fast food. They could get a salad but they don't. They could cook at home but they don't. (And yes, sometimes I eat fast food. And sometimes I get fast food for my family. I don't think that occasional fast-food consumption is going to kill us.)

This all makes me wonder, though--how far is the government going to take this? There are lawsuits pending against companies for putting too much fat in their foods. And I agree with Yum! Brands (parent company of Kentucky Fried Chicken) that such lawsuits are frivolous. They make the food. They sell the food. They do not put a gun to their customers' heads and make them eat the food. Unless they blatantly lie in their advertising, saying that food with more fat in a single meal than an adult needs in a week is Good For You, or unless their kitchens are filthy and therefore unsafe, then they can prepare their food in whatever manner they want. It's their ingredients, their recipe, their product.

What I fear is that with the thinking that one can sue over, and legislate, menus in restaurants over the amount of a certain ingredient that is put in a food that people CHOOSE TO BUY AND EAT, will come decisions by the health-care industry that they will deny care to people who CHOOSE to do things that are bad for them. Patients will be screened before treatment. Heavy drinker? Smoker? Eater-of-stuff-that's-bad-for-you? Sorry. It was wrong, you knew it was wrong, but you did it anyway. Can't help you out. Pregnant, and in need of prenatal care? Too bad...you should have used birth control. You're on your own. Injured in a motorcycle accident? Can't operate on you; you chose not to wear a helmet. You're too stupid to deserve our care.

Is that where we're going with this? Will parents of Downs Syndrome babies be denied proper care for those children, because they didn't choose to abort?

A future in which decisions for a person's health care are directly related to that person's choices (good, bad or otherwise) does not seem that far away to me. It does, however, seem very scary.

Works-For-Me Wednesday: Onions

A Roundabout of Tried-and-True Tips of All Kinds, brought to you by


I'm a Complete And Total Wimp when it comes to chopping onions. I cook with them at least three times a week, but it's always been a struggle to chop them. I wind up in tears and unable to see the onions or the knife--never a good thing.

Last week in preparation for our very large party, I had about 7 pounds of onions to slice, dice and chop for various dishes. I looked around on the Web for some ideas on "no-more-tears" onion slicing.

I couldn't envision myself managing to slice onions underwater (one suggestion) but I did find a tip I could use: Wear swim goggles when slicing onions.

I'm a glasses wearer, but I found I could see well enough to use the knife. Certainly I could see better than when tears are running out of my eyes and pooling up behind my glasses.

It looked pretty weird, but wearing swim goggles when slicing onions works for me!

Two Images for Today

I found some great images of Saint Anthony of Padua on different blogs today. Very different images, but both very special in their own way.

At A Peek into Insanity, we see:


I love the devotion you can see in the eyes of both figures in this image.

Faithmouse has a very clever tribute to Saint Anthony today also:


Cool pun on the "Doctor of the Church" title! But it's not done in a mocking way, but rather in a way that honors Saint Anthony's concern for the health of the Church.

Hat tip to both these bloggers for the images.

A New Twist

I can't begin to count how many times I've told the kids not to play ball in the house.

"Mom always said, don't play ball in the house."

But until today, the indoor ballplaying had been restricted to throwing balls. Little Brother, who marches to the beat of a different drummer, put a new spin on the forbidden activity. He was caught at the top of the kitchen stairs, wiffle-ball bat and Talking Phillies Kind-of-Soft Baseball in hand, ready for the first pitch.

A Postmortem of a Very Weird Sort

Big Brother has returned to school nearly every day since graduation. He was asked by the staff to help the teachers box up, clean out, take down and throw out the contents of the classrooms, along with a few other graduates.

So there's a big dumpster right outside the front door, next to the flagpole. Apparently the boys have been (with adult permission) tossing stuff out second-floor windows into the dumpster. The teachers on the third floor refused to let them throw things from that height, however. Definitely a wise move on their part.

Basically it's been a kind of macabre garage sale. The kids helping out the teachers have found all sorts of interesting things in the storage areas, and they're told that they can keep some of it, or throw it out. He's gotten a radio, a small disco ball, a fox puppet, a set of Bible videos, some sport bottles, an old but functioning labelmaker, a volleyball and a package of math manipulatives.

It occurred to me this morning another way in which the loss of the school will be a loss to the parish. The school has provided a steady supply of Altar Servers to the church. The children served at daily Mass during summer vacation as well as during the school year. They were well-trained and reverent. The adults who attended daily Mass appreciated the presence of the young servers, and I believe that the servers benefited not only from attending daily Mass--even if it was only for a week at a time, here and there--but from the example and dedication of the adults who attended. The blessing of that contact between young and older Catholics will, I think, be missed by all of them.

And the sight of the dumpster in front of the school, next to the flagpole where the children used to line up each morning...that is something I hoped I would never see. I hate to drive up to the school and be confronted by it. All that tradition, all that dedication, all that hard work--into the dumpster.

Saint Anthony, pray for us

Tomorrow, June 13, is the Feast of Saint Anthony of Padua. He's probably one of The Most Famous and Popular saints out there, and what's really interesting is that even though so many people know of him, I'd bet that very few know too much about him.

First of all, Saint Anthony wasn't from Padua. He wasn't even Italian--he was Portuguese! And his whole life story, which is fascinating, involves one situation after another when he set out with a goal in mind and wound up doing something, or being somewhere, completely different. He set out to become an Augustinian friar, but became a Franciscan after encountering some at his monastery. He hoped to become a martyr after preaching the Word of God to the Moors, in the manner of the first Franciscans he met. Always he was willing to listen for the will of God in his life; he was always ready to change his course to follow where the Lord was leading. Saint Anthony was a model of obedience; the word obey comes from the root "to hear" and this is exactly what he did. He heard the voice of God and followed it.

He was famous for preaching, and for his scholarship in Scripture and theology. There is a story that when Anthony discovered once that he was preaching to people who refused to accept God's truth, he turned around, faced the water and preached to the fish instead. Because the Child Jesus miraculously appeared to Anthony, he is often pictured in art holding the Baby Jesus, as well as a Bible and a lily (for purity).

Growing up, I was surrounded by family members who held great devotion to Saint Anthony. Because I was nurtured in a Franciscan environment (school, parish and an uncle who's a Franciscan priest) there were lots of opportunities to participate in this devotion through the Tuesday novenas to Saint Anthony. As a child I looked forward to the little breads that were given to novena attendees, in commemoration of Saint Anthony's practice of feeding the poor. One of the prayers that is part of the novena ritual is taken from Saint Anthony's sermons:

Bind us to you and to our neighbor with love.
May our hearts not be turned away from you.
May our souls not be deceived, nor our talents or minds enticed by allurements of error, so that we may never distance ourselves from your love.
Thus may we love our neighbor as ourselves with strength, wisdom and gentleness.
With your help, you who are blessed throughout all ages. Amen.

There's a lot more to Saint Anthony than the whole "finder of all lost things" title that has been conferred upon him by centuries of tradition. A few years ago I read a book called "A Rich Young Man" by John Beahn (which apparently is out of print); it was excellent. The most important thing that I took away from this book was that when presented with the choice: "My Way or God's Way?", Saint Anthony chose God's Way.

Pray for us, Saint Anthony, that we too will be willing and courageous enough to listen for and follow God's will in our lives.

Obviously, he has the wrong skill set for this job

Little Brother just asked Big Brother, "Can you help me get my army guys out?"

Big Brother answered, "You can do it!"

Little Brother's response was, "No I can't! With all my skills, I can't. You can."

Since when did a 4-year-old start throwing around H-R terms? I'm noticing that he did manage to marshal the skills necessary to get his tank, fort and army guys and begin setting up a battle.

Sleep! Who Needs It?

Me, that's who! But I'm not getting any sleep tonight.

I fell asleep just fine, thank you, after cleaning up from Big Brother's Big Honkin' Graduation Party and Moon Bounce Jamboree. A good time was had by all. A good meal was had by all, too. At least I hope so! I cooked so much food; if you left here hungry it was not my fault.

The Boy Scouts are camping at a local lake this weekend, and they called Big Brother to ask if he'd come to camp after the party, so he could play Laser Tag with them. He'll never say no to that. They're probably all still up playing Laser Tag.

Little Brother was a Super Cranky, Whiny Boy all day yesterday. He didn't even feel like singing his new favorite song for my mom, and he loves to sing for her. In case you wanted to know, the title is "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep, Have You Any More?" Around midnight we found out why he was so cranky--he's got a fever. Poor guy.

And Middle Sister was disappointed that after the party was over I did not feel like watching a movie until all hours of the night. I may as well have, for all the sleep I'm getting now.

In less than 3 hours I have to wake up Daddy so he can fly to Boston to participate in Tech-Ed (what I refer to as "The Geek Convention.") He'll get to spend 6 days talking about programming with people who actually understand him! That almost never happens at home. Wonder what I should ask him to bring back--besides the usual bag full of freebie pens with computer-company logos and the occasional T-shirt. One year it was in New Orleans and he got me some Cafe du Monde coffee. But Boston--hmmm....baked beans don't travel well and neither does clam chowder.

I had a Father's Day gift all wrapped ready to give my dad, but I forgot, while he was here. Sorry, Dad. You'll just have to wait. And it's a Really Cool Gift, too!

Waiting in Line at the Bank Drive-Thru

We've all done that. I do it at least once a week.

But yesterday I did something I've never done before.

I waited in line at the bank drive-thru...behind a pedestrian.

What to do when a storm approaches

1. Ask Mom to check the radar on Weatherbug and see how far away the storm is.

2. Notice how hard the wind is blowing.

3. Run outside to see exactly how hard the wind is blowing.

4. Run back inside and find a piece of paper.

5. Make a paper airplane.

6. Go back out and fly the airplane in the next big wind gust.

7. Repeat until the rain starts and the plane gets wet.

Brought to you by the Big and Little Brother Department of Fun and Amusement

Another APB

Little Brother has been playing "Hide from Mommy" today. He thinks it's funny. I do not. After the first episode this morning, he received his first lecture about "answer me when I call you."

Just as Big Brother finished mowing the lawn, I noticed that the sound of Little Brother's chatter was not part of the background noise. Middle Sister was watching TV, and we both started looking for Little Brother. She checked outside; I checked all the rooms of the house. She was dialing the phone to ask the neighbors if he'd left the building without "checking out" and gone to visit their puppy when I found him. Under a very heavy afghan, with a contraband Game Boy.

Video games are reserved for after dinner around here. But Little Brother's privileges have been suspended until further notice. I'm in the kitchen chopping vegetables, so I assigned Middle Sister to take Little Brother outside to play, and keep an eye on him.

So she started a game of Hide and Seek.

At my age, it can't be an Amber Alert

But I think we should put out an APB anyway.

Screaming Meemie Nutty Party Mom is missing.

Tomorrow we are having a whole lot of party--almost 100 family members and friends--to celebrate Big Brother's graduation. This is what happens when you have a large extended family!

Normally by this stage of the game I am a complete wreck. I go around, spinning my wheels, micromanaging everyone else and, well, you get the idea. It's like a cross between the White Tornado and a drill sergeant. It's not pleasant. By the time the party comes around, nobody wants to.

This year, I think my husband is wondering if we've got one of those "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" things going. The poor guy is probably waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eventually I'm going to have to lose it.

I certainly can't figure out why it is that this time I am keeping it together. I'm cooking for more people than I've ever cooked for--with some help from my terrific neighbors. But I just keep looking around, checking my list, and thinking, "I'm OK."

On the other hand, let's cancel that Amber Alert. I don't want Screaming Meemie Nutty Party Mom back, and I'm sure my family doesn't either. I prefer the gift I've been given, thank you. Because it has to be a gift. There's just no other explanation.

Culture of Life Quote of the Day

Jean at Catholic Fire has this posted and I hope she doesn't mind that I post it here as well--because we all need to pay attention to this one:

Everybody today seems to be in such a terrible rush, anxious for greater developments and greater riches and so on, so that children have very little time for their parents. Parents have very little time for each other, and in the home begins the disruption of peace of the world.

~ Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Works-for-Me Wednesday: Bread Box

Brought to you by


I don't own a breadbox. And with a 10X11 kitchen that contains a table for 4 (obviously we don't eat our meals there anymore) plus the usual cabinets and appliances, I don't have space for a breadbox.

What I do own is a Nesco roaster. OK, I own several, but only one big enoug for this job. It's so big that the only place I can store it is on top of the dry sink in my dining room--but it looks kind of "retro" so I can go with it. When I'm not using it as a mini-oven or very large soup tureen, I have a black wire basket inside it, full of bread, English muffins, and burger buns. When I need to use the roaster it's easy to just take out the basket of bread and relocate it for a short while. The bread stays just as fresh as it would in a breadbox, I'm using what would otherwise be "dead space" and I don't lose my precious countertop inches.

Works for me!

I Like Wednesdays

...because it means I get to stock up on great tips from the Works for Me Wednesday crew.

Tune in tomorrow for mine. When I think of one.

But I wanted to link to The Most Super Tip that I happened upon last week: the Dinner Dice.

Basically you use a cube (cardboard, wood, whatever) and write a chore on each side. Mine read:
Say Grace
Set Table
Wipe Table
Fridge Filler (put away butter, grated cheese, whatever!)
Dish Helper
Floor Sweeper

All of these chores can in some way be done by my children at the ages they are. Of course, Little Brother needs more help in some departments, but he's very good at helping out. And I think it's good for the kids to learn that the butter does not magically leave the table, jump to the kitchen and hide itself in the butter compartment of the fridge when they are not looking.

So, before dinner they all get to roll the dice. Tonight Little Brother got Daddy to roll the dice too. Guess what! Daddy got "Dish Helper!" Was I lucky or what?!

Capillary Action in Action

Big Brother was given a carnation at graduation last night; all the students got one, to give to their mothers. I couldn't find a bud vase too readily so I put it in a tall iced tea glass.

After dinner Middle Sister announced that she knew how to make the flower turn color. I let her put several drops of food coloring in the water. She instructed us to wait overnight and we'd see the change.

Little Brother was intrigued by the tall glass containing bright green water and a white flower.

LB: "Why is the water green?"
Me: "Middle Sister wants the flower to drink the green water and turn green."

This fascinated Little Brother, so much so that I needed to add, "You may NOT drink the green water."

SFO Mom Gets to Brag

Last night Big Brother graduated from 8th grade. And he did us proud.
He received several awards:
The Altar Rosary Society Service Award (given to all graduating Altar Servers)
The American Legion Award for courage, scholarship, etc....it almost sounded like a recitation of Boy Scout qualities--but he is a Boy Scout, so it fits.
The award for the highest grade in History (his favorite subject)
The award for the highest grade in Religion, given by the Catholic Daughters
The General Excellence Award (given to the two students with the highest grade-point averages in the class)

All this, despite the fact that almost every day, when asked if he had homework, the answer was, "I did it in Science."
Great job, Big Brother!

I'm Charging Up My Camera Battery

Tomorrow Big Brother graduates from 8th grade.

I received an email this morning from the Music Director asking me if I'd like to help accompany and sing at the Graduation Mass. Middle Sister will be an Altar Server. We will be a busy bunch but that makes the occasion more special, I think.

I haven't played in that church since it was announced that the school would close. It's going to be hard--because I think the pastor is going to be there, and I have not come to terms with our differences regarding the way the school closing was handled, and my feelings of betrayal over it. So I guess I'd better pick a dress with pockets, because along with my camera I'm going to need to carry some tissues.

I'll be smiling too, though, because I am very proud of Big Brother (despite his apparent lack of table manners) and all he has achieved. I'm looking forward to his entering high school in the fall, where he will study German--because he wants to--and where he will be challenged in some Honors classes.

So I will pour that pride into every chord I play, every lyric I sing. I will try to forget about the bad stuff, even when a physical reminder is right there in front of me. I will try to just celebrate the moment, and send off the 8th grade on a happy note. The Recessional Hymn is "Lead Me, Lord." Amen to that.

More Things I Never Thought I'd Need to Say

At Middle Sister's keyboard recital tonight: "Don't braid your earrings."

The mom across the table just stared at me for a second--and then we both lost it.

A Sentence that Strikes Fear in a Mother's Heart

"Betcha I can do 21," Big Brother bragged through a mouthful of 14 grapes.

Would you like a side of Heimlich with your grapes?

A Model for All of Us

I remember that when I was recently out of college, I participated in a focus group to critique a draft of the US Bishops' Pastoral Letter on Women. My "liberal" arts education just completed, I was not in much of a position to be receptive to much of the content of the letter. I think I was more receptive to the Gevalia coffee served by the hostess of the meetings than anything else!

What I remember most about the content of the draft I viewed was the position that could be distilled as follows: "Men can follow Jesus, but women can be like Mary." Oh no no no! Be the "handmaid" of the Lord? I don't think so. I was raised and educated in the 1970's and 80's. We're nobody's "handmaids" any more.

Both my grandmothers had a great devotion to the Blessed Mother. Both of them prayed the Rosary daily. One of my grandmothers had a picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Help in her kitchen. And I think they knew something that I didn't understand until much later.

There is no disgrace in being like Mary. Actually, it's a high goal to stive for. And since my vocation now is "wife, mother and Secular Franciscan," how can I strive for anything else?

This morning I read a fascinating treatment of this idea. Here's one part (but do read the rest!):
the idea of identifying ourselves with Mary, modeling ourselves on her,
is an old one. Christ Himself invites all of us – male or female - to
be His mother. He says “My mother and my brothers are those who hear
the word of God and keep it,”(Luke 8:21) and no one heard the Word of
God and kept it in quite the way she did.

Via Ramblings of a GOP Soccer Mom.

Spooky.

I took this "Find Your Mothering Style" quiz just now. Here are the results:

Your type is: istj —The “Responsibility” Mother

“I have a serious love affair with to-do lists. I could sit for hours reading, organizing, and rearranging my weekly calendar.”

* The ISTJ mother has a highly developed sense of responsibility: for work, home, family ... particularly her children. Whether she’s overseeing daily baths or insisting on a 10 p.m. curfew, her efforts are largely focused on providing her children with order and routine. She wants them, regardless of age, to be able to count on her and the structure she provides.
* In carrying out her commitment to her responsibilities, the ISTJ mother is organized, industrious, and detail-oriented. Because her focus is the day-to-day realities of life, her children are likely to feel secure and well provided for.
* The ISTJ mother also sets a good example and provides her children with practical guidance on being a productive, responsible individual. Still, with all her seriousness, she may delight family members with her quick wit and observations about the details of life.

The spooky part is the quote--since right here on my desk next to me is my planner and monthly menu--which I'm rearranging.

H/T to Happy Catholic for the link to the quiz.

A Milestone Approaches

Doing the laundry today brought it home to me: in just two more school days, Big Brother will no longer be an elementary-school student.

There won't be any more light-blue "St. Peter's School" golf shirts on my clothesline; no more blue chinos in the wash. After nine straight years of wearing blue chinos to school every day, he'll be trading them in for gray at high school next year. I've washed my last blue uniform for my son.

The last time he graduated was from kindergarten. Middle Sister was just over 2, and she "crashed" the ceremony--lining up in the middle of the kindergarten children for her chance at a mimeographed diploma, and holding up the works when the principal wouldn't give her a piece of paper. Big Brother's friends let her in line, because she had kind of been adopted as "younger sister to the whole class."

Kindergarten diplomas are nice; from here on in, it starts to count for real.

Where does he pick these things up?

This morning while Little Brother and I were on our way to the store, a car making an illegal turn cut me off at an intersection.

Little Brother's comment: "That was cheap."

And in totally unrelated matters, can anyone tell me why I found a tennis ball in the bathroom just now?

Tommie of the Year

Faithmouse has a great cartoon today on the graduation speech issue.



He's also got more links to blogs addressing the subject. Click on the link above OR on the cartoon to get there.