Summer Reading

Boy, it would be cool to have nothing at all to do all summer long but read.  I'd go for that in a heartbeat.  I have been reading (every chance I get) and I've jumped back on the Goodreads bandwagon to track my books.

Two of my kids have summer-reading assignments.  Middle Sister's school has a "One Book, One School" policy where students, faculty and staff all read the same book for the summer.  This year it's The Hunger Games.  While at first I thought the school was selling out by choosing a popular book like that, I've changed my tune; I read the book (and the rest of the series) and there is a LOT in there that high-school students can discuss and analyze--and not just in English class.

Little Brother is required to read two books.  One, A Dog's Life, is required, and he has a generous list of others from which he must choose one more.  He's worked his way through most of that list (Encyclopedia Brown, anything from Dan Gutman's "Baseball Card" series, and a few others) but he steadfastly refuses to touch one of the books:  Charlotte's Web.

I'd almost let him take a pass on that if he'd said that it's a girls' book.  But he has not used that as an excuse.  "It's too big" doesn't fly with me, since last summer he read all the Harry Potter books.  Then he tried, "It's a children's book!"

"Yes, and you're a children," I retorted, using grammatical incorrectness to make a point.

Since he's in the middle of A Dog's Life, I asked him how that one was going.  He said that so far it's a sad story, and launched into a long tale about dogs being left by the side of the road by "one of the wives in the couple," which led Big Brother to muse that this is really a book about Mormons.

The Agony and the Dentistry

Want to really see me go over the edge? Send me to the dentist. It's definitely a Near Occasion of Anxiety for me.

I have cried at the dentist's before, when I was told just how much work had to be done. I think this was either shortly before or shortly after Little Brother was born. I remember being so upset that day that the dentist decided not to start the work then, because I was just barely keeping it together.

The past couple of years, I have avoided the dentist. I have neglected my own dental health as well as my children's, because none of us liked the dentist we were seeing (what did it for me: she asked if all my children were "from the same marriage.") And then Middle Sister chipped a tooth and I had a loose crown, so we went to a new-to-us dentist on Wednesday.

I was holding it together well, I thought, even though Middle Sister took every opportunity to light into me for not keeping up on her dental care. I listened to him explain that I would need a mouth guard because I grind my teeth, and that he didn't like the looks of the crown; it would come out again, he said, if I didn't take care of the grinding. I stayed calm. I took the news like an adult and figured I'd just deal with it.

I did not expect to lose that crown 3 days later while eating fajitas. I'm just glad it happened in my own home. But now I look like a hockey player (it's a canine tooth), and I can't get an appointment until Thursday to fix this.

Lovely.

I have 3 more days to wig out, and I'm doing just that, thankyouverymuch. I really wish that I had just insisted on getting all my teeth pulled out on that day years ago when I broke down in the dentist's office and had to be sent home.

Is there Novocaine that works on the emotions? Because I need some.

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Talking Tech (and Text) at CatholicMom.com

Come on over to CatholicMom.com and visit me in the Tech Talk section!  This week I'm talking about why text messages and teenagers can be a GOOD combination!

Hoarders, the Digital Edition

I'm a digital packrat of the most incurable kind.  That whole "I might need this someday" thing rears its ugly head; I still have 5 1/4" floppy disks with my college senior thesis on them.  Not that I have any software that can access the files, and it's been at least 5 years since there was a computer in this house that accommodated ANY floppy disks, but I've got those disks...

I use gmail for most of my email, but I have it forwarded through some complicated electronic system or other so I can read it in Outlook on my computer.  Therefore, I never go to gmail's site unless I need to check the spam folder for something that was misfiled.

I had 67,000 messages in my gmail inbox yesterday.  Years and years and years of messages.  And I deleted them all.

And it didn't kill me or cause bad things to happen to my family. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

But I'm still not ready to dump those floppy disks.

Finding Some Silence

Being an introvert, I need some quiet time on a regular basis to recharge my batteries.  My kids don't know from quiet.  My younger two are so extroverted that they practically have others orbiting them on a regular basis.  Little Brother, in particular, needs near-constant company.  And when his friends are here and it's quiet, that's usually not a good thing either.

Between the radio (loud enough to be heard throughout the house), the TV (at a competing decibel level) and the general kid chatter--or bickering--I feel like I'm being assaulted by noise constantly.

I'm not getting to daily Mass like I'd like to (and like I do on average of 4 days a week during the school year), and that doesn't help.  It's hard to listen to my favorite radio show, The Catholics Next Door, because I don't want to add one more sound source to the sensory overload I'm experiencing.  It's like the lyrics from that Harry Nilsson song, "Everybody's Talkin' at Me."

And when everyone's outside, I relish the silence for as long as I can get it.

At Catholicmom.com, Sarah Reinhard brought up the topic of summer parenting.  I mentioned in the comments that with my desk in the middle of the house, in the living room, I run into a lot of sound overload (and a lot of interruptions.)  I've been contemplating a way to find some space elsewhere in the house where I can work in quiet.

This afternoon, I got it all figured out and Middle Sister did the heavy moving.  I've got a bookcase full of books emptied out all over the bed, so I have to get those put away, but there's a small desk in my room near a window that has a backyard view.  It's not going to be my primary work space.  But when things get Just Too Loud here in the heart of my home, it's good to know that I've got a spot where I can (temporarily) retreat.

I can run, but I can't hide.  I can't stay up there all day, tempting though it may be.  That won't do my family any good.  Besides, I'm not so sure I want to be working in the same room where I sleep.  We'll see how it goes.  If nothing else, I'll have sorted through all these books--and that's not a bad thing either.

Guess What!

I totally forgot to talk about this, and I really should have said something TWO WEEKS AGO when it first happened, but I am one of a bunch of new contributors to the "Tech Talk" daily feature at CatholicMom.com!  (How cool is THAT?) 


I'll be writing every other Tuesday about techie topics that are near and dear to my heart as a Catholic, a mom, a Secular Franciscan, a parent of teenagers...


I never considered myself a "Techie," though I suppose the signs were all there.  My younger brother got a computer when I was in high school (a Radio Shack TRS-80, and if you're old enough to know what that is, you're close to my age).  I used that computer as much as he did, learning to write BASIC programs that would print my name 50 times and other useful things like that.  Senior year, I suffered through a half-year of trigonometry so I could enjoy a half-year computer class.  Never popular, I suddenly found myself in demand as students teamed up to work on projects and I was one of the few who knew how to make a computer print my name 50 times.


There wasn't much wiggle room in college for me to take electives, but I took Intro to BASIC as my math requirement (more making computers print my name 50 times) and found room for a one-credit course on computer applications in education.


After two years of teaching, my career path took a turn for the educational-software industry, where I was paid to break software and tell non-English-speaking programmers what I did to break it so they could make the software student-proof.  (I rocked at that job.)  Eventually I freelanced for that company as a software author, writing lesson "scripts."


Down the road, I learned about Internet message boards, blogging, Facebook, Twitter and more.  My husband (who's been a computer programmer since 1995) has kept me in gadgets starting with my very first Palm PDA up through a Kindle, iPad and iPhone.


I enjoy using technology in a variety of ways and look forward to sharing my favorite apps, websites and more, every other Tuesday at CatholicMom.com.  I also look forward to reading what the rest of the "Tech Talk" team shares, and am extremely grateful for this opportunity.


Today's feature is Digital Prayer, in which I talk about the apps you can use to pray the Liturgy of the Hours.

Quite a Ride

So I need a nickname for the gang of teenagers that hangs around my house.  The little guys are the Street Urchins.  The sixteen-year-olds?  What do I call them?

It's been a rather difficult week in Teenage World.  Parenting teenagers definitely resembles a roller-coaster ride.  You're strapped in for the duration (7 years, give or take time for those rocky pre- and post-adolescent stages).  There are the ups and downs, twists and turns, and occasional spins that turn you upside down.

In the past week, we have experienced

• curfew battles
• playing one parent off another
• sulking
• plenty of eye-rolling, stomping up the stairs and slamming of the bedroom door
• The Silent Treatment
• and an ill-fated trip to the mall.

They've got nothing to do and way too much time to do nothing in. The bunch of them went job-hunting--together--after swimming at my house yesterday.  I'm not sure that the best way to look for a job is to show up as a Six-Pack at the pizzeria or Edible Arrangements with wet hair, wearing short shorts and flip-flops.  I asked the kids if any potential employer had wondered if he was expected to hire the whole crew.  (They didn't get why I thought that was funny, or even worth wondering about).

But we've also got a teenager who dissuades her younger brother from styling his hair like Eddie Munster, who "takes" me grocery shopping so she can do all the heavy lifting, pushing and loading that I can't do, who takes 3 AM phone calls from friends in despair over a family member's bad health and questioning the existence and benevolence of God.  While I'm not thrilled over a 3 AM phone call, I am so gratified to know that when her friends have crises like that, they turn to her.  That says a whole lot about my daughter, right there.

I've got to take the bad with the good here.  A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.  Ultimately, I think I've got a good kid, and maybe her friends are good kids too, but I don't know them well enough to really determine that.

Today is the feast of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, patron of teenagers.  And they need his intercession and inspiration more than ever.  So today, I prayed for that bunch of teenagers (and they still need a nickname).  And I'm on my way to the supermarket, driven by my very own teenager, to stock the fridge with sodas so her friends will find something cold to drink when they show up later.

image credit

Part of That World

The Little Mermaid was Middle Sister's favorite movie when she was around 3 or 4.  I don't think I've seen, heard or thought about that movie in at least 10 years.

But she borrowed it from a friend and watched it today as a break from a marathon final-exam cramming session.  And really, some of its messages gave me pause.

I've got a beautiful 16-year-old daughter who's strong and strong-willed, who has a bit of a rebellious streak and is definitely a risk-taker.  In other words, I'm raising Ariel.

Does my Ariel think the grass is greener on the other side of some fence?  Does she wish that she were somehow different--different in a way that denies a part of her true self--so that she could fit into a world that is not hers?  Does she think that her life wouldn't be complete unless she fit into that world?  Would she be willing to make a Faustian bargain to get there?

Is this movie's lesson any different from the one we learn in Grease?  Boy is attracted to girl, but she's not good enough to keep "as is."  She has to change so they can be together.

Maybe that's what I like about the movie Legally Blonde (silly though it may be.)  In that one, the girl changes because she thinks it will help her get her boyfriend back.  By the time he comes around, though, she discovers that he's not the man she thought he was--and she decides not to let him get in the way of her goals.

I want my daughter to know that she doesn't have to be Ariel, or Sandy, or even Elle Woods.  I want her to discover how wonderful she is, just because she is Middle Sister.  I want her to discover and develop her unique talents, to use her strength to help others, to love her life.

When In Doubt, Make It Up

My Kindle was on the table, in screen-saver mode.  Many of the screen-saver images feature famous authors.

"Anne Ghoul-berg!"  Little Brother exclaimed when he saw the picture on the screen.

"Who?"  I said, picking up the Kindle.  "This is Agatha Christie."

"Oh!  I thought it was Anne Ghoul-berg," he explained.

"Who's Anne Ghoul-berg?  Where did you hear of her?"

"In my mind," he replied proudly (I should have known).

I switched on the Kindle and resumed reading my book.  After a few quiet moments, Little Brother inquired, "Is there an Anne Ghoul-berg?"

The Lost Boys

What IS it with the kids on this block?

There are four boys on my street who are the same age as Little Brother.  I call them the Street Urchins.  They wind up here a lot, perhaps because I'm the one who lets them in.

They know that if they play at my house, they've got to play by my rules.  Street Urchins who drop the f-bomb in my family room get sent home.  That's me, the Mean Mommy.

This morning, I mentioned to TheDad that last night one of the boys' moms had come here looking for him about an hour after his sisters picked him up.  That's when he told me that he'd heard there were marital problems in that household, and this boy might be moving soon.

One of the other boys lives with his mom and older siblings.  His parents have been on-and-off separated for several years now.  His dad, though, stays involved and is a Cub Scout leader.

I don't really know much about the new kid on the block, other than the fact that his parents just opened their second pizzeria.  He seems to be on his own quite a bit.

And then there's Adventure Boy, who (like his 3 older siblings) is being raised by his grandparents though his mom lives across town.  Sometimes he goes there.  Sometimes he spends a few hours with his dad, and his grandmother reports that the custody issues aren't pretty.  He's been left to his own devices since he was a preschooler.

A week or so ago, two of these boys knocked on my door at 8:20 on a school night, looking to play with Little Brother.  Ten minutes.  That's all I gave them.  Who lets their kids out at 8:20 on a school night?  Who lets their kids disappear after school, never looking for them until they have a baseball game or soccer practice?  Who doesn't call their kids home until after 8 (if then)--kids who have been out since 4 or earlier, who haven't been fed dinner, who haven't been nagged about homework?

Sometimes I think I should stop calling them the Street Urchins and refer to them as the Lost Boys.

I've ranted about these kids again and again and again.  I resent being Mommy to the whole block.  This isn't what I signed up for.

After yesterday's Cheese Ball Debacle, in which two of the Street Urchins thought it would be fun to toss Utz cheese balls into each other's mouths, and then pulverized the ones that missed--all over my back porch--I was more than a little bit hot under the collar.  They come here, make a mess, help themselves to snacks and drinks, make a mess, kick soccer balls at my pool filter and front door, make a mess, and (apparently) never have to go home.  And I resent that.  A lot.

I plan to come down hard on the Street Urchins next time they show up, about the cheese balls.  That is disrespectful to me and to my home, and wasteful of food.  If I'd found the mess before they left, they would have been the ones out on the porch with the ShopVac.  Instead, it was Little Brother.

But after TheDad mentioned that yet another Street Urchin is dealing with problems at home, my heart melted just a little bit.  These kids need what they're not getting at home, I realized.  None of them is in a situation of his own making.

I was wondering, the other day, if refusing to buy Johnson's Baby Shampoo and Starbucks lattes really does any good.  I'm not convinced that it does.  And while I'm happy to be able to afford the big box of diapers every month that I donate to a local crisis-pregnancy center (and I will continue to do so), that effort is a drop in the bucket.

What I need to do is give where it really counts, and that means giving until it hurts.  That means putting up with the Street Urchins and continuing to remind them that baseballs are not Pool Toys and sending them home when the streetlights go on.  It means welcoming them, but setting (and sticking to) limits.  It means praying for them.  It means doing the right thing even when I don't feel like it; even when I'm cranky and resentful and feeling put-upon.  Maybe especially then.

Honestly, this may be the most pro-life thing I can do right now.

In your charity today, please offer a prayer (or several) for the Lost Boys.

Fashion Emergency, Little Brother Style

Little Brother (pointing at the shirt he's wearing now, which is, not surprisingly, dirty):  Mom, can you wash this shirt tonight?
Me:  No.  I don't do laundry on Sundays.
(commence pouting by Little Brother)
Big Brother:  What's his problem?
Me:  He just remembered he has a dress-down day tomorrow and he wants to wear THAT SHIRT that he wears all the time.
Big Brother:  Did you wear that to the last dress-down day?  Then find something else to wear tomorrow.
Little Brother:  No!
Middle Sister:  You can't wear that if you wore it last time.  Never repeat an outfit!
TheDad:  Boys don't wear "outfits."

Boycott Burnout?

This afternoon I was listening to my favorite radio show, The Catholics Next Door, on Sirius XM (totally worth the price of the subscription just for this show, by the way!)  Hosts Greg and Jennifer Willits were discussing boycotts.  I wish they'd allotted more time to this issue.

That topic has been on my mind quite a bit lately.  For about the past 20 years, my family has participated in the Life Decisions International boycott of companies that support Planned Parenthood.  That means no Levi's, no Johnson's Baby Shampoo, no Texaco gas--among so many other things.

And then there's the Dump Starbucks Campaign, triggered by their announcement that same-sex marriage is core to who they are and what they value as a company.  More recently, Target announced that proceeds from a line of Pride T-shirts would fund the Family Equality Council.

Now, I don't get Starbucks much; I don't like their coffee.  If I want a $4 fancy coffee, I'll go to Panera and get my latte there.  But Target is right around the corner and it's my go-to store for a lot of things, replacing Wal-Mart, which is farther away and which has boycott issues of its own regarding labor issues, Chinese suppliers and more.

Maybe I'm just wimping out because this is hitting too close to home.  But it's starting to feel like I won't have anywhere to shop if I support all these boycotts.

Do they do any good?  Do the companies really care if I (not a big spender anyway) spend what I do spend someplace else?  Does anybody care?  After all, the American Cancer Society has been linked to support of Planned Parenthood, yet my parish still participates in the local Relay for Life.

So, am I lazy?  Tired?  Wimpy?  Is the devil on my back?  Or do I need to find another way to make a difference?

No-Win

Last night before she went to bed, Middle Sister told me that she needed to wake up at 6 this morning. "I set my alarm, but come in and make sure I get up," she said. "Don't let me stay asleep. I HAVE to get up."

So at 6 this morning I knocked on her door and got a mumbled response. Opening it a crack, I reminded her that she wanted me to wake her at 6.

"I was up too late last night trying to get my mascara off," she replied sleepily.

"you told me to make sure you got up at 6," I said.

"No."

"You also told me not to take no for an answer."

"Well, I'm saying no," she shot back. At that point I figured that I'm going to lose either way, so I closed her door and went downstairs to enjoy my coffee before she gave me trouble for waking/not waking her--whichever she considered the greater offense at the time.

How's It Going?

I get asked that a lot.

I look like I'm perfectly fine, except during a hot flash (at least a dozen a day) when I more closely resemble a tomato.

As of last Wednesday, I am allowed behind the wheel.

That's where the trouble started.

When you tell someone like me that she can get back behind the wheel, she will probably go right back to her old tricks:  6 errands in one morning because 3 of them were "on the way."

I'm not doing anything I'm not allowed to do, but I seem to be doing too much of the stuff that I am allowed to do.

And therefore, even though I look perfectly fine on the outside, I'm exhausted by this point in the afternoon--even on a day when I don't do too much.

I think I was better off when I wasn't allowed to drive, because I was necessarily limited in things I could do by where I could do things.  Clearly I am way too much of a Type A personality to do recuperation well.

TheDad is awfully good about the fact that he called last night at 7:30 and asked me to have the kids turn on the pool filter, waking me up when the phone rang--and then I hung up the phone and completely forgot about the pool.  "You're still healing," he reminds me patiently.

I keep forgetting about that until I find myself trying to stay awake at 3 in the afternoon and know that the next 6 hours are going to be a struggle.

Because really, except for the scar, which is always covered by my clothing, I look perfectly fine on the outside.

You know what I'm learning?  You can't judge someone who is ambling across a parking lot, right in your path.  You can't assume that because they look perfectly fine on the outside, they're fine on the inside too.  You can't assume that walking doesn't hurt them or that they have the energy to walk faster than that.

I hope I remember that even when I do have the energy to walk faster.

Bite-Sized Prayers

In the past few weeks, my family was blessed by many friends who showed up here with dinner during my hospitalization and recovery at home.  I can't even express how wonderful it has been to be on the receiving end of a meal prepared and delivered with love.

And the kids are still raving about Sally's Magic Chicken--as well they should.  It was delicious.

Every time a casserole dish came through my front door, I made a silent promise to myself that I would repay the favor, or at the very least, pay it forward.  But I didn't expect that my first opportunity to do so would come quite so soon.

After yesterday's follow-up appointment with my surgeon, I've been cleared to drive (though it's still pretty uncomfortable to do that) and to increase activity gradually, except for heavy lifting.  I got back behind the wheel just in time to pick up a few ingredients for a dinner I'm making tonight for my friend Sally.

As I rolled up those turkey enchiladas, I prayed for Sally and her family.  I prayed for the soul of Sally's recently deceased mother.  And it occurred to me that when our friends made us lasagna, pot pie, spaghetti and meatballs, chicken with spinach and linguine, homemade mac & cheese, pot roast, turkey, antipasto and that Magic Chicken, they were probably praying too.  I know that the prayers and love that were stirred into those dinners helped with my healing.  And I hope that the prayers and love that I rolled into those enchiladas help to bring peace to Sally's heart and to her family in this difficult time.

Don't think for a minute that delivering a meal to a family during a difficult time is a silly gesture or, worse, an unwelcome intrusion.  I was guilty of thinking that--until folks did this wonderful service for us.  Now that I know how much it means, I've resolved never to hesitate to help someone out in this way.

After all, there's a prayer in every bite.

7 Quick Takes

So, it's been a whole week since I posted anything, and I saw Hallie's reminder about the Quick Takes and, well, why not?  Here's a look at the randomness of my world.

1.  I started back to "work" this week.  Since "work" for me means freelance writing, I am "working" from the comfort of my own couch.  I am thankful for laptops that allow me not to sit at a desk, because sitting in a straight chair is not comfortable yet.

2.  One of my freelance projects is a blog targeted to new parents.  Normally this project involves product spotlights and occasional recall announcements.  Yesterday I was asked to discuss the whole TIME magazine-attachment parenting debacle.

3.  I got some bread baked yesterday, because we were almost out of bread, and I didn't have time to walk down to 7-11 and get more.  Thanks to my Dough Machine, I made some at home.  Little Brother eats large quantities of toast every morning.  A double batch of Portuguese Easter Bread should do the trick.

4.  It's good to have some energy back, and there are some things I can do around the house now.  If someone gets me everything I need from the lower shelves, I can cook.  If someone carries the laundry to the basement and delivers the baskets of clean clothes, I can do the laundry, this ensuring that my yoga pants don't get put in the dryer and shrink to fit the 8-year-old neighbor.  I need those yoga pants right now!  I'm healing well on the outside and trying very hard to follow directions so I heal well on the inside too.

5.  Big Brother came home from college yesterday.  It's good to have him home.  Last night the Big Kids and I sat around eating ice cream, talking and laughing.  It was great.  But having him here is also good for my blood pressure; his school is in a not-so-great neighborhood of Philadelphia, so I often find myself obsessing over crime and accident reports on the news, google-mapping the address to see if it's anywhere near his dorm.  For the next 3 months, I don't have to do that.

6.  I've got a cookbook giveaway going on over at Mom's Fridge!  Check it out!

7.  Things I miss because I'm recovering:  daily Mass, helping out in the library at Little Brother's school, grocery shopping, track meets.  Things I don't miss:  driving, vacuuming, driving, mopping, driving, washing windows, and did I mention driving?  People have asked me if I'm getting stir-crazy because I can't go anyplace.  Honestly, no.  I can get out and walk; there's a Panera only about 1/4 mile away, so I can walk over there.  I'm sure I cancel out the "healthy" in the walk by bringing home a caramel latte, but I am powerless over the caramel latte.

Remember, the Quick Takes are being hosted at Betty Beguiles this week.  Why not link up?

Book Tour: Catholic Family Fun

It's an honor to be part of Sarah Reinhard's Catholic Family Fun Book Tour!  I was reading something else when this book arrived in the mail, but I dumped that in a hurry. You see, I've been a fan of Sarah's blog since she was mom to only one child (she has three now, like I do.) This book celebrates the fun we all want to have with our families and shows us how things like building a backyard obstacle course, eating breakfast for dinner, and singing camp songs are not only family fun, but Catholic family fun. 

What I like best about Catholic Family Fun is that you don't have to go all "Clark W. Griswold" on your family to incorporate the activities described in this book.  Just build it in; don't force it.

Activities in the book are apropriate for a wide range of ages and can be modified if you (like me) have a big age gap between the kids.  Age gaps mean ability differences and huge variations in interests, and that's an extra challenge when planning family activities.  With that in mind, the ideas in this book are labeled according to duration, cost and prep time.  The rest will vary, depending on how many children (and friends) are involved, and their ages.

Chapters in this book include such topics as silly things to do, story starters, crafts, food, outdoor fun, family field trips, saints, service and prayer.  There's a handy appendix at the back that shows you at a glance how much prep time, money, or run time is needed for each activity.  Of course, your mileage may vary there, given your particular family circumstances, but it's great to have a general idea.  Additional resources include a Facebook page and Catholic Family Fun website, which will be updated regularly with new activities and "extras" to coordinate with the book!

My only problem with this book?  It didn't come along until my youngest child turned 10!  I really could have used it when my Big Kids were little, but nooooooo.  Sarah is young enough that she could have been my Big Kids' babysitter.  For that matter, Sarah is young enough that I could have been her babysitter.  But we're peers in parenting now, and I have a huge respect for her.  Read her books or her blog and you'll find out why.

This is a book that will benefit parents, grandparents, teachers, catechists and friends.  Have fun together, and celebrate being Catholic all at the same time! 

Want your own copy?  Ask for it at your local Catholic bookstore, or visit the Catholic Family Fun website or Sarah's book page for purchasing information.  At $11.95, it's a family-friendly bargain!

I'm a stop on Sarah's Virtual Book Tour!  The only bad thing about the "virtual" part is that I don't get to meet her in person.  But read enough of her work, and you'll feel like you know her already.  If you're late to this Book Tour party, just use the link above to see all the reviews and interviews along the way.  I've found many wonderful "new-to-me" blogs thanks to this tour.

Disclaimer: I received a review copy of this book, but no other compensation, for my participation in this Book Tour. All opinions are mine.

Putting the "Anti" in the Antipasto

A whole lot of dinner showed up here yesterday, thanks to three wonderful friends.  Fortunately, it all arrived early in the day, with cooking instructions, so we didn't have to choose among three hot meals.

One meal came complete with antipasto.  I'm not sure how, but "antipasto" is a foreign concept to the males of this household.  The nature of the dish itself is as much a mystery to them as its pronunciation.

I swear, if someone calls it "ant-EYE-pasta" one more time, there might be violence committed.  I would not be convicted by a jury of my foodie peers--or my linguist ones, either.

Little Brother was a little leery of the idea of antipasto until I told him it was a big "ham-alami."  That's what he calls the ham-and-salami rollups that I sometimes make for his lunches.  When he came over to the table and saw the platter, he was sold.

Except for the Swiss cheese.  (How'd that get in there?)

In any event, it was all delicious and we're looking forward to the equally-delicious-looking main course, which is almost hot enough to eat.

The Media-Savvy Catholic Parent

As the mom of three children, ages 20, 16 and 10, I'm right in the thick of parenting digitally-active kids in an ever-more digitally-active age.  We consume media around here.  I'm probably the only one in the house who reads books anymore--and half the time, they're e-books.  The rest of the family stays informed through television, radio, and various new media.

In my house, you'll find computers, iPods, iPhones, iPads and a Kindle. You'll find video games and a Netflix subscription.  We've got satellite radio and satellite TV.  While I'm the only one who blogs, three of us tweet and four of us Facebook.  The ten-year-old wishes he could, but we think he's too young for that.

And in my house, we're Catholics.  The kids go to Catholic schools (and, in one case, a Catholic university.)  We attend Mass weekly and our children serve as musicians and altar servers.  Our reality includes grace before meals--even when friends come over to visit, my own life as a Secular Franciscan, and "prayers upstairs" with the 10-year-old before he goes to bed each night.

Books like Infinite Bandwith:  Encountering Christ in the Media are encouraging to me as a parent.  Author Eugene Gan discusses the digital realities that our children (whether young children or young adults) encounter each day without being heavy-handed.  Media of all sorts are a part of just about everyone's life, and Gan shows parents ways to use these media tools to help others learn about--and grow closer to--God.  Gan's book explains seven "media keys" to help people approach the use of media in a sensible, faith-filled way, so that the media we consume can nourish our faith and that we can use media to inspire the faith of others.

This review was written as part of The Catholic Company product reviewer program. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information. I received a review copy of this book, but no other compensation, for the purposes of this review.

Communion and Community

Last night I got out of the house for the first time in 8 days. It took me about that long before I was willing to get into a car again! But our once-a-month Saturday-night Mass gig was this weekend at the Big Church, which is only one mile away, so I figured I could do it.

Except for the homily, I stood for the entire Mass. Sitting is difficult. I can't sit gracefully or comfortably. I sit like a cellist who has just had her instrument stolen. And then, of course, there is the Wearing of the Yoga Pants-- just about any other pants are out of the question right now.

But in that church, the musicians are located in a spot where no one sees how you're dressed or that you're pacing around back there during the Creed. So it worked.

I paid for that one-mile car ride, but it was worth it--SO worth it. I paid for the singing, which works the abs more than you might realize. But what I received? Hugs, good wishes, smiles and inquiries about my health from friends, neighbors, fellow musicians, deacon and pastor. The grace of just being there at Mass. The gift of singing at Mass (I was not foolish enough to try to bring my guitar). And the Eucharist, the whole reason I needed to be there.

A friend and fellow Franciscan stopped by last week to bring me Communion. I treasure that. And I treasure yesterday's venture to church as well. These past couple of weeks, I have really been reminded of what it's all about: Communion and community. I am grateful--very grateful--for both.