outlook: rain

We're t-minus one week on the big yearly camping trip. Here's the week's forecast as it was this morning on almanac.com:





Now, on second inspection, it looks like this:





So, THAT'S not really an upgrade.
On our wedding day, it rained like it's been raining around here this weekend. Monsoon-ish. It rained the kind of rain where you look out the window and think to yourself "it is IMPOSSIBLE for rain to come down THIS HARD for THIS LONG!!!"
As for this weekend, all I want to do is lounge, and nap- not a lot of energy going on around here, and I don't mind a weekend like that every once in a while, but I do hope and pray it'll clear up for Thursday and next weekend. We've been rained on at Tanglewood, and it's SO not as fun as when it's nice out. I don't mind rainy camping but I surely prefer dry camping. Before our wedding everyone told us to hang our rosary beads out our windows, or put religious statues in the windows. I ended up with one really wet rosary. Rain rain go away already!!!

New Thinking

I've been thinking about this upcoming year at the parish, and we're doing faith formation planning, and I've come to this resolution that I think we should make, as a staff.
I think we should agree to assume the best about our parishioners. I think we should remove from our conversations that sound anything like this: "oh, they'll never come for that." "They will be confused by that." "The people don't want to work that hard." "That is too much to ask." "They will resent us for pushing too hard (or asking too much)."
I think the truth is closer to this: people in our parishes are seeking for something. They want to learn more about their faith. They want to grow closer to God. They want to help, and they appreciate being needed.
I believe that thinking this way about our people can make a huge difference in how we treat them, and that will make a difference in their response.
But hey, it's just a theory... we'll have to try it to know if it works...

I've got the beat

Have I ever mentioned that I have music stuck in my head all the time? Like, always-- constantly. Whenever I tell someone this, they inevitably ask me "oh yeeeeahhh? What song is in your head RIGHT NOW then?" So, in case that's what you're wondering, right now it is the obnoxious theme song to Radio Boston, which I just hate. (It's really only two notes, played on and on.) This is an example of songs that I really try to avoid, because it's one thing to have a good song stuck in here, and quite another to have an annoying one. The only cure I've found to having a song stuck is to listen to another song. Many times in the car I've asked Scott to turn the radio on so I can replace whatever is stuck in there (here).
Usually it is not a whole song but some fraction of one, often just one phrase, so things like radio jingles and tv ads fit that bill perfectly- even little bits of music like a doorbell ringing will lodge themselves in until I find something better (this part is tough to explain to people who ask me what is in my head RIGHT NOW because the answer sometimes is "doooo-doo!".
I heard a story on Radio Lab that in a roundabout way made connections between this state and epilepsy, believe it or not- they solicited techniques from their readers for making songs go away and one that I've played with is to just stop the song on one note and let that one note go on and on and on until it all goes away. This doesn't really work for me, but it does give my brain a bit of a break.
It is not, as you might be wondering, agonizing. Right now I have the "Magic 106.7" song-let in my head, because I have been poking at our radio's buttons trying to find a song that I won't mind having on an endless loop in here- which reminds me, thank GOD for satellite radio- no commercial jingles at ALL and there's always a good song on somewhere. Regular radio is all jingles and not much music. I've had songs in my head since I was a very little girl- I remember being outside the Cone school and realizing that I'd had something stuck in for a long time- this might have been my first realization of it.
The only time it's been a problem has been in high-stress points of my life, like when I started at my former parish (should have been a sign of the trouble to come!). I had trouble sleeping because I could NOT get a particular Mariah Carey song out of my head. I don't remember what song, and no, I am not a Mariah fan- it just came in my head at the wrong time and refused to leave. I had nasty fever-like dreams for days where I was trying to get that music to stop or was being forced to listen to it or something like that. My stress really made that song stick and stick hard. I work hard not to get that stressed now.
So, here's to a musical life. Maybe I'll put it to work for me...

Oh yeah, I've got it.

PMS that is. Wanna know how I know I have PMS? Because, among other symptoms, I finally called to schedule a hair appointment for myself and the person who answered the phone at the salon told me that my hairdresser has left. Months ago, she left. Since then I have felt wrecked! I'm so bummed out that my hairdresser just up and left me behind, the one who knows what stupid rods to use for my stupid perm. And I'm at a loss- now to whom shall I go? I love Laura's perms but I don't want to go to Waltham for mine. I know people who know people who ARE hairdressers, but you know, that's tricky! Once you go to someone you know, you can NEVER LEAVE. You'll run into them at someone's birthday party and they'll look at your hair and know how long it's been since you visited their shop and they'll know.
Anyway, my crazy reaction to this news and the way it's making my day a gloom-fest, that's how I know I have PMS. Oh, and the simultaneous urges I have a) to assert myself and get my damned point across and B) to throw my hands in the air, exasperated, and say "you know what? Whatever."
Also I have a low-grade fever that Motrin is not touching.
I don't complain about cramps and headaches, I accept them as penance for not wanting to bear children. But PMS-nastiness, well, that's just a punishment on everyone. Sorry, everyone. But then again, you know what? Whatever.

substance abuser

Last night we went out for a big fancy dinner to celebrate our 8th anniversary (we had a big gift certificate!). I threw all caution to the wind and went ca-ray-zee. No, not drinking-crazy...
I have been eating low carb since Ash Wednesday, or thereabouts, and have really liked it (see the bacon-flavored entries here on this blog). But every once in a while I do go a little carb-a-palooza. Last night was an extreme one. I had risotto (oh it was soooo good) and BREAD! White bread! I ate all the croutons in my caesar salad, and then... I had dessert. Creme Brulee. Oh God.
It was all wonderful, but it caused a serious shock to my system! When we got home, I was so sleepy I felt like I'd been drugged. I fell asleep on the couch by 9:30 and then finally dragged myself to bed. I could not believe how badly I was affected by that food. It made quite a difference in how I was feeling.
So, now I know even better how good I feel when I limit carbohydrates- after a meal like that I feel like I need some detox and was happy to get back to my now-normal eating habits. Somebody pass me the bacon!

Tortoise and Hare

The other day after I had finished my first glass of iced coffee, I was making breakfast for Scott, and he asked if I wanted some more. I said "sure, I'll have some." He filled my glass to the brim. To Scott, "some" can very easily mean "all." It got me thinking about the two of us, and how different we are in some ways.
Scott is impetuous. He gets an idea in his head and just goes ahead and starts. I am more inclined to wait and let things develop, make sure things are set, get things ready. He just goes. When I need a new car (or anything new, really) I do research, comparison shop, check the finances, read customer reviews... he gets to shopping. When I get in a pool, it is an inch at a time. He dives.
Well, you get the picture.
Over the years (8 to be exact, this Tuesday) we have learned a lot from each other. He has learned how to slow himself down, and doesn't spend like he used to. On the other hand, I have learned to be a bit more free. It's only in the last year that I realized that I could indeed buy two cartons of milk, or two dozen eggs, or whatever, rather than buying one, using it up, and then going to the store for more. I don't know why it feels so decadent to me to buy two cartons of milk, but there you go.
We are indeed good for each other. He can get me up and moving and I can slow him down. The other day he said to me "we are a good team." He's right.

A Moment of Silence, please!!

Today as we tooled around the North Shore on a daytrip celebrating Memorial Day, we were listening to the Red Sox game on the radio. At 3:00 they announced that they would have a moment of silence for our veterans, and then immediately started playing a song. That inspired us to write our own song. Here are the lyrics, you'll have to insert your own tune:

This is a song about a moment of silence, a moment of silence, a moment of silence!
A moment of silence is what we'd be having, if we weren't singing this song!

I think we have come up with something truly moving that will improve all moments of silence from now and on through history. Everybody sing!

I am Catholic.

I grew up in southern-central Maine, the youngest of 5 children in a solidly Catholic family. We went to Mass every Sunday (I tell people now that we could only miss Mass if we were vomiting or bleeding, and could produce evidence of such) and Holy Day, went to the parish suppers, belonged to the church's credit union, volunteered for the Christmas fair, and of course attended CCD and then Youth Group. I remember not knowing what religion most of my friends were, unless they attended my church, or unless they were Baptist, because the Baptist ones were always talking about being Christians.
While we were a devotional family, doing our Advent wreath every Saturday night before Christmas and eschewing meat on Fridays of Lent, I would say we weren't a particularly spiritual family. Our family prayer life was basically the recitation of Grace before dinner, and that was said at top-speed- I remember realizing that there were in fact actual words to that prayer- up until then it had been sort of a blur of syllables, like the ellemenopy section in the alphabet. But never did I hear anyone offer to pray for another, for instance. I remember one night my Grandmother was visiting, sleeping in the other bed in my room, and in the dark I told her I couldn't sleep. She said "why don't you say your Rosary?" and was horrified to learn that I didn't know how. Of all the many sets of Rosary beads I have now, the one given me by my Grandmother, allegedly blessed by a pope, is the one that I most treasure.
It was, then, not through my family directly but because we Talbots were habitual church-goers that I found my real faith. As teenagers, we were invited to attend retreats, and I followed my siblings first to a 9/10 grade retreat called Gift, then to a 11/12th grade retreat called Search. I think God opened my heart through Gift and then filled it to overflowing at Search. At Gift, I learned that I have gifts and that God loves me. At Search, I learned that God has a plan for me, and it was here and through other transformational Catholic activities that I received what I was sure was a calling from God, to Youth Ministry.
Now I have been in professional ministry in the Catholic Church for 14 years, and never would have guessed when I started that I would be where I am now, working primarily with adults and studying for a Master's Degree in Religious Education. The Church, the local Church, has changed so much, and I have grown with it and because of it- often painfully.
I was so stunned at the sex-abuse scandal. I remember at a Youth Ministers' meeting just after it had started in earnest, praying against the persecutors who were accusing the Church of horrible things. Now I know that they weren't so much persecutors as liberators. I remember pulling my car over to the side of the road more than once when hearing the news was more than I could bear and drive safely at the same time. I remember reading reports in the paper, and getting phone calls, about priests I knew. I remember the very real fear in not knowing who to trust, who to believe. It was a time when I realized that anyone could use the awesome power of fear- any call to any rectory with any accusation (no confirming evidence was necessary) could have a priest removed from his parish overnight, and exposed in the daily papers the next day.
It was a frightening time for me, who had devoted my whole life to serving the young of a Church which had spent many years abusing them. Now, my faith and my calling were in question. Suddenly teachings that I had disagreed with out-of-hand, teachings that I had overlooked as simply wrong, nonsense- teachings that I had avoided passing on, even in my ministry where I was paid to do so, became more important to really look at. I wondered if my credibility as a minister of God was in question if I continued to work for this Church, so full of evil.
At one point, I visited the Episcopalian Priest in town, who acknowledged my crisis of faith and gave me some guidance. A few days later, my lawn was struck my lightning. I was away from home at the time, so I didn't consider it altogether a direct message from God, but still... I think I'd probably be a pretty great pastor, and I think the Church would probably be improved by female leaders- at the same time I know that the local Church runs greatly on the backs and hands and feet of women, in partnership (or in direct opposition to) male leaders. It doesn't feel like a calling I've been given, at least not now. I am in a good place, a place where my gifts and talents are being used to glorify God, right now. I haven't always been.
My faith has been saved over and over again. At one point I heard a speaker at a Youth Ministry conference speak about those who are called to be Prophets. It was like hearing a diagnosis of a long-suffered, unnamed disease. He said that prophets can't help but be prophets- but that they should remember that historically, prophets are ultimately either listened to, or killed. I began to understand why I seemed constantly to be butting heads with church leaders who refused to focus on the Mission, who cared more about their own glorification than the glory of God, who worried more about their financial audits than the care of the poor, the young, the old, the needy in their parishes.
Now I work at a parish that is everything I've dreamed of- the pastor is intelligent, engaged, excited and happy to be a priest. He says and believes words like "conversion," "evangelization," and "discipleship." He reads articles and books about ministry, he knows his theology, he cares about people, he loves being Catholic, he does not live in fear of the Hierarchy, even as he respects it. These, I am sure, sound like no-brainer qualifications for a pastor, but in fact they are quite rare.
The staff at this parish is engaged, knows the people of the Church, is constantly trying to grow in personal faith and in professionalism. We have fun together, we respect each other. We laugh a lot. The people here are gracious and faith-filled. They are friendly and welcoming. They want to know more. They show up. They praise and give feedback all the time. It is a holy place, and I know, a spiritual retreat that God has sent me to, in order to keep me sane and to keep me Catholic. So far, so good- but I know this can't, being the Catholic Church, last forever. Someday I will be sent back out into battle. I am trying to Be Here Now.
My husband has the most pure and child-like (but not childish) faith of anyone I've ever known. He quiets my panicked fears with surety. He digs in to discuss our doubts (he has them too), he prays for me, he prays grace conspicuously at restaurant tables, he reminded me that God was indeed here with us, during our lowest points. Our marriage is truly a spiritual union, and a Catholic one at that.
I remember going to Rome for World Youth Day in 2000. I marveled at the architecture, the Catholicism pulsing through the air, the bells and smells, all so exotic but so personal and familiar to me. I remember thinking "ahhh- so here is my ethnicity!" I grew up with very little palpable connection to what I call "all the white peoples of the world" with whom I share ancestors. No traditional ethnic foods, songs, dress for me. But in Rome I found my true ancestry. I am Catholic.

Peace be with you. There, I said it.

Today was the day of prayer for religious-ed types at a beautiful convent/nursing home in Ipswich, sponsored by the Archdiocese. Last year's was great, with a wonderful speaker who spoke to us like the professional professionals that we are. Oh and it was at Gonzaga retreat house in Gloucester, overlooking a rocky ocean shore. Ahhh.
This year's was, as I said, at a lovely convent/nursing home, with lush green lawns and ticks, we were warned, and turkeys that would attack us, I guess. I dunno. The speaker, too, was lovely, but not life-altering. Too bad, really.
ANYWAY, the point of my story is that our staff was there, our wonderful wonderful staff, and a bunch of other people. My former staff was there from my former parish, including so many great and wonderful people who had made my time there good. But also, my replacement was there, and the person who had been my supervisor... I felt my blood pressure spike a bit when she walked in, old resentments and un-expressed tongue lashings fresh again. It was, like I've written before here, like being at an ex-boyfriend's family wedding. SO good to see some people, so tense seeing that ex.
But then we went to Mass, and I ended up next to her. I knew what was coming.
I read (and have taught, so I hope it's true) that the sign of peace at Mass is really about making peace before Communion. It's to remind us of this scripture, and so, when we turn and shake hands or meet eyes with the people around us, we're supposed to be making sure we've forgiven and have been forgiven by the other members of our faith community.
And there I was, next to the woman who really did not help me in my time of need- who, I felt, had betrayed me, who I just really don't like, darnit. I've prayed about it, worked on it, let it go and caught it back again.
I pulled myself together and did a quick examination of conscience, and worked myself up to a stage of forgiveness that would allow me to shake hands with her, look her in the eye and wish her peace. Because, you know, I do wish her peace. I think one reason she was was so disappointing to me as a supervisor and a co-worker is related to her having a real lack of courage, and that must be a pretty un-peaceful way to be. Think that's good enough for Communion?

KITTY HEAD!!!

I know, I know, I go from righteous indignation to cat-ridiculousness. Such is the blog. 

Anyone else have a problem with this?

Check it out, give it a listen, and then comment- D. Scott Miller's planning to forward our thoughts on to the Catholic Channel. Hey, maybe you think it's a riot, I don't know- but let your opinions be heard!
http://www.dscottmiller.com/2009/05/14/mr-youth-minister-guy

Shepherd Sunday thoughts, only a few weeks late...

I've heard a lot of different versions of Good Shepherd Sunday homilies, and most of them talk about how stupid sheep are (not the best place to start when you're preaching TO the sheep! Still, it's true, my shepherd-friend will concur, I believe. Sandi's dad used to say something like "the IQ of one sheep is 10. The combined IQ of 10 sheep is 5." This I have found also to be applicable to middle school boys. But I digress). 

But if I were going to do a homily on Shepherd Sunday, I would tell this story:

I grew up in Maine, yes, and did have a dear friend in high school who raised and showed sheep. I was lucky to be invited to travel and help her with some shows, and had a blast doing it. We wore tan pants (so as to make the sheep look whiter) and blucher mocs (so as to easily scrape the poop off the smooth soles) and tickled the sheep's bellies (so as to make them stand up straighter (but not too much, or they'd hunch, just like we would with too much tickling). I learned a lot. 

One thing I learned was a great model of community and youth ministry. We were at the Big E fairgrounds in Springfield MA, and between our turns we watched the Border Cheviots compete.  I remember the name because Sandi called them "Border Idiots." They are a bouncy breed, and if you want to know what the word "gambol" means, you can see it demonstrated by a Cheviot. 

At one point, one of the Cheviots got loose from its handler. Here is where I witnessed this beautiful image. As the sheep bounced around the pen, impossible to catch, I saw people rise from their seats all around the ring. People from all sides stood slowly, and began to step toward the bouncing sheep. Soon I could see that they were forming a ring around the bouncy devil, slowly closing in on her. Finally the circle closed in around the sheep and someone got ahold of her and returned her to her rightful spot. Satisfied, everyone else went back to their seats for the rest of the festivities. 

I have come to see that this was a great example for a church community. When that sheep was bouncing around, out of control, everyone was ready to help- the owner of the sheep didn't even have to ask, and no one demanded thanks. Everyone cared enough to do their part. Together, they did what one person, or a few people, could never do. And that circle of concern... well, that seems, still, so beautiful to me. Surrounding one in need with a circle of care is just what we should be doing for each other- and especially, I think, for the youngest of us, so often bounding and bouncing out of control. I dream of a church that responds this way. 

Do-Over

A week ago Saturday, my sisters came by to visit me. They pulled in the driveway in the early afternoon, and we spent some time together on the porch. It was a lovely day but I was feeling kinda groggy with a cold and was all wacky on cold medicine at the time... before long, we had to get ready for work and they headed toward home. It was about that time that I realized they'd come to SEE ME. For some reason I had thought they were out on a day trip and were swinging by because they were in the neighborhood- but they had really come down to see me, and Scott! I felt kind of embarrassed- I was grubby and not very effervescent, had no food to serve, and we were even out of toilet paper, for crying out loud!
So I invited them back down this past Saturday for a do-over. They graciously claimed to have been on cold medicine the week before as well, and brought some toilet paper just in case. We had a great dinner, soaked up some sun, laughed a lot, and ended the night around the fire pit. It was a really nice night, with just a bit of a nip, a great red sox game on the radio, good laughs, and no mosquitoes. Welcome, Summer (or at least Spring!) and here's to many many more nights by the fire, on the porch, with great friends.

Okay I should have specified this at the outset...

... but bananas are carb-o-crazy, so that's out. But I shall follow the potassium lead. Keep the tips coming! I feel a cramp coming on RIGHT NOW!

OUCH!!

AUGHH hit me with your home remedies, readers, I am getting LEG CRAMPS at night! I was ever-so rudely awakened this morning with my right calf frozen in place. YOW it's painful. I jumped out of bed and tried to put my foot down flat on the floor, which took HOURS, not really- only seconds, but LONG seconds. I've been noticing little minor cramps in my legs and feet lately but this was the mother of all cramps.
I remember that my Dad had a spell of bad leg cramps, and he was told to take Quinine. Apparently, though, that's not prescribed anymore because it causes some irregular heartbeats. I wouldn't be surprised if that cramp might have caused an irregular heartbeat or two. Maybe I'll just have to start drinking Gin and Tonics.
So, let me know if you have any great cures for leg cramps, and I will try them all out and get back to you! Thanks in advance from my poor little calf muscles!

low-carbing

The two best things about the low-carb diet are bleu cheese and bacon. I have gotten to be pretty adept at frying up bacon, and I've returned to my pioneering roots in cooking lots of things in just a touch of bacon grease. I know, I Know! It's bad for the arteries, but sheesh, it's soooooo good. Last week I steamed some broccoli and then sauteed it in said grease, and let me tell you: 1) it was AWESOME, and B)I lost a pound. Outside of Catholic educator's conferences, it has been really easy to do, this diet. And, I'm not going NO-carb, just LOW carb. The weird thing is, I eat WAY more vegetables now that I'm on this diet than I ever did before.
Summer brings ice cream and fruit, and temptation, and the hardest part of eating this way is the dismal beer situation... so who knows how long I'll keep this up? But so far, so good. Sooooo good.

notes from the loft- and an update

I'm writing from the choir loft above the chapel in the BC STM... below, a Franciscan is being given feedback on a homily he just gave- I guess I'm listening in on some kind of preaching seminar. It's neat up here, what little natural light is filtered through the stained glass windows and then through the latticework that separates the loft from the chapel ceiling.
I'm meeting with my advisor in a few minutes, I always worry that she thinks I'm a wicked drip. I have no evidence that she does, but somehow I always fear that I'll get in there and she'll say "you know, you are a pain in the ass. Why don't you pipe down in class once in a while?" I'll let you know if she says that this time.
The thing about grad school is that I feel, still, pretty out-of-practice, which I think is reasonable considering my last college class was 19 years ago. But also, back then, I wasn't a very conscientious student. So while I'm learning what I'm learning, I'm also kind of learning how to be a student.
I've decided to tell my advisor that I really only want to take wonderful classes from here on in. This semester I have one class that I love love love, and one that I'm just trying to get through. I don't want any more of those get-through classes, if that's at all possible. Is that too much to ask? We'll see, I guess. One thing I do remember from college is that I do much better in classes that I enjoy- so there's method to my madness.
** Update: she didn't seem like she thought I was a drip, so that's good news, and she even laughed at my jokes! And she gave me a whole list of must-have professors and courses to take before I graduate. She was VERY helpful. Now I just have to pick my courses for the Fall and hope for the best!

To California and back

After the whirlwind of Triduum and Easter, we had a quick break and then were off to California for the NCEA/NPCD conference in Anaheim. Our own religious education guru was to be presented with a national award, so it only followed that we should be there to witness the excitement!
We stayed at the Hilton and it was absolutely lovely. Only steps away from the convention center and a quick cab ride away from Downtown Disney. The beds were luscious and the pillows.... perfect. Great shower, great shampoo, and heck- a STARBUCKS in the lobby! Who could ask for anything more?
The conference was firmly okay, with most of the workshops directed at catholic school leaders. The parish ones were a little shallow, but I think most convention workshops are designed to be breathtaking to people who are newer to the field. I remember how amazing and mind-blowing the things I heard at conferences were when I heard them for the first time- so I know those lessons need to keep on being taught. I can go back to BC for my mind-blowing needs.
We went to a round-table workshop on Adolescent Catechesis and really enjoyed the discussion there- it was great to rub elbows with some of the big names in youth ministry and catechesis in general. The banquet to honor our DRE was lovely, and we had a lot of fun celebrating her.
As for California-ing, we got to do some walking and eating out, and visited Downtown Disney, where we ate out in a little sidewalk bar next to a big space heater.
Oh right, did I mention it was COLD out there? Okay, not Massachusetts cold, but colder than we thought it would be. In the low 60's. I had to buy a pashmina!
But all in all the trip was a great one, and we were happy to be there. We're happy to be home, too- and ready to go back to work at a bit lower level of intensity from Easter week.

Triduum and Easter tales

It's Easter Monday and even with some good rest yesterday, I still feel like I need some recovery from Holy Week, so while I should be cleaning the kitchen and packing for the trip and calling FIOS to complain about my missing email account, I am sitting on my beeehind watching Hee Haw.
It was the best Holy Week ever, in my humble opinion. Everything was well planned out and presented thoughtfully and with care. The crowds were bigger this year than last, so much so that we kept running out of worship aids. I loved every minute of it. After Mass an older Italian lady approached me and said "I have one remark." Oh? "The young girl serving Communion was wearing TONGS on her feet!" I said "oh yes, yes she was." She said "That's not appropriate." I said "oh, she's right over there, why don't you go and tell her?" This was not the response she was expecting. "Oh nooo, I don't want to embarrass her. You tell her." I said "ohh nooo, you tell her, she's here a lot, do tell her next time you see her. You definitely should." People have funny ideas about teenagers, including this urge to criticize them from afar. I had a pastor once who approached me (because I was the YM) to complain that the group of kids five feet away from him in the narthex were too loud. I said "go over there and tell them!" Sometimes people just need to be reminded to treat teenagers like the fellow parishioners that they are.
On Good Friday I sat on the tabernacle side of the church, so as to greet at that door and to get good pictures of the cantors who CHANTED the Passion. I've never heard it chanted before and it was really striking. I was noticing how many people genuflected before the tabernacle, which was empty, of course, and the doors were wide open. Catholic habits, you know? Silly, really, to bow to an empty tabernacle, but over and over people came in and did so. I love that our faith becomes so ingrained in us that we develop a kind of muscle memory.
On Holy Saturday, the Vigil was beautiful, and a comedy of errors- there were just a bunch of mistakes made, but our priests and deacon took everything in stride and we all had a lot of fun- who'd have thunk that the vigil could be so fun? At the same time, it was beautiful and spirit-filled.
I broke our tradition of sleeping in and lazing all day on Easter to go in for the 9:00AM Mass. We had a baptism planned, and the deacon had planned a big setting with the children's choir, where they sang throughout the baptism. The family of the little girl was amazed at the care and lengths we went to for their little girl (who was a 5 year old, sweet angelic little girl!) and it really felt like a great example of hospitality at work in evangelization. I knew from speaking with the Dad and Godparents in the preparation for the day that they were feeling called back to faith by the recent loss of the child's grandmother, and wanting their daughter to have a religion- and the look on the father's face throughout the Mass was one of amazement- it was clearly not how he remembered church! Everything went right in the preparation with this family and I hope it continues for them.
After the vigil, one of our priests said to me "you were smiling through the whole Mass! Why? Is it because it's Easter?" Well, yes. It's partly because I find so many things funny, like the ladies seated in front of us who were saying the prayers along with the ministers, straight out of her Magnificat. Co-presiding, if you will. Funny. But also, I was just feeling the joy of being a part of this community. On Sunday morning, I was amazed again by how many people I knew in the pews around me, by how much fun it is to be part of a community like this, by the palpable presence of the Spirit in this place.
Ahh, Easter is here, Christ is risen. Indeed, He is risen!

FIOS rant...

Over at the parish blog I'm praising God and loving the season and community, but here, I seethe.

Our friend PJ got FIOS a while back, and constantly brags about how great it is. So we finally got around to ordering it this week at our house. The day after it was installed, our email accounts (which were already through Verizon) stopped working. I tried a couple of times to contact Verizon/Fios, but didn't have the time to wade through the endless choices and muzak. (I know, I even said "AGENT" to get through to a human, which worked, except that the human I got to put me back on hold, more muzak.

Today Scott called and got through to a snotty "service" person who told us that actually, they don't really help people who use Macs (Really? Cause the tech who came out to install didn't mention that they weren't so hot on Macs when he saw ours in our house).

So, although when I try to access my email account through Verizon's website, and it says my account is suspended, she said it is not. What do I do to get my email now? Well, she didn't know, she saw both email accounts and so the problem must be with us.

Comcast, we miss you!!!

Happy Easter from our non-mystery bulb!

What does the FIOS button do?!?!?

Yesterday the FIOS guy came, and set us up in the living room, bedroom and kitchen. Now we have the craziest array of channels, including BYU TV and local channels from weird places, like Dedham. I spent my time in the morning trying to cram in as many of the DVR'ed shows I had on the Comcast box before I had to run off to work.
Here's a weird thing: in the morning, I put on my twitter page that we were getting FIOS. By the time I logged on again (around 4PM) I had a new follower, a Verizon FIOS guy (his twitter page says he's a policy blogger)! Very Big Brother, don't you think?
FIOS is as bitchen as they say, lots of channels, lots of fun features, and 40.00 cheaper than what we were paying Comcast, but now begins the adjustment period. I realized this morning that I need to program the new DVR box with all the shows (and there were a LOT) that we used to DVR before... why didn't I write a list? I have been able to figure out how to set recordings and series recordings, but haven't slogged through the guide enough to get them all back.
I had the old remote memorized and could flip around through it with ease, knew my stuff, knew what to do. I guess there's some kind of book around here somewhere to teach me how to use it, but I don't look forward to that... well, I guess I'll adjust.
Maybe I'm not that great at facing change...

an update from the mystery bulb!

Check out this beauty!!!

Scenes from Spring on the Hill

Today is almost a day off for Scott and me, and we had gleefully planned to go out in the yard and uncover the gardens. They're just starting to peek out from under the leaves that we use as mulch (read: don't rake) and I am ITCHING to get out there and play. But it's been raining all day long, and so we're stuck in the house. Too bad it's raining.
Tomorrow it's supposed to clear, some, hopefully just enough for us to get out there for a bit and see what we can find. In the meantime, I did a little cooking and thought I'd share a peek at the view from in here.
It's the last Lenten Friday at home and that means NO meat- next week it's no meat, too, and also it's a lot of nothing else, as we'll be fasting. But I couldn't look another egg in the yolk and wasn't in the mood for tuna, so I pulled some Maine shrimp out of the freezer and stir-fried it! YUM!
Before:


















After:














(It was even prettier in real life, and delicious.)
Our Grape Tomato plant has ONE BLOSSOM, and promises of more:





We planted this from seed last Summer but it didn't get very far, so I brought it in for the Winter- it's growing in leaps and bounds and I'm thrilled with the blossom!










And finally, my sister Cate gave me this mystery bulb (because I forget what it is) a couple of Christmases ago, and it didn't bloom- but a big wide, long leaf shot out of it. I let it hibernate for the Winter this year and just brought it back out into the sun about a month ago, and look how it's grown!

Lent Fatigue

I have Lent fatigue. Lent is indeed the busiest season for churchies, we add all sorts of extra programming and it's traditionally sacrament time, too, so there's even more going on. We've been having simple soup suppers followed by Stations of the Cross every Friday, which has been absolutely lovely but means that we haven't had two days without going in to the church since Ash Wednesday. Ohhhh for two days off!!!
And I've been doing this low-carb thing for my Lenten promise- and doing really well at it! I've been disciplined, even drinking that awful low-carb beer instead of the real stuff, even when we're out on the town! Maybe that doesn't sound too impressive to you, gentle reader, but ohhhh it is.
Last Sunday was Laetare Sunday, which is meant to remind us that we're getting there- that joy and rejoicing are just around the corner. It worked on me, and I started dreaming about Easter Sunday morning, sleeping late and eating great things all day, relaxing with Scott in pajamas all day, maybe a nap... ahhhhh. I can't wait.
But there's still a bit to go- and I'm going to look for some new low-carb things to try, get a little variety in to stave off the boredom, and try to keep myself on track until glorious, glorious Easter.

parish family

Today I was perched behind the organ in the chapel, watching the Baptismal festivities. The two babies who were baptized were so cute, and I am lucky to be able to help the deacon with the annointings, because I get an up-close look at the action. From where we sat on the organ bench, we had a great view of a little toddler in a pink dress who was having a great time babbling and checking everything out. Her family passed her around until the right aunt kept her busy and cozy in her lap. After a while, she ended up out in the center aisle, walking slowly toward the front. As she moved forward, I watched each adult at the end of their row tap the shoulder of the person in front of them, passing on the job of being the watchful eye for this little girl. No one jumped up and panicked about her being loose, they all seemed to know her pretty well and know she'd be okay and not disruptive- but they all kept a loving eye on her. It was a neat example of how a family works- I am starting to see that there is enormous value in being part of a big, loving, extended family.
Later I saw that again, with Marissa and Nicole and little Alycia all taking care of each other at Mass. Young people follow their parents' lead in so many ways, but it just can't be discounted how incredibly important a great Auntie can be, how valuable a loving Godparent can be.
I served as a Eucharistic Minister at Mass, too, and was touched by the hands that reached out to receive Communion from me. I'm always intrigued by the different styles of receiving; by hand, by mouth, by hands held up high or way down low, by the people who say "Amen." before I even finish saying "Body of Christ." One guy walks up so close to me that he bumps into my bowl. Some bow before receiving, most don't. Some look into my eyes, some look at the wafer, some at my hand. But anyway, tonight, I was amazed by all the sizes and shapes and textures of the hands that reached out in front of me. They were all ages, and some were strong looking and some were curled up with age. It felt beautiful to be serving communion and be in communion with the variety of hands that make up our parish.
Now I'm off to be with the same headache that's dogged me since Friday. Hormonal, I guess. Tomorrow's supposed to be very cold again, Spring hopes are dashed. But Easter's coming, I can feel it.

cheery cheery cheery

Today it was around 60 degrees, and sunny. I saw green points poking out of the ground, and went for a walk without a proper coat, without gloves, without snow-proof shoes. I've been getting emails from a seed catalog company and it's full of temptations. I think we've planted mostly perennials in our little garden at this point, but I seem to recall a few empty spots.
I can feel a difference, physically, when it starts to warm up like this. This morning I cleaned the whole kitchen and part of the bathroom, made myself breakfast and lunch, and got it all done before going to work!
I always think about how brilliant it is that Lent happens in the Spring. I know, I know it's no coincidence but I really love how we start in darkness and each day as we grow closer and closer to the glory of Easter, the days become brighter and warmer and all around are signs of new and renewed life. It really is a hope-filled time and I can feel my heart warming along with my fingers.
Right after Easter we leave for California for a religious education conference, and I can't wait! I love having something to look forward to. I feel happy and lucky to have the life I have!

Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY 03/12/09...
Outside My Window... my little garden is gathering up strength for the day I can pull all the mulchy leaves off and let the sun at them.
I am thinking... about 30 Rock, it's just such a funny show!!! I get a new quotable quote from that show every week.
I am thankful for... for payday! We can get groceries now! Woo!
From the kitchen... did I mention we have no groceries?
I am wearing... I'm dressed, still dressed from work! No pajamas this time! But soon...
I am creating... seriously strong stomach muscles from the cough I have.
I am going... to California in April for a conference. I'm so looking forward to it!!
I am reading... still a LOT for my Christology class. But also, I'm reading a book called Good News Parish Leadership that says, among other things, that hospitality is job one for a parish. Job One!
I am hoping... that my doctor will call me tomorrow and save me from this cough.
I am hearing... Pip purring from my lap
Around the house... oh, you know, laundry awaits.
One of my favorite things... is bedtime. I love crawling into our bed and pulling the comforter up under my chin. Ahhhhhhh.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: Friday night is Soup and Stations at the church, and the Youth Ministry is sponsoring. The rest of Friday and Saturday I will probably spend the day on the couch trying not to cough.
Here is picture thought I am sharing...
Last year I planted grape tomato seeds, and they only grew about two inches over the summer, so I brought them in for the winter. Lookit them now!!

salvation

So like I said I'm about halfway through Christology. We've talked about the subject of Christology itself, how it works, and we've talked about the difference between Jesus and Christ and we've talked about the Trinity, and we've talked about the Personal Unity of Christ (that is, how He's human AND divine at the same time). What we haven't talked about yet, and what I've been waiting for anxiously, is SALVATION.
I'm curious about salvation and as one of the authors in one of my articles said, salvation is something that every Catholic knows, until asked to define it. I've heard so many conflicting answers to the question of Are We Saved/Who Is Saved/How Are We Saved If Indeed We Are that I just don't know. I mean, I have a hunch... but I'm waiting and waiting for the answer to come to me in Christology class. Everyone who's answered these questions for me has been a good resource, Capital C Catholic, and each answer has been juuuuust different enough to leave me confused. I've heard that we're Redeemed, but not Saved, but that we don't believe in Faith And Good Works as a way to get to salvation, although, I've heard that we kind of, actually, do.
I've heard that Jesus has saved us but not yet.
So, if I get through this course (or God forbid, my graduate studies) without finding the answer, I am going to be sorely disappointed.
Gotta go get some more reading done.

Post the second, Boston Symposium

So. This was the Boston Symposium on Adolescent Catechesis, offered by a bunch of different offices from the RCAB. The original speaker was to be Fr. Brian Bransfield, who I've never heard of. I wonder now what his take on the subject matter might have been. He was called to a big meeting, though, and we were glad when it was announced that Sean Reynolds would take his place.
The day opened with an address by Cardinal Sean, who urged us to make Catholic Identity a priority, by going back to the Sacraments, Marian devotion, and the Papacy. Yeah.
The rest of the day was divided into segments:
Session One: FORMING YOUNG DISCIPLES- a quick review of the NSYR
Session Two: The Conclusion Chapter of Soul Searching
Session three: Are we asking the right questions?
It was interesting to watch people's reactions to what Sean presented. He gave us some fascinating insights into the faith lives of kids, like;

• When it comes to faith, Most teens pretty much follow the faith of their parents.
• In most variables measuring religiosity, Catholic teens, in comparison to other Christian denominations, are worse than all others.
• Most American teenagers were found to be not very spiritual or religious.
• Most American teenagers are remarkably inarticulate about their faith (particularly Catholic teens).

This means, of course, that the way we've been doing faith formation for teenagers in the Catholic Church needs to change, not soon, not now, but 30 years ago!! This comes as shocking and unwanted news to the DRE's in the room who have used the same textbooks for 40 years and felt like they were doing a pretty good job.
The thing of it is, the whole day ended very much to be about ADULT faith formation. If we find that kids basically do what their parents do, then WHY are we using the bulk of our resources on children?
Of course (my words here), ministry to youth is important- vital. Necessary. And... it had better be good. Because when our young people become parents, they'll be passing along what they believe. It can't start with a Young Adult Hootenanny Group, and it can't wait until they stumble back to the church to have their kids go through First Eucharist.
I wonder what people there thought of the presentation. The group was a mix of Youth Ministers, DRE's, and Catholic School teachers, and I bet they expected something a little bit more centered around... well, how to do catechesis with youth. But as for us Whole-Community-Catechesis people, us Lifelong Faith Formation people, I think we were certainly affirmed. I was one of only a couple of people who raised their hands when they asked if anyone's job involved working with parents. I wonder, too, what the Cardinal thought... he was supposed to give some kind of reflection at the end, but instead sent us off with a thanks and an Our Father...

Post the first, Boston Symposium, Rant Edition

So yesterday we ventured into Archdiocesan territory for the Boston Symposium on Adolescent Catechesis. There are two parts that I must report on, regarding this day; the posh new Pastoral Center, and of course the presentation.
I admit that I have such a bad attitude when it comes to the RCAB- twice this very week I heard about two good ideas falling flat because the Archdiocese couldn't make them happen, and of course I've been 3rd-degree burned by some of the Upper Persons in the RCAB organization. So I do admit I approached the day with a chip on my shoulder, well-earned as it may be. It's that same old feeling of running into a bad ex at a mutual friend's wedding- but I did my best to think positive and expect good things from the day. It was my first visit to the Pastoral Center and hooooeyyyy it's nice.
I know, I know, it's donated- the building came from a very generous donor, okay... but I couldn't believe how tricked-out it was. Fancy lighting, gorgeous everything, everything was A-1. This did not look like the building of a group who was trying to dig itself out of a financial hole and win back the hearts of the Little People. And yeah, maybe this is nitpicking but it was nowhere near Green. They didn't even have recycling buckets for the cans and water bottles from lunch. This, I guess, might be a niggling detail, but to me it signifies a group that just can't seem to get their behavior to match their values. Contrast that to the Sisters of St. Joseph's "mother house" which was carefully designed to be a good investment for the sisters, and the design and maintenance is thoughtfully made to be green green green. It's a gorgeous building but no the sisters were careful not to sell their collective souls to build it.
The Symposium was oversold, so about 30 of us were in another room with a screen, speakers, a better view and more space and comfort than the hundreds of people in the actual room. We did participate, and the speaker was great at recognizing our existence and including us in the presentation. I guess I'd say it was an educational day, in many ways!

Catholic Tool

I know, I've been very neglectful of this blog, and you, dear readers... I just haven't been able to complete a fascinating thought lately. Maybe it's because I'm on "Spring" break. We've had a ton of snow and it's been awfully cold, and I'm starting to feel that longing that comes around in March every year.
I've charged right into Lent with pretty good resolve, and this year I'm low-carbing, which is tricky in Lent. Fridays are especially tough for an almost-complete-meat-eater. It's also been Scott's birthday "season," which means parties and cake at every turn. I don't want to be a Catholic Tool and peel the cheese off the pizza at staff lunch, and so I suck it up and try to do the best I can.
Each Friday for Lent our parish is hosting simple soup suppers followed by the Stations of the Cross. A different parish group sponsors the suppers each week, and supplies the soup. Our first one was sponsored by the Knights of Columbus, pros at this sort of thing, and they served minestrone and corn chowder. The chowder was delicious due, no doubt, to the bacon bits in it.
The more I learn about Jesus, the more I cringe at things like the Stations of the Cross. I have a hard time paying such strict attention to just that part of the story, because to me the important parts of Jesus' Christ-hood are, well, all the parts. So when we kneel and say that by His holy cross He redeemed the world, well, I have some trouble with almost that whole sentence. This is the trouble with gaining a little bit of knowledge I guess. I still have another half-semester of Christology to go, so maybe that'll swing me back around.

I am a culinary goddess

I am on my way soon to PJ's annual Mardi Gras gathering, and since he forgot to get a King Cake (and let's face it, they are fun only while you're looking for the baby, but then become a responsibility... and they're not so much cake as they are breakfast quickbread. I dunno, I just never caught the king cake fever I guess) I decided to make rainbow cupcakes.
Inspired by this rainbow cake, I whipped up these cupcakes and can't wait to get there and bite into one!
Here's a peek into the creative process:

6 colors, using white cake mix and regular liquid food colors.


















I just spooned in the colors one at a time, on top of each other.




































Mmmm, can't you just smell the cakey goodness?














Cooling on my porch. Any unsuspecting snacker would think they're just red. But NO.


















And the final results. PS, the frosting is Chocolate Cream Cheese frosting. Oh yeah.














Sorry the last pictures are a little fuzzy, I was trembling with excitement.

How about this: he's not mine to keep

I have been following Amy Welborn's heartbreaking life story since the unexpected death of her husband a week or two ago... he died on a treadmill at the gym, a complete and total shock... it's been the equivalent of slowing down on a highway to peer at an accident scene, for me, who is so gripped by the fear of losing my own husband. I've been reading her blog posts about her experience of grief and aching along with her. Today, I read this post and it has set me back, has made me think in a new way:
Go Figure

death be not such a big deal

I don't know if I've mentioned this but I think about death a lot. Lately I've been wondering if there's something unhealthy about how often it crosses my mind. Such as, when Scott and I are driving two cars home from work, and I lose sight of him in my rear-view, and think "I should stay within sight of his car, in case something happens to him..." or when I go in to wake him up in the morning and check to make sure he's breathing first.
This week my pastor's brother died suddenly. They were the best of friends, and my pastor had just come from an extended vacation with his brother- only a few days later he died unexpectedly, it was really a shock. Throughout the wake and funeral, we often remarked how blessed they were to have had that vacation time together, and how if you have to die, doing so suddenly with no suffering and no warning is maybe something we should all hope for- along with the mourning, I think there was a palpable feeling of gratitude for the way it all happened.
And I can surely see the logic in that. So as I sat in the pew, watching my beloved pastor mourn but celebrate, I wondered just what my position on death is, after all.
I think I'm not really afraid of dying. I truly believe that whatever comes next will be even better than what we experience in life, and hell is not a pervasive worry of mine (as much as some would say it should be!) I know somehow that I'll see my loved ones again, only burden-free, and blissful. What's to fear? And I do feel this same hope for my loved ones- that they'll be in Heaven with Jesus and all that... so why then am I so worried on the death of those close to me?
Is it the "dropping of the shoe" of it all? Is it my need to control things that makes me hyper-vigilant of the lives of my friends and family? I guess I need to do some reckoning between my beliefs. Maybe if I can remember how much I'm cool with death on the whole, it'll make my days worry-free.
You know what I think would really help? Some ice cream.

Mom, too?

The other day Scott and I went to visit my friend in the hospital- her son was in a bed all hooked up with tubes and wires and was sedated. At one point, she and I were standing at the crib-side, looking down at him, when the chaplain came in to pay a visit. She shook my friend's hand and asked "are you Mom?" and then turned to me and said "are you Mom, too?"
These are the things that went through my head in that second:
1) How nice of her to be this open and welcoming to the possibility that I might be Mom, too.
2) Why does she think I could be Mom, too? Do I LOOK LIKE A LESBIAN? Or, do I look sad enough to be Mom? Or was I gazing lovingly at my friend when she came in?
3) DON'T say NO like you're offended! Don't be defensive! Be cool!
4) What's the protocol here, do I tell her that I'm a minister too?
5) I'm not just Mom, too, I'm in NO WAY Mom.
6) Do I LOOK LIKE A MOM?
Seriously, ALL these things went through my head in a split second. Funny how the brain works.
I said "oh! No, I'm a friend." She shook my hand and proceeded with the ministering. She did a lovely job- asked my friend what she could do to help, and she asked for prayers, which the min. promptly set to. The prayer was nice- She had asked my friend if she had a "particular tradition" and my friend said she's a Protestant- so there was no sign of the cross or anything. It was interesting to see another minister at work.
When she left, my friend bent over fully and laughed so hard that the woman asked me if I was Mom, too. We have so many great stories like this one in our history. We spent the next half hour replaying them and laughing. It was a great break in the worry.

Simple Woman's Daybook

FOR TODAY 02/04/09...
Outside My Window... a new layer of snow makes everything look new again.
I am thinking... about whether or not to go in to work tomorrow- I've been out two days with a rotten...something and still don't feel much better.
I am thankful for... Scott. I just read about Amy Welborn's husband, who died unexpectedly and tragically on a treadmill at the gym. Now what are we supposed to do with that??
From the kitchen... not much, I'm not very hungry... I had a half of an english muffin for breakfast, some soup for lunch, and some egg salad for dinner. Nothing tastes very good.
I am wearing... pajamas. Am I always wearing pajamas when I write these things?
I am creating... columns for the bulletin. For the past 3 bulletins, the pastor has been out of town, and no one else (seriously, NO ONE ELSE on the staff would write one. So I'm doing my quarter page column, plus his full-page column. I'm glad he'll be back next week!
I am going... to stay home another day, probably. It feels like I have a tennis ball in my throat.
I am reading... a LOT for my Christology class. Do theological authors not have to submit their text for editing? Some of this stuff is one complete paragraph, no breaks. And it's heady stuff. Interesting, but sheesh.
I am hoping... that Scott comes home soon so we can watch LOST together
I am hearing... the neighbors coming in with their dog. He's a little one, but not a yappy little one- and I like to hear his happy footsteps on our ceiling when his owners come home!
Around the house... Scott's stuff is clean and neat and my stuff is all over the place. I can't wait till spring and the energy it brings.
One of my favorite things... is Pip. The other is Zarley. They are our cats. Last night when I was asleep on the couch I woke to Pip, who was sitting on the coffee table and looking at me, purring her little heart out. I said "hi" and she stepped forward, kissed my forehead, and sat back down. Sweet.
A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week: this Sunday is our first pot-luck dinner at the parish, in a long time. I am the bold piece who has been swearing to everyone that it's a good idea and that people will come. I hope they do.
Here is picture thought I am sharing...
Pip likes to dig under blankets and sleep in a cozy cocoon, it's very cute- but I'm always afraid Scott will plop down on her while she's under there, so I made this little sign to put on her to tell him she's there. It says "don't sit on me."

...which makes the 40's the new 30's I guess

American Idol, especially tonight's episode, is proof-positive that the 30's are so much better than the 20's.

Cupdate

Get it? Cupdate?
I went back to the surgeon today to have some little problems addressed. Apparently my body doesn't like the idea of dissolving dissolvable stitches, and instead pushes them out through my skin. It's not a painful thing, but it is a bit disconcerting.
I have been thinking about how much I've healed in the past two months, how far I've come. Like they say about childbirth, the pain is a distant, hazy memory- I remember that it hurt, but can't really locate that experience in my mind. I do remember being miserable and discouraged, but those feelings seem long-ago and far-away too. My friend told me that one day I'd realize that I hadn't noticed my incisions all day, and that day has practically come now. I can lay on my belly at night and jog up the stairs at work without any kind of agony.
So, would I recommend this surgery to someone else? Yeah, I think I would. I don't think I'm one of those surgery cheerleaders who brag about how great they feel. Yet. But I think that day might come. One thing's for sure, I notice EVERYONE'S chest now. I find myself thinking "hey that girl could use a breast reduction (or two)."

Christmas All Year Round

It had been a while since we'd gone for sushi, so we were happy to be back at Yoki in Medford, our new favorite place. We ordered a buncha different rolls and some edamame, as is our tradition- but then Tom came by our table with the Christmas Roll.
Tom is the owner/manager of Yoki, and a lovely guy- he's also a parishioner at our parish, and comes to the 5:00 Mass every week if he can get out of the restaurant for an hour. He is a big supporter of the Youth Ministry and always has great things to say about the church and about the young people. He also is a big fan of the Youth Minister, who we happened to be dining with that night.
Tom came by and said "since you didn't come at Christmas time, I want you to try our Christmas Roll, it's my gift to you."
We have gone back 4 more times since then, in the last week and a half.
Now, I don't know what's in the Christmas roll, but that there is at least avocado, cream cheese, and some sort of fish, and that it has some kind of stuff on top, and that the colors of red and green are prominent, and that it is surrounded by a delicious sauce and tiny crunchy rice balls. it is exactly the size of my mouth, which is to say that I can fit one piece of the roll in my mouth at one time- and from there it is a delicious explosion of flavors and consistencies.
I can't stop thinking about the Christmas Roll. Do go and try it- tell 'em you heard about them at church. And if you need company, give me a call!

Good bye Dunkin' Donuts at 108 Newbury St. Peabody MA...

... I'm breaking up with you.
I'm sorry to do this, because you, 108 Newbury, could have been perfect for me. Just far enough away from home that the toothpaste taste is gone, but close enough so I could have coffee for the trip to work. You're right on my way.
But the drive-through is slower than death, staffed with people who don't seem to speak or understand english, and who seem baffled by the cash register. I am not one of those people who hate people with accents, I don't want to scream "this is America, learn English!!!" into the speaker when I order, but I do think that to be qualified for the Dunkin' Donuts drive-through job, one should understand such english phrases as "iced coffee, cream, no sugar" and "multigrain bagel, not toasted, plain cream cheese."
The last time I tried this store, I went inside, hoping that would work better. I was given my coffee, and sent to the opening down the counter, where no one looked at me, or gave me a bagel. Finally a guy who was cleaning up the straws and napkins yelled at the woman who kept walking by me on the other side of the counter. He said "Mama! Say 'What you waiting for?'" and the woman turned to me and said "What you waiting for?" I gave her my order, again, and waited.
It was then that I swore that I'd never be back.
I had a weak moment the other day and swung into the parking lot- but the line was backed all the way around the building, and I didn't bother. Instead, I went to the nice new store at 7 Post Office Square in Lynnfield. There was no line in the drive through, the voice over the speaker was cheery, and when I got to the window, she gave me my order (correct) and a free bumper sticker!
So goodbye Peabody DuDo's and welcome to my life, Lynnfield DuDo's!! I think we're going to be very happy together.

He looked fuzzy in my glasses

Yesterday was my first time in class with my new reading glasses. I was seated at the back of a large room (next to my former campus minister from freshman year in college, as it turned out!) so I was looking at the professor from pretty far away, and then looking down at my reading and notes.
I've always wanted glasses. I always thought people looked really cool in glasses, and love the accessory-ness of them. When I was in college, someone had a fake pair that we passed around, and I did my homework wearing them once or twice- I felt bona-fide smarter when I read with those things on (although now that I think about it, since it was the late 80's/early 90's, they were probably gargantuan and red...). I knew the day would come that I'd need glasses- there's precedent in my family- in fact, I think I'm the last to go over to the shiny side. I always thought I'd look pretty good in glasses, and looked forward to the day that I'd have a ready headband at my nose-tips. I love the look of glasses-as-headband.
But now I see that this is going to be trickier than I had thought. When I had my glasses on, my professor looked fuzzy (as opposed to him looking fuzzy with my glasses on... oh, never mind...) but with them off, I couldn't read very well. I ended up either peering out over them like a scary old lady or pushing my notebook arm's length away from me on the table.
I probably should go to an actual eyeglasses place, and see an actual eye doctor... wasn't that one of my "9 for '09?" Maybe being back in class will inspire me.

I hear it's warm in Alaska... (two new posts)

We were due for a "dusting" last night, but we got quite a bit more than that. It was a day of actual shoveling, and I had to bring out the push broom to get the car cleared- no puny snow brush was going to do this job.

Our sun-catchers became snow-catchers!






















































This glowing snowpile contains the tiny tree that served as our Christmas card photo...












Our summer scene, covered in snow. Only 60 days till Spring!

worst part: I burned the inside of my cheek on this!

A couple of weeks ago, my aunt sent out a recipe for acake that could be made in five minutes, by combining all the ingredients in a coffee mug and cooking it up in the microwave. I haven't been able to get it off my mind since then. So tonight, while Scott went off to the gym (way to go honey! Keep up the good work!) I made a cake in my microwave.
It's such a good idea, and we have all had nights when a five minute cake could keep us from doing much, much worse... so it pains me to tell you that this is NOT what we had all hoped it would be. It comes out as some kind of a cake, but rather than moist, fluffy goodness, it's a quivering, spongy kind of a mass. It was chocolaty, and the choc. chips in there helped, but in no way does it redeem this recipe for the massive PMS-letdown that it is. I guess, if I were on a stranded island with all the ingredients to bake a real cake but only five minutes and a microwave (and what are the odds of either of those on a stranded island?) I'd suffer through it. But until then I guess it's back to break-and-bake chocolate chip cookie dough. I wish I had summa that right now...

The Saga Continues

At 4:45 I woke to the sound of chewing. I tried to lean over Scott and grope for the flashlight he keeps on his night stand (I know that sounds dirty but it's not, this time, I promise). He woke up and I said "I think the mouse is at the foot of the bed." We sat up in the pitch-black darkness and listened to the little critter munching away at our walls.
Pip was lying in a fluffy curl at my feet. I hissed at her "PIP! Wake up!! Get the MOOUUUSSSSE!" Pip does not like to be awakened. Scott started to poke her and as soon as she was awake enough to, she fought back, swatting at his hands every time he poked. Finally we urged her up and she jumped down to stare at the wall wherein the mouse continued to chew.
After turning our light on to be sure that the mouse was at least on the other side of a wall from us, we settled back in to sleep, serenaded by the chewing sounds and the purring of cats.
This Is Not Over.

The Great Hunt

We have been sitting peacefully in our living room, trying to decide whether or not to go out into the freezing cold for dinner. But a few minutes ago, we heard a tousle in the dining room, and I jumped up to see if the cats were wrestling.
Well, one cat was wrestling, but she was wrestling not with a cat but with a MOUSE!!! I got up just in time to find Pip with a mouthful of mouse in the dining room.
Which she dropped, and then chased into the bedroom.
Which she then caught, and brought up onto the bed and dropped onto Scott's pillow.
Which then ran under the bed, followed by Pip.
Scott then got down on all fours to move the bins and other crap out of the way, so Pip could hunt better (while we were debating our options... let Pip finish? She didn't seem all that intent on the actual KILLING of the mouse, and anyway, what if she DID kill it, what are the odds it would be a neat kill? If you know what I mean?) and I stood on a chair.
Yes, I stood on a chair. But it's not what you think, it was really so I could get a good shot at the scene with my camera, which I had run to the kitchen to get. So, you know, there.
Then, the mouse ran out from under the bed, and UNDER SCOTT. He actually brushed against Scott's knee on his way by. Oh Man.
Now, the mouse has disappeared, somewhere in our dining room, and Pip is still under the bed trying to rout out the mouse, which, you know, is not in the bedroom, which we tried to tell her but she is just ignoring us.
So, yeah, we're going out to dinner. Remind me to change Scott's pillowcase before we go to bed tonight!

Where did he go???!!!

This one's for the Ladieeeees!

Did you know they don't make mini pads anymore? It used to be Maxi, Mini, Pantiliner. Now there's Maxi, Thin (or ULTRAthin) Maxi, and Pantiliner.
Also, did you know that pads (at whatever thickness) make excellent wound dressings? It's true. I am not making that up, people use them for that. How about that!

web-based mornings

My morning web use is pretty ritualized- and I'm afraid it makes me look desperate.
I surf in Safari (Woah.... think that's why they called it Safari, so people would say "surfin' safari?") and have tabs that I just go across to make my daily site visits. They go in this order, across the top of my page:
I start at the Farmer's Almanac, where I check the weather and "of-the-day"s. Good stuff there, that's where I learned that this was going to be such a snowy winter.
Next up: Universal Hub, kind of a collection of Boston area news and blogs.
Next comes Twitter- I follow 17 twitter-ers, and have 10 followers although I have no idea why, as I never say anything important or interesting on there.
IGoogle gives me two min-games to play and the morning news, along with a CS Lewis quote every day.
Facebook next, say no more, say no more.
Qwantz.com is Dinosaur Comics, which makes me laugh out loud every day.
A Hole In The Head is a blog I found one day randomly, and stayed- he collects and displays great ephemera and all the best videos.
Royal Thoughts of Her Majesty is next, and from there I check Her Halequin's.
Now here's where I fear I seem a little needy- next up are Tyson's blog from Alaska, and his sister-in law's, Stef's. They don't post very often (although Stef posts just enough to make you think a new one might be up soon), but since they are both in my tabs, I check every day and sometimes a couple of times. They must think I am desperate for details on their lives. But I swear, it's just the line they're in. Plus, Stef's baby is IMPOSSIBLY cute.
Next comes Not Martha, which has great recipes, crafts, and links. There's always something cool there.
Her Bad Mother is a blog I'm following now, I probably won't forever but for some reason I'm hooked. I do go through blog phases... I have a bookmark folder called "usedtabe on the bar" where I put my past phase-blogs, like Scrutinies, which I love but doesn't get updated very often, sadly.
Next up I check my BC email... no class on MLK day! Woo!
Then comes Woot Shirt, a place recommended to me by Popple, they have unique t-shirts, one a day, for 10 bucks. I haven't bought one yet.
Finding My Other Half comes next.
Tastespotting is a new fave, with luscious pictures of food, glorious food- clickable for blogs or recipes. Yum.
Knitting Journey's next, my sister's knitting blog. I know nothing about knitting, but I like reading what my sister has to say.
And finally, Passive Agressive Notes.
So, this is all to say, it's RITUAL, Tyson and Stef, and Cathy and Kate, I'm not stalking you. It's just the way my mornings roll out. No pressure to post more! Love your work!