Famous Last Words: Halloween Costumes

I really believed it when I said it, too:

"I will never give in to the new-fangled way of buying halloween costumes when I could just make one!"

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAA.

Last year I found a cute little cow one piece hoodie suit for fifty cents, and he was just six months old, so it did not really count, right? But this year, when I realized that it would take me weeks to sew it and I truly could not buy even the fabric for that cute little pumpkin outift for less than the $11 price tag, I hung my head in shame. I like to sew and craft, but not out of spite, and rarely to a deadline. And $11. Thread and notions and cloth, never mind the time, which would have been enjoyable. So, I bought it. And he is darn cute in it, too.

But is this the way it is going to go now for the next years? I do not mean the famous last words part. I fully expect to be denouncing those ideal statements of fervor for years to come. I mean the costumes thing. I looked around the room today at a moms group halloween party and all the kids were adorable, but the costumes are just so....consumerist! The super hero is all spandex and real muscles and comic book copyrighted images all around. But, then again, lets not paint the past with the glory days marker. When I was but a wee lass, the super hero costume would have been blue and red sweat pants and sweatshirt drawn all over with permanent marker. And, after all the effort put into the fine drawings by a loving parent, you would still look almost indistinguishable from a scribble. A scribble with superpowers who had to go around saying, No, I'm Spiderman, can't you tell!!! [Umm, no, you look like a scribble.]

I had several memorable costumes. I am sure I did witch, and of course in high school all the girls dressed like variations of hooker. Oh, so wild, right? But I was also a thermometer. That was fun. I know, I was a nerd, even as a wee lass. A wee nerd.

I suppose I will adapt to the ways of less creativity if I must. Regardless of its past, hopefully I can impart to my children that Halloween can be a celebration of fun. Just plain, simple fun.

Miracle of the Lap

I was eating Cheerios. He is playing. Pushing chairs around. Now picking things up off of the floor and putting them in the trashcan. Things like the Cheerios that he recently and ceremoniously ejected from the table himself. He plays by himself in long stretches but mostly stays within my aura, only wandering a little further away for brief moments, but at those times he bounds back into the room where I am and up into my arms. Wanting a kiss. Then release and off again.

But at some point he climbs up into my lap. Just to sit there, wanting that closeness with Mama.

This is such a special stage of independence. Everyone assumes that independence is all about letting go. But if that were true we would all live isolated and never see anyone else. A hermit, incidentally, does not live in isolation. For a hermit can only be seen as living solitary in relationship to her/his community. Otherwise you are just a nut reputed to live in the desert or forest. No contact.

Closeness is such an important part of independence and of developing healthy relationships with people and God and saints and angels. My son is not sitting here in my arms by default. We are nursing less than ever now. Mostly just after he wakes up from his nap, sometimes also in the morning when he wakes up, sometimes not at all. But his need for love, for closeness, for spiritual sharing through physical touch as not disappeared. Now he chooses. He chooses to be hugged. To try the cereal with milk that I am eating. We share our energy back and forth, loving.

Adults need that closeness, too, and too many of us are out of the habit.
Closeness, physical touch from friends, neighbors, lovers in kindness, creates a spiritual awareness. Give a peaceful handshake instead of a hurried one. Put a hand on a shoulder. Sit close. Draw someone in for a hug or a side-arm embrace. Place a hand on someone's arm, look them in the eye, say Thank-you.

Choose.

Choose to pay attention to the people in your life. Choose to Love.

A Falling Leaf

We most often think of starting as starting something NEW. Turning over a new leaf. And given my topic, turning over a new leaf in the book of life, or research, might seem a propos. But I am not srtarting someting new, rather trying desperately to put life back into something lying dormant. And as I look out my window I see the aumn leaves falling almost as if it were snowing. Big yellow snowflakes one by one by one. Getting through all the old leaves, letting them go, so that the sap can ferment and later rise to push out new life.

I have my proposal half finished, and I need to finish it.

My family has been under considerable strain. Job loss, house selling, moving, new job, brand new lifestyle. The only thing that I can do at this point to help make things better, less stressful for all of us, is to work on and ultimately finish, my dissertation. Finishing my dissertation is the only thing that I can do to create future opportunities for myself. I want desperately to finish. I think that this realization is finally providing the motivation I need to buckle down.

My friend Terri helped me to realize that I have to, and am ready to, take responsibility for my work.
Bill and I agreed that he would come home at 4 on Tues, Wed, and Thurs. so that I could get work done. And he has been, and patiently giving me space. But I have not been sending myself to work. Now I will. Every Tu-Th, no matter how much work acutally happens, I will be here sitting at the computer trying to get the inspiration and motivation to flow, and doing what I can in the mean time. Nothing will ever happen if I am hanging around downstairs. And Nico and Bill will be fine.

And knowing that I will have this work time, I can stop feeling guilty about the rest of the day. When Nico laid down for a nap today, I took one too. Then I awoke feeling rested and ready to work. Or ready to be ready.

Dear Saint Frumentius [Oct 27], you were shipwreked on the shore of a foreign land. And Yet you found a way to work and use your gifts, to spread the Gospel and the Peace of Christ. Guide my thoughts and actions, give me strength. Amen.

Newsflash: Weather Happens Every Day

Weather. It is what is going on outside your huts and houses even when nothing is going on. Sitting on the front porch swing, listening to the birdies chirping, all quiet. Just Weather.
Warm. Cool. Slight Breeze. Cloudy. Drizzly. Sunny. Blue Sky deep enough to make you cry. Purple clouds stacked towards heaven, throwing down vengeance and mystery, the air charged with anticipation. The life cycle powered by rains and sun, seeds on the wind. And sometimes death. Always weather.

I love the weather. I see the Spirit of God connecting us all.

So I just do not understand and in fact rather dislike it when people complain about the weather.

I do not expect anyone to shout Hooray for the Hurricane! Yay for Flooding!

But if it is sunny, someone complains it is hot, and if it is cloudy, someone complains that it is gloomy.

Why do rainy days have to be gloomy?? Why not relaxing? Quiet? And Joyful!! When it rains I can hear the plants singing, rejoicing in the nourishment that the water is and that the water brings with it as it trickles down to the roots and into the water table.

I don't mind small talk about the weather. And I am always interested in the way the weather affects our lives. But whining and complaining about the weather is strange and pointless.

Maybe it is just me, but when I step out my door, barring death, dying and destruction, I want to exclaim to anyone who will listen (and not kill me): Beautiful Day, is it not? Today, Yellow leaves floating down like love notes from the Divine, gentle misty spa treatment, soft grey skies of relaxation and warm tea. Beautiful Day.

More Weather tomorrow, y'all, every day until the last.

You Do Not *Feel* Like It ?!!

Prison.

Clap Clap.
Prison. Clap Clap. Prison in the morning, Prison in the Noontime. Prison. Clap Clap. Prison. Clap Clap. Prison the whole day long.

Now usually this song is sung {sing sang sung} with "Jesus" instead of "prison", but whenever I speak to my friend Unzell, this version of that song pops into my head. It's always right at the moment where I automatically say, "Hi! How are you?" I hear how stupid it sounds as I say it, and I resolve to say something different next time, but next time comes and I invariably blurt out that same trite thing AGAIN. Grr. I hate trite, and I hate admitting that I am just as enslaved to accidental triteness as anyone.

So we are talking today and I am telling him about my progress in losing weight and being healthier. I said that it is not enough to want it and feel motivated today. I have 80 or so pounds to go, and then I want to stay healthy after that, so one little bit of enthusiasm is not enough. It has to be a committment.

He laughed in recognition. He is in a wheelchair, in prison, paralyzed from the waist down. He said that for him, staying strong is a necessity because otherwise he can't get around, and needs to be able to get around by himself without any reliance on anyone else, not just for health but for *safety*. I try not to let my imagination get specific about what he means by safety, but I think I get it. So he'll be in the gym working out and some other guy will come in and say, 'man, I'm really not feelin' it today.' And he'll say, 'What the heck are you talkin' about? Not feelin' it. Please. Just do it. Get to work or get out of the gym. If you want your body to look like mine you got some Work to do. Not feelin' it!'

He chuckles.

'Don't ever let your feelin's stand in the way of gettin' what you want. You can work out your feelin's any way you like, but just don't let 'em get in the way.'

You preach it Unzell. I am listening. Listening and changing my ways.

Prison's not a cakewalk, y'all. Don't believe what you read in the papers. Go see for yourself.

Hrabana

I did look.

I looked high and low for an early medieval woman that inspired me. And then as my reading took me further and further afield I had a revelation. Just because I am a woman does not mean that only women can be my role models. I had been being sexist in my search for inspiration.

Hrabana, then, is the feminine form of Hrabanus, student of Alcuin. If Hrabanus was called Maurus after the student of benedict, why cannot I in turn, as an admirer of Alcuin, be like his favorite student.

This can be a repository of my scholarly writing and thinking as well as space for commentary on the writing and research process. I find the blog environment is quite conducive to my writing persona, and though this is perhaps an unusual format for formal work, if it produces good results then I am willing to be unorthodox.

Welcome.

WrB: "Ribbies for Nerds"

It took me a LONG time to figure out that "Ribbies" were RBI's in baseball [That's a player's Runs Batted In statistic for those of you with no baseball knowledge whatsoever.]

So then I realized that us academics, authors, writers, inventors - nerds - need our own Ribbies.

Well, actually, I was thinking about how to describe a state of Writer's Block that isn't quite as blocked as it was before, but still blocked a goodly amount. I propose a percentage. WrB 0 - 100. WrB 0 means "ain't nothing comin'", "Blocked as hell", "effing blocked", and "H E L P". WrB 100 is "I got my mojo going", "Leave me Be! I'm writing here!", "I feeeeel good {na na na na na na na}The way that I should now, ba-yay-by", and "Praise Jesus!!"

I had printed out the article that I recommended in my previous post on writer's block, and it was lying on the desk upstairs. My husband said to me this morning, "umm, dear? I saw the article on the desk about writer's block...Are you trying to tell me something." HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA. Oh my. No I wasn't.

Outloud I said, "No, I wasn't trying to tell you anything, but didn't you already know??" I could tell from the look on his face that it in fact had never occurred to him, but he didn't want to tell me because in retrospect he could tell how easy it is to see. He hedged. "Well, myself I have completely written off the month of September. October will be a brand new month."

Oddly, that is just what I needed to hear. Not to trivialize someone else's grief, but this process seems a lot like grieving. It is not because I do not like Springfield, I just was not ready for all the extra stress that impending joblessness, job hunting, house hunting, house packing, house moving, house unpacking, new place, unsettled precious baby, etc. would bring. Even to me it seems like I am whining. I hear millions of well-meaning people saying "get over it already," "it could have been worse," "at least he has a job," "I'm sure this is the best thing for your family." When people say those things to me it makes me feel uncharacteristically violent. Grieving people often feel pressure to be "handling it" and "moving on."

So I am sure this block is temporary.

Actually, this blog has helped me from WrB 0 to WrB 5. Great strides!

This whole blog format is a big help, so I am wondering if perhaps using a blog to work on my work writing is worth trying?

This week is a new week. We are just days away from a new month.

See I make all things new, says the LORD.

Just One Car

It doesn't happen very often, but it did today, for just a moment. I briefly wished.

"This is one of those moments when having two cars would be nice."

Bill was going to swim at Y, and I would have loved to have gone, too, and brought Nico along. If it were just me, I could still have gone with even though our workout times and needs differ. But Nico doesn't do two hours at the Y when its edging in to nap time. He lasts max of 30 min in the pool. Then he would be so tuckered that home to nap would be necessary.

This moment of wishing last about 10 seconds. But it would not be worth having two cars.

The benefits of having one car:

1. Fewer trips, fewer emissions, fewer reasons not to walk more! As a matter of fact, when we bought our house in Quincy and our new house in Springfield, we purposely located ourselves so that one of us could WALK to work. We are town dwellers, so that makes sense. [I would say city, but Springfield is not big city. I characterize it as a town.] I grew up in a rural area, so I'm not sure that would work there. But one thing I have trouble understanding is why people would choose to live in a town or city and not take advantage of living in it. Suburb people baffle me.
2. Sharing isn't just for babies and children. It is for us big kids, too. Far too many adults have forgotten the manners and social lessons of our youth. I've seen this scene a bazillion times now: one kid has a couple of toys. Another one wants to use one of the toys. The parent of the "stealer" rushes in to make sure that her/his child has not caused a problem with child with the toys. The parent of the toys child says, "No, it's okay. It's good for her to learn how to share."
   I am trying to imagine adult saying that about themselves.....squeeze eyes shut....grunt.....Nope. Can't do it. I can't remember the last time I heard other adults say that it was Good to Share. Ususally when I say something to my husband about Sharing, he replays that scene from "A Fish Called Wanda" where the guy is trying to say "Sorry."
   "I'm so very, very, ssssssssssssaaaaaaaggghhhh!!! 'F'! 'U'! !!!!"
   [I tried to find the clip on You Tube, but to no avail. If you finds it, let me know so that I can add it!]
   Any-hoo, sharing is good, doing things as a family is good, and adults really should continue to do things that build character! Having just one car is one of those things for us right now.
3. Money. First, we have no payment on the one car, so getting a second car would mean a car payment for a little while. And car insurance for sure. When we are ready for a second car, I hope that we will be close to buying it outright. We save up now in preparation for that. If you always have a car payment and never give yourself time to SAVE MONEY, then you spend your life paying A TON in interest. Also, Bill and I are BIG believers in living within your means. This means not buying things you do not have the money for, using a credit card only as a temporary convenience so that you can pay the bill from your savings for items that you've budgeted and saved for but do not necessarily keep that money in your regular bank account. And, for certain, anything beyond the most necessary items and plain vehicles are extra expenditures, and you should never go in debt for fun and perks. Vacation? Perk. Fancy Motorcylce for weekend fun? Perk. New Wardrobe? Perk. Game and Concert Tickets? Perk.

Still, IF we had a second car, occasionally it would come in handy!

We Found First Street

One time around the block: Oh, right, there's no river here to shape the city so as we come into the city the streets don't start with 6th, then fifth, etc. We're all backwards. No, turn here, we'll have to come around again because Cook only goes one way in the other direction.

Two times around the block: I see the restaurant. Big yellow sign. Is there any parking? What was that sign? It said parking for the "Mall" only. What mall? Oh. There is a sign on the restaurant building calling it a mall. Crap. Only metered parking here. How about this lot? Nope that says it for the diner only. Can we get through the alley to come around? Probably not, and it is impossible to tell, anyway, because there is a utility service truck in the way. In. Out. Three point turn. Turn again.

Third time around the block: Into the lot. Cross the brick street, which is closed off to make it a pedestrian zone. Still has the street sign, though: First Street. A view a little further down shows that it is dead on with the State Capitol Building. This little closed block is probably the one of the stretches of first street left. And into the restaurant for yummy pizza. My huband looks up at the sign and sighs, "I'm so tired of being new here and not being able to find my way around."

Amen.

DH and I have been doing a Springfield Pizza Tour, trying out pizza joints all over town. This was PJ #3. I will eventually post some results of the Duffield's Springfield Pizza Tour.

Besides being yummy, Pizza gives us a purpose for tooling around town and getting to know the ins and outs of the place that we live. And eventually knowing all the pizza places will probably make us feel like we actually live here and can call this place home. My nostalgic memories of living in Regensburg and Paris feel like that those places were an adventure. I explored, I trapsed, I tried new things and pushed my boundaries.

But when I am more precise in my remembering, I remember the lonliness, too. The not-knowing-where-I-am-or-sometimes-even-who-I-am. I think I chalked those feelings up to being a foreigner from another country, and I am surprised to find that they have surfaced here in familiar culture and not unknown place. And everytime someone says, "So, all settled in yet?" I want to laugh, howling laughter with a bit of derision. I usually manage a polite, "ehhh, no. Not at all. So, how are you?" Because I have a feeling that since they could even ask that question means that they are not prepared to hear how dizzyingly unsettled I still feel here. I mean I still can't find anything in my pantry, and everytime I vow to spend the three hours that organizing it will take, something else really needs to be done first before it makes sense to start that project. So, no, 24 days in and we are most definitely not settled in. I am guessing it will take about a year before we feel like we can even start to settle.

So bear with me, if I seem a little edgy about the whole thing. This, too, shall pass, y'all.

Writer's Block

Maybe if I make this post the first in a series on Writer's Block, then THAT would kick it.

But this is kind of cronic, reappearing, and really just one big block since, oh, 1998. Seriously.

But I am working on it, working through it. Well mostly.

I have been kind of stuck again lately. The impending job loss of my husband, and then job search and then house sell and house search and house move and now eternal unpacking and being in a new place and kind of lonely has all really piled the stress on and now trying to unwind and the get the office set up and create both physical space and mental space while assuring that the bébé is being cared for in such a way that whining and fussing do not completely derail my work... in short it is like I need a vacation from myself.

So, peeps, I need to get back in the groove.

I need to read it again, but this article is helpful:

http://www.writing-world.com/life/block.shtml

My favorite quote: "McHugh's rule of writer's block: Writer's block is not the inability to write, it is the feeling as you are writing, that what you are writing is shit. The only way through it is to give yourself permission to write shit. (You may replace 'shit' with colorful euphemisms like 'cow dung' or even boring ones like 'crap.')" -- Maureen McHugh

I can do this. I'll report my progress, y'all.

Marching Band Season

That's right, I said it. Marching Band Season. Not Football Season. Marching Band.

Now I do like football. Wow. It's hard to believe that I just said that out loud. It sure did take me a while to come around. I mean I attended EVERY football game in high school, home and away, as a member of the band, of course. And I played four years in the band at Vanderbilt where we played all the home games + 1 or 2 away games. But it was not until my SENIOR YEAR in COLLEGE that I turned to the other brass players and said, "Can someone please explain to me WHAT is going on?" By the end of the season I could actually enjoy the game. I kept up with college ball over the couple of years, and then when I met my husband, he was able to take my game knowledge to whole new level.

But I LOVED playing in the band. I mean LOVE. Watching the band at the HS Football game tonight made it feel like fall had finally arrived. You could tell that this band was preparing for festival. The excitement as four minutes to go in the second quarter as they made final uniform and instrument adjustments was tangible. Everbody checks their fancy feathered hat. Unfortch, we were standing on the hill in the endzone on the visitors' side and I could only hear some of the percussion. But I could see the formations.

So afterwards I have the opportunity to talk to a parent from the school where my husband teaches, which is a private catholic high school. Nico wants go towards the field. He thinks that is the way home - he was so ready to leave! The woman says, I'm sure he wants to play football. I say, I'm hoping for the band. Her: Well, you'll have to pay extra tuition. Me: WHAT?!

Apparently, in the elementary schools, if you want to be in the band it is an extra $600 in tuition for the catholic elementary schools!?! The woman said she priced out private lessons for the WHOLE year and it would not have cost any more, plus you do not pay for the weeks you cannot make it. So, when the students get to high school, there aren't so many who have been in band, and not many want to start as newbies their freshman year. So the band is small. Unbelievable.

Maybe Schools with small bands should consider allowing community members to join in, like some universities do. I'd be happy to march in the band, and I could probably learn all my charts and drills more quickly than most of the students. Of course, that would make festival hard for them, but maybe there would be a way. I would love almost nothing more than the chance to march again.

I think tomorrow I need to play my horn for a little while. I know where it is, and I think I even know where the box with my music is. I need to keep up my skills, just in case! Who knows, maybe I will eventually be able to join a community band here!

Keep music in your life, y'all. It is never too late to take instrument or voice lessons and connect with creation through musical vibration. It's good for the soul.

The Da Vinci Code

So I read Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code over the weekend. I know, it is shocking that I have not read it before now. I saw the movie twice, and the end when he kneels at the site of the Grail is truly breathtaking. Tom Hanks rocks, of course.

Astonishingly, the Movie stayed very close to the book in plot, vocabulary and style. But there was some tweaking. The movie seemed to remove all true culpability from Opus Dei, and there was nothing about its status as personal prelature of the Pope being rescinded. Yet, the movie made people entirely VERY curious about Opus Dei.

The movie seems to have made people considerably less curious about the role of women in church and society.

This got me to wondering. There are positions, jobs, ministries, etc. that both men and women are physically capable of doing but women are not allowed to do. Are there any that Men would be physically capable of doing but are not allowed? I can not think of any off the top of my head, but maybe one will come to me.

National Day of Service and Remembrance

Do Unto Others

Did you know that today was the first federally recognized September 11 National Day of Service and Remembrance? I did not. I found out through FACEBOOK, thanks to a link from Vanderbilt:

Sept. 11 is National Day of Service and Remembrance

Vanderbilt University’s Office of Active Citizenship and Service encourages members of the Vanderbilt community to participate in service and volunteerism this weekend in observance of the first federally recognized September 11 National Day of Service and Remembrance.

Students who are already members of a student service organization on campus are encouraged to participate in their regular ongoing service activities. Students and Vanderbilt community members who would like to join the citywide effort are invited to participate in the opportunities listed below, hosted by OACS Community Partners: [Food Delivery for United Way, Documentary viewing and letter writing, Habitat for Humanity, Hands on Nashville, etc.]

That is something that I can support. Americans pulled together in active love and support of one another during that time of fear, crisis, and uncertainty. I lived in St. Louis eight years ago, and all regular air traffice was halted, but there is a military airfield nearby. I, too, remember cringing unintentionally at the sound of aircraft. I remember being scared. And I am sure that it was much worse for those close to the sites of destruction or who lost people they loved or knew.

But I do not understand why this day of remembrance must automatically gravitate towards a day of glorification for the military, like the Springfield Christian Music station is promoting. I'm not here to knock the military. I simply do not understand why so many Christians, in particular, cannot seem to view the use of force and violence as, at best, a necessary evil rather than as the hallmarks of heroism. Why am I asked to celebrate a day of great sadness with Patriotic Pomp and Circumstance?

Trust me, I am proud to be an American.

I am not always proud of how "we" have behaved, however. I am not always proud of the choices that Americans have made throughout history. I certainly do wish that our national heroes were modeled on servant leaders instead of "might makes right."

So please, join me in praying for a more just and merciful world. Find a way this week to serve others in honor of those who served then and in memory of those who died. Need ideas and inspiration? Try this website!

http://911dayofservice.org/

Checking it Out

Today was my first trip to the library in a long time. Nico was blessedly cooperative (although he is not so excited when I sit down to the computer to tell you all about it!). Honestly, I did not know how to find books I like any more. I hope that in time the public library will begin to feel like a familiar place again. So, Expect reviews of the books I read in the evening, dear hearts! The first reviews will probably need to be a little commentary on the Twilight series which I have ravenously devoured in multiple readings since May and am now trying to break from.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Ciao for Now!

Withdrawal

I LOVE Reading. I love it so much that sometimes it is painful.
First, I read too fast, and too obsessively. So if I want to check out a book from the library, I either have to find a book long enough to prevent my reading it all in one sitting or I have to get books in a series and get all of them. And sometimes I have no intention of actually staying up all night to finish a book, but once I enter the other Realm, time stands still.
I'm not kidding. When I am Off-World, people talk to me, I take phone calls, I walk and talk and interact, all without really being there. Out of body experience.
I do better on the 3rd and 4th reads of a book. Better about putting it down.

But what do I do when I have finished a book, or series in this case, and have nothing else to read (that isn't work reading) and am still kind of lost in the other Realm. If you have never experienced this, it feels like being homesick.

I am an addict.

For a while I gave up reading poetry and fiction because I finally admitted to myself that reading was interfering with my ability to be a human being on the planet earth. But I have taken it up again, recognizing that a reading me is the real me, but I am trying to find balance.

This agony feel sharper right now perhaps because the Realm has replaced good local friends of late. Moving preparations kept me too busy and created an inability to remain connected with people from whom I was about to be parted, and here in the new place I do not know anyone yet. Connection takes time.

So I will do two things, three will bring me into balance:
1. I will go the public library tomorrow and get a library card and come home with a book to read that is longish and that I have not read before and I will strive to read it judiciously.
2. I will throw myself into my work, which has too long sat fallow.
3. I will write more, blog, poetry, fiction.

Any other tips for book withdrawal are welcome, y'all!

All's Quiet...At Somebody Else's House

The Calm Before the Storm

The Breath Before the Plunge

It sounds tranquil, doesn't it?

And if you are lying in bed sleeping when the storm rolls up upon you, then maybe it is.

If you are dead, that is.

Because anyone who has prepared for a performance or trained for an athletic event will tell you that the last block of time of preparation is a frenzy of activity even when it looks methodical and meticulous to the outside observer. Even the last breath before going stage, entering the jury room, springing forth for dives or marathons and stepping onto the field of competition - that last breath is filled with all of the energy and purpose that will sustain you throughout the trial. The quality and energy of that breath is the hallmark of a virtuoso.

It reminds me of The Wizard of Oz. They know the storm is coming. The animals have sensed it, and then, when the people catch on, they run around securing what they can in the time allotted.

In a few moments, however, there will be at least a virtual calm before the storm of my move. As I pack "the last things" - which may well take all night - the computer must be powered down. Then it will be several days before we are on line again.

So stay tuned, y'all. And the most exciting part of my return will be that I won't be in packing frenzy anymore. Unpacking is like a treasure hunt! So here's to endings and beginnings and starting a new life! See you on the other side!

The Ugly Marigold: Miracles of Composting

When we bought the house we live in now, and that for only Eight More Days, there were two gnarly swaths of green in front of the house like Einstein Unibrows. The sidewalk and stairs shaved a path between the big green lumps that reached almost to the top of the porch rail and prevented you from seeing the front yard at all if you were sitting on the front porch to take in the evening air or usher in a rolling thunderstorm from the west.

Almost needless to say, they had to go.

And I say 'almost needless' because I did have a couple of people say that bushes look so nice in front of a house. Well, bushes might, but not shrubbery clearly under the influence of the Knights Who Say "Ni!". So one fine Spring day I sallied forth with a little handsaw wearing too much clothing for such beautiful weather. I spent the next 3-4 hours crawling under, cutting down and disentangling this series of overgrown, pesky bushes. At the end of it all, they were gone, sitting in front of the house to be chipped by the city clean-up folks, and my hair was full of spiders.

Left behind was earth full of roots and completely sapped of any nutrients at all. So began our efforts to rehabilitate this scraggly stretch of land. We compost, so we used our compost and some fresh dirt to fill in around the roots. At the end of the summer I threw out some seeds that my Mum had saved back from her flower garden. A few came up.

This spring we home mulched and pine-bark mulched and planted some flowers after installing new lattices. We planted a little early, but we were putting our house on the market and the barren scrag of land needed some love. Most of the flowers did fine, but you can tell that they are not planted in healthy soil.

ONE DAY, My husband comes inside and announces that a marigold from last year came up, but it was in a bad place and looked kind of awful, so he transplanted into a spot on the other side where it might get better sun and have more room. I looked it at, and indeed, it looked all crumpled. I doubted it was a marigold, but I could not figure out what it was, and my husband was convinced. So it grew and grew and frankly we forgot all about it.

Last week we were coming out of the house and my husband stopped me. Well, he said, I guess you were right. It is NOT a marigold.

It was now two feet high, green and leafy. I took a closer look.

AH HA!! I knew this plant looked familiar! Look at the tiny yellow flowers near the leaves on this branch here.

TOMATO.

We have a tomato plant in front of our house. We can't tell what type it is yet, and Lord knows if the seed came from our garden last year or from one that we bought. It must have stayed viable in our kitchen compost. Hopefully the new neighbors will enjoy it, whatever it is.

Women's Fertility Part 1

I thought I would get the word out of the way right up front:

Vagina.

And so as not to show any bias, let's hear it for the men, too: Penis.

Because this post is about fertility, the kind where it takes two to tango, you know what I mean.

Actually, you probably don't.

The probability is, based on the most very scientific method of polling nearly everyone I know, that you, whether you are a man or a woman, know very little about your own fertility. It is sad.

It seems like many know a little bit about women's periods. Bleed for 3-7 days, depending on the woman, and about 28 days after the first day of the period it starts all over again. Some women are tired and crampy beforehand and/or during, occasionally leading to general grouchiness.

Then there is the die-hard NFP crowd. NFP is Natural Family Planning. Now more sophisticated than simply counting days, this method teaches the woman to know her body's signs of fertile and infertile days, WHICH VARY WIDELY from woman to woman, from cycle to cycle, and are more subtle while breastfeeding. NFP also includes a charting method so that you can chart your cycle's variations and so that you can effectively communicate with your partner about it.

The problem with the NFP crowd is that they often scare off the more liberally-minded, and so all that good information about fertility that is very useful in communication and relationships is ignored by 9/10 of the population. This is awful. Why are women and men not given this information in science class?? It does not have to be about having or not having sex. Your hormones rage and your body responds. Fertility is for everyone.

Fertility awareness is important in order to be spiritually in tune your connection to the universe and in balance in your relationship with others.

So, get ready for the slimey details, y'all, literally. Stay tuned.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Just a week + final weekend is left here in the Q. The finality of our time here has begun to settle on me. I knew we might move away from here some day, but the whole path to our leaving has been difficult for us, our family, our friends. It is like a break-up. You love a person, but then when they reveal that they have no use for you, not only do you lose them, but it is as though your former desire to help and love them has been stolen from you too.

So when a student said to me, "Hey since Bill is gone you and Nico should come and eat in the caf with us next week because all the students will be back in town," I did not even think about my reply. The words were out of my mouth without pause: Oh No. No Way. [and then, gathering my wits] I mean, no, thank-you. That really is very kind, but I just couldn't. I hope you can understand."

Well, this little anthology pretty much sums up the rest of my feelings [Not my own vid, but it works!]:

20. The Break-up Song, Greg Kihn Band
19. Song for the Dumped, Ben Folds Five
18. End of the Road, Boyz II Men
17. Without You, Mariah Carey
16. Love Bites, Def Leppard
15. Breaking up is hard to do (slow), Neil Sedaka
14. Boys Don't Cry, The Cure
13. She Hates Me, Puddle of Mud
12. Don't Speak, No Doubt
11. The Time of Your Life, Green Day
10. Ain't No Sunshine, Bill Withers
9. Don't Dream It's Over, Crowded House
8. With or Without You, U2
7. These Boots are made for walking, Nancy Sinatra
6. Against All Odds, Phil Collins
5. Go Your Own Way, Fleetwood Mac
4. Love Stinks, J. Geils Band
3. I used to Love Her, Guns N Roses
2. You Oughtta Know, Alanis Morissette
1. I will Survive, Gloria Gaynor

These songs are hilarious, and I now feel significantly cheered. It is probably because I am thinking of Adam Sandler singing Love Stinks in The Wedding Singer, Which makes me think of the song "Somebody Kill Me" from the movie. Which probably is THE BEST BREAKUP SONG EVER! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Well, here it is: fair warning on the cursing in the song:



"He's Losing His Mind, and I'm reaping all the Benefits."

Onward, Ho, Y'all!

The Proper Time To Wake Up

It is dark.

No streetlights. New Moon. Cloudy.

Luckily I have Radar. Which, for the record, is entirely different than Gaydar, which I also have. But I digress.

I wend my way around through the house noiselessly, crawl into bed. I sleep.

Eventually I get up.

And I mean "eventually" in its best latinate sense - in response to an event.

Sometimes that event is enough light coming into to my room that my body becomes aware that I can now see to do everything around the house and outside that I need to do without the use of radar, x-ray vision, candles, torches, kitchen fires, oil lamps, or even those new-fangled electrical candle-things.

[I remember reading a british book once one of the characters went to the dentist and described the torch being put in his mouth. The image of a TORCH being shoved in someone's mouth at a dentist's office was so hilarious I nearly fell out of my chair. Now when I hear the word torch I still get tickled. And how about carrying a torch around in your boot? HAHAHAHA. (FYI In British English, Torch = Flashlight and Boot = Trunk of car)]

Anyhoo, sometimes the event that awakens me is "nature's call." Or else just being done with sleeping. Most often lately the event is Nico waking up. I now ignore his desire to get up if it is before 6:30, and most often it is right around seven, on great occasion it is as late as eight. Of course, once we are moved to Springfield, and Bill gets up around 6:30 or 7 to leave for work by 7:30 or so, who knows what our regular schedule will morph into. And don't we all sleep just a little more in the darker days of the year and a little less on the lighter days? And since we live at LL 39.79,-89.67, I can already tell that the days are getting a little shorter as the summer draws to an end.

[You can easily find Latitude and Longitude with Google Maps. right-click on any spot and choose "What's Here." Google places the LL coordinates into the search box!]

So these are the proper times to wake up. For me.

When I have an earlier job to get to, I go to bed in plenty of time to feel well rested, and on GREAT occaision might set a gentle radio alarm to assist me.

Over all, if you NEED an alarm, coffee, energy drink, cold shower, etc. to wake up for your day on a regular basis, you have poor sleep/eating/exercise habits and are probably grouchy, though no one will tell you.

Anyone who thinks that that they can do with only 4-5 hours of sleep without naps on a regular basis either spends a lot of time in the evenings secretly snoozing with a book or in front of the TV or they are so grouchy and ill-tempered that most people simply avoid them.

Call me if you need someone to tell you whether or not you are grouchy. I provide this service free of charge.

And let me review: Yes, I am more naturally a night owl, but I also believe firmly in getting enough sleep to be of sound mind and body as both a medical and moral necessity. So if I can get up a little later, I do, because I stay up later. Since I became pregnant, now two years ago, I am almost always awake and up around 7 am.

Why am I writing about this?

I have noticed that nearly EVERY time I call someone before 10 my time (US Central), that person says to me, "MY, you're up early."

Somewhere hidden in that comment is a little bit of condescension.

I am pretty sure that my Grandmother, God Bless Her, thought that 6 am was the only morally acceptable time to get up. Anything later perhaps showed a profound disrespect to the Creator.

But she isn't the only one. The Well-Meaning and Well-To-Do alike have their moral framework firmly ensconced in the notion that 6 am to rise and 6 pm to sup (or even 5) makes for a properly ordered universe. 3rd shift workers, would be out of luck, doomed to mediocrity for all time.

But I say, thank GOD for Sister Wendy Beckett. She is a contemplative nun who gets up very early, by 4 am I think. And she lives in England. So, basically, given the time difference, she is already up praying when I go to bed and she has been working and praying all day by the time I get up. I hope she prays for me while I sleep, and I pray for her while she sleeps and I am still up. Besides I figure that God might be a Night Owl and not get up until even 9 or ten, and if you pray too early then they are capably handed by whoever got stuck with morning duty, the saints taking it in turns.

So, Yes, I'm Up. And I'll go to bed eventually. May God Bless our Days and Nights!

Patron Saint of Packing and Moving

Saints are my thing.

So when I quipped that I was praying to the patron saint of packing, several people asked me who it was. My cousin wrote, "See, this is information a military spouse could use - I should build a shrine! Who, exactly, is the patron saint of packing?" And I had to respond, "Unfortch, I have yet to find a person specifically named - Joseph is patron saint of (among many others) houses, immigrants, laborers, travellers, and, well, dying people. That pretty much sums up packing, right?"

But it got me to thinking [ruh-roh!!].

Who could this saint be? Over all the centuries of moves and upheavals, no one has claimed a saint specifically for packing and moving? Don't get me wrong, Saint Josesph has been most attentive to our need for comfort and help while selling/buying our house. I daresay he is still busy watching over us because the dreaded process of working out all the details with the two closings on the same day and whatnot has not yet ended and there are only two weeks left! So, Fair Dues to Saint Joseph for his kindly and divine intervention!

And for the record, I DID buy a little statue of him, and I DID pray for his intercession, as did my husband (and Nico by his presence!). I also compiled a novena from various sources. However I did not bury him, though I have no specific objection to the burying of statues or medals as ritual process. And I certainly did NOT, in my prayer, bury him or hang him upside down and threaten to leave him that way until he had done my bidding. Please! I object strongly to such treatment of people and saints and their statues are no exception. That portion of the standard suggested prayer is an example of manipulative behaviour and I will not condone it. Yesh, you really have to be careful about the content of some of the prayers out there. Even some of the traditional ones, dare I say it, can promote ideas about God and humans that are best abandoned. Hmmm, seems like I should say more, so I'll come back to it in the future, y'all!

Anyhoo, I have been thinking about who the patron saint of moving a packing should/could be. And then I ran across this description of patron saints in the Catholic Encyclopedia:

"The beliefs of a Catholic in an age of Faith prompted him to place not only his churches under the protection of some illustrious servant of God, but the ordinary interests of life, his health, and family, trade, maladies, and perils, his death, his city and country....These patrons with very many others were chosen on account of some real correspondence between the patron and the object of patronage, or by reason of some play on words, or as a matter of individual piety. Thus, while the great special patrons had their clients all over Christendom, other patrons in regard of the same class of objects might vary with different times and places."

So I said to myself, We need a Patron Saint of Moving and Packing, y'all.

So might I propose Saint Frances Cabrini, first US citizen (naturalized) to be canonized (1946) ?

Excerpt from Find a Grave: "Finally the Bishop gave her permission to start an institute of missionary sisters. She took the name Frances Xavier Cabrini and was soon labeled "Mother" by her seven recruits. They took over an abandoned Franciscan friary. Here she drew up constitutions for the community. Their principal work was to be a Christian education of girls. The new order was called The Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart. She was asked by the Bishop if her community would go to America and help with the education of Italian immigrants who had migrated to America by the thousands. With six sisters she landed in New York on March 31, 1889. She founded a school at West Park, on the Hudson River. This was followed by many. The order was expanding rapidly. By 1907 the order had increased to over a thousand sisters in eight countries. In her lifetime she was to see sixty seven convents: free-schools, high schools, hospitals and other establishments."

See also http://saints.sqpn.com/saint-frances-xavier-cabrini/

Mother Cabrini certainly moved alot, and under trying circumstances and often ill health. Born July 15, 1850 in Italy, she died on Dec. 22, 1917 in Chicago, Cook County, Illinois. For her, packing and moving were never just chores but instead were simply part and parcel of the call of God to go and serve.

Our Moves can be like that, too. The job of moving not only serves the family or community in a direct way, but it is also the process of getting to the place we are next to called to serve, getting to the people who await us, following the will of God.

Mother Cabrini, pray for us. Pray for our packing and moving. Help us to see this work as Service, and while we prepare, help us to meditate and prepare ourselves for the tasks that God calls us to, for the people God calls us to love and serve. Amen.

Loveable Jews

Language is a beautiful thing.

I heard some snippet of an NPR piece where the speaker commented that the language and culture of people is so inextricably intertwined that one cannot begin to understand a situation [ie a local political situation where international interests are trying to throw their weight around, I thought] without learning the language. He did not say as much, but the person speaking almost seemed to be implying that this is, if not only, at least MORE true for tribal people, ie lesser people, whereas OUR language is more objective. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

American English, objective, I tell you, where does he get his jokes.

I have an Irish friend who, I thought for a while, was quite sympathetic towards Jews. In and of itself, this is not surprising as I am friendly with people of all sorts of religious backgrounds, practices, leanings, and beliefs. But most non-Jewish people I know are not so enthusiastic about their appreciation of Jewishness that they go around saying it all the time in everyday conversation.

As it turns out, of course, the differences in our pronounciation were the cause of some moments of hilarity when we discovered my miscomprehension.

Why, I wondered aloud to him, when you agree with me on some point, do you associate that with Jews? He was baffled, of course, not aware that he had been making such association. I said, well you always say "Fair Jews." What does that mean?

Yes. Fair Jews, those loveable Jews.

Of course what he was actually saying was "Fair DUES."

Now I have only ever heard DUES prounounced [duz]. For DUE, The OED (Oxford English Dictionary-LOVE IT!!!) has only [dju], which, a la Irish, sounds more like JEW than anything else. I am sure he also says Jewette (duet), but does he say Jewed (Dude)? Or Jewed Ranch (what kind of salad dressing is that?) ? Oh the possibilities for silliness are endless.

I did check the American Heritage Dictionary, which refuses to use IPA!?@, and they have [dyue] as a secondary pronunciation. I have not yet noticed anyone saying it, so I will have to add it to my list of words to ask people to say. [Some other words on the list are egg and leg(Chicagoans say ache and lake - hahahah!) and war (which I rhyme with lore but some St. Louisans rhyme with bar!)].

Oh, and love this quotation from the OED examples: 1879 HOWELLS L. Aroostook x, ‘Well’, observed the captain..with the air of giving the devil his due, ‘I've seen some very good people among the Catholics’.

Glad to hear it, Captain! And Jews are great, too, and fair!

Bed Sweet Bed

After being away from our house since early Tuesday morning, we returned last night like triumphant but travel-weary missionaries. Sleeping in three different beds while we were gone made for interesting nights. Why is it that the body is so very attuned to the same sleep accomodations. If you always sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag, there is a definite period of adjustment to sleeping in a bed, and vice versa. Even something simple like taking your own pillow with you, which I did not do this trip, can make all the difference. WHY IS THAT? Is our muscle memory so set in its ways?
The look of elation that crossed my son's face as he realised that we had pulled into our own driveway was heavenly. As he came into the house, he had a very large grin. The cats twirled about our ankles, happy to see us, and they even let *N pet them!
DH is in Springfield all week with teacher meetings and a first half-day of class on Friday.
I will be here, praying to the patron saint of packing.

Crunch, Crunch

This is the sound that the grass makes in Racine, Wisconsin. Imagine that the lush, green labyrinth above has been accidently washed on a bleach cycle and the colors have faded to three or four tones of beige and brown. The lake still laps gently on the edge of the motherhouse property but refuses the invitation to come up the bluff for a spot of afternoon tea. Swish, swish, swish.

Having come from "down-state" Illinois (ie I do not live in Chicago - even Rockford, IL is considered "down-state" - crazy Illinois people!), I certainly noticed this upon my arrival here because we have received our portion of rain plus theirs this summer. But I did not realize quite the impact it was having on the hearts of everyone local until after lunch today. At the beginning of the chapter's afternoon session, the facilitator from CommunityWorks announced that she had seen that it had begun to rain in earnest outside. An immediate applause broke out.

How precious is our water!

Newsflash: Babies are People.

I had every intention of posting today more of my thoughts of the idea of vocation, as a follow-up to yesterday's post, but I have decided to put that on hold for another time. Chapter gatherings are all about deep, meaningful, and consequential discussions and decision-making, so I am deep-thoughted out. Instead, let me comment on something that is a constant challenge in my life these days: Baby's Feet.

Okay, imagine this scenario. You are sitting in a coffee shop. You are gently sipping a mug of hot, frothy yum-yum, and holding the pages open of the book you are reading with the other. Adorable. The person passing by you on the way to the counter for an over-priced beverage of their own notices your lectionary bliss. So she reaches down and touches your feet. You pull them away, crying out "What?!" But such is her interest in your cuteness, lucky you, that she now proceeds to tickle your feet while saying, "Can I get a smile from you? Aww, come on, smile!" and then, noticing your frown, says, "Oh, are We feeling grouchy today?"

That is the situation faced by my 15mo EVERY DAY TIMES 50. He does not mind being touched in general. He likes people. But WHO likes to have their feet tickled, particularly by a stranger?!

Awkwardly this is one of those situations where the perpatrator of the crime, here unabash-ed foot-tickling, is well-meaning. And almost everyone does it. (Even when he is sleeping. Then they look at me and say, I just wanted to see him smile. Then they walk away and leave me with a crying baby who has been awoken and assaulted by a stranger and I still have most of my grocery shopping to do.) And I feel compelled to prevent it and protect my son from this annoying and fear-producing encounter, and potentially protect the tickler from my wrath, but it is difficult to find a way to do so politely. Any suggestions?

Priest Shortage is a Myth

I can see your hair catching fire.
Some of you are probably outraged that I would say that the priest shortage is a myth. Scandalized. Marshalling your arguments and statistics that show fewer priests since the fifties, that rattle the cages of the all the parents out there who are somehow, mysteriously, squishing the call of God right out of the thousands of boys who would otherwise be clamouring to Enlist with good 'ole Uncle ____ (hmm, Uncle Sam is taken, and rather Jewish [God Bless the Jews and Samuel the Prophet!] - So Uncle What? Uncle "Yes, Father"?).
Never mind the whole story of Jonah which illustrates that you cannot hinder the call of God once given. Never mind that it is GOD who does the CALLING. Never mind that the Many priests in one parish is actually the anomaly, if hundreds upon hundreds of years mean anything, and that the current decline in numbers is more accurately described by the concept of "market correction."
But actually I do not really mean it is a myth. After all a myth is a story told to explain the inexplicable that, while fictional in content, demonstrates the shared wisdom, truth, and values of the community to which the myth belongs. In other words, myths have a positive purpose directed toward knowledge and community cohesivenss. In Catholic theology, using these terms, the story of Jonah is a myth. It does not mean it is not real, and does prevent it from having happened, but it does assert that whether or not it happened is in some ways irrelevent, for the truth contained, the lessons for the community, are true either way.
The implications of focusing on the current situation of the church as "priest shortage", however, is not a myth. It demonstrates neither wisdom, truth, or shared values.

How do I know?

Because I have been an associate with the Racine Dominicans for several years. Their numbers are also declining. It is difficult to understand why. Some sisters at times feel discouraged. The need for a change in focus of long-term planning and community goals must shift to match the changing demographics.

BUT not one complaint of there being a sister shortage. Not one single mention of the lack of responsibility of parents and families and communities. Not one solitary insisting that a church or a family "cough up" the girls that are their due. Instead, RD's and other women's communities, too, are approaching things from two fronts. They are looking WITHIN, cleaning house, and constantly verifying [constant vigilance!] that their lives, individually and communally, are promoting their chosen community mission. Secondly, they are going on with the business of being Servants of Christ. In short, they are having faith, they are lifting their eyes up to the hills, whilst keeping their feet busy on the ground, instead of pointing their fingers at others.

This Year of the Priesthood (which actually begins with Advent, right?) is the perfect opportunity to honor the blessings for all of us that our priests embody and also to honor the rights and responsibilies of our own priesthood which we are called to through Baptism. Let us spend less time berating God and one another for not giving us what we think we need and more time being thankful for what we have and doing some "house cleaning" of our own so that we may be prepared to accept the people that GOD calls.

The Lord is kind and merciful, y'all!

It is no wonder that $1 = Two Bits These Days!

Moving Right Along
So we are preparing to move, and so of course we must deal with all of the pleasant and unpleasant tasks that come with that. Pleasant = Well, there are not really any pleasant moving tasks. Perhaps those of us in the world who really do actively combat Entropy (nerd much?) do achieve some sort of satisfaction from being able organize our little corner of the universe into boxes and reduce our waste by havind sorted through knick-knacks and old class notes from time immemorial. Okay, yes, that does give me some spark of satisfaction. But the rest blows.

Click Click.
It all started with his clicking shiny shoes. The man who came to give us an estimate on the cost to us for his company to move our goods. They were much too shiny and expensive, and when he is wearing the fine threads, you know that it is going to cost a pretty penny! He tells us all about the corporations and fine folks his company moves for, including the local hospital. After the walk through, he names an EXORBITANT price, and promotes his tarif as if it is some kind of official state rate. Never mind that it is SIX HUNDRED dollars more than what was quoted to us by another company out of Springfield. $600 more. Just think, every time the Hospital has to have something moved, they pay that ridiculous rate. And their new hires pay it. And Then We ALL pay FOR it in medical care costs.
I do not know what to do about these things of course, other than refuse his services. I certainly do not want to venture into the territory of being the, ahem, person who sends around the mass e-mails of outrage which amount to being little more than spam. A few family members and friends send me those e-mails, and I refuse to read them as well. I block them from my Facebook newsfeed.

Oh Hey! Vacay!
That's right, cats and kittens [nod to You Bet Your Garden host Mike McGrath], the little onion [zwieblein] is going on vacation. Now it is not a fancy vacation, more like a family retreat. I am an associate with the Racine Dominicans, and Chapter is at the motherhouse. My little family and I go up there for a few days each summer and spend time with the community. Please pray for us to have safe travels and for the RD's to have a fruitful Chapter.

In the Beginning, there was Breastfeeding

Put your left foot in...
I'd like to post every day. So I have been working on re-design of my layout to this flowering red design, and coming up with a writing plan. The more I write, the more I LOVE to write. Hopefully this will be a continuing trend. But I am still getting to know myself as an adult writer. I wrote all the time when i was a kid, and now that 'being like child' is more important to me than ever, I must find my writing voice again. AND it will hopefully have the added benefit of kickstarting my research work. So for a while I am might need to FORCE myself to write everyday, and this little blog will help me out! SO, I am going to be begin this enterprise by addressing a host of topics that have been on my mind.

Get ready for the N Word!
Nipple. There I said it. And now for some TMI. I have nipples. I know, it's true. You maybe are thinking that this would be an obvious statement, and so did I. Until I am in the hospital post-birth, trying to nurse my new baby, and my nipples are refusing to pop up like the nurse is saying should happen. Flat. Flat as a pancake. This nurse helps me to use a nipple shield, a clear, thin little silicon device that resembles the nipple of a baby bottle. My little man's powerful sucking action was able to achieve what mother nature could not - breaking the scar tissue (a genetic defect) that was turning my nipples into scared turtles. After several weeks I was, with a great amount of patience and perseverence on both our parts, able to wean him off of the shield and nursing progressed well after that. Although my let-down was never very much until several months down the road.
I have many other accomplishments in my life, academic, relationships, work, house. But successfully breastfeeding in a world that mainly discourages feels like one of my best successes. Encouraging breastfeeding is all the rage, of course, but it often amounts to just lip service. How can your doctor be said to be "promoting" BF when s/he also takes kickbacks and samples from formula companies and hands them to you while saying, "If you are worried your baby is not getting enough milk, just give him some formula." WHAT? That just starts a cycle of decline! AND it sends the message to the mother that she SHOULD be worrying about her baby not getting enough, never mind that Baby seems healthy and happy and thriving.

FORMULA COMPANIES are NOT humanitarian organizations, and don't forget it!

They are BIG BUSINESS. BIG BIG BIG BUSINESS. As such, it is their job to sell you their product, even and especially at the expense of something wholesome and healthy and natural that costs almost nothing monetarily. And they peddle the supposed 'convenience' and 'goodness' of their product with all the cunningness that they posess.

We must be just as resourceful, and just as unashamed of the choices that we make, even when they are counter-cultural.

More to come, y'all!

Tick Tock Tickkety-Tock

Time is winding down, my friends. Soon I will not live in Quincy, Illinois any longer. We are off to live in Springfield, Illinois, and DH and I both hope that we can stay there for a while. New Town, new house, new life.

I am beginning to feel a certain amount of Shock at the changes that are coming, and I know that the rest of this year is going to be filled with adapting to the life. For the first time since I graduated high school, my life will be ordered by a "regular schedule." Bill will work DAYS, M-F. I will be MAMA and Wife, and Theologian. We will have "Weekends" and summer vacation. I do not have much experience in this kind of life. It will be a learning curve.

I am a SAHM, a stay at home mother.

Weird.

I have not been very domestic in my marriage thus far, but I am trying to improve. For the new-to-us house we are buying a dishwasher, and I hope that this encourages me in my desires to be more domestic. I am learning to adjust to this new life and trying to shed that little bit of lingering guilt over all the things that my life 'could have been.'

So here's to the New [takes drink of water]. Just a few more weeks, and it will be a flurry of Family Retreat, packing, new job for DH, new house. And then settling in to being SAHM and Theologian - who starts and finishes her dissertation.

Dear Half-Blood Prince, Love, Half-Blood Italian

Well let's get the simple things out of the way first.

It was awesome. I went to the midnight opening, and except for the fact that I am now too old to pull all-nighters, it was a stitch to see with the enthusiastic crowd, most of whom were, *GASP* , half my age. [wailing and gnashing of teeth]
I intend to see it again, of course, this Tuesday, in fact, with Mum, who is coming to town from way down Georgia way, and husband. Need to make arrangements for tiny tot.
And I do not have the stamina for a real movie review. You know, name dropping of every single cast member by their real life muggle names. Critiquing of style, guessing at awards and money to be made.
I mean I already said that my overall review was, and I quote, "awesome."

But I have a few bones to pick.

WHAT THE HOODLE WAS THAT WHEAT FIELD SCENE!!

I mean, I get it. I was not the director. Nor the producer. Nor anyone associated professionally with the film. So just because I think that on my list of things not to cut was "You're Dumbledore's man through and through," and Veelaliciousness, and the scene with the Muggle PM, well I get it. I do not have a say.
And I noticed that Tonks looked... kind of awful. No explanations. And it was not my choice to have Luna episkey Harry's nose.
And even the changed beginning, with Harry picking up chicks. Fine. Whatever.

BUT Harry goes rushing into a wheatfield, Ginny races after him in her bath robe ? The BURROW IS SET AFLAME? THAT's ALL WE SEE OF FENRIR?

REALLY?

Honestly, I'll think I'll rummage in my bag for a piece of gum during that scene from now on. Just block it out. I demand an explanation!

And speaking of Ginny.
Why couldn't they just kiss after the Quidditch match?
Why is she in the room of requirement with him?
WE DO NOT get a first glimpse, unsuspecting, of the DIADEM!!

I understand when story lines must be left out or conflated in the interest of time and clarity. They couldn't really show all the lead up for the Vanishing cabinent reveal I suppose. But why did they completely change the plot lines for essential character development or future plot clues?? Why was Harry downstairs (in the clocktower and not the roof, mind you) just milling around, feeling confused about what to do, instead of frozen under the cloak of invisibility???

AND WHERE WAS THE BATTLE AT HOGWARTS ???

If they had ditched that stupid wheat field scene there would have been plenty of room for a really cool battle!

Can anyone explain it???

Never fear, I will content myself with the better-than-imagined eerie lake scene. *I* nearly died.
And yes, Slughorn was fab as was Dumbledore and Snape, of whom I really have always been a great fan.
My sister and I had a lively discussion after this book, I can tell you. She cursed Snape, understandably to be sure, but I had faith in him.

Still do.

Awesome things of the day

First, I have been inspired today by my sister's blog. It really is very fun, very fresh, great writing. Honestly it's hilarious, a high complement in my book. Here tis:

http://www.anglotastic.com/

Second, Pops Pizza, Quincy, IL. This is some of the best pizza anywhere, and I crave to go there. On Thursday night they have an awesome and affordable buffet, so we are for sure eating at Pops tonight!

Also, can I tell you how excited I am about the new Harry Potter movie!! Only a week away, witches and wizards! To get us in the mood, here is an awesome song by the Ministers of Magic.



My sister has told me about Harry and Potters, a Boston Group, and now I cannot wait to find them, too!

I hope you like the new layout!

Reading Notes

Bill and I started work hours for me last week. I try to go from around 8-2, and he looks after Nico. Nico comes to visit me from time to time, to check in, get a hug, snuggle and laugh. And then I go back at it.
I have books checked out that must go back to the library by the end of June. Out of eight, I now only have two left to take notes on. I will finish those by tomorrow, meeting my goal of a book a day for these books!
On tap after that is more of the same with a view to taking notes on the texts that I really need for the rest of the proposal. It is half done but needs some serious work. I also need to do some bibliography work this week because we are going to Saint Louis on Sunday and I have managed to arrange for two hours in the Library. I still think it is possible for me to then have the Proposal ready to send for review to my advisor by the end of June. Here goes!

Gife the Gift of Life

My primary thought this evening is thankfulness.

I am thankful to be living.

I gave blood for the first time today since I got pregnant. Nico just turned one, and I could finally answer that I had not had a blood transfuion in the last twelve months. My recovery was long and much too secret - not by choice but more due to the seclusion that fatigue and disability naturally engender. But the joy that has been the result is palpable, and I am so thankful for the life that I have - all of it.

2009 A New Year!

I never thought I could be so happy, until I held my baby boy in my arms.
I experience that same boundless love just thinking about him. And more importantly, the experience of that love has made me realize that I have really been missing out in the love department. Now that I have felt it, I know that I can have that same love, that same determination for good in many areas. I never thought that I could learn to love myself, but I finally have. I want to keep working on being healthy and happy, on forgiving others and myself, on being truly kind but also assertive.

This past year has been a tough one: difficult birth and recovery, stalled projects, stalled weightloss, deaths, divorce and growing pains in various relationships.
And yet there has been great joy and discovery, and above all great faith. Faith in God, faith in myself, other's faith in me and in their own lives.
But here I am now, feeling blessed and lifted up. Feeling more loved and loving now than ever before, feeling divine empowerment even in the midst of a troubled world and an uncertain future.

My God, my God, you have not forsaken us!

Blessings to all in the new year!

Happy New Year, Y'all!
I am indeed glad that this New Year has begun, but I am also a little fearful. This is the year of my dissertation, after all. It is a huge project. Clearly I need a plan to break it down (Break it down?! This is hand-carved mahogany! -Emperor's New Groove, Kronk). Tomorrow I will do the following for the dissertation:

1. Read the Kleinklausz (sp) book so that it can go back to the library on Monday;
2. Start getting a handle on where I am at with my bibliography and books I have out and files of articles and reading notes, etc.

If DS naptime works out I might also go in the morning to a playgroup, mostly because I could really stand to get out of the house!

Also, I will continue my New Year's Cleaning project around the house.

I am praying for DH while he is in Haiti (10 more days until he arrives home).