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!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
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!]:
"He's Losing His Mind, and I'm reaping all the Benefits."
Onward, Ho, Y'all!
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
"He's Losing His Mind, and I'm reaping all the Benefits."
Onward, Ho, Y'all!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
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.
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!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, August 17, 2009
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!
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!
Monday, August 10, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, August 7, 2009
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!
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!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
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?
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?
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
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!
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!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, August 3, 2009
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!
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!
Sunday, August 2, 2009
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.
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.
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