I’m starting to get the sense that 2009 wants to finish me off before it dies of old age. A calendrical unit yelling "I’m taking you with me, you bastard!" from its vanishing final paper bunker marked December, every spent day a room deleted from the structure until 2009 is finally huddled in one small box marked 31 and screaming obscenities in stark terror.
Warren Ellis, from his blog.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Oh one last thought for 2009
In the car this weekend when we went to see a movie while my mother-in-law watched the kids, we were talking about Mike's brothers and their girls (one is married, one is soon to be). And it's interesting to watch them because both brothers and both girls have several things in common with Mike and with me, respectively. There are bits of us there. And in a pause in the conversation Mike suddenly said, "I'm incredibly happy with the person you've become now."
That will keep me going for a good 5 months or so, don't you think?
That will keep me going for a good 5 months or so, don't you think?
2009 The Year in Review
Why bother. I will go ahead and just say it. This year sucked for us. 2000 wasn't much of a picnic, and 2006 was tumultuous, but this year. Oy vey what a year.
In January, I went to see the eagles. Then, nicely according to schedule, I had a baby. Here are a few pictures. I went home and Maeve had a seizure on Mike's birthday.
February brought ups and downs. One of my girl scouts' mothers bought 1000 boxes of cookies. I was very tired because Leo didn't tolerate caffeine. I wrote some last lines on entries about Maeve that make me cry when I read them now. She had an EEG. She had an MRI. We got to know Leo.
The cookie war continued in March. I got thrush. Thrush. Quickly--Steve and Mary got married on a Friday in Lent and Mike marched in the St. Pat's Parade the next day. I made a baby quilt.
In April, Maeve was cleared of all wrong doing (yeah, as if). I made an Easter banner. My grandmother visited. I got thrush again. Leo and Maeve got coughs. I lost Maeve in a bookstore and Leo went to a chiropractor (which he actually really needed). I began to realize Sophia really had a reading problem.
Sophia celebrated her first communion in May. Maeve went on prednisone for asthma. Leo's doctor didn't quite use the words "failure to thrive" but implied that we'd better get back on the growth chart. We visited Rock Eddy. And Leo was baptized.
June brought many small things that sucked. The list is here. But I made myself make a list of things that did not suck, here. Sophia got a school dress. We got ready to go camping. And we camped. And we camped. And we camped and camped. Then the air conditioning broke, and then got fixed sort of.
In July we went to Colorado. I had many favorite moments. The AC died forever. More importantly and sadly, Sophia's godfather's brother died for real. And my grandmother miraculously did not. Sophia placed 3rd in her jig. I got tired of summer
In August I took a few pictures of shut-ins for the parish. I did some canning. I proved I was not a farmer. I visited my grandmother and thought about death. I found a new doctor. I took Maeve to the doctor. And I started to feel better for the first time in 7 years or so. We took Riverfront Trail.
In September, I went to Greg's funeral. And here. And then Mike's Uncle Tom died. And Dara got sick all over the kitchen floor and we had to tear it up. What a mess.
In October, Maeve made me feel old. We went to a dyslexia specialist for Sophia's testing. I learned how to camp the girl scout way. I got sick on vicodin. And I bought new shoes.
November started with a rundown of Halloween. I had to let some things go with Sophia (things I have since reconciled in my head again). I decided not to switch schools midstream for Maeve. Girl Scout crazies continued unabated. Dara died. I came to a turning point (maybe) in my tolerance for crazy church meetings. I started feeding a stray cat. And I helped feed the homebound in my parish.
December made the van act up (but we're gonna make it...). I took the girl scouts camping. And suddenly it was Christmas.
That's all for this year. We're back in town and going to coast into 2010 with the whispered prayer that it will be uneventful. Please.
In January, I went to see the eagles. Then, nicely according to schedule, I had a baby. Here are a few pictures. I went home and Maeve had a seizure on Mike's birthday.
February brought ups and downs. One of my girl scouts' mothers bought 1000 boxes of cookies. I was very tired because Leo didn't tolerate caffeine. I wrote some last lines on entries about Maeve that make me cry when I read them now. She had an EEG. She had an MRI. We got to know Leo.
The cookie war continued in March. I got thrush. Thrush. Quickly--Steve and Mary got married on a Friday in Lent and Mike marched in the St. Pat's Parade the next day. I made a baby quilt.
In April, Maeve was cleared of all wrong doing (yeah, as if). I made an Easter banner. My grandmother visited. I got thrush again. Leo and Maeve got coughs. I lost Maeve in a bookstore and Leo went to a chiropractor (which he actually really needed). I began to realize Sophia really had a reading problem.
Sophia celebrated her first communion in May. Maeve went on prednisone for asthma. Leo's doctor didn't quite use the words "failure to thrive" but implied that we'd better get back on the growth chart. We visited Rock Eddy. And Leo was baptized.
June brought many small things that sucked. The list is here. But I made myself make a list of things that did not suck, here. Sophia got a school dress. We got ready to go camping. And we camped. And we camped. And we camped and camped. Then the air conditioning broke, and then got fixed sort of.
In July we went to Colorado. I had many favorite moments. The AC died forever. More importantly and sadly, Sophia's godfather's brother died for real. And my grandmother miraculously did not. Sophia placed 3rd in her jig. I got tired of summer
In August I took a few pictures of shut-ins for the parish. I did some canning. I proved I was not a farmer. I visited my grandmother and thought about death. I found a new doctor. I took Maeve to the doctor. And I started to feel better for the first time in 7 years or so. We took Riverfront Trail.
In September, I went to Greg's funeral. And here. And then Mike's Uncle Tom died. And Dara got sick all over the kitchen floor and we had to tear it up. What a mess.
In October, Maeve made me feel old. We went to a dyslexia specialist for Sophia's testing. I learned how to camp the girl scout way. I got sick on vicodin. And I bought new shoes.
November started with a rundown of Halloween. I had to let some things go with Sophia (things I have since reconciled in my head again). I decided not to switch schools midstream for Maeve. Girl Scout crazies continued unabated. Dara died. I came to a turning point (maybe) in my tolerance for crazy church meetings. I started feeding a stray cat. And I helped feed the homebound in my parish.
December made the van act up (but we're gonna make it...). I took the girl scouts camping. And suddenly it was Christmas.
That's all for this year. We're back in town and going to coast into 2010 with the whispered prayer that it will be uneventful. Please.
Ten on Tuesday: 10 New Year's Resolutions
Some ideas. I don't know if I'll do them but some ideas.
1. I resolve to let you into my lane. There is no reason to pretend the road is a racetrack.
2. I resolve to let you sleep on my bedroom floor or in the guest room if you're scared upstairs.
3. I resolve to always wave when you let me into your lane.
4. I resolve to not pretend to still be sleeping when the kid upstairs calls for me and makes you go get her instead.
5. I resolve to spend less time online and more time in your life.
6. I resolve to get your reading skills where they need to be.
7. I resolve to figure out the internet service conundrum in my house.
8. I resolve to get the girl scout training I need to do what we want to do.
9. I resolve to not let the two or three thorns in my side drag me down.
10. I resolve to be reasonably happy this year.
1. I resolve to let you into my lane. There is no reason to pretend the road is a racetrack.
2. I resolve to let you sleep on my bedroom floor or in the guest room if you're scared upstairs.
3. I resolve to always wave when you let me into your lane.
4. I resolve to not pretend to still be sleeping when the kid upstairs calls for me and makes you go get her instead.
5. I resolve to spend less time online and more time in your life.
6. I resolve to get your reading skills where they need to be.
7. I resolve to figure out the internet service conundrum in my house.
8. I resolve to get the girl scout training I need to do what we want to do.
9. I resolve to not let the two or three thorns in my side drag me down.
10. I resolve to be reasonably happy this year.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A Haunting at Christmas
At Christmas mass, I wound up in the back with Leo. Typical, and after the homily, I ducked into the little vestibule we use as a sort of cry-room. There are baby gates set up now, which are wonderful, the ones with the door that swings shut. You could bring 2 year olds in there now and let them run around without having to chase them down the aisles. But it doesn't feel so separated and sterile as the glassed-in cry rooms with speakers piping in the words.
Being Catholic, I know the mass by heart. I didn't catch every word of the Eucharistic prayer, for instance, but I could follow along. I thought about many things as I stared up at the carved cherub faces that once looked down on a baptismal font in this little side room. I thought about ritual and the human need for it. I thought about the words I could hear. About how these things develop and change with time from Christ sitting around a table with his closest friends to now. How strange human beings are. Leo's breathing got regular and a deep peace settled over me as I started thinking about how many babies must have been baptized in this room. What a happy thought of pretty babies in their long white dresses. Priest, prophet, and king. Chrism oil. I thought about a woman at church who was baptized in this room, the one who first pointed out to me that this room had once been a baptistry. The window of Christ's baptism in the Jordan right above the spot where the marble font had once stood. And immediately after that flash, a shiver.
It's involuntary, this creepy feeling I've had in church lately. I come up to church with my kids to quickly set things up, but I rarely make it up there alone these days. When I do, it is hard to be there. I find myself planted to the floor in the back, where the light is on, almost unable to walk up into the darkness to the sacristies to turn on other lights. On Saturday I ran up to get a directory so we could call Doug and sing to him on his cell phone, home in South Dakota, and it was overwhelming to be in church alone. I don't know what it is. I don't want to say haunted but that's how it feels. Which is weird because birth and death happen in that place all the time--baptisms and funerals, weddings, celebrations of all sorts, and it's never bothered me until this fall. One night a few years back a young man was shot outside his house and instead of using a funeral home, the family had his body stay in this very vestibule overnight. In a casket of course, not like laid out on a couch or something, but that didn't bother me at all. Dead people, for the most part, don't bother me. So it's not just that. But it's something of late.
The shiver and thinking about the woman in my parish immediately made me think about her son, who committed suicide this past summer. Was that it? Was Greg's death somehow bothering me? It was so absolutely sad, of course, and the funeral wasn't any sort of relief. The homily was grim and everything was hopeless. But I didn't even know Greg that well. I taught him for two years, but it had been a long time ago and we hadn't spoken for more than to say hello in a long time. But that's the first thought that came to mind as I shivered, and on reflection, I realized I'd had him on my mind a lot as I opened doors in this church lately. Some sort of strange trepidation that made no sense.
And then a strange thing happened. Staring up at those cherubs, listening to Fr. John lead us into the Lord's Prayer, I had this sense that everything was just fine. That it was ok. It was ok to be there. Those words were in my mind, not like a hallucination kind of "the voices are talking to me" way, but in my own voice. I thought, "it's ok to be here now." And it did feel ok. It felt like I'd sat back there for hours rocking Leo as he slept, but it had been just a few minutes. All these thoughts ran through my mind and then the conclusion came to me. It's ok to be here. Rabbi, it is good that we are here!
I heard people start to get up for communion, and I rose from the rocking chair to go as well. My mother met me at the baby gate and took Leo so I could head up front. The aisle, which slopes down ever so slightly towards the front, was easy to slip down. Glide. I slipped back into the pew, where Maeve was sleeping in a heap of coats, and listened to the meditation after communion. Everything was back together again. We sang Joy to the World, like we always do at the end of the midnight (well, 10 p.m.) mass, and headed out into the windy wet night together.
Being Catholic, I know the mass by heart. I didn't catch every word of the Eucharistic prayer, for instance, but I could follow along. I thought about many things as I stared up at the carved cherub faces that once looked down on a baptismal font in this little side room. I thought about ritual and the human need for it. I thought about the words I could hear. About how these things develop and change with time from Christ sitting around a table with his closest friends to now. How strange human beings are. Leo's breathing got regular and a deep peace settled over me as I started thinking about how many babies must have been baptized in this room. What a happy thought of pretty babies in their long white dresses. Priest, prophet, and king. Chrism oil. I thought about a woman at church who was baptized in this room, the one who first pointed out to me that this room had once been a baptistry. The window of Christ's baptism in the Jordan right above the spot where the marble font had once stood. And immediately after that flash, a shiver.
It's involuntary, this creepy feeling I've had in church lately. I come up to church with my kids to quickly set things up, but I rarely make it up there alone these days. When I do, it is hard to be there. I find myself planted to the floor in the back, where the light is on, almost unable to walk up into the darkness to the sacristies to turn on other lights. On Saturday I ran up to get a directory so we could call Doug and sing to him on his cell phone, home in South Dakota, and it was overwhelming to be in church alone. I don't know what it is. I don't want to say haunted but that's how it feels. Which is weird because birth and death happen in that place all the time--baptisms and funerals, weddings, celebrations of all sorts, and it's never bothered me until this fall. One night a few years back a young man was shot outside his house and instead of using a funeral home, the family had his body stay in this very vestibule overnight. In a casket of course, not like laid out on a couch or something, but that didn't bother me at all. Dead people, for the most part, don't bother me. So it's not just that. But it's something of late.
The shiver and thinking about the woman in my parish immediately made me think about her son, who committed suicide this past summer. Was that it? Was Greg's death somehow bothering me? It was so absolutely sad, of course, and the funeral wasn't any sort of relief. The homily was grim and everything was hopeless. But I didn't even know Greg that well. I taught him for two years, but it had been a long time ago and we hadn't spoken for more than to say hello in a long time. But that's the first thought that came to mind as I shivered, and on reflection, I realized I'd had him on my mind a lot as I opened doors in this church lately. Some sort of strange trepidation that made no sense.
And then a strange thing happened. Staring up at those cherubs, listening to Fr. John lead us into the Lord's Prayer, I had this sense that everything was just fine. That it was ok. It was ok to be there. Those words were in my mind, not like a hallucination kind of "the voices are talking to me" way, but in my own voice. I thought, "it's ok to be here now." And it did feel ok. It felt like I'd sat back there for hours rocking Leo as he slept, but it had been just a few minutes. All these thoughts ran through my mind and then the conclusion came to me. It's ok to be here. Rabbi, it is good that we are here!
I heard people start to get up for communion, and I rose from the rocking chair to go as well. My mother met me at the baby gate and took Leo so I could head up front. The aisle, which slopes down ever so slightly towards the front, was easy to slip down. Glide. I slipped back into the pew, where Maeve was sleeping in a heap of coats, and listened to the meditation after communion. Everything was back together again. We sang Joy to the World, like we always do at the end of the midnight (well, 10 p.m.) mass, and headed out into the windy wet night together.
All I Did (this week)
This whole week was spent drinking coffee or alcohol and going to church. I spent Saturday morning delivering Christmas boxes at church, and then getting the trees with Doug for decorating. Sunday was Christmas decorating at church and sewing.
Monday, I went to church to water poinsettias and spent a brief moment in the silence after the task was done. Something about the church the last few months has really bothered me when I'm alone, which wasn't true before. Maybe I need to spend more time there and get comfortable again. I don't want to say haunted but that's how it feels right now.
Monday night I went to mah jongg and drank pomegranate and vodka martinis and also this boozy ice cream concoction that would be easy to get really drunk and really sick on. Really. Spent a lovely evening with friends. I love how this has happened.
Tuesday we went to a movie with the neighbors and Mike worked late. We had more deer stew, the same sort of recipe as before, with a whole dang bottle of white wine poured in. My goodness that is good stuff.
Wednesday I went to coffee at Janet's house and got all teary when Ann started talking about how grateful she was for our weekly coffee. I feel that same way and then it's too late to articulate it because I'm going to cry if I say more than "me too" but oh well.
Wednesday was also the morning we went out to see the psychologist who tested Sophia. The low down? "Moderate to severe dyslexia and dysgraphia" with 4 pages of recommendations in the language required to write a 504 plan. Funny, but it wasn't depressing at all. Maybe because dyslexia brings negatives and positives as well. Maybe because we know so many dyslexic people who have managed. Maybe because I know we're already working on it.
We went to lunch and then got home in the nick of time for piano lessons. I bought buttons for Bevin's shawl (which turned out fabulous!) and then, again, went to church. I led an advent prayer vespers of sorts. In heels because I was heading out from there to my parents' Christmas party. It was smaller this year than previously because it was a Wednesday instead of a Friday, but very nice as always. Bourbon slush but not as much as many of the people around me, it seemed. Met Elliot's new girlfriend. Had Yen's egg rolls. Laughed and laughed at my sisters as they slowly got much drunker than I did. My grandmother came, although she can't feel her feet due to the antibiotics she was on all summer and into the autumn. But she was lucid and strong and I am convinced she's beaten this thing. My cousin Joe wasn't in town--he arrived Christmas day this year, alas--but there were people enough to go around. Talked to my uncle Patrick, my godfather, who admitted he was dyslexic. Sophia had no chance.
Thursday, Christmas Eve, I woke up at 8 and went to church with a hangover. Dang it. I had coffee and then wine, which was described as "breakfast wine" because it was so sweet. Somehow along the way I switched from koolaid-for-grownups sweeter is better kind of wine drinker to oaky oaky peppery red wine. I don't know how that happened. But I sipped politely and then went back to the coffee. Oh! We were making meals for the homebound. It is one of my favorite things I do at St. Pius. Mary and Ann and Sr. Dorothy and all these other people--Doug of the pumpkin pie fame wasn't there, but with his family in South Dakota. So we called him on his cell phone and sang "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" while Tom played on the harmonica. That sort of thing. You know, community.
At home, wrapping and sewing awaited. Coffee. Leftovers for dinner to clear them out of the house. Then back to my parents house for more slush before church.
Mass was wonderful and felt more like a reward than usual on Christmas--most of the time I'm running lists down in my head and already moving forward to the next thing. This year I sat in front until Leo decided to make noise (joyful, but still). I walked around in back so I could listen to the homily, and then went into the Utah Vestibule (so named because it's on the Utah Street side of the building) to nurse Leo and rock him to sleep. I turned off the lights and turned on a little lamp they've put in there. Cozy and dark. More on that later (next post).
After mass, we went back to my parents' house for presents and then home by 1:15 in the morning. Girls went to bed and I went to work--I still had sewing to finish, insane, and Santa had to come. I got to bed at 3:30 and Sophia started making impatient visits to our room at 6:30. I couldn't believe how tired I was. It was Christmas morning, holy cow.
We were all up before 8 and girls opened presents. Then we cleaned up the house a bit (kitchen!) and packed as methodically as I could manage. Got out the door into the WIND AND SNOW at 10:15. We didn't get to Cairo until just after 1:00 due to the weather. The bridges were all ice and it was slow going. Even due to this, I was so exhausted I fell asleep in the front seat while Mike drove. Came inside his parents' house, opened a bottle of cabernet and drank the whole thing minus one glass for my sister-in-law. Intense exhaustion, as always on Christmas. Leo would not nap. There were so many people here, and Mike's aunt was in a car wreck (she fell asleep while SHE drove) and broke her pelvis in 3 places. She's still in the hospital while they decide what's going to happen. There but for the grace of God, you know? Mike and I easily could have gone off I-55 on the way down to Cape.
I got Leo to sleep finally around 9 Christmas night. I fell asleep next to him and slept in until 11:30 this morning. I have a Christmas hangover that was helped by a great deal of coffee this morning. Church, caffeine, and alcohol. All week long.
Monday, I went to church to water poinsettias and spent a brief moment in the silence after the task was done. Something about the church the last few months has really bothered me when I'm alone, which wasn't true before. Maybe I need to spend more time there and get comfortable again. I don't want to say haunted but that's how it feels right now.
Monday night I went to mah jongg and drank pomegranate and vodka martinis and also this boozy ice cream concoction that would be easy to get really drunk and really sick on. Really. Spent a lovely evening with friends. I love how this has happened.
Tuesday we went to a movie with the neighbors and Mike worked late. We had more deer stew, the same sort of recipe as before, with a whole dang bottle of white wine poured in. My goodness that is good stuff.
Wednesday I went to coffee at Janet's house and got all teary when Ann started talking about how grateful she was for our weekly coffee. I feel that same way and then it's too late to articulate it because I'm going to cry if I say more than "me too" but oh well.
Wednesday was also the morning we went out to see the psychologist who tested Sophia. The low down? "Moderate to severe dyslexia and dysgraphia" with 4 pages of recommendations in the language required to write a 504 plan. Funny, but it wasn't depressing at all. Maybe because dyslexia brings negatives and positives as well. Maybe because we know so many dyslexic people who have managed. Maybe because I know we're already working on it.
We went to lunch and then got home in the nick of time for piano lessons. I bought buttons for Bevin's shawl (which turned out fabulous!) and then, again, went to church. I led an advent prayer vespers of sorts. In heels because I was heading out from there to my parents' Christmas party. It was smaller this year than previously because it was a Wednesday instead of a Friday, but very nice as always. Bourbon slush but not as much as many of the people around me, it seemed. Met Elliot's new girlfriend. Had Yen's egg rolls. Laughed and laughed at my sisters as they slowly got much drunker than I did. My grandmother came, although she can't feel her feet due to the antibiotics she was on all summer and into the autumn. But she was lucid and strong and I am convinced she's beaten this thing. My cousin Joe wasn't in town--he arrived Christmas day this year, alas--but there were people enough to go around. Talked to my uncle Patrick, my godfather, who admitted he was dyslexic. Sophia had no chance.
Thursday, Christmas Eve, I woke up at 8 and went to church with a hangover. Dang it. I had coffee and then wine, which was described as "breakfast wine" because it was so sweet. Somehow along the way I switched from koolaid-for-grownups sweeter is better kind of wine drinker to oaky oaky peppery red wine. I don't know how that happened. But I sipped politely and then went back to the coffee. Oh! We were making meals for the homebound. It is one of my favorite things I do at St. Pius. Mary and Ann and Sr. Dorothy and all these other people--Doug of the pumpkin pie fame wasn't there, but with his family in South Dakota. So we called him on his cell phone and sang "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" while Tom played on the harmonica. That sort of thing. You know, community.
At home, wrapping and sewing awaited. Coffee. Leftovers for dinner to clear them out of the house. Then back to my parents house for more slush before church.
Mass was wonderful and felt more like a reward than usual on Christmas--most of the time I'm running lists down in my head and already moving forward to the next thing. This year I sat in front until Leo decided to make noise (joyful, but still). I walked around in back so I could listen to the homily, and then went into the Utah Vestibule (so named because it's on the Utah Street side of the building) to nurse Leo and rock him to sleep. I turned off the lights and turned on a little lamp they've put in there. Cozy and dark. More on that later (next post).
After mass, we went back to my parents' house for presents and then home by 1:15 in the morning. Girls went to bed and I went to work--I still had sewing to finish, insane, and Santa had to come. I got to bed at 3:30 and Sophia started making impatient visits to our room at 6:30. I couldn't believe how tired I was. It was Christmas morning, holy cow.
We were all up before 8 and girls opened presents. Then we cleaned up the house a bit (kitchen!) and packed as methodically as I could manage. Got out the door into the WIND AND SNOW at 10:15. We didn't get to Cairo until just after 1:00 due to the weather. The bridges were all ice and it was slow going. Even due to this, I was so exhausted I fell asleep in the front seat while Mike drove. Came inside his parents' house, opened a bottle of cabernet and drank the whole thing minus one glass for my sister-in-law. Intense exhaustion, as always on Christmas. Leo would not nap. There were so many people here, and Mike's aunt was in a car wreck (she fell asleep while SHE drove) and broke her pelvis in 3 places. She's still in the hospital while they decide what's going to happen. There but for the grace of God, you know? Mike and I easily could have gone off I-55 on the way down to Cape.
I got Leo to sleep finally around 9 Christmas night. I fell asleep next to him and slept in until 11:30 this morning. I have a Christmas hangover that was helped by a great deal of coffee this morning. Church, caffeine, and alcohol. All week long.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Words
I like words. I like to read them and write them. I especially like them where I don't expect them--like in quilts and prints and photos and mittens. I like graffiti that says something, even. I like pouring over words in novels and the bible. I love rereading handwritten letters and notes. Music moves me but usually because of the words--melody is always secondary.
Just the cozy thoughts I was having on the way home from the pharmacy this afternoon.
Just the cozy thoughts I was having on the way home from the pharmacy this afternoon.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Christmas Decorating Yay
St. Pius is ready for Christmas. We decorated the church today, which had new snags--there are always snags--but also new people who came to assist. That was so nice, really, because I've had a hard time meeting new people and recalling their names later and being one of the "old" members of the parish. Which I am now, I've realized.
The trees didn't match for up by the altar, but we made due. The thorn in my side pointed it out to me after we'd finally decided on where everything should go: "The trees don't match."
"Oh, they never match," I sighed. I didn't let her get to me. She did her jobs, I did mine. Which of course were mostly walking around looking like I had a job to do. I mean, I order the stuff, I count the stuff, I assign the stuff. Other people climb ladders and hang things and put lights up. I'm blessed that way because otherwise I'd be up on that scary ladder trying to hang those wreaths.
I was talking with some folks about past years--I've been decorating church as long as I've been writing here--and here are the links to the reviews of the past few years:
2008
2007
2006 and here and here and here
Now I'm worn out. It's already almost 4 in the afternoon and I know I can't nap. Neither should I attempt to drink coffee. I have sewing to do but that's crazy talk. Maybe a glass of wine. I also have fudge, cookies, and a gingerbread house to make. I do love Christmas but wow it wears me out.
The trees didn't match for up by the altar, but we made due. The thorn in my side pointed it out to me after we'd finally decided on where everything should go: "The trees don't match."
"Oh, they never match," I sighed. I didn't let her get to me. She did her jobs, I did mine. Which of course were mostly walking around looking like I had a job to do. I mean, I order the stuff, I count the stuff, I assign the stuff. Other people climb ladders and hang things and put lights up. I'm blessed that way because otherwise I'd be up on that scary ladder trying to hang those wreaths.
I was talking with some folks about past years--I've been decorating church as long as I've been writing here--and here are the links to the reviews of the past few years:
2008
2007
2006 and here and here and here
Now I'm worn out. It's already almost 4 in the afternoon and I know I can't nap. Neither should I attempt to drink coffee. I have sewing to do but that's crazy talk. Maybe a glass of wine. I also have fudge, cookies, and a gingerbread house to make. I do love Christmas but wow it wears me out.
Happy Moment
I went to the Fox tonight to see White Christmas. Great fun. Awesome sets and costumes. But the happy moment? While getting ready I pulled out a pair of pants from the closet I hadn't worn since before I got pregnant with Leo--a size smaller than what I've been in since March--and they went on just fine. There are so many reasons why it was a good day. But this was a really good one.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wayne: Wire
For Wayne.
There is wire in the sacristy. I hope it works. Call if it doesn't.
Bridgett
(for everyone else: More brilliant writing and anecdotes to come. But not tonight).
There is wire in the sacristy. I hope it works. Call if it doesn't.
Bridgett
(for everyone else: More brilliant writing and anecdotes to come. But not tonight).
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Our Camping Trip: Saturday
Saturday for the average girl went well. Hikes, ojo de dios "God's Eyes" projects, they learned about Morse code and made Morse code bracelets and necklaces with beads and wire. More hikes after lunch--we found a geocache on Frontier Mountain--and when we got back there was an unknown car in the parking spot. I wondered aloud who it could be and Rita said, "It's Little and her mom." I looked at Rita and asked her how she could know that. She just shrugged. "She said she was coming Saturday." Well then. It WAS Little and her mother, Bethany.
And it was just like how I thought it would be. Little sat with Bethany and made bracelets with beads and wire. Didn't mesh with the other girls at all. I put Leo down for a nap (yay!) and came out to do hospitality with them (I wasn't going to just pretend they weren't there and go chat with folks I liked better...I know she tried to rip me a new one on the phone in October but I was going to be nice).
The conversation turned to the parish school. You know, the one Sophia doesn't go to? I don't have anything against it, but I know I've chosen the better place where we are. We may one day wind up at my parish school. But as a parent I know our school is the most Catholic school I could find--in the ways that are important to me--and not Catholic in the ways that aren't important to me. I know it's a charter montessori and a public school--someone who isn't Catholic would never see it that way but it has a Catholic world view and Catholic social teaching runs deep there.
I digress. You know how things begin as a friendly conversation and then suddenly are very uncomfortable? Yeah. At first it was "the reasons I go to the parish school" and then it became "all the reasons why I'm irritated with my parish school" which were, in a nutshell, the presence of non-Catholics. Wow. I'm sitting next to one of the other moms, who is a Mennonite, and later another came over (I guess I'd describe her as evangelical or non-denominational but that has connotations that do not apply here). In fact, I think I was the only practicing Catholic adult there besides Bethany, and it became all too clear that we stood on two different ends of some sort of spectrum.
Her big problems with non-Catholics were that she thought they got too much help on tuition and that they got to serve at Mass. The first part I didn't engage. But the second I did. She said that non-Catholics don't understand the holiness of the Eucharist. Possibly, maybe even probably true. But, I pointed out, what do servers have to do with the Eucharist these days? They hold books, they bring over pitchers of water and towels, they hold candles, maybe....I kept tossing things over in my head and couldn't really think of good arguments for or against this practice. But she had made multiple phone calls to other parents. She was upset. "They're holding OUR BIBLE," she said excitedly. "We're the only religion that has OUR BIBLE and it's holy and precious and they shouldn't hold it!"
"Do you mean the sacramentary? Or the lectionary?" I inquired. "It's not a bible--it's a book of prayers or readings of the day. It's not really the same thing."
"But it's OURS."
At this point I started asking her a few questions about theology, about liturgy, and she couldn't, or just didn't, answer them. She started in on Vatican II and how people think it changed things when really it didn't, and I just sighed. "There are many promises from Vatican II that have not been realized or that are being stripped away," I tried one last time but this was a conversation that was going to have a winner and I wasn't about to make myself that person. The Mennonite next to me outed herself and Bethany changed some of her tune. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening away from Bethany (firebuilding) and thought about how I might draw her aside at the end of the evening when she and Little left and just give her a heads-up about the composition of the troop and how alienating she was being.
If you want to read about the firebuilding, go to my advent blog. It was good but it was long and in the end, there was a thunderstorm. Yup.
We all got back inside and were drinking hot chocolate and eating brown bears when suddenly there's this blood-curdling shrieking at the next table. I'm facing away from the action and my brain starts moving kind of slowly. I remember whole sentences: why is she screaming? Why is Bethany over there? What is going on? And then suddenly everything caught up and I realized Little had spilled boiling hot chocolate all over herself. Her mother was stripping her down and yelling (maybe upon reflection she wasn't, but it was definitely one of those panicky moments). Our lodge had a shower and I got it turned on and found a towel. Bethany got her into the shower. I went back into the kitchen. My coleader was mopping the floor, most of the girls had nervously returned to their conversations, but one, Franny, was at the sink crying while one of the moms tried to comfort her. I realized this was my reaction too, suddenly, the post-crisis letdown adrenaline being sapped from my body emotional response. The preschool teacher from Sophia's school who had been absolutely awesome the whole time took Franny into the front room and calmed her down. That bothered me more than the burning, really, in the end, considering that Little looked like she had a sunburn but was more embarrassed than hurt. But Franny was super-upset by the whole thing. She doesn't even know the girl. It reminded me of how connected kids are to feelings in a room and tension and crisis.
And so I didn't pull Bethany aside. Maybe it was for the best--Little won't be in the troop next year and we'll move on without a dust-up.
Did I mention there was a thunderstorm brewing up something fierce by this point? Most girls were at least somewhat concerned and frightened by the weather, and the leak in the roof didn't help. Yeah. A leak. But we got a bucket from Ranger Mike and went on with the evening. Ranger Mike was younger than I expected and Bridget (the preschool teacher, yes, Bridgett and Bridget made for a confusing weekend) was sorry she missed him. I read through the emergency procedures manual after the electricity flickered. I did like that the first bullet point in all the emergency scenarios was "stay calm. Distract girls with songs and stories." My co-leader did just that. But nothing came to pass besides the leak and girls went to bed and eventually four of the adults sat down and hashed out the afternoon.
It was good to have confirmation that the people that I find hard to handle or even downright crazy are viewed that way by others. And then we talked about Maeve's preschool class and whatever else (possums, for instance) came into our heads.
I won't bore you with Sunday. We cleaned, we hiked, we went home.
No phone calls from Cookie Mom thus far. Turned out Layla was just a bundle of nerves--she got home and was fine within an hour. I assume Little was ok. I haven't gotten up the courage to call Bethany. I still have supplies floating out there somewhere...other moms' cars...
And now we're off until COOKIE GO DATE, which is somewhere around January 16, 2010. GO! GO! GO!
And it was just like how I thought it would be. Little sat with Bethany and made bracelets with beads and wire. Didn't mesh with the other girls at all. I put Leo down for a nap (yay!) and came out to do hospitality with them (I wasn't going to just pretend they weren't there and go chat with folks I liked better...I know she tried to rip me a new one on the phone in October but I was going to be nice).
The conversation turned to the parish school. You know, the one Sophia doesn't go to? I don't have anything against it, but I know I've chosen the better place where we are. We may one day wind up at my parish school. But as a parent I know our school is the most Catholic school I could find--in the ways that are important to me--and not Catholic in the ways that aren't important to me. I know it's a charter montessori and a public school--someone who isn't Catholic would never see it that way but it has a Catholic world view and Catholic social teaching runs deep there.
I digress. You know how things begin as a friendly conversation and then suddenly are very uncomfortable? Yeah. At first it was "the reasons I go to the parish school" and then it became "all the reasons why I'm irritated with my parish school" which were, in a nutshell, the presence of non-Catholics. Wow. I'm sitting next to one of the other moms, who is a Mennonite, and later another came over (I guess I'd describe her as evangelical or non-denominational but that has connotations that do not apply here). In fact, I think I was the only practicing Catholic adult there besides Bethany, and it became all too clear that we stood on two different ends of some sort of spectrum.
Her big problems with non-Catholics were that she thought they got too much help on tuition and that they got to serve at Mass. The first part I didn't engage. But the second I did. She said that non-Catholics don't understand the holiness of the Eucharist. Possibly, maybe even probably true. But, I pointed out, what do servers have to do with the Eucharist these days? They hold books, they bring over pitchers of water and towels, they hold candles, maybe....I kept tossing things over in my head and couldn't really think of good arguments for or against this practice. But she had made multiple phone calls to other parents. She was upset. "They're holding OUR BIBLE," she said excitedly. "We're the only religion that has OUR BIBLE and it's holy and precious and they shouldn't hold it!"
"Do you mean the sacramentary? Or the lectionary?" I inquired. "It's not a bible--it's a book of prayers or readings of the day. It's not really the same thing."
"But it's OURS."
At this point I started asking her a few questions about theology, about liturgy, and she couldn't, or just didn't, answer them. She started in on Vatican II and how people think it changed things when really it didn't, and I just sighed. "There are many promises from Vatican II that have not been realized or that are being stripped away," I tried one last time but this was a conversation that was going to have a winner and I wasn't about to make myself that person. The Mennonite next to me outed herself and Bethany changed some of her tune. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening away from Bethany (firebuilding) and thought about how I might draw her aside at the end of the evening when she and Little left and just give her a heads-up about the composition of the troop and how alienating she was being.
If you want to read about the firebuilding, go to my advent blog. It was good but it was long and in the end, there was a thunderstorm. Yup.
We all got back inside and were drinking hot chocolate and eating brown bears when suddenly there's this blood-curdling shrieking at the next table. I'm facing away from the action and my brain starts moving kind of slowly. I remember whole sentences: why is she screaming? Why is Bethany over there? What is going on? And then suddenly everything caught up and I realized Little had spilled boiling hot chocolate all over herself. Her mother was stripping her down and yelling (maybe upon reflection she wasn't, but it was definitely one of those panicky moments). Our lodge had a shower and I got it turned on and found a towel. Bethany got her into the shower. I went back into the kitchen. My coleader was mopping the floor, most of the girls had nervously returned to their conversations, but one, Franny, was at the sink crying while one of the moms tried to comfort her. I realized this was my reaction too, suddenly, the post-crisis letdown adrenaline being sapped from my body emotional response. The preschool teacher from Sophia's school who had been absolutely awesome the whole time took Franny into the front room and calmed her down. That bothered me more than the burning, really, in the end, considering that Little looked like she had a sunburn but was more embarrassed than hurt. But Franny was super-upset by the whole thing. She doesn't even know the girl. It reminded me of how connected kids are to feelings in a room and tension and crisis.
And so I didn't pull Bethany aside. Maybe it was for the best--Little won't be in the troop next year and we'll move on without a dust-up.
Did I mention there was a thunderstorm brewing up something fierce by this point? Most girls were at least somewhat concerned and frightened by the weather, and the leak in the roof didn't help. Yeah. A leak. But we got a bucket from Ranger Mike and went on with the evening. Ranger Mike was younger than I expected and Bridget (the preschool teacher, yes, Bridgett and Bridget made for a confusing weekend) was sorry she missed him. I read through the emergency procedures manual after the electricity flickered. I did like that the first bullet point in all the emergency scenarios was "stay calm. Distract girls with songs and stories." My co-leader did just that. But nothing came to pass besides the leak and girls went to bed and eventually four of the adults sat down and hashed out the afternoon.
It was good to have confirmation that the people that I find hard to handle or even downright crazy are viewed that way by others. And then we talked about Maeve's preschool class and whatever else (possums, for instance) came into our heads.
I won't bore you with Sunday. We cleaned, we hiked, we went home.
No phone calls from Cookie Mom thus far. Turned out Layla was just a bundle of nerves--she got home and was fine within an hour. I assume Little was ok. I haven't gotten up the courage to call Bethany. I still have supplies floating out there somewhere...other moms' cars...
And now we're off until COOKIE GO DATE, which is somewhere around January 16, 2010. GO! GO! GO!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Our Camping Trip: Friday
It was a great weekend.
There were snags. All the snags but one made me say "OF COURSE" in that tone of voice I get when I'm ruing fate. But I can laugh about most of them now, only a day later, because even the most annoying bits had their moments.
The first snag, of course, was my van in the shop. But that was easily solved with more drivers stepping up to the plate. And we were on our way easily. Trisha and I got there first and checked in. The camp supervisors seemed downright friendly. Sometimes I fear older girl scouts (meaning women in their 50s and 60s whose girls are all grown up but still for some reason are attached to scouting). But these seemed good. The lodge was FABULOUS. Bunkbeds, a full kitchen with fridge and stove, relatively clean, in view of a pretty creek, easy access to trails, parking lot, and the supervisor's lodge, and so on. The girls chose beds and we unpacked cars.
Then Mary Beth pulled up with her daughter Hannah (all girls names are changed except Sophia because I already use that name), my neighbor Mary, her daughter, and Cassie. Cassie is the daughter of Cookie Mom, whom I have written long odes to in the past already. Cassie doesn't bother me one way or another--she's not one of my favorite girls who are full of spunk and personality, but she's not one of the few that try every shred of my patience either (frankly, I have a lot of the former kind of girl and only one or two of the latter).
Cassie had thrown up in the car. All over Hannah. Mary and Mary Beth had already called Cassie's folks and Mom was on her way before I could call her back and say that Trisha would bring Carrie home. See, I just didn't want to go there. Really. But it was happening.
We got stuff set up and Cassie's mom came quickly. She came in apologizing, which is exactly what I'd be doing if Sophia had thrown up in someone's car. She tried to play the "just carsick" card but Cassie had already admitted that illness was going around the family. I told her I was sorry but there wasn't anything we could do (there wasn't--I wasn't being mean, I was just being realistic).
And then she did what I've been waiting for her to do for ten months. Nothing big or angry, but she pulled the money card. She said how disappointed she was that Cassie hasn't been able to do anything the troop was able to do with the money she earned for them (this is a paraphrase but that was the basic idea). This isn't completely true but she was absent for a number of things--the hayride, the city museum, the arch--and in my head I was absolutely furious because none of them were done maliciously to exclude her. Things were planned, and then family events or soccer or not being registered on time got in the way. It's been nice to have the money, but it doesn't mean I'm going to bend over backwards to accommodate Cookie Mom and their schedule. I'm sorry. I didn't ask her to sell those cookies (in fact I make it clear to my parents that their girls don't even have to sell cookies, although they often find it to be really easy to sell at least a few boxes--I've only had one family refuse completely and they offered to pay for their daughter to attend events that were paid for with cookie funds, but I didn't single them out in that direction either).
It's true, I could have made a bigger deal out of the sale. I could have given Cassie some kind of award for selling those cookies. But I know how she did it (illicit cookie booth without council permission, buying on spec, basically, and then later thinking she could just write an IOU to our troop while she finished the job into the summer...nope). If she had stood in the back of her church and sold 4 boxes to 250 people, I probably would have been super impressed and amazed. But not this way.
But I didn't say anything. I just said I was sorry it turned out this way. I mentioned that my coleader's daughter stayed home Friday night just to be sure she was feeling ok (she'd been sick Wednesday). It was going around. And then Cookie Mom packed Cassie up and took her home.
The rest of Friday passed nicely--it was a big slumber party. Saturday morning dawned early (I was sharing a bunk with Leo, which I did not do the second night but instead flopped two mattresses on the ground and spread out). Breakfast was omelets in a bag (yum) and Layla was sick. Yes, another girl got sick. Threw up 4 times. Finally I had another adult take her home.
There were snags. All the snags but one made me say "OF COURSE" in that tone of voice I get when I'm ruing fate. But I can laugh about most of them now, only a day later, because even the most annoying bits had their moments.
The first snag, of course, was my van in the shop. But that was easily solved with more drivers stepping up to the plate. And we were on our way easily. Trisha and I got there first and checked in. The camp supervisors seemed downright friendly. Sometimes I fear older girl scouts (meaning women in their 50s and 60s whose girls are all grown up but still for some reason are attached to scouting). But these seemed good. The lodge was FABULOUS. Bunkbeds, a full kitchen with fridge and stove, relatively clean, in view of a pretty creek, easy access to trails, parking lot, and the supervisor's lodge, and so on. The girls chose beds and we unpacked cars.
Then Mary Beth pulled up with her daughter Hannah (all girls names are changed except Sophia because I already use that name), my neighbor Mary, her daughter, and Cassie. Cassie is the daughter of Cookie Mom, whom I have written long odes to in the past already. Cassie doesn't bother me one way or another--she's not one of my favorite girls who are full of spunk and personality, but she's not one of the few that try every shred of my patience either (frankly, I have a lot of the former kind of girl and only one or two of the latter).
Cassie had thrown up in the car. All over Hannah. Mary and Mary Beth had already called Cassie's folks and Mom was on her way before I could call her back and say that Trisha would bring Carrie home. See, I just didn't want to go there. Really. But it was happening.
We got stuff set up and Cassie's mom came quickly. She came in apologizing, which is exactly what I'd be doing if Sophia had thrown up in someone's car. She tried to play the "just carsick" card but Cassie had already admitted that illness was going around the family. I told her I was sorry but there wasn't anything we could do (there wasn't--I wasn't being mean, I was just being realistic).
And then she did what I've been waiting for her to do for ten months. Nothing big or angry, but she pulled the money card. She said how disappointed she was that Cassie hasn't been able to do anything the troop was able to do with the money she earned for them (this is a paraphrase but that was the basic idea). This isn't completely true but she was absent for a number of things--the hayride, the city museum, the arch--and in my head I was absolutely furious because none of them were done maliciously to exclude her. Things were planned, and then family events or soccer or not being registered on time got in the way. It's been nice to have the money, but it doesn't mean I'm going to bend over backwards to accommodate Cookie Mom and their schedule. I'm sorry. I didn't ask her to sell those cookies (in fact I make it clear to my parents that their girls don't even have to sell cookies, although they often find it to be really easy to sell at least a few boxes--I've only had one family refuse completely and they offered to pay for their daughter to attend events that were paid for with cookie funds, but I didn't single them out in that direction either).
It's true, I could have made a bigger deal out of the sale. I could have given Cassie some kind of award for selling those cookies. But I know how she did it (illicit cookie booth without council permission, buying on spec, basically, and then later thinking she could just write an IOU to our troop while she finished the job into the summer...nope). If she had stood in the back of her church and sold 4 boxes to 250 people, I probably would have been super impressed and amazed. But not this way.
But I didn't say anything. I just said I was sorry it turned out this way. I mentioned that my coleader's daughter stayed home Friday night just to be sure she was feeling ok (she'd been sick Wednesday). It was going around. And then Cookie Mom packed Cassie up and took her home.
The rest of Friday passed nicely--it was a big slumber party. Saturday morning dawned early (I was sharing a bunk with Leo, which I did not do the second night but instead flopped two mattresses on the ground and spread out). Breakfast was omelets in a bag (yum) and Layla was sick. Yes, another girl got sick. Threw up 4 times. Finally I had another adult take her home.
Girl Scout Camp
This evening I'll be out and about with Sophia at Irish Dance. My hope is to have Mike's laptop with me. And I will fill you in on all the details from camp as well as catch up with the advent writing I've neglected over the weekend!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Woes
Ok 2009 sucked for the Wissingers. Yeah, Leo was born in January, but it's been more than a little downhill ever since. Here we are in the miserable cold and my van is on the fritz. Probably more than "fritz" actually. It could just be a busted radiator hose and on we go with our lives, but it could be something bad. As my mom put it on the phone, the radiator frazzle could have meduzled. I know it's the radiator. I can smell the antifreeze. I don't think I noticed the white smoke coming out of the exhaust, so that's a good sign--maybe it is just a hose leaking out all over the place.
But the van is 10 years old and in lousy shape and has 199,000 miles on the dang thing. And it's December so of course. Of course.
Ann was wonderfully gracious enough to meet me at the mechanic (the engine smoking, after pulling off the road 3 times between Sophia's school and the mechanic, a distance that is easy biking distance in nice weather). She and her husband have a third car they're saving for their daughter when she gets her license. I have it for the day. So nice. And this weekend I have plenty of drivers. Mike's car (knock on wood) is in fine shape and we only need one car this weekend....I hate the idea of sinking money into another car at this time of year but.
But.
I'm back home now and the ice has melted off the windows. Leo is napping and I think I'm actually going to work out. I need to feel like I accomplished something today that wasn't costly and depressing.
That said, I had a dream last night about the van. I was sitting down at a huge table, like at a holiday meal, and my neighbor was across the table from me. He asked me what my deal was. I told him I was worried the van was on its last legs (wheels?) and I wasn't sure what we were going to do. He replied: "You're letting a car get you down like this? I try not to let automobiles affect my life that way."
Ok, that's a smack on the head. Chill, baby.
But the van is 10 years old and in lousy shape and has 199,000 miles on the dang thing. And it's December so of course. Of course.
Ann was wonderfully gracious enough to meet me at the mechanic (the engine smoking, after pulling off the road 3 times between Sophia's school and the mechanic, a distance that is easy biking distance in nice weather). She and her husband have a third car they're saving for their daughter when she gets her license. I have it for the day. So nice. And this weekend I have plenty of drivers. Mike's car (knock on wood) is in fine shape and we only need one car this weekend....I hate the idea of sinking money into another car at this time of year but.
But.
I'm back home now and the ice has melted off the windows. Leo is napping and I think I'm actually going to work out. I need to feel like I accomplished something today that wasn't costly and depressing.
That said, I had a dream last night about the van. I was sitting down at a huge table, like at a holiday meal, and my neighbor was across the table from me. He asked me what my deal was. I told him I was worried the van was on its last legs (wheels?) and I wasn't sure what we were going to do. He replied: "You're letting a car get you down like this? I try not to let automobiles affect my life that way."
Ok, that's a smack on the head. Chill, baby.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
The Things I Don't Know
Inspired by Helen, a few things I didn't know from this week:
Ella Enchanted is a rewrite of Cinderella. I had to get to chapter 10 to realize it.
The hypoallergenic cover on Maeve's bed is also a vomit barrier. Now I know.
When you tell 10 parents to bring a canned or frozen vegetable for soup, 7 of them will bring frozen peas.
My back tire's optimum pressure is 44 whatever they are. kPals? I don't remember. I still don't know.
Ella Enchanted is a rewrite of Cinderella. I had to get to chapter 10 to realize it.
The hypoallergenic cover on Maeve's bed is also a vomit barrier. Now I know.
When you tell 10 parents to bring a canned or frozen vegetable for soup, 7 of them will bring frozen peas.
My back tire's optimum pressure is 44 whatever they are. kPals? I don't remember. I still don't know.
Terrors of Camping
I'm taking 15 3rd and 4th graders camping this weekend. It's a lodge, not tents or something crazy. But still.
Think of me.
Think of me.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Joys of Parenthood
Maeve barfed all over her bed last night. That was well timed. Not only was it in the middle of the night and I had to shower her off and change sheets and start laundry, but today is the last girl scout meeting before our camping trip (and until mid-January). We're supposed to go caroling and have a simple meal after. At my house.
She hasn't had a repeat, and if she doesn't by, say, 1 this afternoon, that will be 12 hours vomit-free and I think I'll declare it safe. But first I'm envisioning a weak bleach solution coating every surface in the bathroom.
The Christmas tree is up, though!
She hasn't had a repeat, and if she doesn't by, say, 1 this afternoon, that will be 12 hours vomit-free and I think I'll declare it safe. But first I'm envisioning a weak bleach solution coating every surface in the bathroom.
The Christmas tree is up, though!
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Twilight Movie Reviews
Ok, you may have seen this (thanks Kaylen) but this is worth a quick read:
Twilight
and Part Two New Moon
Twilight
and Part Two New Moon
Thursday, December 03, 2009
UPS Came Today
UPS came today. He asked me where our "friend" was, and I gave him the news about Dara. Gosh he's a nice guy.
We pick up her ashes tomorrow to take with us in April.
Deep breath.
Peace.
We pick up her ashes tomorrow to take with us in April.
Deep breath.
Peace.
Venison Stew
Yesterday I decided it was time to use up all the root vegetables from our CSA. I had 6 small turnips, 4 small beets, a dozen small carrots, 5 small potatoes...and in addition, a yellow bell pepper. So I defrosted deer steak--the tough stuff, more like stew meat really--and browned it on the stove while I roasted the beets and turnips in the oven.
Into the crockpot: carrots, potatoes, and a small handful of thyme. I added the browned-but-not-cooked-through deer but reserved the liquid in the pan. To that I added the equivalent of 2 cloves of garlic (mine is dehydrated chunks) and the chopped yellow pepper. Simmered it down. I put the other vegetables into the crockpot and then poured this gravy over it all. I added about 3/4 bottle of chardonnay. Then salted and peppered and let it cook for 4 hours on high.
I went back to it and stirred in 2 cups of water into which I'd added a tablespoon of salt and 2 tablespoons of cornstarch.
I made up a drop biscuit recipe and dropped spoonfuls on top as if it were a cobbler. Then I put the lid back on and walked away for 2 more hours.
It may be the best single dish meal I have ever made.
Into the crockpot: carrots, potatoes, and a small handful of thyme. I added the browned-but-not-cooked-through deer but reserved the liquid in the pan. To that I added the equivalent of 2 cloves of garlic (mine is dehydrated chunks) and the chopped yellow pepper. Simmered it down. I put the other vegetables into the crockpot and then poured this gravy over it all. I added about 3/4 bottle of chardonnay. Then salted and peppered and let it cook for 4 hours on high.
I went back to it and stirred in 2 cups of water into which I'd added a tablespoon of salt and 2 tablespoons of cornstarch.
I made up a drop biscuit recipe and dropped spoonfuls on top as if it were a cobbler. Then I put the lid back on and walked away for 2 more hours.
It may be the best single dish meal I have ever made.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Stray Cat Update
Ok, he or she has been coming up to my porch every day since we got home from Cairo. Afternoon, around the time I pick up Sophia at school, he's there waiting for us. Runs to the yard, waits. I put a handful of food in the little bowl. He eats. Monday and Tuesday, he then dashed away. But today, before the chilly rain started, he sat in the center of the porch looking pleased with himself. Jack, my tabby, was driven completely insane by this sassy display of ownership. The other two cats slept upstairs and didn't care.
He still hisses if I'm not behind the screen door at the very least. He's wary. But now he's a regular, I suppose. Elizabeth taught me the basics of a shelter which I'm going to get on this week--basically a rubbermaid container with two entrances cut in it. I think I'll tip it upside-down on its lid. I have some of those cheapy baby blankets, you know, the gerber flannel ones that come in a plastic pack of 3? And I'll stash it under the steps of the front porch and see what might happen. Might be too close to our entering and exiting. But we'll wait and see.
At least now I have confirmation that I'm not feeding a possum (he eats it all before he goes, and I only feed him in the afternoon). The screen door comes down tomorrow so we don't risk him tearing it up to fight with Jack. But something tells me he's just fine with letting Jack go crazy inside the house behind the glass.
Elizabeth said he's as feral as can be. Feral but hungry...and if it's a mild winter we'll see how long the relationship lasts.
He still hisses if I'm not behind the screen door at the very least. He's wary. But now he's a regular, I suppose. Elizabeth taught me the basics of a shelter which I'm going to get on this week--basically a rubbermaid container with two entrances cut in it. I think I'll tip it upside-down on its lid. I have some of those cheapy baby blankets, you know, the gerber flannel ones that come in a plastic pack of 3? And I'll stash it under the steps of the front porch and see what might happen. Might be too close to our entering and exiting. But we'll wait and see.
At least now I have confirmation that I'm not feeding a possum (he eats it all before he goes, and I only feed him in the afternoon). The screen door comes down tomorrow so we don't risk him tearing it up to fight with Jack. But something tells me he's just fine with letting Jack go crazy inside the house behind the glass.
Elizabeth said he's as feral as can be. Feral but hungry...and if it's a mild winter we'll see how long the relationship lasts.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
I can quit anytime
I dropped the girls off at school in the nick of time this morning. I headed home--I made pumpkin muffins for Maeve's classroom (we alternate snack responsibilities) and there were extra. I thought a cup of coffee and a muffin (or two) and that would start the day just right. I put Leo in the living room for a moment and waltzed into the kitchen to start the coffee. I got out a paper coffee filter. I reached for the grinder and. No grinder. And next to the non-grinder was the non-jar of coffee beans. I stood there aghast and then I remembered I took it to my mom's house for Thanksgiving and then left it there for Colleen and Tim to have coffee while I went to Cairo.
Crestfallen (well, not that bad) I took a pumpkin muffin and poured myself a glass of chocolate milk. I went upstairs to find the phone and called my mother to tell her I was going to come over to get my coffee stuff later in the morning. Then I sat on the guest bed and sullenly ate the muffin, giving bits to Leo who kept crawling to the edge of the bed like a lemming.
I thought about my options (besides the obvious "walk to my mother's house" because I was home for the morning, at least that was the plan, so I could be productive....umm). I had a free sample of that pseudo-instant coffee Starbucks is pushing like heroin these days. I'd had it dissolved in chocolate milk before and it was passable. It made me wonder what sort of cigarette smoking coffee fiends were the taste testers for that product. But I considered it. It was in my purse downstairs. Hmm. And there was always the instant cocoa with coffee in it, some sort of mocha java jive choco heaven thing or whatever.
I sat on the guest bed. Leo ate muffin. I thought back to yesterday, my 3 cups of coffee at Ann's house, and then my mother's treat at the drive-through that afternoon. I went to bed last night with heartburn, for goodness sake. Maybe I could take the morning off. I stared at the muffin paper and thought back to college, before I drank coffee, sitting in the cafeteria with Obie while he downed cup after cup of black coffee. I drank grape juice and had eggs with syrup on them.
"There isn't enough grape juice in the world to kick start me this morning," he declared. Back then, I just laughed and we walked to some class together. But now I understand.
Leo's napping. I'm not heading over to my mother's house right now. Maybe if I dissolved the instant stuff into hot chocolate. Or maybe if I jumped up and down on a ziploc bag filled with beans from the freezer. Or maybe I'll just have a glass of ice water and get to work.
Crestfallen (well, not that bad) I took a pumpkin muffin and poured myself a glass of chocolate milk. I went upstairs to find the phone and called my mother to tell her I was going to come over to get my coffee stuff later in the morning. Then I sat on the guest bed and sullenly ate the muffin, giving bits to Leo who kept crawling to the edge of the bed like a lemming.
I thought about my options (besides the obvious "walk to my mother's house" because I was home for the morning, at least that was the plan, so I could be productive....umm). I had a free sample of that pseudo-instant coffee Starbucks is pushing like heroin these days. I'd had it dissolved in chocolate milk before and it was passable. It made me wonder what sort of cigarette smoking coffee fiends were the taste testers for that product. But I considered it. It was in my purse downstairs. Hmm. And there was always the instant cocoa with coffee in it, some sort of mocha java jive choco heaven thing or whatever.
I sat on the guest bed. Leo ate muffin. I thought back to yesterday, my 3 cups of coffee at Ann's house, and then my mother's treat at the drive-through that afternoon. I went to bed last night with heartburn, for goodness sake. Maybe I could take the morning off. I stared at the muffin paper and thought back to college, before I drank coffee, sitting in the cafeteria with Obie while he downed cup after cup of black coffee. I drank grape juice and had eggs with syrup on them.
"There isn't enough grape juice in the world to kick start me this morning," he declared. Back then, I just laughed and we walked to some class together. But now I understand.
Leo's napping. I'm not heading over to my mother's house right now. Maybe if I dissolved the instant stuff into hot chocolate. Or maybe if I jumped up and down on a ziploc bag filled with beans from the freezer. Or maybe I'll just have a glass of ice water and get to work.
Ten on Tuesday: 10 Great Things about the Holidays
1. My mom's homemade fudge, those "moon cookies", and a tiny slice of fruitcake.
2. Boston Pop's "Sleigh Ride"
3. I get to see people I don't see any other time of year. This works both ways--both "people I wish I got to see more often and am glad to catch up with," and "people I'm glad I only have to see today."
4. It's a great excuse to drink bourbon slush.
5. I always sneak a book for me into the massive gift book order I make.
6. Living life the first time is in black and white; with children it's in color, and this is truest at Christmas.
7. Advent songs and wreath and darkness and purple.
8. The infancy narratives and prophecies and there tends to be some pretty good preachin' at church.
9. Cutting a tree, going to lunch, coming home, dragging out ornaments, and getting it done. And then lying on the couch exhausted.
10. The hope for snow, the surprise at how damned cold it is on the way to mass Christmas Eve, and then afterward, going back to my parents' house and staying up until way way too late in the evening.
2. Boston Pop's "Sleigh Ride"
3. I get to see people I don't see any other time of year. This works both ways--both "people I wish I got to see more often and am glad to catch up with," and "people I'm glad I only have to see today."
4. It's a great excuse to drink bourbon slush.
5. I always sneak a book for me into the massive gift book order I make.
6. Living life the first time is in black and white; with children it's in color, and this is truest at Christmas.
7. Advent songs and wreath and darkness and purple.
8. The infancy narratives and prophecies and there tends to be some pretty good preachin' at church.
9. Cutting a tree, going to lunch, coming home, dragging out ornaments, and getting it done. And then lying on the couch exhausted.
10. The hope for snow, the surprise at how damned cold it is on the way to mass Christmas Eve, and then afterward, going back to my parents' house and staying up until way way too late in the evening.
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