7 Quick Takes: Have Copier, Will Educate

1.

It’s one of those days when 3.5 takes would be much easier.  Just sayin’.

2.

Dear Dog,

This Christmas you are getting your very own six-quart saucepan*. I am tired of finding mine in the garage refrigerator with your venison scraps stored  in it.  The humans expect me to cook for them.  To each species their own pot.

Sincerely,

The Complainer  Santa

3.

PS: Bones stay outside.  Out. Side.  “Hiding them in the boy’s bed” does not count as “Outside.”

4.

My second-grader loves this book:

My son would have despised it.  #2 probably would have liked it, and I think #4 might one day.

5.

The other find at the candy education supply house super clearance sale this fall was:

My kindergartener is using the beginning of the book to practice decoding skills.  2nd grader started a little farther in, for  spelling / phonics / reading words.  Lucky find.  I’m liking reproducibles.  When you have more than one child to use the book, it starts to be a reasonable investment.

6.

Don’t forget to pray for Allie Hathaway.

7.

So naturally the toner is low.  Need to order more.  I <heart> Newegg.  I feel so 21st century.  Hey and seven wasn’t so bad after all.

Now need to go figure out what to wear to the office party tonight.  That part I’ll manage, at least well enough for a gaggle of engineers. But here’s a bleg: Any suggestions for good conversation starters?  Mixed company, so religion, politics and money talk are right out.  Also, education (mostly), childrearing (mostly), childbearing (mostly), because those are basically religion, politics, and money, Parenting Edition.  You see my trouble.

Every Advent I forget how to chit-chat.  Okay, actually all year I forget, but it becomes apparent in Advent.  I keep meaning to write myself up an index card of opening lines.  Help?

 

* I think they call it a “Stock Pot”.  But hello, I have many humans to feed.  That’s my saucepan size now.

Something I’d heard about, but never seen.

Rapunzel-thon* continues.  Convalescing 5-year-old calls for help: “Mom, can you make it play in the language I’m speaking?”

“The language you’re speaking?  That’s English.”  They lose track of these things.

She’s on the main menu.  I go check the language settings.  There’s two English choices:

1. Dolby something or another
2. Dolby something or another Descriptive Video Service.

“Darling, do you mind if I try something?”

“Okay.” <– She is the happiest member of our family.  All the time.  Wish the rest of us were so compliant**.

 

This is the first time I’ve seen DVS on the language-track choices, and wow, pretty cool.  Useful of course for it’s intended purpose.  But also: Wow, what a study in film-making!  Draws your attention to what information is shared via dialogue or sound-effects, and what is told in images.  Great tool for the writer.

5 year-old doesn’t seem to mind it — it could be annoying to have to listen to descriptions you don’t need — but then, she loves describing things.  All about method, that child.

 

*I like this movie much more than Steven Greydanus did.  Then again, he probably hasn’t been subject to OSHA-prohibited hours of exposure to Barbie Fairy Secret.  Not that I’d trade jobs with him.  Not ever.  No way.  It takes a true martyr to endure what that man does.

** Such a happy baby that I  took her to the doctor when she was four months old, because she was suddenly so fussy, no other symptom.  Ear infection, maybe?  Nope.  The doctor diagnosed “fussy baby”.  I went home, remembered Ora-gel, and the problem was solved.  A walking anti-parable, “The Girl Who Never Cried Wolf”.

3.5 Time Outs: Jesus Fairyland

Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy for inspiring countless countable numbers of bloggers to add structure and scandalous images to their Tuesday.  But not that scandalous — take a look at his 3.5 takes to see not see images far worse than derelict toddlers.

1.

I won a prize!  Oh it cheers me up.  Lisa M. encouraged me to turn out for the Amazing Catechist Giveaway, which I did not want to do, because, well, I didn’t want to be commenting just to indulge my book lust.  But you know what? I didn’t have to fake it.  There’s useful information in that place, and friendly bloggers who answer combox questions, which means even more useful information.  Needless to say, I learned about a pile of new books I want to check out, and look, I won one of them:

And now it is in my hands!  I can’t wait to read it.  Yay!  Check out the Keep Infants of Down Syndrome blog, if you are like me, giving Catholics a bad name by chewing out telemarketers for major charities that seek to “prevent birth defects” by killing off the people who don’t meet spec.  Yeah, I’m cranky.  Killing innocent people makes me cranky.

2.

Respectable Christians are sending Sarah Reinhard photos of their Advent wreaths. I don’t qualify.  Here’s the one we used to have:

That’s Santa and his reindeer, flying towards Christmas.  (Which had not arrived at photo time — observe the recycled candles.  There cannot be a single shade of purple.)

Allow me to explain: I did not donate this item because it was too tacky for me.  It was because, well, look how big it is.  You can store a lot of books in that cubic foot.  My one vice had to give way for the other. But you who own proper Advent wreaths, send in your photos.

3.

Dear Small Children of Mine,

We have been building a model of Bethlehem in our living room every Advent since before the eldest among you was even conceived.  It pleases me greatly to combine Lego, Fischer Price, and Playmobil structures into a giant sprawling representation of the Holy Land.  I am not the least disturbed when the Seven Dwarves turn out for the census.  Presumably the Romans counted even the very short and sneezy.

But I draw the line at calling it “Jesus Fairyland”.  It is Bethlehem.  B-e-t-h-l-e-h-e-m.  Get it straight.

Sincerely,

That Catechist Lady Who’s Supposed to be Educating You

3.5

Rapunzel, opiate of the masses. This weekend I shipped the Y chromosomes off to Hunt Camp, Eldest Daughter did homework Friday and then spent the weekend at her friend’s house, and my two listless littles watched our new library find: Tangled. Continuously.  From 9AM Friday until 3PM Sunday, with breaks only to sleep, attend church, and sometimes to eat.  I got a lot of work done.  And hey, it’s a pretty good movie.  Edifying, even. And boy am I glad my 5-year-old is still enthralled, because last night at the ER

***

Relax.  I will finish that story next week.   All is well here.  Offer up your suspense for the half-dozen people I’m praying for who have real problems.  One in particular needs you today, desperately.  God will know which one.  Thanks!

7 Quick Takes: Things We Don’t Talk About

1.

I would like you to know that there are many, many reasons you should be grateful I gave up complaining.  Of course I cannot tell you what they are.  Just enjoy the peace and quiet for a change.

2.

Don’t panic, the reasons are all very petty.  If I had something big to complain about, I’d cleverly disguise it as a “prayer request” or something.

3.

Dear Self,

Compulsively surfing the internet does not count as “praying”.  Even if you do read highly edifying Catholic blogs.  Even if you do toss out Hail Mary’s here and there for good causes.  Please get your act together.  Right now.

Sincerely,

The Person Who is Dragging You To Confession Tomorrow, Do Not Even Try One of Your Excuses to Get Out of It.

4.

Am I the only person whose spouse is obsessed with filling the freezer with venison this year?

If your sensibilities are easily offended, skip #5.

5.

PSA: How to Have Almost Free Meat

1.  Do not take up hunting.  Hunting saves no money.  Ever.  It is a giant financial black hole.

2.  Instead, cultivate a general interest in hunting.   An ability to make hunting talk.

3.  The people who just like to shoot things will eventually come out of the woodwork.  Oh, yes, you’d be surprised.

4.  Get yourself a good sharp knife, a pile of freezer paper, and this book:

5.  Also, sturdy rubber gloves.  You don’t want mad deer disease.

6.  Tell your crazy hunting friends to shoot all the big furry animals they like.  And then to drop the carcass off at your place.  Immediately.  None of this ridiculous “aging” business.  Gross.

7.  Quit being so squeamish. Tofu is over-rated.

8. Sanitize, sanitize, sanitize.

9.  Long slow moist heat solves all cooking problems.

10.  Eat.

6.

Don’t forget to pray for Allie Hathaway.

7.

We label all our venison with the date it was wrapped, name of the hunter, a note about what animal it is, and the cut of meat.  So you might see a package that says something like, “Eddie – Buck – 10/2011 – Shank”.

Which is all very well until we have to explain why there are packages in our freezer saying, “John Doe Shoulder 12/2011.”

3.5 Time Outs: Plague Journal

Thanks to our host at Acts of the Apostasy for giving me new mid-week writing ambitions.  The 1/2 was going to kill me, until I realized how good I am at  not finishing things.

1.

SuperHusband wants to buy a camera adapter for our microscope.  I used accounting stalling techniques to put him off.  And then I remembered that my resident photographers give me a treasure-trove of material for blog work.  Tempting.  Very tempting.  On the other hand, though he tried to lure me in with promises of breath-taking snowflake photography, mostly our microscope is used for insect post-mortems.  Half-smushed ants.  I think I might get fired from the Internet and made to sit in the back row at church, if I posted any of those.

2.

PSA #1: Best lip balm in the universe:

PSA#2: Don’t store it in your truck.  You want to.  But don’t.

3.

Dan Castell’s latest Marx Brother’s story is up:

I’ve been taking advantage of the plague to work through the manuscript of the magnum opus from which these are drawn.  On the one hand, the leisurely, relax-and-enjoy style of the genre is perfect for the convalescent.  On the other hand, if you aren’t supposed laugh because it makes you cough, hmnn.  The frail read at their own risk.

3 1/2

The boy just called me in excitedly, to show me the printing dots, as viewed under the microscope, of this book:

The book is great.  Super great.  Best treatment of the topic ever.  And under a low-power microscope, it looks like:

***

Well, that’s all for this week.  And unlike our kind host, I won’t be able to finish my half until SuperHusband talks me into the next big gear purchase, so that could be later than Volume 3.  We figured out he could use his photography/consulting money to fund his gadget habit, so there’s hope for you.  I only hope he doesn’t decide we should manage my book budget the same way.  Shhh.

Professional Hazards

Dear Former Associates of the Man Who Lives in my Neighbor’s Garage:

Yes, I have been writing posts about forgiveness.  All the same, it is not necessary for your motor vehicles to malfunction in a way that alters the appearance and operation of my motor vehicles.  At eleven at night.  When I have the plague.  However, I am very grateful that you chose the minivan I do not love, instead of the truck that I do love.  Please continue to direct your mishaps towards my un-loved but well-insured property, because I’m afraid my soul is still quite small.

Likewise, my sense of humor, though medium-sized, is only amused at damage to your truck (see: “small soul” above).  That crashing sound as you sped out of the neighborhood really hit the spot.  So to speak.  I was also tickled to learn that incidents involving parked vehicles on private property are beyond the jurisdiction of the County Sheriff’s department.  I did not realize that what we call the “State Troopers” are technically the State Highway and Driveway Patrol.  My boy was quite pleased to meet so many officers in one evening.

Yours in Christ and increasingly weary,

Jennifer.

PS: I am not complaining, only observing.

PPS: I don’t suppose you, too, needed several chapters of the Doctors of the Church to settle down after?

7 Quick Takes: Nday Ithway Ouryay Iritspay

Look! The Post-It Notes! I Finally Remembered! Click to see 7 x 77 Quick Takes

 

Resisted the urge to flee to 3.5 Time Outs, which would have been more realistic, except that Tuesdays aren’t any better than Fridays.  Due to the plague, I didn’t see it until Thursday anyway.

1.

Dear Son Whom I Love,

Please do not make fake retching noises while you do your homework.

Sincerely,

The Person Who Assigns Grades.

2.

An Advent novel!  Back before we had kids, SuperHusband observed that among his colleagues, the parents of young children were constantly getting sick.  Now we have young children.  So I use these special parenthood moments to catch up on my homeschooling reading.  Which is why I read The Bronze Bow this week while other responsible adults were doing things like going around upright, and speaking without coughing.  It’s Mr. Boy’s new literature selection.

Ignore the goofy cover art. This is a super book.

And wow, a good book!  If you haven’t read it, it is awesome, and I mean that with all the italics of a crazy person, awesome Advent reading.  Highly recommended.

3.

I went ahead and bought the Kolbe literature questions.  Pretty useful, and not a bad deal for what will be about a collective decade worth of literature for my kids. And I thought, “Hey, how cool, reproducibles!”  So I made copies.  And then just to be sure before I posted on the blog something like, “Hey, how cool, reproducibles!” I double-checked.  Oooh.  Noooo.  Red all-caps on the back cover: IT IS ILLEGAL TO PHOTOCOPY THIS BOOK.

So I guess I’ll chain it to a desk and bookmark the pages select children (who cannot be trusted with a book — see “retching noises” above) need to view.

Grumble grumble.  Publishers trying to make a living. What, they need to eat or something??

4.

Here’s what happens when you foolishly invite an SCA friend (who said, “I was thinking of coming to your church”) to come to your church:  The choir director chooses a 9th Century hymn for communion.  Ours didn’t sound as impressive as the link (whose does?), plus it was in English (full disclosure: English is one of my favorite languages), but that did not stop me from pointing to the note at the bottom of the hymnal and whispering, “Look!  9th Century!”

So if I get fired, that’s why.

(PS: It isn’t just me. My friend says she kept noticing the Byzantine scrollwork on the Catholic Update pew cards with all the translation changes.  I believe good art may be a near occasion of sin for us.)

5.

Out on the playground after mass, discussing the new translation with a different friend, a realization: To be Catholic is to complain.

–> If we were Protestant, we’d take our protesting seriously and go start our own church.  Instead we stick around.  And that, I think, is why Catholics have such a well-developed Theology of Suffering.  We live with each other.

(Ever notice the heavy emphasis on Not Complaining in the lives of saints?  It is as if the writers of these things wish to inspire us to heroic silence. Apparently one could be canonized, even declared a Doctor of the Church, if only the art of Not Complaining were practiced wholeheartedly.)

6.

Don’t forget to pray for Allie Hathaway.

7.

Dear Son Whom I Love,

There is no approved translation of the Roman Missal into Pig Latin.  Nor will there ever be.  Stop.  Now.

Sincerely,

The Person Upon Whom You Depend For Room And Board.

5.2

So what if I gave up complaining?

Wipe that smirk off your mouth.

Seriously.  Do you know someone who isn’t a Doctor of the Church, but pulled it off anyway?  Even half the time?  What do you do when someone asks your opinion of, oh, you know, something?  Do you say, “I’d tell you except that I gave up complaining for Advent?”  Or maybe you just pinch the baby or drop a vase or do something to change the subject?

Smirk.  Off.

Wealth. Luxury. Every good thing.

Wealth is this:

I’m sick – evil horrid can’t-sit-up-long chest cold.  The boy is sick.  Locked-in-the-bathroom vomiting sick.  The girl is doing homework, housekeeping, and keeping after two littles.  It’s cold in the house.  Who is going to get a fire going in the woodstove?

Oh, right, we have that machine.

Walk down the hallway, flip switch, push button.  Instant warm house.  Every room.  Just like that.

Double wealthy: I push aside my accountant-y tendencies, and ramp the heat all the way up to 65.  Luxury.  Love it.

PS: Everyone is much better today.

PPS: Please pray for the Hathaway family.  Pray in particular for the health of the eldest of the young Hathaways, who is my daughter’s very dear friend and an awesome person on every count.

7 Quick Takes: Things That I Like

This makes two weeks in a row.  Bizarre internet writing goals.  Feels like the time I almost starting wearing lip gloss every day as a Lenten penance.

1.

I got all intellectual and selected a Pope Book for my new Catholic Company review item.   Checked the mailbox every day.  It took FOUR DAYS.  I learn perseverance and patience this way.

So far so good.  It is much easier to read a B16 talk written for normal people, than to read what he writes when left to sit down alone in some quiet place for a very long time.   I think as a general rule, theologians should not be left unsupervised.

2.

I can’t wait to get to say “Consubstantial” on Sunday.  I know, I already blogged about that the other day.  I am so excited it’s silly.  And look, Pope Quote from new book, just in time for the head-scratching during the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed. [As apparently it is called? I guess “Nicene” Creed is just a nickname?]:

In this fundamental text — which expresses the faith of the undivided Church and which we also recite today, every Sunday, in the Eucharistic celebration — the Greek term homoousios is featured, in Latin consubstantialis: it means that the Son, the Logos, is “of the same substance” as the Father, he is God of God, he is his substance.  Thus, the full divinity of the Son, which was denied by the Arians, was brought into the limelight.

[Italics in the original, typos all mine.  The one thing I don’t like about this new look here on the blog is that all the italicized words are bumped up a font size.  I may need to re-decorate.  But it is teaching me not to italicize like a crazy person*.]

3.

I keep being surprised by how much I like to write.  I am always thinking I ought to swear it off and do something useful for a change.  And then I end up back at it again.

4.

I re-wrote the catechist booklet proposal this week.  Marked it up with the pen of death.  I need to put in the last couple changes, re-proof, and stupid-check it with a friend or two.  Hopefully get the green light from People Who Want Me Not To Embarrass Myself That Much, and submit to publisher #1.  It’s a great booklet that test readers are impatient to see on the market, but that doesn’t guarantee it will fit anyone’s publishing plans for the year ahead.  We’ll see.

5.

Dear Man Whom I Love,

I am the person who has been cooking that food you find waiting for you at 6pm when you get home from work.   All by myself with no help.  It is not necessary to spend your holiday weekend hovering near the stove and running to me nervously every time you hear a beeping sound.

Sincerely,

The Person Who Arranges All Those Other Hobbies For You.

6.

Our Advent Countdown Schedule:

Friday: Clean out the house.  Including Deskavation.

Saturday: Advent Decorating and Other Things We Want To Do.

Sunday: Consubstantial!  Under My Roof!  And With Your Spirit!

I can’t wait.

7.

I managed to think up 20% more quick takes than last week.  Unless you disqualify the double-posting on consubstantial, in which case I’m holding steady with a solid C- / D+, depending on your grading scale.

*Long ago while working in state goverment, my department used to get letters from real live crazy people.  The kind who make up fake legal documents and genuinely believe they are real.  We pretended to file them as requested.  Crazy people italicize.  Very much.

Thanksgiving, Franciscans, and All Things In Moderation

Last night we took the kids to burgers then Target to quick buy our Giving Tree gift items before the shopping season began.  Stopped at the liquor store on the way; SuperHusband dashed inside, and then sloowed down . . . they were giving out free samples. [I had no idea that was legal.]  Fortunately most of it was weird trendy froofy stuff he doesn’t drink.

Kids and I sat in the car rehearsing Christmas Carols, though eventually I had to make the boy stand out in the cold next to the car, because he was being so, er, impatient, about our singing.  Then had to pre-emptively save him from injury or death, when I saw he got the bright idea to ambush his father coming out of the store.  That’s a lovely practical joke in the front hallway, dear, but not in a parking lot after dark.  He understood as soon as I explained.

Thanksgiving Eve with the Catholic Family.  Yes.  (And Target was so peaceful.  Amen.)

***

My favorite Thanksgiving book is Squanto’s Journey.  Goodness you can now get in paperback for $7.  I might have to add it to my wish list.

Something cool I didn’t mention in my first review, and that the Amazon Preview doesn’t snow you: The Friars get their credit.

***

We went to Mass this morning, chatted on the playground, then came home and the young cooks put together a batch of shortbread (per the Joy but with whole wheat flour) to bring to dinner later today. Meanwhile, SuperHusband kept showing me ads from the Sobieski website.  I can’t spell it or pronounce it, but if you google “inexpensive Polish Vodka” the ad pops up on top.  If you have utterly failed in your uber-franciscan aspirations, and have resolved just to drink affordably, it’s the one.   Tito’s is a smidge better, and is therefore my second-choice recommendation, but costs a lot more.

***

And all this to tell you a true story, which might be of help to about six people on the internet: You know they say that if you have an irregular heartbeat you should give up alcohol and caffeine?

One Lent the SuperHusband and I, who drink laughably moderately if you were wondering, gave up alcohol as a penance.  I gave it no thought. (Other than: Gosh I like beer.)  Looking back, hey, wait a minute, that was the year I developed a weird skipped-beat heart thing.  Previously had only had it during pregnancy.  (When — get this — I don’t drink.)

So the first thing to do is keep not drinking, and plus give up coffee as well.  Skipping only gets worse. Long drawn out medical investigation confirms it is a benign condition (PVC’s), hurray, go home and don’t worry about it.  Yay!

No sense living the penitential life purely for spiritual reasons, if there’s not gonna be a health kickback, right?  (Bad catechist!  No biscuit.)  Resume life of all-vices-in-moderation, decide to see what happens.

Heart goes back to the ol’ normal, all-beats-per-minute self.

Try not to feel too sorry for me.

***

This Thanksgiving, may you be blessed with problems that can only be solved by doing something you wanted to do anyway.