February 12 of 12

Another 12 of 12 brought to you by Chad--check out the instructions and other very cool people who play along. In a nutshell--our day represented by 12 photographs.


Sometime before 7 am I figured that I better look professional. I'm up against an all-day seminar, so the pictures are gonna be morning and evening heavy. It's not like a notepad could be fascinating. Anyway, here's my fancy gray suit that makes me feel like a banker. Maybe I can entertain myself by pretending to be Scully. Only, I don't have red hair.

---

It's 7:30 and I'm running late and I realize I HAVE NO GAS! I hate pumping gas in nice clothes. That's why I have children--to pump gas and do other menial things.

---

At about that same time I realized that the thing poking me in the thigh was a crucifix from a rosary that I had left in the pocket. Ok, I was gonna pray anyway. This one looks a bit like a reject--it's about 2 feet around, just a tad big, doncha think?

---

8:50-ish I thought I'd get the last picture of me looking alert and happy before being sucked into a 7-hour black hole. Still not feeling the Scully thing, but then again, my partner ain't exactly Mulder. I suppose that's a good thing.

---

After finally emerging at around 4, I am ready to abandon my post and head home.

---

Is it too much to ask for that one day I could avoid the exhaust from these Cheese Wagons?

---

This old gentleman caught my eye at a red light. I won't mock him, he was just so diligent to move at his slow pace, but he was moving, and I think that's great. Don't read anything into it beyond that. I hope one day when I am old that I won't be thwarted by a cane and keep my independence as long as possible. Go old man!

---

At 6 pm I decide to make chili because a) it's cold outside, b) it's a tasty meal, c) it was the only thing that was thawed. If you guessed A or B, you are wrong.

---

7 pm I got around to listening to the Rosary Army podcast. It's about goats, which is only marginally better than olive oil. These guys are out of control. You should give them a listen.

---

8 pm I got a sound card for my computer. Hurray. Jonathan is installing it now. I can finally stop squatting on other people's 'puters.

---

9 pm Christy came home from a long day at school--here's her lacrosse gear---and here--is THE NEW STAGE MANAGER for next year's musical! The list was posted today, (and Jonathan got a nice part, too). She's practicing her pained looked of anger, disgust, and angst for when things start to get ugly.

---

The bonus is LOVE and this definition of love isn't necessarily the one people are looking for. It's a cheat, since it was taken in January, but if you pay attention, you'll recognize the guy...teehee. This love is about the love of art, and the drive for doing things that bring joy and the fulfillment of doing something well and that you're good at. This is Christy at the state thespian conference, and she came home so pumped and so "in love" with what she enjoys doing, that's it's the right picture for the spot this month. She's with Chad Darnell, one of the speakers at the conference. Christy says he was funny, and honest, and full of all kinds of useful advice, such as "Don't audition with 'I will Survive.' " I'm sure that makes sense to somebody. P.S. Thanks for the picture, Chad, it's hanging in my home office. You rock!

Another year? You're catching up!

Happy Birthday Christi!

---

And! ! ! Luly's Santo!

Not that I put any stock in horoscopes

And generally, I don't even bother reading them, but my eyes were drawn to it today, and it has actually captured my mood this week, so I'll share it:

Your discouragement is running high as all your obligations get in the way of your true inspiration today. Your spirits dampen, for it's hard to stay upbeat when your energy is sapped by mundane chores, leaving little left over for your most creative endeavors. Have faith; hope will return, leaving you in good spirits for the rest of the weekend.

Hmmmm--it really says nothing at all, and while John is completing his audit, and Jonathan is out at a competition calculating (let's hope trig doesn't trip him up again) and Christy is beating people with a stick (a Lacrosse scrimmage), and Vicky is no doubt still in bed, and I am preparing a lesson on writing -- the house and all it's chores is waiting patiently for me to give it some attention.

So is a weekly column, a monthly challenge (I believe somebody threw down that gauntlet), an unfinished project due very soon, and that insidious pain in my neck, Darknet.

Whine whine whine.

Wine! Wine! Wine!

Sheesh

I haven't really had time to focus on any of my rapier witted comments for here. Things have just been a bit busy, plus my on-line classed imploded, and I think I need to reset it tonight.

Just for the record, no, I haven't finished Darknet yet, either. Now enough of that. I have been doing some writing, though, so I'll offer up those little tidbits for entertainment.

There's my usual Monday Musings over at Rosary Army. I've gotten some nice feedback from that one, which is always nice. I've noticed I get more feedback when I actually put my addy as a hyperlink. Once, though, I got a very bizarre comment. Let's just let that go.

And today, Rob at Ink 'n Doodles put up an essay I wrote for there on the blog page, which is a nice compliment for me. It's kind of a self-indictment, but hey, confession is good for the soul.

So that's it. Hi to everybody, and I hope to be able to return tomorrow with a commentary on Chrsity's adventures at the Thespian conference, and her audition (and Jonathan's) for the musical next year. I don't get why the auditions are now, when they haven't even opened the spring musical, but hey, I'm not the one doing it....

And finally, Chad posted his reminder for the 12 of 12 next week. I hope you guys play along--it's great fun!

I stand corrected, Vic

49,500 minutes.

Some other random tidbits that could go here, mostly because I'm pretty pre-occupied by the latest bane of my existence (not the dog) my on-line class.

Jonathan went to school yesterday WITHOUT shoes. How does one do that? The amazing part is no one said anything.

I really really really need to get my haircut, and felt this was an appropriate venue to whine about it.

I also need to renew my driver's license (see comment above for more whining commentary).

While I'm at it, I also need to do some laundry,

Pick up my medicine,

Grade some papers,

And make dinner.

How about a promise for the essay I wrote for Ink and Doodles, but IT WON"T LET ME POST!!!

Okay, I'm done. Have a nice evening.

50,000 minutes

What is that?

A conservative value of how many freakin' minutes I've waited on my children.

Incidentally, that conservative number excludes things like waiting for them to get back from sporting events, concerts, meetings, and the random whatever.

Why?

Because I pulled into the school parking lot at 4:40 pm, because Jonathan said they'd be back at 5. It turned 5. It turned 5:15. It turned 5:30. At that point, I felt they were running late, but they would pull in any minute.

It turned 6. I got angrier. It turned 6:15. A bus pulled in so I started the car and pulled behind the bus. A bunch of cheerleaders got off. Wrong bus.

The little wiener showed up at 6:45 pm.

I prayed a rosary, read a book, worked on a script, cleaned the car, called John to complain, talked to Christy, who incidentally, spoke with Chad Darnell of 12 of 12 fame--she was giddy, I think it's cute--and then I got really teed off when he called to say he was 10 minutes away.

Nice call there, boy.

So I calculated a minumum 15 minute wait for every activity, including 180 school days, 36 religious education classes, 5 programs/concerts/awards ceremonies a year.

50,000 minutes

At the end of my tirade I remembered to thank God that they always come back.

I succumbed

You'll note I didn't do some of them. I already have a weird name, so no sense in finding my name in a foreign language--it's already foreign.

And about the pet thing? The only answer is DEAD.

You are Mahogany

Stable and decisive, you lack the hyper energy of most orange colors. You're still energetic, but you tend to project a peaceful, relaxed vibe. You love to feel cozy. You often rather wrap up in a blanket than go out for the night.

What Color Orange Are You?

---

You Have A Type B Personality

You're as laid back as they come... Your baseline mood is calm and level headed Creativity and philosophy tend to be your forte Like a natural sedative, you have a soothing effect on people Friends and family often turn to you first with their problems You have the personality to be a spiritual or psychological guru

Do You Have a Type A Personality?

---

You Are 0% Redneck

I'll slap you so hard, your clothes will be outta style. You ain't no redneck - you're all Yankee!

How Redneck Are You?

---

Your Vocabulary Score: A+

Congratulations on your multifarious vocabulary! You must be quite an erudite person.

How's Your Vocabulary?

this is what happens when you're not available to your friends

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Brave Assassin. Where You Lived: Boliva. How You Died: In Childbirth.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

After having made a date with the kitchen, which desperately needs a deep cleaning, and sharing that information with my bestfriend, the logical course of action would be that after a bitch of a week, she would drop in for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. AND she hooked us up with some German liverwurst. Yeah, my hubby really likes it.

The best laid plans and all that. Himself wanted to go out to eat because of one of his many hankerings. The Boy was all about that, so I went along for the ride--um, the meal.

And then I went home and took a rather enjoyable grilling from an editor who has enough faith in me to take the time for a grilling. That's incredible. And even though my brain cells are sore, and I think I see what I need to do, the ego, surprisingly, is in-tack. That's what I call people skills!

So, having abanondoned my friend, I see that she took two-hundred and forty-three of those stupid on-line quizzes. I should have been available.

I took one [see above] and it sufficiently amused me. Actually, I was far more amused that she turned out to be a "diseased magician."

Somehow, I kinda like the Assassin bit, but dying in childbirth doesn't quite match. Think about it.

just thinking outloud

If I was one of Castro's minions, I would hold off on releasing the news of his death until Sunday about mid-afternoon for maximum chaos in Miami.


I lost count so I have to start over

the saga continues

This morning I was listening to an NPR segment on a post-Soviet Russia, and how from a business perspective, it is ranked in the lowest quarter for good places to do business. It has a growing oil production business that isn't getting credibility because there is so much corruption within the government and the industry.

It's a shame, but it has everything to do with the terrible conditions found under the communist regime. When the people are oppressed, they find creative ways to do things, I suppose. Bribery and corruption become the real currency.

Anyway, it makes me think of the conversation I was having with my dad earlier this week. He is optimistic about the possibilites in Cuba with a post-Castro government. I am not so optimistic. The people have been used to corruption and bribery and fear for almost 5 decades. Suddenly, they are going to understand a free economy?

I'm betting on seeing the ugly underbelly of capitalism distorted into a different, but equally oppressive gang mentality, instead of the opportunity to work hard and make a good living.

Maybe I'm too cynical. Maybe the effects of a welfare state are profoundly devastating. After looking to Russia and seeing the problems there, it's not a big leap to imagine that Cuba will be the same, as it was a mere puppet and satellite, first of the Communist lies, and then, specifically, of Castro's distorted perception and totalitarianism.

I hope I am wrong, and the Cuban spirit is stronger than the physical destruction imposed upon it.


33,077

is this a great country, or what?

I've cropped the letter to avoid the creepy stalker thing, but my niece's school sent this home. If you see the headlines coming out of Miami, there's a great deal of elation over Castro's ill health. My earlier post focuses on the tasteless joy at his impending demise, but at least the Archdiocese of Miami is using charitable language.

Of course, we all know how to handle the nuances of euphemism. "In the case of a change of government in Cuba...."

I'm guessing what they really mean is "when that arrogant son-of-a-bitch assassin dies...."

The concern here is that pandemonium will erupt in the city. Several things can happen. Crazy people will take to the streets in celebration, creating a scenario much like a riot. In fact, I'm sure the plan is to prepare for rioting. I suppose raucous behavior is still a riot--and there will be people out to pillage and plunder. What a shame; what a crying shame.

The second eventuality is a state of chaos in Cuba--U.S. authorities are preparing for a mass exodus from the island--to the tune of a million people. Insane!

I'd drive down to check out the scene, but the truth is, it has the potential to be really crazy.

Nevertheless, I am totally expecting somebody to hook me up with the T-shirt, m'kay?

update on Elaine

She's out of ICU and seems to be stable and, hopefully, out of danger. Things are looking good.

I wonder if she'll be able to play the violin?


32,074

peeling movies and killing beetles

Sounds weird? I think so, too.

I've got this on-line class that I teach and settled into the evening waiting for the messages from students (that never arrive---I guess they're all gonna get A's or F's).

I see my husband intently concentrating at his desk, so I ask him that ever-original question: Whatcha doin?

I know I don't get points for creativity, but I wasn't expecting his answer:

"Peeling movies and killing beetles."

Apparently he has ordered a bazillion movies from some cheap on-line source and the package came in. He was peeling off the wrappers and struggling with the obnoxious strip of tape that seals the box. To entertain himself he played some RPG that involved killing giant beetles for some valuable drop. It's all Greek to me.

for Laura
31,109

dang cold or bitter cold?

How do you classify it when it is so cold that your body is not reconciled to the cold?

I can put on a coat, wear warm pants and good winter shoes, put on a goofy knit cap and wrap myself in yards of scarves, and still feel that penetrating cold that hurts every pore in my body. Let's not even talk about what it does to my lungs.

I'm going home to make some hot chocolate.

30,290

HA HA HA HA HA ! ! !

There's a trip to the confessional in here somewhere, but I'm not quite at that place yet.

Check out this hysterical headline: Miami Planning a Party at the Orange Bowl When Castro Dies.

That's just too much.

29,667

They made me do it

Blogger finally hijacked my login and made me switch to the new version.

No hard feelings--but a warning to those of you who haven't--it's coming!

We'll see how this works. I've already been using the new version with some other accounts, so it shouldn't be a big deal. This post is mostly for me to get one done and work out any potential kinks. I'll be back to my regularly unscheduled posts later.


28, 082

Nude jogger? Gross

I'm wondering if the people in this article would change their tune if the guy was built. It just seems that the focus is on the fact that the guy is out of shape (he gets no credit for trying to get in shape?).

Just thinking out loud on this one folks. Having witnessed a nude vollyball game on Virgina Beach in Key Biscayne, Florida back when it was a nude beach in 1981, I can say with definitive authority that people should wear clothes when exercising. Those Greek urns? Yeah, they capture a picture of those athletes frozen in mid action. It'd be a different situation if those urns were animated.

Oh, and Moma and Dad, I was on a field trip for Geology. We went there to study groins.

Note: Okay you naughty people, go read the link. It's an actual geologic term. Of course, I'm not commenting on the obvious....

the thing about writing other stuff...

...is that I get here, and just stare at the screen. It's like there's only a finite number of words that I am capable of producing, and once I have hit that limit...that's it--shut off mode.

It's a shame, really, I mean, I guess in a typical day I could have maybe 3 or 4 hours of writing, if I managed my time well.

Except, who said I manage my time well? I steal half an hour herea, an hour there, and maybe it adds up to a few hours. Anyway, my quota was met and exceeded yesterday and today with a series of things that had to be written, and not one, NOT ONE was for pleasure.

Sheesh. This is mostly to stave off the nasty commentary from she-who-shall-remain-nameless. It's for naught. I can hear the comment now: Nice. Another excuse for not finishing the novel.

For your information, when writers find other stuff to do instead of writing, it's called "vacuuming the cat." As in, there's something far more important to do than write.




Of course, it's silly for me to vacuum a cat. I don't have one. But we have vacuumed the dog when he was shedding copiously. Or I could blog.

where's the Raid roach spray?

I'm sitting at my desk tonight, minding my own business, answering e-mails, checking up on my on-line class, brainstorming in the most exciting intellectual endeavor I've been involved with in a long time, and Jonathan limps in to watch John play some War Video game.

I can't ignore the conversation--it's taking place 5 feet from me, and it goes like this:

Jon: How's it going?

John: It's been a rough time.

Jon: Oh, what's that?

John: I just finished killing Zergs.

Jon: Zergs? With what?

John: Zerg against Zerg.

Jon: Man!

Can anyone decode this? There isn't a decoder ring in the Cocoa Puffs. I think it may be hormonal.

Happy Birthday Old Man!

We love you Ginormous!

Bego, John, Vicky, Christy, and Jonathan

Today is the 20th, yeah!

A year ago today, I started this blog. I was gonna get all mushy and thank everybody, especially my friends over at Ink and Doodle, where a Friday column called Ruminations eventually turned into this blog, and then I was gonna find all kinds of cool links to brilliant writing advice and stuff, and it was just going to be a grand celebration.

And then Jonathan broke his ankle.

Yeah, that pretty much put a damper on the writing for the evening. Mental note: why do broken ankles happen on Saturday nights when I'm being the responsible adult? Yeah I'm razzing you, Miss Annie. Anyway, it wouldn't be a trip to the emergency room without the requisite viewing of a drugged out criminal in shackles being shadowed by his police guard, but that's another story.

So here we are, home again. Jonathan is being all hard core and refusing pills. He's calculated joyously that he won't have to walk the dog, and I pointed out maliciously that when he's better, Christy will have a nice vacation from walking the dog. Pays me now or pays me later, baby.

Anyway, probably in the history of the world, no one has broken an ankle at a Math Competition, so this is a first. A few people in the ER had already heard the news, so the wiseacre of a doctor wanted to know if the boy had tripped over some trigonometric calculations. Haha, he thinks he has jokes. Not.

So, I guess I'm not finishing the novel tonight, either.

It's Snowing (HA!)

Yeah, winter precipitation in Georgia is kinda like watching those ridiculous American Idol auditions. There's just no kind way to laugh out loud at the ludicrousness of it. I just got a textmessage from Vicky alerting me to the exciting news that, at least downtown, it's snowing.

What does that mean in our fair city? Well, first, the news has been all over the threat of this crazy front that's coming through today (and last night). They put out all kinds of winter warnings, advice about road closings, alerts about school closings, etc.

It was all for naught. Nothing. Nada. A little rain that sometimes might have had a little sleet mixed in, but nothing, nothing even remotely approaching an ice storm.

How do the citizens of this fair burg respond? Everybody goes out and buys milk and bread. It's the most curious behavior I've ever seen. I mean, wouldn't you go out and get sterno refills? Firewood? Refills for necessary medicines? Canned spaghettio's?

I would, but that's me. I've actually driven through blizzards, so an 1/8th of an inch of snow isn't going to put me out, even though it literally shuts down the city.I can even understand that. After all, it doesn't usually snow here, so the DOT doesn't have all the resources that, say, Buffalo has, so the icy roads + people who don't know how to drive in this weather + cars that aren't equipped with proper tires = potential carnage. Go ahead and shut down the city.

But please, leave me some milk and bread.

Faux Klingons?

Um, I definitely thought they were fake, as in fiction to begin with.

Anyway, the problem with taking a break from blogging, is not so much that I'm not writing, but that I'm not reading either, and so I managed to miss this little nugget.

For your viewing pleasure, here's a congressman from Oregon describing the White House in Star Trek terms. My beloved Star Trek is being dragged through the political quagmire that is Iraq. I am so sad for this guy.



Anyway, it ends with a bit about Bush that I don't necessarily subscribe to, but then again, he said he'd like to be a dictator, so fair is fair. The alternative site running the video, however, was less my cup of tea than this one. Enjoy, and have a laugh or two.

when somebody else says it better

So I read Wil Wheaton's blog. Can you possibly be surprised if you know me? He was Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: The Next Generation, so that explains it, right? I stumbled across it a few years ago, and then got sidetracked and forgot about it and rediscovered him last year. Admittedly, I read it initially because it was Wil Wheaton of Wesley Crusher infamy. I stayed around and became a fan because he's a brilliant writer.

I don't always agree with everything he posts, and some of his venues (not his work, necessarily) are not always appropriate for work (because of the ads, mostly), but I suppose I could bypass that by reading from a feed. But then, I'd miss out on some of the pictures and stuff.

Anyway, his posts are about his writing, his family, the cool technology stuff that I wish I understood and want to work with, if only to be able to keep up with what's happening, and a beautifully crafted nostalgic geekiness for things that I remember in the 70's and especially 80's, even though I'm 10 years older than him. In short, it's an eclectic collection of his thoughts---something like what I aspire to here.

This post is a must read for those of you who are working on creative projects, or on your own creativity, or want to create, or are just plain curious now that I've given it such a fabulous introduction. It's not just the post, btw. Read the responses to it in the comment section, and read the link to an article by a guy who came up with a mathematical formula for procrastination.

I'm so happy

Check it out. I was finally able to get something posted over at Rosary Army! Hurray! Okay, so here it is, lamer than usual, but up and rolling.

And by the way, thanks to those of you who donated during the fund drive. It means a whole bunch of new cool things will be happening this year.

Jan 12 of 12

Here we go again. Thanks to Chad and his idea, and everybody else that posts theirs, too. My day, uneventful, until the car became possessed and I almost killed myself and my co-worker. More on that at the bottom. So, like I said, here we go...

Got up way late because frankly, I just stared at the ceiling instead of getting up. It's 7 am, and I'm still not out of the house, even though I have a class at 8:20

---

I was further delayed because I knew I wouldn't have time to stop at my favorite QuikTrip for the best coffee ever. So I made my own latte, with whole milk (heresy! but it tastes so good) and now that I think of it, a cuter picture would have been my tiny espresso pot, but whatever, I was still a bit groggy at 7.

---

So I hit the road, it's still dark outside, and what do I encounter? A train. Of course. Because the people who run trains obviously feel that the best time to ride through a city moving slowly (may I quote Miranda Priestly--AT THE SPEED OF A GLACIER!) is during rush hour at like, 7:45 am.

---

After working diligently for many hours, and feeling that I had had about all I could take, I ran away for a bit and had a human lunch, instead of wolfing down some disgusting frozen salt mine (have you read the label on those things? 93% of your recommended daily intake of sodium). No wonder I have high blood pressure. I will refrain from putting down a time, as it could be incriminating.

---

Went to pick up the kids (plural), and only found one. She wasn't happy to see me. Actually, the face is a reaction to the roaring engine. Something is wrong with the car. It was lurching and revving, and generally not very safe sounding. Shortly after this picture was taken, I pulled into a spot to wait for the other one to get out of a meeting, and the car sounded like it was going to take off and lurched again.

---

I called the knight in shining armor to pick me up at the mechanic, who is just a little ways down the street.

---

So I took a nap and drooled...

---

While "The Good One" played with the camera and took pictures of weird visions in the sky. I would say it looks like the Anarchy symbol, but she got all excited about The Scarlet Letter, which she just read last semester, so in a moment of geeky joy, took the picture to her teacher, who immediately got all giddy and joyous about...some clouds.

---

Of course, we were stuck at the mechanic waiting for our ride. This would be Jonathan's typical face of aggravation because he was hungry, and our detour to the mechanic cut into his refrigerator-bonding time. It's not even 5 o'clock yet.

---

So my last three pictures from my day are as follow: a cute shot of the boy watching a movie with the dog, me scarfing down some oreos, and a picture of the movie I'm going to watch. The pictures are fabulous. Blogger is being a bitch, and I can't upload them. Went to flickr to post them from there. Nothing. Nada. Not to make excuses, but this is why there wasn't a 12 of 12 in December. So, use your imagination. Or don't. I don't care. I'm frustrated, and tired, and I'm going to bed--it's been a long day.

a female Beefeater?

I thought it was just a bottle of gin.

OK, bad joke. Nevertheless, a bit of history coming at us from England. Moira Cameron will be the first woman to serve as the Queen's (wo)man. Cool. What's next, female Swiss guards? Why not. Anyway, here's the article to entertain you today while I snap my pictures and do the year's first...

12 of 12.

Got milk?

Sometimes it's just the kind of day that requires cookies and milk. It brings me back to kindergarten days. The comfort of playing hard and getting a break with real cold milk and the king of all cookies, the champion of the universe, the sublime, the ethereal: The Oreo.

When it's double stuff, all the better.

So I'm having one of those moments with a small glass of milk and a couple of oreos. Magnificent. I can now face the rest of the evening: a trip back to the high school for a rehearsal, a jaunt to the bookstore for a much-needed book, a load of laundry, another 1500 words for the novel.

Yep. I can do it!

Yvonne De Carlo died!

She was 84. I am sooo sad. I loved her! I wanted to be her. In fact, I stopped dying my hair so I could look like Lily Munster.

She was also in one of my favorite John Wayne flicks, McLintock, even though I'm pretty done with the whole John Wayne spanking women in his movies.

Alas, another Hollywood beauty goes to the Great Film Festival in the Sky.

Che, and the girl next door

subtitled: adventures in random roommates

Vic, somewhat hesitant to find herself rooming with a complete stranger, accepted an invitation to room with a classmate from high school. Initially, perhaps not a bad idea. In practice, let's just say that their world views were sufficiently different to cause some discomfort and...awkward situations.

Both being decent, if not necessarily on the same page regarding men, they parted amicably, albeit not on the 'friends list' with each other.

Such is life. Rodney King's lamentation, "Why can't we all just get along," comes to mind.

Embracing the ever optimistic youthful outlook typical of, pardon my redundancy, youth, Vic put in a bid for a new roommate, thinking that she already had some badluck, it couldn't get any worse. Ah, it's that arrogant challenge that we throw at the Fates that gets us in trouble. Never say it can't get any worse. It's usually an open invitation for just that.

Roomie #2 has been missing in action since before the end of last term, when the exchange was granted and Vic began the tedious process of moving all her belonging into a another building. After cajoling the housing staff, they allowed her access to the room in order to drop off her stuff.

So, what does she encounter upon walking into the room? This.

A giant flag of Che Guevara.

What are the odds? I can't bring myself to post the actual picture, so you'll have to make do with the banned Che pic. To quote my uncle Jorge, "I really didn't dig that guy. He was an uptight Argentinian...ASSASSIN."

It started a wave of speculation, however. The girl finally made an appearance yesterday for a brief moment, and then later today, she stopped by for a brief, but engaging visit with Vic. It turns out that the chick is a Communist.

OMG.

Can this be real? When she saw that Vicky had put up a Cuban flag on her wall, she was clued in to the fact that it was probably not a good thing to have Che's portrait up, in the interest of personal relations. As it happens, she's living with her boyfriend, who accompanied her on the visit. A Chinese guy. Another Communist.

The report is that she was very pleasant, and that she wouldn't be hanging around too much, so Vic pretty much has the whole room to herself. Party on, dudette.

Meanwhile, whatever you do, please don't say it could be worse.

David Bowie turns 60 today

And I am not surprised that he is a mere 16 years older than me. Why that seems to impress me has something to do with the frightening realization that somehow, 16 years isn't so much, and then the next even more frightening realization, that perhaps I am closer to 60 than I previously thought. The funny thing is, all this time I thought I was still 19. Feh.

The thing is, I'm not a particularly intense fan of Bowie. Sure, I enjoyed "Fame." Okay, I played "Fame" all the time when I was an angst-riddent teenager, and I think The Man Who Fell to Earth is brilliant, and later, I really liked the sound of "Golden Years."

On second thought, maybe I was a kind of Bowie fan.

Except, I can't stand that duet he sang with Bing Crosby on one of Crosby's Christmas specials, back in the day when entertainers actually had Christmas specials. It was painful, and I'm not particularly fond of Bing Crosby either.

Anyway, happy birthday Ziggy.

Rocket Men!

Here they are: they managed to keep all their fingers.

Peace Jesus

I imagine that this requires some explanation, and unfortunately to get to the explanation, you need some back history...

Last year, the Amazing Red Hat Lady gave us a game called "Visual Eyes." It's a great deal of family fun that requires players to think outside the box and create pairs of words that go together. Twenty dice with pictures are thrown, and players have to create matches based on what they see. For example, a die with a mountain, and a die with a spinning top can pair up and become "mountain top."

The game is tough because of two reasons. First, you have to be clever in pairing the dice, because if someone else has your pair, both of you lose that point. The second part is that the group as a whole decides if a combination will be acceptable. Sometimes, a bit of convincing is necessary in order to save a combo. Most of the time, once a case is made the group will accept it untless it is way out there.

Case in point: Peace Jesus.

Critter drew a grave with a cross marker, and a peace sign. Her answer? Peace Jesus. Cue the ugly gameshow buzzer. No one was going to let that go, but she went ahead to plead her case. No way. Ever. Peace Jesus?

The real competition was between me and Achi, who thinks so far outside the box, that he might be in someone else's box. That, and he is the most anal retentive game-rule person ever. There is no such thing as standard practices in his book. In fact, I wonder if he could ever play Monopoly with all the house rules we have. What a goober.

Nevertheless, I knew from the beginning that he would be a threat. As it happens, we ended the game in a tight score, thanks to LULY WHO TOTALLY PNWNED ME!

How did a five-year old manage to cancel two of my plays?

Inch worm.

She can't even spell yet. Luly drew the pictures and just read the combinations to us when it was her turn. And she killed me.

note to self: don't play words games with little kids.

OMG a real tornado!

So today was a crummy day in Atlanta, weather-wise. The interminable rain is a real bummer, but to make things difficult, severe warnings were up in just about every county.I work in a tomb, a cinderblock room in the interior of a building, so I was clueless about how seriously bad the weather was outside. When my colleague returned from a doctor's appointment sometime close to noon, she asked me if I had checked on my kids, assuming that they were at home. I told her no, that they were at school, and if there was foul weather, they were probably safer there than at home.

Don't you know a few minutes later Christy calls to see if I am OK. Hmm. Why? Oh, because they were hit by what they are insisting was a microburst at their school.She went on to tell me in great detail that they were told to move into the halls in preparation for a tornado hit, and then things really got exciting. The side of the building that she was in took the brunt of the hit from the winds and debris, and then suddenly, the doors on both ends of the hallway (crash doors that only open out) were blown open from the inside out. She said it was amazingly windy, and debris was blowing everywear, and the teacher moved them back into one of the classrooms again, and then it was over.

She said there was a lot of damage to the school, and that she was going to find Jonathan and call me back. She knew he was on the other side of the school, and so he was probably safer than she was, so off she went. True enough, his experience was a little different. When I spoke to him, he was very nonchalant, but he knew things weren't good. When they were told it was not a drill and to move it, he grabbed the obligatory book to cover his head with. I asked him if he took a new hardback novel that he just got for Christmas, and he scoffed at me. "No, I took my geography book--it's the thickest book I have." Smart kid. Anyway, his report was interesting, because he said he could hear everything that was going on; it was very loud, with the wind and debris swirling past them, and he could hear the straining of the stadium roof as it was being peeled off. Crazy scary!

Here's a link to the video.I don't know how long the video will be available. Such excitement!

Jackpot!

Is it possible? Have I made a mistake? Am I not reading the fine print somewhere?

While logging in to my aim account, I discovered aol's In2TV, which runs cartoons and other classic television shows on the web for free.

I watched an episode of The Jetsons, and there are so many others available--including Babylon 5 (the old one).

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, but being so technologically impaired, perhaps this is something that has been around forever and I am only now discovering it.

Retardedly yours,
Begs

back in the grind

So here I am in the relentlessly odious registration pool, waiting on the students to go through and register, the vast majority first time students, confused, and inexperienced. Makes me feel all maternal and everything.

NOT!

But hey, it pays the bills, and so one does what one is expected to do. Meanwhile, my room dawg is reading over my shoulder to see just what I might be writing about her! HA!

It's a long day, but doesn't come close to the nightmare that John experienced yesterday with his inventory, so even in my suffering, I realize that it could always be worse. Unfortunately, I just can't get any serious work done, because there are continuous interuptions.

Alas, this is the romantic notion of teaching college?

The obligatory post about New Year's Resolutions

First, let me just say that I will resist the urge to list all the impossible bad habits that I wish I didn't have, and how, because it's the first day of the year, I'm going to decide to change all of them. Thus, I will not resolve to lose all the weight that I am unnecessarily, and dangerously carrying around. Nor will I write a million dollar best seller that will be optioned by a movie studio and make me filty rich beyond my dreams. I won't travel to exotic foreign places such as Sri Lanka or Machu Pichu. And after 43 years of living as a slob and considering fast food a delectable alternative to going grocery shopping and cooking, I will not magically turn into Martha Stewart (I don't even like crafts).

However, this time of year does seem to encourage some people to evaluate their lives, and ponder making changes for the best. The problem is in making these gigantical declarations to make impossible changes. How can we succeed? It sets us up for failure, at least me. You see, I don't have a realistic set of expectations, and definitely, the plans start with the fatal words, "I wish...."

Therefore, I resolve this year to eat healthier as often as I can (if that means sitting down to dinner and ordering water instead of Coke, so be it). I will finish my novel and publish it, even if publishing means posting the PDF here. I will take one gratuitous trip somewhere, even if it means I drive up into the mountains of Georgia instead of a more coveted trip to say, New York. And finally, I will paint my living room. Not exactly Martha, but I might even get all wild and paint one wall red.

So that's it. I think that maybe writing down some goals that I can work on may be a better ticket to good health, both mental and physical, than sitting by the mimosa this morning (hey, why waste the leftover champagne?) dreaming BIG without any plans for execution.

Good luck to me.

Happy New Year!

I stuffed 12 grapes in my mouth and ate them up--all gone!

what kind of goofy stuff did you do? We finished a very long game of Mexican Dominoes that ended right at midnight, and now, we'll watch a movie and fall asleep.

I love being old--I don't have to make excuses for not wanting to do anything.

Bahahah!

I hope 2007 brings health, blessings, and contentment.

In the immortal words of the Rolling Stones:

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes, well you might find
You get what you need

The Year in Review

I actually worked on this post over a period of a few days, mostly because it occurred to me that I have been blogging for almost a year, and that the review was going to take some time and thought. It’s the only writing project that I’ve really had the discipline to work on [almost] every day, and it’s been a great deal of fun. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have.

One of the things that I have learned on this adventure is that unlike other kinds of writing, where I might be very protective of my intellectual property (okay, make fun of that word: intellectual), this world is very fluid. The whole point seems to be to share across the boundaries. Ideas get used, revised, reworked, and shared again. For example, the idea for this year in review came from this blogger.

I’ve just listed the first line of the first entry for that month here. I’ve also added some commentary and a picture from that month that may or may not relate to the first post. Hope you enjoy.

January—January 20, 2006: A little bit of chapstick and a re-release of Ramsey Lewis' greatest hits from the 1960's transported me to my childhood faster than I imagined possible. That was my first post ever, and got me started on this crazy roller coaster.

February--Mitvoch: I hate Wednesdays; they fall so inconveniently in the middle of the week. I guess some of my statements are a bit "out there." This is one of those posts about the recurring theme of time management (or lack of it).

March--Turn away from sin!:So it's another Ash Wednesday and Lent is upon us. The passage of time, or rather, the surprise with which I realize that another year has passed keeps cropping up. Who knew I could be so obsessed with mortality? All of this from a little bit of ashes.

April--Relaxation, or bust: It's gonna be bust. The dynamics of having three kids and a new job is that schedules are often conflicting. The end of the school year is always hectic, and this year it was moreso because of Vicky's graduation, Christy's confirmation, and I started working full-time after an almost 10 year hiatus.

May--Somebody is being a busy comment[er]:I'm watching you. Someone had commented on like 7 posts within a span of several minutes. I know who it is, obviously...my dearest friend, a slacker blogger herself. We all love the feedback. Gotta have the feedback. So, feel free to post a comment, y'all.

June-- What? No update?:Am I the only one that ever keeps up with this? That snide comment was directed at Achi, who started a blog and lost interest...what else is new? Oh, sure, he has a family to support. I get it.

July--Pastelitos for me!:Check back later for a report on how absolutely delicious and tasty they are (were- I did say I was gonna eat 'em). A wild trip to Miami for food. Oh, and to say hi to the folks.

August-- a week of sadness, joy, and in Miami--elation:The week, and the school year started off with the tragic news that one of our football players died of heat stroke….In a different reaction to death, we also lost our beloved Fr. Charles, who died Tuesday morning….And of course...Who can deny the elation at Castro's apparent demise? Back to mortality. Funny how three different deaths can have such different responses. We're still waiting on that last one....

September-- Ga Tech will dominate (maybe):but all I'm interested in is the half-time show! We know how that ended, but ACC football is still exciting, and the Gator Bowl, while not the Orange Bowl, is still going to be exciting.

October-- Out of the mouths of fools:Some politicians (some?) just need to keep their mouths shut, like this idiot who advocates sterilizing bad parents. Sometimes the news is just amazing.

November-- NaNoWriMo: Day 1:Feverish writing: 2,433 words. I failed to finish the novel. Alas. No one takes me seriously except Rob. I did get 25,000 words, and the random urging to finish it. Maybe next year....

December-- My Computer Blew Up!!!!:OK, it was more like a less dramatic implosion. I've had my share of computer woes this year, but luckily my knight in shining armor has managed to fix them.

The nativity scene from St. Peter's Square

This lovely picture was sent to me by our man in Rome, Jaime. Beautiful!

Merry Christmas

from the Gospel of Luke

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them,

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born
this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Merry Christmas Eve!

We are already in celebration mode, and Christy insisted upon a port wine cheese log. Celebrate today, constipate tomorrow is her motto.

Actually, there's great excitement of baking and cooking going on. John and Jonathan have put together the pork roast, with an obscene amount of mojo, but the kitchen smells awesome. Christy is a baking fiend, making a variety of cookies, and I'll dabble in some lemon bars later.

And Vick is doing what she does best, sampling the food. What a kid for not liking to cook. But she makes up for it in eating everything.

Christmas music is finally allowed, between strains of AC/DC and scandalous R & B, so I'm happy. Except, on that musical theme, I just heard that stupid Christmas song by the Beach Boys, the one that has the dumbest line in history: Christmas comes this time each year.

Duh.

Merry Christmas everybody!

It's Christmas Eve Eve!

My goodness, can't we just eat the good food and open the presents? Please? Pretty Please?

I'm making lethal rumballs, and ate a package of frozen pizza rolls (ok, cooked), and then I was totally pnwed in a game of Risk.

I hate Risk. It takes longer to play than Monopoly. Still, after pwning everyone in Visual Eyes the other night, I guess it was only fair to offer up a loss for the good of the males in the family. I lost, even after cheating openly by putting out a random cannon.

If women ruled the world, there would be no war. Either because we wouldn't wage it, or because we'd lose in a matter of moments. After three rounds of the game, I was ready to surrender.

Done. Finished. Finis.

After tonight's Christmas party, caroling fest, and double feature at the movies, we'll be done. No more going anywhere. No more shopping. No more leaving the house except for church. I'm doing the Snoopy happy dance.

And then Vicky announces that she needs to buy a toilet seat.

What am I do make of that?

Unable to let this go

I actually went on-line and did some research.

• here's the wiki article
• and yet another
• and finally, this one

How would you like to put this out with cookies and milk? Check out the little guy's Santa hat. I'll reserve comment on the turdlettes.

This one is for Pop [el caganer!]

Who else could possibly appreciate the disgusting and comical references in THIS ARTICLE?

Apparently, those wacky Spaniards (let me be specific, the Catalans, as I don't want to sully the reputation of those other Spaniards that comprise my heritage) have a Christmas celebration that includes, OMG of all things: a defecating peasant.

I read this with abject horror, thinking that perhaps it was somehow the epitome of bad taste and anti-Christianity, only the article explains that defecation is a sign of fertility and good health. Ok. Let me think about that a bit.

No. NOT!

Let me just state, for the record, that there will be no pooping peasant in my nativity, thankyouverymuch.

Have a nice day.

A Star Wars character quiz, because I couldn't find the pimp names

You are EMPEROR PALPATINE!

I am so depressed. I want a do-over.

Try it here. I can't imagine things getting any worse than Palpatine.

One good turn deserves another

I got a quiz from Rob. Ha! After starting a spate of quiz after quiz! Here's mine. What a surprise. I think I knew when it asked me how I felt about Algebra.

You Are 15% Left Brained, 85% Right Brained

The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning. Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others. If you're left brained, you are likely good at math and logic. Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet. The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility. Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way. If you're right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art. Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

Are You Right or Left Brained?

My robot vision wasn't so crazy, huh?

The Japanese government has hosted robot awards. See? Maybe thinking about robots, and my secret desire to have my very own, though not sarcastic, Rosie isn't in left field after all. Check out the article. The motivation is to take care of an aging population. I am particularly intrigued by their choice of seals as a petable object. Just sayin'.

Shame on me

It was a matter of time before my charitable mood ran out and I found something to mock. Our neighbors at the back entrance to our development kindly provided fodder for said mockery. These people have turned into the freaky eyesore that we once were with John's artificial reef in the yard (aka, a '44 Mercedes with suicide doors that had sentimental value, but really, it was a giant rust heap--it did serve a purpose, as a litter of cats was born in it, but that's another story).

I digress. These people, our neighbors, periodically do some kind of yardwork and clean up that usually results in weird items left on the curb. For example, the front screen door has fallen off the hinges. Granted, most people around here enter through the garage, so maybe they were unaware that the door was hanging askew. One wonders. Anyway, one day we drive by, and they have removed the old shutters from the front of the house, and replaced them with new, freshly painted shutters. Nice.

We look on the trash pile, and there are the offending shutters.

Where was the broken screen door? Still hanging from the doorframe by a screw, all bent and fallen over.

So, it comes as no surprise to me that yesterday, while driving through the neighborhood looking at the pretty lights, we should encounter their Christmas contribution to street's decor: A giant, rusted waterheater. I was foolish enough to think it could have been something festive. I mean, I saw a tall thing in the front yard, it was twilight--who knew? Some Santa Robot, or something? How silly of me.

and now I'll hide from Linda, who will gently remind me again that there's no forgiveness where there's no remorse

More time wasters--I know you do them

So this particular quiz made me laugh because it says my match is a Mt. Dew. How funny is that? For those of you who know me well, there's a Mt. Dew fiend living in this house. I'd get up and take a picture of the fridge, but I'm just too cozy and comfy at the moment.

You Are Coke

A true original and classic, you represent the best of everything you can offer. Just the right amount of sweet, just the right amount of energy... you're the life of the party. Your best soda match: Mountain Dew Stay away from:Dr Pepper

What Kind of Soda Are You?

aaaaaaah!

School's out today. Exams will be over by this afternoon. That means nobody is getting up at 6 am tomorrow!Yay. Or not. It depends on how you feel about having gigantic teenagers sulking around the house.

I can count on one of them sleeping through the whole day trying to catch up on what scientists tell us is impossible: lost sleep.

One will no doubt be playing music that I don't like, or...watching scary, gross, frightening movies all day.

And the third one will be on a constant mission for food.

And what about me? I should be finishing Darknet. Instead, I think I'll clean out the refrigerator.

I need something to do

Get this widget!

Attention cynics and people who like to waste time

My friend Laura posted some quizzes over at her fabulous little bloghome, and so I posted them here (scroll down). Just another silly quiz you say? Even if you habitually skip the quizzes give this one a shot--it has surprised a bunch of people already.

Oh, and I really do love the number 13.

Can you tell I'm on vacation and avoiding laundry like the plague? This is like post # 4 in an hour. Maybe I should go do something productive.

Seasonal Silliness

Okay! The pink candle went up yesterday! That means Christmas is a week away. Oh, the anticipation, the waiting...the anxiety about shopping.

This is the week that we'll jump in the car and ride around town looking for the ubiquitous home that mixes and matches all things Walmart in an effort to create the perfect lawn display.

We give awards for the most tasteful displays, even though there's a great deal of debate within the family about the appropriate choice for lights. Some of us like the simple white lights, understanding that less is more and there is great beauty in being understated and classy. Others, who shall remain nameless, have the philosophy that more is more, the gaudier the better, and prefer to not only have a vomitosis of multiple colors, but must also have the epilepsy attack inducing blinking and chasing lights--mixed up! so that some parts are merely blinking, and others are chasing, and some are chasing AND blinking. We love said family member all the same, but we really need an intervention.

We reserve all of our sarcasm and wit for the folks who so sweetly abandon theme altogether, and have the juxtaposition of Santa Claus and Baby Jesus together, not just in the same part of the yard, but side-by-side.

Who knew Santa Claus was one of the wisemen? I love the cheesy Santa kneeling at the Baby's manger, bringing milk and cookies. I am always astounded by the vision of camels and palm trees surrounded by Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph, and a candycane field--or, could those be the shepherds staffs?

We laugh and point our fingers, and engage in all kinds of mockery, but there must be some redeeming aspect of our outing, doncha think?

Indeed, it is in the joy of family and friends being together and having fun. We can understand that the true meaning of Christmas, Christ's Mass, the birth of our Savior, is what this is about. Christmas is the biggest birthday party of the year; it's a lot of fun to celebrate. But the camaraderie, the fun, the JOY must center around the birth of our Lord. Even plastic Santa gets it, when he kneels before the Baby. Remember that this joyous celebration carries with it a great deal of sobering Truth, that this babe in swaddling cloths has come to save us.

And another one

You're Catch-22!

by Joseph Heller

Incredibly witty and funny, you have a taste for irony in all that you
see. It seems that life has put you in perpetually untenable situations, and your sense
of humor is all that gets you through them. These experiences have also made you an
ardent pacifist, though you present your message with tongue sewn into cheek. You
could coin a phrase that replaces the word "paradox" for millions of
people.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Oh my, more quizzes

You're Colgate University!

With a background of wealth and privilege, you have perhaps
a bit more notoriety than you truly deserve. You have benefited richly from
a case of mistaken identity, perhaps on more than one occasion. You yourself
are out there... way out there, but you find your isolation to be comforting
and prefer scenery to people. You frequently watch "60 Minutes" and most
enjoy the humorous segments at the end. You love the number 13.


Take the University Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I want to thank Mom and Dad. And God.

Time publishes it's Person of the Year tomorrow, and I won!

Um, so did you. Actually, it's anyone using the World Wide Web. How 'bout that for a cop-out, I mean, a cool thing. Actually, the Time people suggested if they had gone with an individual, it would have been that scumbag from Iran. Good choice, Time. I like me.

You can read one of the articles about it here.

coming up for air

So, sorry for my prolonged absence. I haven't figured out how to bilocate, and it seems that when final exams approach that everybody wants a piece of me. Even with my skillful use of the word, "No," I still find myself in a position of saying "yes."

To be fair, my "yesses" tend to mean something, and while they are far and in-between (what is the correct American idiom---can I claim a cultural void here?), they are still time-consuming (in a good way).

Since my last post, I attended a beautiful performance of the Messiah, administered final exams to five classes, graded 103 final exams, 68 research papers, 37 grammar tests, and attended three faculty meetings, two commitee meetings (one on-line!), answered 42 email requests to give extra credit, and fielded uncounted text messages from the offspring, and attended a frightening and eye-opening presentation by a homeland security agent. There was also a cross country banquest, and of course, the college Christmas party. Kudos to them for calling it a Christmas party and having Christmas trees, and a creche. A creche! With the baby Jesus. Intriguing. It was at a baptist church with a banquet facility (beautiful). It had the obligatory dried chicken, but everything else was exquisite.

And now, I am sitting in my office blogging, because there is nothing else to do around here. We "Meetinged" through lunch, so two rum balls, a piece of fudge, and a big candycane are all I have in my system.

I am starved.

The good news is that I'm off until next year! Sounds nice.

a goofy pun, cuz I'm an English teacher

What do you call Santa's helpers?

subordinate Clauses

Today's the 12th!

Time to finish the year with the last 12 of 12 of 2006. I am woefully behind already, since John has my camera, so in the meantime, here's a "rendition" of my route to work, taken from an earlier 12 of 12.



Don't know what I'm talking about? Check out Chad Darnell's site, he of the brilliant idea to document our human experience across timezones, language, and culture.

Do it--it's not too late, and you'll have fun. Unless you are on blogger, then it's going to be hit or miss with the pictures (oh, I'm just bitter about another blogger-related incident--how could I really complain about a freee service?).

600 Stories

But I can only share mine.

I joined a group of youth from our parish to feed the hungry and homeless at a soup kitchen.

A soup kitchen! It all sounded so bizarrely Cannery Row, or something.

We arrived sometime after 7 am at a beautiful church in downtown Atlanta, The Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. The church basement was already a busy beehive of activity, with people cooking, and setting up the makeshift parish hall (not what the new churches have--this is really a basement, painted in a gaudy green, but incredibly functional). Old pews line one of the walls, and well-used and battle-weary tables were set out in what later proved to be efficient and manageable dining sections.

The guy directing all that human traffic, Ted, is a delightful retired Government employee--let's call him an engineer because if he isn't I'm pretty surprised--this guy seemed to be disorganized and thinking as he was moving, but to my amazement, the day went off without a hitch. He is a phenomenal people-person, a cartoon, a stereotype, a gigantic heart in a regular man, and very very funny.

He spoke great truths in little bursts, and was in a perpetual state of catechesis, the kind my dear friend calls backdoor catechesis. We went there feeling magnanimous about our time and sacrifice to do something for the poor. He helped us understand that the poor were gracing us with the opportunity to serve them and learn something. That lesson was not lost on me at all.

He began by letting us know that we would see things that would surprise us, or confuse us...perhaps make us uncomfortable. He warned that there might be instances of rudeness and hostility. He told us to forgive and always be respectful--to address these folks as "Sir" and "Ma'am." In short, to give these people a meal, and more importantly, human dignity. I never saw so many kids smile and genuinely serve. It was beautiful.

After the set up period, we were dismissed to attend Mass in the beautiful historic church. Father Henry delivered a similar message to us, as my new friend Ted. He spoke at length about how the poor are harrassed, not in the ways that we are harrassed, but by things we don't experience. The cold. Hunger. Fear. They seemed to be preparing us for something that we couldn't yet comprehend.

They estimated that about 600 people were served today. The vast majority, and I do mean the vast majority, 99+% were happy to be served, happy to be there, and if not happy, certainly grateful for the warmth of the hall, and the warmth of the food. They had good table manners (why would one think that being poor equals being a rude pig? I've seen greater slobs at fine restaurants), and cordial behavior. They asked for what they needed without shame (and some--burning with shame), and we were happy to provide it. Truly, in over 200 people served in my section, we only had one person that seemed out of place with his behavior. I suspect that he was slick, not poor, yet we served him with the same respect.

A number of things stand out in my day, as snapshots, little mental polaroids because I can't yet process the whole experience.

* a man, dressed in his finest clothes, terribly outdated and in stark contrast to others, but he was clean and pressed and behaving as if he was attending the finest meal in the finest company. For him, it certainly was.

* a toothless, disheveled man in dirty clothes, shivering, shivering, and asking for anything hot. He drank his coffee and ate his soup, and stayed at his seat for a long time. No one asked him to move.

* a prostitute. She had to be a prostitute. And she sat with the group, and she was served with a smile.

* a mother and her two children, Anna and Daniel's ages. I wept at that one. Enough said there.

* a young couple with a lot of bags, clearly out of place, and yet, a part of the group.

* a woman wearing all kinds of mismatched clothes for warmth ate two bowls of soup and the sandwich that was also provided, and asked me, very humbly, if she might have another one to take with her. I came back with three, and she was so grateful that I had to excuse myself for the second time to compose myself. Later, as she was leaving, we sent over a another couple of handfuls. She was there with a man who was taking great pains to help her carry her possessions in a broken canvas bag.

Ninety minutes later, after everyone was fed and the hall was cleaned up, I walked out to the curb to wait for the parking lot to clear (we were blocked in). One of the other youth groups was gathering in the area where I stood, and so I started to make my way through them to get back to my group. One of the teens in the group came up to me and asked, "Are you in my group?"

I laughed and said no. And then he did something totally amazing. He said, "Well, I'll give you a hug anyway! It's a great day, isn't it?"

It certainly was.

What hyperbole, Laura?

I'm just sayin'.

Why I'm Fat (and don't really care)

I'm feeling a little bit under the weather, which of course is code for I feel really poopy and want to go home and crawl under the covers but I have a responsibility to my family to earn a paycheck so I'm going to be brave and cough and sneeze all over my co-workers and students.

Well, that was succinct. Anyway, my poopy state requires that I sniff and snort, too. It seems that the best thing for me to do is drink lots of hot tea, which has been helpful in soothing my sore throat and helping some with the congestion.

That was a very good plan until the afternoon, when I realized that I had no more tea bags. It's not like we live in some crazy communist state and I can't travel 1.3 miles to a grocery store to get more. It's just that I'm achey and uncomfortable, and it's 24 degrees outside, so I decided to make do with what was in the office.

What, indeed, was in the office? A little can of General Foods International Coffees Suisse Mocha low calorie coffee drink mix (sugar free-fat free-naturally decaffeinated). So I made a cup.
What in blue blazes was I thinking? It tasted like shit. Ow, sorry for the little bomb, but...YUCK!

That's why I'm fat. I would have much preferred Starbuck's Supergigantic REAL Mocha made with whole milk, real espresso, and real cream. Duh. I still have time to rectify that error--I just have to find my parka and gloves.

A little waste of time for you today

I ran into this quiz which amused me, because, well, friendship seems to have come in at the bottom. Man, I'm a lousy friend. Ha. I guess I'm not very peaceful, either. Whatever.

Which Positive Quality Are You? Your Result: Faith You are Faith. Faith is the belief in better things, in spite of the cynicism and doubt that swirls around us. Faith gives us strength; it inpsires us to move forward and follow our hearts. "Faith tells us what the senses do not."
Charity
Love
Courage
Friendship
Peace
Which Positive Quality Are You?

Karen Marie's blog had some other quizzes, too. You may want to try out the high school one, for you brainiacs. I scored a 91; that's cuz I went to Catholic school for 9 years, and finished in public school. I'm sure it was the darn area of a triangle question that nailed me. I teach English--I don't need too many triangles in my life.

Ok, now get back to work.

My Computer Blew Up!!!!

OK, it was more like a less dramatic implosion. I got home on Friday afternoon, and it was dead. Deader than dead. It had no juice. My knight in shining armor went and bought a new power supply on Saturday afternoon, but it didn't work. Dead. Where's the coroner to sign the death certificate?

My hero will attempt one last cannibalistic trick to rescue the harddrive, but I fear the worst. I've lost all the pictures since the last back up disk, but you know what? I'm not even upset about it. Whatever. I save and save and save, but never do anything with all those saved things.

I'm really working on the zen of reducing all my things to fit into my trunk. Of course, I count my trunk as everything behind the driver's seat in my van, but hey, it's a start, right?

Meanwhile, click on over to Rosary Army and read my rant of the day, precisely on materialism and the myth of the perfect Christmas decoration. And while you're there, why doncha make a donation. They're the only people who actually let me write for them regularly.