Remember Seinfeld's Golden Boy t-shirt?
Yesterday, Atticus wore his Golden Boy sweatshirt to a potluck dinner at church. I frowned. It's seriously time to retire that Golden Boy. The grease stain on the sleeve might be an actual fire hazard. And the fraying collar could trigger a Consumer Product Safety Commission recall due to the threat of strangulation.
This morning I also had to wrestle a t-shirt from Anne. I told her that her Golden Boy was not merely dying ... Golden Boy was gross.
I'm no fashion plate, but I know when a garment has joined the choir invisible.
I held a newborn baby for awhile yesterday, at a reception after a baptism. His head smelled of chrism, and he nestled sweetly on my shoulder. And I was both extremely happy to hold him and happy to return him. Contentment with one's stage of life is highly underrated.
The other day I tweeted:
Off to library -- what to read? No. More like: "What to check out then return in 6 weeks after renewing twice because I had no time to read."
But, Reading Hope springs eternal. I ended up with Richard Wilbur's Things of This World, About Alice by Calvin Trillan, Nurture Shock: New Thinking About Children by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman (and here's Alicia Van Hecke's review), Ellen Sandbeck's Organic Housekeeping, The Bread Loaf Anthology of Contemporary American Essays, and Blank: The Power of Not Actually Thinking at All (which is just a very lightweight little parody of Malcolm Gladwell's Blink.)
My wandering time at the library was courtesy of my kiddoes' involvement with the young adult book club. They had a great time discussing all kinds of books, and came out of the meeting laughing.
"How geeky are we?" asked Anne. "We have inside jokes with our librarian."
Yesterday was Divine Mercy Sunday. I love the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy. Years ago, before I was a Catholic, I was struggling with an enormous problem. I'd stopped attending the Episcopal church and was completely adrift. My friend, Jack, gave me a copy of the chaplet and said, "Here. Pray this every day for the next month." I shrugged and thought, "It couldn't hurt." I prayed it daily and at the end of that month, something I had greatly feared had been resolved. Ummm ... okay. I knew the prayer wasn't a “Catholic magic charm" but it did seem to be a road sign. A big, neon one. I signed up for RCIA within a month.