What's Been Working Around Here, re: Food

* Some recipes from Just Tell Me What to Cook, such as Orange Rosemary Chicken, which was a hit with the whole family. Ramona didn't even ask for a peanut butter sandwich.  I liked the Chicken with Lime-Ginger Sauce, but the kids found it a little heavy on the lime, so I'll cut back next time.

* Crock Pot Lasagna:  A friend mentioned this recently, so I Googled for a recipe. Yes, you really throw uncooked pasta in the crock pot. I didn't have lasagna noodles, so I used spiral pasta, and I left out the ricotta. The recipe says one hour on high, and five hours on low, but I think I could have cut that back to about three hours on low (however, we were out for the afternoon, so I wasn't home to check on it.)  It was overdone, but the kids still loved it.

* Melissa's Roasted Broccoli  with Parmesan:  so simple, so good

* Couscous:  everyone loves it. Except Ramona.

* Meal planning:  As much as I hate to admit it (and do it), life is immeasurably easier when I plan meals. My tortured relationship with meal planning has been chronicled:

Meal Planning, Schmeal Planning
An Update to Meal Planning, Schmeal Planning
Another Reason to Love My Husband

And I expect the tortured relationship to continue. And so goes life in the fallen nature and fallen kitchen of Karen.

Two things guaranteed to make my day better

1. Get myself ready for the day before the kids get up.

This makes a huge difference for me. Huge. If I'm behind on this, I feel behind on everything.  Atticus gets up first (which I admit makes it easier for me) but then I'm next ... I drag myself out of bed, head straight to the shower, and then have time to get a couple things done (and a cup or two of coffee) before I wake up the girls. Then, everything -- really, everything -- goes so much better for me. For us. 

St. Josemaria Escriva said:

The heroic minute. It is the time fixed for getting up. Without hesitation: a supernatural reflection and... up! The heroic minute: here you have a mortification that strengthens your will and does no harm to your body.

I'm no hero, but I know that, for me, it's a mortification I need. That may not be true for everyone, or for every schedule, or every homeschooling household. But it helps me. 

And, please, please, please remember, if you are tempted to compare anything with anything, I'm in this season of life: kids who are 15, 13 and 7.  No baby, no toddler, no pregnancy here ... you get me, don't you?  If you've been up all night with the baby, nothing about "getting up before the kids" applies to you.  Go catch a nap.

2. The Liturgy of the Hours

This is one of the things I get done before the kids are awake. 


From today's Morning Prayer:

When I found your words, I devoured them; they became my joy and the happiness of my heart, Because I bore your name, O LORD, God of hosts. ~~ Jeremiah 15:16


I started praying the Liturgy of the Hours a couple of years after becoming a Catholic. (I would have bet all three of my children that I've written extensively about the Liturgy of the Hours before on this blog. But, I just did a search and I cannot find a thing. How is that possible?)

It was the Office of Readings that really captured me -- both the Psalms and the second reading of the day (usually some treasure from one of the fathers of the Church.)

Back when my spiritual director was a priest here in our parish (he has since moved away) he mentioned the Liturgy of the Hours at an RCIA meeting (I was on the team at the time.)  I had never heard of it, but he talked about "praying in rhythm with the Church," and I thought, "Hmm ... that's intriguing." The next time I met with him, I asked about it and he showed me what it was, and how to use it.  I fell in love with it, and especially with the richness of the Office of Readings.  I didn't think the full set of books (rather pricey) was within grasp, so for awhile I used the free, online version at Universalis.com.  (Note that Universalis doesn't use the official Catholic translation, but it was still a nice way for me to break into using the prayers while I looked at other option.) Then, Atticus bought me set for my birthday/Mother's Day that year. Oh, I love that man.

It took a bit of time to learn how to navigate through the books, the ribbons, the feast days and Solemnities. I remember having Father over for dinner shortly after Atticus gave me the books and I said, "I am loving the Liturgy of the Hours!" and Father said, "So, you know that today is the feast of Charles Lwanga and Companions!" and I said, "Ummm ... no. Who?"

So, he gave me another navigation lesson and I finally caught on.

I don't pray all of the hours, and I don't do it every day, but I still love the Office and Atticus and I try to start every work day with Morning Prayer together.  It's amazing, fascinating and comforting to me to see how often something in the prayers applies to something that I'm praying, thinking or worrying about. 

I love Night Prayer, too. Every night there is the Nunc Dimittis:

Lord, now let your servant go in peace.
Your Word has been fulfilled:
my own eyes have seen the salvation
which you have prepared in the sight of every people:
a light to reveal You to the nations
and the glory of your people Israel.

And there are various other Scriptures -- this is from Tuesday night prayer:

Stay sober and alert. Your opponent the devil is prowling like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, solid in your faith. ~~  1 Peter 5:8-9

And Evening Prayer gives us the Magnificat:

My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
For He has regarded the low estate of His handmaiden,
For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name. 
And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm:
He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree.
He has filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich He has sent empty away.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy;
As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to His posterity forever.

Riches abound.


Awhile back, Melanie did some marvelous posts about the Liturgy of the Hours that I highly recommend. You can find them here and here (and the second one is full of links, details, recommendations, great stuff.) One other source (I can't remember if Melanie mentioned it)  is The Magnificat.  This little magazine/prayer book is an easy and beautiful way to start.

Like Melanie, I have fallen in and out of use of the Liturgy of the Hours, but I always come back to it. It's an anchor.

Great Story for History Buffs

Here, at National Geographic.

Poetry Friday: Taylor Mali's Undivided Attention

I first saw this poem quite awhile back at Andromeda's A Wrung Sponge.  I loved it then, and I love it now, so it's worth repeating on a Poetry Friday.

The poem begins with the arresting image of a piano dangling out an 8th floor window.  But it's really about what teaching is all about. What makes a good teacher? What makes a great one? What is it that allows someone to "teach like the first snow, falling"?  And if you love that line, be sure to go read the entire poem.


Undivided Attention
by Taylor Mali 

A grand piano wrapped in quilted pads by movers,
tied up with canvas straps - like classical music's
birthday gift to the insane -
is gently nudged without its legs
out an eighth-floor window on 62nd street.
It dangles in April air from the neck of the movers' crane,
Chopin-shiny black lacquer squares
and dirty white crisscross patterns hanging like the second-to-last
note of a concerto played on the edge of the seat,
the edge of tears, the edge of eight stories up going over, and
I'm trying to teach math in the building across the street.

(Read the rest of the poem here.)

Susan Taylor Brown has the roundup today. 

Maureen Wittmann reviews "The Rosary: Keeping Company with Jesus and Mary"

Maureen Wittmann has a review of my Rosary book up at her blog (a blog which, I might add, has the shockingly clever title, "Maureen Wittmann") and I love the way it begins:

When I received this little book in the mail I thought to myself, "Sigh. Yet another book on the rosary." I know that sounds terrible, but in my defense I do have a whole shelf full of rosary books.

I love that honesty!

I know that many people have the same thought: "Why another book on the Rosary?" I'll reveal a spoiler now ... Maureen answered the question by saying, "It was fresh and I loved it."

And I love the picture of Maureen reading the book to her daughter in the car .... 

Thank you, Maureen!

You can read the whole review here.

She's Just Here for the Cocoa ...

... and for every episode of Good Eats that she can cram in.

Ramona loves Alton Brown. (Okay, okay, we all love Alton Brown, as evidenced by the number of times I've mentioned him here.)

Yesterday really felt like autumn -- chilly and crisp -- so we had hot chocolate, made with Alton's cocoa mix.  And later Ramona drew this portrait.

I'm not sure if you can see it in this picture, but she got every detail  ... the apron in the picture sports the words "I'm Just Here for the Food."

Mommy Lee Jones

You know that scene in "The Fugitive" where Tommy Lee Jones follows Harrison Ford into that tunnel in that dam?  And Harrison Ford is trapped, and he yells out, "I didn't kill my wife!" and Tommy Lee Jones replies, "Ah don't care."

You know that scene?

Well, last night at bedtime when Ramona was trapped and told me for the umpteenth time that she wasn't tired ...

Yes.

I said it.

Because it was Tommy Lee Jones' job to track Harrison Ford down, regardless of his opinion on Richard Kimble's guilt or innocence, and regretfully it was my job to tell Ramona to be quiet and stop talking whether she was sleepy or not.

Yeah, Tommy Lee and mommies ... we always get the job done.

(Image from The Fugitive found at pbs.org, American Masters/Warner Brothers photo gallery) 

I'm glad it's only occasional

The other day we celebrated a saint day here for one of the girls.

We had picked up some mini-cupcakes for the occasion, and when Ramona found out that not only did she get to eat one now but could also have a couple later for dessert she said, "You mean I get more later?"

Her eyes were shining.

"Yes," I said.  "Life is good, no?"

"Yes!" she replied. "It is. Well," she added, "there is the occasional disappointment ...."

Interview on Catholic Spotlight

The other day I talked with Chris Cash from Catholic Spotlight and The Catholic Company, You can hear the podcast here. We talked about my Rosary book and the power of prayer. And, I promised Chris that I'd send an article over for the resource page of Rosary.com, so I'd better get to work!

Jack reviews "The Rosary: Keeping Company with Jesus and Mary"

Jack has been my best friend since high school.

He doesn't have a blog.  He didn't write any of this down.  He didn't know he was reviewing my book.  The following was uttered as I rode along with him in his van to pick his son up from a Boy Scout "let's clean-up-the-creek" project.

But I'm still calling it a review:


Jack: Karen, I'm reading your book, and it's good!

Me: Well, you don't have to sound so surprised, y'know.

(Brief exchange about how much was read by Jack in draft form vs. how much was new to him ....) 

Jack: No, I mean, I'm not surprised that it's well written [this accompanied by an expression that probably meant, "You are still the same ridiculous person I became friends with in high school, Karen,"] ... it's just that, y'know, I'd like to think that there isn't much that a "beginner's" book on the Rosary could teach me. But so far I have been surprised and delighted by something in every, single section of your book!

[I can't guarantee that I've properly transcribed the exclamation point at the end. But I like to think it was there.]

 *****

I'm guessing Jack gives the book six full stars out of five, with the extra star added because we do, after all, go all the way back to high school. And he still thinks I deserved much more recognition than I got for that "Star Spangled Girl" humorous interp that I did for speech class.

Poetry Friday: To the Light of September

This poem by W.S. Merwin is just about perfect in its description of September's feel.




To the Light of September

by W. S. Merwin

When you are already here
you appear to be only
a name that tells of you
whether you are present or not

(Read the rest of the poem here, at The Poetry Foundation.) 

The roundup this week is at Becky's Book Reviews.

Ramona Pictures Heaven

"Mommy, I always picture the main room of Heaven like a church -- you walk in, and all the saints are in the pews praying, and God is right up in front of everyone."

About Mary

"When we see her, we see our own human nature at its purest. She is not the sun, dazzling our weak sight by the brightness of its rays. Rather, she is fair and gentle as the moon, which receives its light from the sun and softens it and adapts it to our limited perception."

~~ St. Louis de Montfort

Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Charlotte's Web

I'm reading Charlotte's Web to Ramona, and every time I reread this gem, I'm struck by something deeply delightful.

"From eleven to twelve, (Wilbur) planned to stand still and watch flies on the boards, watch bees in the clover, and watch swallows in the air."

*****

More later, when I actually have time to blog.

So Smart and Yet So Seven

Yup, that's my Ramona.

Examples of things I was forced to say to my daughter yesterday:

"Don't glue your feet together!"

"No! Don't glue anything else!"

"I mean it." 

"Next time, don't blow into the flour canister and then you won't get flour in your eyes."

"I love you, y'know."

Two Thoughts on Our Lady of Sorrows

Follow the links from Fr. S. here ... sublimely beautiful music for our Lord and His mother on this day. 

Mary Ellen on living at the foot of the Cross.

In Which We Examine the Roles of Anne and Betsy (or, "What's a Blogging Mom to Do?")

Occasionally, people ask if I worry about having more Ramona posts than Anne-and- Betsy posts.

I tell those people, "What I really fear is how much the therapy will cost."

No, not really.

But, here's the thing. When I started this blog in late '05, Anne-with-an-e and Betsy were twelve and nine. Ramona was three. Three-year-olds say a lot of funny things. Bloggable things. Things I can repeat and get away with.  If I'd had a blog when my other girls were that young, their early childhoods would also be recorded in cyberspace, but I wouldn't have those great notebooks full of their sweet and funny sayings. So, there's a bit of a trade-off, eh?

But there's another more important thing at play here. Anne and Betsy are growing up. In the years since I started this blog, they have become young women. And, although we have endless and fascinating conversations about that, most of those conversations don't have a home on my blog. Sure, there's the occasional "I refuse to believe they are teenagers" moment, such as the other day when there were firemen outside the grocery store collecting money for Jerry's Kids. As we headed into the store, one or more of them did a double-take our direction and I realized that I couldn't tell you the last time a fireman looked twice at me.  Firemen look at my daughters (much to Atticus' chagrin, tensed fists and recollection of his Marine Corps days. Hear that, firemen and potential suitors? Their father was a Marine. And he remembers everything about it. But I digress.)

The point is that many conversations at this stage end up feeling more private than bloggable. Even stuff that isn't really, truly, intensely private or earth-shattering, or difficult, or any of that.  It's just ... theirs.  Their lives are theirs, and that's a tricky balance for  a writing mom.  It leaves me evaluating what I want to write about here, and what should remain untouched.  The girls and I talk about all of that. And then together, we move forward through the unknowns of blogging through the teens.

Anne and Betsy constantly amaze me with their brains and their wit and their creativity. And, I probably should write down (or Tweet, God help me) more of the things they say that leave me guffawing and snorting with laughter.  They are two of the most extraordinary people I know.  I love them so much that in certain unguarded, untested moments I think something in my chest is going to erupt or shatter, and then the world (or three or four blog readers) will know that I love Anne and Betsy with the most fierce, unbreakable love possible, a love that couldn't have been explained to me before I became a mother.

A love that knows no categories, labels or blog titles.

A love that doesn't keep track.

It just keeps moving forward.

The Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me ....

~~ Mark 8:34

That's my girl

Atticus made his famous homemade spaghetti sauce today. As we cleaned up after dinner, I mentioned that I still remembered the first time I tasted the Edmisten recipe at his parents' house. I thought, "Wow ... that woman makes a mean sauce."

Anne-with-an-e came in and asked what we were talking about. I explained that Dad had gotten his spaghetti sauce recipe from his mother.

Anne then said, "Dad, when I get married ... " and I thought she was going to ask if she could have his recipe, but she said:

"... will you give your recipe to my husband?"

Hopping Ramona

Ramona: Mommy, I love to hop!

Me: Well, of course you do! Who doesn't love hopping?

Ramona, authoritatively: Cows.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

Sometimes, like today, when we have no major plans and I know that I'm probably not going out (other than the driving lesson I gave Anne-with-an-e today), I deliberately put on a shirt that already has a stain on it. Because I just know that I'm going to spill something.  Yup. Just added a new tomato sauce stain to this pink shirt.  Atticus says he finds my klutziness endearing but I think he just says that because he's, you know, my spouse of twenty-five years.

*****

Yesterday at the park when I watched my 20-month old godson cry pitifully about a tumble he'd taken, and I thought back to how seven-year-old Ramona had earlier needed a kiss on a not-even-visible-scrape in order to wipe away a frown, I thought about how roughly 80% of growing up is just learning how to be quiet and stop whining.  Most of us are still working on that.

*****

Last week I had a minor psychotic episode during which I thought for certain that we had a bat living somewhere in our back patio.  We probably do, though I'm no longer psychotic about it.  Friends like Theresa assure me that bats are a blessing, and friends like Jennifer are jealous because surely our bat is keeping mosquitos at bay while friends like Lissa think it's cool, unschooly science. All I really cared about was making sure that we didn't have a bat colony living in our attic, a la Dave Barry (and thanks to Jenn again for that reference, which made me laugh in the midst of freaking out.) Atticus assuaged my fears with fearless attic investigation.

The joys of home ownership are without number.

*****

Poetry Friday: In which we try to picture tomorrow

"Mary Oliver's poetry is an excellent antidote for the excesses of civilization," wrote one reviewer for the Harvard Review, "for too much flurry and inattention, and the baroque conventions of our social and professional lives. She is a poet of wisdom and generosity whose vision allows us to look intimately at a world not of our making."  ~~ from Poets.org



Here's to antidotes to excesses of civilization, and here's a poem for Poetry Friday, by Mary Oliver:


Walking to Oak-Head Pond, and Thinking 
of the Ponds I Will Visit in the Next 
Days and Weeks

What is so utterly invisible
as tomorrow?
Not love,
not the wind,

not the inside of stone.
Not anything.
And yet, how often I'm fooled-
I'm wading along

in the sunlight-
and I'm sure I can see the fields and the ponds shining
days ahead-
I can see the light spilling

like a shower of meteors
into next week's trees,

(Read the rest of the poem here.)

The Poetry Friday round up is at Wild Rose Reader today.

Ramona Reacts to the First Day of School

Ramona: Mommy, I love homeschooling. I wish I could homeschool my kids.

Me: You can!

Ramona: No ... I don't have time.

First Day of School Recap

• Breakfast out
  

• Library stop

• Some math, some history

• Some science for Ramona, with Janice VanCleave

• Scattergories
  

• Lunch 

• Cupcakes with blue frosting for dessert, to celebrate the Blessed Mother's birthday
  

• Play "Gift Shop" with Ramona (wherein she offers to sell me various lotion concoctions and informs me that I have visited her shop on "Free Dvd Day!")

• Read The Magician's Nephew aloud to everyone -- take repeated delight in Lewis

• Plenty of other reading free reading for everyone

• Atticus working late + kids eating out for youth group = No cooking 

A stupendous day.

First Day of School

Some past firsts:

First day in 2006
First day in 2007
2008 got off to a funny start, due to grandparents visiting, but we soon got on track.

I'll be back later with a recap of Day One: The 2009 Version. 

Ramona the Optimist

"Mommy," she said, "there are two kinds of people -- the Uptimists and the Downimists."

One way to teach the faith ...

... is to talk about it.

I've said it before: "Talking is most of our curriculum here."

Yesterday, a couple of Jehovah's Witnesses stopped by. They are a married couple, really lovely people, and they've been stopping by regularly ever since I first answered the door and actually conversed with them. I respect the dedication and evangelism of Jehovah's Witnesses, although of course I disagree with their conclusions.

As we were wrapping up yesterday's conversation, I offered them, in exchange for the booklet they were leaving me, a booklet of my own. Well, not mine, actually, but one from Catholic Answers called Pillar of Fire, Pillar of Truth. The tone of the conversation changed dramatically. I didn't think they were going to even take the booklet, but after further conversation, the gentleman, a savvy evangelist and a kind man, did accept it.

Last night, as I recounted the conversation to Atticus, I noticed how intently the kids were listening. What did we talk about? Sacred Tradition vs. human tradition, the origins of Sacred Scripture and the Catholic Church as guardian of Scripture, the Holy Spirit guiding and guarding the Church in unchanging doctrine, and the dangers of quoting Scripture verses out of context.

Whew -- I guess I can check off three or four weeks worth of Religious Ed topics.

Conversion Diary reviews "The Rosary: Keeping Company with Jesus and Mary"

Jennifer at Conversion Diary posted a lovely review of my Rosary book. Thank you, Jennifer!

Jen also reviewed a few other books in that post thereby forcing me to add several new things to my mammoth To Be Read Wish List.

I don't know whether I should thank her for that or not, but I will, and I'm sure Amazon will thank her, too, when I place my next order.

Poetry Friday: Robert Cording and Mozart

Does it get more sublime than poetry and Mozart? Add a starling, and Robert Cording's keen observations.

I was introduced to Robert Cording by Janice Harayda of One Minute Book Reviews. Atticus and I found Janice's blog when we were on a hunt for more information about Anne Porter.  Happily for me, Janice asked if I was familiar with Robert Cording. Woefully, I was not.

Now I am asking you the same question -- are you familiar with Robert Cording?

If you're not, you're in for a treat (a faulty word choice which makes it sound as if I'm offering you a cupcake, when in reality I'm inviting you to a banquet.)

Here's a piece at The Cortland Review  to whet your appetite for Cording's work. And here's a link at One Minute Book Reviews for more on Cording and his work.

I recently bought Cording's collection Common Life and I assure you it will not disappoint. I wish that I could direct you online to any number of poems in this book. One, for example, entitled On a Line of Emily Dickinson's, which is prefaced with this quote from my much-loved Emily:

"Life's spell is so exquisite everything conspires to break it."

What follows that line is poetry that is rich and deep yet simple in the way it's anchored in our lives -- the lives we must live while we're anchored to this world.

I wish I could share so many of these poems in their entirety -- Hummingbird Annunciation, or Pentecost in Little Falls, New Jersey.  But those are not online, and so today, I'll share just the beginnings and the ending of one of Cording's poems. Consider it a first course --  you'll have to hunt down the rest of the banquet for yourself.

Mozart's Starling
by Robert Cording

None of his friends understood.
A poem for a bird?—
and a funeral, and the ridiculous
request that they dress in formal attire ...

... could hear the cockeyed,
nonstop music in the incidental
bits and pieces of the world going by,
the exuberant excess of it all.

(Read the entire poem here.)

The Poetry Friday round-up can be found this week at Kelly Herold's Crossover.

Ramona, Betsy, Anne (and Mac and me)

Ramona, post-bath, hair in a towel, playing on the machine I love to an embarrassing degree (and now you know the answer to the question, To PC or to Mac? We are living happily ever after.)

*****

Betsy (aka, Patience of a Saint)  after allowing Ramona to style her hair:

*****
Anne-with-an-e, yesterday morning, when prodded to move faster: "I'm moving as fast as my pre-10:00 haze will allow."

I'm afraid I don't have a picture of Anne in her haze, but since cats exist in a haze most of the time, I'll include Mr. Putter here, chin lazily perched on an aptly named coloring book:

Ramona Coins a New Word

Me:  Hey, Ramona -- you played a lot in your room earlier today.  Are we going to be able to find your bed when it's bedtime?

Ramona:  Ummmm ... maybe not. I can guarantee you my room is not in tip-top shape.

Me: Well, let's take a look.

After surveying the bountiful clothing coverage -- both dress-up and the real stuff -- in her room, Ramona observed:

Ramona:  All it really needs is some hamperage.

Discernment

I promised to be back today with a post about discernment.

Discerning God's will can be so hard, can't it?

In my atheist days I scoffed at those who thought they could figure out God's will for them. I considered "getting an answer to prayer" to be something akin to "I was beamed up to the mother ship for a quick medical exam before they returned me to the crop circle."
 
These days, I think of answers to prayer as, well,  answers to prayer. Answers aren't always definitive and clear.  They don't offer me a peek into a crystal ball, a guaranteed outcome or the thing I want, whatever that thing may be.

What they usually give me is a little nudge, a sense that I'm on the right track in a particular area, a little bit of peace where before there was confusion or anxiety.  They offer me one well-lighted step forward on a path that is otherwise still inky dark up ahead. 

I return often to some simple steps for discernment from a book by Fr. John Hardon, Retreat With the Lord: A Popular Guide to the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola.
(I first mentioned it here, and have since returned it to its rightful owner.)

If you want to know more about St. Ignatius, read the Catholic Encyclopedia here or go to CCEL here for his spiritual exercises, (or just get the Hardon book for an excellent distillation of his exercises and how to put them to use.)

Simply, St. Ignatius offers a concise guide to discernment on relationships, activities and situations. He urges us to ask for God's guidance concerning where various people and things fall -- they will all fall into one of these four categories:

• Things/people God wants us to enjoy

• Things/people God wants us to endure (or suffer)

• Things/people God wants us to remove (because they lead us to sin)

• Things/people God wants us to sacrifice (willingly giving up an objective good, even though this thing's presence doesn't lead us to sin)

I find this immensely helpful, which doesn't mean that when I pray for discernment God beams me up to the mother ship and gives me an immediate, clear-cut answer. Nope.

But it does mean that after a fair amount of prayer, reflection and surrender, I can sometimes see into which category a situation falls. Not always. But sometimes.

And certainly more often than would be the case if I weren't asking these questions.