Poetry Friday: On the Seventh Day of Christmas I Posted This Gorgeous Anne Porter Poem

Atticus found Anne Porter last year and she's an ongoing gift. Here's an excerpt from a Christmas poem:

Noel 
by Anne Porter

...The customary carols

They bring us ragged miracles
And hay and candles
And flowering weeds of poetry
That are loved all the more
Because they are so common

But there are carols
That carry phrases
Of the haunting music
Of the other world
A music wild and dangerous
As a prophet's message

Or the fresh truth of children
Who though they come to us
From our own bodies

Are altogether new
With their small limbs
And birdlike voices

(The whole poem is here at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

The Poetry Friday round up is at Carols' Corner today. 

Coffee Banner? Why?

Hey guys, Ramona here, guest posting.

You may wonder, “Why the coffee Banner?” and the answer is, she really likes coffee. You may also wonder, “Why does she like coffee?” Well, the answer is, I don’t know, nobody knows. Maybe you should comment and ask her why she likes coffee! I’m sure she would highly appreciate that!

Well, bye everybody!
+Ramona+

Bits and Pieces of Our (Twelve) Days (of Christmas)

Did I not learn my lesson last year when I got Gingerbread Back? Did I not see the store shelves overflowing with gingerbread kits this year? Did I not heed my "To Do" list (which, for most of December said, "Bake and freeze gingerbread!")?

No, I did not.

Today there was baking. Frosting was beaten. Houses were constructed. Soon we'll get together with friends for the final step, which includes ridiculous amounts of candy.

~~~~~

The girls have been watching some movies. After Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Anne-with-an-e and Betsy decided that both Richard Dreyfuss and the aliens were cute. As they watched The Sting, they discovered why Robert Redford and Paul Newman were the gold standard of "handsome" in the 70's. Ramona watched Ramona and Beezus, over protest from the rest of us. Bleh.

We all (minus Atticus) saw Voyage of the Dawn Treader at the theater.  Do I attempt a review here? I have so much to say about the Narnia movies and so little to say about them. I love the books dearly. The movies are not the books. Dawn Treader is not as horrible an adaptation as Prince Caspian was, but that isn't much of a recommendation, is it? For what it is, for what it attempted ... I enjoyed the movie. The special effects were fun and magical. I liked sharing the film with my daughters, whispering about what was and wasn't in the book, seeing Eustace's transformation. The general spirit of the book was intact, I think, but it's never quite enough, you know? There was so much more I wanted to see done well and right. Aslan should have scraped and clawed at those scales. The Dufflepuds should not have had bare feet. Those two things are not on a par with one another. But they both bugged me. And so on.

I'm picky. What can I say?

~~~~~~

Among my gifts were some great new books and I hope to nab some serious reading time over these next few days of Christmas. I haven't had time to ignore my children yet, but it's on my to-do list, a la this old post called Blogging, Breaks and Mother Guilt.

A Happy, Holy, and Blessed Christmas

In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came to be through him,
and without him nothing came to be.
What came to be through him was life,
and this life was the light of the human race;
the light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it.

~~ John 1:1-5

(Painting: Caravaggio's Nativity)

I'm So Predictable

I originally ran this post in 2005, my first year of blogging. Predictably, I rerun it each year at this time.

We no longer have to hire a sitter and we no longer have to worry about keeping Ramona happy and quiet during Mass, as she manages that herself.  But the rest of it holds true.

Have a happy, holy, and blessed Christmas!

~~~~~~~~~~

My husband and I have a holiday tradition. Every year, close to Christmas, we get a babysitter, go out for Chinese food and buy all the last-minute

(WARNING: SANTA SPOILER AHEAD)

stocking stuffers and generally fall in love all over again -- with each other, with our children, and with the magic of Christmas. We talk about how our day went, about my parents, and his, and holiday travel plans, about how we'll keep the youngest child happy and calm during the long Christmas Eve Mass, and about how we can't believe how drastically our Christmases have changed over the years.

You see, when we married, we didn't want children. Children were nice enough for other people, but not for us. We didn't want the mess, the commitment, the responsibility. We were happy to be "child free" as opposed to "childless."

Then something happened. I became a Christian. Oops. Short-circuit in the selfishness department. I began to long for a child. Soon, Atticus's heart caught up with mine in the procreation department, and we set forth to create a family. After some heartbreaking miscarriages, we had Anne. But only one, Atticus said. One child is enough.

Then I became a Catholic. Oops. Short-circuit in the openness to life department. We had Betsy. Several more heartbreaking miscarriages later, God awarded us with Ramona, and here we are. Falling in love again at Christmas time, and crazy, head-over-heels in love with our children.

And all because of of a child born in Bethlehem two thousand years ago. Had Mary said, "No, thank you, I'd like to remain child-free," I would be childless. There would have been no conversion, no short-circuit, and most certainly, no joy. How does one thank God for that? I always seem to do it in the same old tired way.

I cry.

May you, too, shed some tears of ineffable gratitude this Christmas.

A Confession About Confession and Notes On a Beautiful Homily

I've confessed before that I'm a Dorothy Parker sort of confessee: "Hate to go. Love having gone."  As I noted in this post, she wrote of her profession, "Hate to write. Love having written," and I think it applies perfectly and precisely to the sacrament of confession.

Who looks forward to going? Really? I "look forward" to it only in the same way that I look forward to going to the dentist, which is to say that I look forward to the day after having a cavity filled. But I don't relish the idea of actually parking myself in the dentist's chair, getting long needles stuck in my mouth, tasting nasty rinses, and hearing small, electrical things at work in places that were never meant to come into contact with electricity.

But I do relish pain relief.
Healing.
The fresh start.
A voice in my head that says, "You messed up, but you took care of it. Now, quit sinning. And eat less sugar."

I relish the way in which, just as the priest is speaking the words of Absolution, I feel -- palpably, have you felt it? -- the release of weight. When I exhale, it's as if I've been loosed from an unwelcome anchor; I can float again.

And here ends the dental analogy. I like my dentist very much, but he can't do that for me.

So. I make myself go to confession regularly. Atticus does too, and we get the kids there regularly. And this weekend we hated to go, but we love having gone.

Now we're ready for Christmas.

~~~~~

And on the subject of being ready for Christmas, our pastor's perfectly lovely homily yesterday nudged us further along the road to readiness. Lean in to Grace, he urged us. Lean in to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Accept His challenges. Be conscious of our Lord's Transcendence and Immanence.  Which reminded me of this post of mine, from awhile back, which was also prompted by a great homily. (Isn't God good? I love the way He speaks through these men. When they cooperate with Him, it's like watching a flawlessly choreographed and executed dance, like immersion in the waves of a symphony. It's like -- no, it is -- a drenching in Grace.)

I won't make you click through -- I'll paste the old "Transcendence and Immanence" post below. And may you have a Grace-drenched, Confession-going, pain-relieving final week of Advent. "Lean in," as our pastor so rightly encouraged. Lean in. He's on His way.

He Is Transcendent and Immanent
(first posted in August, 2009)

I remember when I first learned about this idea -- that God is both transcendent (or above and beyond us, far beyond our grasp) and immanent (right here with us, next to us, running in and through us.)

As an atheist, I used to examine the concept of God and think that if God is so far beyond us that we can't even grasp what He's all about, what is the point of a "relationship" with Him? Relationships are supposed to be two-way streets, right?

Conversely, if all God amounted to was a spiritually squishy "He's in my heart" kind of feeling, then what sort of objective Supreme Being could He be? Not enough of one for my skeptical soul. If I were going to follow someone for the rest of my life, He had better be worth following. I've got some pretty great friends, but I wouldn't change my entire way of being for them.

The idea that God is fully and completely both transcendent and immanent finally brought it into focus for me. Grasping His simultaneous Transcendence and Immanence explained more not only about who God is, but about how He works. It explains the sacraments brilliantly ... through material things, God's Transcendence is brought into our world, used for our good and our salvation. His presence is immanent in water and oil, through vows and words and in what used to be bread and wine. He is both with us and beyond us.

And, it answers questions about prayer, too -- for me, it explains the strange way in which we can talk to a Being who is so far beyond our grasp that we can't fully conceive of who or what He is, but at the same time, feel Him right next to us and even within us.

But it also explains another thing about prayer, and that is how we can swing back and forth between those two extremes. The ideal is to have them both come together all the time in contemplative prayer, but most of us don't live with an ideal prayer life every day. Personally, I'm grateful for the times when it all comes together, and I hang on to them for dear life, because much of the time those consolations are all we've got.

But, I'm digressing, as usual. I wanted to mention a homily that a wonderful priest delivered yesterday. He talked about how familiar we can become with God -- we get into habits, we go to daily Mass, we go about our religious business, but soon we realize that we've been forgetting about God's glory and His majesty. We've been so focused on the immanence, the relationship, that we take His transcendence for granted, or we ignore it completely. Father exhorted us, in those times, to remember His glory -- to call on it ... remember Who He is.

This was such a beautiful and timely reminder, because I think anyone who's honest about her prayer life will admit that the pendulum swings. Sometimes I am fully focused on God's majesty and power -- I am overcome with awe and with gratitude (and, sometimes, tears). Other times, I am chatty and chummy with God -- and there's nothing wrong with that, in its way. If we don't embrace an intimate relationship with God, something may be lacking. I think it all comes together when we're fully focused on both sides of the coin -- basking in the bliss of God's immanence (though the analogy of lover/beloved is much more accurate than any sort of friendship analogy) while simultaneously grasping His Transcendent Glory is, I think, a little foretaste of heaven.

The problem comes when my familiar chattiness begins to take center stage, when I start thinking that I can call all the shots in this relationship.

It gets sticky and it's time for re-examination when I begin to take this stupendously, generously immanent God for granted, or take Him to task for the things I think He's not doing well enough in my life. Then it's time to step back and think about Who He really is. He's God, remember, Karen? His transcendent, inexplicable, powerful, stunning grandeur is capable of calling all the shots in the end, and He knows far better than I what I need.

Think about Who He really is.

When I remember and cling to His Transcendence, and simultaneously ask for and cling to His Immanence, He'll be faithful. He always is.

I'm the one I have to watch out for.

A Quote For the Fourth Sunday of Advent

"If the world wanted what is called a non-controversial aspect of Christianity, it would probably select Christmas. Yet it is obviously bound up with what is supposed to be a controversial aspect (I could never at any stage of my opinions imagine why); the respect paid to the Blessed Virgin ...You cannot visit the child without visiting the mother, you cannot in common human life approach the child except through the mother. If we are to think of Christ in this aspect at all, the other idea follows as it is followed in history ... those holy heads are too near together for the haloes not to mingle and cross."

 
~~ G.K. Chesterton

(from a December entry in Through the Year With Mary: 365 Reflections) 

(Painting: detail of Madonna and Child with St John the Baptist, Bouguereau, 1882)

Why I Don't Worry About the Ways in Which We "Do Santa" Around Here

This is actually from two years ago -- I called the post, "Secular, Meet Sacred" -- but it still holds true:

Poetry Friday: Thomas Merton

This is not an Advent but a Christmas poem, but it's too beautiful not to share and I shall probably be too busy to pop in next week, on Christmas Eve day, for Poetry Friday.  So today I offer you A Christmas Card from Thomas Merton. I especially love the lines I included below, but the whole poem is at The Mary Page (see the link to the poem below.)


from A Christmas Card
by Thomas Merton

...
Shall not this Child
(When we shall hear the bells of His amazing voice)
Conquer the winter of our hateful century?

And when His Lady Mother leans upon the crib,
Lo, with what rapiers
Those two loves fence and flame their brillancy!

Here in this straw lie planned the fires
That will melt all our sufferings:


....

(Read the whole poem here.)

The Poetry Friday round up is at The Poem Farm.

With Pat Gohn, Among Women

I chatted with the delightful and erudite Pat Gohn last week. The podcast of our interview is now available here, at Among Women, and is the third feature of  the "Joining With Mary in Advent" episode.

It's Not a Panic Thing, But ...

... we may need to tweak our Jesse Tree ornaments ... just a wee bit.

It turns out that the dog loves salt dough.

Who knew?

And the Winner Is ...

... RosaMaria!

This morning, we put all the names in a coffee cup, and Ramona did the honors:

RosaMaria, I'll be emailing you for mailing address details.

Thanks to everyone who participated!

Last Chance to Leave a Comment and Win a Book

I was going to end the contest at midnight tonight (Tuesday, December 14), but I'll also include in the drawing any comments I receive overnight. The final cut off will be when I drag myself out of bed tomorrow (which is usually about 5:45 a.m., so let's just round it up to 6:00 ....)


Just leave a comment either on this post, or on the original post, which is found at this link.

I'll announce the winner by noon central time on the 15th.

Thanks to you all for your interest!

"As Long As the Candles Are in the Window, I'll Be Here"

Mrs. Patterson.

She was our speech coach when I was in high school. A sweet, grandmotherly sort, who hovered and cooed and generally let us know we were loved. We were talented. We were terrific. We deserved a Christmas party, and she threw one at her house over Christmas break every year.

She had a lovely, grandmotherly house, too. Her Christmas lighting was simple: candles in the windows. Electric candles, yes, but the effect on on me was magic. Subtle and cozy and lovely ... they beckoned. And, once inside, in the Patterson fold, she confirmed that beckoning: "When you have all graduated, and gone off to college, you can always come back to visit me. If you drive by my house when you're home for Christmas, I hope you'll stop and see me. As long as the candles are in the window, I'll be here."

I never did go back after I graduated. I remember driving by her house once or twice, to see if the candles were still in the windows. They were, but even then I wasn't one to drop in unannounced. Oh, I believed her when she said we could. But somehow I didn't think I could.  My day had passed.  The candles still whispered magic to me, but the magic of her home already seemed a lifetime ago, and I knew I couldn't recapture it. I was already, I thought, a different person.

Sometime later, I heard that Mrs. Patterson had died. Cancer, I think. I cried a little, thinking of her sweetness. Her light. Her gift of hospitality. Her sincerity.  I never drove past her house again because although I hadn't taken her up on her invitation, I couldn't stand the thought of those bare, dark windows.

And now, in these days of Advent, as we are waiting for His coming -- waiting to celebrate His birth, and as we contemplate His final Coming -- I think of the candles that still call to me. The flames I really do return to, again and again.

In the confessional.
In Holy Mass.
Flickering next to the tabernacle.

As long as the candles are lit, He will be there. Waiting.

For Mrs. Patterson. For you. For me. And this time around, when I feel like a different person, I know that it's true

The magic of Jesus beckons, and I will never be the same.

Tsk, Tsk: The Things That Get Overlooked

Ramona recently let me know that she has never seen The Wizard of Oz.

What? And I call myself a good mother?

So, today while the older girls were out seeing a movie with friends, Ramona and I settled in for a home viewing of an old classic.

Before we got started, Ramona showed me her checklist of necessities: 

All were present and accounted for. We had a marvelous afternoon. And when I was Ramona's age, I would have killed for her red glitter shoes.

An Advent Giveaway: Leave a Comment, Win a Book

I have a copy of Through the Year With Mary here, and I want one of you to have it.

Just leave a comment on this post and one of the girls will pick a name at random next Tuesday, December 15th. (Please include an email address in your comment if you don't have a blog or other easy-to-reach link. Thank you!)

~~~~~

I also have a handful of copies of The Rosary: Keeping Company With Jesus and Mary for sale here. They are $8.99 with free media mail shipping (faster shipping if you're interested in paying a little more for that.) Send an email to  karen (dot) edmisten (at) gmail (dot) com if you want to order one or have any questions.

If That Had Been Me, We'd Be Without That Toilet Paper

Preparations

Our Advent has been plodding along at a pleasant pace. Yes, we're busy with all kinds of life-things and school-things, but we're also preparing for the coming of the Christ Child, one lovely step at a time.

The first Sunday of Advent I realized I did not have Advent candles in the house. I usually try to buy an extra set of candles and pack them away with the Advent wreath, but apparently I didn't do that last year. No reason to panic.  (Yes, I try to live up to my blogging.) I dug some old purple and pink candles out from a stash kept under the kitchen sink and we lived with substitutes until I got out that week to buy some new ones.

On Friday, we set up our tree and discovered which light strings work and which don't. I'm down to two working strings of bubble lights.

(Photo courtesy of Corey Ann)

After stringing the lights and red beads, we knocked off. We'll finish decorating the tree tonight after dinner. I used to stress out about when to put the tree up, as if there were a definitive Catholic doctrine regarding the timing of twinkle lights, homemade sequin-and-styrofoam ornaments, and family tradition. Scrupulosity is no fun. There are so many other things one can stress about without fighting with one's self or others over December 1st versus 24th for a tree. Now, we put the tree up at whatever time works for us in any given December. 

Why Atticus Is My Hero 

Yesterday, Atticus braved the blizzard to make a badly needed run to the grocery store. As he pushed the cart out of the store, a 50 mph gust of wind caught a 12-pack of toilet paper and spirited it away. He left the cart and at superhuman speed (or so I imagine) chased down the toilet paper, which had zoomed all the way to the other end of the very long, large store. As he headed back to the cart, he couldn't even see the cart -- it was hidden by blowing snow.  He plowed on, praying that the cart hadn't been sent into the parking lot, to either cause an accident for someone, or cause us to lose about $100 worth of groceries. He found it, thanked Jesus and guardian angels, and made it safely home.

Next time, I'll stock up on everything. It was, after all, 50 degrees the day before this snowstorm hit. I should have known.

Gaudete Sunday, Our Lady of Guadalupe and St. Lucia Bread

Gaudete Sunday! 

Rejoice! 

We're more than halfway through Advent. We are not in a panic. We are savoring a well-paced preparation for the real beginning of the Christmas season.  And today at Mass, I'll receive this valuable reminder:



Be patient, brothers and sisters,
until the coming of the Lord.
See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth,
being patient with it
until it receives the early and the late rains.
You too must be patient.
Make your hearts firm,
because the coming of the Lord is at hand.
Do not complain, brothers and sisters, about one another,
that you may not be judged.
Behold, the Judge is standing before the gates.
Take as an example of hardship and patience, brothers and sisters,
the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.  

 ~~ James 5:7-10

Today is also the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

My personal devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe began about ten years ago, and is chronicled here.

Tomorrow is the feast of St. Lucia. My daughters' godmother, Holly, originally led me to the St. Lucia braided bread recipe that we always look forward to (you may translate "look forward to" as "my children would have my head if we didn't include this bread in the Advent season.")  You can visit this post for more details and links on our St. Lucia celebrations, and this one for the recipe for the bread.

And believe me, you do not need to be afraid of this bread recipe! You can't ruin this bread! If I can do it, you can, too. It's an incredibly forgiving recipe, so step away from the yeast fear. You'll be so happy you did. This bread ring is beautiful and delicious. If you've never tried it, I hope you will this year. And, if you don't have time this week, just file the recipe away and make it as a treat during the Twelve Days of Christmas.

Rejoice! Happy Gaudete Sunday!

Poetry Friday: An Atticus Pick

Another by Robert Frost this week.  Thanks, Atticus.


The Sound of Trees 
by Robert Frost 

I wonder about the trees.
Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.

~~~~~
The Poetry Friday round up is at Jama Rattigan's Alphabet Soup today.

Advent with Relevant Radio

I'll be on the radio tomorrow morning (Thursday, December 9) at 7 a.m. central time, chatting about Advent.


You can join us online via the link on this page.

Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of Mary

"When one seeks out the place of the Virgin Mary in history as it is conceived by humans, her role seems paltry indeed ... But if history finds its final meaning in the saga of sanctity, if the value of human beings can be measured by their closeness to Christ, the Holy One of God, the source of all supernatural life, then suddenly Mary is at the summit ... She is the masterpiece of God, the one who after Christ has been the object of his thought for all eternity."

~~ Fr. Henri Rondet S.J.

Mary, how could I ever think of you as “just” the mother of Jesus? You are the result of God’s artistry -- perfectly, immaculately conceived in the mind of God.


(Painting: detail of Madonna and Child with St John the Baptist, Bouguereau, 1882)

St. Nicholas! And a New Advent Resource

We had such a busy day that I didn't get a post up about St. Nicholas. He did, however, drop by for a visit sometime in the wee hours. For each of the girls he left the usual cute socks, delicate ornaments and delicious chocolates.

And I still rely on this wonderful site, the St. Nicholas Center, for fun history, activities and pictures for Ramona. If you haven't visited it, be prepared to stay too long. And just because St. Nicholas' feast day is drawing to a close doesn't mean you've missed your chance. It's never too late to learn more about a saint.

~~~~~

The older girls spent the morning at the food pantry, helping unload food and stock shelves. My friend gave them a ride over while I babysat her three-year-old and reminisced about what it was like to have a preschooler in the house. (They're so short. And incredibly cute. Particularly cute when they happen to be boys and want to play "Pretty, Pretty Princess." Yes, he has plenty of sisters.)

I spent a delightful bit of time chatting with Pat Gohn from Among Women (more info coming soon on the interview she and I recorded today) and later I even managed to get homemade bread on the table with dinner, thanks to the Artisan Bread in Five folks.

~~~~~

In addition to our usual Advent prayers, we've added a new (to us) resource at dinner time as we light the candles on the Advent wreath. The girls are taking turns reading prayers and thoughts from Advent Reflections: Come, Lord Jesus by Archbishop Timothy Dolan. Lovely and lively and relevant. It hasn't happened every night, and I'm sure we'll be somewhat hit-and-miss with it, but it's a welcome addition, especially for my older girls.

Happy feast of St. Nicholas!

Looking forward to the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception ....

(St. Nicholas clipart courtesy of Two Hearts Design.)

Quote for a Monday

from Through the Year With Mary: 365 Reflections


"There is little doubt that we are passing through a period marked by a lack of interest in the saints. Much more is involved here than devotion to the saints, even St. Mary. What is at stake is the reality of the humanity of the risen Jesus. There is danger of so spiritualizing the risen Christ that we diminish awareness of His humanity ... Fr. Karl Rahner declared that the special temptation that affects Christians today, Catholics and Protestants alike, is the temptation to turn the central truths into abstractions, and abstractions have no need of mothers." 

-- National Conference of Catholic Bishops (Mary in the Church: A Selection of Teaching Documents)

Second Sunday of Advent

John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea
and saying, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”
It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said:
A voice of one crying out in the desert,
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.

~~ Matthew 3:1-3

Ramona's Latest Story For Her Writers' Group

I host a weekly writing group with my older girls and their friends. Ramona and her friends decided they wanted to have a writing group, too. 

Two eight-year-olds and a six-year-old sit around once a week and read their stories to one another. How incredibly cute is that, if I do say so myself?

Here's Ramona's latest. I haven't corrected it at all -- she's currently skipping capitalization as she feverishly creates, and I'm letting it go. She likes workbooks, so when we do a workbook page, I show her correct capitalization, but when she's writing for fun, I just want her to keep the creative juices flowing. (And I'm lucky that she's a natural speller -- she usually just needs to see a word once or twice to remember it.)

The Big Bad Bear

it was a usual morning. i got up, got dressed, ate breakfast, washed my face and headed off to school. but, when i opened the door to go to school, something shocking happened. there i stood. face-to-face with a big, fat mama grizzly bear. i screamed and slammed the door.

i ran to my mama and told her what happened. she said not to scream, and she knows what to do. i said i wouldn’t scream if she told me what to do. and she told me to grab the jar of honey. bears love honey. everybody knows that. and so, i opened the jar of honey, poured it out into a bowl and threw it for the bear. once i had thrown it, the bear whipped her thick head to the direction i threw it. she walked over to it and then back into the woods. i asked mama how she knew what to do, and she told me the same thing happened to her when she was a little girl. and she asked her mama how she knew what to do. and said it happened to her when she was little. and all of my grandmas.

The End

An Angsty Homeschooling Day

Yesterday was one of those days in which I felt pulled in seventeen directions even though I have only three children and the same number of students.

Maybe it was the fact that they are my children and my students.

Maybe it was the glitter pinecone project unfolding with Ramona while Anne-with-an-e was working on ACT prep math problems, while Betsy Ray was revising a paragraph in an essay about education. Maybe it was my writing projects in progress, or my unfinished Christmas shopping. Maybe it was the pressure to remain the "No Panic Lady."

Could it have been the fact that I've never made glazed carrots (I know, I know, I'm hopeless but no one around here has ever liked cooked carrots) and they were on the menu for last night?

Perhaps it was that I hated Math when I was in high school and I was having flashbacks.

Or it could have been Craft Anxiety.

Or maybe it was the fact that the washing machine leaked again and I had the image in my mind of the grumpy repairman giving me that look that he always gives me. It's the look that says, "How could you treat an appliance this way? If you were a better owner, this would never have happened. Some people just can't be trusted to operate precious machinery."

Whatever it was, I remember having the thought, "Should I really be homeschooling? Can I really give these amazing, talented, fabulous children all that they need? Should I send them all off to school? Would school serve them better? And I could just drink endless coffee and write all day?"

(Okay, so the endless coffee wouldn't be anything new .... )

But here's the thing. I would never make a decision about homeschooling when I'm having an angsty day. I usually don't even post about it, not when I'm in the moment, because I know it will pass.

And yesterday, it occurred to me that considering giving up homeschooling when I'm having a bad day is sort of like planning my funeral as I'm wretching over the toilet. It's true that I'm always convinced I'm actually going to die of stomach flu. But I never do. I always return to health.

Today is so much better. Today I'm in the mental equivalent of nibbling Saltines and sipping 7-up, and offering you a wan smile that says, "I'm fine, really. It was just the flu."

Today will offer its own challenges, but we'll face them. Vitamins, echinacea, Germ-X, prayer, confession ... You do what you have to do to bounce back and stay healthy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Updated to note:

The math was slogged through and then she got an A+ on her Spanish assignment, so huzzah. The education essay is coming along well and -- glitter? Well, when all's said and done, I actually like glitter projects. Who doesn't need more sparkle in her day?  Glitter is usually just the thing to remind me of what's really important.

Two Fun New Advent Ideas, Neither of Them Mine

My friend, Johnna, is a Craft Queen.

Nay, not merely a queen, but the Queen of the Craft Universe. A crafty artist, an artistic craftswoman. A Seamstress. A Cake Decorator. A Gluer Extraordinaire. (Johnna was hot-gluing things together long before I even dreamed that glue could be heated.) She has the ability to inspire awe in my children. (This reminds me of the time when Ramona was about four years old and was admiring my sister's interior decorating skills. "Mommy!" she said breathlessly, "Aunt Kathy made this clock out of air!" My children have never thought me capable of conjuring something from air. But I digress.)

Johnna's latest creation is a beautiful fabric Advent calendar which serves as a home for her Jesse Tree ornaments: 

Each green pocket holds an index card with a note for a daily activity as well as one of these:

She made and painted the salt dough Jesse Tree ornaments, adapting ideas found in Celebrating the Faith in the Home: Advent and Christmas for the Christian Family by Teresa Zepeda and Laurie Navar Gill.

The red pockets at the bottom of the calendar will also hold an ornament and activity card for each of the Twelve Days of Christmas.

Didn't she do a beautiful job?  She's so talented and yet so humble. (And organized! You should see her meal planning system ... but that's another post.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Johnna's other recent idea was an Advent-Saver for me this year. I searched all over town and couldn't find our usual "chocolate-a-day" calendars anywhere. Granted, we have plenty of other Advent activities and calendars, but the daily chocolate is a must. In true Karen-Shortcut style, I thought I'd just throw a bowl of chocolates on the dining room table and invite the kids to have one every day. (My other thought was to make a calendar on poster board using old Christmas cards as the pockets, but we all know I probably wouldn't have gotten it done in time for this Advent ....)

What I would have considered a major project (because it involved plugging in the glue gun), Johnna saw as a blip in her day. My kids were hanging out at her house anyway so she decided, "Why not take care of this little problem?" They made these:

A Hershey kiss for every day of Advent, glued to ribbons. Primo candy at the top, for the Twelve Days of Christmas and Epiphany:

The girls just pop one off each day, all the while thanking their lucky stars for Magical Mrs. M.

I'm pretty thankful for her, too.

(Cross-posted at O Night Divine.)

Recently I had a great interview with Judy Zarick, producer of "Living Faith" on American Catholic Radio. The interview can be found here, at their website, and is the first feature on the current program

The First Sunday of Advent

"Stay awake!"

Poetry Friday: Thankful Anyway

Ramona and I were sick yesterday and thus didn't make it to the family gathering for Thanksgiving. Atticus ran to the store before he, Anne and Betsy took off for the day. He wanted to be sure we had something in the house that resembled feasting, and he came home with a rotisserie chicken, dressing, pumpkin pie, whipped cream, cheese and crackers, tea, and Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk.  Anne-with-an-e said, "I hope someday I find a husband like Dad!"

I found myself feeling both miserably bluzzy and deeply happy at the same time. 


Coughing Our Thanks

No turkey for me.
I was sick yesterday.
So was Ramona.
Life's funny that way.

We'd looked forward to aunts
and a few cousins, too,
the turkey, of course,
And the post-dinner glue

Of family chatting
and napping and plotting
for Black Friday shopping
with lists we'd be jotting.

But we missed it all
thanks to some nasty old
virus that hit us but
truth to be told?

Still I was thankful
for blankets and tea,
my little girl's presence,
my husband, since he

Made sure we were cared for
before he departed
Rotisserie chicken
and chocolate. He carted

Stuff home for the sick girls,
made sure we'd be fed
Since I sure wouldn't cook
("Head's exploding," I'd said.)

Then off went my husband,
my Betsy, my Anne,
leaving me with the youngest,
thankful I can

Say that I am well loved
though I don't deserve any
of the gifts that are mine
the blessings so many.

On the couch then we snuggled,
Ramona and I,
feeling thankful for pillows,
store-bought pumpkin pie,

each other, our family,
the God we can praise
through the coughing and headaches
on Thanksgiving days.

~~~~~~~~~~

Check out the Poetry Friday round up at Check It Out.

Why I'm Never In Charge of the Turkey

Happy Thanksgiving! 

I'll be back tomorrow ....

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

Where did Saturday, Sunday, Monday and this morning go?

Hmmm. Over the weekend, we had an out-of-town guest (Hi, Anna!), saw the new Harry Potter movie (for fans of the books: we thought it was quite good, not perfect, but mostly true to the source),  Atticus and the kids helped with Mercy Meals (packaging food for the hungry), two of the girls sang with the choir at Holy Mass, we drove the out-of-town guest halfway home (Runza onion rings, yum), and yesterday I had the dog groomed (I dare not clip those nails myself. I'm still not entirely used to being a dog owner. One perfectly delightful thing about cats is their self-grooming. Now if I could just get Mr. Putter to be self-litterbox cleaning ....)

~~~~~

Today, my older girls are gone and Ramona still has friends here from a sleepover.  And, oh, yeah, I think Thanksgiving is on the way.

~~~~~

I was remiss in posting about our Thanksgiving Tree this year, but, it's not too late. There's still a week of November left and plenty to be thankful for.  More information is here.

No time for a tree? Try a simpler version, like a Thanksgiving Pumpkin Turkey -- just write your thanks and blessings on his feathers:

Or, maybe just a centerpiece of gratitude (click on the link for an explanation):

~~~~~

Speaking of things for which to be thankful, friend Beth, a teacher, sent me a fun link to Blogging to Learn. "Blogging Lessons" are here. They include lots of great ideas for kids and their blogs (including internet safety ideas, etc.)

~~~~~

It's a post-full-o-Beths: Beth at Endless Books is running a series of posts on Little Women. Check it out under her labels for Little Women and Alcott.

~~~~~

And now I'd better go check on Sydney. The little girls are playing Veterinarian, and I never know which part of the dog might end up wrapped in an Ace bandage.

More from Wendell Berry ...

... and this one is perfectly lovely.


To My Mother

by Wendell Berry

I was your rebellious son,
do you remember? Sometimes
I wonder if you do remember,
so complete has your forgiveness been.

So complete has your forgiveness been
I wonder sometimes if it did not
precede my wrong, and I erred,
safe found, within your love,

prepared ahead of me, the way home,
or my bed at night, so that almost

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

~~~~~~~~~~

The Poetry Friday roundup is at Random Noodling today.

I Was Going to Post About This Sooner, But ...

... well, I've been putting it off.

Later   

by James Surowiecki
What does procrastination tell us about ourselves?

October 11, 2010

Some years ago, the economist George Akerlof found himself faced with a simple task: mailing a box of clothes from India, where he was living, to the United States ....

Read the article here, at The New Yorker.

Why I Love My Kids: Reason # Harry Potter

Recently, when we were making plans regarding the movie, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, I asked the girls if they even wanted me to go with them to the movie at all.

I said, "Do you even want me there? Don't you just want to go with your friends?"

Anne-with-an-e replied, "Mom, we started this thing together and we're gonna finish it together."

(The final plan includes both me and one of their oldest and dearest friends. So. Fun.)

Advent is Less Than Two Weeks Away -- Plenty of Time to Not Panic

Advent is coming.

It should be a time we look forward to, not a time that reminds us of the theme from Jaws.

Do not panic.

Do not try to do everything. (Also known as, "Do not attempt to stalk a great white shark on your own.")  

There is nothing to dread when you approach Advent as a season of preparation. Preparations take time. And patience. They don't happen overnight.

We are preparing our hearts for the celebration of the coming of the Lord.

We are not preparing our homes for a photo shoot, our children for a guest spot on America's Best Catholic Kids, or our resumes for a job at Liturgical Superwoman.

Do whatever best helps you and your family to prepare your hearts. If you do that, I promise you -- instead of the dreaded Jaws music, you'll hear songs of angels.

Here is a link to my "No-Panic Advent series."

It's a horrendously long post that might initially hearken back to that Jaws theme I was just eschewing.  But don't be scared away. The point in pulling together all my past Advent posts is to make things easier, not more difficult or more intimidating.

Think of the post as a cozy shopping center, with plenty of parking space. Park, browse, and pluck choices at your leisure.

On the Radio Again

Last week I had the great pleasure of talking with Kris McGregor of KVSS Spirit Catholic Radio in Omaha.


Kris hosts Inside the Pages, where she chats with authors about their books. Our extended interview can be found here, on her Discerning Hearts website.  I had such a lovely time with Kris, whose warmth and love for the Blessed Mother shine through her every word.

~~~~~

Tomorrow (Tuesday, November 16th) at 3 p.m. (central time), I'll be talking with Leo Brown at Real Life Radio.  You can listen live from the site -- just click on their live stream link.

It Was a Good Morning to Cry

A Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a lady. For a very long time, the lady, who did not believe in magic, did not want to have babies. But slowly, over many years, the lady witnessed strange things in her life. She came to see the strange things as threads in her existence, strands woven together by an unseen and powerful Magic. She became a believer in the Maker of such intricate, beautiful, and heartbreaking tapestries.

One day, a new magical thing happened. The lady and her husband suddenly wanted a family. Soon, the lady was expecting a baby. She was thankful that such Magical things had become a part of her life. She was very happy.

But then a sad thing happened. The baby left her mother and father and went to heaven far too soon. The lady and her husband were in mourning.

Eventually, they tried again, but their next baby left them too soon as well. The lady asked the Magic why It had offered her such gifts only to take them away.  There was silence for a very long time.

She was frightened and sad, but she knew she must trust the Magic. After all, had it not been that very Magic that had given her the desire for children in the first place?

When she found that she was expecting again, she dared to hope and her hope was rewarded. A beautiful daughter was born to the lady. And then another gift -- another daughter -- was given. There was great rejoicing.

The lady and her husband loved their two daughters so much that they hoped for a third child. But when they lost another baby ... and then another ... and then another ... the lady gave up all hope. The tapestry of her dream was in tatters.

But one day a miracle happened. The lady gave birth to one more beautiful baby.

Eight years later, with her husband and her three daughters at her side, the lady had the privilege of participating in a Holy Mass of Remembrance* for all lost children. There, she, her family, other parents, grandparents, and friends, remembered their beloved children. Tears were shed. Sublime music was played and sung. Holy priests presided, offering comfort and prayers to many. Together, all present gave thanks for the gift of life, in all its stages. They gave thanks to and for the life-giving Magic, whose name is Jesus Christ. They received His Body and Blood, and they rested in the knowledge that He is a good and merciful God. They entrusted the souls of their lost children to His divine care.

Then they had coffee, and juice, and cookies in the basement.

And the lady gave thanks one more time to the Magic for His many ineffable gifts, not the least of which are babies in Heaven and on earth, the awful beauty of shared grief, loving priests, and Altar Society ladies who provide cookies. 

~~~~~~~~~~

* Special thanks to my friend, R.  Sadly, she had a miscarriage last year. An initial conversation with Fr. S. led to more talks, then J. joined them, and then I did, too. And now we've begun "the Hannah Ministry" which we hope will offer comfort and care to grieving parents. Saturday morning was our first Holy Mass of Remembrance. 

"She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly." 

~~ 1 Samuel 1:10

(Photo credit: The Fairy Tale Door, by David Masters.) 

Poetry Friday: How to Be a Poet

I feel a wee bit bad posting this poem on a screen (you'll see why when you read it.) But I'm going to do it anyway because sometimes the first place you meet a poet is on a screen like this one. And I'd hate to think there's someone who hasn't met Wendell Berry's poetry, even on a screen.

Not to mention that there's no way I'll not post a poem with a line like this:

Accept what comes from silence.

And now, a quiet post:

How To Be a Poet
by Wendell Berry

(to remind myself)

i
Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill—more of each
than you have—inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.

(Read the rest here, at the Poetry Foundation.)

The round-up today is at Scrub-a-Dub-Tub.

(Carney + Winona) + (Emily) X (Melissa + Mitali) = Infinite Bliss

                               +

_____________________________

Infinite Bliss

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Syllabus for Maud Hart Lovelace Teens, 101 (Emily of Deep Valley, Carney's House Party/Winona's Pony Cart)

Prerequisites: None
Co-requisites: Every other Betsy-Tacy book

Course Description:
Introduction to delight.
Emphasis on excellent writing and character development.

Term:
The rest of your reading life.

Course Objectives:

On completion of this course, the reader will be able to:

1. Revel in great writing.
2. Claim fictional characters as new best friends.
3. Thank the publisher for reissuing timeless treasures.
4. Express gratitude to contemporary authors for lending their time,
             memories and forewords.
5. Schedule annual re-reads.
6. With relish, read books to and with one's children, nieces, friends
           (anyone who will listen.)
7. Demonstrate increased understanding of the human heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting next to me are two books: Emily of Deep Valley, with a foreword by Mitali Perkins:

 and Carney's House Party/Winona's Pony Cart, with a foreword by Melissa Wiley:

Buy the books. Read them. Share them. With everyone you know. 

Now, I'm not trying to sell you on the forewords from these wonderful women. No one buys a book solely for its foreword, right?  On the other hand, these introductions are, in their own way, a vital part of what these books are all about.

Mitali Perkins and Melissa Wiley offer very different prefatory words, but what they share is the same: books have a lasting impact.  Beloved books create their own kind of legacy.

I'm reading the Betsy-Tacy books to my Ramona, age eight. So far, we've shared the lives of Betsy and Tacy at ages 5, 6, 8, 10 ... Tib is there, too (but Tib doesn't mind being an afterthought. She's sensible that way.) And, just as my "Anne-with-an-e" and my "Betsy Ray" did, my "Ramona" is adoring the girls, the books, the lives, the families, the friendships. The books we love, and their heroines, become a part of our family.

To learn more, listen to the Book Club Girl, who will be interviewing Melissa Wiley and Mitali Perkins on November 15, at 7 pm (Eastern Time).  Find the details here, at BlogTalkRadio. (You can also go to that link to set up a reminder, so you don't forget to tune in!)

I'll be listening, and you can bet that a few other girls at my house will be, too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Disclaimer: Yes, I am the godmother of Melissa Wiley's youngest son. But, I do not blog about her books because I'm a friend. Rather, we became friends because we both love to blog about books. And kids. And life. And learning ... you get the idea.)

Spreading the Word: Homeschool Literary Quarterly looking for Volunteer Art Director

from the Inbox:

The Homeschool Literary Quarterly is looking for an Art Director!


The Art Director’s primary job will be to track down images to post with each of the pieces published in the HLQ.  He or she will also be responsible for choosing  the cover for the magazine.   Like all the positions here at the HLQ, the position of Art Director is strictly voluntary.  The ideal candidate will (of course!) be a homeschool parent, or a homeschool graduate, or someone in some way (enough “somes” in this post?) connected to the homeschool community.

Interested parties should send us an e-mail at publisher@homeschoolliterary.com.   Please spread the word of this new vacancy to all your homeschooling friends!

25 Random Things

First, Betsy did this meme. A few random things from my middle daughter's list:

3. I am wearing a green t-shirt with The Beatles on it.
5. I am currently reading Jane of Lantern Hill, even though I'm only 4 or so pages in.
7. I love my dog Sydney!
10. I have writing group today with some friends.
12. My hair poofs when it's humid.
15. I LOVE The Hunger Games. The books, not the actual games.
17. I'm working on the sequel to my novella.
18. I play violin.
 24.I greatly dislike my retainers.
25.WHAT????? I'M ALREADY DONE???!?! Okay. Bye!

 This inspired Ramona (who was looking over my shoulder as I read Betsy's meme) to do her own 25 random things. Here are a few of them: 

i am not in my pajamas yet.

i love my dog sydney!

i love veggie tales.

i like pretending that i am a governess for a 10 year old girl.

i know how to knit.

tink backwards is knit.

i so so so love Scooby Doo!

i greatly dislike the hunger games

i have met jim arnosky.

i like jim arnosky.


And now, mine. But I won't bore you with 25. Here are 12 and a half random things:

1. I can't abide bread pudding.

2. Atticus loves bread pudding.

3. I was a theater major for awhile.

4. Yesterday, Ramona told me that a chameleon in a new movie was named Pascal. My response? I explained Pascal's Wager to her.

5. I've lived in Massachusetts, Washington, Alaska, Florida and Nebraska.

6. When I was in high school, a rumor circulated about me that I was engaged.

7. I had never met the boy I was rumored to be engaged to.

8. My daughters think I need those annoying people from What Not to Wear. 

9. I may need those people, but fortunately neither my husband nor I care about clothes.

10. Grilled chicken, garden tomatoes and sliced avocados may be the perfect meal.

 11. I was an English major for awhile.

12. I remember Romper Room and Captain Kangaroo.

12 1/2. If I could go back in time, I would choose to visit ....

Out of meme time!

"Don't worry. You just do it."

This post originally ran on March 24, 2007

Growing Into Grilled Peanut Butter 

A couple of days ago, as I was making grilled peanut butter sandwiches, I remembered the mom who first made such a sandwich for one of my children. My friend, Andrea, a mom of five, had taken care of Anne and Betsy all day while I was at the hospital following a miscarriage. I remember being in awe of her. Not only did she take care of seven children that day, but she allowed one of mine to deviate from the planned menu of grilled cheese, and choose peanut butter instead. Grilled peanut butter? Was there no end to this woman’s creativity?

I realize I was easily impressed in those days (no offense, dear Andrea.) At the time, I was still adjusting to the role of "mom of two." It still seemed tremendously hard to me, and I couldn't imagine what a household with five or six or seven children must be like (though I was willing to find out, if God allowed it for our family. ) So, although I offered to watch other people's kids, it was always "an event" to me -- more chaotic, louder, and busier than I was used to handling. And, it always seemed that I needed people like Andrea more than she needed me. I never seemed to be able to "pay her back" sufficiently.

But, I did it. And, I got better at it. I grew into my role of "mom of two" and added the prefix "homeschooling" to that. Then I became a "homeschooling mom of three" all the while growing into "the event" of helping other moms out with their kids. What had once seemed daunting and impossible was, suddenly and without my realizing it, just part of my everyday life.

Several things recently have brought those early days of motherhood to mind. A week or two ago, I exchanged emails with a young mom of one, and she expressed the general anxiety we all feel when we have "only one": How will I handle two? I encouraged her not to worry too much about it, because (although we all do worry) she'll grow into the role before she even realizes what's happening. I also told her that having only one was actually harder, in many ways, than having two or more because that one child is looking to mom for everything, including constant playtime. (Giving your child more siblings/playmates is a very good thing.)

Then, I read Danielle Bean's Mom to Mom, and she touches on the very same thing. She explains to mothers why it's harder to have only one, and reminds them that the older ones do grow up and become more independent.

Then, I was reminded of all of this again when I recently visited with a wonderful, young mother of two who is considering homeschooling. I never think I offer very articulate answers to the kinds of questions that people have about more babies and homeschooling. From my end, I feel as if I'm sputtering, and repeating myself, and saying, "Don't worry. You just do it."

Not an especially well-crafted defense of my position. But, it's so true. And, in its simple way, comforting. It's an assurance that God will lead and provide.

As Love2Learn mom quotes, from Francis of Assisi:

Start by doing what is necessary, then do what is possible and suddenly you are doing the impossible.

I can't think of better advice for moms.

From "How will I handle another baby?" to "Can I really homeschool?" to babysitting a friend's seven children to making grilled peanut butter ....

Start by doing what is necessary.

God will lend a hand.

Why I Won't Bother to Write That Post About How I Always Leave the Voting Booth a Little Misty-eyed

... because Sherry Weddell said it all, and said it better than I would have, in this piece: 

Maybe it was the sheer dim, shabby, thread-bareness of it all.  Maybe it was the dusty church hall, the battered tables, or the elderly volunteers with their lists and stickers.  Or the cheap red paper signs reminding potential last minute campaigners (there were none) that they must stand 100 yards from the door to the polling place.

Go read the whole thing. It's short and perfect.

I told Atticus as we strolled home that evening that it happens every time: I am amazed, touched and incredulous that I can walk into an elementary school, stand in a rickety booth, darken a few oval spaces with a pencil, and it means something.

h/t: Mark Shea

Poetry Friday: In the Middle

Because I, too, am "in the middle of a life that's as complicated as everyone else's, struggling for balance, juggling time."

Because I love poems that hone in on the tensions of this life, the passing of time, the unsettling realizations of the temporal world, the uncanny way in which the mystery of love trumps everything else. Always.

Because it's Poetry Friday.

Because I love to share treasures.


In the Middle

by Barbara Crooker

of a life that's as complicated as everyone else's,
struggling for balance, juggling time.
The mantle clock that was my grandfather's
has stopped at 9:20; we haven't had time
to get it repaired. The brass pendulum is still,
the chimes don't ring. One day I look out the window,
green summer, the next, the leaves have already fallen,
and a grey sky lowers the horizon. Our children almost grown,
our parents gone, it happened so fast. Each day, we must learn
again how to love, between morning's quick coffee
and evening's slow return. Steam from a pot of soup rises,

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

The round up is at Teaching Authors today.

Bits and Pieces of Our Days

I started this post yesterday, but new bits and pieces of life prevented me from finishing. Today, I'll plow forward:

On All Hallow's Eve, our family gathered in the kitchen as Atticus divided his attention between the beef stew on the stove and two jack-o-lanterns-in-progress on the table. I was washing dishes, and the conversation meandered this way: 

We talked about pumpkins: roasting the seeds, jack-o-lantern styles, how the carving session had gone at the parish youth group, the ickiness of pumpkin innards ... all the usual stuff. Once the carving ritual was done, so was Ramona. She wandered off.

I then told Atticus a great story from the Christopher Hitchens' memoir I'm reading.  In a footnote, Hitchens mentions having dinner at a greasy diner with William Styron (dinner with Styron is a footnote? Oh, what a quiet life I lead. My footnotes involve crock pots and dirty socks, though not in the same footnote.)  Hitchens was making a point about debilitating depression and suicide. The side story involved a young waiter who told the diner patron, upon seeing his credit card, that he had a name much like a famous writer named William Stryon. Both Hitchens and Styron remained silent until the waiter casually noted that Darkness Visible had saved his life, at which point he was invited to join them and tell his story. (Presumably he was also eventually corrected regarding his hero's name.)

This led Anne and Betsy to ask about what Styron has written. Atticus detailed some of his many works, and we talked Sophie's Choice a bit, though I told the girls I didn't really want to ruin their feast day vigil with a full explanation of the plot. Anne then threw in that J.K. Rowling had created the Dementors based on her own depression. Betsy then urged me to read The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, which she just finished, and Anne reminisced that Yellow Star had been one of her favorites a few years ago. 

By then, Ramona was back and it was time to put our dinner-and-a-movie plans into action with It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.  Of course, poor Chuck suffers from his own kind of depression, but we had a charming time -- snuggled up on the couch, savoring Atticus' warming stew, thankful there were no rocks in our candy bags.

~~~~~

A couple of theater experiences lately: The girls all thoroughly enjoyed a local high school production of Beauty and the Beast over the weekend. And on Monday, we watched a traveling troupe perform a version of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  Our review? Let's just say that if I were a snarkily hilarious blogger, I'd have three days' worth of material.

~~~~~

Speaking of theater, I'm co-directing our parish's youth choir musical again. The choir director is completely to blame gets all the credit for getting this thing going every year.  I'm just along for the ride and to show the kids how to overact learn their lines. I also get to panic at the last minute over sets, costumes, and props. When they hand out the Guffies,* I'll be the first in line to gush with a glowing acceptance speech and sputter my thanks to all the little people (literally little people -- like Ramona, who's in the show.)

~~~~~

Last night I told Atticus, "Y'know those little Butterfinger bars that were left over? They're almost gone."

He was stunned. "How is that possible?"

"It's possible," I replied, "because you live with me."  Sheesh. You'd think the man would know me better after 30 Halloweens.

~~~~~~~~~~~

* Thanks to my friend and fellow theater critic for reminding me recently about Waiting for Guffman. Need. To. Rent.