April 12, Feast of Pope St. Julius I, a staunch defender of the Faith against the Arian heresy.
7:55 am // wake, morning offering
8:00 am // dress, wash face
8:10 am // start laundry
8:20 am // breakfast
8:40 am // reply to Facebook messages and emails
9:05 am // brush teeth, apply makeup
9:15 am // meditation
9:40 am // study Welsh
10:10 am // Afon wakes--feed, dress, tend to Afon
10:45 am // wash dishes, tidy up, chores, laundry
12:00 noon // lunch
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This is just a basic outline. Some days start later, and the time slots are rounded off. Some days I don't get a good start at all; others, I give up halfway through, or have some errand calling me away from the house. This is an ideal morning.
Some things I've learned:
If at all possible, I ought to dress first thing in the morning. It gives me a sense of something already accomplished and a demeanor prepared to face the day. I tend to want to put it off because I take a long time choosing outfits. I suppose I could lay out something the night before, but that's a bit too proactive for my personality.
Clean as you go. It saves you from having to do one big clean later on and reduces anxiety. (It really helps if you can teach this nifty trick to your husband! I'm still working on that one.)
If I'm feeling a bit under the weather or depressed, for any reason, give myself a free pass for the day and rest or do something emotionally fortifying, like reading a good book or going for a meandering walk. If I feel renewed afterward, I can pick up where I left off. If not, the tasks and tidying will still be there tomorrow!
Try to have something special planned for every day. It breaks up the monotony and gives a sense of purpose. So far, I've had: Welsh class, writing session at the library, Mama-toddler playgroup, planting seeds with Afon.
Laundry is the alchemical key to eternity. (Note to self: put this in a book some day.)
Jan. 24, Feast of St. Frances de Sales, bishop and doctor. Memorial of Our Lady of Peace.
A scene from my friend's wedding last weekend. For more photos from the wedding, see below.
-- 1 --
The Kumquat Festival ushers in early spring cleaning. I actually took a personal day from work because otherwise I'd never have managed. We're clearing out, gathering up, and tucking away. The plan is to hold a yard sale tomorrow (my first!). If you have any advice about how to best direct a sale of this type to be the most lucrative, the comment box is down below. (*points*)
As for clothes (mommy & baby), I have an inner criteria that go something like this:
Do I still like it?
Does it look good on me?
Do I still wear it?
Have I worn it in a year?
Do I fit in it?
Will I ever use it again (honestly)?
Does it have sentimental value?
Did someone I love give it to me?
Did whoever gave it to me mean it as a special present?
It's surprisingly easy to weed things out by these. Many of the clothes I'm holding onto answer a resounding "no" to all of the questions above.
-- 2 --
While we're executing this project, I'm listening to the latest Audrey Assad CD my sister gave me. I knew it would be a beautiful album because of the songs I had heard on YouTube and blogs, but I didn't guess that every song would be moving (with maybe the exception of Track 2, whose name I don't know, but I have to disclaim my exceptionally picky and temperamental sense of taste in music).
As a synthesis of liturgical, medieval chant, psalm, and actual prayer, it's incredibly moving and passes well beyond into the realm of Art with a capital A. I think your average Christian pop radio tune is praise, but that's only one kind of prayer. Audrey's songs are the deep internal groanings of the soul searching for God, the pilgrim aching for home never seen.
Jenna introduced me to this one, and it hits far too close to home for me to hear it without shedding a tear:
From the love of my own comfort
From the fear of having nothing
From a life of worldly passions
Deliver me O God
From the need to be understood
From the need to be accepted
From the fear of being lonely
Deliver me O God
Deliver me O God
And I shall not want, I shall not want
when I taste Your goodness I shall not want
when I taste Your goodness I shall not want
From the fear of serving others
From the fear of death or trial
From the fear of humility
Deliver me O God
Deliver me O God
And please pray for her husband. My sister tells me he has cancer. Again and again, God has shown me that in a mystery I don't understand, those who are most precious to him experience the most suffering. If you love Jesus, you love the Cross. The two can't be separated. And in the darkest moments, the fact that the former comes with the latter, is sometimes the only comfort. But it is utterly sufficient.
-- 3 --
The Squirt's birthday is coming up soon, and seeing as he has little friends to invite this year, I really want to throw him a birthday party. It's the day before Valentine's Day, so I was thinking about the weekend before. I already know a lovely lady who makes delicious cakes, so that's set. As for the rest, it will have to be low key for financial reasons, but I am all. about. themes. Right now, it's a toss-up between St. Valentine's Day and Where the Wild Things Are.
What kind of themes and birthday party life-hacks have you implemented?
-- 4 --
This week's Theme Thursday was catching people unawares. Oh Cari, what will you think of next?
-- 5 --
My nephew will be baptized into the Body of Christ this Sunday. I'm sad I won't be able to be there, but will you remember him in your prayers this weekend? I don't have permission yet to use his name on this blog, so you can just refer to him as "Christie's nephew." c: Thank you!
-- 6 --
Haley sweetly shared Everything to Someone over on Carrots for Michaelmas, which delights me because I respect Haley for her thoroughly good literary taste and have turned to her well-established practice of liturgical living in striking out on my own liturgical lifestyle. Someone must have acted on her advice and nominated EtS for Bonnie's Sheenazing Catholic Bloggers Award, in two divisions. Like in Whose Line Is It Anyway?, where the points don't matter, the only reward for winning is the sparkly-smug self-satisfaction . . . but that works for me! And it's just really fun. We need more fun for fun's sake.
When I upturned my Advent wreath to knock all the dried wax crumbs out of it, a half-eaten pretzel fell out.
This is a suitable metaphor for living with an extremely active and suspiciously intelligent but mostly mute almost-three-year-old. Just as I'm trying to go along my way juggling the average life difficulties, something unexpected and inexplicable falls out. Like a pretzel in an Advent wreath.
Or salt in the gingerbread train. Or a mascara wand in my face cream. Or a sodden stuffed puppy in the bathtub with my hairbrush. He also likes to stand on cardboard boxes simultaneously rendering them useless and endangering his own safety, empty the drawers of folded clothing, push the chair stealthily to access long-forgotten candy and leave the discarded wrappers all around the house and chocolate ground into the carpet. Sneak several gulps of my energy drinks when I'm not looking, unravel the yarn and wrap it around his wrist fifty times 'til his hand is blue, go through twenty sheets of paper in one sitting and then rip them up one by one, savoringly, deliciously. Coloring--on everything, with everything.
I hear there are a mystical species of children that exist who sit quietly and color or look at a book and don't help themselves to all the contents of the refrigerator when they want a drink. Hm.
Last night's meal somehow made its way onto the floor and in the fabric of the chair (why?); garbage is in need of constant rotation, but seeing as how the trash bins are down two flights of stairs and around the back of the building, it's not something I attempt with a toddler in toe if I'm not already going out; most everything within little-person reach is on the ground (because . . it belongs there? Whu? I just don't get it.) Orange peels, egg shells, ripped up paper, and wads of tape. Things that are fragile or projects that are important to me must be set immediately out of reach, and so are usually piled on top of the pretty things for safety, but successfully obscuring said pretty things and contributing to the mess. Oh, and the laundry. Always. Needs. Doing. What the heck? There's two of us here! I'm putting myself out there to be judged and teased with these photos, but I'm feeling rather brave today. Anyway, I don't believe in being fake; and impressions of being more put-together than I am may be possible if I only show the carefully staged and cleverly focused photographs. That's not me. I'm not a housekeeper and only a little better as a cook. Do you remember the Amelia Badelia books from your childhood? About the silly maid who had to be told everything very clearly because otherwise she would misconstrue it--pull out a pen and paper when told to "draw the curtains," mix up a cut calendar in the cake batter in place of dates? That's kind of me. Idiot savant. I can read the heck out of a book, and am fairly good at writing one. As for knowing how to do anything else, it's more or less a toss up.
The antibiotics my doctor gave me for mycoplasma (pneumonia) seem to be working. After three days of taking them, I can't believe that I'd forgotten how it felt not to feel bad; not to feel bad for me, which means a great deal of supplementing with energy drinks and medications, but still. Functioning. But there's no way of knowing whether I'm just having a good spell and will feel poorly again tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that. Anyway, I've been thinking about my general unwellness and realized that if this does turn out to be something, especially fibromyalgia, which is more or less untreatable (I hope not--I think not), my lifestyle is going to have to change permanently. It's forced me to appreciate not living in a picture-perfect climate. It's actually kind of liberating.
Nov. 18, Feast of St. Rose Philippine Duchesne, a French nun of the Order of the Sacred Heart who became a missionary to the Potawatomi in America at the age of 71. Her convent was a wigwam, and the Indians called her "the woman who always prays." She is patroness against the opposition of Church authorities.
Today, I am. . .
Feeling . . . better. Almost energetic. Saturday I woke up feeling OK for the first time in nine days. Also, agitated at the unfailing humidity.
Seeing . . . all of the ridiculously cute and affordable clothing I stockpiled for the Squirt for the winter. They're size 3, so they'll last through next year! Poor child has looked like a ragamuffin for the past year or so, what with hand-me-downs and the distinctive lack of attractive and fashionable toddler boy clothes for reasonable prices. I got him three sweaters, a cardigan, a polo, a long-sleeved polo, and four pairs of non-jean pants! All right!
Next time, maybe I'll even buy something for me!
Smelling . . . the Squirt's lavender bedtime body wash. Soothing.
Tasting . . . rosemary and thyme, sauteed with mushrooms, onions, and garlic in olive oil for our dinner.
Grateful . . . to have good spells in-between my poor health. And for the poor health, too, so that I can offer it for souls.
Reading . . .Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. I have a theory that if I agreed to read Twilight or another favorite of Jenna's, I'd actually read Harry Potter for once! When you've made a commitment to do something, why is everything else so tempting?
Oct. 29, Feast of St. Narcissus. When three wicked men accused him of a crime, they confirmed their calumny by swearing terrible oaths: one that he might perish in a fire, the second that he might be struck with leprosy, and the third that he might lose his sight, should they be false. All these things came to pass. The first burnt at night by an accidental house fire; the second contracted leprosy the third, seeing this, feared for his life and confessed his slander, continually weeping, thereby losing his sight before the end of his life. St. Narcissus lived to be 116.
If I do nothing else for my seasons, at the very least, I decorate accordingly. There's something about a home that reflects its environment and of a family that is mindful of the turning of the earth and the phases of the moon, who, with Saint Francis, calls them brothers.
In the Letter to Diogenetus, written around the 2nd or 3rd century AD, it is written "Christians cannot be distinguished from the rest of the human race by country or language or customs. They do not live in cities of their own; they do not use a peculiar form of speech; they do not follow an eccentric manner of life." It is a peculiar paradox of the Christians that we simultaneously live in the world but are not of it.
This doesn't have to take form in spooky, commercialized Halloween decorations. It could be something as simple and elegant as bringing in seasonal foliage and flowers. Children in particular will enjoy scouring their backyards and parks and forest paths for treasures. The changing of linens, especially in the north at this time of year, is appropriate. Cool cotton is exchanged for heavier wool and quilts. The smells of wood fires, baking apples, and savory soups are better than expensive candles. I keep pine cones year-round, but they are especially nice accents this time of year.
But if I want to get into the "spirit" of All Hallows' Eve (and I do), I aim to go heavy on the creativity and easy on the pocket.
First, I try to decorate with steals from the dollar store that don't scream--or howl, or screech--"mass manufactured." The key is to be picky. I buy what catches my eye and what will integrate well with my decor.
Paper jack-o-lantern cutouts. I put one in each panel of the widest window in the sunroom. It's neat that you can see them from outside as well as in. (Also the damage from where it was taped up from last year!)
It looks and hangs like a fancy cloth banner from a craft store, but it costs dimes. You could probably even make your own--find a template or throw a collage of patterns together and save as an image on your computer (I love Picmonkey), and print, cut, glue, hang. The orange lights are about three dollars at dollar stores, but if you don't want to waste it, Christmas lights work just as well.
I've actually found the template for this square banner in the template options of my computer at work, even though I bought this banner on clearance out of season last year. Imagine that! Someone had the same idea I had (see #2). Meanwhile, I replaced my usual post cards on the clothesline with vintage-style greeting cards. They look like something ordered off of the oh-so-pricey Victorian Trading Company, but they're Hallmark. I use one of each type and mail the rest to friends!
They're made out of cheap materials and paper, but you don't have to feel like a pollution bug. Pack them up at the end of the month and save them for next year! If they look a little shabby, all the spookier!
Now my personal favorite: pillows. I've long proclaimed that changing pillow covers (along with other linens) is the easiest, fastest, and most effective way to decorate for the seasons. If you have a fairly neutral color palate to work from, you'll have full reign of all kinds of colors and patterns. What fun! I change the pillow cases on the pillows that are practical additions to my bed, sofa, and chairs, and you wouldn't believe how instantaneous the transformation is.
I purchased clearance fabric from JoAnne's. I don't sew, but I understand that it's fairly easy if you have a machine. I had my sister whip together these pillow covers from the fabric in under two hours (that's six sewn cloth items in an episode of Sherlock!).
I chose this burlap fabric because it's sturdy and will stand up to my toddler. But let's be honest. I wouldn't have even looked at it if not for the pattern . . . do I have to use the word chic? I think I will. Well, if there are any fashion-minded fiends out there.
The pumpkin-shaped pillow was a splurge buy from JoAnne Fabrics. It originally came with two glittery black bats, popping out on curling wires. But my son made a speedy end of them. Once again, pillows folks. Fairly durable.
Seasonal items include found things from the natural world that I mentioned above. Some are things that I can incorporate into my themed decorating but which I can use year-round.
A bright berry wreath teetering on the edge between dark orange and light red can transition into winter.
Autumn-colored flowers, either purchased at the store or picked in the field.
Candy corn is excellent for decorating. Place it in clear jars, cups, candle holders, and lanterns for instant color and interest. [not pictured] Acorns and pine cones gathered outside and arrange in similar ways are add variety and texture to your "vase fillers."
I love the Chinese lanterns that are blooming this time of year. Living as we do in central Florida, it's the only color change we get.
The dried eucalyptus wreath fills our whole home with a sweet smell and puts the finishing touch on our sitting room/dining room/sun room. I've wrapped purple lights around it. (Warning: be careful of fire hazards! We do not leave this unattended!) The dreary fabric was bought at the dollar store in the Halloween section--but it's just black cheesecloth! You can buy cheesecloth in tons of stores year-round, and you might already have some. It serves well for creepy draped fabric. If it's old, musty, and torn with holes, that's prefect. I keep the same cheesecloth and break it out every year. Cheap as free!
[not pictured] Some places sell dried turning leaves this time of year. Hit up the produce section of your grocery store for Indian corn, husks of wheat, gourds, pumpkins, and affordable, easy, table-to-tummy decorations.
Okay, so we've been good with our Halloween decorating tricks--now it's time to treat ourselves! The extra stuff doesn't have to be Pottery Barn priced. If you keep your eyes peeled for year-round deals, especially post-season clearances, you can snatch up some nice stuff for next year. (Also, since we're Catholic, we get two days of festive extension after the secular holiday. So there!)
This perfectly useless but perfectly handsome vintage jack-o-lantern hanging wall-thing was purchased at Target.
The bat decals were last year's unsold Martha Stewart wall decorations. Nice! (There's a huge witch silhouette that came with these, but I don't have a window or wall space big enough for her yet.)
Stripey straws can be used for all kinds of things: in caramel apples, candy melts, or just stuck in a class of chilled cider for instant festivity. My son likes drinking out of straws, so I buy them anyway. And they make such a picture sitting there on the cupboard in their cylindrical containers! (Now imagine if you had potions bottles to go with them! Next year, next year. . .) I got these either at Target or JoAnne's. I've seen black-and-white skull ones at Michael's that could do triple duty for Dia de los Muertos and Mardi Gras.
Whatever you do or don't do for the season, make sure you do it with your family. I say this for my own sake. It's easy to get wrapped up in the hype and get tied down to perfection and neglect to have fun, or get frustrated at my little boy for re-arranging my pine cone display (Every. Single. Morning).
Last, though while we may go through the movements the way other people do, we are mindful that they are not as other people do them. On the contrary, they are suffused with purpose; and all or daily, mundane doings elevated and made as prayers. "Pick up a pin for the love of God, and count your day well spent." As the writer of the Letter to Diogenetus continues,
Yet, although they [the Christians] live in Greek and barbarian cities alike, as each man's lot has been cast, and follow the customs of the country in clothing and food and other matters of daily living, at the same time they give proof of the remarkable and admittedly extraordinary constitution of their own commonwealth. They live in their own countries, but only as aliens. They have a share in everything as citizens, and endure everything as foreigners. Every foreign land is their fatherland, and yet for them every fatherland is a foreign land. They marry, like everyone else, and they beget children, but they do not cast out their offspring. They share their board with each other, but not their marriage bed. It is true that they are "in the flesh," but they do not live "according to the flesh." They busy themselves on earth, but their citizenship is in heaven.
My principle means of storage around the house are hooks. Not closets, not shelves, not drawers. Those last three present too much of a temptation to the Master of Destruction, who insists on emptying, unloading, and unpacking everything. According to him, the floor is the proper place to store unused household items.
So I have a lot of hooks. Some are commercially bought and pretty, others are loose pegs purchased online and at thrift stores, fixed to the walls. Yet more are Command hooks, the kind you put up during Christmas to keep a wreath in place if you don't have a wreath hanger at hand.
My inspiration for hooks hinges on my affection for pre-industrial households and farmhouses. And while trunks and cupboards are familiar pieces of furniture, the hooks are the best way to assure things that I don't want moved or messed with stay where they are.
I got out to the second half of Mass this morning and even had enough stamina to let the Squirt loose on the playground afterward.
The detox/cleanse has smoothed the way to discipline in other aspects of my life. I already mentioned the growing tidiness of my home; but there is also a clarity of time and direction that has been absent from my life, especially recently, what with my self-imposed and over-burdened calendar.
With rhythm comes freedom. The paradox of living one's life according to a (semi) rigid schedule is that rather than absorb time, it multiplies it. I find myself with more of it on my hands than if I'd had a shapeless, unplanned day, with the hours laid out before my feet, seeming to go on and on forever. The impression is deceptive, and it tricks one into a sense of too-much-time-to-be-wasted. With the result being, it is wasted. While a day divided into concrete plans forces me to make the most of every scrap of second.
Even in a day without appointments and work scheduled, I enjoy rising and setting to my morning routine: vitamins, breakfast, prayer, dress and groom myself and my son, make the bed, clear up the kitchen, check the e-mail, and blog. Then I can turn to the tasks I must attend. Or I may take some leisure time: read a book, watch a television show, call or write a friend, surf the net, free-write, play with my son. Grocery shopping is an activity which I love to use to divide the day into sections, and more frequent marketing helps me with meal planning, healthful eating, and budgeting. It's also an outing for entertaining the short attention span of my busy toddler.
Like all aspects of Christian living, it goes against first instinct to restrict one's treasured freedom; to say "no" sometimes to people who ask something of you; to anchor mealtimes throughout the day and clear all other commitments for the daily bread. But I've found that I end up gaining all these things back again, and more--the energy to visit with friends, the satisfaction of accomplishing a day's important tasks, and plenty of time for soul and self, for rest and relaxation, for play and . . . yes, recess!
Exhausted from "playing," he finally collapses and falls asleep mid-scramble. In view: unpacked draws, shredded papers, leftover waffles from breakfast, a relocated vacuum, board books, and a stray blind.
The chief cause of disorder, messiness, and chaos in my home.
When I was young, I couldn't understand the hullabaloo over a messy house. Why so much discord? It was a source of painful contention between myself and my parents; I thought, why can't they just let it go? I knew I had more important things to do, books to read, photos to scrapbook, poems to pluck out of the air. You can't control everything in your life down to the last detail. Mere living is going to create messes. I'ts the sign of existence. There's such a thing called the Law of Entropy, which seemed to back my case that everything, left to itself, neither abused nor taken care of, would approach a greater and greater state of disorder.
I don't know what shifted or clicked into place or turned the gears: but nowadays I am so undone by a disorderly home that I can feel the frustration choking me like a cloud of cigarette smoke. It fogs my mind, puts my heart thumping, and makes me panic. I hate that I'm like this. I hate that the state of my house can affect me so much as to alter my mood, making me cold and short with my son and husband, interfering with my creativity and clarity.
I know that some of it is about control: when so much in my life feels like a runaway train in a black-and-white western, the cleanliness of my home is one way I can gain the upper hand, so to speak, be a Big Woman--more like a spoiled child on atop a hill claiming to be king of the world. I need to let that go, acquiesce into the arms of God, know that He is in control of everything and I am in control of nothing, and with that find peace.
But I think there is more to it than that. Something tugs at my sleeve, saying, "It's not just about having control." I am and was always moth-antennae sensitive to my environment. My surroundings affect not only my mood but my ability to perform. Productivity is clogged if I'm distracted by an ugly home, whether I know it is because I should clean it or because it is just difficult to accomplish things when I don't know where I put down my pen or my shoes or am tripping over that pile of laundry every time I walk through the hallway. I want to be more productive, not less. That's tricky because one could easily be consumed in the up-keep, cleaning at the expense of all else that is more valuable and worthwhile: a picnic with my family, prayer time in front of the Sacrament, writing letters to friends.
There is also the artistic sense in me, that thrives in a lovely home, with pretty meals, eclectic music, and a rhythm like that of a monastery, alternating work and repose. Surrounding myself by beauty is so, so important to me. At one time, I would have thought of it as a shallowness, and reprimanded myself. Stepped into self-imposed guilt like a well-worn dress. But not anymore. One can create beauty in so many ways. It's not about stuff. A vignette of colorful pebbles, pine cones, and dried flowers in a glass is a drink of beauty in a home, and it costs nothing but a walk outdoors. An old quilt folded on top of a trunk. Warm homemade bread wrapped in a clean dishtowel.
I don't want to be the way I remember my family being: the arguments forever circling around "pick up your laundry," "put your plate in the sink," "I don't like your shoes here," etc. I want to be free of that conflict, the kind inside and out, in my soul and running back and forth on the lines of communication between my family, like electricity. I'm not sure what I can do to exercise more patience and peace and letting-go. Perhaps the old adage in this instance is applicable: fake it 'til you make it.
In the meantime, I can do things that will ease the tension and struggle, by trying to keep on top of the mess and intervening before it gets out of hand. So I drew out this plan. It's not hard-and-fast, more a guide, but if I do follow it closely, I know I will save myself stress. There are five rooms in my home, and five days in the work week, so I've divided the chores thusly:
MONDAY--Bedroom
clean windows
make bed
dust shelves & tables
sort and wash/dry/fold/put away laundry, esp. sheets
vacuum
TUESDAY--Sunroom/Dining room
sweep, mop, and vacuum
vacuum & arrange sofa
clear & wipe down table
put away miscellaneous objects (toys)
clean windows
WEDNESDAY--Kitchen
shake out rugs (wash if needed)
sweep, mop, vacuum
unload dishwasher
clean counters, stove, table, etc.
put away miscellaneous objects
THURSDAY--Bathroom
scrub bath tub & shower
scrub sink & counter-top
clean toilet (in and out)
sweep & mop & vacuum
put away miscellaneous objects
fold towels and/or replace with fresh, clean ones
clean mirror
organize & clear away shelves
FRIDAY--Back room
vacuum (& hallway)
put away misc. objects
organize closet & clothes
clean windows
clear & organize desk, dresser, surfaces
ALL WEEK
take out trash, put away groceries, pick up after the Squirt, wash dishes as used, put away clothes
The weekends--and here I may vary which days are weeks and which are weekends depending on my work schedule and how tired I am--should be taken off, except for the ALL WEEK chores. Those are necessary to keeping myself from getting behind and creating a snowball effect that will trip after my heels, chase me, and threaten to knock me over completely, so that I am back in the helpless Cathy-comic caricature, crying in a heap on the floor and tugging out my hair.
My home after an entire afternoon of elbow work. I forget how pretty it is, and how really pleased I am with how it's shaping up and turning out to be. Maybe one mythical day, in the distant future, in a galaxy far, far away, it will stay clean . . . but who am I kidding? I'm better off holding out for a maid!
{happy}
Daddy and baby have got to spend some quality time together these past few weeks. Hubby returns to the home front on the 4th of July (ironic), but we've agreed that if we haven't emegrated by then, we will fly to visit him in Wales in six months' time.
{funny}
" . . . we're going shopping."
{real}
Ah, there's the home I recognize. This is actually a modest representation of the disaster. Now the spotless clean and fresh living/dining room you see pictured above is littered with crumbs, crayon scribbles, orphaned pillows, and the table is absolutely devoid of all previous occupants.
Will I ever post a non-link-up again? Will the Harry Potter Project a.k.a. Harry Potter book club post ever be accomplished? Will I actually follow-up on my first weak attempt at a blog giveaway? Stay tuned to find out!
Linking up with Madame Jen at Conversion Diary for this week's 7 Quick Takes Friday!
-- 1 --
I have a few interactive posts planned for Everything to Someone in the following weeks:
a discussion of the recent film Les Miserables--possibly the most Catholic major movie I've seen out of Hollywood since The Passion
the phenomenon of blogging as community, replacing the old-timey function of the village well, and why it's so important, especially to women
addressing and opening up to discussion how women are "slaves to fertility," in a different way than secular society tries to say we are (don't worry, no plans to go into great detail)
some thoughts on the Dove real beauty Youtube video that's been going around
a 2012 Tuscany Prize for Catholic Fiction: Short Stories Collection giveaway. So stay tuned!
-- 2 --
Now you can see the funny, talented film my friends made. Maybe there's a cameo role in my future? c;
Pay attention, because this is my kind of humor!
-- 3 --
The domain name of this blog is going to be changing to everything-to-someone.com. After Grace's post at Camp Patton, I decided it was time to make the minimum-risk investment. So keep an eye out. I don't know if you'll have to re-subscribe or what. If so, I'm really sorry for the inconvenience! Please take a minute to continue to follow when/if the time comes.
-- 4 --
The Squirt oh-so-helpfully stuck a blue crayon in the dryer, unbeknownst to yours truly, so now all of my clothes have dried with bright blue smudges all over them. I'm washing them again. Veteran moms, is there any special formula to remove this kind of stain? I'm afraid that the drying set the color. :c And how do I get the crayon smudges off of the inside of the dryer if they're not budging?
-- 5 --
My youngest sister prodded me into watching Ducky Dynasty. I said, "You must be crazy I do not want to see that." So she sneakily played a recorded episode while we were in my parents' living room and I was doing something else. I caught snips of dialogue and couldn't help laughing. These men aren't stupid rednecks. They're actually pretty intelligent and very funny.
Oh, well. I've been looking for a new comedy since Liz Lemon retired. The other show in the running so far is Parks and Recreation. Thoughts on that?
-- 6 --
No news yet from the job opening I applied for, so keep your prayer warriors out on the front line.
Meanwhile, there is a Harry Potter read-along in the works. I've only read the first one years ago, so not only am I missing out culturally but professionally--since fantasy/fairy tales is the genre that my writing most fits. Headquarters for my explorations on that will be at Spinning Straw into Gold. Any and all are welcome to join us!
-- 7 --
It's so calming to have flowers in the house again. I haven't had any since Saint Patrick's Day, unless you count the decapitated Easter lily:
I peeked at the bank account today and was pleasantly surprised, so decided to splurge. Ya'll take care, and please have a flower-ful, safe weekend.
