Crappy solemnity to you; or, Maculate. All too maculate.

Black eye: Despite being Facebook friends with All The Catholics, I somehow didn’t realize today was a Holy Day of Obligation until about 10 a.m.

Feather in my cap: We figured out a way to get everyone to Mass without too much suffering: Damien would go into work late and bring the older girls, who had a day off for some reason, to noon Mass. Then, in the evening, they would stay home with the youngest kids while I took the middle kids to Mass, while Damien worked late. Not ideal, but not too horrible; and the three-year-old, who thinks she is Elsa and so will not wear a jacket at night in December in New Hampshire, will not be required to leave the house at all. This is why I get a little testy with the “Holy Day of Opportunity!” stuff. People who say that don’t have a kid who thinks she is Elsa.

Another feather in my cap: I got all my stuff done, even went on the treadmill and took a shower, even made the bed, and even remembered to defrost four balls of pizza dough.

Yet another feather in my cap: Since I was so ahead of the game, I thought I’d stop on the way home from school and go ahead and buy the food for the giving tree, while giving the kids an impromptu lesson on love in action.

Black eye: Going off routine meant that I accidentally went home minus two kids, who were waiting at the library.

Feather in my cap: They don’t know I forgot them. They think I was just sort of vaguely running late. Dropped off the other kids with instructions to grease and flour four pans and preheat the oven, and zipped back over to the library to get the little neglecterinos.  Got home, made four pizzas, thrust them into the oven.

Black eye: Made one kid cry over long division. Same kid that I had yelled at, on the way home, for breaking his back back zipper. Well, he was overstuffing it!

Feather in my cap: At least we don’t home school anymore.

Yet another feather in my cap: Ate supper, got everyone cleaning up and making tomorrow’s lunches, and even sat them all down to read an informative article about the Immaculate Conception to them, before it was time to go.

Black eye: Suddenly remembered to take the last pizza out of the oven:

photo (4)

Black eye: Tossed everyone into the car, shrieked instructions for the older kids to put Elsa in bed before we get back, and got to the church with about thirty seconds to spare. Discovered that the windows were all dark. No bueno. Must be at the other church on the other side of town! Go go go!

Yet another black eye: Nope, that church is even darker and more deserted.

Yet another black eye: On the way back to the first church, where Mass must surely be after all, engaged in conversation about whether or not it is illegal to own a pet monkey, and allowed one kid to tell another kid a story about how this one chimpanzee ate his owner’s face off.

Yet another black eye: Threatened to kill one kid as we rushed through the icy parking lot in the dark on the way to the church. Not the same kid I yelled at before! A different kid. Went inside and discovered that this church was, you guessed it, dark and deserted.

Feather in my cap: Sang both verses we could remember of “Immaculate Mary” on the way home. Will look up, “Hey, we tried” in Latin. Let the children pretend to be pet monkeys. Did not let them eat the black pizza.

And now it’s time for bed. Definitely, a feather in my cap.

 

Seven Quick Takes: Oy, have you got the wrong number

7_quick_takes_sm1

–1–

It being Advent, it occurred to me that Toad more or less makes an act of contrition in “Alone” in Frog and Toad All Year:

“Frog! I am sorry for the dumb things I do. I am sorry for all the silly things I say. Please be my friend again!” And then he falls into the water with all his sandwiches, amen.

PIC toad with basket

–2–

Here is a picture of Arnold Lobel with his daughter, Adrianne:

PIC Lobel with daughter

 

found here. It says:

She says what she learnt most from her father as an artist was “discipline and faith -and  you got up every day and just faced that drawing table whether you had an idea or not, and just kept at it the same hours every day, until you did have an idea. And generally it was a good one.”

Want to make a living doing something creative? Read and re-read and internalize the paragraph above.

It’s also probably a good idea to spend a good, long time creating things that you don’t care about at all — and learn to do a good job at it. If you’re, oh, let’s say, a writer, learn to hit the word count your employer wants, don’t use the words they don’t like, hit all the points they want you to hit, and make it readable even if the topic is deathly dull. And get it in on time, even if you’re sick, or bored, or think you’re too good for this kind of thing.

Your natural talent and your creative spark and your originality are just one aspect of what you have to offer, and they are useless unless you also learn discipline and skill. You’re an exquisite jain-yus? Who cares? Shed the idea that even one single person owes you a reading.

Also, learning how to do a good job whether you’re inspired or not helps you stress out less when you do what to write something that does mean a lot to you. It helps you go, “Oh, well, what the hell” when some editor makes a hash of what you submitted. You did your best, you turned it in, you cashed your check, you moved along.

PIC soapbox. These things need handrails for giant pregnant ladies who need somewhere safe to rant.

–3–

Speaking of brilliant, hard-working writers,my second-grader brought her journal home yesterday, and it was full of unfinished stories. Here is one:

photo (1)

“One night Ashley and Maya went to the grave of their old friend, Lisa. It all happed 4 years ago in a grave. The only person with her was her boyfriend, Jim. He claims that she was pulled underground by”

There was an accompanying picture two willowy teenagers with flowing hair, fleeing gracefully from a gravestone with an arm coming up from it. It appears that their dead pal was black. Talk about learning your craft! I don’t know how she knows that that’s how horror movies go, but I think she has a back-up career, if the whole ballerina thing falls through.

 

–4–

We showed the kids The Manchurian Candidate the other day, because, I forget why. We try not to keep stopping movies and explaining things constantly, but remember, we have seven daughters. So when Frank Sinatra meets the lady on the train, my husband got up, found the clicker, smacked “pause,” and said, “All right, now look, girls. If you are on a train and you meet Frank Sinatra, and he is all sweaty and shaky, and can’t even light his own cigarette, you do not give him your address.”

 

PIC Sinatra. She’s thinking, “Unstable? Secretive? Bathed in nervous sweat? HOT DIGGITY!”

In the interest of fairness, he also counselled the boys against proposing to girls who are clearly nuts just because they happen to take their shirts off when you get bitten by a snake.

In other news, I had forgotten just how weird this movie is.

 

–5–

Would you like to laugh until the dog gets worried? Check out Bad Kid Jokes. These are the jokes that kids sent into a joke site, and which they couldn’t use for . . . one reason or another. Sample:

A MAN ALWAYS LAUGHING HIS NAME IS WILLSON.
1 DAY A FREIND OF WILLSON ASK HIM:WHY YOU ALWAYS HAPPY?
WILLSON LOOK HIM FREIND AND SLAP HIM FREIND
AND THAT DAY WILLSON NEVER LAUGH BECAUSE WILLSON IS GHOST NOW

 

–6–

Benny helped me make a side dish for supper the other day.

photo (2)

 

 

Her recipe included baking soda, salt, cinnamon, cheese, sage, eggs, and miscellaneous. While breathing heavily, whisk all ingredients together until you’re bored.  Let congeal, then move onto wrecking up the bathroom.

 

photo (3)

 

 

This is the kind of thing that makes people say, “Oh, you are such an easygoing mother! You have such interior freedom! What wonderful peace you must have cultivated!” and I’m like, “No, this way I can be on Facebook.” Given the choice, I will almost always choose cleaning up a mess over keeping things under reasonable control.  That’s why we have ten kids. It just seemed easier than not having ten kids.

–7–

Speaking of getting things wrong, it reminds me of this:

Phone rings.
Mrs. Moskowitz: Hello?
Cultivated voice: Good awfternoon. I am calling to inquire whether you might be available to come to tea with her ladyship Tuesday after next.
Mrs. Moskowitz: OY, have you got the wrong number.

***

And that’s a wrap. After many years, Jen Fulwiler has passed the Seven Quick Takes torch onto the hilarious Kelly Mantoan of This Ain’t the Lyceum.  Head on over and say hello to Kelly and check out all the other QTs. Happy Friday!

This beats Cat Hole Road

. . . which is where I used to go for walks as a callow youth in my hometown.

As Mark Shea would say, “Hi. I’m twelve. This is funny”:  a map of all the rude place names in the UK. Here’s one detail, from Northumberland:

 

uk rude map

 

a region renowned for its fine cheeses, its historical castles and gardens, its birdwatching, and also a delightful congruence of Whamlands, Dirt Pot, Cock Wood, and Hairy Side. That’s it, I’m booking our next vacation there, unless I can find a vacancy in Devil’s Lapful. More maps here.

In conclusion, I would like to say:  Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.

Today, the internet broke Madonna

Probably, probably it’s only because my computer knows me and knows what kinds of things I usually search for and which I usually . . . ahem . . . don’t.

But I typed “Madonna” into Google today, and here was the top result:

madonna search

 

Happy day! Yes, there is something about Mary.

Broken Windows and Depersonalization

PIC broken windows

One aspect of a “broken windows” policy indisputably works, and that is the idea of cutting off crime at the root, before it has a chance to blossom.

But there are different ways to cut crime off. You could go in like a bulldozer, crushing petty criminals like Garner into the ground. Or you could do what a town in North Carolina did: they identify the petty criminals who help sustain the criminal subculture — and they give them a chance to get out, before they “blossom” into dangerous offenders.

Read the rest at the Register. 

I’m speaking at the World Meeting of Families!

Good grief, I totally forgot to tell you!ermahgerd

Don’t ask me how, why, or how, but they asked me to give a presentation at one of the break-out sessions of the World Meeting of Families in Philadelphia in 2015. My fellow Catholic Patheosi Diana von Glahn and Greg Popcak will be there, too!

Look, I’m on the list and everything. Uhh, you may have to scroll down a bit, down to page fourteen, during the lunch hour on the last day, which is where they totally feature the crowd-grabbers. You’ll see it says that my topic is “Go Forth: Evangelization and the Global Community.” I think you’ll agree that this title, while certainly guaranteed to attract attention, sucks. I’m pretty sure that that’s not the title I submitted, but then again, I’m pretty sure I left my turkey sandwich on the kitchen counter, and where is it now, eh?

So, youse  guys gotta help me come up with a better title. Remember, it has to do with families and evangelization, and it has to be about something that I can at least pretend to know about for about forty minutes, and the Pope is totally going to be there. Go!

Oh, sweet mystery of life, at last they’ve found the 100 missing brains!

PIC brain depository

The 100 brains that were missing from the campus have been found, sort of. Blah blah blah something something turns out there isn’t much of a story here after all. Who cares? This is a clear mandate from the universe to rush right out and watch Young Frankenstein, one of the most perfect movies ever constructed. You’ll laugh, you’ll weep, you’ll make yummy sounds.

PIC brain Hans Delbrook

Quotes from this movie make up fully 60% of the conversation in my family. The other 30%* is all from Blazing Saddles, which CAME OUT IN THE SAME YEAR, can you believe that? Boy. *The remaining 10% of conversation consists solely of the phrases “I think I’m pregnant” and “I really think you’re pregnant.” DESTINY! DESTINY! NO ESCAPING THAT FOR ME!

For the Child Crying

Help me, I beg the Father, to take up the task of Advent. The memories that awaken are silent Anna, raging Pat, chirping Mikey, his poor hand on the rail, begging his father, “No, Daddy, no!”

Read the rest at the Register. 

Today only: 15% discount on magazines from Cricket

To get the discount, use Promo Code NF12-002 at checkout.

cricket magazine

We have had subscriptions to lots of different  magazines from this publisher, including Cricket, Muse, Cobblestone, and Ladybug, and we have never been disappointed. The artwork is top notch, and the content is very well pegged for the various age groups designated, without being pandering, and does a good job of making the reader feel like he’s part of a club, with lots of in-jokes and extra featrures. Good stuff, and a nice present for a kid who has enough plastic crapola. These magazines are worth saving and reading over and over.

(In the past, I tried to save money by ordering magazines from third parties, but you may want to beware! I once never got the magazine and never got my money back –  just a pure scam.)

I’m not making any money off subscriptions! Just passing along something our family has enjoyed.

Allow me to share one of the finest works of art yet produced by Western Civilization

We haven’t heard “Mary Didja Knowwww?” at Mass yet, but IF WE DO . . .