Seven books that fell behind my bed

Seven quick takes! I hope you can see the pictures – WordPress is being a bag of butts, and won’t let me upload in the normal way, so I just pasted them in. Here are seven books I either just finished or am in the middle of, perhapsh indefinitely. “Perhapsh” was a typo, but I kind of like it.

–1–

Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood by Alexandra Fuller.

I have never read a book like this before. It’s so harrowing and so appealing. A memoir of growing up poor, white, and crazy in Africa in the 70′s and 80′s. It’s like Dostoevsky meets Florence King. I haven’t finished this one yet – had to take a break.

–2–

The Most of P.G. Wodehouse

Ah, I forgot I had this book! I was reading stories to the older kids occasionally, and it warmed my heart so much to hear them shouting, “He’s been throwing cats all the evening!” So delightful, so nice, so insane. Must get more P.G. Wodehouse into my life. This particular collection is nearly 700 pages long.

–3–

Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison

 

 

Meh. I wanted to like this book, but I just wasn’t buying it. She would have these wonderful, lyrical passages full of beauty and anguish, and then all of a sudden we’re back to, “Representative Black Man felt this way about his father, and, so you see, that is why he did those things to women. When will white folk see?” I don’t mind beingshown that, but being told that is just odious. I also don’t think she really pulled off the central conceit of the book, the stuff with the children’s rhyme. It was supposed to unify everything, but it felt tacked on. Maybe I’m missing something.

–4–

The African Witch by Joyce Cary

I don’t know if I can count this one, since I honestly don’t quite understand the plot. More white people behaving badly in Africa. I loved The Horse’s Mouth (about the artist) so much, maybe I should just go back and read that one again. Charley Is My Darling (about evacuees from London during the war) also broke my heart but landed much more tenderly than I was expecting.

–5–

Bob and Ray: Write If You Get Work

Transcripts of their nutty little radio skits from the 40′s and 50′s. Would this be funny to someone who hasn’t heard the audio? I have no idea. Here’s an excerpt of an interview with a P.R. rep from the Oatmeal Institute near Thanksgiving:

Bob: Well, this is an aspic mold, isn’t it, that you brought, and you’re gonna put that on the center of the table and try to  make people think it’s a turkey, or what?
Gibbes: No, no, you can’t fool — no, no, no, that’s not the idea at all. No, Bob, you’re pulling my leg.
Bob: You mean you bring it out and say, ‘Look at the mold in the shape of a turkey, this is oatmeal’?
Gibges: No, you say, ‘I think I’ll slice the oatmeal,’ and that’s it. It’s just that it’s in the shape, you can have it in the shape of anybody. I mean, I just pick a turkey because you have that at Thanksgiving a lot.
Bob: What success have you had with orienting the public, or changing the public’s conception of Thanksgiving dinner?
Gibbes: I haven’t changed the public’s conception of oatmeal one iota.

 

–6–

Bossypants by Tina Fey

 

 

I bought this at some airport and immediately become the worst seatmate ever. I was laughing so hard I had to put it down before I had to call the flight attendant for terbutaline. It’s not exactly a biography, and some parts were clearly just patched together to get the word count perking along, and she’s, you know, she’s not Mother Teresa. But oh my gosh, funny funny funny.

–7–

Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett

 

Technically I’m not reading this yet, because I haven’t gotten past the first few pages. But I read the first sentence and shouted, “WHAT?!?!” and read it three more times. Here is the first sentence:

I first heard Personville called Poisonville by a red-haired mucker named Hickey Dewey in the Big Ship in Butte.

I wanted to kiss Hammett for going to the trouble. Talk about earning your readership.

So, what are you reading?  Thanks to Kelly of This Ain’t the Lyceum for hosting the link-up!

 

 

If it saves even one American life . . .

The world is full of people who want to hurt, torment, maim, and kill. They all think the have a good reason to do these things, or else they would not be doing them. The Church begs us to be different. The Church begs us not to be an accomplice to intrinsically evil acts, either with our actual hands, or with our wills, or with our assenting words.

Read the rest at the Register.

L’Heimlich, Mr. Walker! L’Heimlich!

[pic] Fozzie bear pulls rabbi out of hat

 

Scott Walker, it seems, once covered himself in goyish glory with this ADORABLE note to one of his Jewish constituents:

scott walker munch

 

 

Well, it was nice of him to try; he’s a real munch. We only hope this won’t sour relations with the acidic community, or make things uncomfortable next time he speaks to the Anti-Defecation League. If it does get accused of being anti-semantic, there are other drinks besides that troublesome Molotov cocktail that he could offer. “Have a tequila!” he could sing out. I’ve even heard Hebews his own beer, which he could pass around while wishing everyone a happy harmonica.

If this doesn’t work, and someone vengefully changes the latkes on the door to the governor’s mansion, he could always move to that nearby state — you know, that big mitten-shaped one. Meshuggeneh.

Okay, yes, 100% of these jokes were lifted from the brilliant comment section. Here’s to a some good-natured teasing during a dark week. L’Heimlich, and no hard feelings. Goys will be goys.

 

In the spirit of Christmas, the hungry get a five-minute head start.

Or, why you should read the title of your wonderful, charitable program out loud several times, in front of several different people, before you make it official:

Hunt for the Hungry is a lovely program that allows local hunters to donate fresh game to the  needy through the NH Food Bank.

It does not, as the name implies, release into the wild dozens of hungry and desperate citizens of Southwest NH, to provide corking good sport for local hunters; or, as my ten-year-old son imagined it: “You’re hungry? Well, so am I!” [*ka-poww*]

PIC the most dangerous game

 

Next up: I want a word with the geniuses who dreamed up the “Catsplosion!” adoption event at the local Humane Society.

People. Just call me first. I’ll give you my honest opinion, I promise.

Etsy and handmade open thread! List your goods for sale here.

I do love handmade gifts. I’ve featured Robin’s handmade soaps many times, and yesterday’s post featured Theresa Barger’s Apple and Azalea shop, where you can buy handmade rosary bracelets and other items with free shipping.

The "Be Bold" rosary bracelet from Apple and Azalea

The “Be Bold” rosary bracelet from Apple and Azalea

Who else has an Etsy shop, or other online store for homemade goods? Leave a link and a short description in the comments.

Please note, in  your comment or at least in your shop, the last day you can accept orders with guaranteed Christmas delivery! Many’s the time I’ve wanted to order something nice from some crafter, but I can’t tell if it will get here in time. Let your customers know!

Also, no light-up pasties, please. You know who you are.

Okay, go!

PLEASE NOTE! You are welcome to leave links and descriptions on Facebook, butplease also leave them in the comments of this post! Facebook comments are transitory, but comments here will be up for viewing indefinitely, and you will get many more views that way. Thanks!

It was a beautiful confession.

PIC crying kid with running nose

[T]he priest said what this particular priest always says: “Thank you for that beautiful confession.” He says this when I have a long and sordid list, or a short and sordid list, or when he can barely understand me because my nose is running from the sordidness of it all. The point is, I am not aware of ever having made a confession that any normal human being would consider “beautiful.”

But the confessional is not a normal place.

Read the rest at the Register. 

So you want to be friends on Facebook?

It’s okay with me. But before you commit, you should read over at least one typical thread that came about this afternoon.

It began with a criticism of the theology department of Notre Dame, briefly touched on the complimentarity of men and women as professed in Catholic doctrine, progressed to making fun of the name “Candida Moss,” leapt into a discussion of Christian Domestic Discipline (or what we, in spiritual circles, refer to as “spanky-spanky”), then someone brought up St. Paul, and then things got bogged down on the topic of whether men can or should lactate. There were Princess Bride AND Monty Python references. Then two Notre Dame alumni realized they were in the same hall, and it ended “Go Bullfrogs!” forty minutes after it started.

I just felt you should know what you are getting into.

Free shipping on rosary bracelets and more from Apple and Azalea

My dear friend Theresa Barger makes elegant rosary bracelets and other jewelry.

apple and azalea header

She’s offering free shipping for my readers on orders of $10 or more through 12/20! (Free shipping orders are guaranteed to arrive by Christmas if you order by 12/17. For Christmas orders placed after the 17th, you may upgrade the shipping.) Use the coupon code ThanksSimcha (eeee! My first coupon code!) when you order.

Theresa also takes special orders, so if you have a specific color or stone in mind, let her know. If she has the materials on hand, she may be able to fill your special order in time for Christmas.

Here are just a few of the items Theresa is currently offering:

Garnet Red Wrap-Around Rosary Bracelet, $24

garnet rosaryThis bracelet has an old world, vintage look to it, with faceted, garnet-colored glass beads, and freshwater pearl nuggets for Our Father beads. There are matte gray seed beads separating the others, and the rosary begins with a black bead that has a cross stamped on it. This rosary has a full five decades.

It is strung on 2 1/4″ memory wire, which is comfortable and flexible, but retains its shape. It can be stretched to fit different size wrists.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be Bold Wrap-Around Rosary Bracelet. $26

be bold rosary

This bright, bold colored rosary is sure to attract compliments. It is made with vividly dyed magnesite and chalk turquoise beads.

Also a full five-decade rosary, made with memory wire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Theresa says: Besides the rosary bracelets, I love experimenting with new materials and styles for other projects.  This season, my newest item is

guitar pick earrings, $13, each.

guitar pick earrings

 

I punch the picks out of various recycled items – shampoo bottles, laundry detergent bottles, castoff school binders- and pair the color and texture with charms or beads that I have on hand. I think they are really fun and a perfect gift for a young (or young at heart) musician this year.

My favorite way to use up extra beads, however, is to make

beaded bookmarks, $8.50 each.

beaded bookmarks

I start with a strand of waxed linen, a material traditionally used for bookmaking. Leaving about 12″ in the middle to lay between the pages of your book, I bead the ends that hang over the edges. Some are fun and playful, some are classic and sophisticated.  Some are even for men! Each bookmark is truly individual and built around the beads I have at the time. These are a great gift to have on hand for teachers or for thank-you or get well gifts.

***

Theresa also offers other handmade items and accessories at Apple and Azalea. Remember to use coupon code ThanksSimcha for free shipping!  For guaranteed delivery by Christmas with the free shipping, you must order by the 17th. If you order after then, you may select an optional upgrade to priority mail, to ensure delivery before Christmas.

Theresa, here with three of her six kids, makes all her merchandise by hand in Webster, NH.

Theresa, here with three of her six kids, makes all her merchandise by hand in Webster, NH.

 

Tomorrow, I’ll post an open thread for sharing Etsy stores and other homemade merchandise.

Why it’s all right to say I “have” to go to Mass today

This morning, I was stunned — stunned, I tell you! — to realize that today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception, which is always a Holy Day of Obligation in the United States, even if it falls on a Saturday or a Monday. I posted something on Facebook about “yes, you HAVE to go to Mass today.”  I felt a familiar qualm about using that language, “have to go to Mass.” As someone inevitably points out, we don’t have to go to Mass; we get to go to Mass. If Catholicism were outlawed, or if we had to walk four hours through the tundra to get to the sacraments, we’d probably realize pretty quick that our “obligation” is more of a privilege!

And yet, there is a sweetness to simple obedience, too. Here are something I wrote back in May of 2013, when I was stunned — stunned, I tell you! — to realize that Ascension Thursday is a Holy Day of Obligation.

***

Humblesse Oblige

 

On Thursday morning, I had the following thought process.  Raise your hand if you can relate:

Let’s see, Thursday, Thursday.  Almost done with the week.
Let’s see, Facebook, Facebook.  Ha, look at that cat . .  Oh, poor lady, gotta pray for her . . . Ugh, MSM hypocrisy . . . Ha, look at that other cat . . .
WAIT.  Holy Day?  Of obligation?  Today?  Wait, no, they changed it to Sunday!  Or did they?  No, not in my diocese!  Phew.
Okay, but we really should go, even if we don’t have to.  I should go because I want to and because it’s a privilege, not because I have to!
But wait, I can’t, because I already made that appointment, and we were on the waiting list forever, and we already missed the morning Mass, and if we go at night, when will we eat?  Okay, we’ll have to find some other way to commemorate it.
But wait, I guess my diocese is in a larger ecclesiastical province, whatever that is!  I think it is a HDO!  But why didn’t they say anything about it last Sunday??

As it turned out, Ascension Thursday is a holy day of obligation where I live – and that’s kind of rare in the United States.  Most bishops of have moved the feast to the following Sunday, so you can fulfill your HDO obligation and your Sunday obligation at the same time.

On Holy Days of What-Was-Formerly-Obligation, we very often hear cries:  It shouldn’t feel like an obligation to go to Mass, anymore than it’s an obligation to eat a delicious feast!  If we truly understood what was happening at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, we’d be breaking down the door to get inside,and not hoping we get let off the hook.  Why, there are seminarians in Nigeria who live inside abandoned detergent bottles.  Tell them why you ‘can’t’ make it to Mass today, just because you aren’t obligated to.”

These things are all true.  And yet people who say them are glossing over something central to our existence as children of God:  the sweetness of obedience for the sake of obedience.

It would be wonderful if we simply always wanted to go to Mass.  It would be Heaven on earth if we enjoyed doing all the things we ought to do.  And sometimes it really does work out that way.  As we increase in holiness, our desires become more and more aligned with God’s desires, and there is less and less of a struggle between what we want to do and what we ought to do.

But knowing how you ought to be is not the same as being that way. The Church gives us obligations because she knows we need them.  This is an idea which sets the Church apart from so many other religions:  the much-derided “rules and regulations” that the Church lovingly imposes show that the Church understands human nature.  If we were only ever invited or encouraged, we’d hardly ever turn up.  I’d like to think I’m different, but I know I’m not.

And so we have our obligations:  go to Mass, confess your mortal sins, fast and abstain, and so on.  These obligations are in place because they confer grace to us.  They force us to do the things that are good for us.

But the obligations are there for another reason, too:  they give us a chance to obey.  We obey even if we’re crabby, we obey even if we have a headache, we obey even if we feel tired or bored, or if we feel guilty or unworthy.  We obey, in short, because we know who we are:  we are children of God.  We are under His protection, and that means we’re also under His authority.  What an uncomfortable concept for the 21st century American!  I do what I’m told, because that’s my job — it’s who I am.  Obedience for the sake of obedience acknowledges our imperfect natures, and God receives this obedience joyfully.

If obedience for the sake of obedience seems shabby and pathetic to you, think of it this way:  Sometimes, I delight in shopping for nutritious food, in preparing it in a delectable and attractive way, and in watching my children happily nourishing themselves.  It would feel odd to say I’m feeding them because I’m “obligated” to.  I want to!  I like it!  And that’s how it should be.

But sometimes, when dinner time rolls around, I’d rather just grab a bottle of wine and go hide in my room.  But I gotta give them dinner, and I’m really glad I totally understand that it’s my obligation to do so.  Now, it would be great if I always had that marvelous feeling of satisfaction and delight when feeding my kids.  But I suspect I’m working more time off purgatory when I feel nothing of the kind, but I do it anyway.  This is what motherhood means:  sometimes being the one who delights in working for your kids, and sometimes being the one who works for kids despite a complete absence of delight.  I know I’m a mother, so this is what I do.

It used to be that high born people were bound by a sense of noblesse oblige.  Because of their social rank, they felt themselves obligated to behave honorably and responsibility.  You could say that modern Catholics ought to cultivate a sense of “humblesse oblige” – the notion that we are obligated to obey because we’re sinners, because we’re fallen, because we’re children.  We obey because God is God, because the Church is the Church . . . and because it doesn’t matter if we’re delighted about it or not.  We obey because we willingly gave ourselves over to obedience to God the Father and to the Church, our Mother.

I’m grateful for the obligations the Church imposes.  And deep down, I wish she would impose more, because I’m lazy.  I’d like to see some Holy Days of Obligation moved back to weekdays, and I know my Lent would be more fruitful if my sacrifices weren’t optional.

All the same, it’s a good idea to remember that I obey, it’s because the thing I’m doing is good for me . . . but also because obeying itself is good for me.  Obedience for the sake of obedience isn’t everything, but it isn’t nothing, either.  At least it reminds me of who I am.  Humblesse oblige!

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.