




Back next week with more of whatever it is we do here.
Oh, and this one is for Christian:

Catholic culture, education, family, and humor
"A Christian should be an Alleluia from head to foot." - St. Augustine
I'm about 12% Alleluia on any given day, but I'm working on it.





Back next week with more of whatever it is we do here.
Oh, and this one is for Christian:

I’ve been reading up on Christian patronage of the arts throughout, you know, the sands of time. I’m trying to go roughly in chronological order, and to understand the stories of the people who funded the incredible treasury of Christian art through the ages – whether we are talking about small congregations who commissioned a fresco or super-wealthy-kinda-sketchy bankers who funded a Renaissance. Here’s one snippet that struck me:
The Via Salaria Sarcophagus…provides a frieze of images that can be, but do not have to be, read as Christian. At this date, we can be sure, most artists or craftsmen did not work exclusively for clients of one religion…nor does it seem to be inconceivable that it was made for a husband and wife only one of whom (in such cases usually the wife) was Christian.
John Lowden, Early Christian & Byzantine Art
(emphasis mine)
Emily Stimpson has a terrific article posted at OSV right now on the need for Catholic art to be transcendent and beautiful on its own merits, not just because it’s created by Catholics. I was particularly intrigued by Dr. Eugene Gan’s remark that “Despite the great message and intentions of its creators, media that’s not skillfully made inadvertently communicates that perhaps the message is not the best, that there are “better” truths elsewhere, and that we don’t have what it takes to make a great case for truth.” There’s a healthy debate going on in the comments over the merits of There Be Dragons, in particular, and the question of whether this demand for excellence in Catholic media is beneficial or creates a cultural divide that can hurt up-and-coming artists. I really encourage you to check it out, and also to enjoy Simcha Fisher’s response to the article – “when you tell a better story, people listen to what you have to say.”
This idea of creating images that can be, but do not have to be, read as Christian – it’s counter to much of the current approach Christians take to creating works of art. Rather, we end up with works that are a heaping helping of catechesis with less concern for the narrative itself.
And yet I’m not willing to say we should always sneak our Catholic Message in through a side door and hope nobody notices while the crowd goes wild over our fantastic film/statue/film about a statue. It’s just that we need to cut back on the “hit viewers over the head with the frying pan of TRUTH!” approach to the arts, and focus on good storytelling, whatever the medium.
Over at Korrektiv, we talk about Catholicism and the arts almost as often as we make obscure inside jokes under assumed names. We’ve been having quite the conversation sparked by the OSV article, and I loved Barbara Nicolosi’s comment that “we need to see ourselves as bequeathing beautiful things to the future, not just swatting back at liberal gnats in the present.” We can focus with tremendous intensity on avoiding media that offends or mocks us, but we don’t do much to nurture the artists in our midst.
I’d like to explore how we can bring about a revival of the arts by coming to understand our own role as patrons – the value of supporting artists, the tradition that our Catholic artists can both maintain and add to, and how to tell a cornball from a Work for the Ages. It underscores the value of a liberal arts education even for those who enter other professions – the responsibility remains to invest some of our wealth in the renewal of the culture.
I’m going to be featuring interviews with various Catholic artists over the next several weeks, focusing on getting the word out about whatever their current works include and trying to learn how the Internet has helped them to connect with patrons. I know all this talk of patrons sounds like I mean Decorating Daddy Warbucks’ Home with Catholic Fountains (doesn’t it?). But really, $20 can cover a donation to an independent film, a graphic novel, a St. Patrick print (perfect for his upcoming feast day!), or…salad, pasta, and a drink at one of America’s many fine interchangeable restaurants. It doesn’t have to take One Special Patron for an artist to succeed, and I want to encourage us all to reclaim that responsibility.
So!
Are you an artist? Do you play one on TV? Do you know a Catholic artist, one who would be interested in answering a few questions for me? Put your name and email address right here so that I can contact you:
And can you help pass this along to others who might be interested?
Sometimes, as educators, we have to do things that make us uncomfortable. Set aside our nervousness, our need for control, our desire for a safe and predictable outcome.
In other words, we have to substitute teach.
I remember when I was in Teacher Grad School, and our professor was giving us all sorts of helpful tips for managing behavior, planning engaging lessons, etc. I raised my hand and asked, “Do you have any specific for suggestions for being a substitute teacher?”
She looked me straight in the eye: “Never sub.”
I have a friend who is a permanent substitute teacher for a small school district, and she’s terrific at it. She has an easy rapport with the students, she gets them to do their work, and she has fun with it all. She enjoys the unpredictability of getting to visit a new classroom every day and she thrives on the challenge.
I couldn’t do it. I get so nervous when I’m subbing, EVEN if the students are MY OWN STUDENTS. At one school, we all covered one another’s classes during our planning periods when needed, because there was no budget for substitute teachers. So occasionally I’d be monitoring a room full of students I’d just seen for 55 minutes in my own classroom. I *still* felt apprehensive. I just like to have a plan, going in.
(I also have to say that it was far more often the reverse – my fellow teachers having to cover my classes – because I was both pregnant and migraine-attacky all year long. I still owe them my appreciation and probably a batch of cookies.)
It’s probably my perfectionism that makes it so stressful for me, and I’ve certainly gotten more laid-back about it. (Here I do not mean “perfectionism” as code for “it’s because I’m so awesome.” It means “I labor over minute details that are irrelevant to the big picture.”) I’ve also learned a few things along the way:
1. Try to learn the kids’ names. You won’t get it right. They know that. Show some effort. I like to repeat the students’ names one after the other, then keep starting at the beginning. “Carlos. Carlos, Amanda. Carlos, Amanda, Mikayla. Lawrence.” Even though you’re just going to be there for one day or one hour, making the effort gets things off to the right start. Use humor. If you don’t know a student’s name, make up a ridiculous name from the planet Randomia. Look the child in the eyes as you attempt to remember his/her name. It helps.
2. Break the ice. Amanda Brunet at Suite101 provides some clever ideas for getting to know your students as a substitute teacher. I particularly liked this one:
Unique Quirks
At the beginning of class, the substitute teacher can ask each student to write down something unique about himself on a small piece of paper. Subs can provide their own personal examples such as: “I like to eat pickles and peanut butter” or “I have sky dived three times”.Teachers then collect the pieces of paper and place them in a hat. Throughout the class time, the sub can pull out each piece of paper and read it out loud. Students should guess which unique quirk belongs to each classmate.
The suggestion to space this activity out over the course of a class period is great, as it helps you dangle a carrot in front of the class periodically to remind them “okay, let’s stay on task for another ten minutes and then we’ll try to guess some more of the quirks!” You would, of course, want to make sure you read through all of them in advance yourself…especially if you’re teaching middle schoolers.
3. Follow the lesson plan. Sometimes, you’re subbing because the teacher suddenly collapsed in the break room with chills and fever, and the lesson plan is “I don’t know, because she was going to write the lesson plan for today during her lunch break but then she started to feel nauseated.” Fair enough – we’ll come back to that. But often, there’s at least some semblance of a lesson plan. Follow it, and don’t make comments about the caliber of what they’ve been assigned.
4. Be ready for the unexpected. Perhaps there is no lesson plan.
Bring a book to read aloud to the students – something with lots of voices and action, that will hold their attention.
Take a set of logic problems
– most kids enjoy these (along the lines of “There is a room with no doors, no windows, nothing and a man is hung from the ceiling and a puddle of water is on the floor. How did he die?”) and they can easily be turned into a class discussion activity with students raising their hands to make guesses.
Have some kind of prizes/rewards handy. I have lamed out on this the last few times I’ve subbed, and resorted to giving quarters to the winning team in Jeopardy. It was ridiculous, and yet – they were motivated. (Stickers are a perfectly adequate reward.) (I also promise them “thirty thousand imaginary dollars” in instances where I am truly unprepared to give any semblance of a reward.)
5. If it’s not working, change the plan. Last week, I tried to do a game of Make Your Own Bingo as a review with a class of second-graders. They were very excited about it, but I realized that I hadn’t allowed enough time. They were still painstakingly writing words from the chalkboard on their papers when I decided to scrap that plan. They…were displeased.
So I stood them all up and announced we were going to play a game called “This Way, That Way.” An awesome, incredible game that I…would make up on the spot. Awesome.
“I’m going to give you a clue and two possible answers. You stand on the side of the room you think is the right answer. Ready?” (It helped that this classroom had a large open space up front with a rug.)
“This word means the special super-food for your soul that you receive through the Sacraments. If you think the answer is ‘grace,’ go stand over here. If you think it’s ‘Psalms,’ go stand over here.” Patter of little feet, keep it moving, keep it moving. We went through 20 vocabulary words in five minutes. Was it the most in-depth, profound review experience of their young lives? No. Did thy pay attention? Did we salvage those last 10 minutes of class? Yes.
So – how about you? Do you like subbing? Fear subbing? Got any good tips?
I thought it was quaint that the New York Times ran a 1971 column from Dick Cavett on their Opinion Pages recently. My first clue was the dusty reference to the rhythm method and “Vatican roulette.” I bet that killed them, back in the day! The great thing is that now we have Internet access and can use esoteric tools like Wikipedia to find out what Natural Family Planning is and is not. We sure have progressed since those hazy days of misinformation and lazy stereotypes of Catholics! Ha! Ha!
Cavett also bravely takes on the newfangled practice of home schooling. He knows what’s what, because his parents were teachers and had to deal with students’ parents who were D-U-M dumb.
My parents were teachers and the thought of home-schooling sent them rolling before they were in their graves. Especially when parents, complaining of their kids’ schooling, wrote in report card responses things like “I am loathe to critacize…”; “my childs consantration”; “normalicy”; “my daughter’s abillaties”; “her examatian grades”; “she should of done better”; “greater supervizion,” etc., into the night.
What’s really needed are the proper qualifications. These parents must be closely monitored!
I think of the mournful home-school kid watching his friends board the school bus, laughing, gossiping and enjoying all that vital socialization we call schooldays.
Besides, aren’t you arguably a better person for having gone to school rather than having it funneled into you by dreary old Ma or Pa in their faded bathrobes at home?
I will have you know, sir, that my bathrobe is both brightly-colored and functional, with plenty of pockets. It complements my tinfoil hat.
Really, I was shocked to learn that people are still this obtuse about home schooling. I know it’s fun to pick on rednecks and that Rick Santorum is a lightning rod for every possible Boogedy Man of conservatism, Catholicism, and sweater vests, but COME ON.

You’re going to argue that home educators are a bunch of dummies? This is why I wear my Phi Beta Kappa key on my handmade silk Japanese schoolmistress robe.*
Look. We are not the poster children for homeschooling. We careen wildly from unschooling to super-serious-structured schooling; we don’t grind our own millet; we have never mummified a chicken. I’m not even sure we’re in it for the long haul. But what originally got me thinking about this choice was my belief in the primacy of parents as the first educators of their own children.
I spent 10 years as a teacher. I chose to homeschool after seeing that parents make even more difference in their kids’ education than teachers do. Parents who are intellectually curious – and who pass that along – have children who will, by and large, enjoy more success than children from other home environments, regardless of the schooling situation.
There are sacrifices we’re making, and I do worry about socialization at times, but there are also tremendous benefits. We check out upwards of 30 books a week from the library and the kids tear through them like they’re Calvin and Hobbes books (which, every once in a while, they are.). We can go on a field trip and not be herded through a museum exhibit with 50 other kids who are also supposed to be contemplating the difference between an amethyst and a garnet. We have flexibility with our time and our imaginations. You can call us quirky, but please don’t call us dumb.
Uh…that was not a quick take. Pardon me.
Take #2: The Kindle Meme! Originally started by The Curt Jester, I happened upon this at Happy Catholic Bookshelf:
So, here are the rules. You post the rules and a link back to the person who tagged you. You also tell them that they’ve been tagged on their own blog, rather than just hoping they’ll discover it for themselves. Then you decide what three books are essential reading for anyone with a Kindle. Reasons would be good, but not essential. Then you tag five people.
I got a Kindle Fire for Christmas, and I LOVE it. I haven’t acquired *that* many books yet, but here are three things I’ve enjoyed:
If you have a Kindle, or have ever used kindling, I hereby tag you!
A few weeks ago, I backed into my husband’s car while still in the driveway. A lifelong fear has been realized. Fortunately, the damage wasn’t sufficient to require an insurance claim, because I really wasn’t looking forward to that phone call to the insurance agency. Now, my kids are constantly providing helpful input on my driving. This is my penance.
Via Why I Am Catholic, I think this movie about the rebirth of Nagasaki after the atomic bomb looks like it could be quite good:
You can help fund the production of All That Remains at Indiegogo. I really hope this film gets made. The production blog has stills from the film and beautiful photographs of Japan.
A few weeks ago, I made a batch of homemade playdough – I think I used this recipe from The Imagination Tree. I added a bit of lavender oil to the mix and it really improved upon the “play-dough experience,” which for me is normally quite traumatic. The kids sat for hours creating structures, animals, ROCKET I NEED A ROCKET SHIP PLEASE BUILD A ROCKET.

I actually enjoyed sitting with them, which was partly due to the fact that we weren’t on a carpeted surface, partly due to the aromatherapy, and partly due to them being pretty good kids, on balance. Plus, the dough has somehow remained non-moldy and soft in the refrigerator, which was a nice surprise. I can’t exaggerate my hostility towards normal Play-doh(TM) and so this really is somewhat miraculous.
What do you call this bug?

I’ve been calling it a “mayfly,” but apparently it’s a crane fly. GeekLady calls it a “mosquito hawk,” but whatever it is: they are EVERYWHERE. I have to caution the children to immediately close the doors upon entering the minivan, lest it become filled with not-mayflies. They don’t bite or do anything especially pernicious, and they’re a terrific source of entertainment for the three-year-old, but I shudder to think what this portends for the arrival of mosquito season.
We’ve been having some incredible sunsets recently. I snapped this the other evening after dropping my kids off at one of the Many Enriching Educational Activities in Which We Partake (still smarting about Take #1, yes). This is the old sugar mill in Sugar Land. I look forward to owning a real camera but sometimes my Droid takes pretty good pictures.

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!
*I realize this statement is completely obnoxious. I also wish to credit Matthew Lickona with the masterful addition of “handmade silk Japanese schoolmistress” to the original sentence as part of the unsuccessful campaign to make this A Thing, namely, a letter to the NYT.
It doesn’t take a veteran teacher to recognize that each child – and adult – is unique. And what works with one person won’t necessary work with another; we each have our own talents, and we each find joy in different ways. Being able to tap into these differing abilities can really transform your approach to religious education- whether in a classroom setting, a presentation to a group of adults, or even a homeschooling setup.
My favorite way to think about this is based on Howard Gardner’s theory of Multiple Intelligences. Back in MY day, he’d only identified seven. Now he’s up to eight, but the overall point remains the same: individuals display intelligence in different areas, which can be roughly categorized as follows:
Since my time in the trenches (a.k.a., grad school), he’s added:
In catechesis, we’re about the business of expanding folks’ existential/moral intelligence, or at least tapping into that, right? So I’m going to focus on how the other eight can be useful in coming up with different lessons, etc. that can grab students’ attention in new ways.

This guy has insane amounts of musical intelligence
I’m going to start with Musical, because that’s my favorite. Well, not really, but it would be boring to start with Linguistic or Logical-Mathematical, wouldn’t it? Because that’s what we usually think of when we think of “teaching.” Talk at students, they write things down, they take a multiple-choice test with maybe an essay tacked onto the end, and presto: teaching. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
But before you say “I can’t carry a tune to save my life*,” I ask you: Can you say the Our Father?
You can, can’t you?
Let’s say it together;
Our
Father, Who Art
In Heaven, Hallowed Be Thy
NameThyKINGDOMCome…what? Isn’t that how you say it? No?
Right – we all say it in the same cadences, don’t we? Our liturgy is full of cadences; we chant the Psalms in rhythm, we teach our children their prayers to a certain meter, we’re all about music even if we are afflicted with tin ears.
I find that most kids, especially adolescent boys, respond very well to activities that incorporate music. Take advantage of this by including activities like:
I don’t believe because there are eight intelligences we have to teach things eight ways. I think that’s silly. But we always ought to be asking ourselves, “Are we reaching every child, and, if not, are there other ways in which we can do it?”
And so I’m not saying “out with books, in with Rap!” But supplementing what you discuss in class with an activity that allows musically-inclined…or musically-enthusiastic – students to shine is a great way to get them engaged in what you’re teaching.
If you’d like to learn more about the theory – pros and cons – check out:
*Essay: Can you describe a situation in which your life would literally depend upon your ability to carry a tune? What would you do in said situation?
The Mother of Divine Grace (MODG) program was designed in keeping with the principles of founder Laura Berquist’s Designing Your Own Classical Curriculum. As expressed via their Statement of Purpose:
It is designed in the light of the classical principle that the goal of education is to teach children how to think; to help them learn the art of learning. If children learn how to learn, they will be equipped for life, able to master any subject when it becomes necessary or desirable. Further, the curriculum is faithful to the doctrine and teaching of the Catholic Church, which enlightens and informs all the areas of the curriculum.
For those new to homeschooling, the idea of designing one’s own curriculum – and the seemingly lofty goals of classical education – may be a bit intimidating at first. But the tools offered by Mother of Divine Grace exist to make homeschooling a rich and rewarding experience for the entire family. The tools offered by Mother of Divine Grace exist to make homeschooling a rich and rewarding experience for the entire family, whether you use the syllabus exactly as outlined or adopt a more flexible approach.
The MODG approach allows for less time in formal schooling in the early years so as to allow younger children abundant time to explore on their own through reading, listening to stories, enjoying field trips and neighborhood walks, and pursuing their own interests. This allows for a child’s imagination to be “filled with the heroic, the noble, and the beautiful.” For our family, since the decision to homeschool was originally based on a desire for our children to enjoy and discover their own talents absent the overwhelming structure of traditional schooling, this philosophy has been a perfect fit.
Which isn’t to say that MODG is all about letting the kids play video games all day long and read whatever the latest movie-tie-in books they received in their kids’ meals. This curriculum will help you to focus on quality books and media to share with your children and provide daily, weekly, and yearly plans for how to help your children appreciate them.
The Mother of Divine Grace second grade syllabus includes a tentative weekly schedule that includes daily mathematics and reading, with poetry, religion, and phonics spread throughout the week. Music, Art, Science and History are each accorded one day of the week, although children will of course explore these subjects through supplemental reading.
I particularly like the emphasis on Memory Work through the study of poetry, which fine-tunes children’s memorization skills while giving them a “treasure box” of poems to reflect on through the years.
Grade 3 marks the beginning of the Grammatical Stage in the Mother of Divine Grace curriculum, which focuses on learning a body of knowledge, often via memorization and repetition, to serve as a foundation for the later acquisition of abstract reasoning skills. Berquist and other classical educators believe that children at this age level and stage are well-suited to acquiring a vast collection of facts about various subjects, as evidenced in childhood predilections for collecting baseball cards, learning all about horses, and other fact-filled pursuits enjoyed by children in this stage.
Thus, the Mother of Divine Grace third grade syllabus focuses on skills like the memorization of basic mathematical facts, geographical knowlege, Latin vocabulary, and works of art. This builds upon the memorization skills learned in previous years via the study of poetry, which this year includes the reading and retelling of Bible stories.
This syllabus will provide a well-developed structure for your year of homeschooling, but even if you choose to only incorporate the MODG to certain subjects, it will remain a great resource. The rubrics for evaluating student work, in particular, will help you decide whether your child has remained on track in each of the subjects studied.
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Father Time has been following me everywhere lately. Tapping me on the shoulder, giving me that pointed glance that says, “your days are numbered,” asking me if I even remember what I had for dinner two days ago or if I’m paying no attention whatsoever.
I do a lot of mental calculating – how old am I now? (Yes. I have to remind myself.) How old was I when I had my first child? If I had another baby one year from today, how old would each of my children be? How old would I be when that child turns 18? Which children would be in college at the same time? Why did 40 feel ancient when I was a little kid but now it feels like just down the road? Wait. What year did you graduate? Was I a senior when you were a freshman? Where are my car keys?
My 3-year-old doesn’t have these problems. He plays “tornado,” he helps himself to Cheerios from the pantry, he builds Lego rockets. He’s a one-man argument for being present in the moment. The latest amazing amazement in his life is the incursion of ducks into our neighbor’s yard. What could be more worthy of our attention?

What, indeed?
That way lies madness for the average parent, says Glennon Melton of Momastery. “Don’t Carpe Diem,” she writes:
There are two different types of time. Chronos time is what we live in. It’s regular time, it’s one minute at a time, it’s staring down the clock till bedtime time, it’s ten excruciating minutes in the Target line time, it’s four screaming minutes in time out time, it’s two hours till daddy gets home time. Chronos is the hard, slow passing time we parents often live in.
Then there’s Kairos time. Kairos is God’s time. It’s time outside of time. It’s metaphysical time. Kairos is those magical moments in which time stands still. I have a few of those moments each day, and I cherish them.
Gosh, I loved that post – what a terrific distinction. I think I’d add a third category called “smhzmsh time,” and its characteristic sound would be the static the baby monitor makes when you turn off the transmitter and leave the receiver on. Smhzmshzzshmshshzzmsh…wow. What just happened?
Smhzmsh time = INTERNETZ, particularly when scrolled upon a mobile device. Also: glazed look while ostensibly listening to the answer to “how was your day?”; gears of vengeance grinding as you contemplate possible responses to the snide remark in your direction 7.23 hours ago; flipping through the channels.
It doesn’t even count towards chronos – it’s just there, eating away at your day. Well, at my day. I don’t know your life.
I’m sure that Espen Hammer had this concept and made-up word in mind when he wrote:
The modern time frame brings about two fundamental forms of dissatisfaction. For one thing, it exacerbates and intensifies our sense of transience. If time is understood as a succession of discrete moments, then, strictly speaking, our experience will be one of perpetual loss: every instant, every unit of time, is a mere passing from that which has not yet been to that which will never again be, and the passing itself will not endure but simply be a boundary between future and present.
(Short version: Clocks = Bad. Chickens = Good. Also: Schopenhauer.) The whole article is quite interesting -
Experiences like this, which explode the empty repetition of standard clock time, offer glimpses of a different and deeply intriguing type of temporality that has the power to invest our lives with greater meaning, possibility and excitement than a life merely measured on a grid could ever provide.
And then there’s Binx Bolling in The Moviegoer, explaining the role of Repetition in The Search:
A repetition is the re-enactment of past experience toward the end of isolating the time segment which has lapsed in order that it, the lapsed time, can be savored of itself and without the usual adulteration of events that clog time like peanuts in brittle.
I actually was reminded of this not because of some deep philosophical reflection but because the aforementioned 3-year-old just crawled into my lap and said “Can you fix this ladder?” and I remembered having to perform the exact same operation for his brother and for his sister years ago. A successful repetition!
So. There’s this whole Blogging Person Tradition of choosing a word for the year, which usually stresses me out because what if I don’t pick the right word? What if I forget my Special Word? What if I waste an entire year on the wrong word? WHAT THEN, AMERICA?
But this time around, my word is Kairos.

I’m using it mainly to mean “hey, pay attention. This is worth it.” Multitasking is just the way we all roll, but I can control the volume level on the smhzmsh to a certain extent.
I had a pretty amazing conversation with my daughter this afternoon about The Count of Monte Cristo and I noticed how long her hair is getting, the little lisp that arrived when her two front teeth popped out last week, how grown-up her speech patterns have become since she really started reading.
“MO-OM. Why did you start crying?”
Well. That’s what happens with this stupid crummy Kairos approach. You think about how she used to be small and pink with tubes coming out of her in the NICU and how now she’s got pierced ears and can do her own ponytail and it just…well, it provokes strong emotions.
I guess that’s okay.
Hey, what’s your word for the year? Do you have one? I have some you can borrow, if you want.
The “big kids” have discovered a secret weapon for postponing the start of our day. Truly devious. Code name: Sleepy Slug.
Yes, once Sleepy Slug has snuggled up next to you, you are utterly defenseless against the impulse to snooze. Meanwhile, downstairs, math workbooks are set aside and too many Cheerios are poured into bowls. But woe to those who attempt to play Wii Lego Rock Band. Even the warm snoozyness of Sleepy Slug is insufficient to counter the effects of Fake Drum Banging.
I want to go back into the classroom just so I can use this Gandalf self-inking stamp. (h/t Joyce Donahue)
I loved this post from Misty’s Mornings on How to Create Art in Five Minutes. I am the lousiest adherent of the Church of Flylady, but the one takeaway that sorta “took” is that you can do quite a lot more than you think in a very small amount of time. It doesn’t have to be perfect.
I even went so far as to purchase supplies for doing a bit of watercolor work in the mornings! Imagine the possibilities! I bought supplies! Because everyone knows that the thing holding me back from infinite creativity is the lack of supplies. Like, that First Communion dress I’m going to maybe make from my wedding dress. Can’t get started yet; might not have all of the supplies. Or, say, scrapbooking. I might not have the perfect combination of paper, adhesive, and rubber stamps. Wouldn’t want to rush things.
Anyway, but if I do ever manage to greet the dawn with brush set to paper, you can be assured I will blog the heck out of my accomplishment. It all seems fraught with Kairos potential.
The Houston Catholic Blogger Meet-up was awesome and amazing, since I did meet up with a Houston Catholic Blogger: Rebecca of GeekLady. We had a terrific visit and I survived the drive into metro Houston, something that still terrifies me every time. I think it’s because I grew up thinking of Atlanta as the huge, frightening city, and I still feel like “If I make one wrong turn, I’ll never find my way out of here” when navigating other big cities.
Er, anyway – but we had a great time, and she tolerated my continuing to tell random stories after we’d already resolved it was time to go home. I particularly enjoyed hearing about her baking adventures; she may even have inspired me to attempt homemade tortillas. YES. She’s that impressive.
I’m thinking about writing a book. Yes! What are the odds? Someone on the Internet…wants to write a book!
Anyway, I am still refining the theme, but I decided to pop over to my alma mater last weekend while we were visiting family in San Antonio and I could actually go to a library unaccompanied and do some research. I adore libraries. Love them.
“I’m a visitor,” I explained at the desk. “Well, I mean, I used to go here. I’m an alumna.” They stared patiently at me, wondering if email had been invented when I was on campus. (Answer: yes. I had a UNIX account.) “Anyway, so, do I need to provide ID or something? The sign says provide ID. Also, how do I make copies?”
Apparently, the sign was wrong, or else I’m so obviously nonthreatening that they declined my offer to provide ID.
I then returned thrice more, asking for more help with how to work the copy card machine. Not the copier – I am an ace at copiers, having been a teacher. The machine where you load up the card so that you can pay for the copies, so hope you brought some crisp dollar bills with you to load up the card. I finally decided to surreptitiously snap a photo of any pages I wanted to refer to later. (Don’t worry: I didn’t actually do that. It would be…against the law? Maybe?)
It depressed me that the youths didn’t fall for my schtick, my wacky super-friendly-polite banter. It was like…they couldn’t understand how someone who had matriculated at the same institution could be this inept at simple copy-card-loading. Either that, or they needed to study.
Humbling.
My husband and I are running a reverse Gift-of-the-Magi this year with our Lenten sacrifices.
Initially, he was going to give up all discretionary carbohydrates, and I was going to give up television. “Discretionary carbohydrates” meaning – we’re not going to freak out about breading on chicken, etc. – just side dishes. But it quickly became apparent that my not watching television meant that our habit of watching shows together would be a no-go during Lent, and I’d have to invent a whole new way to cook.
He quickly assured me I didn’t need to worry about accommodating him in planning meals, and I decided to still watch the shows that he and I watch together, but to not watch any additional TV. I’ve gotten into a bad habit of watching various police procedurals, etc., while staying up late working after he’s gone to bed. So now it’s down to “Castle,” um, “Revenge,” “Fringe”…you know what? Never mind. We watch some silly stuff. (Hey, are you watching “Smash?” It’s better than you thought it would be, right?)
My two older kids are going to do the Houston Kids Triathlon. So, that’s pretty different from my own lifestyle. I am thinking about registering for a 5K and just walking said event. That, I could do. Baby steps.
Thanks to our hostess, Jennifer of Conversion Diary!
My grandmother was from New Orleans, which means that every five years or so I decide to act like I’m from New Orleans, too.
Now, The Catholic Foodie may not sign off on boxed beignet mix, but sometimes we have to make do.
I don’t have an electric fryer, nor do I really want one, because – seriously, we don’t need more fried foods around here. Plus, I really like my cast iron skillet.
They didn’t exactly puff up like they’re supposed to. They seemed kind of won-ton-esque.
The kids came home from church – “What are THOSE?” I explained the tenuous ties to our heritage. “Does this mean I’m FRENCH? COOL!!!!” She was also quite enthusiastic about the powdered sugar stage of production.
Yum.
He’s plotting. Later, he shall sneak into the dining room and help himself to a second breakfast.
Please check out the all-new SnoringScholar.com! Sarah Reinhard has been a joy to work with, first on her parish website and now on her personal blog. We wanted something with a “homey” feel without it being too Cutesy Country Living (technical term). Working from a photo of Sarah’s kitchen window and her statue of the Blessed Mother, we came up with a theme that I think really suits her warm, conversational style.
This site was my first go-round with responsive design, a fancy term that means “magically reshaping itself to fit the screens of various mobile devices.” It’s based on the eleven40 theme from StudioPress, customized for a more personal style. If you’re reading this on a mobile device, can you let me know how her site looks and if there are any bugs I still need to fix?
I shall conclude this Blatant Commercial Self-Promotion Capitalist Fink Talk with a reminder: I’d love to be your Website Gal. Add me to your entourage! Refer me to your friends and/or frenemies! Check out my portfolio and stay tuned for an Exciting Special Promotion soon.
Welcome! I'm Dorian Speed.
I'm a Southern Catholic teachermom,
now homeschooling in Texas.
Here you can read about teaching, family, teaching one's own family, and culture - high and low. I promise to never intimidate you with immaculate housekeeping, to make you feel better about your own organizational skills, and to support your decision to replace the carpet with hard flooring.
Thanks for stopping by!
Thanks to an army – no, really, an army – of helpers, the big party for my daughter’s First Communion was generally a success. I still ended up pulling an all-nighter to finish the dress, clear off the dining room table, smear green icing over some cupcakes after the hydrangea-decorated cupcake thing from Pinterest turned [...]
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