Love Begins with a Dream

"Written on the heart of every person, begins Archbishop Sheen, is the image of the Love of their life. This is how we can claim to experience "love at first sight"; we have known that special someone all our life, in the form of that image inscribed within us. God, too, has within Himself blueprints of everything in the universe, and so there is an archetypal idea of every living thing on the planet.

"There is actually only one person in all humanity of whom God has only one picture, and in whom there is a perfect conformity between what He wanted her to be and what she is, and that is His own Mother. She existed in the Divine Mind as an Eternal Thought before there were any mothers. She is the world’s first love. Indeed, the very first announcement of the "good news" in salvation history, made immediately after the fall of Adam and Eve, mentions the Mother: "I will establish a feud between thee and the woman, between thy offspring and hers; she is to crush thy head, while thou dost lie in wait at her heels." (Gen.3:15)

"God specially chose her for this mission, and made it clear that just as a woman was the cause of the fall, so a woman would be the ‘cause’ of redemption. This woman, His Mother, was not like ours, whom we accepted as something historically fixed, which we could not change; He was born of a Mother whom he chose before He was born."

Carnivorous

I am dat, sho'. I mean, I run around like a maniac sometimes, craving very large servings of properly cooked meats. Good thing I don't have easy access to anyone's 4-H project, or I might start snacking on it.

So, Christmas is coming, eh? I'm ready. Bring it on.

It looked even worse in person.

Hmm. Such a sad and lonley little blog. Somehow, with life going on in the background, I'm finding less and less time to write. However, this doesn't mean I have ceased to think odd things, do stupid things, or ask dumb questions. Here are three examples, or proofs, for the existence of me:

1. I ate spice cake for lunch. Basta. Then I had skittles for dessert.

2. I yelled "touchdown!" at my brother's basketball game tuesday night. This was, admittedly, largely done on purpose and for effect, but the resulting looks told me that the humor of my faux intelligence was lost on the crowd. Sitting in an unheated gym does that to people.

3. I wondered to myself whether Huxley intended to bash, or to resign himself to, the 'social system' which built itself on abortion, cloning, genetic engineering, and widespread promiscuity. Until, that is, I remembered that he wrote the dang book about half a century before half of those things were widespread, and before some of them were even thought of as possible.

Yes, sports fans, I'm going out of my mind. Which reminds me of another direction to which I can ramble. Basketball! I have been to more basketball games in the last two weeks than in the entire rest of my life. Last night, in fact, I was feeling comfortable enough with the game to start yelling my own opinion to the coach, the players, the refs, and the concession lady. Finer points still escape me ( how do you tell what kind of a foul it was, or how many from each time line up at a foul shot?), but on the whole it's a very interesting game. Still high stress, though. It goes so fast!

I can't think of where my next ramble went. I should probably write about my grand adventures in Europe. Tune in next week.

Man Impersonates Cop to....Bowl?

SAVANNAH, Ga. (Dec. 11) - A Savannah man went to jail this weekend for impersonating a sheriff's deputy so he could go bowling. Jeffrey Eugene Ferguson, 46, pulled up to a gate at Hunter Army Airfield on Saturday and showed a guard a driver's license that was cracked in half, police said.

When the guard requested a second form of ID, Ferguson pulled out a Chatham County sheriff's lieutenant badge.

The guard called Savannah-Chatham Metropolitan Police, who responded and discovered Ferguson's license had been suspended for failure to pay child support, according to police Sgt. Mike Wilson. Ferguson, who was jailed on charges of impersonating a police officer, later told authorities he found the badge at a work site. He told them he was not trying to get any special police priviliges - just to get on the military post to go to its bowling alley.

A Rose by any other name...

...would be just as confused. Trust me.

I went by the store to grab a half-gallon of ice cream, right? As Mike and I are checking out, I see the cashier's nametag out of the corner of my eye, and my eye's corner gasps. Chastity? There's an outdated, Puritanical name, I muse.

No wait.

It's Chasity. Never mind. I wonder if maybe, somewhere along the line, someone just couldn't spell.

That thing you do...

Sheesh. There are entirely too many things going on in life right now. You don't want to hear about them, trust me. For starters, my standoffish cat has been traded in for some alien cat--wearing her old body, though--that cuddles and sleeps in laps all the time. It goes downhill after that, believe me.

BAY-bah!!!

Dude. I'm home now, childrens. Gimme, like, two more days to get my brain on, and you'll get posts once more.

Il bene, e il male.

The good news is, my blog still has the most recent update, even though all the groups blogs I am on still have people in the US, who theoretically have time and internet connections which promote blogging.

The bad news is, I still have a week of finals left, then a week in PA, then a week in VA, then a crazybeautiful Christmas break, then being a *@#$! proctor for the entire spring semester. You might not hear from me for a while.

Discovery, delimma, and others.

When one sleeps with one's big toe stuck through the hole in one's sock, the aforementioned toe will be quite asleep by morning. And it will hurt.

I have a problem, y'all. I joined facebook in a moment of extreme weakness. Now, I'm not sure what to do with myself...can I keep a blog running decently, and yet function on facebook?? I mean, facebook is a much more unifying, humble thing to engage in, compared with solo blogging. What do you think?

Only in America...

LIVINGSTON, Mont. (Oct. 25) - A high school principal received a six-day suspension and a letter of reprimand for giving one of his students a wedgie.

Eric Messerli pulled a Park High School senior's soccer jersey over his head and yanked upward on the waistband of the boy's underwear at a soccer game Oct. 5. Other school officials said he was joking around with the student and did it playfully. He was suspended for two days without pay and four days with pay before the school board decided Monday to let him return.

He tearfully told the board: "I've made mistakes in my life, but none have had the impact that this one has had." Messerli, who was back on the job Tuesday, will be required to talk with students and staff members about the incident to restore respect and authority. He said his first reaction was to resign, but he decided to "tackle this mess" head on.

"I want to live in a world where we don't have to hide when we screw up," he said.

Divide and Concord

The man next to me on the metro today had a big bunch of flowers in his hand, a nervous look on his face, and kept dialing the same phone number over and over. No answer. I hope she forgives him.

It appears that we have a mere month left here in Italy. Where does the time go? Sunk into classes, tests, tours, sleep, and train trips, I suppose. Speaking of, I need to get a train ticket. I also need to study for a quiz on a Ratzinger article (yay!! intellectual/theological works that are actually accessible to the average mind), and study for a history/english/theology/classics exam. Whadda class...four subjects in one. Oh, and also an acting class. Monday was "act out a scene from this book that Thomas Bowdler thought racy enough to merit expurgating" day.

We the story of the rape of Semele, but we did it politically-correct style. I didn't think it was that funny, really, but the class sure did. If I feel like embarassing myself to death, I might post the text next week.

Subway Crash in Rome (from Tuesday)

As far as we can tell, Laura and I were actually on this train--we got off the stop before the crash, and switched lines. Later, they changed the news report to say that two people actually died, one at the scene and one later at the hospital. Jesus saves!

ROME — A subway train plowed into another during morning rush hour Tuesday in a central Rome station, killing a woman and injuring about 60 others, authorities said.

One train was stopped in the station when it was hit from behind by another traveling at a high speed, said Atac, Rome's public transport company. Some passengers said the driver of the second train appeared to have run a red light.

The fire department initially said a woman and the driver of one of the trains were killed, but government officials later said only the woman died. The driver, a man, was pulled out alive from the rubble, officials said. Italian news reports had said the woman was Nigerian, but the officials later said she was an Italian in her 30s.

About 60 people were injured, including 10 seriously, said another fire department spokesman, Luca Cari. He said the moving train plowed 6-to-10 feet into the carriage of the stopped one.
Television footage showed stunned and bloodied passengers being led out of the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II station, while onlookers watched from behind police lines.

Ambulances, firefighters and rescue teams rushed to the subway station, near Rome's main railway station, following the 9 a.m. crash. Rescue workers set up a field hospital nearby, where they treated dozens with light injuries.

Firefighters were trying to free at least one more person trapped in the wreckage, Cari said.

"For now, we don't know about any more people trapped, but we can't rule it out," Cari said. "We are untangling the two trains."

Andrew Trovaioli, a 38-year-old passenger, said one of the trains appeared to have missed a stop light.

"I saw the red light as the train moved into the station," Trovaioli said, who suffered a slight injury to his elbow.

"I saw lots of blood, the impact was brutal," he said, adding he saw about 10 people lying on the ground, and three or four covered in rubble.

"There was panic for some 30 seconds. We were not told how to get out," he said.

One passenger told Sky Italia that lights went out immediately after the crash. Another passenger in the first carriage of the moving train said he could see through the driver's front window as the accident unfolded.

"I saw clearly the red light. I saw the situation, that the metro ahead of us was stopped at the station," said the unidentified passenger, adding that he managed to escape serious injury because he stepped back just seconds before the impact crushed the front of his car.

The cause of the accident was not known. Atac said the station remained closed but the rest of the line was working.

Wow.

You guys are so patient. Here a new blog has not been forthcoming in weeks, yet you check back.

Since we last spoke, I have seen Assissi, Siena, Florence, Naples, Pompeii, Pisa, Roccasecca, and the island of Ischia. Things are great, but so ruddy hectic I barely find time to do homework and email my family. My friends all think I have fallen off the face of the earth. There are no apostrophes on Italian keyboards. I have been awake for 14 hours and have eaten nothing but two apples, half a bag of potato chips, and some Reeses Pieces.

I need food.

Strike!

So the metro train operators (but not the buses) decided to strike from 8am until 5pm today. So Lola and I walked approximately 3 miles today, counting all the wandering around we did in the zoo. Who knew that animals could be so universally entertaining? I think the Australian family following us around was the best part.

Dolce far niente!!

It still hasn’t quite filtered through my brain that I am actually in Rome, doing things like walking to the Piazza Navona for fun, or saying things like, “Well, guys, I’m just going to go bum around St. Peter’s until you finish at the bank. Find me there.” It hasn’t filtered. Part of the problem is that I’m around a bunch of friends who seem to create their own environment wherever they go, thus rendering whatever is outside a little superfluous. Another part of the problem is that I still have the remanants of jet lag, or something. Maybe the sleeping less than five hours a night is causing that. Then again, maybe it’s just me. The first time I went out alone (I walked to St. Peter’s for Mass), I was asked for directions by a cute little Spanish woman.

There are a billion little tiny Italian culture quirks you notice all the time. Their elevators have buttons inside that change according to which floor you are on, and not according to which floor you want to reach. They have little, single-pump gas stations on the side of the road as if it were a phone booth or a fire hydrant. The ambulances have the most annoying, teeth-grating sirens on earth. The motorini (little Vespa motorscooters) really don’t stop at lights.

But all that is just part of the cultural experience, you know? Like a ‘mezzo-euro’ store, which is somewhat
equivalent to our dollar stores. Whatever. It’s just keeping us all so busy, touring and having class and learning Italian, that all I can do is link you to our blog with pictures, and hope that satisfies!

Johnny Cash

(subtitled "What would have been an essay / If I'd cared a little more")

Hmm. This blog is getting dead, with little prospect at living again anytime soon, as I'm leaving in only two days. Hurrah! Excited I am, but nervous as well, to answer the question everyone has been asking me for the last week and a half. I'm excited.

So, I went and did it. I listened to some Johnny Cash. I did so deliberately, listening to the whole song and not just the first two lines. I tapped my foot with the beat. I liked it. Gasp.

Let me tell you why, though. It is because a great deal of Cash's music ( not all--no blanket statement being made here) represents what I really treasure about American country-genre music, and that is its grounding in the tradition of folk music which is being lost rapidly in the face of pop music today. Folk music tells a story, it's a ballad of one denomination or another, and I really love it. I like some current "country" hits because they, too, tell a story. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's sad.

Often, it's patriotic, which you don't find anywhere else in the music world anymore. Gone are the days of "God Bless America" and "Yankee Doodle Dandy." Gone are the days when anyone on the street could sing you the Marines' hymn, or Anchors Aweigh. Only in the select class of music now known as country will you find songs about America, Americans, and pride in being one.

So, country music is the last great stand of folk music. Music that tells a story, music that is proud of and lauds its heritage--instead of tearing it down and rebelling against it like popular and rock music does so often. And hence, as a classic (though maybe not the classiest) example of that folk-country offering, I give you Johnny Cash.

And I cannot for the life of me believe that I just wrote that.

Situational Awareness

This is a long article, but I want you to read it. It's an issue dear to my heart, and the helpless rage I feel when the 'other side' has their say is unspeakable. However, this is what the mainstream news is putting out there for public consumption. What am I, who stand on a street corner on Saturday afternoons and speak with women, trying to talk them out of having an abortion? I'm a 'predatory fanatic.' Who are those that run the 'clinic' where those little hearts are systematically stopped as a mater of routine? A nationally recognized, heavily funded, organized group of individuals who offer 'social policies to benefit minority women and children'. Dear God, what kind of world do we live in?

By DAVID CRARY, AP National Writer Sun Aug 20, 12:30 PM ET

WASHINGTON - On a street once known as Murder Row, a teen center founded to steer youths away from drugs and crime has become an outpost in another crusade — a nationwide push by anti-abortion activists to expand their foothold in heavily black and Hispanic inner cities.

The campaign involves crisis pregnancy centers, whose counselors seek to dissuade women with unplanned pregnancies from having abortions. There are more than 2,300 centers across America, yet relatively few in inner cities where abortion rates are typically highest.

Now the two largest networks — Care Net and Heartbeat International — have launched initiatives to change that equation. Their sometimes awkward efforts rely on unlikely alliances, as an anti-abortion movement led mostly by conservative, white Republicans interacts with overwhelmingly Democratic, black communities.

"This crusade has been very difficult — having to educate community leaders as to what's really going on without being offensive, without having a political agenda," said Lillie Epps, the only black member of Care Net's senior staff and director of its Urban Initiative.

In Washington, the key players say all has gone smoothly in a year-old partnership between a Care Net affiliate, the Capitol Hill Crisis Pregnancy Center, and a teen center in the tough Anacostia neighborhood called The House DC. During the school year, Capitol Hill volunteers come to The House to counsel girls from nearby Anacostia High School who get caught in the tide of teen pregnancies.

One reason for the harmony: The teen center's black leaders and the whites running the pregnancy center share an evangelical Christian faith.

Steve Fitzhugh, co-founder of The House, is a former pro football player active with the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. He's mentored boys later killed in gang shootings, and girls as young as 12 who carried pregnancies to term.

"I don't care if it's conservative dollars or liberal dollars we get," Fitzhugh said. "We've got to save these kids."

His program is in sync with the nationwide pregnancy-center movement not only in opposing abortion but also in advocating sexual abstinence outside marriage and refusing to promote birth control.

"Others say, 'Let's pass out the condoms.' We're not on that page, and that's not always a popular stance," Fitzhugh said.

About two miles from The House, in a racially mixed neighborhood, the Capitol Hill pregnancy center is in its 21st year of operation. Its six-member board, executive director and most of its volunteers are white, but 89 percent of its clients are black.

Yet the director, Janet Durig, said she and her white colleagues don't feel like outsiders. She evoked the image of a pregnant black teen, abandoned by her boyfriend, coming in for counseling.

"When she breaks down and cries, do you think she cares if I'm white?" Durig asked.
Critics contend that pregnancy centers routinely mislead women seeking neutral advice on their options. A report in July from congressional Democrats said center counselors often overstate the medical risks posed by abortion.

Skeptics also argue that the same white conservatives supporting urban anti-abortion initiatives oppose other social policies that might help minority single mothers and their children.

"These predatory fanatics don't lift a finger to help the children who are born unwanted and unplanned," said Jatrice Martel Gaiter, head of the Washington-area Planned Parenthood chapter.

"In these centers of deception, they leave young parents at best with a box of Pampers and a prayer," she said. "They leave people even more vulnerable than when they walked through the door, without any information about how to avoid a future unintended pregnancy."

Durig acknowledged that her center recommends abstinence, not birth control, to clients, but said its services go beyond opposing abortion. The center offers parenting classes; a basement storage room is stacked with bins of donated baby clothes.

Capitol Hill also is among hundreds of pregnancy centers that recently acquired ultrasound equipment, on the premise that a look inside the womb will deter many pregnant women from abortion.

A sign on the center's brick facade reads "Pregnant and Scared?" — the slogan Care Net has placed on 40,000 billboard and bus-shelter ads nationwide, promoting a hotline it runs with Heartbeat International on behalf of their 1,900 affiliated centers.

Most of the centers are rural or suburban. The quest to open more in inner cities is fueled by statistics showing that nearly 90 percent of women who get abortions live in urban areas, and the majority are poor.

According to the Alan Guttmacher Institute, which compiles abortion data, black women are almost four times as likely as white women to have an abortion, and Hispanic women are 2.5 times as likely.

Care Net says it has opened 13 urban centers since 2003, with 15 more under development in Atlanta, Chicago, Detroit and elsewhere.

In central Houston, there had been no full-fledged pregnancy center until one opened in 2004 in a poor, minority neighborhood. While many of the Fifth Ward Pregnancy Help Center's financial backers and volunteers are from white areas, its executive director, Sylvia Johnson, is black.

"This is hard territory," she said. "We try to be nonpartisan, to let our service speak for itself. We can't fix all the problems."

Among the clients was 28-year-old Karry Ann Morris. Already a single mother with a 3-year-old son, she got pregnant again last year. She ended up at the Fifth Ward center along with the boyfriend, who was suggesting abortion.

Morris, a hairstylist, didn't know what to expect. But she became determined to keep the baby — now a 4-month-old girl named Mikaila — when shown ultrasound images at the center.
"As much as I didn't want to be pregnant, when I saw her heart beating at six weeks, I knew," Morris said.

Heartbeat International's current project is to open three to five centers in black and Hispanic neighborhoods of greater Miami, then apply that model to other cities.

The Rev. John Ensor, the project's white executive director, said Miami was chosen partly because it had far more abortion clinics than pregnancy centers. He has spoken to some Miami-area churches, and is cautiously encouraged.

"We're just learning how to communicate," Ensor said. "There's the African-American culture and subcultures you have to figure out. The same with Latinos — Cuban, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans. All these wonderful complexities that you find in an urban community."
He acknowledged a gap between Democratic-leaning minorities and conservative, white anti-abortion activists.

"There's no doubt it's a problem for African-Americans to join a movement they perceive is antithetical to their interests in other areas," said Ensor, who nonetheless believes that, with patience and hard work, he can recruit local minority leadership.

Though relatively few blacks play prominent roles in the anti-abortion movement, national polls indicate that qualms about abortion are as widespread among blacks as among whites.
One outspoken black leader is the Rev. Clenard H. Childress Jr. of Montclair, N.J., who depicts the high abortion rate among blacks as a form of genocide. He applauds the inner-city goals of groups like Care Net, but questions whether they have the savvy to avoid looking like carpetbaggers.

"Without a strong relationship with the local pastors, their efforts in the urban community will be in vain," he said. "It won't be effective if you don't resonate with the community as someone they can trust."

In inner-city Dallas, one black pastor, the Rev. Tony Evans, acted on his own to open a pregnancy center in his church, the Oak Cliff Bible Fellowship. He said it differs from the standard center by offering comprehensive prenatal and postnatal services for mothers, including help finding jobs.

Care Net's Lillie Epps agrees on the importance of courting black pastors. Some share opposition to abortion but don't speak out for fear of offending their Democratic-leaning congregations, she said.

Another key, she said, is recruiting local volunteers so the counseling staff isn't overwhelmingly white. "We want people to come in and see someone who looks like them," Epps said. "We can't charge into a community and say, 'We're your savior.'"

Nvts

That's what this place is. Nvts. Every single hvman on campvs is ovt of their mind. Wow. It's hard to replace those 'u' letters with 'v' letters. Try it.

So, I've seen 'most everyone and their brother (literally), and now all that remains is to sing pretty tomorrow morning. I'm plumb tuckered out. Sigh.

Inventory

Hmm. Ol’ CC hasn’t changed her face much since I was last here, except for Blessed Margaret’s having brick all over the outside instead of siding. I liked the old way better, to tell you the truth. I’m here in Front Royal, pushing books around like in the good old days (I moved 1,000 books yesterday—my first day), and waiting for the weekend to roll around. At that point I will emerge from my undisclosed off-campus location and see everyone, then proceed to hole back up until it’s time to head for Rome. Jenne will get a special audience, because she’s special. Everyone else, you’d better keep your eyes peeled on Saturday.

I didn't do my homework because...

* I didn't want the other kids in the class to look bad.

* Our furnace broke and we had to burn my homework to keep ourselves from freezing.

* I'm not at liberty to say why.

*It was destroyed in a freak accident involving a hippo, a toaster, and a bag of frozen peas. You don't want to know the details.

* I have a solar-powered calculator, and it was cloudy. [my favorite!]

* My mom used it as a dryer sheet.

* I felt it wasn't challenging enough.

* My parents were sick and unable to do my homework last night. Don't worry, they have been suitably punished.

* I didn't want to add to your already heavy workload.

* I spent the night at a rally supporting higher pay for our hard-working teachers.

I never thought it would happen to me.

But it has. I have a confirmed lurker, that I actually identified and have seen more than once, and who stayed for more than the average 32 seconds on my blog. Who was looking for information about Chorus. And got me instead. It's the case of The Berkeley Lurker! Hmm. I wonder what kind of nutrition a Berkeley needs, and what it is doing in the Office of the President.

In other news, somebody without a sense of humor chose to try and carry out a terrorist plot involving airplanes, Britain, and the US. So, my flying on Saturday is going to get complicated. I just hope to goodness that the "no hand baggage" rule doesn't come into play here like it has in England. That would involve us all in irretrievable ruin. (No, it wouldn't. The quote just fit nicely there. I would only cause minor inconvenience and some whining.)

Two days until the start of the next week and a half.

Last time, I promise

I have now redone my sidebar for the last time...at least until Christmas, which is when I'll next have enough minutes to devote to an exhastive cross-referencing and link-following expedition. I think all the Blog Links work now. I think they are all linking to current, working blogs. I'm probably a little a-r about doing this, but I have this dreamish thing about having the most links from my blog. I'll never get there, but it's fun to try. It think it's because I'm short.

This is my last update of this nature, because in just four days I start stage one of my fall semester, most of which will be spent studying (boo!) in Italy (yay!). I hope to take a little bit of time to blog, but can't promise anything. Since I would hate to fall short on that hope totally, and have my faithful viewers (of which I think there are two on this Earth) checking in vain for updates, I devised a sidebar solution. I linked to every interesting and happy, good-contented (shut up) blog I could find. When there is nothing new from me, I demand that you go and check out one of these blogs. They are all very good. I personally know about 86% of those that write these blogs. The few others, well...I had them on good authority. (-;

So. Just in case I don't come back for a couple months, there's plenty left for you to do. Viva Christo Rey!

p.s. I took that picture. I'm so good. You may kiss my shoe.

Introducing!!!

And on tonight's show, our special guest is Whimsey, of fame in far-off lands. Visit her site, and enjoy! Extra points if you know the meaning of 'courant'. It ain't a spice...

(This blog gets the "Best New Enthusiastic Blog" award.)

'Twas the night before Tomorrow

When I related the following dream to a friend, his comment was, "Now, that’s the kind of thing only a Christendom student’s unconscious mind could come up with." And he’s probably right. It has a uniquely Christendom flavor that you just can’t get anywhere else.

It was discovered (in my dream) that Dr. Poterack has a dream, and that dream was to reform the flim industry. According to Dr. P, the way music and sound were done in the movies was immoral, because the music was inserted after the fact, and the sounds effects weren’t always ‘true’. "For example, the footsteps in a movie might actually have been made by a foley artist’s hands patting a plastic mat!" he preached, from the gazebo in downtown Front Royal. "These departures from the reality of life are contrary to the Message of Truth, and hence must be struck down!"

So, to start this reform movement, he bought the theater in Front Royal and took out all the sound equipment, except that which produced the spoken dialog for the flim. In my dream world, that was an altogether different device, and the concept of dubbing voices did not seem to be contrary to Truth. In place of all that equipment, Dr. Poterack placed a synthesizer, a violin, and a table full of noisemaking objects, all at the back of the theater where the projection booth should be. He hired a group of Christendom students to man this equipment, and proceeded to proclaim Front Royal a better place.

Somehow, I was in charge of this project, along with Sam Phillips. It had something to do with being a choir member. I was aghast at what he was trying to do, and in vain I pointed out to anyone who would listen that this sort of venture was deranged, at least in the way we were going about it. "Think of how many hours it will take," I told Sam, "or explain to me how we will know which sounds to make, if we haven’t seen the film in advance to know what is coming next." Sam looks at me long and solemnly, somewhat like a beagle, and says quite slowly with a finger aside his nose, "Jediiiiii re-flex-es!"

So I start crusading around campus, trying to rally people to my cause, meanwhile ducking behind corners to escape Dr. Poterack’s notice, because if he catched me I’ll be subject to the inquisition. Everyone seemed to be rather disturbingly against me, though. All of the school was going, "Well, what’s the problem? I mean, anything good takes a little work to get, doesn’t it?"

I woke up very tired, and a little sick to my stomach. What bothered me most, though, was how I could almost believe that this kind of thing might actually happen at Christendom. Shudder.

See how well you know me!!!

Hey. Check out the cool time-waster I made (thanks to Donna's inspiration). Have fun. Prizes to the top scorer.

Antidisestablishmentarianism

I don't think I spelled that correctly. Oh well.

This is the age of dead blogs and much nonsense. I've been packing, slowly, and remembering assorted items that need to be purchased before I head out of here. Now I'm down to one week left, and somehow blogging slipped to the bottom of my priority list in the last several weeks. Maybe it's all the handwritten letters I've been writing.

I miss Donna muchly today. Hmm. I hope her play goes perfectly. (-:

Blog of the Month

Okay, I'll admit. I linked to this blog without really spending time reading it. Until now. I've read it.

You might have to be a Christendomite to get all the jokes, but Dittert's blog is officially the funniest, most entertaining, clever humor on the CC blog list so far. It's great. Enjoy!!

Chorus: The Movie

Go here to see information on a great new independent film being released in August...starring some close friends.

Admin stuffs...

I just did like a major retread job on the sidebar, folks. I had no idea just how many Christendom blogs there were. Wowie. And I didn't get everyone on there, either. I got tired of messing with the template before I was done.

Hit-and-run Evangelization

Today's discoveries:

1. Zuchinni, when sliced in large quantities and subsequently handled by the same ten fingers for a period of longer than fifteen minutes, creates the same skin-surface effect as superglue.

2. Protestant Churches in town, with enough money, have begun engaging in a sort of evangelization during which church members approach the door of a house, slip a bag (containing, candy, brochures, service schedules, and tracts) onto the doorknob, ring the doorbell, and leave.

3. The indoor lights of the Jeep will stay on until turned off. This kills the battery. What should be "off" is really "on." The battery is dead again.

4. My dentist is the debil. No, not true. He's nice. The dental profession is the debil. That's better.

5. It's harder to make julian fries than it looks.

6. What is labeled as a size 4 might not, in fact, be a size 4 when you try it on. It is guaranteed not to be a size 4 once it enters your home and you try it on again.

7. Hallmark is the debil.

8. My scanner is the debil.

9. Knowing that you will be unemployed in three days gives one a simultaneously liberated and ill feeling.

10. Squirrels really do make that icky thump sound when you run over them.

Update on das boyz...

This is what Ambrose and Andy are up to. I found the website this morning, and felt it was a fairly accurate description of the whole PLC adventure. (We'll see what they say when they come back.) Granted, this young man was writing last year, but I'm told the experience doesn't change much from decade to decade. Our guys have just reached Wednesday of week one....

Teen's Name Changed After Years of Mockery

This totally cracked me up when I read it...and it seems to be quite true. I can think of worse things to be named, though...

(AP)

HANOI, Vietnam (July 7) - After nearly two decades of ridicule, a father has agreed to change his son's name from "Fined Six Thousand and Five Hundred" - the amount he was forced to pay in local currency for ignoring Vietnam's two-child policy.

Angry he was being fined for having a fifth child, Mai Xuan Can named his son Mai Phat Sau Nghin Ruoi after the amount he was forced to pay - 6,500 dong, or 50 cents, said Dai Cuong village chief Nguyen Huy Thuong.

In 1999, local government officials tried to persuade Can to change the name because the boy was constantly being teased by classmates at school. But Can, a former People's Committee official, refused to back down, Thuong said. They appealed to him again recently, and this time it worked.

"I told him that as his son is growing up, he should have another name - not that weird name - and he finally agreed," Thuong said.

The son, now 19, finally got a new name: Mai Hoang Long, which means golden dragon.

Oh, the agony this gives me...

WASHINGTON - When "say," "they" and "weigh" rhyme, but "bomb," "comb" and "tomb" don't, wuudn't it maek mor sens to spel wurdz the wae thae sound?

Those in favor of simplified spelling say children would learn faster and illiteracy rates would drop. Opponents say a new system would make spelling even more confusing.
Eether wae, the consept has yet to capcher th publix imajinaeshun.

It's been 100 years since Andrew Carnegie helped create the Simplified Spelling Board to promote a retooling of written English and President Theodore Roosevelt tried to force the government to use simplified spelling in its publications. But advocates aren't giving up.
They even picket the national spelling bee finals, held every year in Washington, costumed as bumble bees and hoisting signs that say "Enuf is enuf but enough is too much" or "I'm thru with through."

Thae sae th bee selebraets th ability of a fue stoodents to master a dificult sistem that stumps meny utherz hoo cuud do just as wel if speling were simpler.

"It's a very difficult thing to get something accepted like this," says Alan Mole, president of the American Literacy Council, which favors an end to "illogical spelling." The group says English has 42 sounds spelled in a bewildering 400 ways.

Americans doen't aulwaez go for whut's eezy — witnes th faeluer of th metric sistem to cach on. But propoenents of simpler speling noet that a smatering of aulterd spelingz hav maed th leep into evrydae ues.

Doughnut also is donut; colour, honour and labour long ago lost the British "u" and the similarly derived theatre and centre have been replaced by the easier-to-sound-out theater and center.
"The kinds of progress that we're seeing are that someone will spell night 'nite' and someone will spell through 'thru,'" Mole said. "We try to show where these spellings are used and to show dictionary makers that they are used so they will include them as alternate spellings."
"Great changes have been made in the past. Systems can change," a hopeful Mole said.

Lurning English reqierz roet memory rather than lojic, he sed.

In languages with phonetically spelled words, like German or Spanish, children learn to spell in weeks instead of months or years as is sometimes the case with English, Mole said.

But education professor Donald Bear said to simplify spelling would probably make it more difficult because words get meaning from their prefixes, suffixes and roots. "Students come to understand how meaning is preserved in the way words are spelled," said Bear, director of the E.L. Cord Foundation Center for Learning and Literacy at the University of Nevada, Reno.

Th cuntry's larjest teecherz uennyon, wuns a suporter, aulso objects.

Michael Marks, a member of the National Education Association's executive committee, said learning would be disrupted if children had to switch to a different spelling system. "It may be more trouble than it's worth," said Marks, a debate and theater teacher at Hattiesburg High School in Mississippi.

E-mail and text messages are exerting a similar tug on the language, sharing some elements with the simplified spelling movement while differing in other ways. Electronic communications stress shortcuts like "u" more than phonetics. Simplified spelling is not always shorter than regular spelling — sistem instead of system, hoep instead of hope.

Carnegie tried to moov thingz along in 1906 when he helpt establish and fund th speling bord. He aulso uezd simplified speling in his correspondens, and askt enywun hoo reported to him to do the saem.

A filanthropist, he becaem pashunet about th ishoo after speeking with Melvil Dewey, a speling reform activist and Dewey Desimal sistem inventor hoo simplified his furst naem bi droping "le" frum Melville.

Roosevelt tried to get the government to adopt simpler spellings for 300 words but Congress blocked him. He used simple spellings in all White House memos, pressing forward his effort to "make our spelling a little less foolish and fantastic."

The Chicago Tribune aulso got into th act, uezing simpler spelingz in th nuezpaeper for about 40 years, ending in 1975. Plae-riet George Bernard Shaw, hoo roet moest of his mateerial in shorthand, left muny in his wil for th development of a nue English alfabet.

Carnegie, Dewey, Roosevelt and Shaw's work followed attempts by Benjamin Franklin, Daniel Webster and Mark Twain to advance simpler spelling. Twain lobbied The Associated Press at its 1906 annual meeting to "adopt and use our simplified forms and spread them to the ends of the earth." AP declined.

But for aul th hi-proefiel and skolarly eforts, the iedeea of funy-luuking but simpler spelingz didn't captivaet the masez then — or now.

"I think that the average person simply did not see this as a needed change or a necessary change or something that was ... going to change their lives for the better," said Marilyn Cocchiola Holt, manager of the Pennsylvania department of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.
Carnegie, hoo embraest teknolojy, died in 1919, wel befor sel foenz. Had he livd, he probably wuud hav bin pleezd to no that milyonz of peepl send text and instant mesejez evry dae uezing thair oen formz of simplified speling: "Hav a gr8 day!"

Anniversary...

It seems to have been a year since Ambrose emailed me, informing me that he had either an annuerism or some other kind of potentially fatal brain condition. Those were not pleasant days, I assure you. It turned out, at the end, that he had a small (almost inoperable) tumour in the center of his brain. It would either have to shrink by August 2005, or be removed by way of very risky surgery.

It went away.

Completely.

God is really very cool. It's a great testament to the power of intercessory prayer--there were certainly enough of us praying for miraculous recovery. By the stated August deadline, the tumor (which he had the audacity to name Athena) has shrunk considerably. By December, it had disappeared. So we kept Ambrose, the doctors have a case which just didn't quite fit the medical plausibility criteria, and he's headed out to start learning to be a Marine this very weekend. Such is the way of grace.

Jalsevac meets Mr Wurtz....and then Sam

Our first three babies, all girls, each weighed about seven pounds at birth. When our fourth arrived, he was much larger.

After delivery, the medical team began testing and measuringmy new son. The last reading came from a nurse, who seemed impressed as she read, "Weight, nine pounds, eight ounces."

My husband, a CPA in corporate finance who'd been quiet upto this point, could contain himself no longer.

"How about that!" my husband exclaimed happily. "It's 36.5% more baby!"

Famous Catholic Farmer

This was the coolest thing ever.

http://agbio.sdstate.edu/eminent/single.cfm?id=242

Go figure, huh?

Sheesh.

There's been this unholy noise from the three little girls playing upstairs. Mom and I assumed that they were playing horses, which they tend to do quite often.

However, we were mistaken. In reality, they are playing College. They are college students, and they were pretending like they're late for class.

Oh my word.

You're Texas!

You aren't really much of your own person, but everyone around
you wishes you'd go away, so you might as well be independent.  You're
sort of loud-mouthed and abrasive, but you do have a fair amount of power.  You
like big trucks, big cattle, and big oil rigs.  And sometimes you really
smell.  But it's not all bad, you're big enough to have some soft spots
somewhere in all that redneck madness.

I do not like soccer

Please explain to me this sport, or rather the fanaticism of those who watch/play/enjoy it.

Moving on....

You should go here: www.thepinkcurb.blogspot.com. That's Jenne, and I like it. She always makes me see that life is all good. That I'm spoiled rotten. That the little things in life are really the big ones, and vice versa. I miss Jenne. I should walk out to her house and see her.

And mum.

And cat.

The Privilege of Being Catholic

A rather disappointing event took place this evening at choir rehearsal, which I am sad to say will prevent my family and I from going back.

One choir member took it upon himself to relate a joke in which a nun is trying to peek into a bar, wondering what is going on inside. A gentleman offers to take her in and show her around. She chooses a drink, pronouncing it "Martin-eye." The waiter carries this request to the bartender, and the response is "Is that [expletive deleted] nun back in here again?"

Obviously, this was in poor taste. We were all a little put out, but decided to give the joke teller the benefit of the doubt, say a prayer for a change of heart regarding rude jokes making fun of any religious entity (Catholic or otherwise), and move on. However, the director of the choir took it upon himself to remark, "Oh yes. Well, I've spent a great amount of time around Catholics up north, and believe me they know quite well how to pronounce the names of mixed drinks."

This was the director, teaching a college-credit choral ensemble (graduate students have to direct this choir in order to graduate), and he is representing the University. While I'm well aware that not all religious are created equal and that Catholics are always considered 'fair game' for jokes, we felt that for him to encourage the joking was quite wrong. How could we go back next week to sing, as if that sort of comment were acceptable and brought about no repercussions?

So the choir lost a second soprano, the balance soprano, and one of two tenors. Why is it that that 'fair game' attitude exists? It is so terribly wrong that the Church is so constantly put under attack, and those who stand up for her name have no choice but to absent themselves from groups which malign her. Argh. I'm frustrated. I can't write sensibly just yet.

For Father's Day...

HONOLULU (June 17) - For 60 years, Nancy Kenney wondered what happened to her father.
The submarine that William T. Mabin was in disappeared while he and his crewmates were on a mission to attack a Japanese convoy in the last months of World War II.

Now, the Navy says a wreck found at the bottom of the Gulf of Thailand appears to be the sub, the USS Lagarto.

"I have never in my life, unequivocally, felt such a high," said Kenney, who was 2 years old when her father and the submarine did not return from their mission in May 1945.

"We can just feel a sense of relief and a sense of peace in knowing what happened and where they are," said Kenney, of Lake LeeLanau, Mich.

Navy divers on Friday completed a six-day survey of the wreckage site. They took photos and video of the 311-foot, 9-inch submarine for further analysis by naval archeologists. The divers found twin 5-inch gun mounts on the forward and rear parts of the ship - a feature believed to be unique to the Lagarto.

They also saw the word "Manitowoc" displayed on the submarine's propeller, providing a connection to the Manitowoc, Wis., shipyard that built the Lagarto in the 1940s.
Eighty-six sailors died when the Lagarto sank in May 1945. The Japanese minelayer Hatsutaka reported dropping depth charges and sinking a U.S. sub in the area, though it was never known what ship it destroyed.

The Navy sent its divers to examine the ship to provide the sailors' families with some answers after a British professional shipwreck diver last year found what looked like the Lagarto, said Lt. Cmdr. Jeff Davis, a spokesman for the U.S. Pacific Fleet Submarine Force.

"It was important to bring a sense of closure to these families and it was important to do it in a way that would honor our fellow submariners," Davis said.

The Navy wouldn't do anything with the ship even if it conclusively determined it was the Lagarto, considering the sea to be a proper final resting place for "our people who are killed in action," he said.

The wreckage site over 100 miles off the eastern coast of Thailand is also likely to go undisturbed.

U.S. laws and international agreements already protect sunken U.S. warships from looters or others who would disturb the site, Davis said.

Since Kenney was just a toddler when her father went to war, she has no conscious memories of their life in LaGrange, Ill. But she said news of the Navy's dive "was the most important piece" of a puzzle about her father that she's been trying to put together for six decades.

The children of the Lagarto sailors feel closer to their fathers now more than ever, she said.

"We feel like we've found our fathers," Kenney said.

Peanut Butter

While attempting to scream the 5th Law of the Navy for his squad leader, my brother encountered one of the meaner tricks of indoc day at the Naval Academy.

Halfway through, Mr. Smith came very close and said in his ear, "Peanut butter."

Mike didn't lose his composure, but kept shouting the law at the top of his lungs.

"Peanut butter. Peanut butter, peanut butter."

Mike started sweating more.

"Didn't you hear me? I said peanut butter."

He made it to the end and didn't break, he said, but it got worse later when they were all reciting the mission of the academy. He said the squad leader stood right in front of him, and smiled. Just smiled benevolently, as if to say, "I'm really proud of you not breaking earlier. Way to go. We're buds, right?" That, Mike said, was the toughest bit.

Peanut Butter.

Lesson learned.

Hmm. Discovered last week that 'your mom' jokes are singularly ineffective when used upon one's own parent. Particularly one's female parent. Oh well. This, my friends, is why trends die.

In other news, I've unearthed another terrific old religious print and rescued it from a rather unappreciative antiques vendor. Woot! Can't wait to show it off to all and sundry--St. Nicholas in western (!) iconographic glory. There's so much symbolism in this thing I can't decipher, though. Unearthing the code (pun and lousy, corny joke intended) will be entertaining.

Look for me to blog no sooner than next tuesday, when I'll return home from MD. In the meantime, go visit the posse...there's scary people over there.

Eew.

One Sunday morning, while stationed at Osan Air Base in South Korea, I was in line for breakfast and noticed that the cook behind the counter looked kind of harassed.

After I gave him my order, he asked me how I wanted my eggs. Not wanting to burden him further, I said cheerfully, "Oh,whatever is easiest for you."

With that, he took two eggs, cracked them open onto my plate, and handed it back to me.

Posting slowly going is.

Sorry. It's just that I spend so much time emailing, and now typing at work, and doing laundry, and writing a calendar, and revising old bios, and reading, that I can never come up with anything to post about.

Maybe if I lose my mind later this week I'll post a little about the inaugural ball I went to this weekend. It was interesting, but it really made you appreciate dress code. Any dress code. I'm telling you, man. Some of those outfits wouldn't have stood up to a stiff wind, much less an RA.

Ouch. Offended my eyes, it did. Maybe I'll put more on later. For now, I'm giving up on Whimsey calling, and going to bed. I'm exhausted. All this Pentecosting is wearing me out.

Blessed Feast! Happy birthday, Church!

New Job!

Yup. I'm actually employed, at last. I go down and work three days a week for thie nice guy who runs a music instruction studio. Tuesday I sorted through a couple hundred defunct registration sheets.

Yesterday I spent four solid hours in Microsoft Excel, entering name after name after address after address after instructor after home phone after cell phone after zip code after age after instrument after instrumtn.

Today will be even more interesting, I'm sure. Will keep you posted--sorry about not blogging much lately.

Last post, I promise

It's that time of the decade. I'm going to quit posting for the day.

It just occurs to me that "Midnight Radio" doesn't make sense anymore. I don't ever post at midnight these days, and the idea of the radio show got lost in the shuffle of school stress, etc. Oh well. I like it too much to change it.

Besides, Bishop Sheen is still over there, watching over everything. I guess all is right with the world. Ciao, Ambrosio, wherever you are.

(Would it be totally cheesy at this point to say 'signing off!'? Yes. It would. What a revolting idea. Ugh. How cheesy is that? Like, for real.)

Patriotism swells in the heart of the American bear*

Hmm. Says a retired (ostensibly) Lieutenant Commander per the Iraq thing:

"I would be over there in a minute if I had the youth, the strength, and a complete, functional set of arches in my feet."

I thought that was a beautiful sentiment.

*See Muppets. No connection to the post. Just me being, well, me.

Cause for Canonization opened for USMC Chaplain

WASHINGTON (CNS) -- With the permission of the Vatican, the U.S. Archdiocese for the Military Services has begun an inquiry that could lead to the canonization of Maryknoll Father Vincent R. Capodanno, a U.S. Navy chaplain who died in 1967 while serving with the Marines in Vietnam.

Msgr. Roland A. Newland, chancellor of the archdiocese, made the formal declaration of the opening of Father Capodanno's cause May 21 during the 12th annual Memorial Day Mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington.With the declaration, the New York-born priest also receives the title "servant of God." A tribunal set up by the Archdiocese for the Military Services will gather information about Father Capodanno's life and virtues for eventual presentation to the Vatican Congregation for Saints' Causes.

Archbishop Edwin F. O'Brien, head of the military archdiocese, was the main celebrant for the Mass, attended by more than 1,500 people.In his homily at the Mass, Father Louis V. Iasiello, a rear admiral who is chief of Navy chaplains, said Father Capodanno "is more than a person of extraordinary military accomplishment. ... He is also a Christian who lived an exemplary life of extraordinary virtue, a person who, through the testament of his life, offers all believers a model of faith to inspire them to live, more deeply, their own Christian vocation.

"Father Iasiello said it was fitting that the chaplain's canonization cause be opened around Memorial Day, when Americans "take time and honor their dead with flowers, flags, memorial speeches and, of course, with prayer.""It is no mere coincidence that today, at yet another time of national emergency, and at a time set aside to honor America's heroes, that at this particular time, the church would single out one of these heroes and celebrate their unique
contributions to both their country and to us, the people of faith," he added.

Although many veterans left Southeast Asia "with physical, psychological and spiritual wounds," Father Iasiello said, others left "with some positive memories, especially the loving memory of having known a very special chaplain and priest, one who day and night, both in and out of combat, reflected the love and mercy of God in their midst."

Born Feb. 13, 1929, on Staten Island in New York, Vincent Robert Capodanno studied at Maryknoll seminaries and was ordained to the priesthood June 7, 1957. He served for the first eight years of his priesthood as a Maryknoll missionary in Taiwan and Hong Kong.Commissioned as a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy Dec. 28, 1965, Father Capodanno asked to serve with the Marines in Vietnam and joined the 1st Marine Division in 1966 as battalion chaplain.According to a biography on the Web site of the military archdiocese, "Marines affectionately called Chaplain Capodanno the 'grunt padre' for his ability to relate well with soldiers and his willingness to risk his life to minister to the men." "Grunt" is slang for a member of the U.S. infantry.He extended his one-year tour of duty in Vietnam by six months to continue serving with his men.

Fatally wounded by enemy sniper fire Sept. 4, 1967, he was posthumously awarded the nation's highest military honor, the Medal of Honor, "for conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty."Memorials to Father Capodanno include chapels, a boulevard, military buildings, a scholarship fund and the USS Capodanno, commissioned in 1973 for anti-submarine warfare and decommissioned 20 years later.

Que?

(That does mean why, right, in addition to what?)

Why is this blog so boring? Why can I never seem to find time or energy or inclination to post anything on it? It's Memorial Day weekend, there are so many things I could blog about, and patriotism and America and the military are among my favorites subjects, yet I sit and read or (worse) play minesweeper.

This is sad. I should do something about it. It just seems that blogging is the sort of thing you have to be interested in. Jalsevac says that's not true. Writing is something you have to force yourself to do sometimes, something that you have to discipline yourself to do, even on the days ("especially on the days") when you don't feel like it. Whatever. I don't feel like blogging.

So I'm not going to blog. I'm going to go back upstairs, curl up with the cat, and read more of my book about a priest in Russia. Then, later, I'm going to leave with me mum to play for a wedding of two people I don't know from Adam's Housecat (thank you, Addy, for a great new expression to use). The rehearsal last night was a trip, to be sure. As usual, the bride's family (including but not limited to the bride) is not Catholic and has no idea of decorum within the Church. Also as usual, no one has any idea what the primary function of clothing is--to clothe--and instead run around in brightly-colored items which apear to be beach towels, with pencils or something strapped to their heels by numerous thin strings. These, I'm told, are called sandals. They look like something from Communist Russia's torture chambers to me. Or maybe a back brace for a paralytic ferret.

Anyway, the rehearsal was nice, and mom and I have our fingers crossed that the dresses used in the actual ceremony this afternoon (it's a Mass, and we can't decide if that makes it better or worse. I guess it makes it better) aren't overly deficient in things like fabric. I tell you what, though. If some of the women wanted to sit in the choir loft and get our view of the wedding party as it mills around right below us, they'd think twice about wearing their tube top.

That was probably uncharitable of me to say. Oh well. It serves her right. It just seems to me that women who parade and complain about equality and 'equal intelligence gets equal rights' should try and exhibit a little intelligence before they get their 'rights' (whatever that means).

Dang. This is why I hate writing. This post was great, up until the paralytic ferret. However, I can't seem to be able to end it, and the quality and coherence are rapidly dwindling into non-being. Why does this happen to me?? The post shoudl have ended just over a paragraph ago, yet I'm still sitting here. It's very frustrating to never be able to rise above the level of semi-garbage. (I'm going to get an email from Ambrose, I'llbetcha, in approximately 23.6 seconds, informing me that I should never be self-deprecating like that when it clearly isn't true. You watch.) But that's where I'm stuck. Using too many parentheses and probably mispelling tons of stuff up through there because mom put a different (wierd) keyboard no the computer which has all the buttons in the wrong place, and being to lazy to go back and proofread.

The Riddler, the Joker, and

Sorry about that last post. After looking at it all morning, I've finally decided that it needs a teeny bit of explaining, otherwise it just looks somewhat odd.

I think we, as a nation specifically, are two-faced. That's all. I'll betcha that Planned Parenthood and all its evil stepchildren will jump all over this 'new initiative' in order to advance the impression they put out there of themselves as concerned about women and children's health.

Makes me ill.

Washington Post report tells all women to 'think Pregnant'

New federal guidelines ask all females capable of conceiving a baby to treat themselves -- and to be treated by the health care system -- as pre-pregnant, regardless of whether they plan to get pregnant anytime soon.

Among other things, this means all women between first menstrual period and menopause should take folic acid supplements, refrain from smoking, maintain a healthy weight and keep chronic conditions such as asthma and diabetes under control.

Read the whole article...

Getting back into the shuffle of things...

Yes, yes. The major general comes...

Actually, it's just summertime. Time for me to kick back, spend way too much time on the couch, and blog about all things. If you all want to wait until I get my company sent home, I'll promise to post something interesting next week.

Dat dere wallflower...

Well, folks, it has happened. Twenty years of Christendom College history have gone up in flames. According to a reliable source, I've been informed that The Wallflower has been burned to death in Kelly's Field, and it now no more.

Once upon a time, a particularly hideous and unique bit of artwork surfaced at Christendom, which became dubbed 'the wallflower' as young men would dress up and bring the oversized print with them to dances, as their 'date', and sit by the wall with it rather than dance. At some uncharted point, the ladies of the campus stole the flower. The gentlemen stole it back. So on and so forth. Somewhere back along those twenty years the idea was conceived to sign the back of the painting, if you were lucky enough to get possession of it, and hide it for the nect generation to unearth.

The wallflower last legitimately surfaced at homecoming of this year, when two alumni hid the thing in the attic crawlspaces of Regina Coeli. A freshman, aspiring to the class presidency for next year, unearthed it and included it in his campaign. Several property abductions, two fights, and a cut finger later, some unidentified individual decided that the Wallflower wasn't worth the fuss it was causing, and burned it.

So much for that.

Be reverent at Mass, says bishop

LONDON The head of the Vatican's Congregation for Divine Worship and the Sacraments urged Catholics to be reverent during Mass and to venerate the Eucharist properly.

During a talk in Westminster Cathedral April 1, Nigerian Cardinal Francis Arinze called on priests to restore tabernacles to central positions in churches and for Catholics to rediscover the tradition of reverent genuflection in the presence of the Eucharist.

He also called for an end to adding details to and subtracting them from the approved rites of the Mass and for an end to soft background music during Mass and other times when people were trying to pray in church.

"This is doubtless well intentioned, but it is a mistake," said the cardinal. "People enter churches to pray, not to be entertained."

The cardinal told about 400 audience members that Mass was the "supreme act of adoration, praise and thanksgiving which humanity can offer God."

"Man is not the center of reality. God is. By adoring God through the holy Eucharist, we pay this due tribute to God's transcendence," he said. "Those who refuse to adore God must not decorate themselves with the apparently nice title of liberal intellectuals."

The cardinal said that a person who refused to give God the adoration he truly deserved was like a child who refused to respect his parents, and as a result harmed his or her own best interests.

"Would it be wrong to call him stupid?" asked the cardinal.

He said Christians must not allow themselves to be "misled by the errors" of a secular mentality "which lives as if God did not exist."

He said attention had to be paid to the roles of every Mass participant, especially the priest, who must act "in such a way that his faith and devotion shine out."

Cardinal Arinze said the October Synod of Bishops stressed that the tabernacle should be the "center of our attention and prayer."

But, he said, some "misguided" people still relegated tabernacles to obscure corners of their churches, where it sometimes was difficult for visitors to locate.

"A do-it-yourself mentality, an attitude of 'nobody will tell me what to do,' or a defiant sting of 'if you do not like my Mass you can go to another parish' is not only against sound theology and ecclesiology, but also offends against common sense," he said. "Unfortunately, sometimes common sense is not very common, when we see a priest ignoring liturgical rules and installing creativity -- in his case idiosyncrasy -- as the guide to the celebration of the Mass."

The talk, titled "The Eucharistic Mystery Calls for Our Response," was the key event of an afternoon dedicated to "thinking about and celebrating" the church's liturgy. Three English prelates -- Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor of Westminster, Archbishop Kevin McDonald of Southwark and Bishop Thomas McMahon of Brentwood and Auxiliary Bishop Mark Coleridge of Melbourne, Australia, were among those who attended.

from Catholic News Service, via mom. (-: Thanks, mom!

Dewm

Please start praying for everyone, as finals begin tomorrow.

Laura and I put almost all of our belongings in storage today, so hopefully that will give us extra study time. Have a great one....

St. Mark

The second Gospel was written by St. Mark, who, in the New Testament, is sometimes called John Mark. Both he and his mother, Mary, were highly esteemed in the early Church, and his mother's house in Jerusalem served as a meeting place for Christians there.

St. Mark was associated with St. Paul and St. Barnabas (who was Mark's cousin) on their missionary journey through the island of Cyprus. Later he accompanied St. Barnabas alone. We know also that he was in Rome with St. Peter and St. Paul. Tradition ascribes to him the founding of the Church in Alexandria.

St. Mark wrote the second Gospel, probably in Rome sometime before the year 60 A.D.; he wrote it in Greek for the Gentile converts to Christianity. Tradition tells us that St. Mark was requested by the Romans to set down the teachings of St. Peter. This seems to be confirmed by the position which St. Peter has in this Gospel. In this way the second Gospel is a record of the life of Jesus as seen throuhh the eyes of the Prince of the Apostles. His feast day is April 25. He is the patron saint of notaries.

Therefore, my brethren...

I have done it. For the first time in at least six years, I have engaged a Protestant friend in a discussion about the various passages in Scripture which deal with faith, works, salvation, and the various combinations thereof.

This is the first time in any number of years that my friend has been even remotely charitable and helpful in the midst of said discussion. Very bad memories of harsh, biting repartee and scornful derision on the part of Protestants are now (happily) being replaced by lucid, kind, Christian dialog. This is nice. I don't think the two of us are going to come to an agreement, perhaps we will, but at least there aren't nasty words and sharp accusations flying around.

Ubi caritas? Thanks, Liz.

Jack shall have Jill....

Oh my goodness. This has been one of those days.

Overdrew my checking account, I found, much to my dismay, shock, upset, concern, confusion, disconcertment, and general "huh"ness. I was not amused. I've got it all straight now, but its really depressing to see just how much living costs.

Very annoying. I have to go write a paper. Pray for me, friends.

Please, Mr. Postman

This text is the actual body of a spam message the blog received yesterday morning. I found it just too amusing to keep to myself:

"Greetings,

I discovered a dormant account in my office, as Group finance director with Lloyds bank London. It will be in my interest to transfer this fund worth Twenty Million Pounds Sterling (£20,000,000) in an account offshore. If you can be a collaborator/partner to this please indicate interest immediately for us to proceed. Remember this is absolutely confidential, as I am seeking your assistance as the beneficiary of this unclaimed funds, since we are not allowed to operate a foreign account, Your contact phone numbers and name will be necessary for this effect, I have reposed my confidence in you and hope that you will not disappoint me."

Sniff.

My blog makes me sad. Nothing is happening on it right now.

It is depressed.

I am exhausted. No more stage managing plays, ever ever ever.

The Scottish Play

If any of you are familiar with a certain work of Shakespeare and the various and sundry myths and legends associated with the putting on of a production thereof, you will understand the following statement.

Given the number of disasters, and their magnitude, which have occurred since this play began, it is safe to say that we might as well be producing Macbeth. We really might. From the beginning days, way back when this play was still the Miracle Worker, some bad karma (I use the term very loosely, not intending any inappropriate religious or philosophical connotations whatever, but rather as a figure of speech amounting to 'jinx' and I intend no resemblance, real or imagined, to any character, event, place, or phenomenon currntly in existence in the world today) has been out to get us.

I'm sick of Midsummer Night's Dream. I want problems to stop happening and the stupid ass' head to quit giving me issues and falling apart, and I want the actors to chill, and I want the curtains to be up, and I want the theatre to be clean, and I want the costumes to fit, and I want the lights to work.

And I want Donna to please help me understand when to cue the lights, because she will certainly not be able to do it once the show is really underway and she is out in the audience. ARGH.

The Month of the Military Child

This month the military will recognize the importance of a very special segment of the military population - military children. One might ask "why is it so important to observe month of the military child?" Children are the future of our nation, and in many cases our military children are the future of our Armed forces.

Military service is predominantly a family business for many families. Many Soldiers have a variety of family ties to the Army. Therefore it is important for the military to place great interest in our military children.

For those of you who did not know just how prominent children are in the military community, here are some interesting facts that show the impact that children and families have on the military:

· In the U.S. military, 90,000 babies are born each year. · Nearly one-half of the military force is 25-years-old or younger, and most families have their first child before this age.

· There are 1 million military children under the age of 11.

· More than half of the active-duty workforce is married, approximately 53 percent.

· Six percent of military service members are single parents.

· One out of every four junior-enlisted service members (grades E-1 to E-4) is married; one of every five has a child.

· Military families move an average of every three years.

· Almost two-thirds of military spouses are employed or seeking employment, including 87 percent of junior-enlisted spouses.

· The Department of Defense has the largest employer-sponsored childcare program in the country, serving more than 200,000 children (ages 12 and under) daily.

· According to a year-long study conducted by the Peabody Center for Education Policy at Vanderbilt University, students enrolled in Department of Defense schools outscore their public school peers on standardized tests.

(courtesy of mom~thanks!)

How to lose a mind in 10 days

It seems that I have developed a chronically busted upper lip. Every time the thing starts to heal, I smile, laugh, talk, or cross my eyes and the stupid thing opens up again. Oh well. It's giving me a gangster look...big fat lip.... I can see the headline: Jenny "Lips" O'Potterson (Fr. O'Kielty's version of me last name) Steals Hope Diamond to return to rightful king of France, Louis XX! Whatever.

I don't like this week. It displeases me. I'm trying to make a forest, but I don't know how to paint trees and it keeps raining and being windy and my flats keep going away because people buy them from under me. Argh. So frustrating.

Correction

Okay, so I said fourteen hours. More like, uh...more than fourteen.

West Point was really beautiful.

Yale was not.

The Naval Academy was really beautiful.

The Coast Guard Academy would be nicer if the wind chill weren't 10 degrees.

More later. Stay tuned.

Beware the Ides of March

You're good now. If something was going to happen on the Ides of March, it would have happened Wednesday, 'cause that's when they were.

I love break. I love the feeling of not having an exam to study for. I'm free! Only one class stands between me, freedom, and a fourteen hour road trip with my family.

That's not strictly true, actually. Actually, I'm recording a CD tomorrow afternoon, along with all the talented people in the choir. They just keep me in to ensure that I stay humble, because they're all real good and I stink.

More on this later. Maybe. Probably not, as the van is not internet-equipped.

Ouch

As the manager of our hospital's softball team, I was responsible for returning equipment to the proper owners atthe end of the season.

When I walked into the surgery department carrying a bat that belonged to one of the surgeons, I passed severalpatients and their families in a waiting area.

I heard one man say to his wife, "Look, honey, here comes your anesthesiologist."

Wow.

Just shows you my naiivete...I did not know until about fifteen seconds ago that there was a song with the same title as my blog. Oh well. The lyrics don't seem to be obscene or overtly offensive, so I'll just move along and suggest that you now buy the album.

Go listen to Verdi or Vivaldi or Beethoven instead. Ooh, ooh.. Or Gabrieli or Telemann. Mah fave'rit!

Proud to be an American

Yesterday afternoon, I was privileged to witness as yet another of my friends pledged his committment to the Armed Forces of the United States. Even though it was just four of us and Captain Martin in the upstairs of the gym, it was still very powerful. Don't let me get started...just suffice to say I was very proud.

"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."
(Title 10, US Code; Act of 5 May 1960 replacing the wording first adopted in 1789, with amendment effective 5 October 1962).

St. John of God

Born at Montemor o Novo, Portugal, 8 March, 1495, of devout Christian parents; died at Granada, 8 March, 1550. The wonders attending the saints birth heralded a life many-sided in its interests, but dominated throughout by implicit fidelity to the grace of God. A Spanish priest whom he followed to Oropeza, Spain, in his ninth year left him in charge of the chief shepherd of the place, to whom he gradually endeared himself through his punctuality and fidelity to duty, as well as his earnest piety. When he had reached manhood, to escape his master's well-meant, but persistent, offer of his daughter's hand in marriage, John took service for a time in the army of Charles V, and on the renewal of the proposal he enlisted in a regiment on its way to Austria to do battle with the Turks. Succeeding years found him first at his birthplace, saddened by the news of his mother's premature death, which had followed close upon his mysterious disappearance; then a shepherd at Seville on the way to Africa, to ransom with his liberty. Christians held captive by the Moors. He accompanied to Africa a Portuguese family just expelled from the country, to whom charity impelled him to offer his services. On the advice of his confessor he soon returned to Gilbratar, where, brief as had been the time since the invention of the printing-press, he inaugurated the Apostolate of the printed page, by making the circuit of the towns and villages about Gilbratar, selling religious books and pictures, with practically no margin of profit, in order to place them within the reach of all.

It was during this period of his life that he is said to have been granted the vision of the Infant Jesus, Who bestowed on him the name by which he was later known, John of God, also bidding him to go to Granada. There he was so deeply impressed by the preaching of Blessed John of Avila that he distributed his worldly goods and went through the streets of the city, beating his breast and calling on God for mercy. For some time his sanity was doubted by the people and he was dealt with as a madman, until the zealous preacher obliged him to desist from his lamentations and take some other method of atoning for his past life. He then made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Guadeloupe, where the nature of his vocation was revealed to him by the Blessed Virgin. Returning to Granada, he gave himself up to the service of the sick and poor, renting a house in which to care for them and after furnishing it with what was necessary, he searched the city for those afflicted with all manner of disease, bearing on his shoulders any who were unable to walk.

For some time he was alone in his charitable work soliciting by night the needful supplies, and by day attending scrupulously to the needs of his patients and the rare of the hospital; but he soon received the co-operatlon of charitable priests and physicians. Many beautiful stories are related of the heavenly guests who visited him during the early days of herculean tasks, which were lightened at tirnes by St. Raphael in person. To put a stop to the saint's habit of exchanging his cloak with any beggar he chanced to meet, Don Sebastian Ramirez, Bishop of Tuy, had made for him a habit, which was later adopted in all its essentials as the religious garb of his followers, and he imposed on him for all time the name given him by the Infant Jesus, John of God. The saint's first two companions, Antonio Martin and Pedro Velasco, once bitter enemies who had scandalised all Granada with their quarrels and dissipations, were converted through his prayers and formed the nucleus of a fourishing congregation. The former advanced so far on the way of perfection that the saint on his death-bed commended him to his followers as his successor in the government of the order. The latter, Peter the Sinner, as he called himself, became a model of humility and charity.

Among the many miracles which are related of the saint the most famous is the one commemorated in the Office of his feast, his rescue of all the inmates during a fire in the Grand Hospital at Granada, he himself passing through the flames unscathed. His boundless charity extended to widows and orphans, those out of employment, poor students, and fallen women. After thirteen years of severe mortification, unceasing prayer, and devotion to his patients, he died amid the lamentations of all the inhabitants of Granada. His last illness had resulted from an heroic but futile effort to save a young man from drowning. The magistrates and nobility of the city crowded about his death-bed to express their gratitude for his services to the poor, and he was buried with the pomp usually reserved for princes. He was beatified by Urban VIII, 21 September, 1638, and canonized by Alexander VIII, 16 October, 1690. Pope Leo XIII made St. John of God patron of hospitals and the dying.

(From NewAdvent.com)

Slightly Retarded

Upon leaving the Bethesda area last Saturday/Sunday (read: 12:30am), our driver felt it incumbent upon him to purchase some liquid caffeine before starting the journey back to campus. He did so. Among his change was a 1941 wheat penny. I am something of a coin collector, so he naturally brought it back to me in a tizzy, eager to share the treasure.

It was late. I was tired. So was everyone else in the car. I am sadistic. (Everyone else in the car wasn't, but that's beside the point.)

I took the penny, looked at it for a moment, and then suddenly exclaimed, "Oh, my gosh! Joseph, do you realize what this is? There are only a few like it in the entire world...this is a defective penny. Lincoln's head is actually printed on the back of the coin, instead of the front. They've reversed the sides!"

Sure enough, his eyes grew wide and he eagerly leaned forward to get a better look at the rare fine. It was beautiful.

Obscure Saint of the Day

St. Baldred...

a Celtic Bishop of Strathclyde, b. about 643; d. at Aldhame, Haddingtonshire, about 607. He is said to have been the immediate successor of the great St. Kentigern, or Mungo, the fo9under of the See of Glasgow, Scotland. Like St. Kentigern, he was of Irish ancestry, but is reckoned as a British saint, inasmuch as Strathclyde was part of Britain. The chronology of the period when he flourished is somewhat obscure, but the best authorities on Scottish history agree that St. Baldred was born towards the middle of the sixth century. Previous to his consecration, St. Baldred had ;laboured for many years in Strathclyde, and had founded numerous houses for monks as also for holy virgins in addition to the churches of Aldhame, Tyinguham and Preston Kirk. Owing to the disturbed state of the kingdom, he was forced after a short rule to retire from the spiritual government of the Strathclyde Britons as also happened to his predecessor.

Sidebar shmidebar.

Incidentally, I'm compiling a list of interesting Yiddish word which, on occasion, our New Testament professor will teach us. I like.

Made a couple additions to the sidebar, folks. Also (just in case you haven't noticed), the "fab six" (which was originally like the fab four, or maybe three) of Fiddleback Fever have officially disbanded and gone their seperate cyberways. However, Fiddleback remains on blogger as an archive, and you can still visit to read the old stuff. I do. It's really fun.

Excerpts from "The Modern Cat's Guide to Pets"

1. Introduction: Why Do We Need Humans?

So you've decided to get yourself a human being. In doing so, you've joined the millions of other cats who have acquired these strange and often frustrating creatures.There will be any number of times, during the course of your association with humans, when you will wonder why you have bothered to grace them with your presence. What's so great about humans anyway? Why not just hang around with other cats? Our greatest philosophers have struggled with this question for centuries, but the answer is actually rather simple:THEY HAVE OPPOSABLE THUMBS. Which makes them the perfect tools for such tasks as opening doors, getting the lids off of cat food cans, changing television stations, and other activities that we, despite our other obvious advantages, find difficult to do ourselves. True, chimps, orangutans, and lemurs also have opposable thumbs, but they are nowhere as easy to train.

2. How and When to Get Your Human's Attention

Humans often erroneously assume that there are other, more important activities than taking care of your immediate needs, such as conducting business, spending time with their families, or even sleeping. Though this is dreadfully inconvenient, you can make this work to your advantage by pestering your human at the moment it is the busiest. It is usually so flustered that it will do whatever you want it to do, just to get you out of its hair. Not coincidentally, human teenagers follow this same practice. Here are some tried and true methods of getting your human to do what you want:

Sitting on paper: An oldie but a goodie. If a human has paper in front of it, chances are good it assumes the paper is more important than you. It will often offer you a snack to lure you away. Establish your supremacy over this woodpulp product at every opportunity. This practice also works well with computer keyboards, remote controls, car keys, and small children.

Waking your human at odd hours: A cat's "golden time" is between 3:30 and 4:30 in the morning. If you paw at your human's sleeping face during this time, you have a better than ever chance that it will get up and, in an incoherent haze, do exactly what you want. You may actually have to scratch deep sleepers to get their attention; remember to vary the scratch site to keep the human from getting suspicious.

3. Punishing Your Human Being

Sometimes, despite your best training efforts, your human will stubbornly resist bending to your whim. In these extreme circumstances, you may have to punish your human.Obvious punishments, such as scratching furniture or eating household plants, are likely to backfire; the unsophisticated humans are likely to misinterpret the activities and then try to discipline YOU. Instead, we offer these subtle but nonetheless effective alternatives:

* Use the cat box during an important formal dinner.

* Stare impassively at your human while it is attempting aromantic interlude.

* Stand over an important piece of electronic equipment andfeign a hairball attack.

* After your human has watched a particularly disturbing horror film, stand by the hall closet and then slowly backaway, hissing and yowling.

* While your human is sleeping, lie on its face.

4. Rewarding Your Human: Should Your Gift Still Be Alive?

The cat world is divided over the etiquette of presenting humans with the thoughtful gift of a recently disembowelled animal. Some believe that humans prefer these gifts already dead, while others maintain that humans enjoy a slowly expiring cricket or rodent just as much as we do, given their jumpy and playful movements in picking the creatures up after they've been presented. After much consideration of the human psyche, we recommend the following: cold-blooded animals (large insects, frogs, lizards, garden snakes, and the occasional earthworm) should be presented dead, while warm-blooded animals (birds, rodents, your neighbour's Pomeranian) are better still living. When you see the expression on your human's face,you'll know it's worth it.

5. How Long Should You Keep Your Human?

You are obligated to your human for only one of your lives. The other eight are up to you. We recommend mixing and matching, though in the end, most humans (at least the ones that are worth living with) are pretty much the same. But what do you expect? They're humans, after all. Opposable thumbs will take you only so far.

(thanks (x-:) to Ambrose)

Another one rides the bus.

The discussion before theology class this afternoon devolved into a discussion of how to beat the system when riding (or attempting to ride) a train in Italy. It occurred to me that a great deal of savvy-gathering ought to be done by any traveler to Europe, before leaving western hemispherical soil. Learning on your own may make the lessons stick harder, but the wear and tear on your nervous system is most likely not worth it.

Expect the train twenty minutes either side of the scheduled arrival time, but rarely (if ever) when the board actually says.

Don't expect it to be at the designated platform when it does arrive. It's probably over...there... someplace.

Don't bother asking if you are allowed to sleep in a train station, because they will kick you out. Just do it without asking.

Avoid sleeping in train stations at all costs.

Don't trust someone who speaks really good English. They're trying to scam you.

Don't trust someone who speaks really poor English. They're trying to scam you.

And so on...the list will be added to many times, I'm sure. After all, I've yet to go anyplace myself, as yet. I should work on that. Maybe go to Rome this coming fall....spend a week in the British isles on the way. Oh, yes. Very good stuff.

Gross

I cleaned a vacuum today.

Please don't ask me what I found. My anthropological instincts tell me I'll make more money if I keep it under my hat until National Geographic arrives.

Can't say I didn't warn you.

I said back over Christmas that blogging would virtually cease once I got back to school. I was telling the truth. Somehow I can't bring myself to spend a few precious minutes blogging when I could be doing something much more productive. Like sleeping.

I never thought that sleep would become such a dear commodity as it seems to be now. If I'm not studying or otherwise scholastically occupied at a given moment, I will be found either (a) acutally sleeping or, (b) thinking about going to sleep or, (c) just waking up from sleep.

How sad. Oh well. Back I disappear into the world of non-blogging.

Good night.

Crazy going slowly

There's a nutty woman sitting next to me and deciding which scenes to use to cast a play.

This is a nice idea, of course, but I wish she'd decided to do all this longer ago. Auditions are tonight. Grr. I also wish I had time to get more things done, like blog. I'm running all the time now. College is nuts. Sheesh.

Bye.

Smell the color nine...

Sigh. School is such a drag. Classes, schedules, things like that...wow. It interrupts college life so very terribly!

On a lighter note, I've decided that living in a dorm with a bunch of girls is a lot of fun. We stayed up until almost 10 having a "hall meeting," which mainly consisted of making or drinking cappucino and all talking loudly at the same time. It was good. Of course, so was the prank call to our good buddy Joe, but that's a dufferent kind of good. It was rather a "is he laughing really hard, or did that sound more like a coronary?"

My theology professor greeted me before class with, "Ah, Miss P, you're the audiophile, are you not? Because I seem to have two copies of Bach's Christmas Oratorio in my colllection, and I have the extra in my car to give to you."

I love school. It adds so much to college life! The classes, the schedules. They're all so wonderful.

Figures...

When one wishes to unlock a door but has has only one hand free, the keys are in the opposite pocket. (Von Fumbles Law)

A door will snap shut only when you have left the keys inside. (Yale Law of Destiny)

When one's hands are covered with oil, grease, or glue, your nose will start to itch. (Law of Ichiban)

Your insurance will cover everything but what has happened. (Insurance So Sorry Law)

When things seem to be going well, you've probably forgotten to do something. (Cheney's Second Corollary)

When things seem easy to do, it's because you haven't followed all the instructions. (Destiny Awaits Law)

If you keep your cool when everyone else is losing his, it's probably because you have not realized the seriousness ofthe problem. (Law of Gravitas)

Most problems are not created or solved; they only change appearances. (Einstein's Law of Persistence)

You will run to answer the telephone just as the party hangs up on you. (Principle of Dingaling)

Whenever you connect with the Internet, the call you've been waiting for all day will arrive. (Principle of Bellsouth)

If there are only two programs on TV that are worth your time, they will always be at the same time. (Law ofWasteland)

The cost is always higher than one budgets for, and it isexactly 3.14 times higher, hence the importance of pi. (Lawof Pi Eyed)

The probability that one will spill food on one's clothes is directly proportional to the need to be clean. (Law ofCampbell Scoop)

Each and every body submerged in a bathtub will cause the phone to ring. (Law of Yes Now)

Each and every body sitting on a commode will cause the doorbell to ring. (Law of Ding Dong)

Wind velocity will increase proportionally to the cost of one's hairdo. (The Don King Principle)

After discarding something not used for years, you will need it one week later. (Law of Fatal Irreversibility)

Arriving early for an appointment will cause the receptionist to be absent, and if one arrives late, everyoneelse has arrived before you. (Law of Delay)

Do not take life too seriously, because in the end, you won't come out alive anyway. (Theory of Absolute Certainty)

Keephousing

Just a note to faithful viewers. Yes, I changed the sidebar majorly.

St. Joseph might come back.

He might not. I might pick a new saint to shepherd the links. Maybe the patron of golfers or something. I'm still deciding. For now, however, I've put a couple new blogs on the sidebar, a couple new real websites, and just generally cleaned house. If something doesn't work, email me your irate and screaming complaint, and I'll see to it within the next fiscal year. You know, the one that starts in September?

(-: Cheers. Don't look for much blogging from me after this. School starts Monday.

Catholicism is so cool!

VATICAN CITY, JAN. 10, 2006 (Zenit.org).- The Vatican Secret Archives may now be visited on the Internet. After selecting the language on the Holy See's site, a click on the Focus section of the home page offers a virtual walk through the archives' age-old halls amid frescoes and documents.

One may (virtually) page through documents such as the 14th-century Parchment of Chinon, which records the absolution of Pope Clement V of the leading members of the Templar Order. Also accessible are the proceedings of the trial against Galileo Galilei.

Among other treasures, the Vatican Secret Archives include key documents concerning the history of single nations. "Moreover, for some countries, the Vatican documents are the oldest ones, which even mark the beginning of their own national history," explains the Web page.

The archives include about 85 linear kilometers (52 miles) of shelves. The oldest document dates to the eighth century, while the archives have an almost uninterrupted documentation starting from 1198.

The archives are primarily used by the Pope and the Roman Curia. In 1881, by decision of Pope Leo XIII, part of the archives was opened to be consulted by scholars, "thus becoming the most important center of historical research in the world."

photo: Charles IV (1355-1378) crowned by the legates of Innocent VI (1352-1362)