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.