7 Quick Takes

 

Howitzers Can’t Swim

Many truths are self-evident, and I’ve always felt the above was one of them.  Apparently not.  My hero husband helper dude is all getting important and involved with a big amphibious exercise thing next year.  Which, like I said, I’m pretty sure doesn’t sound like one of those things a cannon ought to be involved with, ever.  We’ve got enough trouble with Marines being unable to swim, why go and put dangerous and expensive equipment near the water as well?  You’d think it was what the Corps was designed for or something.

In other news, you should actually be serious and pray for both my uncle’s mother, who is dying, and for all the poor people involved in any way with the scandal up at Penn State.  (If you don’t know what I mean, don’t look it up, because you’ll become sad and grossed out.)  The world is a mess.  Yesterday we stopped off to visit a couple of Joe’s relatives that I hadn’t really ever met before, and Aunt Jeanne was saying she wished that more groups of people looked out for each other.  We agreed…but then again, if everyone was like that, Joe would be out of a job.

Finally, my two new classrooms opened this morning and I’ve been on already, overachieving and submitting my bio and honor code pledge at the crack of early.  This way I have all week to put off commenting on the assigned article, which at 5 pages from the WSJ shouldn’t exactly put me into a sweat.  These are going to be fun classes, but I can already tell it was asking for trouble to take two at once.  First of all, what sounded like two similar linear subjects are NOT AT ALL so nicely laid out.  In fact, we swan dive off the cliff of Western history straight into Napoleon (ech) within two weeks in Class A, but in Class B he’s the case model for consideration at the end of the course.  Drat.

And I hate Napoleon.  He probably couldn’t even swim.

p.s. My camera didn’t make it to PA with me, so you don’t get any pictures of our fantastically fantastic trip until one of my sisters-in-law shares her photos.  I have gotten back on facebook for this express purpose.  Also to get better and more current information on base construction projects.

Happy Birthday!

Two years ago, my little guy turned Catholic.  It’s handy, using easy and significant Holy Days of Obligation for your major family feasts.  Hard to forget that way.

There he is, freshly exorcised, with Sancta Risus (who did get her phone call from the nuns!).  Her baptismal day is January 1st, another Holy Day, so we’re trying to set a trend here and only baptize on unforgettable days.

What a sweet little baby.  That was the day I was cantoring High Mass (less than a week out of surgery? why, yes, now that you mention it) and left my Magic Ibuprofen Magicalness at the house.  So my mum had to run out at the Gospel and get it no matter what.  In the rain.  And the cold.  And the wind.  She did, and I got my fix, and no one had to see/hear me off the good stuff, and it just was in general a really good day.  It was a much less frightening entrance into a family than the physical one had been a week earlier, that’s for sure.  :)  (It also got me completely hooked on the old rite of Baptism and already scheming to figure out where in the world I’m going to find a priest to do it here again in March, and not feeling very optimistic about the chances.  I mean, starting outside, salting the kid, draping him in a stole to carry him in the Church…verily, it rocketh.)