The Church Mouse Speaks

2006-08-02T15:49:00.000-07:00

The Church Mouse Speaks
August 2, 2006
Happy feast of St Peter Julian Eymard, whose devotion to the Blessed Sacrament led to the founding of 2 orders of priests and 1 order of nuns. He was a busy man. It is also the feast of Eusebius of Vercelli, a bishop, whose interesting life included defending St. Athanasius (not an easy thing to do--this is the man who threatened to punch Arius in the nose at the Council of Nicea. Rumor has it that St. Nicholas actually did punch him, but that's another story.) Eusebius moved more times than an illegal alien running from the INS, but he took the time to sock it to the Arians wherever he went. Old and tired, he finally made it back home to Vercelli, where they were actually glad to see him. His last years were so quiet and peaceful that nothing is known about them.
Big fun at the little house this morning. Bath was running. Phone was ringing (guess who?) Stasi was investigating bath, startled by phone, and fell in. Her considerable girth posed a bit of a challenge for getting out, but she sure didn't want any help. She finally scrambled over the side and fled the bathroom, leaving wet footprints all the way to the dining room table. She was still grooming herself and trying to look casual when I left for work. Bouncer thought the whole thing was hilarious. Stasi was not amused.
If things are active at the little house cat-wise, you should just look at 1405. With Julie and Tori-Ting moving in, the cat population is up to six. Will once had a book entitled Nobody Should Have Six Cats. As I recall, the solution to the six cat problem was adding a seventh. Hmmm.... Anyway, Tori is still Queen of All She Surveys, but Julie has decided she'll simply murder the competition. As she lacks front claws, her threats are missing a certain veracity, and the boys mostly ignore her, which seems to infuriate her even more completely. She whacked Bombay across the face. Now you must remember, this is kitty clawless attacking kitty myopic and cross-eyed. Bombay didn't even bother to hiss. Julie was completely nonplussed. She then attacked Boston, who, feeling that she must desire conflict of some sort, chased her into the bedroom closet. So... Bombay is napping on the bed, Tori is hissing from the top of the bed, Boston is pacing back and forth in front of the closet door, growling quietly, and Julie is doing a fairly good Banshee imitation from inside the closet. Welcome to the cat house!
Squeak! Ma

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

2006-06-27T13:27:00.000-07:00

The Church Mouse Speaks
Feast of St. Cyril of Alexandria
Cyril, Archbishop of Alexandria and Doctor of the Church, who died in A.D. 444, was a really cranky guy. He is perhaps best known for his peppery writings against Nestorius, with whom he was arrested on his way to the Council of Ephesus (an early case of election-rigging . . . Nestorius' party figured if they couldn't get to Ephesus in time, neither would Cyril) but over whom orthodoxy ultimately triumphed. Nestorius "retired to the Egyptian desert."
Stasi and Bouncer are getting along much better than Cyril and Nestorius. They play a game that reminds me of Winnie-the-Pooh. Remember when Pooh and Piglet were walking around and around the tree with Tigger in it, because they didn't know it was Tigger, and Pooh thought it might be a Jagular, and you have to be very careful of Jagualrs, because they drop on you? Well, Stasi positions herself on the dining room table with one paw hanging over the edge in tatalizing fashion. Bouncer circles the table, going faster and faster, until Stasi does her Jagular imitation and drops on him. Ooof! The next game leads me to believe at least one cat is a Terry Pratchet fan, because it looks very much like the game described in his novels as "Chase My Neighbor Up the Passage". This game managed to knock a large clock off a table. The next game was "Hide and Maybe She Won't Seek." I hope with all this running around they may both lose a little weight. Squeak! Ma

February 15, 2006

2006-02-15T14:36:00.000-08:00

Happy day after the feast of Saints Cyril and Methodius! Happy Birthday to Mamma Janet in heaven! Happy birthday to Jean Donohoe! Happy birthday to Our Liz, tomorrow! Whew! By the way, Chandler Children, your Grandparents' wedding anniversary is the 19th, and this'll be the first with Grandma on earth and Grandpa in heaven. You might just give her a call or something. Aunt Pat should be with her by then, which will help enormously . . . and Grandma's birthday is February 26th. I know you all remembered, but I just wanted to remind you. Happy belated birthday to Will, who was born February 6th. Many wonderful people were born in February. Quite an accomplishment for such a short month. And in the "how old do you feel" department: Michael Fink is getting married on Saturday at Sacred Heart. Whoa. I think I'll go chug some Geritol now. It is not made with soybeans.
Squeak! Ma

January 17, 2006

2006-01-16T14:28:00.000-08:00

Happy day before the feast of St. Anthony, Abbott, patron saint of animals along with St. Francis Assisi and hermit extraordinaire. I have placed myself under his patronage. The grandcats and I are having great fun, unrolling thusly: Day one, evening: What cats? I don't see any cats! O wait, that grey lump halfway under the couch is probably Stasi... Day two early morning: Sticky appears, demanding breakfast. The grey lump turns around, showing eyes and an ear-and-a-half. It is indeed Stasi. Day three, about midnight: I have a vision in the night of a huge black and white cat eating the leaves on the plant beside the bed. On waking, I check the plant, which has indeed been munched upon. So Smudge is here somewhere . . .Day four: Bouncer comes out of hiding (he's been behind the stove in the back room this whole time, emerging only to snatch a mouthful of food, complain about the fact that somebody dropped the feline Mafia off at his house without consulting him, and retreat again). Sticky sees him and hisses. Bouncer flees ignominiously. In the evening, which is quite cold, Sticky decides a warm bed is the better part of valor, and crawls in with me. Stasi, assuming that it must be at least partially safe and probably warm, snuggles at the foot of the bed. Smudge makes another foray upon the bedside plant. I move the plant. Frustrated, Smudge nuzzles under the covers, where Sticky bats his nose. Smudge flees. Day five: Smudge and Bouncer are now hanging out in the back room. Smudge prefers the IAMS dry food to the Purina dry food, so his dashes to eat are further down the hall. Stasi has discovered the upholstered chair by the window in the dining room, and spends her day looking out on the alley. Sticky wants the blinds up and the curtains pulled aside, thank you very much. Smudge takes a bite of rosemary and decides he doesn't like it much. Day six: There has been a certain amount of neutral nose-sniffing. Bouncer decides to do what he enjoys doing while I'm taking a bath, which is balance precariously on the edge of the tub and swish his paw in the water. Sticky decides to do the same thing. Within a few seconds, they catch sight of each other. Lots of hissing, some scrabbling, but, thank goodness I have no feline company in the bathtub. Liz, I hope you are having lots of fun, because I certainly am!
Squeak
Ma

The Church Mouse Speaks

2005-11-11T15:58:00.000-08:00

Friday, November 11, 2005
Happy Feast of St. Martin of Tours, a very famous soldier-turned-monastic! Coincidentally, happy Veteran's Day! Peeg, I hope you are feeling better.
Linus and I had a horrifying experience last Tuesday, when we were attacked by a pit bull. Linus' leg was chewed to hamburger. The owner kept saying "I don't understand it, she's such a sweet dog!" At least he's paying the vet bills. The up side of this is that now we've got a vet in Birmingham, not far from the little house, and Linus, Lord love him, seems basically unaffected, personality-wise. He just keeps looking at his leg, which is completely encased in a huge bandage. The looks seems to say "This hurts. Why?" Fortunately he can still get into the cab of the truck, which means our routine is relatively the same, except that we're seeing quite a lot of the Birmingham vet. The attack was truly terrifying: the dog shot out of nowhere, no barking, no growling, no warning, and latched on to Linus' leg, then started working up the leg like a demented sewing machine. She was frighteningly close to his neck when her owner managed to pull her off. The leg looks like stitched together hamburger. That's as close to a Pit Bull as I everwant to be again. Okey dokey. Choir Camp is about to begin, so I'm off to work on Vivaldi. Liam, you'd enjoy this piece, it has lots of violins.
Squeak! Ma

October 11, 2005

2005-10-11T14:10:00.000-07:00

Happy day after Stacy and Peeg's wedding anniversary! Happy day after Columbus day (observed), and happy day before Yom Kippur! Many wonderful things have happened since August. In no particular order: I got to spend almost a week with the most fabulous baby in the whole world, who is now nine months old, motorized, and curious about everything. Also eating food and speaking words. I don't know about Liam, but I had a wonderful time.
Last weekend was the Fiddlers' Convention. Sadly, Will, Meghan, Liam, Liz, Josh, and Nick were unable to attend, and were greatly missed, but those of the old guard who could be there had a good time. Joey brought Patrick, now six, whose resemblance to my brother Patrick at the same age is amazing. Maybe it's the name. He's quite an artistic talent. It's nice to be able to look at a six-year-old's art work and identify, say, Tweety Bird, instead of offering that old chestnut "how nice, why don't you tell me about it..." (Of course, there are certain artists, say, Jackson Pollack, to whom I'd say that anyway.) Jamie and Allie were there, Dave and Donna got formally engaged(according to Jerry, I did not actually see this happen), Dave entered the mandolin contest, Joey and Joseph did a really terrific rendition of "Roll in my Sweet Baby's Arms". The hit of the evening for me was a youngster who couldn't have been more than eight, who accompanied himself on the banjo while singing one of those mournful songs about "do her blue eyes miss my manly arms around her" with great feeling. (This is, I think, the same kid who sang "Big Rock Candy Mountain" without accompaniament last year, and forgot the words.) October second was the annual blessing of the animals in honor of St. Francis of Assisi, and the Bishop was out of town, so Fr. Donohoe agreed to do the blessing. Very sporting of him, considering...at least this year there were no snakes. One man brought two Great Danes, there was a Redbone hound howling through the whole thing, and two little girls, whose mother always dresses them beautifully, brought pet hamsters which matched their hair. Yep, the little blonde had a golden hamster and the brunette had a brown teddy bear hamster. There were also several hermit crabs. At some point during the blessing of individual pets, Father got distracted and started saying "I baptize you" instead of "I bless you." Steve insists he wants a baptismal certificate for Frances. The bishop, when he returned, apparently called Father Donohoe "Father pooper scooper"and in retaliation, Father Donohoe claimed to have cleaned up the front yard of the rectory with some pointy hats he found in the sacristy. The bishop's comeback was something to the effect of "I may be retired, Donohoe, but I'm not dead!"
Squeak!
Ma

July 13,2005

2005-07-13T13:32:00.000-07:00

Happy Feast of St. Henry, a man worthy of admiration for many reasons: he was a Holy Roman Emperor, he drove Boleslaus I of Poland (murderer of Good King Wenceslaus, also his brother) out of Bavaria(his home country), and he maried a lovely woman named Kunigunda (try to say that three times fast...)! Why is it that (in the immortal words of a college buddy) the Good Samaritan always gets it in the end? Bouncer is currently undergoing surgery. Supposedly simple surgery. Guess again. The little monster is a cryptochord, which means major surgery to have him neutered. Not only is this surgery far more expensive and extensive, but it requires a period of convalescence and a return to the Vet to have staples removed. I wonder if he'll still be speaking to me when I pick him up? Since the alternative is continuing to be scent-marked in the middle of the night, que sera sera. Jerry is at this very moment winging his way to Japan, where I hope a marvelous time will be had by all. Kudos to Liz, who got up at 5:00 am to take her Daddy to the airport. Jerry tells me I'm supposed to pick him up. I hope he remembers to tell me when! On the Greyhound front, Linus has figured out how to get in the bath tub at the Little House without turning on the water. That's where I found him yesterday, looking morose. He really does dislike thunder.
Squeak!
Ma

June 29, 2005

2005-06-29T13:50:00.000-07:00

So, here we are at the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul; two guys who didn't like each other much, but who got lumped together on a feastday because they were both so important to the early church. And happy anniversary to Josh and Liz, who were married on this day three years (Three years?!) ago. I am about to brave the wonderful world of 280 to go check on the cats. Summer is here. Yuck. I don't like heat. At all. There have been so many deaths in both parishes lately that Jerry has started calling me "The Funeral Singer". Okay. NOBODY DIES FOR AWHILE...GOT THAT? Sorry. I feel better now. And speaking of feeling better, Stacy, I'm glad the kidney stone episode resolved itself successfully. Don't believe people who tell you it's like the pain of childbirth, especially when these people have never given birth to children. What do they know? I've never seen a cat pass six kidney stones, but I have seen more than one give birth to six kittens and then saunter nonchalantly to her dish of kitty crunchies and chow down, which has to tell you something. What, I won't speculate; but something!
Okay. 280, here I come.
Squeak!
Ma

February 23, 2005

2005-02-23T14:59:00.000-08:00

Happy day after the Solemnity of the Chair of Peter, one of the few time we get to pray the Gloria in Lent. I always wondered if that was because St. Peter was so glad to finally get to sit down. . . many things have happened since the feast of St. Hilary. In fairly chronological order: William had his 31st birthday, and, what a difference a year makes, Liam (the most spectacular baby in the whole world) was baptized on that same day. A true Catholic neophyte, he screamed all through the homily. As did I, only internally. Don't ask me to "share" with my pewmate, especially when the concept obviously makes my pewmate as uncomfortable as it makes me. And the Patriots won the Super Bowl, which is neither here nor there. On Ash Wednesday Jerry had hernia surgery. He is recovering with his usual speed, which is to say, not very rapidly. The staples came out yesterday, which may help. He was horrified to discover that they were actual staples. That Sunday was the Rite of Election. The Cathedral was packed to the rafters for both services. The Bishop was 17 minutes late for the first one, as he had underestimated the driving time from Winfield, where he was dedicating an altar, to Birmingham. He made the trip in slightly under an hour. I'm not sure of the miles covered in that time, but when he made that statement, several people made the sign of the cross. Elizabeth had her 26th birthday and we celebrated on Saturday by taking our annual shopping trip. We are so dedicated, we didn't ever eat lunch. We just shopped. She found a few items, and I found some shoes, which is becoming increasingly unlikely. You statisticians out there, are American women's feet growing larger? A six is about the smallest one can find these days. Saturday was also the 62nd anniversary of my parents' marriage. Sunday we went out to eat to celebrate Liz's birthday: Jerry, me, Joseph, Nick, Liz, and Josh. It was great fun, especially since one of her gifts was a pile of plastic dog poop, which naturally kept turning up in odd places...
That's about it from Lake Wobegone. I think Bouncer's mouse has moved outside for the spring and summer. Bouncer is distraught. A distraught Bouncer is hard on the houseplants.
Squeak!
Ma

January 13, 2005

2005-01-13T15:08:00.000-08:00

Happy feast of St. Hilary: a married man, a bishop, and they guy who told Martin of Tours to Go Found A Monastery! The Benedictine priest who is saying Mass at the Cathedral while Fr. Donohoe is in Scotland celebrated St. Hilary's mass in honor of Abbot Hilary of blessed memory. Probably the only people at Mass who had memories of Abbot Hilary were he and I. Hilary was a huge man from New Orleans, had that rich, thick accent, and also an interesting set of priorites. Fr. Donohoe tell the story of a visit from Abbot Hilary during which he was being served pancakes for breakfast, happened to glance out the window and notice that his car had been stolen, and calmly finished breakfast before reporting the theft. First things first, after all!
Bouncer (aka The Little Orange Kitten Who Isn't So Little Anymore) is doing admirable work convincing the mice in the Little House to stay in the walls and the cabinets, rather than running track over my face in the wee hours of the morning. He is currently fighting a running battle with a very clever, or very brave, or both, mouse which hangs out under the water heater in the kitchen. The mouse makes noises, or sticks his head out, and Bouncer bashes his nose on the heater. I think I can hear mouse chuckles. Bouncer's brush with death in the canine's incisors when he was but a wee kitten has left him with a gimpy back leg, so his attack method seriously lacks grace and coordination. More mouse chuckles. Oh well, as long as they stay out of the bedroom. . .
Squeak! Ma

January 6, 2005

2005-01-06T15:13:00.000-08:00

Happy Traditional Epiphany! Happy (good grief) New Year! Rejoice with Linus that the kids up the street have finally run out of fireworks! What a happy holiday...family, food, fun...and a visit to the most fabulous grandchild ever! Thanks to Will and Meghan and Liam (and Leibten) for their fabulous hospitality. I had forgotten how perfectly a baby fits under one's chin. Visiting, of course, sparked many random thoughts and reminiscences regarding babies, so here they are, in no particular order, and with no promise there won't be more later, as things bubble to the surface from the LaBrea Tar Pits of my mind.
To babies, life is all new. Imagine emerging from a perfectly comfortable, completely climate controlled, soothing sounding and motion filled place where you were never hungry or thirsty, into the world as we know it . . .and then having to get to know it. No wonder they cry. "No language but a cry" may be wonderful poetry, but it's very frustrating communication. Plus, wer are just about the only culture that expects newborns to lie down and sleep in a dark, quiet room separate from us. The front carrier, back carrier, or side sling can wind up as mother and baby's best friend. Sometimes a warm bath (that's both of you in the big tub) is a glorious experience which relaxes you both, especially when one of you has been crying long enough so that they other feels about to start . . .movement can be good, too . . .rocking chair, baby swing, rocking seat, cradle, hot water bottle on parental lap...some babies, I'm told, love a ride in the car. All babies of my immediate acquaintance hated their car seats passionately, which closed off that option, but a stroll around the neighborhood helped sometimes.
And this digestion business! Whatever happened to the connection through the navel? wonders baby. Now we've got to figure out how to coax nourishment from breast or bottle, and swallow it, and figure out when we're full. Comfort is a good sign, but the technique, as is inevitable, involves swallowing air, and one is introduced to gas pains. One cries, swallows more air . . . better nursing technique, which evolves with time, solves some problems (although I've often wondered if my friend Donald, who could snort milk out his nose with no apparant ill effects in the second grade, was breast fed...) Meanwhile, we're back to no language but a cry. Ouch. ( Random Tip: the colicky baby tends to turn very red in the face while pulling legs in toward the body, then violently extending legs outward. This makes baby difficult to hold . . . and person trying to comfort baby even more frustrated . . . )
Then, there's sensitivity to what's in the milk. Food diary can help here, if Mother is willing to write down every morsel she puts in her mouth for a couple of weeks and look for some correlation between, say, onions on Monday and crying on Wednesday. Since it takes different maternal metabolisms differing periods of time to process food into milk, this can be tricky. Commonest offenders are onions, garlic, peppers, dairy products, wheat, eggs, and corn. Frequently, Mother can guess, because whateveritis upsets (or used to upset) her, too. Some folks swear by a dropper or two full of camomile tea, peppermint tea, and/or ginger tea to help a baby with an upset stomach. Watch out for camomile if you're allergic to ragweed, though. I learned the hard way that it's in the same family!
Look for more ramblings at a later date. . .
Squeak!
Ma

December 12, 2004

2004-12-12T13:38:00.000-08:00

Happy Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Gaudete Sunday (AKA pink candle Sunday) and Kirkin' o' Tartans; not the mention the PSR (Parish School of Religion) Christmas Pageant, complete with black eyed angels (she got in a fight with her sister over who got to wear the wings with the pearls on them), and an anorexic Santa (even two pillows didn't do much to enlarge Ron Zielinski). "Paw-paw, dat you?" loudly inquired his two-year-old Grandson. Many toddler parents will have much explaining to do in the car on the way home. Outside the Cathedral was an amazing array of Christmas bedlam: the usual suspects in bathrobes with shepherd crooks, the bright eyed (or black eyed) angels, a troop of harried parents, a bagpiper, and a tardy member of the Bach string quartet with a bright red hard- shell cello case, knocking small angels out of the way to get up the steps (and away from the piper; the string players were sure the pipes would knock their instruments out of tune). I think the Hispanic community felt a little overwhelmed, especially by all the men in kilts. Definitely not a part of their common heritage, but they bravely bore their red and green candles forward. What a Sunday! It was fun singing the Bach Advent cantata with the strings, and the Handel even went fairly well (no soprano was seriously injured in the higher registers...we had come to the point where when the music ascended to the stratosphere during practice that's what we did: point! Steve was not amused.) Then Liz and I had lunch with the soprano section before our section rehearsal. (At which lunch, several folks agreed that some men just should not wear kilts . . . and some men should wear them all the time. Whew!) Liz alerted me to the fact that there are new pictures posted on Liam's blog. He's still the cutest baby ever! Thanks, Will . . . and yes, it was that Courtney Cory. She's still redhead and cute, but probably looks somewhat different from what you remember. Okay, time to go practice for Vespers. 'Tis the Season!
Squeak! Ma

November 30, 2004

2004-11-30T10:22:00.000-08:00

Happy feast of St. Andrew! This has been a very eventful few days. Taking things chronologically: Wednesday morning, drove home in the aftermath of a tornado, to discover that same tornado had removed the roof and one wall from the Veterinary Clinic where Linus was scheduled to board. All animals and people were unharmed. However, this meant a change of plan for Linus. Thanks to Will who called the Hampton and convinced them to make an exception to the no pet policy, Meghan who was willing to accept another animal in her backyard at a time when the last thing she needed was more confusion in her life, and especially to Joe, who let a large dog ride in the backseat of his brand new car all the way from Anniston to Anderson, that worked out. Celebrating Thanksgiving in Anderson was really wonderful. Great food, great company, and Nick and I even got to cook outdoors; though there is some question as to whether we smoked the turkey or the turkey smoked us. Liz and Josh, Peeg and Stacy, you were missed . . . Friday was the annual Chandler football game. I had a chance to talk with Meghan while the "boys" got muddy and wet. Fortunately no one got hurt this year. Friday afternoon we drove home. Saturday was fairly uneventful. Jerry, Linus, and I were tired, but happy. Linus napped with extra enthusiasum. Saturday at Mass, Courtney Cory's baby was baptized. Cortney was a regular at my library storytime, many moons ago. And speaking of moons, the full moon cast its expected spell (expected by Meghan's mom and dad, anyway). At 5:30 Sunday morning Will called to say Meghan was in labor. Back in the car. Back to Anderson. Lebchen was very glad to see Linus again so soon. All Chandlers and Hobbs were even more glad to see William Arthur Luedders Chandler who is, of course, the most wonderful baby ever! and who had the amazingly excellent timing to arrive on his Grandfather Hobbs' birthday. (This is a birthday gift that will be hard to top!) Meghan, Will, and Liam are all doing well. This morning, Mother (AKA Great-Grandmother Taffee) called to let me know that Uncle Arthur had died, just a few days short of his 97th birthday, and shortly after his namesake made his arrival. Liam now has an extra special friend in heaven, and Uncle Arthur's name continues on earth, which was one of his dearest wishes.
Squeak! Ma

November 23,2004

2004-11-23T14:58:00.000-08:00

Happy nearly Thanksgiving to everybody! I am looking muchly forward to being in Anderson. I am even looking forward to the trip, since someone else is driving. (thanks, Joe!) I've had enough freeway for awhile. Try eight hours stuck on I 20. Yup. I left Birmingham at 8:00 last Friday morning, heading for Anniston and a 12 noon storytime. Figuring on plenty of time to shower and change in Anniston, I slurped two cups of coffee, slid into grubbies, and got on the road. The coffee I later regretted. Around Cook Springs everything stopped. Completely. For hours. My phone also decided that this was a dead zone and would neither make nor receive calls. A nice trucker, who was out wandering around, loaned me his phone, and while I was using in, lay down on the white stripe beside the truck. I must have looked quizzical. He said "It's okay ma'am, I've always wanted to do that." Then there was the youngster running up and down saying "It's the first time I've driven an 18 wheeler, and I'll be hitting Atlanta traffic on Friday afternoon!!" I hate to see a grown man cry. It turned into a giant block party. Truckers in Harley jackets and leather talking to soccer moms watching a guy walk his poodle up and down the median. They had matching hair bows. I heard the same joke six times. If there had been a police person of any persusaion anywhere around, they could have funded the county schools for a year on money raised from ticketing the steady traffic in the emergency lane, until that froze solid too. Finally we began inching along. I took the Cook Springs exit and headed back toward Moody, feeling clever. I'd just pick up 78 at Leeds and head on home. Right. Me and a bazillion other clever people. Three hours of stuck on 78! I finally turned around in someone's driveway and headed back to Birmingham, arriving there at about 4:3o. I really don't like I20. At all!
Squeak! Ma

All Saints

2004-11-01T13:19:00.000-08:00

Happy solemnity of All Saints! We had not a single trick-or-treater, either night. The city of Anniston passed some sort of ordinance that trick-or-treating had to happen on Saturday evening, 'cause we obviously couldn't have good little Christians celebrating this pagan holiday on a Sunday! (I think this boiled down to Glenwood Terrace residents getting hit for candy both nights.)
I am in Birmingham today, with Linus asleep on the couch in my office. (Hey, pooping and peeing all up and down the hall is hard work!) Jerry has left for Sweden, I think. . . how did those nasty terrorists know he was headed that way? (When I heard that there was an alert for Scandaniva and the Balkans this morning, I thought Carl Castle was part of an elaborate joke. Apparently not.)
The house still smells, but not as bad. I remember a commercial in San Antonio in which a gentleman took a sledge hammer to his car. I remember this especially fondly when I look at the stove.
Squeak! Ma

October 26,2004

2004-10-26T14:39:00.000-07:00

I am glad Hamzilla is a hit. Somehow, a dancing hamster dressed as Godzilla, carrying a bus and a phone booth just called Geoffrey's name. In Japanese. We had a bit of excitement at the old homestead yesterday, due to the fact that the stove is demon-possessed. Anybody know a Whirlpool exorcist? I left a pot of chicken soup simmering on low and got a panicked phone call from Jerry at about 3:00 pm, asking me if I meant to burn down the house and assuring me that, if this had been my intent, the nefarious plot had failed; however, the pan was unsalvagable, the dog was absolutely freaked, and the house smelled like smoke and terrified dog poop. He (Jerry) did not exaggerate. The burner must have somehow transposed itself to high, even though it still said low when Jerry got to it. (Believe me, he checked!) The house still smells awful. Poor Linus. He was standing by the door whimpering. I assured Jerry that it was Linus' intention to grab the smoking pot in his mouth and run with it out the door, but firstly the door was closed and he hasn't mastered the opposeable thumb thing yet, and secondly, I'm sure his greyhound mother instructed him to stay away from smoking pot. I bought a large sized crock pot for cooking things which simmer. I'm tempted to turn the stove into a planter, but it would probably incinerate the plants.
Squeak! Ma

October 21, 2004

2004-10-21T09:10:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, Geoffrey! (I'd put it in Japanese, but I don't know how). Japan. Yoko Ono. Well! Re: the job interview: it is a well-known fact that people with Catholic Mothers make the most maniacal fundamentalists. I am not sure why this is so. But it is. We have had to put a raving fundamentalist (who had a Roman Catholic Mother) on an independent course of study, as he was trying to proselytize for his particular brand of Pentacostalism in the back of the RCIA class. Which is huge - - about 70 to 75 a session, sponsors included --- and a VERY intelligent bunch of folks. Being chronologically challenged, I made myself giant flash cards with important date and stuck them all over the walls for my lecture "Saints and Sinners, the Catholic Way of Life" (you can go ahead and laugh, it's perfectly OK) and three of the guys actually said "Oh, good, I love history!" and started writing stuff down. Yikes! I think it went well, that is to say, nobody threw anything or got up and left. The yellow kitten has gone to live with a 250 lb. truck driver, who called the other day wanting to know if there was such a thing as a kitty pacifier. Apparently the beastie sucks on his neck at night and he's having difficulty explaining kitty hickies to his buddies. The other three are still on the patio, and in the cute stage. I call it the "Kitten Channel", because it is so entertaining.
Liz and I attended a baby shower for Meghan last Saturday. Meghan is very beautiful. Baby Liam got lots of goodies. Cindy is an even more over-the-top grandma than I am. This will be a greatly loved baby, that's for sure.

October 5, 2004

2004-10-05T15:22:00.000-07:00

Happy feast of St. Bruno! A wonderful weekend. The Fiddlers Convention in Athens, lovely weather and old friends. Joey was there with updated pictures of the kids...who are now young adults. Joey himself does not age. He's amazing. Joe performed with a rotten cold, which gave his voice a lovely "Johnny Cash" gravelly quality. Joey backed us both up. Fun! Saw Mike Norred with a child I can only assume was a grandchild. A grandchild! What a concept! Dave and Jamie and Allie were in attendance. Nick and Ashley, too. Got to meet Dave's birth mother, a lovely lady, and renew acquaintance with Elaine and Oliver Clark, who have retired, sort of. With all this grandchild/retirement among my chronological peers, I'm beginning to feel ancient! Had a nice Sunday afternoon with Liz, after returning Smudge. Smudge does not enjoy riding in a car. He may never speak to me again, but he left me plenty of hair to remember him by. Due to the race at Talledega, had to forego the blessing of the animals by Bishop Foley on Sunday afternoon. As his car is now in the parking lot, I assume he survived uneaten. When I left, the sacristan was arguing with the music director about whether or not to use holy water. Somehow, throwing water at a bunch of cats and dogs, not to mention birds, did not sound like a really sound idea...I wonder who won?
Squeak!
Ma

Trying again

2004-08-31T07:56:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the second attempt. Blogger isn't sure what happened to the first one, which only allowed me to post one time and then refused to recognize me ever again. Sort of like being back in professional theater. The big church new this week is the visit of Cardinal Tauarn to Birmingham (as the keeper of the Vatican Secret Archives and a reference Librarian at the Vatican Library, he isn't exactly a household name). He's saying the 12:10 Mass at the Cathedral on Friday. I hope he speaks English.
Another wee orphan has entered our lives. Small, yellow, very loud, christened Leo. So far, so good. Eye infection and upper respiratory infection responding well to antibiotics. Now I've just got to find another person who really needs a kitten...the two previous orphans are doing well in their new home.
There was a hint of Fall in the air this morning. Hooray! (and squeak) Ma