Tomorrow is to be a national day of prayer and fasting in reparation for the desecration of the Eucharist by a Minnesota professor.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Please get the word out, let Catholics know
Tomorrow is to be a national day of prayer and fasting in reparation for the desecration of the Eucharist by a Minnesota professor.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Online games for the kids that even I love
No kidding, I really love these games, and I hate the very idea of my kids playing on the computer. But these are different. The music is pleasant to listen to and the graphics are pretty, and the games themselves quite gentle and sweet. Take a look! I'm going to put them on my sidebar under the "Just for Fun" links.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Why We Home School
When I began home schooling I read somewhere that it was a good idea to write down your reasons for home schooling. "There will be days," the book advised, "when you will need to review this list so as not to be tempted to throw in the towel and give up." Well, today was one of those days [see rant in post below]. Here is the list I made years ago, and it is framed and hung up in our school room.
Why We Home School
To raise up souls for Heaven, not for Harvard,
To teach in a way we would like to have been taught,
To be truly involved in our children's education,
To preserve their purity and innocence,
To teach them to resist the spirit of the World,
To protect them from physical dangers and keep them near,
To shield them from negative peer pressure,
To instill in them a love of learning and of Holy Mother Church,
Because we know our children and can individualize their curriculum,
Because God has entrusted them to us, bodies and souls, and we have a grave obligation to Him and to them,
Because they are the future of humanity and of the Church,
Because we love them beyond measure.
This is why we home school:
To teach in a way we would like to have been taught,
To be truly involved in our children's education,
To preserve their purity and innocence,
To teach them to resist the spirit of the World,
To protect them from physical dangers and keep them near,
To shield them from negative peer pressure,
To instill in them a love of learning and of Holy Mother Church,
Because we know our children and can individualize their curriculum,
Because God has entrusted them to us, bodies and souls, and we have a grave obligation to Him and to them,
Because they are the future of humanity and of the Church,
Because we love them beyond measure.
This is why we home school:
I am having a homeschooling NIGHTMARE
It is just one of those days, I guess. I tried to start the day well, made buttermilk pancakes for breakfast so that Monday wouldn't seem so yucky for the kids, started school only a few minutes late, but Number One Son is just being so sassy and obstinate this morning, and I am a little more short-tempered than usual. The two of us together are like fire and gunpowder today. I've had to administer corporal punishment (something I detest doing, but I realize there are times when nothing else gets the message through) and I am tired of being talked at like I'm my seven year-old's equal).
Sometimes my kids make me feel like I've completely failed as a Catholic parent. Why don't my kids embody the principles of duty, obedience, respect? I don't blame them for grumbling about work they don't like, as I'm not very good about "cheerful giving" either when it comes to chores I dislike, but I do them out of duty anyway. I show respect to others...so why are they not learning respect in turn? Am I a pushover?
Anyway, after screaming, busting a couple of pencils and holding back tears, I came in here (the office) and locked the door to vent. My saintly daughter--the one who keeps me from feeling like I'm a complete flop--is trying to hold everything together out there. I'd better go and save her.
Later: Okay, we got past the schooling, and actually everything went a lot better after lunch. I don't know why, but after The Boy and I have it out, things usually improve. He worked diligently and with less distractedness this afternoon.
Tomorrow can only be better. Unless we all come down with an intestinal virus or something.
Sometimes my kids make me feel like I've completely failed as a Catholic parent. Why don't my kids embody the principles of duty, obedience, respect? I don't blame them for grumbling about work they don't like, as I'm not very good about "cheerful giving" either when it comes to chores I dislike, but I do them out of duty anyway. I show respect to others...so why are they not learning respect in turn? Am I a pushover?
Anyway, after screaming, busting a couple of pencils and holding back tears, I came in here (the office) and locked the door to vent. My saintly daughter--the one who keeps me from feeling like I'm a complete flop--is trying to hold everything together out there. I'd better go and save her.
Later: Okay, we got past the schooling, and actually everything went a lot better after lunch. I don't know why, but after The Boy and I have it out, things usually improve. He worked diligently and with less distractedness this afternoon.
Tomorrow can only be better. Unless we all come down with an intestinal virus or something.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Congratulations, Abbie Clare, on your baptism!
Abbie was born on Wednesday 23 July 2008 and baptized yesterday, Saturday 26 July 2008, the Feast of Sts. Joachim and Anna, at Sacred Heart Catholic Church in Russellville, KY. She is the 9th child and 6th daughter of my friends Cindy and Dale. Isn't she pretty?
Your prayers, please, for a wonderful family
I don't know if any of you are familiar with the music or the story of John Christopher Knight and his family. Many years ago he had a high paying job in the city and all the things that come with it. And he felt empty. In a fit of inspiration he told his wife that he wanted to leave it all and move to the country and live without electricity and farm the land. She thought he'd lost his mind. But after some time and discussion, they uprooted themselves and found a piece of land near the Mennonite community out here, so they are practically neighbors of ours.Some years later J.C.K. and some of his boys were at a Border Collie trials and were playing music to entertain themselves. Someone heard it and asked if they'd like to make a CD. The rest is history. You can hear some of their music and see their family here.
Although they have no computer, they have friends who do, and I just received this email:
Hello friends, We very much desire your prayers. Laura, my wife, having not felt well for sometime, recently decided to see an Oncologist to confirm her suspicions. They did. She has a 7 cm tumor which has taken over the cervix and shows cancer in multiple lymph nodes in the pelvic and mid-abdomen area. No sign of metastases to any organs at present. They wanted to start external & internal radiation for 4 wks combined with Chemo for 6 wks. They offer 50 % max survival rate with possible lifelong serious side effects, and 40 % of cancer returning in 2 yrs.
After much prayer and research Laura has decided to forgo orthodox treatment. Myself and our children support her in this. She feels seeking the Lords will for every area of her life and using plant based & natural treatments that don't weaken and disable her God given immune system is her best chance for long term cure.
As our family enters this chapter of our life, which we know will work for our good in the long run, we have a specific prayer we desire others present to God on our behalf:
Ask the LORD, our Creator;
- to use this illness to make Laura, myself an our children more like Jesus.
- Pray for God's will be done. We hope Laura's health being restored is part of HIS will, but we completely trust Him, and are at peace with HIS decision.
- Pray for God to provide the finances for us to deal with this. The methods we have chosen cost only a fraction of Orthodox treatment, but expenses exceed our normal budget. We know God supplies all our needs and will meet these as well.
* If anyone wants to send Laura an encouraging card, with a nice scripture or something, our address is:
Knight, 298 Jack Towe Rd., Scottsville, KY 42164
With humbled hearts,
jck & family
Saturday, July 26, 2008
"Jersey" is to "Cow"...
...what "Arabian" is to "Horse".
Is it any wonder that I am in love with my beauteous bovines?
Is it any wonder that I am in love with my beauteous bovines?
Total Consecration to Mary According to St. Louis Marie de Montfort
Is anyone out there doing this right now in preparation for the Feast of the Assumption? This is my 7th--or maybe 8th--year doing it. I really do dread it near the end when the litanies and prayers become so long, mainly because my time for prayer is 4:30 a.m. (I have to get up and make Bret's lunch by 5:30, and Gabe is always up by then anyway), and the litanies just lull me back to sleep. But I love my Mother and want to love her more, and so I plod along through it every year...
Made it through week 1
And it wasn't so bad, really. I spent a lot of time trying to get the little guys to play quietly or in some other part of the house, but we managed and it didn't take me all day as I had assumed it would. Of course part of that has to do with the fact that Una is still in the review chapters of Saxon Math...once it gets tougher she needs me to sit nearby if math is not to be a two-and-a-half hour affair.
We ended the week with spelling tests, art appreciation (we looked at religious and secular work by Bartolome Murillo) and crafts (the kids made cards for my friend Cindy, who just had her 9th child on Wednesday).
Friday, July 25, 2008
Vatican Approves New English Translation for the Order of the Mass
Although my grievances with the Ordinary Rite are several, one of my chief problems has been with the banal translation of beautiful, scriptural prayers. Now a few changes have been made and approved of by Rome, and I for one am very pleased. Read more about it here.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
If I look at baby pictures, I'm going to cry...
At 45, I often look at my two youngest with a touch of sadness, knowing that they may very well be the last of our babies, and wanting to hang on to every adorable moment. Last night they were just being silly on the sofa together as the family was gathered for the rosary when Adrian came over to my chair and said quietly, "I want to stay little."
"Mommy would like that. But there are many great things about being a big boy," I whispered, trying not to interrupt Bret's recitation. I pulled him into my lap.
"No, I don't want to be a big boy. I want to be a little boy forever."
"But there are so many things big boys can do that you can't. You'll be able to ride the lawnmower. And the four-wheeler." There was a long pause and then a smile.
"Okay. I'll be a big boy. Some day."
As if that wasn't enough to make me weepy and sentimental, the little guy wanted to sleep in our room last night. Bret was on the computer, so I had Adrian climb up into bed beside me. He kept chatting and I kept telling him to be quiet. There was silence for maybe 30 seconds and then: "I love you and Una."
"And Papa?" I asked.
"Yes, and Papa and Sebastian and Gabriel and Dominic and you and Papa and Una."
"And we all love you. We love each other. Sometimes we get mad at one another, but we always love one another."
"Sometimes," he went on, "I'm naughty and you spank me."
"Even then I don't stop loving you, Adrian."
"I know." There was another pause, a fairly long one. Then he said, "Everybody who is in this house loves me."
Oh, baby, you'd better believe it.
"Mommy would like that. But there are many great things about being a big boy," I whispered, trying not to interrupt Bret's recitation. I pulled him into my lap.
"No, I don't want to be a big boy. I want to be a little boy forever."
"But there are so many things big boys can do that you can't. You'll be able to ride the lawnmower. And the four-wheeler." There was a long pause and then a smile.
"Okay. I'll be a big boy. Some day."
As if that wasn't enough to make me weepy and sentimental, the little guy wanted to sleep in our room last night. Bret was on the computer, so I had Adrian climb up into bed beside me. He kept chatting and I kept telling him to be quiet. There was silence for maybe 30 seconds and then: "I love you and Una."
"And Papa?" I asked.
"Yes, and Papa and Sebastian and Gabriel and Dominic and you and Papa and Una."
"And we all love you. We love each other. Sometimes we get mad at one another, but we always love one another."
"Sometimes," he went on, "I'm naughty and you spank me."
"Even then I don't stop loving you, Adrian."
"I know." There was another pause, a fairly long one. Then he said, "Everybody who is in this house loves me."
Oh, baby, you'd better believe it.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
It's called...therapy.
This was something I came across in the Southern Farm and Land Almanac, a little free magazine that has information on events and planting times and such for our area. It is subtitled, 15 Ways to Maintain A Healthy Level of Insanity, and there is no credit to the author, who perhaps wishes to remain anonymous. I dedicate it to the Carolina Cannonball, who works at a job she is less than fond of and who is capable of pulling off at least 10 of the 15 Ways below.
1. At lunchtime, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.
2. Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice.
3. Every time someone asks you to do something, ask them if they want fries with that.
4. Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "In".
5. Put decaf in the coffeemaker for 3 weeks. Once everyone is over his or her caffeine addiction, switch to espresso.
6. In the memo field of all your checks write, "For smuggling diamonds."
7. Order a "diet water" whenever you go out to eat. Keep a straight face.
8. Specify that your drive-through order is "To go."
9. As often as possible, skip rather than walk.
10. Put mosquito netting around your work area and play tropical sounds all day.
11. Five days in advance, tell your friends that you can't attend their party because you're not in the mood.
12. Have your co-workers address you by your "wrestling name", Rock Bottom.
13. When the money comes out of the ATM, scream "I won! I won!"
14. When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, yelling "Run for your lives! They're loose!"
15. Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go."
1. At lunchtime, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.
2. Page yourself over the intercom. Don't disguise your voice.
3. Every time someone asks you to do something, ask them if they want fries with that.
4. Put your garbage can on your desk and label it "In".
5. Put decaf in the coffeemaker for 3 weeks. Once everyone is over his or her caffeine addiction, switch to espresso.
6. In the memo field of all your checks write, "For smuggling diamonds."
7. Order a "diet water" whenever you go out to eat. Keep a straight face.
8. Specify that your drive-through order is "To go."
9. As often as possible, skip rather than walk.
10. Put mosquito netting around your work area and play tropical sounds all day.
11. Five days in advance, tell your friends that you can't attend their party because you're not in the mood.
12. Have your co-workers address you by your "wrestling name", Rock Bottom.
13. When the money comes out of the ATM, scream "I won! I won!"
14. When leaving the zoo, start running towards the parking lot, yelling "Run for your lives! They're loose!"
15. Tell your children over dinner, "Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go."
Storm
This is what it looked like here at about 11:30 yesterday morning, just before the sky fell on us and the power went out for nearly two hours.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
St. Mary Magdalen
My confirmation patroness. And anyone who knows me knows why. I had sort of a wild youth, and when I went through RCIA and we were all about two weeks from the Easter Vigil and our coming into the Church, the instructors had us think about who we might choose for our patrons. To assist us, they handed us these children's picture books, Saints for Girls and Saints for Boys. I went through the women saints and after each name I kept seeing, "virgin" or "martyr". Until I came to St. Mary Magdalen: after her name it said, "penitent". Bingo!But what I have come to love most about her is that every time you read of her in the Bible, she is almost always at our Lord's feet. And that is where I want to be. Mostly at the foot of the cross, beside the beloved apostle and the Blessed Mother, embracing His feet, as is so often depicted in art.
She had indulged in earthly delights, and even after giving them up she reverted somewhat to the temptation of earthly attachments after her heart-breaking sorrow at the Passion of the Lord, and he rebukes her after his resurrection: "Noli tangere!" "Stop holding on to me." Thus he was telling her that she was becoming attached to Him in the wrong way, in a natural rather than supernatural way. The love He required of her was a spiritual love, a virginal love, the love of the contemplative for the Divine Lover. I have been guilty of that, clinging to brief periods of consolation and feeling despondent at their conclusion, not accepting that God was requiring me to love Him not for what He could give me, but for Who He is.
Dear St. Mary Magdalen, teach us to see clearly the vanity of earthly attachments, and help us to focus our sights and our hearts on the attainment of the eternal, the supernatural, the Divine.
St. Mary Magdalen, pray for us!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Whew!
We made it through the first day of school, although it was a bit hairy with the little guys interrupting and arguing and not wanting to participate in the quiet activities I had picked out for them. And this afternoon I got two apple cakes baked and some apple slices frozen for pie.
Hey, while we're here, would you like to see our school room? It used to be the carport, and it's my favorite room in the house because I designed it. I photographed about 180 degrees because there is nothing much at the other end of the room--it is sort of an entryway/mudroom area. The area on the other side of the bank of cabinets is my bindery/sewing/craft area. The idea is that when the kids are all old enough to need only minimal supervision, I can go there and do some work and still be present to help out when needed.
You can click on the photos to see a larger image.
Hey, while we're here, would you like to see our school room? It used to be the carport, and it's my favorite room in the house because I designed it. I photographed about 180 degrees because there is nothing much at the other end of the room--it is sort of an entryway/mudroom area. The area on the other side of the bank of cabinets is my bindery/sewing/craft area. The idea is that when the kids are all old enough to need only minimal supervision, I can go there and do some work and still be present to help out when needed.
You can click on the photos to see a larger image.
Update on the Chapel of Divine Mercy
Here are the latest photos of the Chapel project at the Fathers of Mercy. Apparently the communion rails are in as well and the pews are being installed, although they've not yet posted photos. The dedication is Au
g
ust 23rd, so they are rea
lly moving 
now.
g
ust 23rd, so they are rea
lly moving 
now.
Gabe steals the show...
This video was done at the picnic for the Feast of the Assumption at the Fathers of Mercy in Auburn, KY back in 2005. The break dancers are two seminarians who came to Kentucky from the Los Angeles area and have become good friends of our family. They brought a bit of urban street culture to our spot in the sticks. The elder of the two, Br. Joseph, will be making his perpetual vows next month.
The little guy who tries to steal the show is my second son, Gabe, who was about 2 1/2 at the time.
Thank you, John, for making the video.
The little guy who tries to steal the show is my second son, Gabe, who was about 2 1/2 at the time.
Thank you, John, for making the video.
Wanna make God Laugh? Tell Him your plans.
I am going to have that emblazoned on a T-shirt or apron, or painted on my bedroom wall one day.
The canning rack Bret picked up for me is too big for my biggest pots, and Wal-Mart was all out of racks. I thought of using old jar rings in the bottom of the pot placed together to raise the jars up, but I'm too new at this to want to experiment. So I'll make some Bavarian Apple Cakes this afternoon and then freeze a few bags of slices. The neighbors have loads more, so I will have my opportunity to learn how to can soon.
Maybe God just thought I'd get all bent out of shape trying to do it on the first day of school...I'm one of those people who has a hard time with flexible scheduling. I tend to be a little to rigid and that has been the toughest thing about schooling at home for me. This is going to be the year I learn flexibility, too, I think.
The canning rack Bret picked up for me is too big for my biggest pots, and Wal-Mart was all out of racks. I thought of using old jar rings in the bottom of the pot placed together to raise the jars up, but I'm too new at this to want to experiment. So I'll make some Bavarian Apple Cakes this afternoon and then freeze a few bags of slices. The neighbors have loads more, so I will have my opportunity to learn how to can soon.
Maybe God just thought I'd get all bent out of shape trying to do it on the first day of school...I'm one of those people who has a hard time with flexible scheduling. I tend to be a little to rigid and that has been the toughest thing about schooling at home for me. This is going to be the year I learn flexibility, too, I think.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Look at all these apples!
I wish they were from our own trees, but it is almost better than that: they are from neighbors who have way more than they want or can use. We have buckets of bruised fruit for the animals and this box, and we can go back for more when we want more. As a token exchange we gave them some pork sausage and sweet cream butter.Bret picked up one of those wonderful hand-crank apple peeler/corer/slicer gizmos from the Mennonite general store, and this week I will be freezing some apple slices and canning applesauce and apple pie filling. I have never canned before (made jam once with my mom, that's about it), so I will be learning something this week I've always wanted to learn. This is the way I always seem to learn, getting tossed into the water and having to learn to swim or just go down.
I just wish the apples had arrived a week ago...we are starting school tomorrow!
The Pig's New Digs
J.P. Has moved from the cage to his pen. It was on the small side for the two fully grown piggies who last resided there, but it is huge for this little guy! He quickly spotted the mud puddle and eased himself into it with deep grunts of pleasure...
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Stuff like this makes me blush...
Youths join pope for lunch, present gifts, including Mickey Mouse hat
By Cindy Wooden
Catholic News Service
SYDNEY, Australia (CNS) -- The 12 young adults who shared lunch July 18 with Pope Benedict XVI also shared with him stories about their lives and their countries.
And they brought him gifts, including handicrafts from their home countries and three CDs of classical music.
Armando Cervantes, the 27-year-old director of youth and young adult ministry for the Diocese of Orange, Calif., presented the pope with a classic from the top tourist destination in his diocese -- Disneyland.
The Mickey Mouse hat, featuring the famous character's big ears, was inscribed "Benedict XVI," Cervantes said, adding that the pope did not try it on, but he was smiling.
Cervantes also gave the pope a copy of the U.S. bishops' Book of Blessings, photos from the pope's April trip to the United States, a California Angels baseball and a little "stress ball."
"The pope was squeezing it, but his assistants took the gifts away quickly," Cervantes said.
The menu for the meal in the rectory of St. Mary's Cathedral included sweet potato and pear soup; chicken, new potatoes and snow peas; and a lemon-and-passion-fruit-meringue pie.
Cervantes, chosen to represent North America at the papal table, said he managed to eat the meal pretty much without looking at it.
"I kept looking up to make sure it was all real and that he (the pope) hadn't disappeared," he said.
Cervantes said the 12 exchanged e-mail addresses and were planning on keeping in touch with each other through their pages on Facebook, a social networking Web site.
Ijeoma Jacinta Igwe, a 25-year-old Nigerian, was still so excited after lunch that she couldn't seem to remember much of anything.
"He asked me so many things about young people and the church," she said.
"I was very emotional and excited," she said. "The joy I have today, I believe will be an endless joy. ... I wished the moment would never end."
The pope sat at the table between Jorgiana Lima de Santana, 26, of Brazil and Cho Wonhyong, 28, of South Korea.
Cho said he told the pope about "young people in the Korean church and their love for Christ and the church and their concern for justice and peace."
The young Korean said sitting next to the pope was not nerve-wracking at all, "it was fantastic. He was very comfortable, so it was not a problem to eat. Everyone was joyful."
Okay, maybe it isn't easy to pick a gift for the pope, but Mickey Mouse ears???
By Cindy Wooden
Catholic News Service
SYDNEY, Australia (CNS) -- The 12 young adults who shared lunch July 18 with Pope Benedict XVI also shared with him stories about their lives and their countries.
And they brought him gifts, including handicrafts from their home countries and three CDs of classical music.
Armando Cervantes, the 27-year-old director of youth and young adult ministry for the Diocese of Orange, Calif., presented the pope with a classic from the top tourist destination in his diocese -- Disneyland.
The Mickey Mouse hat, featuring the famous character's big ears, was inscribed "Benedict XVI," Cervantes said, adding that the pope did not try it on, but he was smiling.
Cervantes also gave the pope a copy of the U.S. bishops' Book of Blessings, photos from the pope's April trip to the United States, a California Angels baseball and a little "stress ball."
"The pope was squeezing it, but his assistants took the gifts away quickly," Cervantes said.
The menu for the meal in the rectory of St. Mary's Cathedral included sweet potato and pear soup; chicken, new potatoes and snow peas; and a lemon-and-passion-fruit-meringue pie.
Cervantes, chosen to represent North America at the papal table, said he managed to eat the meal pretty much without looking at it.
"I kept looking up to make sure it was all real and that he (the pope) hadn't disappeared," he said.
Cervantes said the 12 exchanged e-mail addresses and were planning on keeping in touch with each other through their pages on Facebook, a social networking Web site.
Ijeoma Jacinta Igwe, a 25-year-old Nigerian, was still so excited after lunch that she couldn't seem to remember much of anything.
"He asked me so many things about young people and the church," she said.
"I was very emotional and excited," she said. "The joy I have today, I believe will be an endless joy. ... I wished the moment would never end."
The pope sat at the table between Jorgiana Lima de Santana, 26, of Brazil and Cho Wonhyong, 28, of South Korea.
Cho said he told the pope about "young people in the Korean church and their love for Christ and the church and their concern for justice and peace."
The young Korean said sitting next to the pope was not nerve-wracking at all, "it was fantastic. He was very comfortable, so it was not a problem to eat. Everyone was joyful."
Okay, maybe it isn't easy to pick a gift for the pope, but Mickey Mouse ears???
I guess I'm just too conservative for this kind of thing.
I just think that there are certain things that do not go together. Like monasticism and Heavy Metal music.
Not all chores are bad
One little...
Two little...
Three little farm kids, all on Patch O' Dirt Farm!
Bret bought some barrels to be used for storing feed and told the kids that they had to wash them out before he got home from work. It was about 90 degrees, so the kids put on their swimming gear and got to work, if you can call it that.
Two little...
Three little farm kids, all on Patch O' Dirt Farm!
Bret bought some barrels to be used for storing feed and told the kids that they had to wash them out before he got home from work. It was about 90 degrees, so the kids put on their swimming gear and got to work, if you can call it that.
Friday, July 18, 2008
I'm nearly 45 years old
And today for the first time in my life I got to see a butterfly actually emerging from its chrysalis. Sebastian and Gabriel watched with me, which was fitting since they were the ones to find the caterpillars. I tried to get it on my camera's video function, but it happened too fast. What a miracle.
Twenty one years ago today...
...Bret and I tied the knot. You may look at my kids and say, "Hey, the oldest is only 9. What was with the first twelve years of marriage?" Well, I was a Godless pagan and he was a lapsed Catholic, and since I was not raised to have any warm feelings about children or motherhood (my own mother was divorced and not particularly crazy about motherhood), I didn't think I was suited to it. And my dear husband loved me enough to not pressure me, although I am sure he'd have liked to have kids early on.
In 1996 I became a Catholic, and Bret came back into the Church. We learned NFP, and a strange thing happened: I lost my fear of getting pregnant. And then it finally occurred that I wanted to get pregnant. And then I had Una, and realized that I liked being a mom better than I liked anything else I ever did. And I lamented the lost time and the many little children that might have been born to us had I not been so fearful of motherhood
Anyway, here's the man I married when we were still dating in Munich, Germany, wearing a sweater I knit him to match the gas tank of his beloved BMW motorcycle (his "other girlfriend").
Man, those leather motorcycle pants looked good. And here is a shot of us at the restaurant after our wedding at a non-denominational chapel in Tucson, AZ. Bret is trying to force-feed me a slice of chocolate-mousse cake. Wow. I can't believe I used such a bright shade of blond back then. I don't intend to color my hair again until someone thinks I'm Dominic's granny.
Happy 21st Anniversary, sweetie. You are still the very best man for the job. Thank you for everything, especially for loving me so much. I love you, too.
In 1996 I became a Catholic, and Bret came back into the Church. We learned NFP, and a strange thing happened: I lost my fear of getting pregnant. And then it finally occurred that I wanted to get pregnant. And then I had Una, and realized that I liked being a mom better than I liked anything else I ever did. And I lamented the lost time and the many little children that might have been born to us had I not been so fearful of motherhood
Anyway, here's the man I married when we were still dating in Munich, Germany, wearing a sweater I knit him to match the gas tank of his beloved BMW motorcycle (his "other girlfriend").
Man, those leather motorcycle pants looked good. And here is a shot of us at the restaurant after our wedding at a non-denominational chapel in Tucson, AZ. Bret is trying to force-feed me a slice of chocolate-mousse cake. Wow. I can't believe I used such a bright shade of blond back then. I don't intend to color my hair again until someone thinks I'm Dominic's granny.
Happy 21st Anniversary, sweetie. You are still the very best man for the job. Thank you for everything, especially for loving me so much. I love you, too.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Our bovines...and some chickens
Since I'm going nuts trying to do everything I can and then some before we begin school next week, I obviously have less time for thoughtful, lengthy posts. On the agenda: lesson plans, menu plans, shopping list, cleaning the school room and organizing my "teacher" cabinet, haircuts for my two youngest and shaggiest boys. Before Monday.
It must be bliss to be an "unschooler"...I just couldn't handle the lack of structure. As is I have to fight the urge to schedule every lesson for the entire quarter all at once. I started out homeschooling like that and found that unexpected events threw me into a tailspin. I need to find a balance between structure and flexibility. I need the suspension bridge of home education.
Anyway, if a picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few thousand words. Mainly for Danette : )
Here is our year old Jersey heifer, Naomi, with her mom, Nuala
Here is Naomi again, this time with T-bone, our Longhorn/Hereford steer
And here are our Jersey Giant pullets and cockerels
It must be bliss to be an "unschooler"...I just couldn't handle the lack of structure. As is I have to fight the urge to schedule every lesson for the entire quarter all at once. I started out homeschooling like that and found that unexpected events threw me into a tailspin. I need to find a balance between structure and flexibility. I need the suspension bridge of home education.
Anyway, if a picture is worth a thousand words, here are a few thousand words. Mainly for Danette : )
Here is our year old Jersey heifer, Naomi, with her mom, Nuala
Here is Naomi again, this time with T-bone, our Longhorn/Hereford steer
And here are our Jersey Giant pullets and cockerels
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
A quote from the inside...
Una, age 9, as she opened a piece of junk mail beside me:
"Junk mail is our only connection to the outside world."
"Junk mail is our only connection to the outside world."
Our Lady of Mount Carmel
Collect for the Commemoration of Our Lady of Mount Carmel:
O God, Who hast honored the Order of Carmel with the special title of Thy most Blessed Mother Mary, ever Virgin: mercifully grant, that we who celebrate her memory this day with solemn office, may be shielded by her protection and deserve to come to everlasting joys; Who livest and reignest.
My friend, Br. Ken Geraci, CPM, is undergoing surgery this day. Please pray an Ave on his behalf.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Our favorite granola recipe
It's not cheap to make, and it is definitely not low-cal, but man, is it ever good!
Ingredients:
5-6 cups rolled oats
1 cup sliced almonds
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup unsalted sunflower seeds
1 cup hulled sesame seeds
1/2 cup milled flax seed
2 cups unsweetened shredded coconut
1 cup vegetable oil (I use virgin coconut oil)
1/2 cups honey
1 cup raisins
1 cup dried cranberries
1 cup chopped dates
Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C)
In a very large bowl or clean dishpan, stir together everything except the oil, honey and dried fruit.
In a small saucepan, heat the oil and honey and stir until very fluid (one can also do this in the microwave with a large measuring cup, heating for about 2 and a half minutes. Pour over the oat mixture and stir until everything is evenly coated. Spread out in an even layer on two cookie sheets.
Bake for 20 minutes , turning the pan once during baking (unless you are fortunate enough to have a convection oven, in which case I envy you very much) until the oats and nuts are toasted.
As soon as it comes out of the oven, stir in the dried fruit (I do this in an enormous bowl) and let stand until cooled, and stir again to break up any large clumps. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for 2-3 weeks--although it probably won't last that long!
I have seriously neglected the religious training of my 5 year-old
Whereas Una could lisp through the St. Michael the Archangel prayer at 4 1/2 years and could identify all the saints on a stack of holy cards, Gabriel has been allowed to fall through the cracks. What indications are there? Well, some weeks ago he was glancing at a picture of Padre Pio on our bedroom altar and exclaimed, "Hey, that guy looks like Obi Wan Kenobi!"
I'm so ashamed.
Then again, maybe he's got a point.
I'm so ashamed.
Then again, maybe he's got a point.
For those of you with boys...
This is the kind of thing we have to look forward to. My boys are still young enough that their stunts are on a proportionately smaller scale, but occasionally just as mortifying. Thanks to Rachel and her Testosterhome blog for this one. She warns that there is a bad word at 3:09, but I was so engrossed, I didn't catch it.
Monday, July 14, 2008
New Porker
Here he is. The spotty little runt. The red paint was something the farmer put on the ones he was selling I think. Anyway, the little guy is quite friendly and almost fell asleep when I was scratching his tummy last night. Yep...I could get attached to this one if he stayed little and cute. Thankfully they are a lot less attractive at 250 lbs.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
I can't get enough of that place...
We went out to the Mennonite community near Scottsville, KY again this morning. I wish I could just spend an entire day there sometime. The shocked grain was already cleared away from the fields, and the corn is getting tall.We picked up our gallon of honey from a young family out there that had reserved one for us, and I so wish I could have taken photos. The man was young, and would probably look like a college boy if not for the beard. He had an open, friendly face, pink and damp from the heat of the day. His children, four girls and a boy, didn't say a word the whole time we were there, but stayed close to ours out of curiosity. We also picked up a new pig. Sebastian picked it, and as always, he picked a runt. He likes little things. Little things with fur. Like mice and such (see post below). Anyway, we got it loaded in a cage and then chatted about cows and feed and such for a few minutes. Then we left to pick up feed.
After that we stopped for produce. The produce store, like the little general store, is always very busy on Saturdays.
I always seem to feel rather dreamy when we take our leave from there. The world outside looks a bit uglier for a while by comparison.
Oh, no--not mice again!
And this time they are cute little baby mice, which Sebastian found while Bret was tilling. He apparently hit a nest, and Sebastian found two babies with closed eyes and a third that didn't survive the tiller. He brought them to me.
"Mama, papa told me to feed them to the chickens, but I can't do it. They're too little and cute."
They are presently in a dishpan cuddling up to one of Una's stuffed animals and drinking milk from an eye-dropper. I told the kids that we can't, absolutely can't keep them. I told them that we have cats in the barn in order to kill mice. I said this as I fed one of them milk.
I stink as a farm wife.
Riches...
The pigs came back from our butcher yesterday, neatly packaged and frozen. About a third of what's in the freezer is beef from our last steer. And I still have a few roasts in my pantry freezer as well. We had sausage with biscuits and honey this morning, and it was very good.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Six Years of Findings (minus the loose change)
When A Broader Mark posted what she'd found at the bottom of her dryer on Wednesday, I felt compelled to tell her about my laundry room lost-and-found collection, which I have been gathering since September of 2002. It fills a pint jar and bears witness to the fact that I have four boys in this house. If you click on the photos, you'll get a larger-than-life view of the collection.
Anyone else out there have some interesting findings to post?
Anyone else out there have some interesting findings to post?
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Homeschoolers Threaten Our Cultural Comfort
I discovered this gem over on Laura's Homeschooling With Joy blog:
Homeschoolers threaten our cultural comfort
You see them at the grocery, or in a discount store.
It's a big family by today's standards - "just like stair steps," as the old
folks say. Freshly scrubbed boys with neatly trimmed hair and girls with
braids, in clean but unfashionable clothes follow mom through the store as
she fills her no-frills shopping list.
There's no begging for gimcracks, no fretting, and no threats from mom. The
older watch the younger, freeing mom to go peacefully about her task.
You are looking at some of the estimated 2 million children being home
schooled in the U.S., and the number is growing. Their reputation for
academic achievement has caused colleges to begin aggressively recruiting
them. Savings to the taxpayers in instructional costs are conservatively
estimated at $4 billion, and some place the figure as high as $9 billion.
When you consider that these families pay taxes to support public schools,
but demand nothing from them, it seems quite a deal for the public.
Home schooling parents are usually better educated than the norm, and are
more likely to attend worship services. Their motives are many and varied.
Some fear contagion from the anti-clericalism, coarse speech, suggestive
behavior and hedonistic values that characterize secular schools. Others are
concerned for their children's safety. Some want their children to be
challenged beyond the minimal competencies of the public schools. Concern
for a theistic world view largely permeates the movement.
Indications are that home schooling is working well for the kids, and the
parents are pleased with their choice, but the practice is coming under
increasing suspicion, and even official attack, as in California.
Why do we hate (or at least distrust) these people so much?
Methinks American middle-class people are uncomfortable around the home
schooled for the same reason the alcoholic is uneasy around the teetotaler.
Their very existence represents a rejection of our values, and an indictment
of our lifestyles. Those families are willing to render unto Caesar the
things that Caesar's be, but they draw the line at their children. Those of
us who have put our trust in the secular state (and effectively surrendered
our children to it) recognize this act of defiance as a rejection of our
values, and we reject them in return.
Just as the jealous Chaldeans schemed to bring the wrath of the king upon
the Hebrew eunuchs, we are happy to sic the state's bureaucrats on these
"trouble makers." Their implicit rejection of America's most venerated idol,
Materialism, (a.k.a. "Individualism") spurs us to heat the furnace and feed
the lions.
Young families must make the decision: Will junior go to day care and day
school, or will mom stay home and raise him? The rationalizations begin. "A
family just can't make it on one income." (Our parents did.) "It just costs
so much to raise a child nowadays." (Yeah, if you buy brand-name clothing,
pre-prepared food, join every club and activity, and spend half the cost of
a house on the daughter's wedding, it does.) And so, the decision is made.
We give up the bulk of our waking hours with our children, as well as the
formation of their minds, philosophies, and attitudes, to strangers. We
compensate by getting a boat to take them to the river, a van to carry them
to Little League, a 2,800-square-foot house, an ATV, a zero-turn Cub Cadet,
and a fund to finance a brand-name college education. And most
significantly, we claim "our right" to pursue a career for our own
"self-fulfillment."
Deep down, however, we know that our generation has eaten its seed corn. We
lack the discipline and the vision to deny ourselves in the hope of
something enduring and worthy for our posterity. We are tired from working
extra jobs, and the looming depression threatens our 401k's. Credit cards
are nearly maxed, and it costs a $100 to fuel the Suburban. Now the kid is
raising hell again, demanding the latest Play Station as his price for doing
his school work ... and there goes that modest young woman in the home-made
dress with her four bright-eyed, well-behaved home-schooled children in tow.
Wouldn't you just love to wipe that serene look right off her smug face?
Is it any wonder we hate her so?
Sonny Scott a community columnist, lives on Sparta Road in Chickasaw County
and his e-mail address is sonnyscott@yahoo.com.
Homeschoolers threaten our cultural comfort
You see them at the grocery, or in a discount store.
It's a big family by today's standards - "just like stair steps," as the old
folks say. Freshly scrubbed boys with neatly trimmed hair and girls with
braids, in clean but unfashionable clothes follow mom through the store as
she fills her no-frills shopping list.
There's no begging for gimcracks, no fretting, and no threats from mom. The
older watch the younger, freeing mom to go peacefully about her task.
You are looking at some of the estimated 2 million children being home
schooled in the U.S., and the number is growing. Their reputation for
academic achievement has caused colleges to begin aggressively recruiting
them. Savings to the taxpayers in instructional costs are conservatively
estimated at $4 billion, and some place the figure as high as $9 billion.
When you consider that these families pay taxes to support public schools,
but demand nothing from them, it seems quite a deal for the public.
Home schooling parents are usually better educated than the norm, and are
more likely to attend worship services. Their motives are many and varied.
Some fear contagion from the anti-clericalism, coarse speech, suggestive
behavior and hedonistic values that characterize secular schools. Others are
concerned for their children's safety. Some want their children to be
challenged beyond the minimal competencies of the public schools. Concern
for a theistic world view largely permeates the movement.
Indications are that home schooling is working well for the kids, and the
parents are pleased with their choice, but the practice is coming under
increasing suspicion, and even official attack, as in California.
Why do we hate (or at least distrust) these people so much?
Methinks American middle-class people are uncomfortable around the home
schooled for the same reason the alcoholic is uneasy around the teetotaler.
Their very existence represents a rejection of our values, and an indictment
of our lifestyles. Those families are willing to render unto Caesar the
things that Caesar's be, but they draw the line at their children. Those of
us who have put our trust in the secular state (and effectively surrendered
our children to it) recognize this act of defiance as a rejection of our
values, and we reject them in return.
Just as the jealous Chaldeans schemed to bring the wrath of the king upon
the Hebrew eunuchs, we are happy to sic the state's bureaucrats on these
"trouble makers." Their implicit rejection of America's most venerated idol,
Materialism, (a.k.a. "Individualism") spurs us to heat the furnace and feed
the lions.
Young families must make the decision: Will junior go to day care and day
school, or will mom stay home and raise him? The rationalizations begin. "A
family just can't make it on one income." (Our parents did.) "It just costs
so much to raise a child nowadays." (Yeah, if you buy brand-name clothing,
pre-prepared food, join every club and activity, and spend half the cost of
a house on the daughter's wedding, it does.) And so, the decision is made.
We give up the bulk of our waking hours with our children, as well as the
formation of their minds, philosophies, and attitudes, to strangers. We
compensate by getting a boat to take them to the river, a van to carry them
to Little League, a 2,800-square-foot house, an ATV, a zero-turn Cub Cadet,
and a fund to finance a brand-name college education. And most
significantly, we claim "our right" to pursue a career for our own
"self-fulfillment."
Deep down, however, we know that our generation has eaten its seed corn. We
lack the discipline and the vision to deny ourselves in the hope of
something enduring and worthy for our posterity. We are tired from working
extra jobs, and the looming depression threatens our 401k's. Credit cards
are nearly maxed, and it costs a $100 to fuel the Suburban. Now the kid is
raising hell again, demanding the latest Play Station as his price for doing
his school work ... and there goes that modest young woman in the home-made
dress with her four bright-eyed, well-behaved home-schooled children in tow.
Wouldn't you just love to wipe that serene look right off her smug face?
Is it any wonder we hate her so?
Sonny Scott a community columnist, lives on Sparta Road in Chickasaw County
and his e-mail address is sonnyscott@yahoo.com.
Mice, Dead or Alive
This morning Jake, our barn cat was playing with a soaking wet, not-yet-dead mouse. I couldn't bear watching him stalk, pounce, nip, pat and then release and follow the wobbly little thing, so I picked it up by the tail and tossed it in the pasture. A few of our pullets noticed it, but unlike the hens who will fight one another for a mouse or frog, they just gathered around and watched it with their heads cocked to the side.
It's funny how I have less trouble dealing with live mice than with dead ones. A few weeks ago I nearly screamed when I removed the compost container from my lower cabinet and found a dead mouse there. Sebastian took a paper towel and removed it for his grateful mother. For the next few days I opened every cabinet with some trepidation, whereas Sebastian and Gabriel inspected all the cabinets every day for several days with a flashlight, hoping to find another dead mouse.
Years ago in Tucson we had a little furry invader eating holes into bread loaves and cereal boxes. Our two fat, pampered house cats seemed to have no inkling that they were sharing their territory with a rodent. Bret bought a glue trap and we set it in the kitchen. I wished he had purchased some other type. Each day I would go off to the bindery where I was an apprentice and on the way home I would pray that the trap would either be empty, or that the mouse in it would be dead. I didn't want to deal with a live mouse stuck in a glue trap. I wasn't sure how I'd deal with it, but I have never killed anything larger than a cockroach in my life, so I knew it would create a real dilemma until Bret came home from work.
On the third day of the trap, I came home and found the poor mouse with all four feet and the side of its face down in the glue. And it was alive. The cats were only vaguely aware that there was something there. I sighed. It would be hours until Bret returned. So I picked up the trap, and gathered a few things: cooking oil, denatured alcohol, cotton swabs and what not, and I went into the bathroom and shut the door to keep the cats out.
I spent the next 45 minutes extricating the mouse from the glue, while the cats meowed outside the bathroom door. At the end of it, since there had recently been an outbreak of hantavirus in the Southwest, I made a call to the CCD. Basically, I wanted to know if there'd been any reported cases in Tucson and what my life expectancy was if the mouse had it. There had been no reports of it in Tucson. Good.
"Where is the mouse?" I was asked. I looked at the mouse, now in my kitchen.
"Um, he's in a quart-size yogurt container eating a saltine." There was a moment's silence on the other end.
"Are you crazy? We are talking abut a potentially deadly disease here."
"Well, I couldn't kill him."
"If he has hanta, he has the potential to kill you."
"Well, one's gotta do what one's gotta do. Guess I have to deal with the consequences of that, right?" I put an apple slice into the container, and the mouse moved from the saltine to the fruit.
"I guess so. Good luck, ma'm."
After a few minutes of deliberating with myself, I took the container and the mouse and walked across the street out into the desert. I released him, and he took a few uncertain hops before scurrying away. I figured the chances of a mouse surviving long in the wild were pretty slim, being part of the diet of everything from hawks and owls to snakes and coyotes.
I have city-bred sensibilities, and I didn't become an active killer until I started a little garden. Then I finally began to pull weeds and drown bugs in buckets, not with any pleasure, mind you, but purely for the survival of the tomatoes. And that's the crux of it, really...there just isn't anything I need to kill outside of bugs and weeds. Yes, we raise our own meat here at Patch O' Dirt, but if I had to kill anything myself, I think we'd be vegetarian, which would be bad news because my kids dislike most veggies and I am, at this point, still a terrible gardener. So maybe then killing would become a matter of survival. I managed to do without meat for 20 years of my life, but that's another story...
It's funny how I have less trouble dealing with live mice than with dead ones. A few weeks ago I nearly screamed when I removed the compost container from my lower cabinet and found a dead mouse there. Sebastian took a paper towel and removed it for his grateful mother. For the next few days I opened every cabinet with some trepidation, whereas Sebastian and Gabriel inspected all the cabinets every day for several days with a flashlight, hoping to find another dead mouse.
Years ago in Tucson we had a little furry invader eating holes into bread loaves and cereal boxes. Our two fat, pampered house cats seemed to have no inkling that they were sharing their territory with a rodent. Bret bought a glue trap and we set it in the kitchen. I wished he had purchased some other type. Each day I would go off to the bindery where I was an apprentice and on the way home I would pray that the trap would either be empty, or that the mouse in it would be dead. I didn't want to deal with a live mouse stuck in a glue trap. I wasn't sure how I'd deal with it, but I have never killed anything larger than a cockroach in my life, so I knew it would create a real dilemma until Bret came home from work.
On the third day of the trap, I came home and found the poor mouse with all four feet and the side of its face down in the glue. And it was alive. The cats were only vaguely aware that there was something there. I sighed. It would be hours until Bret returned. So I picked up the trap, and gathered a few things: cooking oil, denatured alcohol, cotton swabs and what not, and I went into the bathroom and shut the door to keep the cats out.
I spent the next 45 minutes extricating the mouse from the glue, while the cats meowed outside the bathroom door. At the end of it, since there had recently been an outbreak of hantavirus in the Southwest, I made a call to the CCD. Basically, I wanted to know if there'd been any reported cases in Tucson and what my life expectancy was if the mouse had it. There had been no reports of it in Tucson. Good.
"Where is the mouse?" I was asked. I looked at the mouse, now in my kitchen.
"Um, he's in a quart-size yogurt container eating a saltine." There was a moment's silence on the other end.
"Are you crazy? We are talking abut a potentially deadly disease here."
"Well, I couldn't kill him."
"If he has hanta, he has the potential to kill you."
"Well, one's gotta do what one's gotta do. Guess I have to deal with the consequences of that, right?" I put an apple slice into the container, and the mouse moved from the saltine to the fruit.
"I guess so. Good luck, ma'm."
After a few minutes of deliberating with myself, I took the container and the mouse and walked across the street out into the desert. I released him, and he took a few uncertain hops before scurrying away. I figured the chances of a mouse surviving long in the wild were pretty slim, being part of the diet of everything from hawks and owls to snakes and coyotes.
I have city-bred sensibilities, and I didn't become an active killer until I started a little garden. Then I finally began to pull weeds and drown bugs in buckets, not with any pleasure, mind you, but purely for the survival of the tomatoes. And that's the crux of it, really...there just isn't anything I need to kill outside of bugs and weeds. Yes, we raise our own meat here at Patch O' Dirt, but if I had to kill anything myself, I think we'd be vegetarian, which would be bad news because my kids dislike most veggies and I am, at this point, still a terrible gardener. So maybe then killing would become a matter of survival. I managed to do without meat for 20 years of my life, but that's another story...
Rain Rain Rain
We certainly have been getting a lot of it this week, and I ought not to complain since the pasture could really use it and it saves us from having to water the garden and the young trees. But the children are getting antsy. With no school and me trying to squeeze everything I can into what little time off from teaching I have left before we pick up again, they get bored and start begging for videos about mid morning. Well, the rain stopped and everything is wet, but I let them go out and explore the dripping yard. They are poking around under rocks and in puddles, and later I may give them permission to go down to the pond and take a look at the waterfall--a great place to find fish, turtles and frogs.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Today, on Exposing Islam...
...the National Children's Bureau gets silly about racist toddlers, conversion to Christianity from Islam is as dangerous in Britain as in the Middle East, and Osama bin Laden's baby boy recites poetry with an AK47. Well, this ties in with my book review, doesn't it? I urge you to take a look at the Exposing Islam blog. It is always a revelation.
Wake Up and Smell the Turkish Coffee, Part III
I have only a chapter left to read of The Sword of the Prophet, and there is just too much to summarize here, and I am not a very polished writer when it comes to summaries and reviews, therefore I will just try to put down here some of the things I read which caught my attention and which I feel show the hidden agenda of Islam--hidden by the media, academia and middle-of-the road Muslims, but not at all by Islam itself.
In the news recently we read much about Shari'a, which most westerners conceive as a kind of moral law, and which the Muslims wish to impose on us Westerners. If that were so, and it was a mere guideline for one's own personal moral distinctions, it would be no threat to the West. But it is not; rather, Shari'a is "a blend of political theory and penal law, requiring the punishment of violators through the sword of the state". Muslims consider it the standard test of validity of all law, and submission to any other form of law is held as rebellion against the supremacy of Allah.
Shari'a is infallible and applies to all mankind just as the Koran applies to all creation.
No one needs to point out that it is a misogynistic religion, or that the West is hated by radical (read: orthodox) Islam, and we know it is anti-Jewish (anti-semitic would be a misnomer, since Arabs are also Semites), but it is not widely known that Islam was a positive ally to Nazi Germany through the machinations of the Mufti of Jerusalem and former President of the Supreme Muslim Council of Palestine, Haj Mohammed Amin al-Husseini. He met with Hitler in Berlin in 1941 to declare that the Arabs were Germany's friends, ready to aid the Reich with the formation of an Arab Legion. He was busily making protests everywhere to assure that no Jews would be released from Nazi-controlled Europe, so that no more might enter Palestine. He praised the Germans as knowing "how to get rid of the Jews, and that brings us close to the Germans and sets us in their camp." Heinrich Himmler rather liked Islam, considering it to be a masculine, martial religion that had much in common with the qualities of the SS. And modern day Arab journalism demonizes all Jews with the same absurd stereotyping and caricaturization as did Nazi propaganda of sixty years ago.
Unbelievably, in the aftermath of 9/11, the most widely spread view of all the Muslim world, even at top governmental levels, is that the attack was carried out by "the Jews", that the Zionist movement and American intelligence organizations planned these attacks, and this was the opinion expressed by leading papers all over the Arab world. If that isn't an unprecedented show of chutzpah, then this most certainly is: the Syrian ambassador to Tehran declared that Syria has proof of the Zionist regime's involvement, and that "4,000 Jews employed at the World Trade Center did not show up for work before the attacks", clearly attesting to Zionist involvement. And the most respected paper of the Arab world, Al-Ahram, wrote, "Out of 6000 killed, of 65 nationalities from 60 countries, not one was a Jew!"
There is so much in the chapters detailing the U.S. involvement with Islam during the Clinton administration that I can't even begin to detail it. Military support in weaponry and training was given to Afghanistan in order to pull the former Soviet Union into its own demoralizing version of Viet Nam. Desire to bring down the Soviet Union and a deep reliance on Arab oil, not to mention an over-inflated national ego, all contributed to what has now become a real terrorist problem here and abroad. Having been much younger, self-absorbed and not at all politically aware during this period, I am reading the events of these years with a sense of disbelief.
And now western civilization itself is threatened. The thought was that the Muslim immigrants would, like those from other faiths, settle into society within a generation or two; that the children of these immigrants would come to worship the icons of Coca-Cola, McDonald's and MTV to merge into the global Western culture. It hasn't happened. And this is because Islam is more than a religion. It embraces every facet of a Muslim's life and directs every motion.
I will leave off with a couple of thought-provoking paragraphs from this book:
"On the Islamic side this war is being fought with the deep and unshakable belief that the West is on its last legs. The success of the demographic deluge enhances the image of 'a candy store with the busted lock,' reinforced by the evidence from history that a civilization that loses the urge for biological self-perpetuation is indeed finished...
"Western policy toward Islam will remain on a path to disaster for as long as its response excludes any notion of self-definition other than liberal platitudes about 'tolerance,' 'democracy,' 'human rights,' or 'opportunity.' " It's time to wake up, America.
In the news recently we read much about Shari'a, which most westerners conceive as a kind of moral law, and which the Muslims wish to impose on us Westerners. If that were so, and it was a mere guideline for one's own personal moral distinctions, it would be no threat to the West. But it is not; rather, Shari'a is "a blend of political theory and penal law, requiring the punishment of violators through the sword of the state". Muslims consider it the standard test of validity of all law, and submission to any other form of law is held as rebellion against the supremacy of Allah.
Shari'a is infallible and applies to all mankind just as the Koran applies to all creation.
No one needs to point out that it is a misogynistic religion, or that the West is hated by radical (read: orthodox) Islam, and we know it is anti-Jewish (anti-semitic would be a misnomer, since Arabs are also Semites), but it is not widely known that Islam was a positive ally to Nazi Germany through the machinations of the Mufti of Jerusalem and former President of the Supreme Muslim Council of Palestine, Haj Mohammed Amin al-Husseini. He met with Hitler in Berlin in 1941 to declare that the Arabs were Germany's friends, ready to aid the Reich with the formation of an Arab Legion. He was busily making protests everywhere to assure that no Jews would be released from Nazi-controlled Europe, so that no more might enter Palestine. He praised the Germans as knowing "how to get rid of the Jews, and that brings us close to the Germans and sets us in their camp." Heinrich Himmler rather liked Islam, considering it to be a masculine, martial religion that had much in common with the qualities of the SS. And modern day Arab journalism demonizes all Jews with the same absurd stereotyping and caricaturization as did Nazi propaganda of sixty years ago.
Unbelievably, in the aftermath of 9/11, the most widely spread view of all the Muslim world, even at top governmental levels, is that the attack was carried out by "the Jews", that the Zionist movement and American intelligence organizations planned these attacks, and this was the opinion expressed by leading papers all over the Arab world. If that isn't an unprecedented show of chutzpah, then this most certainly is: the Syrian ambassador to Tehran declared that Syria has proof of the Zionist regime's involvement, and that "4,000 Jews employed at the World Trade Center did not show up for work before the attacks", clearly attesting to Zionist involvement. And the most respected paper of the Arab world, Al-Ahram, wrote, "Out of 6000 killed, of 65 nationalities from 60 countries, not one was a Jew!"
There is so much in the chapters detailing the U.S. involvement with Islam during the Clinton administration that I can't even begin to detail it. Military support in weaponry and training was given to Afghanistan in order to pull the former Soviet Union into its own demoralizing version of Viet Nam. Desire to bring down the Soviet Union and a deep reliance on Arab oil, not to mention an over-inflated national ego, all contributed to what has now become a real terrorist problem here and abroad. Having been much younger, self-absorbed and not at all politically aware during this period, I am reading the events of these years with a sense of disbelief.
And now western civilization itself is threatened. The thought was that the Muslim immigrants would, like those from other faiths, settle into society within a generation or two; that the children of these immigrants would come to worship the icons of Coca-Cola, McDonald's and MTV to merge into the global Western culture. It hasn't happened. And this is because Islam is more than a religion. It embraces every facet of a Muslim's life and directs every motion.
I will leave off with a couple of thought-provoking paragraphs from this book:
"On the Islamic side this war is being fought with the deep and unshakable belief that the West is on its last legs. The success of the demographic deluge enhances the image of 'a candy store with the busted lock,' reinforced by the evidence from history that a civilization that loses the urge for biological self-perpetuation is indeed finished...
"Western policy toward Islam will remain on a path to disaster for as long as its response excludes any notion of self-definition other than liberal platitudes about 'tolerance,' 'democracy,' 'human rights,' or 'opportunity.' " It's time to wake up, America.
Dial a Human!
Are you tired of endless telephone menus and automated messages? Are you frustrated by going in circles on the phone because the recordings telling you to press this or that do not cover your area of inquiry? Do you, as I sometimes do, "stay on the line if you are calling from a rotary phone", even if you don't have one, just so that you can talk to an operator? Well, here's a boon for us: my mother sent this to me in an email, and I plan to bookmark it. It's an alphabetical business directory with instructions for each on how to get in touch with a person at each business. Reach out and touch someone!
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Patch O' Blue
I was feeling pretty discouraged this morning. After successfully fighting Colorado potato beetles, I am now waging a fairly unsuccessful war against squash bugs and blister beetles. So far the latter are staying on and in the marigolds and are chewing them to bits, but I wonder if they will move to the tomatoes before I can get my hands on some neem. Forget hand picking them--there are too many and they burrow deeply into the marigold heads. I wonder if I will ever have a successful garden, or if the weeds and pests will just continue to beat me down every year.
The pullets still aren't laying, but they are getting big and ought to start soon. That would be nice, as we are averaging only one or two eggs a day from the 3 older hens.
The cow, of course, is still dry. Store bought milk tastes flat and flavorless. And that's the whole milk! I can't even imagine 2%.
At least the pigs are going to the butcher tomorrow. We loaded them up this morning, and as usual, it was a big pain in the neck...we have not perfected our technique of hog-loading, and to make matters worse, it rained cats and dogs yesterday afternoon, and so the usual, dusty moonscape of a hog pen became a big mud puddle riddled with foot-deep pools. I came out to let the chickens out to forage, and I knew I was in for it when Bret called, "Nadja, put on your boots!"
I like pork loin and shredded pork, bacon and sausage. I like having a garbage disposal for my kids' leftovers that doesn't make me feel guilty about waste. And I like pigs--they really are smart and are rather dog-like in disposition. They run in circles with excitement when our van pulls in and they like to be scratched and wet with the hose in hot weather. but I hate loading them. I hate it because whatever we do, they always get away from us and break loose, and Bret ends up fighting mad and wanting to shoot them on the spot, and they squeal at the same decibel level as a jet engine, and frankly, I hate the struggle and I sympathize with them. I'm not sorry about sending them to the butcher, mind you, but I don't like to upset them and frighten them.
I had to throw everything I'd just put on into the washing machine, and Bret had to shower and call in late to work. Una was asleep, or else I'd have had her take some photos of the struggle, which I'm sure looked pretty ridiculous.
Not as ridiculous as the time one of our big boys, a 300 lb hog, broke loose when Bret was at work and night was approaching, and I had to rope and drag him, fighting me all the way, back to his pen. Did I mention that I am 5'3" and 105 lbs? I thought I was going to die. My children thought so, too. Every time the hog pulled me onto my face the kids would start crying, so I had to send them inside. I got him in, though!
Sir Francis Bacon, last year's whopper (we wanted bacon, so we let him go on growing until the weather was cold enough for the Mennonites to smoke the bacons, and he ended up being 500lbs.) was a bear to load. He tossed Bret up and over like a toy--a day after Bret had been to the doctor for back pain.
Anyway, they're on the trailer and I don't have to think about loading pigs for a while. I'll get Boston butts and picnic shoulders and maybe the loins, and the rest is sausage. It won't be the cheapest pork we've ever raised--these are two of the leggiest, skinniest pigs I've ever seen.
I'm feeling a little less discouraged right now. I'm hungry. And I'm thinking about sausage...
The pullets still aren't laying, but they are getting big and ought to start soon. That would be nice, as we are averaging only one or two eggs a day from the 3 older hens.
The cow, of course, is still dry. Store bought milk tastes flat and flavorless. And that's the whole milk! I can't even imagine 2%.
At least the pigs are going to the butcher tomorrow. We loaded them up this morning, and as usual, it was a big pain in the neck...we have not perfected our technique of hog-loading, and to make matters worse, it rained cats and dogs yesterday afternoon, and so the usual, dusty moonscape of a hog pen became a big mud puddle riddled with foot-deep pools. I came out to let the chickens out to forage, and I knew I was in for it when Bret called, "Nadja, put on your boots!"
I like pork loin and shredded pork, bacon and sausage. I like having a garbage disposal for my kids' leftovers that doesn't make me feel guilty about waste. And I like pigs--they really are smart and are rather dog-like in disposition. They run in circles with excitement when our van pulls in and they like to be scratched and wet with the hose in hot weather. but I hate loading them. I hate it because whatever we do, they always get away from us and break loose, and Bret ends up fighting mad and wanting to shoot them on the spot, and they squeal at the same decibel level as a jet engine, and frankly, I hate the struggle and I sympathize with them. I'm not sorry about sending them to the butcher, mind you, but I don't like to upset them and frighten them.
I had to throw everything I'd just put on into the washing machine, and Bret had to shower and call in late to work. Una was asleep, or else I'd have had her take some photos of the struggle, which I'm sure looked pretty ridiculous.
Not as ridiculous as the time one of our big boys, a 300 lb hog, broke loose when Bret was at work and night was approaching, and I had to rope and drag him, fighting me all the way, back to his pen. Did I mention that I am 5'3" and 105 lbs? I thought I was going to die. My children thought so, too. Every time the hog pulled me onto my face the kids would start crying, so I had to send them inside. I got him in, though!
Sir Francis Bacon, last year's whopper (we wanted bacon, so we let him go on growing until the weather was cold enough for the Mennonites to smoke the bacons, and he ended up being 500lbs.) was a bear to load. He tossed Bret up and over like a toy--a day after Bret had been to the doctor for back pain.
Anyway, they're on the trailer and I don't have to think about loading pigs for a while. I'll get Boston butts and picnic shoulders and maybe the loins, and the rest is sausage. It won't be the cheapest pork we've ever raised--these are two of the leggiest, skinniest pigs I've ever seen.
I'm feeling a little less discouraged right now. I'm hungry. And I'm thinking about sausage...
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Recipe: Perfect Garlic Bread
I know that there are other ways to make garlic bread, but for me this is the simplest and the best.
Ingredients:
As many slices of Italian bread as desired, cut diagonally, about 1" thick
Good, fruity extra-virgin olive oil
A nice plump clove of garlic, peeled
Salt
1. Lay the slices of bread on a baking sheet and toast under the broiler, first on one side, then on the other.
2. Rub one side of each toasted slice with the garlic clove.
3. Brush each slice with the olive oil.
4. Salt to taste.
And that's it. It's nice to have a cute 3 year-old assistant to help with the brushing of the olive oil. Just don't let him/her take control of the salt shaker!
Ingredients:
As many slices of Italian bread as desired, cut diagonally, about 1" thick
Good, fruity extra-virgin olive oil
A nice plump clove of garlic, peeled
Salt
1. Lay the slices of bread on a baking sheet and toast under the broiler, first on one side, then on the other.
2. Rub one side of each toasted slice with the garlic clove.
3. Brush each slice with the olive oil.
4. Salt to taste.
And that's it. It's nice to have a cute 3 year-old assistant to help with the brushing of the olive oil. Just don't let him/her take control of the salt shaker!
Recipe: Pasta Salad with Pesto
When I bring something to a party or potluck, it is usually one of two things (I need to expand my repertoire!): my multi-colored bean salad or my pasta salad. I like these, especially the latter, because they are relatively easy, make a large amount and with the pasta salad I usually have all the ingredients on hand anyway. Both get super reviews every time I make them. I brought the pasta salad to the party last night, and I have been asked many times for the recipe, so here it is:
Ingredients:
1 16 oz box mini penne (I like the Barilla brand) cooked according to directions, rinsed and cooled
1 1/2 cups diced tomatoes or 2 cups halved cherry tomatoes
1 6 oz can black olives, sliced
approximately 1 cup of Italian dressing--use a nice one, one with sun dried tomatoes or roasted red peppers, or a balsamic vinaigrette.
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
2 cups coarsely shredded mozzarella
Combine everything.
Easy, right? Okay, here is the secret ingredient: Add about 1/3 cup pesto. I make and freeze bunches of the stuff all summer long and freeze it. If you don't have pesto, add about 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil leaves and garlic powder to taste. I've even used garlic powder and dried basil, and it is still good, but don't expect the raves.
Also, if you make it well ahead of time, you may need to add a little dressing before serving, as the pasta and cheeses tend to absorb the liquid.
If you want to dress it up further, add something fancy--shrimp and/or quartered artichoke hearts. There are a million possible variations.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)