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Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Love Completely
Thursday, July 18, 2013
I have no words.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
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| Like Father, Like Son. Last Friday at The Wharf in Orange Beach |
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| Dinner at Lulu's last Saturday night |
The Dragon Lady
Friday, June 21, 2013
Dakota, Dak, Dak Dak, Big Dog.
She answers to them all.
This girl just turned seven years old! That is forty nine in dog years!
She is no longer a youthful pup, but becoming a ornery old woman.
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| on the way home! |
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| Sam practicing for future ponytails... She still wears that same tag today. |
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| Her sisters using her as a pillow. |
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| Daddy's Copilot |
Dakota has an eating disorder.
She binges if not closely watched.
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| Yeah. That looks like a malnourished dog. #backthatazzup |
In honor of my grey dog,
I give you Florence to lift your spirits and remind you that the weekend lies ahead!
The Broken Tree.
Monday, June 10, 2013Don't get me wrong I love them all to death! I really do!
That's all I have for today.
Just a little insight to my own personal crazy.
Auntie Seraphic & the Concerned Married Sister
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
As far as I can recall, this is the first letter in six years about someone else being Single!
Dear Seraphic:
Concerned Married Sister
Dear Seraphic:
I have a good topic for you to cover if you are so inclined. How does one strike the balance between letting God be in control of one's life, but not being passive? I ask this specifically in relation to discerning a call to marriage.
The background on this is that I am the oldest of sisters. I am in my mid-40s now and married, but I married in my late 30s. My youngest sister is now in her early 40s and not married yet. She is the source of my concern. I know it is awful of me to be a meddlesome older sister! I am not a nag, though. I am quiet in my observations and concerns. I try to spend as much time with my sister as I can, and to shower her with love and support. Meanwhile I do worry a little. And I know my mom worries a lot.
My sister has never really dated, but she expresses a very strong desire to be married and an equally strong conviction that she will be married one day. Meanwhile -- good for her -- she is not dying of loneliness. She has a lot of friends, and is very involved in her church and the community. She does not always open up to me, but my mother says that a priest told her that she would be married one day and that that is what forms her very strong conviction that God has spoken to her and that she is not to worry about it at all. I get the sense that this priest's words were a sign to my sister, perhaps even a mystical sign.
I am -- I confess -- skeptical of mystical signs! On the other hand, I believe that God does wonderful things for his children, and sometimes goes above and beyond in meeting our needs. Maybe my sister needed that mystical sign, and the good Lord gave it to her. I am open to that possibility, though not completely convinced. To me it seems like she used that sign to shut herself off from the normal process of being young and open. It almost seems like she is scared of dating and of men, that she is very unsure of herself. But she is very convinced that she is right! I find myself scratching my head. I just don't know. Maybe she is right!
Anyway, I am just curious as to whether you have any thoughts on this. Whatever you say, it will not change my approach to my sister. Nor will I present it to her with an I-am-right-you-are-wrong approach. Since she has never asked for advice, and isn't particularly open to advice either, I have never given it. I wish she did ask for advice! I just love her and try to be there for her. I would love for her to meet a nice man. It's hard to imagine who that would be. He would have to be pretty incredible.
Whereas my sister is very passive (I use the word "passive" for lack of a better word, and I know that it expresses my admitted bias), I was very active in my pursuit of marriage. When I hit 30 I had the realization that marriage was not going to fall into my lap. I did as much as I could to meet people. I dated quite a bit. I made some mistakes along the way. But I also learned a lot about myself in the process and I grew spiritually.
The background on this is that I am the oldest of sisters. I am in my mid-40s now and married, but I married in my late 30s. My youngest sister is now in her early 40s and not married yet. She is the source of my concern. I know it is awful of me to be a meddlesome older sister! I am not a nag, though. I am quiet in my observations and concerns. I try to spend as much time with my sister as I can, and to shower her with love and support. Meanwhile I do worry a little. And I know my mom worries a lot.
My sister has never really dated, but she expresses a very strong desire to be married and an equally strong conviction that she will be married one day. Meanwhile -- good for her -- she is not dying of loneliness. She has a lot of friends, and is very involved in her church and the community. She does not always open up to me, but my mother says that a priest told her that she would be married one day and that that is what forms her very strong conviction that God has spoken to her and that she is not to worry about it at all. I get the sense that this priest's words were a sign to my sister, perhaps even a mystical sign.
I am -- I confess -- skeptical of mystical signs! On the other hand, I believe that God does wonderful things for his children, and sometimes goes above and beyond in meeting our needs. Maybe my sister needed that mystical sign, and the good Lord gave it to her. I am open to that possibility, though not completely convinced. To me it seems like she used that sign to shut herself off from the normal process of being young and open. It almost seems like she is scared of dating and of men, that she is very unsure of herself. But she is very convinced that she is right! I find myself scratching my head. I just don't know. Maybe she is right!
Anyway, I am just curious as to whether you have any thoughts on this. Whatever you say, it will not change my approach to my sister. Nor will I present it to her with an I-am-right-you-are-wrong approach. Since she has never asked for advice, and isn't particularly open to advice either, I have never given it. I wish she did ask for advice! I just love her and try to be there for her. I would love for her to meet a nice man. It's hard to imagine who that would be. He would have to be pretty incredible.
Whereas my sister is very passive (I use the word "passive" for lack of a better word, and I know that it expresses my admitted bias), I was very active in my pursuit of marriage. When I hit 30 I had the realization that marriage was not going to fall into my lap. I did as much as I could to meet people. I dated quite a bit. I made some mistakes along the way. But I also learned a lot about myself in the process and I grew spiritually.
When internet dating became available, I used it with great success. I met a wonderful Catholic man, a good man, and we married and are quite happy, blessed with children. I know the internet dating thing is a whole other topic! But it is just funny to me that my sister and I are on opposite ends of the spectrum, or at least that is the way that I see it. My other sisters were somewhere in the middle. Marriage did just sort of fall in their laps.
This is a topic that is on my mind. It is not a personal problem per se, and whatever you say it will not change the way that I approach my sister. It is just something that I sometimes puzzle over, and am curious your thoughts. If in the process of a reply you are able to help a young single woman form her thoughts on how to approach men and the possibility or romance, all the better!
Thanks, Seraphic.
With Gratitude,
This is a topic that is on my mind. It is not a personal problem per se, and whatever you say it will not change the way that I approach my sister. It is just something that I sometimes puzzle over, and am curious your thoughts. If in the process of a reply you are able to help a young single woman form her thoughts on how to approach men and the possibility or romance, all the better!
Thanks, Seraphic.
With Gratitude,
Dear Concerned Married Sister,
I am an oldest sister too, so I know about worrying about younger brothers and sisters. I used to worry a lot about my oldest brother, for he seemed genuinely lonely, but then God sent him a wonderful wife and later two lovely children.
The rest of the gang is still unmarried, but I don't worry about them. I married late, so they might marry late. And, meanwhile, the girls seem well-contented to me. They generally having busy, productive, forward-looking lives. I haven't the foggiest clue if my sisters are out there trying to meet men, but I could not care less, for they already have a family: our family.
Your sister, like me, is in her early 40s, so chances are that it's already game over for her ever giving birth. However, if she does marry, she might marry a widower or annullé with kids, which would be very nice, or she might adopt or foster, if she likes. But that doesn't interest me. What interests me is you.
Why are you so invested in your sister meeting a nice man? She's already happy, and she has an enviable tranquility about the future, possibly because she believes in this priest's prediction. Her passivity, as you call it, will not prevent God's will, but may even be helping bring it about. As you say, marriage just fell into the laps of your other sisters. Maybe God wants her to marry the UPS man who brings her a package when she is 53. Or maybe He wants her to be a model of tranquility for other Single women for decades and then enter joyfully into a mystical marriage with Him. Why do you doubt in His plan for your sister?
Happy married people often have a hard time getting our minds around the idea that Single people--like priests--can be happy just trusting in God. And super-active, go-go-go people can also have a hard time realizing that it is God, not their efforts, who calls the shots.
When it come to earning money or improving oneself, of course "God helps those who helps themselves"--keeping in mind that God makes the first move: we are not Pelagians. But when it comes to husband-and-children, that's God's territory. There are men and women who spend hundreds or thousands of dollars and years on dating websites without getting married, and then are men and women who barely lift a finger, and there the perfect person for them is.
My advice is to be grateful for what (and who!) God had given you, to accept that His plans for your sister are obviously quite different from His plans for you, and to be grateful for, and even awed by, your sister's trust in Him.
Grace and peace,
Seraphic
People. There is no excuse for married Catholics tying themselves into knots because other Catholics are living chaste lives of celibacy. From Pentecost until the Reformation, a chaste life of celibacy was considered the superior form of Christian life, and this insight pre-dated men's and women's religious orders.
As much as an individual married person hated the Single Life, this does not mean the Single Life is worthy of such fear and contempt. No word of a lie, many Single people are content to wait or follow St. Paul's advice to remain as they are. And many priests get annoyed by heartfelt married-people sighs of "Oh, Father, what a shame you can't get married! Do you think this new pope will allow it?"
As much as an individual married person hated the Single Life, this does not mean the Single Life is worthy of such fear and contempt. No word of a lie, many Single people are content to wait or follow St. Paul's advice to remain as they are. And many priests get annoyed by heartfelt married-people sighs of "Oh, Father, what a shame you can't get married! Do you think this new pope will allow it?"
Meanwhile, there is no formula for getting married. Yes, a Single woman can enrich her life by figuring out how to win friends and influence people, by becoming the sort of woman that marriage-minded men love to be around, by overcoming any anti-social personality traits, by participating in enjoyable activities with like-minded people, by making lots of new friends. But none of these things will guarantee that she will fall in love with a man who falls in love with her and proposes marriage. There are no guarantees about the life-altering decisions of other people.
When Mom Nags
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
One of the absolute worst things about the Single life is having one's own mother nagging one about being Single. It is a betrayal on a massive scale because Mom/Mum is usually the person you instinctively go to when you are feeling down and out or sick. This sometimes has absolutely nothing to do with the woman herself, but some infant instinct in our brain that still occasionally wails "Maaaamaaaaa!"
So it is awful when you are having a good day, or a lousy day, and you are enjoying your proximity to your mother, your first home, and suddenly she starts in on you about being Single. It's bad enough if you intend to be Single and are purposefully Single; when you don't want to be Single, it's a knife to the heart.
For the record, my mother did not nag me about being Single after I got divorced, even when I got my annulment and was theologically Single again with papers to prove it. She did second-guess my decisions to end dating relationships, however. Not being a mother, I am not sure why mothers do this. Maybe it's caused by an overflow of worry or resentment for having been in the orbit of yet another younger-generation drama.
I am trying to put myself in a mother's shoes, and see Singleness from a nagging mother's perspective. I never had any children, but I have twenty-something friends whose mothers are near my age, so I can imagine having a twenty-two year old daughter, at oldest. And frankly I would not give a darn if my twenty-two year old daughter were Single. In fact, I would rather that she were Single--especially Single and not dating---and concentrating on her university courses, her apprenticeship program or her fledgling business.
I would be much more annoyed if she were wasting her time chasing boys, or dating some happy-go-lucky simpleton, or (worse) a snarling control-freak, and that is where the temptation to meddle would probably get the better of me. I would write long blog posts for her, pretending that they were not for her, should she actually bother to read them. ("No, darling, what are you talking about? I was writing generally.")
But I like to think that once my darling daughter was established in her career, trade or business, that I would leave her alone, and hold my counsel, unless she came timidly to me for advice, and then I would let her have it, both barrels.
Sitting here in my imaginary mother-chair, I am open to the idea that mothers sometimes know what they are talking about. I know this is a radical idea, so I will quickly state that mothers very often haven't the foggiest clue.
If your mother married at twenty and had six children and her world is mostly church, the family business, the supermarket, the library and the mall, she very likely does not have a grasp of what it is like to be a Single woman your age. She thinks she does because she watches TV, but she doesn't because TV is not real life. Cute physicists with great jobs but lots of time just to hang out do not live across the hall from you. Nor is there a man at work who looks just like Angel, that is, David Boreanaz.
I think about what Single Life means for you every day, and yet I do not quite know what it is to be a Single woman your age. You are the experts on that.
However, mothers do know a lot, so it is absolutely worthwhile to listen to what your mother says as impartially as possibly and sort out the sense from the nonsense. For instance, it is nonsense to think that men would fall at your feet if only you cut your bangs (fringe). However, if your mother says you have pretty eyes, than it is indeed possibly that you do have pretty eyes and should show them off.
Meanwhile, since it is one of her principal jobs, your mother is aware of how your moods, behaviours, relationships and choices affect the rest of the people in the household. That can always be a big ol' shock to a young woman: the fact that her personal life, which she thought so private, actually has an impact on those with whom she lives. I can see how a daughter's ignorance of, or indifference to, this would drive a mother crazy.
It can be hard to grasp this, but mothers are just other women. They happen to be the women who affect you more than any other women in the world, but it is helpful to remember that they are really just women with lives of their own. They form their own impressions of the world, and they repeat them if they think this won't get them into trouble. Sometimes these impressions have great merit, and sometimes they don't. Some mothers have great advice, and some mothers do not. Some mothers feel confident about their place in the world, and some tyrannize over their kids because this is the only way they feel any power.
Anyway, sound off in the combox. What advice has your mother given you that was really great? And what advice has she given you that was utterly lousy? Feel free to be anonymous today.
So it is awful when you are having a good day, or a lousy day, and you are enjoying your proximity to your mother, your first home, and suddenly she starts in on you about being Single. It's bad enough if you intend to be Single and are purposefully Single; when you don't want to be Single, it's a knife to the heart.
For the record, my mother did not nag me about being Single after I got divorced, even when I got my annulment and was theologically Single again with papers to prove it. She did second-guess my decisions to end dating relationships, however. Not being a mother, I am not sure why mothers do this. Maybe it's caused by an overflow of worry or resentment for having been in the orbit of yet another younger-generation drama.
I am trying to put myself in a mother's shoes, and see Singleness from a nagging mother's perspective. I never had any children, but I have twenty-something friends whose mothers are near my age, so I can imagine having a twenty-two year old daughter, at oldest. And frankly I would not give a darn if my twenty-two year old daughter were Single. In fact, I would rather that she were Single--especially Single and not dating---and concentrating on her university courses, her apprenticeship program or her fledgling business.
I would be much more annoyed if she were wasting her time chasing boys, or dating some happy-go-lucky simpleton, or (worse) a snarling control-freak, and that is where the temptation to meddle would probably get the better of me. I would write long blog posts for her, pretending that they were not for her, should she actually bother to read them. ("No, darling, what are you talking about? I was writing generally.")
But I like to think that once my darling daughter was established in her career, trade or business, that I would leave her alone, and hold my counsel, unless she came timidly to me for advice, and then I would let her have it, both barrels.
Sitting here in my imaginary mother-chair, I am open to the idea that mothers sometimes know what they are talking about. I know this is a radical idea, so I will quickly state that mothers very often haven't the foggiest clue.
If your mother married at twenty and had six children and her world is mostly church, the family business, the supermarket, the library and the mall, she very likely does not have a grasp of what it is like to be a Single woman your age. She thinks she does because she watches TV, but she doesn't because TV is not real life. Cute physicists with great jobs but lots of time just to hang out do not live across the hall from you. Nor is there a man at work who looks just like Angel, that is, David Boreanaz.
I think about what Single Life means for you every day, and yet I do not quite know what it is to be a Single woman your age. You are the experts on that.
However, mothers do know a lot, so it is absolutely worthwhile to listen to what your mother says as impartially as possibly and sort out the sense from the nonsense. For instance, it is nonsense to think that men would fall at your feet if only you cut your bangs (fringe). However, if your mother says you have pretty eyes, than it is indeed possibly that you do have pretty eyes and should show them off.
Meanwhile, since it is one of her principal jobs, your mother is aware of how your moods, behaviours, relationships and choices affect the rest of the people in the household. That can always be a big ol' shock to a young woman: the fact that her personal life, which she thought so private, actually has an impact on those with whom she lives. I can see how a daughter's ignorance of, or indifference to, this would drive a mother crazy.
It can be hard to grasp this, but mothers are just other women. They happen to be the women who affect you more than any other women in the world, but it is helpful to remember that they are really just women with lives of their own. They form their own impressions of the world, and they repeat them if they think this won't get them into trouble. Sometimes these impressions have great merit, and sometimes they don't. Some mothers have great advice, and some mothers do not. Some mothers feel confident about their place in the world, and some tyrannize over their kids because this is the only way they feel any power.
Anyway, sound off in the combox. What advice has your mother given you that was really great? And what advice has she given you that was utterly lousy? Feel free to be anonymous today.
Easter egg hunting at 23.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
I hope that everyone had a lovely Easter with their fam's! Mine was interesting. As is any gathering with my family. This little toasted marshmallow's kisses (and the new work appropiate outfit my mother gave me instead of candy *thumbs up*)totally made the four and half hours I spent in the car yesterday worth it.
So, let me just preface this bratty post by telling you that since I was 15 every Easter I have gotten either a box/bag of Jelly Bellys with a one hundred dollar bill stapled to it from my grandparents. That hundred bucks was always nice to have right after Spring Break!
Not this year.
Sam and I arrive at my Nana and Papa's for lunch to find out that all of the "big" kids were going to be having our own egg hunt this year and then have to draw for our prize. Alright fine.
It comes time for our hunt. Sam and I (in our church clothes mind you) are waiting outside for everyone when they start trickling out of the house...in workout clothes. Shit just got real serious. Well, I guess I will take off my heels then. One of my Aunts says go and they all take of running like lunatics. I start over on the right side of the yard looking for those stupid little eggs. I find two. I walk over to another island in the yard and start looking when the same Aunt decides to yell "I see three over here!" Referring to where I am currently looking. Awesome. Screw this.
I walk over to my mother and told her that I am done. She told me that she was surprised that I had participated at all. Good. Glad I did my part. Sam was a much better sport about it than I was, even though I forced him into it. So that happened and Sam found a whole five dollars! Whoop whoop!
I realize that presents and eggs are not what Easter is about at all. It was really just one of those things though. You get used to things being a certain way and when it changes you don't like it.
Plus, this guy might have something do with my feelings towards the egg business.
I spent far too much money on this hot little number. Only to find out it is back ordered.
Which resulted in some poor eating habits. Not ashamed. Taco Bell saved me from a hangover.
I love eating sushi here! Even though the inside still looks like an O'Charley's ten years later.
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| Not a Easter bunny! A pet bunny for life. |
Not this year.
Sam and I arrive at my Nana and Papa's for lunch to find out that all of the "big" kids were going to be having our own egg hunt this year and then have to draw for our prize. Alright fine.
It comes time for our hunt. Sam and I (in our church clothes mind you) are waiting outside for everyone when they start trickling out of the house...in workout clothes. Shit just got real serious. Well, I guess I will take off my heels then. One of my Aunts says go and they all take of running like lunatics. I start over on the right side of the yard looking for those stupid little eggs. I find two. I walk over to another island in the yard and start looking when the same Aunt decides to yell "I see three over here!" Referring to where I am currently looking. Awesome. Screw this.
I walk over to my mother and told her that I am done. She told me that she was surprised that I had participated at all. Good. Glad I did my part. Sam was a much better sport about it than I was, even though I forced him into it. So that happened and Sam found a whole five dollars! Whoop whoop!
I realize that presents and eggs are not what Easter is about at all. It was really just one of those things though. You get used to things being a certain way and when it changes you don't like it.
Last week was crazy busy and fun. So here is a little recap. I spent far too much money on this hot little number. Only to find out it is back ordered.
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| Ella Moss. Here. |
I decided to hangout with preteens and go see Marron 5 move like Jagger (imposible btw). It was worth it. Although, none of their parents seemed too excited we were there. We may have been slightly intoxicated.
And I will leave you with Dakota cuddling my new prize (which Riley has now eaten) from the Easter Egg Hunt.
Yesterday was Down Syndrome Awareness Day
Friday, March 22, 2013
I went to college at a very small university; it also happens to be the only public Liberal Arts university in the state of Alabama. I decided to go there over Auburn because I had been offered a scholarship to be an English major. Which is exactly what I thought that I wanted to do.
I was a lifeguard and taught swimming lessons during the summers while I was in school and the summer after my freshman year I had a very special family touch my heart.
So when I went back to school in the fall the first thing I did was apply to change my major, even though that meant giving up my scholarship. That was no longer important and both of my parents were totally behind me in my decision. After a couple of weeks I was officially working towards my B.S. majoring in Speech and Language Pathology with a minor in Deaf Studies.
I have since graduated. Although I am not currently working specifically in my field.
Families like this one are who changed me and made me want to be there every step of the way to help these AMAZING children show the world what they can do! In honor of yesterday please go check out this awesome Momma's blog! And meet this precious boy!
I was a lifeguard and taught swimming lessons during the summers while I was in school and the summer after my freshman year I had a very special family touch my heart.
So when I went back to school in the fall the first thing I did was apply to change my major, even though that meant giving up my scholarship. That was no longer important and both of my parents were totally behind me in my decision. After a couple of weeks I was officially working towards my B.S. majoring in Speech and Language Pathology with a minor in Deaf Studies.
I have since graduated. Although I am not currently working specifically in my field.
Families like this one are who changed me and made me want to be there every step of the way to help these AMAZING children show the world what they can do! In honor of yesterday please go check out this awesome Momma's blog! And meet this precious boy!
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| This is Elias! That smile! |
Welcome Aboard the U.S.S. Crazy Ship
Friday, March 15, 2013
Welcome to my new blog! I have never had a blog before, so this will definitely be a learning process!
I have decided to start this blog because I have so many new, exciting and big changes going on in my life right now. And I need a creative outlet that doesn't leave a mess all over my house.
my our future.
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I have decided to start this blog because I have so many new, exciting and big changes going on in my life right now. And I need a creative outlet that doesn't leave a mess all over my house.
- The first and most exciting event in life so far is that I am newly engaged to this sweet boy and cannot wait to see where our adventures take us!
- One of my best friend's got engaged eleven days before I did and she has asked me to stand beside her on her big day and to be her Maid of Honor! After two glasses of wine how could I say no?!....Just Kidding Mo!
I guess we are all getting to be around that age...
- I started a new job the end of January and I could not be happier! This opportunity literally landed in my lap and I am beyond thankful for it.
- Spring Kickball Season started last week and that is always a blast! I highly recommend that you get in on this action! This will be my fourth season playing and Sam's sixth. A great way to spend time with friends and
relaxdrink. It's our Thursday night Drinking Club, but totally counts as excercise. Check it out here. - The last weekend of April I am going on a bacheloreette beach weekend for my friend Nicole with a great group of girls and I could not be more excited for her! I don't know whether I am more excited about the beach or drinking out of penis shaped straws all weekend.
- Then in May, I will taking a long weekend to go to New York City and help Mo SAY YES! TO THE DRESS. I have not been since I was sixteen and I think that this trip will be a completely different experience!
- AND most recently...today was Match Day and my future sister-in-law is now officially a resident for a great hospital in Chicago! Congrats Dr. Lauren! I am so proud of you!
I am not entirely sure what direction I want to take this blog in or a label to put on it, so I think I am going to let it just evolve over time and see what happens. What I do know is that I am going to be myself. This blog is about me, my life, and finding the happy medium. This will not be all butterflies and fluff because...let's be real. Sometimes shit happens.
I like the unknown of it all.
Sweet Potato Fries & Merci Beaucoup!
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Despite my gloomy preparations, B.A. and I survived our Atlantic crossing. My parents met us at the airport with news that the biggest snowstorm in five years would be arriving at 4 PM. Well, it is 2:50 PM, and here is the snow.
Happily, the prediction did not dissuade them from taking us to lunch at one of my favourite local delis, a deli I have been thinking about since the last time I saw an American diner on telly. After pondering matzoh ball soup, kreplach and latkes, I ordered a corned-beef on rye, coleslaw and sweet potato fries. Ahhhh! Home in the neighbourhood! L'Chaim!
"I've only seen corned beef in tins from Argentina," said Scottish B.A. and, later, "This is nothing like corned beef in tins from Argentina."
"Just wait until Montreal," I said. "I will take you to the Schwartz Charcuterie Hebraique where you will have Montreal smoked meat, fries and black cherry cola."
My parents don't live in Scotland, so they may have been taken aback when before lunch I danced in the kitchen shouting, "Jewish food! Jewish food! Yay!"
For two whole weeks I don't even have to look at Scottish food. Whoo-hoo!
The one thing that makes me sad is that it is Tłusty Czwartek, and there is no Polish bakery around in which to queue for pącki (rosehip jam doughnuts). For that I'd have to go a long way downtown--a bus, a subway train, and then another bus, and no, thank you. Especially not now that the snowstorm is here. But a happy Tłusty Czwartek to all my Polish readers!
And now I must send out more thanks and promises of prayers to my latest benefactresses and they are FV, AM, MM, JK, MH and MD. The short-term damage wrought by the reluctance of a debtor to pay me has been almost eradicated. So I am very relieved, and I sincerely hope that none of you threw more in the pot than you could afford. 8-O
Update: Here is my latest, and probably my most depressing, CR column. I wrote it after writing about sexually bullying on this blog and reading your remarks.
Happily, the prediction did not dissuade them from taking us to lunch at one of my favourite local delis, a deli I have been thinking about since the last time I saw an American diner on telly. After pondering matzoh ball soup, kreplach and latkes, I ordered a corned-beef on rye, coleslaw and sweet potato fries. Ahhhh! Home in the neighbourhood! L'Chaim!
"I've only seen corned beef in tins from Argentina," said Scottish B.A. and, later, "This is nothing like corned beef in tins from Argentina."
"Just wait until Montreal," I said. "I will take you to the Schwartz Charcuterie Hebraique where you will have Montreal smoked meat, fries and black cherry cola."
My parents don't live in Scotland, so they may have been taken aback when before lunch I danced in the kitchen shouting, "Jewish food! Jewish food! Yay!"
For two whole weeks I don't even have to look at Scottish food. Whoo-hoo!
The one thing that makes me sad is that it is Tłusty Czwartek, and there is no Polish bakery around in which to queue for pącki (rosehip jam doughnuts). For that I'd have to go a long way downtown--a bus, a subway train, and then another bus, and no, thank you. Especially not now that the snowstorm is here. But a happy Tłusty Czwartek to all my Polish readers!
And now I must send out more thanks and promises of prayers to my latest benefactresses and they are FV, AM, MM, JK, MH and MD. The short-term damage wrought by the reluctance of a debtor to pay me has been almost eradicated. So I am very relieved, and I sincerely hope that none of you threw more in the pot than you could afford. 8-O
Update: Here is my latest, and probably my most depressing, CR column. I wrote it after writing about sexually bullying on this blog and reading your remarks.
American Thanksgiving Singles Survival Game
Thursday, November 22, 2012
It has crept up on me and surprised me at the last minute! Oh my little American Singles, it is the dreaded day of turkey doom, that day upon which you will be asked by random relations you see but once or twice a year the perfidious question: So, dear, do you have a boyfriend yet?
The rules of this game are very simple. You have to pay attention to all references to your long-term single state so that you can report them here. Obviously you are on your honour here, so no padding. Just counting.
And then reporting! Because the best part of the American Thanksgiving Singles Survival Game is telling us all in delicious detail what your Aunt said and then what your Uncle said, and then what your smart-aleck cousin said after that.
In past years readers have reported their own variations on this game, including in-house competitions between sisters.
The beauty of this game is that (like grace) it heals and elevates the stupid So, dear, do you have a boyfriend yet? questions and Don't worry, you'll be next remarks into POINTS! Feel free to bring a piece of paper and pencil to the table. Actually, put a pencil and paper in your pocket right now because sometimes relatives can't walk in the door without immediately saying "So, dear, do you have a boyfriend yet?"
SCENE: A charming family home in Rolling Prairie, Indiana, nestled between cornfields. Ceramic dwarves stand frozen on the lawn in mid-gambol.
The doorbell rings.
Mom: Dear, can you answer that?
You: Okay, Mom.
You open the door and behold on the doorstep Uncle Billy and Aunt Jean from Chicago.
You: Hi, Uncle Billy! Hi, Aunt Jean! Come on in.
Uncle Billy and Aunt Jean come on in.
Uncle Billy: How's my girl? (He seizes you in bear hug.)
You: Great! Ouch!
Aunt Jean: Now, Bill. Leave the girl alone. Let's look at you. My, my. How time does fly. (Her voice sinks.) We must have a proper chat in the kitchen. I want to talk to you.
Uncle Billy (loudly): Uh, oh. Girl stuff. No men allowed!
Aunt Jean: Now, Bill. Don't you start. (Her voice sinks again.) Honey, I read this column in Better Homes and Gardens about Single girls and it made me think of you. Hold on a minute, I'll get it from my purse.
You: I'll be back in a sec.
You rush to your room, seize a pencil and a piece of paper and write a big, thick /.
Mom (yelling up the stairs): Honey?! Why aren't you helping your uncle and aunt with their coats?
You: Coming!
Mom: I don't know what's gotten into that girl.
Aunt Jean: Well, apparently Single girls get a little funny during the holidays. It's the pressure of family expectations. I read about it in Better Home and Gardens.
You write another thick /, making your tally //. You feel a thrill of early victory. It's only three in the afternoon: depending on what's happening on the East Coast and Florida, you could be in the lead!
Uncle Bill: Don't be silly, Jean. There's nothing about that girl a good boyfriend wouldn't solve.
///
You: I'm coming! Sorry, Aunt Jean.
Aunt Jean: That's okay, dear. I'm all right and tight.
Uncle Bill: She's all right but not yet tight! Where's the punch? It's party time!
Aunt Jean: Oh, Bill. (She turns to you.) Now dear. Into the kitchen with you.
Uncle Bill: Uh oh. Here comes the grilling. Give only your name, rank and serial number!
Aunt Jean: Oh, Bill. Really, that man. You just wait till you're married, hon, and then you'll understand what we all have to put up with.
////
****
Let the games begin!
The rules of this game are very simple. You have to pay attention to all references to your long-term single state so that you can report them here. Obviously you are on your honour here, so no padding. Just counting.
And then reporting! Because the best part of the American Thanksgiving Singles Survival Game is telling us all in delicious detail what your Aunt said and then what your Uncle said, and then what your smart-aleck cousin said after that.
In past years readers have reported their own variations on this game, including in-house competitions between sisters.
The beauty of this game is that (like grace) it heals and elevates the stupid So, dear, do you have a boyfriend yet? questions and Don't worry, you'll be next remarks into POINTS! Feel free to bring a piece of paper and pencil to the table. Actually, put a pencil and paper in your pocket right now because sometimes relatives can't walk in the door without immediately saying "So, dear, do you have a boyfriend yet?"
SCENE: A charming family home in Rolling Prairie, Indiana, nestled between cornfields. Ceramic dwarves stand frozen on the lawn in mid-gambol.
The doorbell rings.
Mom: Dear, can you answer that?
You: Okay, Mom.
You open the door and behold on the doorstep Uncle Billy and Aunt Jean from Chicago.
You: Hi, Uncle Billy! Hi, Aunt Jean! Come on in.
Uncle Billy and Aunt Jean come on in.
Uncle Billy: How's my girl? (He seizes you in bear hug.)
You: Great! Ouch!
Aunt Jean: Now, Bill. Leave the girl alone. Let's look at you. My, my. How time does fly. (Her voice sinks.) We must have a proper chat in the kitchen. I want to talk to you.
Uncle Billy (loudly): Uh, oh. Girl stuff. No men allowed!
Aunt Jean: Now, Bill. Don't you start. (Her voice sinks again.) Honey, I read this column in Better Homes and Gardens about Single girls and it made me think of you. Hold on a minute, I'll get it from my purse.
You: I'll be back in a sec.
You rush to your room, seize a pencil and a piece of paper and write a big, thick /.
Mom (yelling up the stairs): Honey?! Why aren't you helping your uncle and aunt with their coats?
You: Coming!
Mom: I don't know what's gotten into that girl.
Aunt Jean: Well, apparently Single girls get a little funny during the holidays. It's the pressure of family expectations. I read about it in Better Home and Gardens.
You write another thick /, making your tally //. You feel a thrill of early victory. It's only three in the afternoon: depending on what's happening on the East Coast and Florida, you could be in the lead!
Uncle Bill: Don't be silly, Jean. There's nothing about that girl a good boyfriend wouldn't solve.
///
You: I'm coming! Sorry, Aunt Jean.
Aunt Jean: That's okay, dear. I'm all right and tight.
Uncle Bill: She's all right but not yet tight! Where's the punch? It's party time!
Aunt Jean: Oh, Bill. (She turns to you.) Now dear. Into the kitchen with you.
Uncle Bill: Uh oh. Here comes the grilling. Give only your name, rank and serial number!
Aunt Jean: Oh, Bill. Really, that man. You just wait till you're married, hon, and then you'll understand what we all have to put up with.
////
****
Let the games begin!
The Cemetery in Kraków
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Next year I will write about this for my paper, but I have been writing to a Polish friend about it, so B.A.'s and my visit to a cemetery in Kraków on All Saints Day is very much on my mind.
There is still huge cultural pressure on young people in Poland to get married or embrace religious life, which is great when it comes to making adults behave like adults when otherwise they'd be tempted to become perpetual teenagers, but awful when it comes to women who don't have boyfriends or a religious vocation. The beauty and usefulness of unmarried, unconsecrated aunts must be stressed and celebrated. Maybe there should be a worldwide League of Extraordinary Single Aunts.
And I have a good reason to stress the family ties of Aunts, especially in Poland, because one of the sorrows of Singles is the idea that they don't have families when OF COURSE they have families. We're all born into families, and Poland has the family-friendliest culture I've ever seen. It even beats Italy because although Italians love children, too many (most?) married Italians have spent the past 40 years short-sightedly contracepting Italy towards extinction.
Nothing proved to me the importance of family in Poland more than All Saints's Day. All Saint's Day is a public holiday there, and Poles spend the day and night visiting and tidying the graves of their deceased relations. When B.A. and I were waiting very early in the morning for a tram, I noticed that the one that terminated at a cemetery was absolutely crammed with riders. And even on our less-crowded tram, there were many people with big bundles of flowers and pine branches in dirty plastic bags.
We went to Mass, in part because All Saint's Day is a Holy Day of Obligation in both Poland and Scotland, and after lunch, and fruitless attempts to see art or shop (the galleries and most shops were understandably closed), and a cancelled engagement, we decided to go to a cemetery ourselves.
I was in a tired and frustrated mood from linguistic difficulties, organizational shortcomings, and insomnia, but as we walked to the cemetery, joining the steady stream of people with flowers, branches and dirty plastic bags, and passing the opposite stream of people who now had just the bags, my heart began to lift. We were obviously witnessing something very new to us and very important to Polish culture. Tourists love to be "in the know", and it seemed that we were "in the know."
When we got to the cemetery, we crowded in as others crowded out, and there was still enough light in the early-darkening November sky to read the map. There were two long lists of the names of famous Krakowians buried there. I didn't see the Wojyła family mentioned, but I recognized the names Jan Matejko (the painter), Helena Modrzejewska (the singer) and--especially--Roman Ingarden, Saint Edith Stein's friend and colleague. So having located "our" grave, B.A. and I walked along the avenues to find it.
The tombstones were all raised; they were all big enough to sit on, and there were no flat markers on grass such as we see most of the time in Canada and the USA. They were more like real homes on real avenues; it was a city of the dead. There were trees and tombs as far as the eye could see in all direction, and each and every tomb had coloured, candlelit glass lamps on it. No tomb had been left neglected. There were several lamps on and around the Ingarden tomb; I wondered if family, colleagues or fans had left them there.
There were people everywhere, quiet but chatty and cheerful. Of course I could not understand most of what they said, but I could hear grandsons asking grandmothers how far away their grave was, and grandmothers assuring them not much further. A woman asked me in Polish, and then in a mix of English and Polish, where the Wojtyła grave was, and when I confessed to not knowing, she consulted an older woman who gave complicated directions with much dramatic pointing. In a distant corner, a middle-aged father and college-age son worked silent on and around a flat, raised tombstone, taking lamps and branches from bags.
From a small but ornate chapel, prayers and hymns were so amplified that we could hear them from at least a short distance away. And behind the chapel was a memorial to the victims of communism, in the form of a cross being grasped by many disembodied hands. There was a big crowd of people standing silently before this memorial, and in front of them hundreds of coloured, candlelit, glass lamps. No doubt some of the people were praying for family members who died in the horrors of the Stalinist period and after, but I suspect they were including all the victims in their prayers.
It was not just about family, this quiet cemetery festival. It was about neighbours and nation, too, and the Catholic awareness that our dead--the Church Suffering and the Church Triumphant--are still part of our Church, still part of our families, and should not be left forgotten and neglected by us. For the first time in my life, I was well and truly ashamed of the Canadian/American Hallowe'en, with its pagan enjoyment of ghouls and prurient attitude towards our locked and silent graveyards. As a child in a Catholic school, I was directed to make spooky graveyard scenes with tombstones, ghosts, bats and skeletons, spindly trees, comic epitaphs. It was fun, but it had nothing to do with Catholicism because it had nothing to do with love.
The cemetery in Kraków was full of love. Not romantic, sexual love, although perhaps that was there, too, flickering in the hearts of widows and widowers and surviving sweethearts as they prayed for their lost beloveds. Just love: love for family, love for neighbours, love for the dead, love for the saints and parents of saints. Love for God. Love.
There is still huge cultural pressure on young people in Poland to get married or embrace religious life, which is great when it comes to making adults behave like adults when otherwise they'd be tempted to become perpetual teenagers, but awful when it comes to women who don't have boyfriends or a religious vocation. The beauty and usefulness of unmarried, unconsecrated aunts must be stressed and celebrated. Maybe there should be a worldwide League of Extraordinary Single Aunts.
And I have a good reason to stress the family ties of Aunts, especially in Poland, because one of the sorrows of Singles is the idea that they don't have families when OF COURSE they have families. We're all born into families, and Poland has the family-friendliest culture I've ever seen. It even beats Italy because although Italians love children, too many (most?) married Italians have spent the past 40 years short-sightedly contracepting Italy towards extinction.
Nothing proved to me the importance of family in Poland more than All Saints's Day. All Saint's Day is a public holiday there, and Poles spend the day and night visiting and tidying the graves of their deceased relations. When B.A. and I were waiting very early in the morning for a tram, I noticed that the one that terminated at a cemetery was absolutely crammed with riders. And even on our less-crowded tram, there were many people with big bundles of flowers and pine branches in dirty plastic bags.
We went to Mass, in part because All Saint's Day is a Holy Day of Obligation in both Poland and Scotland, and after lunch, and fruitless attempts to see art or shop (the galleries and most shops were understandably closed), and a cancelled engagement, we decided to go to a cemetery ourselves.
I was in a tired and frustrated mood from linguistic difficulties, organizational shortcomings, and insomnia, but as we walked to the cemetery, joining the steady stream of people with flowers, branches and dirty plastic bags, and passing the opposite stream of people who now had just the bags, my heart began to lift. We were obviously witnessing something very new to us and very important to Polish culture. Tourists love to be "in the know", and it seemed that we were "in the know."
When we got to the cemetery, we crowded in as others crowded out, and there was still enough light in the early-darkening November sky to read the map. There were two long lists of the names of famous Krakowians buried there. I didn't see the Wojyła family mentioned, but I recognized the names Jan Matejko (the painter), Helena Modrzejewska (the singer) and--especially--Roman Ingarden, Saint Edith Stein's friend and colleague. So having located "our" grave, B.A. and I walked along the avenues to find it.
The tombstones were all raised; they were all big enough to sit on, and there were no flat markers on grass such as we see most of the time in Canada and the USA. They were more like real homes on real avenues; it was a city of the dead. There were trees and tombs as far as the eye could see in all direction, and each and every tomb had coloured, candlelit glass lamps on it. No tomb had been left neglected. There were several lamps on and around the Ingarden tomb; I wondered if family, colleagues or fans had left them there.
There were people everywhere, quiet but chatty and cheerful. Of course I could not understand most of what they said, but I could hear grandsons asking grandmothers how far away their grave was, and grandmothers assuring them not much further. A woman asked me in Polish, and then in a mix of English and Polish, where the Wojtyła grave was, and when I confessed to not knowing, she consulted an older woman who gave complicated directions with much dramatic pointing. In a distant corner, a middle-aged father and college-age son worked silent on and around a flat, raised tombstone, taking lamps and branches from bags.
From a small but ornate chapel, prayers and hymns were so amplified that we could hear them from at least a short distance away. And behind the chapel was a memorial to the victims of communism, in the form of a cross being grasped by many disembodied hands. There was a big crowd of people standing silently before this memorial, and in front of them hundreds of coloured, candlelit, glass lamps. No doubt some of the people were praying for family members who died in the horrors of the Stalinist period and after, but I suspect they were including all the victims in their prayers.
It was not just about family, this quiet cemetery festival. It was about neighbours and nation, too, and the Catholic awareness that our dead--the Church Suffering and the Church Triumphant--are still part of our Church, still part of our families, and should not be left forgotten and neglected by us. For the first time in my life, I was well and truly ashamed of the Canadian/American Hallowe'en, with its pagan enjoyment of ghouls and prurient attitude towards our locked and silent graveyards. As a child in a Catholic school, I was directed to make spooky graveyard scenes with tombstones, ghosts, bats and skeletons, spindly trees, comic epitaphs. It was fun, but it had nothing to do with Catholicism because it had nothing to do with love.
The cemetery in Kraków was full of love. Not romantic, sexual love, although perhaps that was there, too, flickering in the hearts of widows and widowers and surviving sweethearts as they prayed for their lost beloveds. Just love: love for family, love for neighbours, love for the dead, love for the saints and parents of saints. Love for God. Love.
Being an Aunt is Cool
Thursday, March 29, 2012
No time to blog this morning, for I am in Montreal with my niece, her brother and their nanny, the incomparable Alisha.
The advantages of aunthood are many. First, you have children in your life whom you love and who are supposed to love you, and are happy to do so, at least when they are small. Second, childcare is definitely a part-time thing. You might have (or look like you have) tons of laudable patience, but it stems from the fact that talking a toddler down from a temper tantrum is a rare treat for a usually absentee aunt, not business as usual.
When Pirate was born, I told a colleague that that was pressure off me to have kids. He looked consoling, assuming my parents were pressuring me to get married and have kids. But they certainly weren't. It was my own internal clock that was the nag. It said, "Have kids. Have kids. Have kids. Your family isn't getting any younger, you know."
But then Pirate was born, assuring the future of The Family, and now there are Peanut and Popcorn, too. And I see in all this the advantage of not thinking of yourself primarily (or exclusively) as an INDIVIDUAL but as part of something bigger than yourself, which in my case has always been The Family and also, of course, The Church.
Although I am a huge fan of romantic love, I think one of the things about marriage is that it is about bringing very cool people into your original family and then co-operating with them to bring more people into it. It's not all about you and what you want, but what (and who) will help The Family thrive.
(I recognize, of course, that some of you simply don't have sustainable biological families, and for sanity's sake have created the next best thing.)
Just enough time to pick a new swashbuckling protector for the day, and then I must wash and dress. My nephew has eyed my nightdress with disapproval and informed me that I need clothes.
The advantages of aunthood are many. First, you have children in your life whom you love and who are supposed to love you, and are happy to do so, at least when they are small. Second, childcare is definitely a part-time thing. You might have (or look like you have) tons of laudable patience, but it stems from the fact that talking a toddler down from a temper tantrum is a rare treat for a usually absentee aunt, not business as usual.
When Pirate was born, I told a colleague that that was pressure off me to have kids. He looked consoling, assuming my parents were pressuring me to get married and have kids. But they certainly weren't. It was my own internal clock that was the nag. It said, "Have kids. Have kids. Have kids. Your family isn't getting any younger, you know."
But then Pirate was born, assuring the future of The Family, and now there are Peanut and Popcorn, too. And I see in all this the advantage of not thinking of yourself primarily (or exclusively) as an INDIVIDUAL but as part of something bigger than yourself, which in my case has always been The Family and also, of course, The Church.
Although I am a huge fan of romantic love, I think one of the things about marriage is that it is about bringing very cool people into your original family and then co-operating with them to bring more people into it. It's not all about you and what you want, but what (and who) will help The Family thrive.
(I recognize, of course, that some of you simply don't have sustainable biological families, and for sanity's sake have created the next best thing.)
Just enough time to pick a new swashbuckling protector for the day, and then I must wash and dress. My nephew has eyed my nightdress with disapproval and informed me that I need clothes.
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