I did a poor job of parking in the driveway last night.
And my husband was sure to let me know about it.
"You couldnt have parked in a worse place, Erica!" he said. "Had you pulled up 5 feet more, you wouldnt have parked-in my truck."
When i told him that our 6 month old had been in hysterics for nearly 20 minutes during my drive home and that, just as i pulled up to the house, she'd vomitted for a second time (a second time!!) and began choking on it, and that THIS was the reason why i just slammed it in park without regard for the truck, he responded in a convicted and unsympathetic manner:
"That's no excuse."
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Why Morning Shows are Worthless at Best
“Oh, yes! We are definitely waiting to have children until we’re financially secure,” said the confident fiancé to the middle-aged Morning Show hostess.
What does that mean? "Financially secure?" A more subjective standard doesn’t exist, I’m sure! At what point in history did it become a virtue for a young couple to proclaim that all-too-common mantra of twenty-something newly weds? And since when did it become necessary for society to make young lovers feel guilty for wanting to, without hesitation, invest in one of the greatest gifts God could ever give to spouses?
I am one who believes that children are one of the greatest riches a family could ever possess. A person. Can’t hardly put a dollar value on that! And the way I figure, if a couple can afford a wedding, they can ‘afford’ a bambino immediately thereafter.
Why purposefully deny yourself, or your spouse, or your other children that which has worth beyond measure? Why pretend it’s responsible "to save up for” that which God alone gives freely to even the most impoverished of peoples?
Perhaps the difference between this infectious Western mentality and the thinking of the poor is the degree to which each trusts in God’s Providence? I’ve heard it said that the faith of the monetarily impoverished is more easily steadfast than the faith of the wealthy… and there’s some truth to that. Being poor in spirit (financial status aside) has the same effect.
Someone once said that we cannot serve both God and mammon…. so let’s listen to that wisdom and try to straighten out our concerns. And tell those Morning Show hosts to back-off, while we’re at it.
What does that mean? "Financially secure?" A more subjective standard doesn’t exist, I’m sure! At what point in history did it become a virtue for a young couple to proclaim that all-too-common mantra of twenty-something newly weds? And since when did it become necessary for society to make young lovers feel guilty for wanting to, without hesitation, invest in one of the greatest gifts God could ever give to spouses?
I am one who believes that children are one of the greatest riches a family could ever possess. A person. Can’t hardly put a dollar value on that! And the way I figure, if a couple can afford a wedding, they can ‘afford’ a bambino immediately thereafter.
Why purposefully deny yourself, or your spouse, or your other children that which has worth beyond measure? Why pretend it’s responsible "to save up for” that which God alone gives freely to even the most impoverished of peoples?
Perhaps the difference between this infectious Western mentality and the thinking of the poor is the degree to which each trusts in God’s Providence? I’ve heard it said that the faith of the monetarily impoverished is more easily steadfast than the faith of the wealthy… and there’s some truth to that. Being poor in spirit (financial status aside) has the same effect.
Someone once said that we cannot serve both God and mammon…. so let’s listen to that wisdom and try to straighten out our concerns. And tell those Morning Show hosts to back-off, while we’re at it.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
1001 Excuses
I like to think my life is somewhat technologically advanced, seeing as how i have electricity and grocery stores and access to online shopping. But i am still disgustingly busy!
With all of the milking and plowing and sowing and harvesting and butter churning and horse breaking and mending and ale-brewing and butchering and cooking and cleaning and socializing that people of olden times did, i just dont see how they ever found the time to blog!
With all of the milking and plowing and sowing and harvesting and butter churning and horse breaking and mending and ale-brewing and butchering and cooking and cleaning and socializing that people of olden times did, i just dont see how they ever found the time to blog!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Fly Smashing
It’s one of my new favorite pastimes.
In the past week, it has been made clear to me that the mommy and daddy flies out in these parts are anything but Chinese. There are probably more of these winged satans per square inch in my kitchen than there are oriental personages per 1000 square miles in their country. Blame it on the weather, blame it on whatever you will - this ordeal is wreaking havoc on my obsessive-compulsive domestic self-esteem!
Unfortunately, our flyswatter was lost in the move back in December, and we’ve been unarmed out in bug country ever since. Unarmed, that is, unless you count my moves-too-slow-to-sneak-up-on-a-bug-with-a-million-eyes-hand that’s at the end of my own arm. You’re right – that hardly qualifies as an adequate executor of fly obliteration… especially if I am a little timid to get bug guts on my bare hand. Yeeesh!
Lucky for me, my husband recently left an Ohio Catholic Education Association Conference News Gazette (which boasts a session entitled Just Environmental Spirituality by Sr. Leanne M. Jablonski, FMI, Ph.D. (Pshaw!)) in the middle of the war zone.
Ahhhh, a weapon.
Now I’m whacking nasty flies like someone’s paying me to do it. And since that priceless piece of print media guarantees that my hands stay bug-gut-free, I’m smashing those good-for-only-their-Creator-knows-what-insects so fast and hard that they’re practically disintegrating on impact.
The flies are fewer. My self-image is rising. And I’m even getting compliments. Says the toddler: “Hey! Mommy, you’re good at this game! Did you know that, Mommy?”
Thank you, my dear son. I’ll be dropping a nickel in your John Deere piggy bank to compensate you for wiping up all those smashed fly guts with your breakfast napkin.
In the past week, it has been made clear to me that the mommy and daddy flies out in these parts are anything but Chinese. There are probably more of these winged satans per square inch in my kitchen than there are oriental personages per 1000 square miles in their country. Blame it on the weather, blame it on whatever you will - this ordeal is wreaking havoc on my obsessive-compulsive domestic self-esteem!
Unfortunately, our flyswatter was lost in the move back in December, and we’ve been unarmed out in bug country ever since. Unarmed, that is, unless you count my moves-too-slow-to-sneak-up-on-a-bug-with-a-million-eyes-hand that’s at the end of my own arm. You’re right – that hardly qualifies as an adequate executor of fly obliteration… especially if I am a little timid to get bug guts on my bare hand. Yeeesh!
Lucky for me, my husband recently left an Ohio Catholic Education Association Conference News Gazette (which boasts a session entitled Just Environmental Spirituality by Sr. Leanne M. Jablonski, FMI, Ph.D. (Pshaw!)) in the middle of the war zone.
Ahhhh, a weapon.
Now I’m whacking nasty flies like someone’s paying me to do it. And since that priceless piece of print media guarantees that my hands stay bug-gut-free, I’m smashing those good-for-only-their-Creator-knows-what-insects so fast and hard that they’re practically disintegrating on impact.
The flies are fewer. My self-image is rising. And I’m even getting compliments. Says the toddler: “Hey! Mommy, you’re good at this game! Did you know that, Mommy?”
Thank you, my dear son. I’ll be dropping a nickel in your John Deere piggy bank to compensate you for wiping up all those smashed fly guts with your breakfast napkin.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Why the laundry sits unfolded
After multiple recommendations by anonymous sisters-in-law, i finally picked up Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset. LOVE IT!! I'd like to think there are some fire-side, coffee-filled chats at future family gatherings....
Sunday, September 09, 2007
We've got 'em
Bunnies!!!!!
Cute and fluffy as they are, i surprise myself that the first thing that comes to mind when i do my twice-daily bunny chores is, "Mmmm."
Should i seek therapy?
Friday, September 07, 2007
Eggs for Sale
It's official.
The hens of Honeysuckle Run are laying eggs - lots of them!
Our flock consists of 25 standard sized Barred Plymouth Rocks, Gold Laced Wyandottes, Dominiques, Light Brown Leghorns, Black Jersey Giants, and one bantam Porcelain Bearded Belgian d'Uccle. Beautiful birds!
These girls are farm raised, forage for a lot of their food, and are fed unmedicated laying feed. As close to organic as you can get without being certified. Their eggs are super healthy, have strong brown shells, and rich orange yolks.
Needless to say, despite my frequent integration of eggs into almost all of our meals, my family of 3 table eaters and one nursing babe is pretty overwhelmed by eggs right now. And we want to share the wealth.... for a small small price.
Our offer?
One dozen farm fresh eggs for $1. (N.B. This price even beats ALDI!)
If any locals are interested in purchasing these delicious eggs, you know how to contact us. ;)
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Ignorance is Bliss
A headline of the National Catholic Register read the following:
HUGO’S EGO: Chavez Steps Up His Attacks on Venezuela’s Catholics
The resident toddler saw me reading this periodical, saw the bust photo of ol’ Hugo, pointed, and said, “Look, Mommy! A priest!”
Not so, my son. Not so.
The very next headline of the same edition featured a picture of polygamist Tom Green and his six wives, to which my little guy assigned this narration:
“Hey, it’s a man. And that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and THAT’S his mommy.”
Oy.
HUGO’S EGO: Chavez Steps Up His Attacks on Venezuela’s Catholics
The resident toddler saw me reading this periodical, saw the bust photo of ol’ Hugo, pointed, and said, “Look, Mommy! A priest!”
Not so, my son. Not so.
The very next headline of the same edition featured a picture of polygamist Tom Green and his six wives, to which my little guy assigned this narration:
“Hey, it’s a man. And that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and that’s his mommy, and THAT’S his mommy.”
Oy.
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