House Memories

When I was eleven years old my Dad started building a house. He had help pouring the slab and framing the ground floor, then he fired the contractor and decided to do everything himself with Mom's help. He worked hard every night until late there, sweaty and dirty. The weekends and nights I spent in that towering shell of a structure with him, holding the hammer and the ladder, passing him nails, getting him food from the cooler, and sweeping sawdust were some of the best times of my childhood. They were mostly quiet moments, where I just watched in wonder at his skill, but we also talked, a lot.

It took a year before we could move in. And for years after that I often laid in my bed absorbing the fact that he built that room for me, wired the outlets, designed the closet, hung the sheetrock. I felt really taken care of, like being held like a baby, because even the floor that held everything had been crafted and carpeted by my own father's hands. I made the connection early between this feeling and God's loving care. That room became a sacrament of sorts for me.

Thirty years later, I still get a nostalgic endorphin rush from the smell of freshly cut two-by-fours.


And when my Dad came to help me install a shower in my own house a few months ago, there I was, again, hammer in hand, standing by to do whatever he needed to make the job easier for him, standing there amazed, again, this time that a man his age can still tackle a project with energy, skill and enthusiasm. I felt like that kid again, and realized that for as long as I live, in relationship to him, I will always be that happy child.

Well, the old house is up for sale again, and my mother came across the listing online. The house has been completely remodeled, but the structure is still the same. Scroll down to see all the pictures. The green bedroom was mine.

Here's my pick for American Idol

OK, it is a week late, but I needed some time to make up my mind. The girls are completely forgettable except the one whose father died the day before she auditioned and the one that looks and sings just like Carrie Underwood. The guys have it this year, though, and the winner will be .... David Archuleta. He's 17 years young with the heart and voice of a man twice his age, yet he appeals to the teeny-boppers and makes them set up ridiculous fansites and swoon at the mere mention of his name. Take a look at his latest performance:

Winter Wonderland

It has been a while. Here are some pictures from our latest snowstorm. The flakes were so sticky they almost adhered to to the bottoms of things.

Catholics Come Home

There's a new multi-pronged initiative to bring Catholics back into the Church, which utilizes the power of the internet and mass media to reach out. Please visit the site here, click "skip intro," scroll down to the bottom, and play the video entitled "Epic" (there's a little girl receiving first Communion on the thumbnail picture). That video makes me cry every time I watch it. Tell me what you think!

Bring Kyle Back!

OK, I still love American Idol, but I'm so disappointed that they didn't let Kyle Ensley into the top 24. Yeah, he isn't the best singer, but he is adorable, likable, charming, and talented. Simon blasted him by calling one performance "rubbish" then when Kyle came back again for his last audition, Simon apologized and then at some point told him something like "You've got something that I wish I had." Pretty huge compliment, I'd say.

Please put up with another video just so I can show those of you who don't watch the show how a really lovely personality can shine through. Wouldn't we all like to have kids this nice? Can you believe that kids this nice still can make it into popular culture and earn the affection of countless people online who are clamoring for him to be brought back?

Watch to the end to see how gracious he is.



And later when he was told he wasn't going to make it any further, despite his excellent performance, Simon spoke up in the strongest terms to say that he completely disagreed with Randy and Paula on this one. I do too.

American Idol Hollywood Week!

FINALLY! American Idol is getting down to business. After watching the two hour Hollywood Week episode, I remembered how much I STILL LOVE THIS SHOW! So, I'm a kid at heart. And a talent junkie.

This year I think the guys have the upper hand.

There was one performance that, if there was a recording of it available on iTunes, I would download it today. Watch it now, because it might get pulled from YouTube because it's skimmed from the TV. This guy, David Hernandez, is like a non-gargoyle-looking Elliot Yamin. Hang in there through the set up.



I also liked the 19 year old kid, Josiah, who has been living in his car for the past year, not because he's such a great singer, but because he has this fragile vulnerability that makes for very compelling performances. He must have a hold on the judges, too, because he completely bombed the last round and they let him through anyway on the strength of his past singing.

Next Wednesday I'm going on the record to make my predictions. For now, though, I'm putting my money on David.

What Gymnastics Has (Re)Taught Me

We are in the middle of Helena's first competitive gymnastics season, and the learning curve has been steep. I'm not talking about the increasingly difficult skills involved, either. Her participation in this sport has given us a perfect context within which to discuss principles that will help her for a lifetime, long after the spring has gone out of her hands. Here's just a sampling:

--There will always be someone you are better than and someone who is better than you,

--Natural talent will only take you so far, after that hard work is what determines what kind of athlete (or person) you are,

--Pain for the sake of something you love is valuable,

--Winning isn't everything,

--The only person you have to be better than is you yesterday,

--Discipline is doing it even when you don't want to,

--Bad days happen,

--Progress, even small, is still progress,

--Have fun,

--Friends make it all worthwhile, and

--Know that there will always be things you don't like, and that's OK.

Even though these things seem trite when written in a nice little list, I am amazed at how this sport has introduced these ideas so concretely and meaningfully into my seven-year-old's life. She doesn't really "get" it, but the experiences she is having provide daily examples to illustrate those truths.

"Remember how you had to do over a thousand bad back handsprings before you got good at it?"
"Remember when you didn't want to go to practice, but you did anyway and that day you got your vault?"
"Julie has worked for two years on the same routine. That's why she's so good at it."
"It hurts, but look how strong you are getting."
"Jenny is better on vault, but you're better on floor. Everyone has their own gifts."

Such wisdom was absent from my experience growing up, which makes me all the more grateful for the chance to help her learn early what was so painful for me to learn late.

I reflect on these things now because just one year ago she had her first USA Gymnastics competition:



And this is her now:



And what shows up on the video is nothing compared to the rich experience this past year has been for all of us.

Google Reader is No Blogger's Friend

Hey! I'm registering a complaint against Google Reader. Why did I work so hard on making my blog look pretty (do ya think that picture of flowers on the top there is a stock photo? That's one of my aprons!) only to have people read the blog from the sterile environment of Google Reader? Choose pretty, folks!

And another thing. You bloggers like to see who is reading your stuff don't you? Well, you can't when someone reads is from Google Reader. NO hits today, not one!!! So maybe it had to do with me saying I was going on hiatus. Anyway, I know that there are subscribers to my blog, because I checked (don't check, there are only three)! But all I know is the number of subscribers, not WHO they are. I want to KNOW when Marie comes to visit, despite the fact that I've known her for almost five years and never had the pleasure of a real conversation with her!!!

I'm not against technology, and if you need a reading material manager because you have so much to keep up with, then use one. Fine, next time I won't go cross-eyed trying to pick the right colors for my blog, and I guess I won't bother with stats, either (which, as Marie pointed out, can cause a bit of an OCD problem, anyway).

Now I'm REALLY going on hiatus (but please come back just to give me a hit "hi," OK?).

Composting the Little Stuff

I'm breaking my hiatus because this is just the kind of thing I wanted to make a blog for (yeah, hanging preposition -- shoot me)! I love to solve practical problems and share them with people. And, believe it or not, I've gotten more search engine hits for the "How to make a dress up cape" than for any other thing, so I'm going to put something else out there that could be of some real use to somebody (thought not probably to my normal buddies).

I've had a compost pile for a couple of years and get really good dirt from it. Trying to keep things simple, I built it with supplies that people use to build little enclosures for animals. It only is made of four metal posts I hammered into the ground and some plastic mesh fence that stands about 2 1/2 feet tall which is wrapped around the posts and tied to them. Then I just put everything in there (leaves, clippings, grass, food - absolutely NO meat) and stir it with a pitchfork every once in a while.

But here's the problem. I would only compost food when I was producing a large quantity of scraps at one time, like when making a large meal or peeling pounds and pounds of produce. Every time I would peel just a couple of things the scraps routinely went into the trash. It always bugged me because it seemed like such a waste, but I didn't like the idea of storing the little stuff on the counter until the end of the day when it could be taken out, because it can smell and it looks gross. Plus, if I'm feeling lazy at the end of the day, then it stays there overnight and gets even worse.

I have friends who keep a lidded container on the counter, which helps with the smell and the gross, but their containers always had so much old junk stuck to the walls of them that it grossed me out, too. Plus, emptying the container sometimes would mean violently shaking it over the compost pile, something I can't get my four year old to do, and I want him to help cart stuff out there. And the idea of having the clean out the container every time just added a step and made it less likely that the container would get emptied. Plus, when the container gets cleaned out, the little bits get stuck to the sink which then needs to be dealt with. Too much work.

That whole cleaning-out-the-container thing was an enormous impediment until I realized that a one gallon Glad Bag would fit nicely in a 6 inch lidded container. With my big idea brewing, I bought a nice black container at TJ Maxx (Wal-Mart also has stainless steel ones for around $7.00). The bag was a great start to a solution, and it reminded me of my very skilled housekeeper of a mother-in-law who follows the religion of "if you don't want to clean it, then make sure it doesn't get dirty in the first place." The bag keeps me from having to clean the container, and since it is clear it looks good on the counter. But then I threw away the first bag the first night (because I didn't want the little bits left over, plus the edges got all dirty) and realized that throwing away a plastic bag in the name of the environmentalist action of composting was a little strange.

How about using a paper bag instead? Then I could just throw the whole thing into the pile! So I cut off the tops of some paper bags (for later) and put one in the container. It fit perfectly. I kept the plastic bag in there because scraps tend to be wet, and it can be changed when necessary. Now I just compost the paper bag liner along with the scraps without having to deal with slimy residue. Plus, the kids can march it out there easily.

Going on Hiatus

It's a shame to have to admit such a thing, but this blog is too distracting for me! I know, there's not much I put out there, and it is all pretty shallow. But it feels like an assignment that is never completed and that always hangs over my head. You bloggers out there must know that nagging feeling of, "what am I going to say?" that never seems to go away. I, by nature, don't like open-ended projects, so why am I choosing one for recreation? I prefer things I can finish: a quilt, a home-improvement project, a picture, an eBay sale. It is great to have a "place" to put thoughts and silly "guess what?" kind of things, so I'm not going to shut it down. But I need to test what it feels like to just forget about it for a week or so. So... thanks for looking! Come back later!!

Weekly Reader Question - Toilet Paper

Since Justine didn't give me a due date on the meme, I'm going to treat it like a midterm paper that I'm supposed to write but would rather be watching TV. Plus, I should just let the dust settle from her run-in with the "still alive author" before stealing the limelight. So, moving on to the weekly reader question. Here's the set-up:

One topic that generated the most mail to legendary advice columnist Ann Landers was about which direction to hang the toilet paper. This even made it into her 2002 obituary,

"Her column had lighthearted moments, though. Few topics excited readers more than the question of which direction the toilet paper should be hung in."

So, gentle readers (that's another reference -- anyone care to take a guess?), which way is the right way? And which way does it usually end up in your family (you know, on a table or on the tank, or worse, in the other bathroom)?

And if you are really passionate about this topic (which, apparently people are!) then you can cast your vote for the all-American way to hang toilet paper here.

As for me, it is always with the end hanging down in the front. I curse the bathrooms where I have to hunt around under the roll to find the end.

It's Official: Double Dipping is Gross

My husband's family is very careful to avoid spreading germs. Nobody's hands are to touch any food that could possibly eventually be eaten by anyone else. There are always scoops in the chocolate-covered cranberry bag and spoons in the peanuts. And double-dipping is STRICTLY and LOUDLY prohibited at family gatherings.

Not coming from such an environment, you can imagine how I got jumped on 16 years ago when I protested the first time I was instructed about the dangers of double-dipping. My theory was, hey, I've never heard that rule, and the rest of my family is fine, and anyway, the dip covers the germs. Nonetheless, I immediately shut up and obeyed for the sake of family harmony, and I never double-dipped again, but only to be polite, not to prevent the theoretical spread of germs.

But now it's official, and I need to offer an olive branch for all the times I rolled my eyes when the spoon got ceremoniously put in the guacamole to the yells of "No double dipping!" As it turns out, double dipping really does spread germs, according to a recent study.

Justine sent me a "meme"!!

We just rolled in from an out-of-town gym meet (thanks for asking...Helena got her first score above 9 and a first place on beam!), the car upchucked all over the living room, and we're having people over for dinner tomorrow night. Sooo... thanks, for the "meme" (which was a completely unknown concept to me until now). I'll get to it, by exercising discipline and patience (see comments on previous post), later in the week. I also get to exercise humility when I answer it, because I'm not exactly a literary type (haven't you guessed?). Now, of course, if the "meme" had to do with home improvement, photography, movies, Theology, or TV from the seventies, I'd be all over it in a minute.

Pulled over, again

I spent the better part of this morning working on a heavy, deep and real blog post, something that I thought was SOOOO essential to get out there for everyone to read, only to find that I have to miss the all school Mass because I can't get ready on time, that I have to pack to go out of town for a gym meet, and that I still have a whole morning's worth of chores to do. To top it all off, my daughter Monica, who had a two-hour delay from school, gave me a tearful protest late this morning that I seem, more and more, to spend too much time on the computer (which is sadly and absolutely true). HELLO!!!!! My son is now under my legs (where he has been off and on all morning) and has begun an incessant babbling of requests for food, tv, toys, books (which is really just a plea for my attention), and I'm STILL saying "no" to him while I'm writing this. So, I'm cutting my losses, removing the post and moving on. Even now I'm tempted to keep writing about how reality is so imposing and, in turn, such a channel for grace, but that would just take up more and more time. Arrrggh! Somebody just pull the plug!