Random Five

1. This guy who reminds me of a four-year-old human kid. In and out, in and out the door. Snuggle with me; don't snuggle with me. Feed me; never mind, I don't want to eat; gets filthy then comes in and gets his feet all over the couch; whines when he doesn't get his way; only listens to what he wants to hear... But too cute to give away to the next passing caravan of Gypsies. Dawsey Marie. Chilling out on my knee even as I type.

2. This healthful recipe for pumpkin bread. 

Yum! Thank you Allison and Ryan for the Eikorn Flour!

3.  My new favorite prayer. Written out to put in my missal.

4. Written out, I say, because I actually did write this prayer out in cursive in the little tiny book I keep in my missal. The physical act of writing is a cathartic things for me -- like ironing -- (don't judge now; we all have our quirks...). Call me crazy, but I like looping and circling and laying all my letters neatly on a line. (Ahh... Satisfaction!) It's the weirdest thing to me that the disciplines have flipped. When I was growing up, everyone learned how to print legibly and write in cursive, but we were only just encouraged to learn to type -- as rather an extra thing that we might appreciate knowing at some point in our life. Nowadays, though, pretty much everyone knows how to use a keyboard (even if it's just henpecking or using a thumb on an i-phone), and learning to write with a pen or pencil is more an elective skill, certainly not stressed in conventional schooling situations. 

In recent years, I'd begun to have some hope that this writing/typing thing would flip back. You remember, back in the olden days when people discussed things other than viruses and vaccines and politics? There had been some general acknowledgement of the loss of hand-writing, in general, and cursive, in particular -- and a small push had begun to revitalize its use in some enlightened quarters. I understand that there are, arguably, bigger fish to fry right now -- with the threat of CRT and the realization of many parents that their children have learned to be card-carrying communists, but don't know how to read... 

But, this discipline of cursive writing may be more important than we've thought. Moms and Dads who educate your own children or who have influence in your parochial schools, you might want to consider the importance of stressing the tactile skill of cursive writing again -- for all its many goods -- but maybe most of all, for its importance in your children's mental development! Read about this fact here, here, and here. Pop over here if you'd like some free printable worksheets for the kids to practice with, or you can go here or here to order Catholic workbooks for penmanship mastery. 

The natural next topic for #5, would be the importance of learning to string words together in sensible sentences and paragraphs -- and all the wonderful things those can become -- and how important this also is for mental development and just getting on in life -- but, this being a random five, and my having a hundred and one things to do before Dan and I head out for a week in the Wisconsin wilderness, I'm going to avoid looking up any more links, and leave off here, with all my best regards to all who pass by! Please pray for the reign of Mary's Immaculate Heart throughout the world, remember our priests and seminarians daily! I'll be back next week!

 

On Being 29

These ruminations inspired by a
 recent birthday.You guessed it.😉

It's a funny thing, growing older. Make no mistake, I'm up for any excuse to throw a party, but birthdays, as an excuse, lose their novelty about the time it's literally impossible to fit all the candles on the cake. There are practical considerations one just cannot ignore. Case in point: we kids thought we were pretty clever the year my Dad turned fifty, when we turned out our pockets to buy fifty birthday candles for his cake and lit them all -- thus setting off the smoke alarm in the kitchen. We laaaaughed -- but my Dad just looked rather grim as he waved the smoke toward an open window with a newspaper. Not that he wailed and moaned at the passing years -- at least not out loud. He accepted the burden of age on his shoulders like he accepted all burdens: stoically -- while quietly trying to keep clear of the smoke, and we were none the wiser. Yet.

Men, for the most part, seem to take age in a manly fashion, brushing the numbers off as if they don't matter -- even when they start to feel arthritic, can't eat past 5 p.m,. and 10:00 is the new midnight.  (No, am I thinking of you, Dan? 😅) You know the guys feel it all, of course, but it's their duty to remain unruffled. We women, though, feel no such compunction: we ruffle. It's a common joke that none of us girls ever ages past 29 years. As if being thirty is the threshold of old age! Good gracious, youngsters. I guess 30 sounds old to a teenager, but I was still a mere babe at 30! I didn't know it then, but I know it now; take my word on it. In reality, the body only really starts to go south at about 40 -- and the brain at about 50. We have to work five times as hard to just stay neutral and out of

clinics past those ages, but we're not meeting the Grim Reaper for coffee and doughnuts. Not necessarily. There's still lots of life left to live, planes to catch, balls to drop, lessons to learn. If we've made it past our first thirty irresponsible and careless years without killing ourselves, however, we can't help but notice Mortality lurking somewhere behind us. Threateningly. We've earned the awareness. And it hits hard about once a year or so, when we can't help but notice how nobody even thinks about putting candles on our birthday cakes.

But it's a good thing. Like how frostbite is a warning to get in from the cold. It's a gift from God, and that is no joke. These creaky joints and gray hairs are Him saying: Don't get too comfortable on this earthly plane; you are not made for this world, sweetheart.  A sobering thing to remember -- if we remember. And if we hear His loving but exasperated endearment at the end there. I was still really very stupid at 29 years of age, and I'm not sure I'm less stupid now; God knows I need these constant reminders that opportunities to learn and grow and fix myself are not like my Verizon plan, unlimited. I'm 57 and only just really understanding this. Not just at a superficial academic level, but, literally, down deep in my achy bones. We really cannot and should not stay 29 years old -- any more than the walnut tree in our backyard would be better if it stayed a sapling. 

The stinkin' walnut tree, God love it.

God help me end up as fruitful as that stinkin' walnut tree! Over a hundred years old and a force to be reckoned with. But, here's the pancake (as Sr. E says): we have a couple twenty-something kids on the property now to clean up all the walnuts and saplings, bless them, while we supervise and nod knowingly: an ounce of prevention, kids... Get after it now, or you'll regret it later! And in twenty years, they might tell their children the same thing. And so on. And so on. As the twig is bent, so inclines the tree. We are now watching our own forest growing -- something we couldn't see yet when we were 29. And it is a good thing. Well worth being 57 years old to get a glimpse.

Simple Woman Monday, September 13th

 For Today

Looking out my window... it's overcast and cooler today! (Yay!) And this: Saturday afternoon, Michelle and Cathy and Dominic and Monica and all the grandkids there-with came over to help Mommom and Dandad put out all the traditional autumn decorations. 🍁And so this is now outside our window...

Venerable old "Jack the Haystack" -- who is older (at least his
head is, anyway...) than Dominic -- coerced by Dominic out of
his bin in the barn to take up this post, guarding the tomatoes.

I am thinking... I have a LOT to do in the next week -- prepping for two trips within the next month -- and why am I sitting here like a Monday morning slug, not doing any of the things I should be doing?

I am thankful... That, in this phase of my life, I CAN sit here like a Monday morning slug if I want to. 😊 (And then scurry like crazy to make up for it later, with nobody to blame but myself...)

I am creating...  Finishing up the book study for the children's book, Snow Treasure, before the snow flies! After this week, I may not have another chance until after Christmas! So that's going to keep me busy these next few days. Also I got half of the thermal curtains for the RV hemmed and in place last week (which sums up the grand total of my sewing portfolio: I can sew in a straight line! Pretty much. ) But, I may or may not get to finishing the last four panels any time soon, because the fact that they are too long is hidden by the couch that they are hanging behind. Out of sight, out of mind, on the bottom of the to-do list... 😬

I am wearing... my most comfortable old dress, one I wore when I was pregnant with Michelle -- that's how old it is! Shelly is 26! 😳 So, I can choose between thinking "some things never go out of style" and "I don't care." Or both. 😏 It's a short-sleeved, collared, high-wasted, button down, with light blue denim bodice and a navy blue, flowered, a-line skirt. Loose and cool and easy to move around in -- and hides the fact that I ate too much ice cream and pie on my birthday.

I am reading... nothing of note right now, but I have the biography of Pope Leo XIII in my queue at Abebooks that I'm hoping to purchase soon to read on the plane on the way to Germany in October -- because that's where I'm finally booked to go -- to see Kevin and Ina and meet our granddaughter, Sophia for the first time! 

Also, Dan booked a week for us in the Wisconsin woods next week as a birthday gift, so that's a relaxing vacay to look forward to before the less relaxing one! I'll probably bring something light to read in the cabin -- maybe a Georgette Heyer. 💗

I am hoping... that nothing in this kookoo world fouls up the plan to fly overseas! These days, you just never know...

One more picture thought for the day...

What I got for my birthday Saturday. There was other stuff, but these were my favorite! Six of our eleven (L-R): Claudia, Daria, and Ella (Michelle's); on my lap: Dom and Monica's Claudia and Cathy and Louis's Chloe; and in front, Dom and Monica's Margaret. Love these beauties!
They are among the many blessings I count every single day!

Five Minute Friday: Bat Signals

 

Five Minute Friday

Word Prompt for September 10th: "Rescue"

Begin:10:50 am

Few people get through a 30+ year career of parenting without collecting a few (dozen) rescue stories. 

The ones that come to mind first, of course, are the big rescues, the ones that live in family lore -- and grow sometimes to size and scope beyond anyone's reckoning when they first happened. The first one that comes to my mind (because I was actually there -- though I didn't do the rescuing) is the time Dominic, then about sixteen or seventeen years old, separated from me during a hike up St. Mary's Glacier in the mountains of Colorado.

The trail was a bit steep for me, but Dom wanted to get to the top of a ridge to see the view. He'd pointed out the trail he would take and told me he'd loop around and meet me back at the conjunction of that trail and the trail I was on. OK. No problem. Until he didn't come. And he didn't come. And my Mom-spidey-sense kicked in. I knew something was wrong. An internal bat signal? I don't know. Can't even tell you how I knew something was amiss, but my heart was beating a thousand miles a minute and my adrenals were pumping with nowhere to go. If I followed him up the steep part of the trail, I might miss him if he were already heading back down to me on the downslope trail, but if I headed back the downslope trail, I was leaving the area that had the most danger -- where the ice floe was at the top of the steep trail... where I was afraid maybe he'd fallen.

 So, what to do? What to do? This is what I did: I headed part way back the trail, sat on a rock and prayed like crazy to his Guardian Angel and his name patron, the indomitable St. Dominic. After five or ten minutes, my heartbeat calmed -- and, of course, I'd been calling periodically: Dominic! Dominic! If you don't answer me right now...! And finally -- he answered me. Seems he'd literally slid down a glacier. That "ice floe" was not just any tiny little bit of ice, though it looked it from the bottom of the trail. It was big! And he slid all the way down it before regaining his "footing" so to speak, and finding his way back to the trail junction -- which was a longer hike than either of us realized.  (Yikes!)

The original post is here. But you can see the path, 
traced over to be more visible. That rock outcropping
looks small, but was actually the size of a school bus!

But here's the thing. Using my Nikon zoom lens, we took a picture of the glacier and could see his track in the snow -- which slid for a dozen feet or so -- then just stopped at a huge rock outcropping -- and continued on the downhill side of the outcropping. Dominic was blabbergasted when he saw the photo. He did not walk over any outcroppings. Plain and simple. He didn't crawl or roll over any. He doesn't remember going over them at all -- and has no idea, to this day, how he wasn't mangled on the rocks coming down that glacier. But all he ended up with were some scratches on his legs -- and a renewed devotion to his Guardian Angel. We both know who rescued him that day! Bat signal sent and received before either of us even knew what was going on!

There are plenty of other Big Rescue stories in our family of ten children! Dominic saved Cathy's life one time -- whisking her out of the way of an out of control truck careening off an icy road -- at the very last second! (Kevin was driving the truck! Ack!) I was a proud Momma one time, watching as our son, Paul, stopped on a rather dangerous curve on the Million Dollar Highway above Ouray to roll a boulder off the road to keep an accident from occurring. And I know there are other stories -- too many! I could write a book!

But, honestly -- the best rescues are the little ones, the ones that make life go on a daily basis, you know? Quarter-sized bat signals that add up to so much more because they mean someone is paying attention to the little things that mean the whole world.

One child leaning over the shoulder of another to help with a math problem during our many years of homeschooling. A neighbor who comes to clear our driveway after snowstorms. Our miraculous mailman who can figure out a letter that needs to get to our house, even though it doesn't have even close to the right address on it. A cup of pumpkin spice latte carried across the house with minimum spillage to cheer up a Mom suffering fall allergies. A shoulder rub when it's just really needed.  My daughter-in-law changing over my laundry to the dryer before it mildews. Our grown daughter, Michelle, an accomplished homeopath-in-training who told her Momma just the right thing to take to kick strep this week... (Bless you, Shelly! I'm on the mend!) That is our job on this earth, really, isn't it? Finding ways to come to people's rescue? I think it really is what makes grace and uses grace and makes the world go 'round in spite of all news to the contrary. We make this a wonderful world, ourselves, in our own little corners. No big acts required -- just a thousand and one small rescues can save the planet. We're all super-heroes.

Oop!! 😬Went over! But, ya know.... Got on a roll. Only about 7 minutes over... (Am I disqualified? 😉)

To enjoy lots of other efforts to stay inside the five minute limit, run over to this week's Five Minute Friday!

Thankful Thursday

 

Five Minute Friday

From Five Minute Fridays Community: Run over and read what everyone comes up with - or join in!

Five minutes. Here goes: 8:55 a.m.

Word Prompt: City

I don't hate the city.

No, really, I don't. I have the happiest memories of city excursions: trips to Coors Field when I was a young adult and was exploring downtown Denver for the first time. Actually, it was not Coors Field now that I think about it -- but the Bronco Stadium where the very first Denver baseball was played -- before the Rockies. The Bears. Remember them, anyone? That dates me, doesn't it? 

I locked my keys in the car one time in downtown Denver after a game -- after dark -- on a sketchy

corner. I didn't want to call my Dad, because I'd already gotten the worst kind of reputation for locking my keys in my car and doing other generally ditzy things. So, what did I do? I stood there for a minute, feeling -- and probably looking -- helpless and pitiful. I was alone because my college friends had parked elsewhere and had already left for home -- and this was before cell phones. (Yeah. Dinosaur era. I shoulda just whistled for a pterodactyl) This is a scenario that actually does strike terror into the heart of a mother of four daughters; I know this now that I'm a Mom! And I'm actually still glad my parents didn't know about this until years later. I was so naïve and totally unafraid. And miffed. But, no fears. No terror of the dark city. (Stupid kid that I was) 

Maybe because my Guardian Angel was on the ball, though -- I don't know -- but help of an unexpected kind was on the way; before too long, two guys showed up out of nowhere. They looked like gangsters. Seriously. One was a tall, very big black guy with multiple piercings, the other a small dirty, homeless looking white guy -- but, don't judge. I didn't. I was desperate (which would have worked nicely into last week's prompt!). Anyway, they came over and asked if I needed any help. They saw that I'd locked my keys in my car. And, sure in my own positive young and naïve way, that the heart of the big city still beat and kindness still lived, I fearlessly told them about my plight -- figuring that, if anyone could break into my car, these two could! 

But they couldn't! Ha! Go figure! So, they're like: Do you have AAA? And I was like, "Well, duh." And they escorted me to a phone booth and stood nearby like bodyguards while I called -- and waited for the AAA truck to come -- then waved goodbye and told me to be more careful in the future; they couldn't guarantee they'd be there next time to watch over me. No. Really.They actually said that. This is a true story.

So, yeah. The city does rather scare me now. I've grown knowledgeable and jaded, I guess -- and wary. I feel safer in my country home -- where I can grow corn and pumpkins if I want to -- and know my neighbors. But -- Guardian Angels are everywhere. Even -- maybe especially -- in the city. It's good to remember. A little excitement is a good thing. But, seriously girls. If you lock your keys in your car, I swear I won't say a thing or give you a hard time (How Could I?): just CALL me! Those two Gangster Angels might or might not be hanging around wherever you are -- and there's no sense taking chances!

STOP: 9:00 a.m.

NB: If my sister, Nina, reads this. You remember? This was after that time Dad had to come rescue me --  (weren't you with me that time?) which was the reason I didn't want to call him... And seeing as this all followed my having locked my keys in the (still running) car after my first driving test, my credit was pretty darn bad. And you know that irritated face Dad used to make. That barely suppressed instinct to spank my twenty-year-old butt... One would avoid that at all cost!  You'll be glad to know that I have not locked my keys in the car in over twenty years! But if Dad were here, he'd probably still make a comment any time I left his presence, reminding me to not lock my keys in my car... (That still-lingering anticipating-mad-Dad shiver is probably why I don't.)

Thesaurus Thursday

 

Welcome September!

For those who to want save money and avoid expensive coffee shops. This is not only cheaper, but we think it tastes much better!

Pumpkin Spice Latte

(For two!)

Ingredients:

1 level tablespoon pumpkin puree  

1 cup milk (whole if you dare, or coconut milk!)  

1/2 tablespoon light brown sugar (packed and leveled)  *or coconut sugar *or honey or pure maple syrup to taste

1/4 tsp cinnamon  

1/8 tsp nutmeg (+ a pinch for dusting later)  

1/8 tsp ground cloves  

1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract  

2 cups strong coffee (You can also use a shot or two of espresso instead of coffee.)  

4 tablespoons of your favorite creamer (or, better yet, heavy whipping cream!)  

4 to 8 teaspoons of granulated sugar (or commensurate sweetener, as above)  

Whipped cream

Directions:

Begin brewing coffee. 

 

In a blender puree the milk, pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, brown sugar and vanilla. Pour into a small saucepan and cook over low heat until the milk is warm and begins to froth slightly. (About 4-5 minutes.) Remove from heat.

For each serving: Pour 1/2 cup of the pumpkin mixture into your coffee mug. Add 2 generous tablespoons of creamer. Heat in the microwave or on stovetop till hot but not volcanic, then add 1 cup of brewed coffee. Add 2 to 4 teaspoons of sugar or sweetener of your choice (depending on how sweet you like your drink; I add about 3 tsps.) Top off with a touch more ‘pumpkin milk’ if needed to fill cup, then top with whipped cream and sprinkle with just a dash of nutmeg.

Serve immediately. Enjoy! It's autumn for such a short time -- get a jump on it and enjoy it as long as possible!