Mother's Day of Healing with Fr. Michael Shields

Local readers: do not miss this day, if at all possible.

Mini-Retreat at St Michael Parish
Saturday, September 13

9 a.m. - 2 p.m.
Lunch and childcare provided by AHG Troop AK1414
Palmer, Alaska

9-10 a.m.      Eucharistic Adoration and healing litanies, in the parish

10 a.m.          coffee break, downstairs

10:15 - 11:15 Talk by Father Michael

11:15-11:25   break

11:25 - 11:45 Question & Answer with Father
(written questions accepted anonymously during the morning, in-person questions welcome as well)

11:45-1 p.m. lunch and fellowship

1-2 p.m.         Sacrament of Reconciliation, upstairs, for those who desire

 

She makes me want better hair, among other things

...And I find it telling that my husband isn't impressed by these. Her loyalty, her verve, the elegance in private (by all accounts); in public, her dismissal of pretension and pride, refusing to be tempted by false humility --- I told him it's because he's just like her in those regards. When we learned of her recent death, we stood in the kitchen out of earshot from the kids and whispered our favorite jokes of hers from the '90s. Here's an '80s treasure.  (**update, Breitbart link)



Reading this gave context to her anger, which I sometimes found off-putting. I always loved her voice, literally and figuratively. Whatever else it might be, this is the kind of writer I aspire to be -- voice ringing so clearly. Can't you just hear her?

+++

Joan Rivers: Why Johnny Carson Never Ever Spoke to Me Again -- taken from The Hollywood Reporter

When I started out, a pretty girl did not go into comedy. If you saw a pretty girl walk into a nightclub, she was automatically a singer. Comedy was all white, older men. It was Jack Benny, Fred Allen, Bob Hope, Shelley Berman, Red Skelton ... even Amos and Andy were white men, which is hilarious if you think about it.

Phyllis Diller was happening right before me. But even Phyllis was a caricature, and I didn’t want to be a caricature. I was a college graduate; I wanted to get married.
I didn’t even want to be a comedian. Nobody wanted to be a comedian. Nowadays, everyone wants to be a comedian. You look at a Whitney Cummings, who is so beautiful -- she wanted to be a comedian! I wanted to be an actress. I was an office temp when one secretary said to me: “You’re very funny. You should go do stand-up, be a comedian. They make $6 a night some places.” And I said, “That’s more than I’m making as an office temp” -- I made eight, but I had to also pay for my Correcto-Type because I was a lousy speller -- so I thought, “Oh, I could do that and have days free to make the rounds.” And that’s why I became a comedian.

I had no idea what I was doing. The white men were doing “mother-in-law” and “my wife’s so fat …” jokes. It was all interchangeable. Bob Hope would walk into a town and say, “The traffic lights in this town are so slow that ...” and it could be any town. When I went onstage, that just didn’t feel right. So I just said, “Let me talk about my life.” It was at the moment when Woody Allen was saying, “Let me talk about my life,” and George Carlin was saying, “Maybe I'll talk about my life.” So I came in at the right moment.

My group was Woody and George and Richard Pryor and Bill Cosby. Rodney Dangerfield. Dick Cavett. All the ones who were coming up at the same time. But I never was one of the guys. I was never asked to go hang out; I never thought about it until later. They would all go to the Stage Delicatessen afterward and talk. I never got to go uptown and have a sandwich with them. So, even though I was with them, I wasn’t with them.

Everybody broke through ahead of me. I was the last one in the group to break through, or to be allowed to break through. Looking back, I think it was because I was a woman. Because in those days, they would come down to the Village and look at you for Johnny Carson. I was the very last one of the group they put on the Carson show.

I was brought up seven times to the Carson show -- interviewed and auditioned seven times by seven different people, and they rejected me, each time, over a period of three years. Then Bill Cosby was filling in, and the comedian that night bombed. Bill said to the booking producer, Shelly Schultz: “Joan Rivers couldn’t be any worse than this guy. Why don’t you use her?” And that’s when they put me on the show. But they didn’t bring me on as a stand-up comic. They brought me on as a funny girl writer. I’m the only stand-up that never did a stand-up routine on the Carson show.

Carson, give him credit, said on air in 1965, “You’re gonna be a star.” Right smack on the air.
I adored Johnny. In the ’70s, I did opening monologues, I was hosting. The turning point was when I left the show. Everybody left the show to go to do their own shows. Bill Cosby. David Brenner. George Carlin. Everybody. I stuck around for 18 years. And they finally offered me my own late-night show.

The first person I called was Johnny, and he hung up on me -- and never, ever spoke to me again. And then denied that I called him. I couldn’t figure it out. I would see him in a restaurant and go over and say hello. He wouldn’t talk to me.
I kept saying, “I don’t understand, why is he mad?” He was not angry at anybody else. I think he really felt because I was a woman that I just was his. That I wouldn’t leave him. I know this sounds very warped. But I don’t understand otherwise what was going on. For years, I thought that maybe he liked me better than the others. But I think it was a question of, “I found you, and you’re my property.” He didn’t like that as a woman, I went up against him.

And I was put up against him. In the press, he said, “She didn’t call me, and she was so terrible.” When you’ve told the truth and you read a lie, there’s nothing you can do about it. To this day, I’m very angry about that. Don’t f---in’ lie. You’re making, what, $300 million a year? What are you talking about? And I was going on Fox. Fox didn’t even have call letters at that point. Fox wasn’t Fox. Fox was six stupid little stations.

Looking back, and I never like to say it, the Carson breakup hurt me a lot, without realizing it. Even now, with our reality show Joan & Melissa: Joan Knows Best? or Fashion Police, when I say, “No, this is wrong,” people say: “See? She is a bitch. She is a c---.” If I were a man, they’d say: “So brilliant. He’s tough, but he’s right.” Nobody ever says to me, “You’re right.”
I have a friend. She was a producer at NBC and so brilliant. And they fired her because she was very abrasive. Lorne Michaels has a reputation of being a tough nut. But they all say, “That Lorne, he’s mean, but he’s brilliant.”

This woman, they said, “Oh, she’s too nasty.” But she pulled in the numbers.

It’s very tough in the business. My act consists of my gown that I carry and two spotlights and a microphone. I’ll do my sound check, and sometimes they’re not happy when I say, “The sound isn’t right,” or “Can we try other lights?” Because they’re men at the board. And lighting is very key for a woman, especially. I’ve been in the business almost 50 years -- I know my f---ing lighting. And there is always pushback from the lighting people. They just don’t want to hear it from a woman. They just don’t want to give you that cookie.

I don’t want to hear that male comics want someone to match wits with. No, they don’t. They want someone to sit there and gaze at them adoringly. That’s still what they want. The upside is, they don’t get to wear the pretty clothes. They don’t get to have the pretty dressing room. Women comedians get the private bathroom first.

During women’s lib, which was at its height in the ’70s, you had to say: “F--- the men. I could do better.” I think women did themselves a disservice because they wouldn’t talk about reality. Nobody wanted to say, “I had a lousy date” or “He left me.” But if that’s your life, that’s what they wanna hear. If you look around, very few women comics came out of the ’70s. It really started again in the ’90s, when they realized, it’s all right to say you wanna get married. It’s all right to say I wanna be pretty. That’s also part of your life. Thank God. Because now you know, we’ve got Whitney. I love Whitney. I think what she does is so smart. Sarah Silverman, oh my God. You just look at them and go: Good girls.

I love stand-up -- the connection with an audience is awesome. I just played Royal Albert Hall, which is 4,500 people, probably not a lot for some. But for me, it was amazing. The energy! From the beginning, and to this day, I would never tell a lie onstage. So now I walk out, I go, “I’m so happy to see you,” and I really truly am so happy to see them. The one thing I brought to this business is speaking the absolute truth. Say only what you really feel about the subject. And that’s too bad if they don’t like it. That’s what comedy is. It’s you telling the truth as you see it.

I think it was Cosby who also said to me, “If only 2 percent of the world thinks you’re funny, you’ll still fill stadiums for the rest of your life.”

My advice to women comedians is: First of all, don’t worry about the money. Love the process. You don’t know when it’s gonna happen. Louis C.K. started hitting in his 40s; he’d been doing it for 20 years. And don’t settle. I don’t want to ever hear, “It’s good enough.” Then it’s not good enough. Don’t ever underestimate your audience. They can tell when it isn’t true. Also: Ignore your competition. A Mafia guy in Vegas gave me this advice: “Run your own race, put on your blinders.” Don’t worry about how others are doing. Something better will come.

Ignore aging: Comedy is the one place it doesn’t matter. It matters in singing because the voice goes. It matters certainly in acting because you’re no longer the sexpot. But in comedy, if you can tell a joke, they will gather around your deathbed. If you’re funny, you’re funny. Isn’t that wonderful?
If there is a secret to being a comedian, it’s just loving what you do. It is my drug of choice. I don’t need real drugs. I don’t need liquor. It’s the joy that I get performing. That is my rush. I get it nowhere else.

What pleasure you feel when you’ve kept people happy for an hour and a half. They’ve forgotten their troubles. It’s great. There’s nothing like it in the world. When everybody’s laughing, it’s a party. And then you get a check at the end. That’s very nice.

+ + +

May God rest Joan's unrepeatable soul.

the mouthy and the merciful

Mrs. Obama and her daughters

By some mystery, my browser homepage was changed to MSNBC recently, so rather than learn how to fix it I've been indulging in their glossy spin. It's fun to read news from an entirely different source than I would normally.

This blog post came through my email today, and it's gorgeous and convicting as usual. Pope Francis recently used the term 'a bitter zeal' in a homily, which apparently belongs to the ancient St. James. God save me from having a pretentious faith, because aside from the obvious blindness and harm to my own soul, that's no way to attract anyone to the Gospel. My dad always told me essentially this when I got flustered about interpersonal stuff --- it takes all different kinds of people to make the world go 'round. My father-in-law once said something similar to a friend of ours who was a new recruit for the APD (he himself being a veteran of LAPD), "Just put your head down and do your part". I had never heard that phrasing and was puzzled ~ didn't he mean hold your head high and go be a big bad cop? All good advice from men who have weathered four or five decades of getting stuff done in groups of fallible humans.

Speaking of the police, I met a guy last night who has been camped out in his car at the local grocery store. He ran out of meth a few days ago. He said he just hunkered down in a damp sleeping bag and kept passing out whenever he tried to read the Bible. Nearing desperation, he chased down a pair of cops who had previously tried to wake him up in the Carrs parking lot. He ran after them on foot, claiming he had drugs and that they had forgotten to search him. The officers were incredulous, but one took him under his wing, helped him toss his pipe, drove him to a late-night 12-step meeting, and has even employed him with odd jobs for the past few days. No paperwork was filed or charges pressed. I hope he keeps coming back. Father Martin gives a rousing ode to the prayers of a scared addict --- "Don't ever discount the prayers you said when you were drunk. A hurting heart is closest to God than any other. Those were the best prayers you ever prayed." That policeman has done something grand, humane, and risky. Soli deo Gloria.


Hoda & the lil' Giff taking breathalyzers

I can't even believe Dwija is considering moving. I wonder if the people who buy her house will be weirded out that there's an entire blog dedicated to their house? Funny quirk of living in the Internet age, you never quite know when you step on documented ground. Real estate sales involve those tiresome disclosure forms, about lead paint, crimes or malfunctions on the property. Sellers even have to disclose paranormal activity like suspected hauntings. I imagine those concerns will soon grow to include potential privacy violations or previous media exposure.

And I don't care much for the First Lady's chosen dress at her chef's wedding, PS! (although I liked how she and her girls were coordinated.)

Reading MSNBC reminds me of one winter when Anthony and I found ourselves in the habit of watching the Today Show every morning as we stared slack-jawed over coffee mugs at the frigid yard outside. The show's cacophony was warm, sedating and a little hedonistic ("...is Kathi Lee drinking Tanqueray at 6 a.m.? well, this is fun.") My husband sighed, "it's the dead of February and I feel like I'm trapped in a dentist's office, with old issues of People magazine come to life. Part of me is humiliated, and part of me never wants this to end." :)

But, look ~ here! Life can be simple, even when pierced by great evil.

 

Capitalism, for the win

The last line is golden.

Is the Church a Clubhouse or a Lighthouse? by Msgr. Charles Pope

(copied from his blog here)
OK, so the title asks two focal questions plainly enough. Let’s begin with the first,  “Is the Church a clubhouse or a lighthouse?”

Many, it would seem, want the Church just to be a friendly place where people can gather. Many of these same people get angry when the Church shines the light of truth on something. They declare that the Church should just be open and inviting. They object when She is challenging and points to the demands of the Gospel.

But the Church has to be more than a clubhouse otherwise She is no different from a bowling league or the Moose Lodge. She is most certainly meant to be a lighthouse, a warning of danger giving light to those in darkness. But in doing so, She is also risking that some who are accustomed to the darkness will complain of the Light of Christ She reflects.

Here then is a focal question: clubhouse or lighthouse? Of course there does not need to be a radical dichotomy here. There are surely social aspects of the Church wherein She builds community. But mission needs to be first and it is our mission to be light that actually builds community since we are focused on one goal, not merely individual interests.

Another and even more provocative image is in the video from Ignitermedia.com, which asks if the Church is a cruise ship or a battleship.
 

Many, it would seem, surely think of the Church as more of a cruise ship: one that exists for my pleasure and entertainment. “Peel me a grape!” seems to be the attitude that some bring to Church.  The video does a good job of pointing out how many think of the Church as a cruise ship by listing the questions many ask of a luxury cruise liner.

1. Do I like the music they play in the ballroom?
2. Do I like the captain and his crew?
3. Is the service good?
4. Am I well fed?
5. Are my needs met promptly?
6. Is the cruise pleasant?
7. Am I comfortable?
8. Will I cruise with them again?

It is true that our parishes ought to work very hard to make sure the faithful are effectively served and helped to find God. Good sermons, excellent and obedient liturgy (including good music), a beautiful Church, and dedicated clergy and lay staff are all important. God deserves the very best and so do His people.

However, it also follows that the world does not exist merely to please me. No parish we attend will ever be exactly the way we want it. No priest preaches perfectly every Sunday. The choir does not always sing my favorites.

Some people stay away from Mass calling it “boring,” or saying they aren’t being fed. But in the end, it’s not about you! We go to Mass to worship God because God is worthy, because God deserves our praise, and because He has commanded us to be there. God has something important to say to us whether we want to hear it or not. He directs us to eat his flesh and drink his blood whether we like it or not. We must eat or we will die. Holy Mass is about God and what He is saying and doing.

The video goes on to suggest a better image for the Church—a battleship. I was less impressed with the questions given in the video comparing the Church and a battleship, so I’ve added my some of my own as well.

1. Is the ship on a clear and noble mission?
2. Is the ship able to endure storms at sea?
3. Does the captain submit to a higher authority?
4. Are the tactics and moves of the enemy well understood by bridge crew?
5. Does the bridge crew have proper training and experience?
6. Are the general crew members equipped to succeed?
7.  Is the general crew well trained in the available weaponry?
8. Does the general crew cooperate with the captain?
9. Are they taught to be disciplined and vigilant?
10. Are they rooted in (naval) tradition yet well aware of current circumstances?
11. Are they at their posts?
12. Do they take the battle seriously?
13. Does the ship have adequate first aid and medical help?
14. Is the crew properly fed?

Some dislike any military imagery in reference to the faith. But pugna spiritalis (spiritual battle) is a simple fact. We are besieged by the world, the flesh, and the devil. We are called to engage in the battle and, by God’s grace, to persevere through to victory.  Our weapons are the Word of God, the Teachings of the Church, the Sacraments, and prayer. We cannot win on our own; we must work together under the authority of the Church, which is Herself under God’s care and authority. We are rooted in the wisdom of tradition and, guided by the Pope and Bishops, we are to apply that wisdom and our training to these current times. Peter’s Barque has endured many storms yet has never sunk. She is a sure, steady ship on a clear and noble mission.

Lub is patient

I see that Fr. Barron has a new series in production! His life is such gift to the Church.

More Greetings to my Dad

 * a great mix of nostalgia, cheer and love * (and then there's Brian...)

Whoo-hoo !  Birthday Brother!  It’s your FAVORITE Sister…. Wishing you the BEST of Birthdays…. and so wishing I could come thru the door and give you the BIGGEST  HUG of all!  One day that WILL happen, and sad to say that’s not happening for this birthday… TODAY.   So, Put your feet up, stay by the pool, have your favorite “Kiwi Gillian” bring you a cold drink.  Oh-h and swipe out her tinker BELL for just this ONE DAY, and ring it every time your ice starts to melt.

I do MISS you both….. and all the cheery smiles and good times you both bring on, no matter where you are !

Love YOU !! 

Rocky 

 

Happy Birthday, Bob! Remember when I accidentally called you "Dad" that one time? That was not as embarrassing as the time I accidentally called Dick Longworth "Mom." I hope life is good in Mexico!! Thinking of you fondly.... Lil 

"Mr Bob Rogers, with a joyful deep laugh and inquisitive eye, was always there for me. Whether it was helping me put together a last minute robot costume, or a cleaning job when I was looking for work after my accident.  My early memories are of birthday parties above Tongass storage, Tiffany's bathtub math inquiries, and in our teens countless dog finding missions.  You'll be glad to know we only borrowed the cargo van once with me at the helm.

I will always treasure your vinyl collection, magically mixed into my parents records that have the wear and love of good memories and still great sound.  So, rock on with those Crazy Swedish Meatballs as Stan Borgnine would sing, and three cheers from this tres blonde, the one and only Amburgular"

Well he once referred to me as "The Dude" (which I really wish would have stuck as a nickname) but truth be told, Bob is way more Dude than I, epitomized by his rebel shrug, and his embrace of the idea that life is shot and complicated and nobody knows what to do about it, so we don't do anything about it. We just take er easy, man.

Bob was always pretty damn good at taking her easy. From driving his Honda Rebel (again aptly named) to bravely lighting up in airports (Only to act like a foreigner who "didn't know" they couldn't smoke there). Well done, sir.

Now, I have to go and NOT take er easy and work.

Happy birthday, old man.

Brian F. Johnson

It's like Tori Amos came to a different conclusion...

Audrey Assad (who's fairly new to me, but a welcome surprise!)

So, while I have a moment to write ~ this past week has been amazing in weather & busy-ness, and I've tried to keep a stable if random pattern of posting. I no longer find blogging cathartic, but am committed to a few other projects and like breaking the pace a little. Even just snippets are fun ... thanks for continuing to read. I've read a half dozen or so 'new' bloggers, and that's been enjoyable.

It's tricky for me to look around and believe that the shift of seasons will bring a lighter schedule, although Spring tends to do just that. Many tender spots lately have reinforced God's omnipotence, and our family looks toward Lent with immense gratitude. I stand by the first piece of poetry I ever taught a child to recite. That would be teensy Viva, teetering up the cathedral steps to the newly ordained priests with, "TOWANTISTOSUFFER//ITSATENETOFBUDDHISM". I think she also drew me a picture of Boo Dzim, like she figured it was a guy.  : )

I shall not want.

VOX

Look at our school's high school newspaper!

A Childhood Idyll, Wm. Bouguereau

And along that vein, there are a few things I can't restrain my hysterical sentimentalism about. The best of which is the Class of 1996 ~ feeling thankful that our kids have their own crew scattered around Anchorage and the Valley, growing together in a similarly poignant way.

* GK said it best, just today *

Handy Anchorage Radio Guide

Begin the day with a friendly voice
A companion, unobtrusive
Plays the song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood

 

Off on your way, hit the open road
There is magic at your fingers
For the spirit ever lingers
Undemanding contact in your happy solitude

 

Invisible airwaves crackle with life
Bright antennae bristle with the energy
Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free

KLEF 98.1 FM
Best time to listen: anytime -- Don't forget Sacred Concert Sunday mornings from 6 to 9 and Classics for Kids story hour on Sunday nights
Best place to listen: anywhere

KSKA 91.1 FM
Highlights: Alaska news and NPR features
Best time to listen: early mornings, weekend mornings
Best place to listen: alarm clock
Guilty pleasure: Encounters

KNBA 90.3 FM
Highlight: beautiful music
Best time to listen: evenings
Best place to listen: your kitchen ~ flamenco and fado for all!

KFQD 750 AM
Best time to listen: midday Dennis Miller
Best place to listen: while commuting or cooking alone
Guilty pleasure: Dave Stieren

89.9 KATB
Perks: Christian vibe
Best time to listen: mid-afternoon
Best place to listen: from the car

I think I have a contender for sacrifice over Lent. : )

--- (lyrics from RUSH, The Spirit of Radio)

Why Can't We Have Nice Things: Cardinal Virtues: Temperance

It surprised me to learn that studiousness is ordered to Temperance --- doesn't it seem more naturally aligned with Fortitude? If you have an interest, work with this in the background --- you won't regret it --- even better if you have time for the visual zen that is Ven. Fulton Sheen.

Watching this is like being with my grandparents. And I realize how much his thoughtful and comparably slower (than like Twitter, or Conan O'Brien or whatever) speaking style makes me itch. Which is enough proof for me of his argument here.

Okay, I have many babies to chase and snuggle. They get faster and bigger every day. Turn around and they're four years old, in high heels, opining about their daily schedule and favorite animals. I love raising little girls. *But boys are effortless, I must say! In my vast two years of experience there. : )


Conversion Diary is hosting Seven Posts in Seven Days.

Ten Things I've Learned in the Past Month

10. Where I used to cluck sadly at bedraggled parents with their toddler on a leash, I now ponder the legitimate use of a (very small) Taser for getting mine in formation. Or at least into their carseats.

9. If you casually mock Axe body spray over the years, you will accidentally buy scented oils labeled Lavender & SomethingSomething, but they'll just smell like Axe body spray.

8. The most polished etiquette cannot replace manners. When you meet darkness in its most civilized forms, run. When warmth and light come in the distressing disguise of the poor or suffering, embrace. This takes practice.

7. I can no longer tolerate Kandinsky.

6. Conjunto is REAL.

5. Packing sack lunches and dispatching children for activities means the dishwasher can take three days (!) to fill up, which feels like being on vacation.

4. There is some redeemable value in Christian rock music. That might be the most embarrassing sentence I've ever written.

3. Polish people and Minnesotans have a lot in common -- the good stuff.

2. GoPro videos taken by children are funny. But they do seem like pointless "home movies" --- since the child is nowhere to be seen. Tree climbing is predictable and needs no narration. And I don't know why ice fishing needs to be re-enacted at all. Give me a stranger's clichéd travel slideshow any day.

1. Typing resumes for friends is gratifying, for selfish and unselfish reasons. I love to type and hear life stories, linger over design (all the best fonts are named for composers, have you noticed that?) and see the final product bring happiness to the person it describes.

PS This week's doddery (mine) brought to you by Her Excellence Jen, at Conversion Diary.

Seven Somethings

1. Since I'm participating in this link-up, I'm giving homage to Jen Fulwiler and doing it 7 Quick Takes Style. Which is mixing memes, or something.

2. Genealogy is my favorite winter sport, and lately I've given some time to researching specific family events for my husband's grandparents who emigrated as teenagers from Portugal in 1920. They were of the same island in the Azores but first met in California -- what a story. It's always neat for our daughters to look at photos of their great grandmother and ponder shipping off in just a few years. For all of my bravado at 15 years old (I knew everything! It was great), I can't imagine that kind of stoicism. She was beautiful and I wear her ring.

3. Sometimes I think I'm the recipient of the most numerous individual kindnesses from relative strangers. People are cool.

4. We have a border crossing in our future, and have decided to go freestyle without passports for most of our kids. This is on the authority of some of the above-mentioned random strangers. They had Russian accents, so it must be legit.

5. This is the question driving me today: How does my treatment of my vocation look to my children? Am I giving them a positive perception of being a wife & mother?

6. This is the story currently on repeat anytime we need unfocused downtime. The author even has a Tedx Talk; her physical appearance reminds me of a friend of mine, to a startling degree. Also a writer. More of a poet. Anyway, her stories make us laugh out loud and she seems to capture childhood voraciously.

7. Um ... so yah.

Gingerbread Recipe calling for (c)old coffee

Even before I cared much about cooking (y'know, like ten minutes ago), I've long appreciated people who can ramble tidily in narrative form about recipes. It makes it all seem very do-able for those of us who prefer to eat like 7th grade boys at a SuperBowl party. I like Greek salads & Mexican food. That's it. why mess with success? Children eat yogurt and steak with guacamole quite happily... Okay, but in real life I must feed this growing brood, do it frugally if it's going to be any fun, and get a general game face going about long-term meal planning.

Anyway. Internet, anyway.

Eagle River, Alaska

So encouraging, so joyful, just Ask Auntie Leila. As I say, she's FlyLady without the hysterics. : ) Speaking of Like Mother, Like Daughter --- I had a Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real sequence in my mind as we drove to a picturesque spot yesterday, and on arrival it was just as I'd hope it'd look: hues of gold, frigid blue set against pink mountains... then I realized I'd left my camera at home. Next time! I have to go for now. The neighbor's dog is here to visit. Joys of Alaskan winter.

And if you prefer the erudite gent

(making much the same case as Savage, here you go)

As Simcha says, on a totally different topic ---  "Our main job isn’t to apply “censor” bar across everything that doesn’t come straight from the Baltimore Catechism.  We take what is good. We’re supposed to be experts at identifying what is good.  We’re not supposed to be screaming meemies who bite our lips and blush every time someone dips into a minor key.  We’re supposed to use sifters, not dump trucks, when sorting through culture."

Parisians Enjoy Simple Majesty of Tridentine Mass

A musical soul named Gavin shared this awhile ago, and it's become my go-to office cleaning companion. Apologies if I've posted it tons and forgotten. I just can't find the words so I won't bother trying. The heights and the depths of Love, the mass. I hope you'll treat yourself.

Vote for me!

huh? I barely understand what's going on, but the most reliable thing about me is probably that my mouth continues running, regardless of this ignorance! Howz that for a slogan. Gitchasomevotes, m' hm.

Seriously, I'm flattered to be included and am eager to follow along. My yammering was nominated in the Smartest Blog category. Words are all I've ever really had, so sharing them means a lot to me. I deeply admire the rowdy pilgrims whose names I recognize in many categories of Bonnie's roundup --- this should be a good time for all. Her story is unforgettable.

Speaking of Sling Blade, has anyone seen the new BB Thornton movie? I can't remember what it's called. We've revived the Blockbuster tradition at our house lately and it's been fun.

Okay, double seriously -- go over there and vote for all the blogs! if the Spirit moves you. Thanks.

** edit: Okay, "Words are all I've ever really had" is a bit melodramatic. I don't mean like I was raised in a Honduran landfill or something ~ just that I can barely swim, have only marginally luscious hair, and enjoy talking and writing with people very much. It clarifies a world that sometimes overwhelms me with its demands and mysteries.

2013, the year i turned old

Cool video found on Alaska Dispatch, with the following description: From the mundane to the epic, filmmaker Josh Ramharter condensed 2013 into a 365-second video diary, one second for each day of the year. Ramharter, who was born and raised in Alaska, has an unending affinity for the outdoors. His preferred method of exploring the vast Alaska landscapes is by bike during the summer and splitboard during the winter. Oftentimes you will find him slinging around a camera searching for that next epic shot.

2013, The Year I Turned Old. from jram on Vimeo.

Podcast Rhymes with Broadcast

This guy always gives a provocative argument ~ with the exception of keeping in touch with beloved and faraway friends and family, John Zmirak is probably my most valuable takeaway from wasting time on Facebook over the years.

And this site is a neat peek into how personal tech evangelization can become. SQPN stands for StarQuest Production Network. Cute? His podcast is among the oldest of podcasts, as he tells it, since the genesis was in 2005 upon the death of Blessed John Paul II. Check out 'The Break' for commentary on one of my favorite topics on Earth, Sesame Street and its international versions. The right sidebar has a bunch of other podcasts too. Be aware that the host blathers pretty genially & aimlessly for the first thirty minutes of the link, so it's worth skipping ahead. Otherwise, 5 Stars on that site overall. Its clean, artistic appearance seems very now.

Father Roderick's reflections about the creativity of the Holy Spirit are particularly cool.

Overflowing Brain

Someday I'll re-organize my blog to include a category of overflowing, weekly links posts ~ until then, I appreciate tolerance of the occasional freakout post (necessary since I gave up Facebook, which was my refuge for these cathartic e-moments. Cathartic moments along Muldoon Road at 6 a.m. go in a different category...)

So I read the Acton Institute newsletter and like the tension between the nitty gritty and the ethereal. For example, this video. Father Sirico reports that he handed a copy of the Poverty Cure curriculum to our Holy Father in Rome just this month.