The Bun, #3, comes home from First Holy Communion, sits on the couch, and unwraps her gift from the parish. “I know what it is,” she says even before the paper is off. It’s a small box, about the size of one of those little hardback children’s missals or mini-Bibles, but she knows better.
#4 leans close to watch.
After some struggle with the tape, our first communicant pulls out a metal-work cross, charming and elegant even seen through the bubble wrap.
Her little sister gasps. “Bubble wrap!”
And is smartly corrected: “That’s my bubble wrap.”
But as I write, no one is playing with the bubble wrap, carefully set aside for just the right occasion. Instead they’re doing music-theater with the florist’s water tubes salvaged from the bottom of the carnation stems.
Nine out of ten bunnies surveyed agree: You should look at the other quick takes.
1.
I know the SuperHusband loves me, because he built BunnyLand. (As if the bookshelves hadn’t clinched it.)
#3, suitably nicknamed “The Bun” since before ever we met her, wanted bunnies. #1 has a dog, and #2 her cat, and #3 longed for bunnies. Sweet, soft, fuzzy little bunnies.
As an Easter surprise we worked out a timeshare arrangement with our bunny-owning friends: We could have guardianship of Bun-Bun and Jennie-Bun as long as we liked, and still be confident of bunny-sitting and bunny-sabbaticals as needed. The perfect solution, especially after we calculated that there was more venison in the freezer than we could eat in a year, so acquiring a breeding pair of bunnies was not strictly neccessary.
2.
And though #3 does all the daily bunny-feeding and watering, we discovered the two most ardent bunny-lovers (I am loathe to admit this) are the two most curmudgeonly, un-cuddly residents of the castle — Mr. Boy and I.
The porch was fine for temporary lodgings, but for a longterm stay, the bunnies needed room to roam and a place to relieve themselves at will. After several false starts, we prevailed upon the SuperHusband to create BunnyLand, a sheltered, predator-resistant enclave under the apple tree. It’s big and leafy, and the bunnies have space to hop around in giant zig-zags, and hide under the virginia creeper, and loll in the dirt pile left from setting a post for the bunny-gate.
In the morning I can sit out in the garden with a cup of coffee and a missal, and watch bunnies until I remember to pray, and then watch more after. And usually in-between. Somewhere about the psalm I end up taking a bunny-watching break. Maybe not the best thing for my prayer life, I admit.
3.
Last Friday evening we were sitting out in the garden watching the bunnies, and Mr. Boy hopped the fence. He desperately, desperately wants to pet the bunnies, and sometimes they let him. Other times, no. “You need to sit quietly and peacefully, and let the bunnies come to you,” I told him.
So he held up his hands, two fingers in the air: Peace signs.
4.
I can’t remember the exact sequence, but this being the four of us, late in the evening . . . soon two children and I were making some comment about the sixty-something ladies at Mass who finish their handshakes during the Sign of Peace, and for good measure bless the remainder of the parish with peace-signed hands.
SuperHusband had failed to ever notice this practice, mark of the Business-Casual Parish. We filled him in on what he’d been missing in his devoted attention to the Agnus Dei*. And then chuckled.
5.
But you know what? I know it’s popular among a certain kind of neo-Cath blogger to mock the aging hippies with their groovy worship habits, and I’m here to tell you this: Lay Off.
Have you ever spent a day with these ladies?
Do you not know that they held your parish together when all the rest of our culture was trying every possible social experiment in the name of freedom unbridled license? Do you not know that they who wield the folk guitar and bless children shamelessly during Holy Communion, they are the ones feeding the poor at St. Vincent de Paul, and making meals for the funeral supper, while you sit at home reading imprimatured titles from Ignatius Press?
Do you not know how much they love your children? The hours they spend — the decades they have spent — teaching religious ed, with no more support than a love of Jesus and a desire to share that love with whomever He sends them?
Do you not understand that whatever their shortcomings, they have prayed into this Church — at the cost of night after night, year after year, of tears for a wayward generation they did not know how to teach, but tried their best anyway — you and I? Who now sit at our computers, bickering and griping over what this law means and how this rubric applies?
Lay off the old ladies. They belong to St. Therese. If you have no sense in you at all, at the very least you know not to mess with the Little Flower. You mind your manners, and she’ll get them straightened out.
By all means make good arguments for good art and good liturgy. But gently, if you can manage it. I stink at gentle. You have my sympathy. And too often, my company.
6.
I can’t wait until the next time Allie Hathaway’s in town, and we can show her the bunnies. Please pray for her and all her family.
7.
But I give you permission to make funny faces when the choir sings those heartfelt but, shall we say . . . not my favorite? . . . Okay nevermind. We’re not supposed to make funny faces at Mass. The Little Flower thanks you for just offering it up.
*Yes, I always end up in confession mentioning my inability to pay attention during Mass. I’m working on it.
Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy, who is nothing if not capable of punching a man-card.
Click and be amazed.
1.
Darwin reminded me I needed to write a Glock post. No blog is complete until you’ve done that. And look what I brought home from the library the other month, when I needed something completely different to get my mind off life for the weekend:
The boy took one look, and asked, “Why would Barrett write a book aboutGlocks??” He recognized the name of the CEO of a competitor, because um, because he did. Y chromosome on that child, confirmed.
I pointed him to the inside back cover. “I think it’s a different Barrett.” It is.
2.
Anyway, I enjoyed the book even more than I’d expected. Glock: The Rise of America’s Gun tells the story of Glock Inc. from the time Mr. Glock decided to try his hand at designing the weapon, through it’s rise as a market leader in the US, and into the human resources nightmare that ensued when radical success met original sin. Well told — Paul Barrett is a great story teller, and he explains the technical bits with the detail you need in order to understand the story, but without losing the non-technical audience.
As a business book, it is top-notch. Great look at the talent and plain old good fortune that made the company so successful — including some surprising twists in the gun control movement that helped spur sales and raise margins. Ideologically, Barrett is pretty firmly in the middle of the road on gun topics, and he keeps his politics out of all but a few annoying paragraphs of opinion* near the conclusion — you can just skim and move on.
Language caution: Don’t let the Amazon preview fool you, Barrett’s sources get quoted saying all kinds of words not allowed around my house. It isn’t overdone and I did not find it bothersome as an adult reader, but it’s not a g-rated book by a long shot.
As a morality tale, Glock is a brilliant study in human weakness, and the way that vice unchecked leads to perdition**. Barrett is Mr. Neutral through all of this — neither disturbed nor impressed by Glock’s sales tactics, other than to observe that they worked and they were legal. Turns out men are fairly predictable in certain realms.
–> For this reason, the book makes a great parent-teen book study . . . but only once your boy is already aware of the various perils men need negotiate. I held off on letting Mr. Boy read the book just yet.
3.
Why is it that it only takes 2 seconds to accidentally upload a profile pic on Twitter that, taken out of context, will totally horrify 98% of the people who have often suspected as much . . . but it takes about an hour to get Twitter to accept some innocuous substitute hiding in the same file folder? I suspect a plot to trap the careless.
3.5
Speaking of talented Catholic young men who like guns abridged anime – if you share the same interest, check out this guy: Mattroks 101’s You Tube channel. And with that you know more than I do, for I am utterly out of my depth on all things anime, except maybe you are wondering how I ended up linking such a thing . . .
***
PS: Link day. Help yourself if you are so inclined. Post as many as you want, but only one per comment or the spam dragon will eat you up and I’ll never even know.
*It is possible that if you read here, you secretly enjoy reading annoying opinions. Good for you. There’s three or four paragraphs you’ll just love.
**Not just eternal souls, though of course those are not to be neglected. But also small things teens can appreciate, like your colleagues trying to kill you, stuff like that.
All the paragraphs a person could need. Click to see.
If you clicked on this page from Jen F.’s blogfest because you saw the Kolbe Reviews picture, click here to see the whole series. It was the most interesting picture I had, and plus I’m so excited about my new page where you can find them all in one place.
You regular readers who are completely, utterly sick of hearing about Kolbe by now, here are 7 Takes with never a mention of the K-word:
1.
When I got to page 24 of Holiness for Everyone, I e-mailed Eric Sammons. “If this hasn’t gone to print yet . . . there’ s a typo.” I figured he or some other person had already caught it, but if it were my book, I’d appreciate someone telling me, just to be sure. What I saw was this:
1) A long quote, indented.
The author’s words, introducing next long, indented quote.
2) The second quote.
So that in-between prose shouldn’t be indented, since it isn’t part of the quotes. Right?
Um, no. But he very graciously answered me, “Oh yes, we had the same question, but OSV assures us it is correct.” I did not hear a single snicker in that e-mail. I feel sure the man’s been practicing his holiness.
And I replied, using my super-special idiot powers, “Okay. That’s a really strange convention.” Ha. Those weird publishers. What are they thinking??
But at 5 in the morning, I woke up to my crazy-busy brain back to work in crazy-busy mode, and suddenly I knew the answer. Everything made sense. I was no longer mystified.
2.
Remember long, long ago, when you used the “Tab” key to start a new paragraph? And then you didn’t have to put a blank line between every paragraph?
They were thinking that.
A world utterly, utterly removed from the reality of blogging software. Never even occurred to me to check and confirm that I was reading a book with indented paragraphs.
3.
Consider that your little pre-review for today. I hope it isn’t too much of a spoiler.
4.
I just looked real quick, and the first five books I pulled off my shelf all had them too. Apparently it’s the big thing in Catholic Publishing.
Okay, so no it isn’t really a surprise, because at 5:05 I found myself marveling at the genius of it all. And longing, deeply longing, to know how much money they saved by not having to print all those blank lines. What a way to save paper!
5.
Lately I’ve taken to spelling “paragraph” with only one p, and typing “gh” instead of “ph” at the end. And then I have to fix it. I do not like this new typo. But I’m very grateful for the red squiggly line that catches it every time.
6.
I bet Allie Hathaway knows how to spell “paragraph”. Thanks for praying for her today.
7.
That upstart Larry D. is picking a fight with Patheos again, and for my part I just don’t care, other than to wonder who are these people who don’t like Mark Shea* and what is wrong with them?
But you know what I do care about? It relates to Patheos because this happens to people when they move to Patheos, but Mark Shea and Elizabeth Scalia are both proof that reform is possible. Now I can’t just e-mail every famous Catholic blogger to complain, because look I already have this reputation over the Indenting Fiasco, so I’m just going to say it here:
Fix your settings so your whole post gets sent to the feed reader.
Thank you Darwin, Bearing, Julie D., and every other sensible blogger whom I read faithfully, due in part to this one kind act.
Also: Make that little “subscribe to comments” check box show up in the combox.
***
Thank you. Have a great weekend.
*Mark Shea writes books with indented paragraphs. Two P’s.
UPDATED – DARWIN CORRECTS MY CALCULATION: After reducing the tax-table amount by our tax credits ( Child Tax Credit in our case) the amount we actually owed was only 5%. Much better. Matches last year’s number, something of a relief after seeing that big jump in the first try. Thanks Darwin!
To calculate, take line 55, which is your tax less regular tax credits, divided by line 22, gross income. At least, that’s the way I do it when Darwin reminds me that’s the way I do it. Also when I remember that thanks to those PDF’s mentioned below, I don’t have to dig through files to check line number, I can just pull up the PDF in about ten seconds. Yay.
1. Our real federal tax rate was 8.5%. That’s taking our tax from the tax table cacluation as a portion of gross income. (Line 22 or thereabouts? I already put my forms away. It was line 22 last year.) I think it’s a useful calculation, since talk about taxes tends to revolve around theoretical tax rates, when the actual amount you pay may be something quite different.
[FYI for those of you haven’t done the real tax rate check-in before, please don’t post any income information or long explanations. Just the percentage. Privacy, modesty, all that.]
2. I was pleased to see that behind that flashy opening page, IRS.gov remains it’s same sensible self. If I could only have one website, that would have to be the one. Since everything else, in theory, I could do without. But the days of riding downtown and searching through the shelves at the tax office for the forms I need? I do not miss those days.
3. I love fillable forms.
4. Not the ones provided by third-party businesses I’ve never heard of and wouldn’t dream of using unless I had some time to research it, which I don’t. But those lovely, lovely IRS-issued PDF’s. Oh how I love them.
5. I wish South Carolina would take a hint and follow suit. Hand-writing is so 2009.
6. But give me that ol’ newsprint 1040 instruction manual. Thankfully my library stocks them. I see that last year I made do with printing out and secretly sorta liked it. I take that back. I hope there’s some law requiring them forever and ever amen. I can do PDF instructions for everything else, but for the 1040, I wanna flip pages. I highlight stuff. I make notes in the margins. I write numbers in the grainy gray worksheets. It is my friend.
7. Curse you, SC, for not printing SC Long Form booklets anymore. You, too, should give me a booklet. I want a booklet. I never bought into the accusations that SC is a “backward” state, but now I see it is true. Fillable PDF’s, newsprint booklets. It is The Way.
8. The IRS really does have good writers.
(Okay, after a certain point, I think they assume nobody is reading the instructions anymore, because if you dig into the more arcane forms, yes, incomprehensible. But a good ol’ 1040, and schedule A and those guys — yes. Well done. And thank you generous employers for not giving everybody $7 in foreign-source dividend income as an employee perk, the way you did that other time. I feel an HR person was burned in effigy over that little incident.)
9. Thank you kind person who forgot to pay me until January 2012. I owe you one. Saved me a ton of headache I didn’t need this year.
10. Geek humor: The SuperHusband was talking about income and work and raises. I told him to tell his boss about our big financial goal: We want to pay Alternative Minimum Tax*.
*It’s a JOKE. I’m KIDDING. Neither Powers nor Principalities need to get a laugh at my expense by making it actually happen. Thank you P&P for your self-restraint.
The National Catholic Reader is a series of graded readers originally published in the late 1800’s. They are similar to the McGuffey readers which were popular in the same era; both series are used among homeschoolers today. Like a modern reading book, the goal is to create a collection of texts which challenge the reader academically, and which impart the values of their time. Like a modern reading book, the collected reading texts vary in quality from trite to sublime.
I was using McGuffy prior to enrolling with Kolbe, and was happy to switch over to an explicitly-Catholic series. But the fact that I unschooled with historical readers tells you a bit about my tastes.
First let it be said: I’m not it in for the saccharine chicken-soup-for-farmhand’s-soul poems and morality tales. They are the bane of any reading book, and inescapable, for the obvious reason that some people love the stuff. But for all these might induce a coughing fit in the born-curmudgeon, there are three reasons I like using historical text books:
1. Students learn to read an older style of language. The classics are less intimidating if you are already familiar with the usage of previous eras.
2. They shed light on their period. As historical documents, they are an invaluable insight into late 19th century American life.
3. They call into question the values of our present time. Very specifically, I like that my kids are presented with a whole world whose priorities and values are utterly opposite much of what we accept as commonplace today. Not because I think the 19th century was the pinnacle of human achievement, but because it is important not to think that 2012 is Only Way It’s Ever Been. Here’s an example:
In the second-grade reader, there’s a just-so story about kindness and Providence. It opens by telling us about two girls, ages five and seven, who have just been orphaned. They have no relations, except an uncle in a distant village whom no one has heard from in years — he may or may not be alive. A kindly farmer has an errand in the general direction of the village. He drives the girls until their ways part, and then drops them off to walk the rest of the way alone.
Think about that. Last year my 5th grade son was brought home to me by the police because he was out wandering our neighborhood. (Taking down Lost Cat signs, as it happens). The officer was polite, and clear that we had done nothing wrong. All the same, he felt obliged to drive the child home.
This is why I like to use these books.
***
Kolbe sells a study booklet (separate from the course plans) which has reading comprehension questions for the student about each lesson. The corresponding teacher’s manual has the answers. The Course Plans assign sixth-graders one or two selections to be read each day, Monday through Thursday. In 4th Grade, students do lessons from the NCR two days a week, and do outside reading (student’s choice) the other two days. In 4th Grade the vocabulary course plans include additional words from the NCR, though not necessarily from that week’s lesson. For those not enrolled with Kolbe, I’d save the money and just type up your own set of assignments.
The course plans often call for memorizing poems. I know it’s good for the growing brain, and all that. But I can only bring myself to make my kids memorize things I’d want stuck in my own head. (See “chicken soup”, above.) So we frequently skip the memorization thing.
The quarterly exams in the course plans consist of a reading selection from McGuffey’s Reader, with comprehension questions similar to the ones the student has been answering throughout the quarter. If you are enrolled with Kolbe but your student is using McGuffey for a reading book instead of the NCR, Kolbe recommends you contact them for an alternate set of exams.
Because the exams do not depend on having completed any particular set of readings, it is very easy to skip or substitute selected readings in order to lighten the course load or concentrate on some other interest.
***
The reading level in the later grades is fairly elevated. One of the sixth grade assignments (and a fun one!) was to act out Shakespeare’s farewell from Wolsey to Cromwell. In earlier years the texts are more garden-variety stories for children, but by Book Six the selections move firmly into history and spiritual memoir, including meditations on great moments in the history of civilization from ancient times forward. Great moments you the product of our nation’s public schools may never have known happened.
Because the later books are very mature, there’d be nothing wrong with spreading out Book Six to be used through seventh and eighth grade. (You could use them into high school, but by then the literature course is itself quite demanding. The National Catholic Reader is an excellent preparation for the type of reading that will be required throughout high school with Kolbe, Mother of Divine Grace, or the like.)
One caution: There is ample room for cultural misunderstandings. Make sure your sixth grader knows the meaning of the word “niggardly” lest he mistakenly believe the book is written by bigots.
***
That’s all I know to say. What questions do you have?
Thanks once again to our host Larry D. at Acts of the Apostasy putting the mmmmn in Church Militant since . . . well, awhile.
It's electric. Except when it's not.
1.
You wanna know what’s better than bacon?Eric Sammons e-mailing to ask, “May I send you a review copy of my new book?”
I know! I couldn’t believe it either! I figured the SuperHusband must have driven to Florida in desperation, in order to beg a perfect stranger to please give his wife something, anything, that would help her grow in holiness. He would have observed that I already had a large collection of freebie plastic rosaries, so please did Mr. Sammons know of anything else that might help?
I worry sometimes that if I get too many review books, it will cause me to neglect my local Catholic bookstore. Fear not! The kids are taking care of us. For example – item #2 that’s better than bacon: This Sunday the “Roamin’ Catholic” bookmobile was parked at our parish. Yay! My favorite time of year! And the 4th grader spots this DVD and asks, “Please can we get this Mom?”
It’s a pretty simple formula: Child requests DVD about real-life Nazi-thwarting Secret Agent Nun? Mom says, “Um. Yes.” We haven’t watched it yet, though. I’ve been too busy yelling at the kids to clean the house growing in holiness.
3.
My biggest disappointment in reading Jack Chick tracts was the discovery that, through some bureaucratic snafu, I’d been cheated. If I really became a citizen of Vatican City the day I was baptized, where’s my passport??? Ah, but now my son has rectified my problem, and issued me my secret-agent ID:
Don’t worry, I’m still gonna carry my regular ID as well.
3.5
. . . delightful to read on a Sunday afternoon. See the review just below this post, or click here.
EDITED to add: And yeah, of course it’s link day. If you have one you want to share, we’re all eyes.
I know Karina Fabian through the Catholic Writers Guild, and a few years ago at one of the online conferences, I was the lucky winner of a copy Magic, Mensa & Mayhem, one of her earlier works in the Dragoneye, PI series.
I read it in one long evening of a reading-frenzy, which on the one hand isn’t shocking because if a book has a decent plot I get sucked in; on the other hand, it tells you the book has a decent plot, because Hitchiker’s Guide and Young GKC notwithstanding, I don’t usually read much of anything in the sci-fi/fantasy category. I subscribed to Karina’s new Rocket Science for the Rest of Us blog hoping maybe some of that science-geek power would rub off, but so far, no luck. I just keep ending up back at Dr. Boli. I’m the wrong kind of geeky.
Live and Let Fly is the latest in the DragonEye series (after a detour through zombie land — see Julie D.’s review here), narrated by a dragon, Vern, and his partner, Sister Grace. They are two magicals operating a detective agency on our side of a dimensional gap that has opened up between the mundane world (ours) and the faerie world.
This is Catholic-genre fiction, so Sister Grace is just one of many faerie-nun-superheros doing their part as agents for the Faerie Catholic Church — a rite in union with the Catholic Church as we know it, but with it’s own pope, and it’s own disciplines suitable for the various faerie beings. [Example: A mundane priest hearing Vern’s confession needs to know: Is it a sin for a dragon to eat another sentient being?]
Why I enjoyed this book:
1. At the end of the day, it’s a detective thriller. I like thrillers.
2. I love, love, love the humor. I had to skip some of my favorite excerpts because they contain spoilers, but here’s a couple quotes from earlier-on:
We’d had so many Save The Universe Cases, we’d given them their own code — STUC. Now if we could just arrange to get paid more for them. I was still working that angle. We had a rates scale, but asking for more money and getting it were two different things — and of course, we weren’t going to not save the world while we negotiated. Grace was pretty firm on that point.
***
The forty-something human, large enough to keep me fed for days, bearing a walrus mustache, hefted himself out of his chair. “Sister. Dragon. Welcome to the Bureau of Interdimensional Law Enforcement.”
BILE? There’s a name that must have been made in committee. Grace landed a subtle kick on my ankle, however, so I held off on the snide comments . . .
3. The pixies and brownies just crack me up. And Hel’s kitchen. Who knew?
Difficulties:
1. The writing is fast-paced and the story moves right along, never bogs down. The main characters are well-developed across the the course of the book. I did have some difficulty, though, with following the early crime-scene and around-town dialogue, and likewise again back at the station at the end of the story — lots of minor characters filling out the set. Some of the characters I recognized from MMM, but since that one is set primarily in Florida, I wasn’t familiar with all the locals from previous stories set in Los Lagos, Colorado, where Vern keeps his lair. It’s worth tooling around the DragonEye, PI blog if you need to get up to speed.
2. I kinda stink at mythology. You who know your gods and goddesses will get a lot more out of the many references — sometimes in passing, other times with assorted demi-gods coming on as significant characters. I could follow along, though — the books provides all the essential background on the major players.
Who would like this book? If you’d rather be reading Thomas Hardy, please, just go. Go. Do not even look. See the dragon and nun on the cover? This is not for you.
But if you want playful adult* Catholic fiction that entertains? Then you’re set.
*FYI for all that this is very explicitly Catholic-genre, joyfully kitschy with no apologies, if you’re looking for sugar-coated g-rated fluff, skip to another book. I’d rate this Teen/Adult for language, innuendo, and mature themes. More gracefully and faithfully handled than anything ever said in a junior-high locker room, but no matter how sorry and degenerate our culture, these topics really are not meant for little readers. So parents read first before you hand it over to your pre-teen, you’ll need to judge what your child is ready to read.
Today for my Quick Takes I’m reviewing Sarah Reinhard’s new book, Catholic Family Fun. This is a stop on Sarah’s virtual book tour, so she should be lurking around the combox ready to answer any questions you have.
FYI, Sarah is not only a super-friendly person, she is also an extrovert, which means that her life as a writer is made tolerable by finding people to chat with. So say “Hi Sarah!”. She’ll be excited.
2.
This is what the book looks like:
It’s about 140 pages, paperback, nice sturdy glossy cover. It’s designed to float around your house and be abused.
3.
What’s inside?
You know how women’s magazines have those little articles about fun things to do with your family? This is like 10 years of those ideas all in one place. Only you are spared those obnoxious photos of pristine toaster ovens and closets organized by that sect of hermits who take a vow to own nothing but three pieces of splashy, sassy, ready-for-spring ensembles to pair with their strappy heels. Also, no perfume ads.
Instead you get page after page of practical, realistic ideas for unplugged family activities that you can customize to match your kids’ ages and interests. The chapters are organized by types of activities (crafts, meals, outdoor adventures, etc.), and there are several easy-to-read indexes in the back to help you quickly find the ones that match your budget and energy level. Most of the suggestions are either free, or involve money you were going to spend anyway. (You are going to eat today, right?)
Other than the chapters on prayer and on the saints, the activities themselves can be purely fun family time, or they can be explicitly tied to the Catholic faith. Every activity includes suggestions on how to make the faith connection.
4.
What if you aren’t crafty? Don’t panic on the crafts, there aren’t that many and they are very low-key. Indeed, I’d say this is the perfect book for people who don’t do glitter glue, foam art, or anything involving popsicle sticks, ever. Did I mention Sarah R. is a real mom of young children, with a farm, and a writing job, and . . . you get the picture. You may find yourself wanting an internet connection to pull off a few of these activities (I see you have access to one, very good), but no glue gun will ever be needed.
What if you are, in fact, the grumpy, curmudgeonly type? See the next section. I advise letting your kids pick the activities. That way you never need fear you’ve gotten all goofy and relaxed for nothing. Also you could tell the kids you aren’t going to do Chapters 1 and 2 yourself, but you’ll give them five bucks if they’ll just be quiet while your finish reading the paper. (Um, wait a minute. No, that’s not how the book’s supposed to work. Oops.) Chapters 3-9 are Curmudgeon-Safe, though the one idea about a backyard circus makes me a little nervous . . .
5.
Who could use this book? Three groups of people come to mind, and last was a surprise to me, but it’s true:
1. Parents, grandparents, and other relatives.
If you’re trying to think up new ways to connect to the kids, and get out of the rut of doing the same old things.
If you have a long summer vacation ahead, with stir-crazy children and no money for expensive camps and activities.
Or if you didn’t have a satisfyingly Catholic childhood, and you want to find ways to share and practice your faith without being all stodgy and dour about it.
2. Kids. My daughter is fighting me for custody of our copy. The book is eminently readable, so you really can hand it to a late-elementary or older child, and say, “Pick something out for us to do Saturday.” I like that because then the onus is on the kids to decide which activity sounds fun — and I’m always surprised by what kids come up with when given the choice.
3. Catechists, VBS volunteers, scout leaders, and anyone else charged with keeping a group of kids busy for an hour or two. Some of the activities will only work in a family setting, but very many of them are well-suited to using in a classroom. The suggestions for faith tie-ins make this an awesome resource for religious ed and VBS. If your parish doesn’t have money for a high-priced pre-packaged program with talking pandas and cheesey chipmunk videos, you could seriously just go through this book and pick out activities to assemble a home-grown series of your own.
6.
You know who loves a good VBS program? Allie Hathaway. It’s Friday, so we’re praying for her. And hey, offer up a quick one for Sarah Reinhard’s intentions as well. Thanks!
7.
What else do you want to know? I’ve wrestled the book out of my daughter’s hands, so I’m happy to look stuff up and answer questions. Sarah’s around here somewhere, and if she doesn’t get to you today, she’s a very reliable combox-attender, so feel free to ask her questions as well.
Click the picture to find out where the book tour is going next.
PS: This and a package of pre-cooked bacon would make a great Mother’s Day gift.
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Updated to toss in three bits of full disclosure, which together give the most accurate picture:
7.1) Pauline Media sent me a review copy.
7.2) You might have caught on, Sarah & I are friends, and perhaps you’ve noticed we work together at the CWG blog. Which means that if she wrote a lousy book, I just wouldn’t review it. I’m very grateful she doesn’t write lousy books, because that saves us a lot of awkward moments.
7.3) See “free book” above. I gave a copy of this book to my DRE, who is a mom and grandma of 10 bazillion children, and always griping observing that all the grandkids do is play Angry Birds. I knew she’d love to pass it around her family, and I was thrilled to see she could use it for religious ed ideas too. But you know what? I did not give her my free copy. See, that’s what I would have done if this was a so-so book. Instead, I paid cash to buy her a brand new copy of her own.
Hey and a gratuitous 7.4: Let’s just clarify: If you want a collection of pom-pom art ideas, this is not your book.
My Hail Mary post at Sarah R.’s place is up. What I discovered writing it, is that I’d been looking at this question of feminine genius all backward. Our culture wants us to look at men, and try to guess how women compare. But just ask Adam — it’s the other way around. He was adrift until he discovered Eve. What, after all, is the purpose of tending the garden and taking care of creation, and all the other amazing and wonderful things guys do? What is the work of Christ, the bridegroom, done in service to His bride, the Church? He makes her mission possible. That is, Christ and the Church have a single mission.
BTW I stuck the photo up big, here, so you can see that girl-smile. It doesn’t quite come across when posted in moderation, the way sensible blog-owners do.
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I’ve got an article in the new issue of Mater et Magistra. I haven’t seen the final (edited) version, so I can’t tell you exactly all the parts that made the cut. [You never know how many words there will be room for, once all the articles for the month are gathered together. So I submitted my article divided into sub-sections so it would be easy to edit down in chunks.]
But anyhow, it’s pure accountant-frugality meets homeschool-desperation: How do you decide what books to buy? Don’t panic, I don’t advise anyone to act like I do and buy waaaaaay too many books. Instead I actually talked with a bunch of much more sensible and practical homeschool moms, and found out what does and does not work in real life, for staying sane and under-budget, and still getting school done.
Let me know what you think when you read it, I’ll happily post your thoughts here.
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I haven’t figured out how to get my Amazing Catechists feed working quite right, but one day I will. Meanwhile, I posted about Journals & the Sacrament of Confession this week. Because a real live human being (who I don’t know personally, and I have no idea when or where or how the incident took place) asked my opinion on this:
Is it appropriate for religion teachers to ask students about their sins? In my friend’s religion class, the teacher asked him to write in his journal about one of the sins he would be confessing at his next confession. What do you think?
No, seriously. I didn’t make that up. I can write fiction, but there are limits. And anyway, I don’t do horror.
