I’ve been doing amazingly fantabulously well over the past week or so. Thank you everyone who has prayed. Not cured, but enjoying a particularly good run of things. Got a little bit of gardening done, trimmed smallish limbs and branches, drove a couple places, and slept like a normal person, neither more nor less. I’m happy.
Went in for preliminary lung-function tests with pulmonologist #2, appointment to follow on a date TBD. This round was much shorter — exhausting and left me with a mild headache-type thing, but nowhere close to the Pulmonology Circle of Hell. I like this guy already. (He’s the one that will, in theory, either dx or rule out exercise-induced pulmonary hypertension.)
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You know who I like as a patron? Rafael Cordero. Don’t let the nickname scare you, he’s a cool guy. I want to learn more about him.
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In blorging since last I wrote, and I see it’s been a while:
April 17, 2014 Unplugging for the Triduum – Expect radio silence until early Easter. Get the bacon ready.
April 16, 2014 Modesty as the Language of Virtue – Disjointed thoughts on modesty. No mention of bikinis. I stick to my guns on men not wearing (only) tights, though. Just no.
Spent about a week feeling way, way worse. As in: Light-headed verging on headache-y if a sat upright. At all. So I watched movies, because writing flat on your back is not so fun. Interestingly (disturbingly?) the one thing I didn’t do was pray any better. But SuperHusband & I did do some contingency pre-planning, and discuss funeral music, because, well, we’re picky about music. Last night I pointed him to the Dies Irae, and he was alarmed no one had ever played it in church before. Makes you feel cheated. I’ve never heard it myself, I just look at in the hymnal and know that I love it.
So whichever one of us dies first, the other one gets to hear good funeral music live, and the early-departer gets the remote version. (Or, if we’re bad . . . let’s not think about that. I know there’s suffering in purgatory, but our Lord wouldn’t stoop so low as to open The Gather and . . . we’re not talking about that now. I’m going with those lines about pleading for mercy.)
So my kids have this weird notion that the way one faces serious illness is to give your spouse dating advice and watch movies all day.
And then I started feeling better again. I won’t say I feel *normal* sitting upright, but at least I feel normal enough that I keep doing it, because: More interesting.
And definitely not feeling all funeral-planny this week, so that’s good.
Follow-up appt with cardiologist next week, in which we figure out where I should go next.
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I started back writing stuff, and if you don’t subscribe to the blorg, you can periodically check the archives and click on the interesting stuff. I’m trying to use titles that more or less tell you what the post is about. Here you go, I think this is all the interesting bits since last I posted here:
March 28, 2014 Do the Ends Justify the Means? Blog catechism class, because some of my readers were unclear on how double-effect and don’t-do-evil-that-good-may-come-of-it work. Also, now my all time favorite intro to theology book can be purchased on Amazon — that is, there were six copies, used, when earlier I wrote. They might all be sold now.
March 27, 2014 How Can the Spirtually Flabby Be Helped? Link to my New Evangelizers column. I was irritated by the people who say, “Lent is So Easy! Quit Whining!”, so I wrote about how they could quite whining about the whiners (me), and make themselves useful around their parish.
March 27, 2014 How’s that Religious Freedom Thing Working Out These Days? The Constitution. I’m partial to it. Blame my upbringing. Interesting weird arguments going on in the combox. Someone brought Rastafarians into it, as people will.
March 26, 2014 What Makes a Catholic Book Catholic? Link to my column at the CWG. Because the day before I said I really really liked Funeral Kings (movie), and I do like it, and you should be briefly scandalized by that that assertion, but I have reasons. But no, it’s not Catholic — at least, not the kind of Catholic that gets a CWG Seal of Approval.
March 25, 2014 St. Dismas Day, and a Movie to go with: Funeral Kings More f-bombs in that movie than I think I have ever heard anywhere anytime, and that’s saying something. And yet weirdly, it’s a good movie, in it’s way.
March 23, 2014 On Evangelization: Even People Like You are Missionary Material Reprint from a few years ago, column from Amazing Catechists that coincided with the day’s Gospel, which was the Samaritan woman at the well. You may remember it’s the one where we see how she evangelized despite herself.
That’s all I know. Some real life friends and I were thinking we ought to pick a reputable Servant of God (a “venerable”) who’s angling for a promotion to be our next invoked-saint. Any suggestions? Favorites?
psst . . . Jen . . . quit mixin’ up your holy-people terms. “Servant of God” is the step before “Venerable.” See more here, Thank You, Wikipedia!
A friend gave me a green scapular last week, about which I was stoked even before I googled and figured out exactly what it was. It came pre-blessed, which thrilled me to no end, since I’m so shy about bugging priests for stuff. (Certain priests would not believe this. But it is true.) I felt like the people in the pre-blessed foods commercial.
Tomorrow Wed 3/12 is heart cath day. I find that thinking of it as a teeny tiny plumbing snake being fed through my blood vessels to be oddly comforting. In a terrifying sort of way*.
I’ve been wicked tired today (Tuesday) and this is, if I guess rightly, a good thing. But it’s also my excuse for not doing that thing you were hoping I would get to. Sorry. I’ll catch up or drop dead or something, and you’ll be happy in the end, it’ll be okay.
No telling when I’ll be back at it, but you’ll see me then. Have a good week!
*I am not really terrified. Being a writer, I’m capable of imagining all kinds of gruesome scenarios with cardiac procedures gone wrong. But being a *Catholic* writer, there’s always that happy ending. Small things with great drama, isn’t that how the saying goes?
1. CatholicMom.com is temporarily under the weather, but when it comes back up (pray for Lisa Hendey’s sanity), my monthly homeschooling column should be there. I talk about homeschooling-while-sick, but no handy tips, mostly just, “Yeah, my kids are awesome.” I’ll link to the article when it recovers.
2. Prayer request for me: I’ve got two kids coughing and sneezing. Ordinary colds. I’m keeping my distance. I really, really, would be better off not catching this thing. Recall: I’m already coughing just laughing or moving around too much. Not in one of those dramatic, “time for the tear-jerking moment in the musical” ways, but still . . . I’d just rather not go there. Whereever Me + Cold turns out to be. Thanks.
(If I seem like I’m on social media a ton, instead of hovering over my children while they do their homework, it’s because yes, I’m trying to be in a different room than them. We’re in communication, yes we are. School is happening, just more hands off than usual.)
3. Speaking of suffering, here’s a preview of my new blorg outpost:
The blog is still under construction, FYI. Waiting on the header art, need to learn how disqus works, lots of little jobs. But I’m going ahead and getting a few posts up so that the living room isn’t empty when everyone comes over for the big housewarming party.
And yes, I discussed my assimilation situation with Larry D. and he said he’d pray for me. (Um, seriously, I loved Larry’s Star Trek piece, which I can’t seem to find right now. Larry & I are good friends online, and respectfully agree to disagree on the prudence of blorging. Y’all: Larry’s got a special intention he needs prayed for, so regardless of your level of vexation regarding the blorg, say a prayer for him today? Yes? Thank you.)
I’ll announce again once the paint is dry and the curtains are hung.
4. What I do with my free time instead of watching infuriating television shows: I break into the spouse’s video editing software, and mostly don’t botch it that badly. A few technical errors, but for my first attempt at making a movie without swearing or punching walls, I’m okay with it: Lord Have Mercy, There’s a Baby in my Church.
The artwork is from Wikimedia, and the soundtrack can be downloaded here, for free. Pick the “Whitbourne Conf. Mass.” Funny story: St. P’s did this twice, once on the weekend, and once for the Confirmation Mass, recorded with two different setups. Jon asked me to pick which of the two I liked better. I liked the sound on this recording better than the other, but I also really, really liked the babies.
St. Peter’s doesn’t usually put babies in their choir, but the bishop came, so they pulled out all the stops.
5. People want to know how I’m doing. So, sometimes, do I. What I know:
I feel perfectly normal as long as I’m sitting around. I’m getting a lot of writing done.
Animated conversation kills me, but calm conversation is okay. I thought I needed more boring friends. I think I just need to not talk so loud, and listen more.
I cough when I laugh out loud. This happens all the time, because of the people I live with. I think it’s probably pretty safe.
I cough if I move around too much. I’m getting better at avoiding this. I’m not sure if it’s from just breathing too deeply, or if it’s something more nefarious.
But a little bit of up and down, in moderation, isn’t a problem. I’m getting better at figuring out what “in moderation” looks like, so I feel better and am less tired than a week ago.
Otherwise I’m totally normal. No problem with speed, balance, snarky comments, etc etc.
Actually I’m better than normal, since my other minor signs of decrepitude are all aggravated by walking around too much, and I’m nowhere near that level of activity. Long term, of course, that’s a good way to die early. But short term it’s pretty funny that being seriously ill = being not in pain, at all, unlike normal life in which a handful of minor aches are just everyday reality.
To do items for this week: Keeping aiming for that exact right combination of rest and activity, and avoid catching the girls’ colds. Heart cath next week.
6. I’m not freaked out because, you know, catechist. Forget the nonsense about facing serious illness with a “we can beat this!” attitude. I mean sure, I’m all about that, and am doing my share to see it done. I strongly, strongly prefer being alive, thank you. But sooner or later you’re going to drop dead. Either you’re okay with that or you’re not. Probably catechesis is not for you if the prospect of eternal life doesn’t take the edge off.
1) Usually snow does not actually cause any more problems in the South than it does anywhere else. That thing going on in Atlanta is an aberration. And really? Atlanta? It’s Atlanta. ‘Nuf said.
2) Ice causes problems. There is an economic case to be made in favor of below-ground power lines. But the call-before-you-dig people probably have the winning charts, so I bet our lines stay overhead for a long, long time. And really, the ice mostly just makes things cold and unpleasant. It can cause the same terrible problems it can cause anywhere. But most people don’t experience that. So you’d have to have some serious cost-benefit studies before even taking on much in the way of anti-ice measures.
But, please, dear northern friends, do not form a 501(c)3 and start collecting funds for poor, snowplow-deprived southerners.
3) Because here’s the clincher: When we get “winter weather”? We want to stay home.
Not only is there no financial justification for, say, your county owning a snow plow when you have a perfectly good Sun that will be back again by Friday . . . who’d want one? Why on earth would anyone want to go to work on the only snow day in a year? If you’re lucky enough to get snow that often. Way better to get out the ATV, hitch up a towline and an inner tube, tell the kids to hang on tight, and do donuts on the school playground.
Clarification: I don’t actually think parents should do this. But I approve of the spirit of such recreation. Only mean nasty evil people think innocent children should do school work during the Snow Minutes. Sheesh, one shouldn’t even have to do housework doing the snow minutes. You shouldn’t have to go to bed. You should just admire, photograph, touch, shape, throw, sculpt, and roll in the stuff.
I do feel cheated, though, because NOAA’s revised their forecast, and it’s not supposed to hit 60 by the end of the week. I was looking forward to short sleeves. Meanwhile, yes, of course we have harvested our icicles and tucked them away safely in the freezer. Waste not want not.
Got home last week, made it through Co-op Friday with the help of Starbucks Via (I know, I know, let’s not talk about that), and got halfway through writing a post about singing the Divine Office when I came down with Plague #348, Do Not Try Singing Version. So that article’s sitting half-written. It’s hard to write about singing when you can’t.
Three girls are down with the evil thing today, so they’re doing the Steve Ray homeschool curriculum while I catch up on e-mail and other things that can done while sitting very, very still. The Healthy One has been promised my piece of coffee cake from yesterday if he does all his homework and cleans the house.
Kitten Watch 2014 We got home from the March for Life, and our cat was still pregnant. SuperHusband had given up on her, and decided she must just be really fat. #2 theorized it was a nasty case of parasites. But the resident I’ve-been-pregnant person (me) was able to persuade them that those wiggly minature-spinal column things you can feel if you palpate Cat’s abdomen very gently? Yeah. Kittens.
And I keep catching that &(*^%&* cat in my closet. Just no. NO!
I started the week all productive. New quarter. Got the checklists printed out, vowed, “This time I will stay on track!” all that. Also, I had to pick Mr. Boy’s next literature choice. I went through the Kolbe Jr. High Lit Course Plans, and Merchant of Venice kept popping out at me. I was leary after the Great Poetry Fiasco of 2013, but I heeded the little voice.
And I got a brilliant idea: Since two big kids are always hanging around wanting to talk to use from 9-10, formerly known as “Kids Are In BED AND PARENTS HAVE ADULT TIME”, yes I am shouting by the end of that sentence, I figured out a way to either get the children to go to bed, or live out the homeschool fantasy of everyone sitting around reading Shakespeare together in the evening. Win either way, right?
So Tuesday night I hand out copies (mismatched, but we rolled with it) of the play, we divied up the parts for Act 1, Scene 1, and it went pretty well. Some of us were having so much fun, we went ahead and started scene 2.
At which point, Splash.
Yes. My child vomited over Shakespeare.
Said child reported after, “My stomach felt weird, but I wasn’t sure . . .”. So hard to tell the difference between a stomach virus and Literature Dread.
[Everyone’s better now, thanks for asking.]
When we restart, I’m issuing a bucket with each manuscript.
2. I updated my e-mail software. I hate it. That is my excuse for why I can’t find your e-mail anymore. I will grow and change and find your message and reply to it. Soon. But not before late afternoon today.
I borrowed this photo without asking. Because I never, ever, want to lose the link to this post. If Jen F. makes me take it down, I will. But you know why she’s a superstar blogger? Because: Affordable Wine. Doesn’t get much more Catholic than that.
3. Let’s talk about your vocabulary, hmmn?
Good Catholic friends, please tell me you know that you’re not supposed to take the Lord’s name in vain? So I will charitably assume that if you gasp “Oh my God!” when talking about someone else’s clothing choice, or the water bill this month, or what happened in Congress, that you are in fact moved to prayer. I think you should cut it out, because everyone *thinks* you’re just taking the Lord’s name in vain, and maybe you even are. But I’m not going to presume.
What with being Catholics, we tend to cling tightly to our right to use “strong language”. All those things St. Paul has to say about our word choice are trumped by our Lord’s choice insults, yes? So we say. I’ll not take up that fight today.
But if you’re going to resort to coarse, over-used cliches of insults for lack of a broader vocabulary — perhaps your imagination is foiled in the face of tribulation — would you please kindly restrict yourself to accurate metaphors?
For example, some people accuse the Church of thinking sex is dirty or shameful or I don’t know what. It’s nonsense of course — quite the opposite: If we are very particular about chastity, it’s because sex is so powerfully good, holy even, and should not be profaned in any way. We only have seven sacraments, and one of them has to do with sex. Yep.
So, please oh please oh please, speak as if you’ve been catechized. Do not sling around crude terms for the marital act as your insult of choice — let alone as your darkest and strongest insult. Do you really think that intercourse is some foul, nasty, evil thing? When you search for some vivid way to describe a sordid injustice, is the first thing that comes to mind your experience with the marital act?
I certainly hope not. Clean it up.
4. Come see me talk. St. Peter’s Catholic Church, Columbia, SC, Saturday Nov. 9th, daytime. I’m just doing a panel in the afternoon, on the “Classroom Management” topic. In the morning I’ll be listening. I kinda wish I could listen in the afternoon, too, the other panelists look pretty interesting – I can’t find an internet link, but the overall topic is stuff like bullying, working with special needs students — useful. Contact the Diocese of Charleston Catechesis Folks to get more info or to RSVP. There’s a nominal cost that covers lunch -n- stuff. Gorgeous site, too, do visit the church and cemetery if you come.
5. Speaking of sex . . . I’m hosting a blog tour and giveaway for Simcha’s new book on NFP. Where should I do it? Here? Amazing Catechists? Patheos? I need to pick a spot.
6. Speaking not of sex . . . My friend Karina Fabian has a new book out. I haven’t read it, but I keep meaning to blurb it. If you like clean adult sci-fi, Catholic-themed usually, fun and a quick read, take a look. I’ve never not enjoyed reading one of her books, though I don’t do the zombie thing — I had to crop her cover for my presentation on finding a publisher this past summer at CWG, because, gross. Firmly planted in my Hardy Boys Not Thomas Hardy preferred category.
7. Aren’t these beautiful? I can’t decide whether they’re in budget or not. I do need a holy water font for the house. I’m nervous about the glass. But wow. Pretty.
I’ve given up on getting anything done today, after about fifty laps towards an accomplishment, each time reeled back in by a child who needs me. In the meantime, a selection from #2’s quarter exams. The underlined word is the vocabulary word she had to use in an original sentence:
The inner tube popped when Albert, whose weight was over the maximum capacity, sat in the tube.
Laurena knew what she must do: Confront the strict Mr. Flitcher.
Mariah’s groundless worries of food poisoning left her weak and malnourished.
She had lost some points for spelling and punctuation here and there, so I gave her a bonus 2% for entertaining me.
A friend gave me a green scapular
