Beatrix Potter Read Aloud Problem Solved

As I mentioned earlier, I’d been stumbling through Potter’s Complete Works because I just couldn’t get the rhythm of it.  Solved that problem today: Warmed up with a minute or so of a dreadful fake British accent.  Put the brain in just the right place.   Was then able to finish the Tale of Mr. Tod (using my normal voice, like a sane person), and it actually sounded good.  Great fun.

[Curiously: Reading Anne of Green Gables works beautifully if you accidentally give Matthew Cuthbert a southern accent.  Go figure.]

The Better Part

This year both of our candidates for governor were close to my own age.  Would have known them at school, if I had gone to the other state U.   So the election forced the same thoughts as whenever I read the alumni news blurbs in the back of the ol’ college newsletter.

–> Having laid aside my career-ish activities a decade ago, I am always surprised, and a touch envious, of how much  my classmates have accomplished since then.  Partner of this law firm, director of that state agency, etc. etc.  Naturally no one’s sending in announcements along the lines of “Bill Smith, BA Philosphy 1994, was recently promoted to assistant-janitor at Target Store #3581 . . .” — I know there are plenty of us non-accomplishers, and we keep our news a little lower-profile.

Being a homeschooling mom, there’s no real credential to report.  Everyone (who can) has got kids, everyone manages to educate their kids.  Homeschooling isn’t some guarantee of a superior child-product:  I know plenty of great teens out there who grew up attending the local public schools, both parents working full-time.

On a good day, though, I’m Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus, while the other ladies bustle in the background.  It’s sort of selfish, honestly.  My peers are running the wider world, and I’m sitting out on the patio table reading Beatrix Potter to a six-year-old.  It’s a sacrifice yes.  Give up something good in order to have something better.

Praying for a Miraculous Cure . . .

. . . of my ability to manage paperwork.

Not kidding.  Not being cute or flippant.  Totally mean it, have totally prayed for it, and promised God that if He came through, I would not forget where my help came from nor fail to give credit.

Because yeah, it’s that desperate.   I am no star pupil in the housekeeping department, but the other kinds of messes I can more or less manage, if only spasmodically.  Papers have me stumped.  Totally blown away.

And yes, I am an accountant.  I love love accounting theory.  Give me some sordid out-of-balance problem, and I am all over it like a little financial P.I.  Tell my you need xyz report from some bizarre, disobedient accounting software, and I will find a way to give you your data.   I even — sit down for this — *enjoy* doing my taxes.  In fact my tax file looks pretty good.

–> It’s all the other papers that are killing me.

So anyway, that’s what I’m praying for these days.  And working on from my end.  So far God has helped me move a few little rolling-hills at the foot of the mountain, which I take to be a good start.  But I had to post here as part of the bargain.  So that if one day I’m this super amazing organized lady with beautiful files and a shiny desk-top, you can remind me that it was through no talent of my own that I got to be that way.

A new encyclical!

Woohoo!  Wildly excited to see that news, as I tried desperately to catch up on my goofing-off today.   [Dear Lord Jesus, thank you for giving us a Pope who writes things I am just barely smart enough to read.] Printed it out, will drag to Las Vegas next week with the rest of my overdue reading pile, and maybe write about it one day.   Meanwhile, the summer vocation goes very well in massively busy kind of way.  Hope you are having a good summer yourself.