11.29.09
Posted in Musings at 5:37 am by ginny
Now that Thanksgiving is over, the Christmas season has officially begun for me. (Usually, I refuse to listen to Christmas carols until after Turkey Day. It just feels too much like I’m cheating that lovely holiday, you know?) But now I’ve busted out the Christmas CDs, the tree is up, and I’m starting to think about replenishing my store of holiday wrapping paper. ‘Tis the season.
There are so many things to like about Christmas. Obviously, the fact that God was born of woman and came to live among us on this messy planet is the biggest. But there are lots of little things, too, that always make me smile. Here are just a few:
1) Cars with Christmas trees tied on top
2) Advent calendars – the ones with lots of glitter, preferably printed in Germany
3) Eggnog (I don’t really drink it much, honestly, but I like how festive it is)
4) White lights shining in bare trees
5) “A Charlie Brown Christmas” — a classic, now and forever
7) Nativity sets, like this one at our church:
So what are the little things that you love? What is Christmas to you?
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11.27.09
Posted in Uncategorized at 9:27 pm by ginny
Aargh. Technology is such a blessing … except when it’s a curse.
I’ve been hearing from a few folks that they are unable to post comments on my blog lately. If you’re reading this, do you mind posting a quick comment to see if it goes through? I’ll even give you a question to answer, if you’d like: What was the most delicious thing you ate on Thanksgiving? I’ll post an answer myself to see if it goes through.
Or, if that question doesn’t float your boat, just type in a message saying … well … anything that you feel like saying!
If your comment doesn’t go through, do you mind shooting me a quick email to let me know? You can reach me at ginny@maryandme.org.
Thank you for your help! And thanks for your readership, too — I do appreciate it greatly. Advent blessings to all!
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11.25.09
Posted in Feast Days and other fun times at 4:58 am by ginny
The other day, I was talking to a coworker about Thanksgiving dinners. We got on the subject of stuffing. It turned out that both of us had scary stuffing stories — those times that you are dining at someone else’s house for Thanksgiving, and their stuffing contains some ingredient that just doesn’t belong there. You know what I mean, right? — that quirky ingredient, be it oysters or apples or chestnuts, that flies in the face of all that you have always believed that stuffing should be.
More than any other item on the Thanksgiving table, people are fiercely parochial about stuffing. Nearly everyone I’ve ever talked to about this subject (okay; that’s about five people, but anyhow) agrees that stuffing should always taste like Mom made it. The problem, of course, is that there are many moms out there, and each one has her own way of making it. Trying to get people to agree on the ideal stuffing recipe is a heroic effort of diplomacy and negotiation, one that makes arms talks look like kids’ play.
Naturally, of course, I will cry to all the nations that my mom’s recipe is the best. She uses rye bread in her stuffing, and it is mouth-wateringly delicious. I’ve tasted others that are pretty good, but none can come close to my mom’s for the sheer flavor. I’ve never made it myself; one consequence to having a ridiculously small house is that you never end up hosting Thanksgiving dinner. One of these years, though, I’ll get her to give me a tutorial so I can carry on the rye tradition with pride.
So yes, I’m looking forward to the stuffing. I’m also looking forward to the turkey and the cranberry sauce and the red wine and the pies. Even more, though, I’m looking forward to a day off to celebrate the many blessings in my life: the family with whom I’ll be sharing my meal, the memories of holidays past, and the faith that keeps uniting us.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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11.23.09
Posted in Images of Mary, Quotes and prayers at 5:03 am by ginny
Star of the Sea is one of my favorite names for Mary. Apparently, Pope Benedict likes it, too. It’s hard to think of a more eloquent tribute to Mary than this excerpt from his encyclical Spe Salvi (Saved by Hope):
With a hymn composed in the eighth or ninth century, thus for over a thousand years, the Church has greeted Mary, the Mother of God, as ‘Star of the Sea’: Ave maris stella. Human life is a journey. Towards what destination? How do we find the way? Life is like a voyage on the sea of history, often dark and stormy, a voyage in which we watch for the stars that indicate the route. The true stars of our life are the people who have lived good lives. They are lights of hope. Certainly, Jesus Christ is the true light, the sun that has risen above all the shadows of history. But to reach him we also need lights close by–people who shine with his light and so guide us along our way. Who more than Mary could be a star of hope for us? With her “yes” she opened the door of our world to God himself; she became the living Ark of the Covenant, in whom God took flesh, became one of us, and pitched his tent among us.
(Pope Benedict XVI; November 30, 2007; section 49.)
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11.20.09
Posted in Yes, Jane Austen deserves her own category at 5:25 am by ginny
Last Saturday, the boys spent the afternoon and evening at my parents’ house. Scott and I went back home for a few relaxing hours before heading out to a tapas bar. It was strange sensation to be back at home without hearing four little feet running over hardwood floors. Scott celebrated the silence by taking a nap; I pulled out some mending, savoring the fact that I could leave a pincushion of needles on the coffee table and not worry about a toddler impaling himself. It felt odd and quiet and, to be honest, very nice.
And do you know when it really hit me that I had a few hours to myself? When I went to the DVD player and took out this:
and put in this:
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11.18.09
Posted in Books NOT about Mary at 5:29 am by ginny
Have you read Eat, Pray, Love? And if so, did you like it?
Here’s why I’m asking: I had one of the weirdest reading experiences of my life with that book.
As you probably know, Eat, Pray, Love is a best-selling memoir written by Elizabeth Gilbert. Following the demise of her marriage, she embarks on a journey of self-discovery that covers several countries and nine months. She spends three months in Italy, where she dedicates herself to an appreciation of food; three months in an ashram in India, where she studies and practices meditation; and three months in Indonesia, where she focuses on love (or so I have heard. I did not actually get that far).
Before I go further, let me say that I honestly hesitated to write this post. I mean, I’m an author too; I know how hard it is to read criticism of your writing. But the fact is, I’m honestly curious about the fact that I did not get into this book. I’d like to figure out why I didn’t. I’d also love to hear from folks who did like it.
Here’s my story: a friend lent me this book , and I was eager to dive in. The first section , where Gilbert describes the end of her marriage, her emotional breakdown, her reaching for spirituality, totally gripped me. It’s not easy to expose your inner self that completely; I was rooting for her and pulling for her and utterly along for the ride. She went to Italy; she ate a lot of good food; her descriptions made me hungry. But then, slowly, almost without noticing it, I started to lose interest in the book.
I followed her to India. I got halfway through her stay in the ashram and her description of the struggles of meditating … and then I realized that I had absolutely no interest in reading further. I ran out of steam, totally and completely. Never before have I started to care so little about a book that initially gripped me.
And I’m wondering why.
Part of me has to admit that yes, there is a leetle bit of jealousy here. I’ve traveled too, and I loved it, and I’d adore the chance to spend nine months finding myself in foreign countries. And the snarky part of me says, “Okay, give me a huge advance to spend nine months abroad and write about it, and I’ll go have intense spiritual experiences too.”
But that is Bad Ginny talking. Even aside from those petty thoughts, though, there was something about the book that just started to leave me cold. And the more I’ve thought about it and talked to others about it, the more I’ve realized that it’s this: The book just does not relate to my life.
Yes, I eat, and I pray, and I love (granted, I do too much of the first, and not enough of the last two). That said, I do all three as a working mom who never seems to have enough time to spend on myself. And reading a memoir by someone who has the leisure to focus totally on herself for nine months just felt too far from my life to feel meaningful. As a friend of mine said, “I don’t need to hear about how to find yourself in an ashram. I need to hear how to find yourself when you are changing diapers and sweeping Cheerios off of the floor.” That’s not to say that I can only enjoy books written by other harried working moms; far from it. But the premise of this book just felt too remote for me to really enjoy it. Even those of us who don’t have kids have jobs, parents, friends, significant others, worship communities; we are connected to other people in significant and profound ways. And we have to figure out who we are in the context of those relationships. Putting it all on hold for nine months is not, for the majority of us, an option. When I’m looking for inspiration, I want to hear how people do it in the midst of the staff meetings and the grocery shopping and the eleventh-hour trips to the post office to mail birthday gifts for your nieces. That’s something I can relate to.
This is why the book didn’t do it for me. It’s my best guess, anyhow. And maybe I was too hasty to give up. Maybe, if I’d kept reading, I’d have found something there that really resonated with me.
So I’d love to hear your thoughts: Did you feel the same way I did? Or is there something about the book that I missed?
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11.16.09
Posted in Adventures in Parenting at 5:46 am by ginny
Today — a vomit-free day, by the way! — Matthew’s godmother joined us at the morning Mass. She came bearing birthday gifts for the boys. Matthew’s gift was a treasury of stories about his favorite TV character, Curious George.
He was, as you might imagine, pretty thrilled with the gift (so was I, to tell the truth. I can’t wait to read through all those stories I remember from childhood: George painting the apartment to look like a jungle, George swallowing a puzzle piece and ending up in the hospital, George eating his way through ropes of spaghetti … classics!).
On the way out, we decided to stop by the Marian grotto. Scott took Lukey to the car while Matthew and I stood in front of the Mary statue. We looked up at her, high in her rocky nook.
“Let’s say ‘Hi’ to Mary,” I told Matthew, holding his hand. With his other hand he was hugging his birthday gift to his chest.
“Hi, Mary,” he said, a lilt of excitement in his voice. He smiled up at her, his face alight. “I got a new book!”
And you know what? My heart hurt with the sweetness of it all.
Part of me hopes he’ll never grow up, never lose this innocence. And part of me is resigned to the fact that it will happen, that someday he’ll be too self-conscious, too busy, too jaded to share a special birthday book with a statue of Mary.
But that day hasn’t come yet. And until it does, I’m just savoring these little moments as they happen. I file them in my memory so I can go back later and relive them, pondering them in my heart … just like Mary did.
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11.14.09
Posted in Articles and columns, Really random at 12:02 am by ginny
1. I left the house this evening to go grocery shopping (pathetic to go to the grocery store at 9:00 PM, isn’t it?) and was immediately greeted by the smell of woodsmoke. And zing! — I was suddenly in the holiday mood. I absolutely adore cold evenings when you can smell a fireplace in the distance. It makes me want to curl up by a Christmas tree and listen to some cozy holiday music. (I won’t, though, until after Thanksgiving. I believe in giving Turkey Day its due.)
2. On the whole, I’m glad this week is over. It’s been Vomitville around here, with both boys apparently having this stomach flu that has been making the rounds. And I don’ t need to explain that Vomitville is not a nice place to visit. You really want to get out of there as fast as you can. Alas, our car has broken down, and we have been stuck in Vomitville City Center for the last five days.
Okay, now that I’ve beaten that metaphor to death … the good news is that Matthew kept his dinner down, which bodes well. And even better news: my mother, who is set to babysit tomorrow so that Scott and I can go on a date (a date! A DATE!) has kindly said that she will watch my boys even if they are sick. This is further proof that, in the great Lottery of Moms, I hit the jackpot.
3. Did you know that next week is the 50th anniversary of The Sound of Music? The show opened on Broadway in November 1959. You can read my homage to Maria and the von Trapps in my new article on BustedHalo.com. (Admit it: you are a fan, too ….)
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11.11.09
Posted in Articles and columns at 10:49 pm by ginny
I love cafés: love, love, LOVE them. Some of my best thinking, writing, reading, and just plain being has happened at small round tables with the hum of espresso machines in the background.
But, like many other things, I’ve had to modify the habit since becoming a mother.
You can read all about this in my latest article Quiet Hours at a Small Table: A Café Junkie Has A Child. It’s on Mamazina, the new online magazine for mothers (formerly Mom Writer’s Literary Magazine). Just click on the “Table of Contents” link, scroll down, and you’ll find my article in the list of Features.
And next time you’re sipping coffee at your local java joint, think of me, won’t you?
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11.10.09
Posted in Thankfulness X 3 at 5:23 am by ginny
Let me start by saying that I feel anything but thankful right now. I feel wiped out, beaten down, and in need of a massage, a week’s vacation, a tub full of Calgon bubbles, and a live-in maid.
Yes, it has been one of those days. The evening really capped it, with virulent diaper rash and a vomiting episode in the highchair. Alas, my backup (otherwise known as my husband) had a late meeting, so I was on my own. That’s normally not a problem, but having to transfer one puke-covered toddler to the bath while trying to keep his older brother out of the mess is, all experts will agree, a job best handled by two.
But they are both in bed now, hopefully sleeping, and I am sitting here thinking that a bit of gratitude is probably just what I need right about now.
So without further ado:
1. I am thankful for my sons. Yes, I know, I shouldn’t have to make a point of saying this. In fact, I am grateful for their presence in my lives on a pretty constant basis. But I’m only human, so there are lapses — like tonight, after the Big Hurl, when I had a moment’s wistful longing for the life I used to have, one that did not involve trying to peel the cover off of the highchair without getting vomit all over my clothing. But, thankfully, that feeling is not the norm. In truth, I have no idea what I did to deserve these two amazing little creatures. I’m phenomenally lucky to be their mommy.
2. I’m thankful that the highchair cover is machine washable. (Very, VERY thankful.)
3. I’m grateful that Wednesday is a holiday. (Huzzah!). Even though a mid-week holiday feels odd, I won’t sneeze at it. And yes, I will be spending a large part of that day plowing through stacks of grading, but you know what? I don’t have to set the alarm that day. That makes it all worth it.
Big sigh. Nice cup of tea. The evening is good again.
Gratitude always helps, doesn’t it?
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