01.31.10
Posted in Adventures in Parenting at 1:27 am by ginny
I told Scott this anecdote just the other day:
One afternoon last week, sixteen-month-old Lukey was toddling around the living room picking up toys. He came across the baby Jesus figure from the Little People Nativity Set and promptly stuck it into his mouth.
“Come on, Lukey,” I admonished him, in mild exasperation. “We don’t do that. We don’t eat Jesus.”
And then as I recounted this episode for Scott, I thought: Well, actually ….
Detail of The Last Supper by DaVinci
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01.30.10
Posted in Musings at 12:39 am by ginny
Most nights, there’s absolutely nothing to watch on TV. That’s why it’s so unprecedented that this coming Sunday, there are two fabulous options showing at the same time (darn it all!).
One is the second installment of Masterpiece Theatre’s Emma, which, as expected, is an absolute treat of a film. The second is a Hallmark Hall of Fame Movie (yes, really) called The Magic of Ordinary Days.
I saw this film when it aired for the first time a few years ago. It takes place during WWII; Keri Russell plays a young college student who becomes pregnant by a soldier fighting overseas. Her cartoonishly-strict dad tries to cover up the disgrace by finding a guy for her to marry, and quickly. This is how she ends up becoming the wife of a young farmer she doesn’t know and living in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. In its bare outlines, the plot sounds like some cheesy romance novel (and yes, there are moments in the movie that strain belief), but as a whole it’s a movie that is very worth watching … mostly because, in a pretty profound way, it reflects Mary’s story.
At its core, The Magic of Ordinary Days looks at the curveballs of life — the events that can suddenly set us careening down a different road in life, heading far away from our original destination. The unexpected pregnancy, the job loss, the sick family member who requires constant care, the cross-country move — all of these things happen. What I like about the film is that it shows, in a sweet and uplifting way, that there’s a grace that can come from these seismic shifts in our original plans.
And nobody knew this better than Mary (and, of course, Joseph). I’m sure they expected to have a pretty normal family life — until that angel came along and told Mary that she had been chosen to be the Mother of God. An ordinary life pretty much goes out the window after that. I often wonder if there were moments when they had little twinges of mourning for that life they’d always envisioned. I suppose they’d hardly be human if they didn’t. In the end, though, they found the grace that comes with embracing the massive change in their plans. For someone like me — who likes to know in advance what’s coming up, who always has to mentally prep for the week ahead, who doesn’t really dig surprises — that’s a message well worth remembering.
Hmm. I guess it’s time to set our antiquated VCR again.
UPDATE: Aww, man: I got the date wrong. The movie was on Saturday. Sigh. This is what happens when I blog late at night. It’s still worth watching, though, and available on DVD …
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01.26.10
Posted in Articles and columns at 10:23 pm by ginny
I wish I had a great singing voice. I really wish I did. Unfortunately, the good fairy who was doling out talents at birth must have forgotten to give me that one. (She also forgot to give me any gift having to do with athletics, numbers, or spatial relations.) C’est la vie.
But I still sing during Mass, flat voice and all. Read my latest column to find out why.
Young Girls at the Piano by Renoir
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01.24.10
Posted in Images of Mary, Question Box at 12:08 am by ginny
Beautiful, isn’t it? I just love this picture.
(Oh, and if you’ve ever wondered where the term “Madonna” comes from, there’s a brief explanation here.)
Image from Holy Cards For Your Inspiration
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01.21.10
Posted in Yes, Jane Austen deserves her own category at 10:44 pm by ginny
This Sunday — oh, I’m so happy! — Masterpiece Theatre will be broadcasting the first episode of Emma, the latest adaptation of Jane Austen’s fabulously fabulous book. It starts Romola Garai (who was so good in Daniel Deronda) as the title character, and judging from the previews, it looks delightful. I suspect it will be a keeper.
So I will get my husband to set the VCR, because after ten years with this machine I still don’t know how to do it myself (I know that the world at large has moved on to better things like Tivo, but we are afraid to get it because we fear our TV watching will increase exponentially. Okay, I’m afraid that our TV watching will increase exponentially.) And you know, I think our trusty little VCR gets really happy when he/she gets to record a Jane Austen adaptation. Okay maybe I’m projecting a bit. But there is something about Jane that never gets old. Maybe we are just all starved for courtship, romance, politeness, civility, and men in waistcoats.
Happy viewing!
Illustration of Emma by C.E. Brock. Courtesy of Solitary Elegance.
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01.19.10
Posted in Adventures in Parenting at 4:06 pm by ginny
We’re still in the throes of a violent stomach flu around here. I thought nothing could get worse than cleaning vomit up off of the floor — you know, the Jello-tinged Jackson Pollock vomit that requires you to wipe down all the baseboards in a three-foot radius of the splatter site? If you’re a mom, you know what I mean.
But this morning, I found that there is something worse: cleaning diarrhea off of the floor. My narrative will stop there because the goal of this blog is to gain and keep readers, not drive them away. Let’s just say that it made the treacherous morning commute through water-logged freeways seem like a treat. Hydroplaning? Driving 15mph in a 65 zone? Woo hoo! Good times! But in spite of the weather, I did get to school in plenty of time to give my D period final, so all is well. I now have thirty-one in-class essays to grade, which, of course, is why I am sitting here blogging.
But let’s look on the bright side. I didn’t have to do the morning cleanup effort alone, because my husband, who was pretty ill himself yesterday, was feeling better this morning and able to wield the Swiffer and the antibacterial wipes while I gave Lukey yet another bath. And the rain, which has been pretty constant lately, let up as I was leaving school after my last final. There was blue sky, and sun and yes, a rainbow off in the distance. It was amazingly lovely. As soon as I got home I took Matthew out for a trike ride, and he was like a little mole climbing out into the sunlight after two days stuck inside. He drove along happily, on his little red trike with the streamers on the handlebars, pedaling madly down the street. It was an adorable sight. It made up for a lot of today’s yuckiness.
That’s the secret, I’m finding: hanging onto those little slivers of grace that appear even in the middle of the yucks, like that rainbow appearing in the clouds. That’s how we moms weather the storms.
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01.18.10
Posted in Feast Days and other fun times at 1:50 am by ginny
As a kid, I loved a picture book called People, by Peter Speier. It was a celebration of all of the different people of the world, and I particularly remember the last two illustrations.
The second-to-last page asked something like, “Wouldn’t the world be boring if we were all the same?” It showed a picture of a city street: all the buildings looked exactly alike, all the people looked and dressed exactly alike, and all the cars were identical. It looked utilitarian and drab and absolutely terrifying in its sameness.
Then the last page — again, I’m paraphrasing from memory — said, “Isn’t it wonderful that we are all different?” And it showed a city street, with all sorts of people of different races dressed in various ways and doing all kinds of different things, and it was fabulous: vivid and colorful and utterly fascinating.
On a day like today, when we honor the late Martin Luther King, Jr., I like remembering that book. It was one of my first lessons in the beauty of diversity (not that the nine-year-old me would have used that word). And yet every lesson in diversity is worthless if it doesn’t acknowledge the common humanity that we all share.
Dr. King challenged us not to ossify into our own little circles of people who look exactly like us. He had faith that human nature could be better than that, that we could learn to recognize our shared humanity. It was a remarkable kind of faith, actually, now that I think about it. And we are all the better because he kept on believing.
Image from Holy Cards For Your Inspiration
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01.16.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:40 pm by ginny
Number of student journals graded today: 10
Number of journals graded in last three days: 34
Number of journals left to grade before Tuesday: 18
Approximate amount of time it takes to grade each one: 15 minutes if no interruptions (ha, ha).
Total amount of time spent grading journals the last few days: Not going there.
Number of final book projects left to grade before Tuesday: 35.
Number of times in the last four days that I’ve cursed the fact that I am an English teacher and wished to be a P.E. teacher, even though I don’t know a quarterback from a wide receiver: Really not going there.
Number of snarky but totally accurate comments made by husband when I said I should have become a P.E. teacher: 1 (but it was a whopper)
Number of times younger son has thrown up since 7:45 this morning: 4 (or maybe 3.5; not sure if the last one was a spitup or a throwup. That is a fine judgment call.)
Number of baths younger son has had today: 3. So far.
Number of days this stomach flu lasts, according to doctor: 1-3. Can be more if you include diarrhea.
Number of times I have been thankful for presence of husband today, snarky comment and all: Too many to count.
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01.14.10
Posted in Musings at 10:40 pm by ginny
I’m no stranger to earthquakes, but I am utterly helpless to imagine the experiences of the people of Haiti right now. I’ve never experienced that level of total destruction, devastation, chaos, and loss. It sounds trite to say this, but it puts my recent complaints about stress and mess into stark perspective. Yes, I have to slog my way through end-of-semester grading piles, but I am not wading my way through the rubble that used to be my home. Sure, I get frustrated at having to walk around the toys on the floor and the peas that Lukey has thrown from his highchair, but I am not having to skirt dead bodies piled in the streets. My children are safe and healthy, not dead. It breaks my heart to think of the pain that so many parents are going through at this very moment.
All I can do is send money and pray and pray and pray and pray … and then pray some more.
So that’s what I’ll do.
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01.12.10
Posted in Musings at 9:59 pm by ginny
We spent Christmas visiting family in Boulder, which is a fabulous place to be at pretty much any time of year. I have to say, though, that I’m partial to the wintertime, because it actually snows there. I’m a California native, so there’s a primal sort of thrill that I get when white stuff falls from the sky. The day after we arrived, it started to snow, and it kept going for nearly a day … and yes, indeed, we had a lovely white Christmas.
Some of the family members even made a snowman, which was very festive. The yellow scarf, incidentally, is courtesy of the neighbor’s dog.
But enough about the snow. I saw some gorgeous images of Mary in Boulder, especially at church on Christmas morning. The pictures below are all from Sacred Heart Parish on Mapleton Avenue (any Boulder readers out there?). First of all, they had a beautiful creche:
I love the dove right above the Holy Family:
On the altar, they had this fabulous Mary and Joseph, clearly on the road to Bethlehem:
They also have a stunning stained glass window. The photograph isn’t bad, but it looked a hundred times lovelier on Christmas morning, with the light of a snowy day behind it:
It’s crazy that Christmas feels like such a distant memory already. Was it really only three weeks ago? Something about January feels so sterile and blah, somehow. I don’t know about you, but I sort of wish I could crawl back inside Christmas for a little while. A few more fa-la-la-la-las, a handful of Christmas cookies, a candy cane or two, and a lot more reflecting on the Incarnation … that sounds just about right.
Of course, I can do the reflection part any time of year. In fact, I pretty much marvel at the Incarnation every time I think of Mary.
Maybe that’s why I think of her so often.
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