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Archive for October, 2010

It’s been a busy week. I’m exhausted, and thinking about the ridiculous things I do to myself when I really need sleep. Not that it’s not fun at the time…

~1~

Monday night was a night of laziness. I stayed up far too late watching some show about hoarders and learning about The Rent is Too Damn High party. It resulted in one of those really uncomfortable feeling evenings when you’re hot and sweaty and don’t really know why, so bed sounds gross, so you stay up later and feel nastier. By the time you collapse into bed you have no respect for yourself, because you wasted HOURS in front of the tv when you could have read, or chatted intelligently, or, you know, done the dishes.  Needless to say, I resolved to get up early and go to bed early.

~2~

Tuesday night we had delightful company. We ate and drank and were merry, and didn’t go to bed until late. Very late.  Needless to say, I resolved to get up early and go to bed early.

~3~

Wednesday night. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Will was not feeling well, so he collapsed fairly early.  It’s all a blur.  Our charming daughter fought sleep tooth and nail. It was a hectic evening. I tried to read and be a good girl, but I ended up going to bed too late. Again. Needless to say…

~4~

I overslept. Again. I crawled out of bed, took my daughter in my arms and sat down on the couch with a lame cartoon. I fell asleep. I am the world’s worst mother. I later napped while Philomena napped. Needless to say, I stayed up too late.

~5~

Thursday was busy, but it went pretty smoothly. Housework got done, I went to Adoration for an hour, and then I went out for a much needed girl’s night at a friend’s house. There were pina coladas and other tasty rum drinks. There was dip. The conversation flowed. I didn’t get home until late. Quite, quite late. Needless to say…

~6~

This morning my charming husband was up and at’em at 5:30. He was on his way to a poverty law class in Macon, three hours away.  I gave up. I was too darn tired to feel guilty about snatching a quick snooze before breakfast, so I scoopsed up the daughter, plopped her down in front of Maisy Mouse and cuddled up with her, and dozed. I then made a fabulous breakfast to assuage my guilt, cleaned like a thing posessed, made soup and played with the baby.  And now, here I am typing away at a not-very-good post. And do I care? No. Because…

~7~

I am going to bed early.

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Pro-Life Thursday

Do you see this? This is a picture of a ten week old  baby taken by an Indian med student named Dr. Suparna Sinha. Please check out the article at Catholic Fire and the article by Jen Rego at Live Action.

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Of Fairies and Fezes

We’re in the midst of Halloween preparations here at Chez Cubbedge.  We like Halloween. The way I see it, as long as you’re not celebrating Samhain, or Satan, or dressing up like slutty vampires/ladybugs/nurses/school girls, it’s just a chance for some fun. And, if you’re Catholic, you can do nifty stuff like All Saint’s vigils, if you live in a town where there are actual Catholics. Here in the Deep South, we don’t have the vigil, so we’re going the sugar-overload-followed- by-regret -costume- route. That is why we are now expending far too much energy morphing into an adorable woodland fairy. 

Young Philomena, being two and disliking anything uncomfortable, has rejected her planned cowgirl costume. She hates the hat, hates the boots, and can’t understand why Mama tried to put both on her at the same time. The nerve! As a result we will be a fairy princess. 

We’ve got a pretty pink dress we’re planning on using, with a puffy blouse underneath and wings and a crown of flowers. I hope this year works. We’ve had bad luck with our Halloween costumes. Last year we were a poodle. It was a really swanky “real” costume from a store. It was hot and uncomfortable, and poor Philomena spent most of Halloween in tears, sweating. Will wore his fez last year, and this year he’ll do the same. I’m going to strap on a pair of wings and be a housewifey version of Queen Mab. Because we’re dorks.  And we like it that way.

We don’t have a jack o’lantern this year. Last year we had one for each of us, but in our current neighborhood (da hood), it would be smashed or stolen in a matter of seconds. Kind of a shame, but I’m going to bring the fall in to our 80 degree house in the form of pumpkin bread. That, plus our special non-traditional plans, should make for a happy Halloween. In the morning we’re going to the costume pet parade. In the evening we’re going to the Oatland Island Wildlife Center for a not scary forest walk with nursery rhyme characters, story time with a real Mother Goose, and a hay ride and treats. I’m as excited as Philomena, who has been talking about Mother Goose since breakfast.

Sugar, here we come!

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There is an absolutely wonderful article about discovering the Eucharist as a protestant over at Faith and Family. Like Flannery O’Connor said  (and as is mentioned in the piece) “If it’s a symbol, to Hell with it.”

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Free to Be Me

It’s a tough being a woman. We compare ourselves to images in magazines, or to the perfect career women, or scholar women, or mothers, or couples. We can get so caught up in keeping up with the Joneses that we forget who we truly are. 

 I’ve always compared myself to other people. Being a smart little cookie helped. In kindergarten I was already reading,  so I milked the smart kid thing.  In highschool I kept it up. I did my own thing, but always thinking about what the “cool” kids thought. I differentiated myself by selfconsciously being a good girl, a smart girl. When we ended up Catholic I lost friends and discovered that just being a good girl or a smart girl wasn’t enough to keep you from getting hurt by the bullies of the world.  You had to conform to some overarching stereotype to be safe. If you were a nerd, you’d still get picked on, but in a socially acceptable way. It wasn’t quite as damning as, say, poverty or religion.

This habit continued into college. It didn’t occur to me that all the posturing and wedging myself into a scene, no matter how contrary to my actual likes and dislikes, was a symptom of fear. I was running from the only One who offered the freedom to be myself, a woman made to love Him. Like Francis Thompson said in The Hound of Heaven, “…though I knew His love who followed,/Yet was I sore adread, lest having Him,/I should have nought beside.”

Time marches on. I gave in to fear for  a long time. I realize now that I have, in my own small way, done exactly what the Devil wants women to do: deny who they actually are. Whether this is through the rejection, conscious or otherwise, of their feminine biology, or through the more personal, subtle attacks on individuality that come through the media, or through so-called friends, he loves to make women doubt themselves, and ultimately, doubt the wisdom of their Creator. He plays on our fear that we’re never good enough. This is what happened to Eve.  

“Oh, you need to be better than you are,” the Devil said to her.  “You need to do this. It’ll give you power. You can’t be content just being you. Why would you want to be you? This will fix it.”

Just that little lie was enough to do it. The Devil really, really hates women.  Through women other human beings come into the world, and that is an insult. I think C.S. Lewis hit the nail on the head in The Screwtape Letters, when Screwtape, in explaining to young Wormwood why the devils hate men so much exclaims “They’re vulgar!”  I guess we are. Being a mix of earthy dross and spirit, we’re not quite what some of the angels were looking for in their neighbors. Oh well. Can’t please everyone. It must hurt even more since the Incarnation. God Almighty became a tiny dividing cell in the womb of a girl. She, in being just fine with who she was, singlehandedly crushed all the Enemy’s plans.

In rejecting my real likes and dislikes, or in dressing to fit in to a particular subculture, or even in writing for a market out of fear of failure, I’ve been unfaithful to the gifts God has given me. He made me the way I am. He made me so that I would like cheesy movies and fairy tales, sometimes combining the two for an extra special Lydia treat. He made me so that I can sing both chant and praise and worship music  with real enjoyment. He made me to love furry animals and want to overcome my irrational fear of jungle drums.

 The Fathers of the Second Vatican Council had some encouraging things to say about the nature of womanhood. The world depends on us to be fully ourselves in all our feminine glory.  If we are, we’ll set the world on fire.

“The hour is coming, in fact has come, when the vocation of women is being acknowledged in its fullness, the hour in which women acquire in the world an influence, an effect and a power never hitherto achieved. That is why, at this moment when the human race is undergoing so deep a transformation, women imbued with a spirit of the Gospel can do so much to aid humanity in not falling.” – From the Closing Message of the Second Vatican Council.

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7 Quick Takes

A lot has been going on around here! If you, like me, can’t get enough of tales of household horror, please enjoy.

~1 ~

We have a little friend who lives in our sink. He likes to gurgle and moan whenever the tenants upstairs flush the toilet or shower. It’s not the normal pipe gurgling of old houses. This is the mean, monster in your plumbing type of noise pollution.This friend has woken our darling child up from her nap, rendering her not so darling. We call him Herman.

~2~

Sometimes a smell of sewage permeates our Gracious Southern Home.  It’s nasty, and injurious to health, I’m sure. Upon investigation, we discovered that the source of the smell emanates fromwithin the deep recesses of the closet in our darling daughter’s nursery. You see, there is a toilet in that closet. Yes. A toilet. It’s ancient of days and doesn’t work, but I have a horrible feeling that things might be bubbling up through it.

~3~

Of course, by things I mean poop.

~4~

Have I ever mentioned that I have to  go outside to do laundry?  I have a little shed in the backyard that houses a washer and dryer. Sometimes it houses six inch long slugs who wave a friendly antenna at me. It’s nice.

~5~

Speaking of happy creatures, I got to see a cute little gecko-looking lizard two days ago. I was sitting on my back stoop, soaking up the sunshine when I head a little rustle. Beside me was the sweetest little lizard! Really, I love these guys. Savannah is full of them, and some of them come right up to you. Happiness.

~6~

Have you ever had the feeling you were missing out on a really obvious joke? Last week some gentlemen came by to cut back the overhanging brances from above the house. I watched from the living room window as they pointed and laughed at various features on the exterior of my Gracious Southern Home. I never found out why they were laughing. I’m not sure I want to know.

~7~

The best thing, hands down, about living in an “up-and-coming” neighborhood is the colorful nightlife. Thirsty Thursday brings the finest purveyors of malt liquor right to your sidewalk. The yells, the shrieking children, the distant sound of a shot fired. Pure magic.

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I’m out of luck with blogging today. Sorry, folks. I could write about some pro-life issue, but it’s a quiet day, and I overslept and couldn’t both wash my hair AND go pray at the clinic. To assuage my guilt, go to the 40 Days for Life blog and be amazed at how well the campaign is going internationally.

In the meantime, let me tell you, it’s not a good idea to eat peperoncini while fiddling around on the computer. I just spent some time cleaning out splurtzed juice and teeny tiny seeds from in between the keys. Laptop is now imbued with the spirit of Tuscany.

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