If at first you don't succeed...ignore the instruction manual

Now, I consider myself an intelligent person. I speak three languages. I read up on world news. I may not be good in math (a teeny, tiny understatement), but I can follow instructions and put together a Lego set containing 760 pieces.

But this three shelf bookcase from Target took me almost three hours to put together.



THREE HOURS.

And I was on Step One for half that time.

The problem? A horrible instruction manual (all 15 pages of it) accompanied by very bad illustrations.

But I perservered and put that darn thing together.

And I think it looks very nice in my new office space.

Taken by Surprise

Yesterday I heard two men talking outside the kitchen window, and when I looked out I discovered it was just my husband and my eldest son.

My son?!? That's the deep voice I heard?!

While we've noticed that his voice has indeed been deepening, it still catches us by surprise.

Of course, it also catches my son by surprise. He has no control over a voice that hasn't quite made up its mind what it wants to do, and the pitch changes from minute to minute.

Last night Nicholas answered the phone.

"It's for you," he whispered, as he handed it to Joe. A slight hesitation, then he added furiously: "They thought I was Mom. "

Oh, dear.

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P.S.

Oh, and he's also driving . . .

and this is not his convertible. It belongs to Nana & Papa who were visiting from Virginia Beach and bravely offered to let him drive it around.

In Six Short Years:

from this . . .



to this . . .

to this.

To Save A Thousand Souls

Recently I gave a presentation on the topic of vocations at a Women's Bible Study. I began by telling the story on how I once managed to shock (or rather, horrify) a group of women when I mentioned how thrilled I would be if one of my sons were to become a priest.

The point I wanted to make in telling the women this story was this: when it comes to the priesthood, if not our sons, then whose? If we aren't willing for our sons to discern their vocation, how can we discern our own?

Which is why I am mentioning the book, To Save A Thousand Souls by Fr. Brett A. Brannen, Vice-Rector of Mount St. Mary's in Emmitsburg, Maryland. It's a wonderful book for men discerning a vocation to the priesthood, and it provides a comprehensive guide on the entire process from recognizing the signs of a vocation to the final chapter about ordination day.

Amazingly, though, the book is for all of us. As I read it, I recalled the words of John Paul II who said we are all called to serve God in different ways, whether its through the vocation of marriage, or as a dedicated single person, or through a religious life. What is important is that all these are vocations, each one serving God in its own, unique way.

To Save A Thousand Souls guides men through the discernment process, but the lessons and insights can be for anyone. It's a book about answering the call to vocation . . . and how holiness is the first and foremost vocation for each and every one of us.

The Reason I Majored in English

When my son comes home from school needing help with this . . .

A cylinder with height 2x is inscribed in a sphere with radius 10.

a) Show that the volume of the cylinder, V, is 2πx(100 – x2).
b) By using calculus, one can show that V is maximum when x = 10√3 divided by 3. Substitute this value for x to find the maximum volume V. max. V = 4000π√3 divided by 9.
c) Use a calculator or computer to evaluate V= 2πx(100-x2) for various values of x between 0 and 10. Show that the maximum volume V occurs when x ≈ 5.77.

…boy am I glad I married my husband.

And what’s really sad is that I couldn’t even type the problem and had to get my son to do it for me…I mean, when was the last time you typed a square root, an exponent, or the symbol for pi? Hmmm?

Whoa. Just call me Rocky.

About two hours after our return from Vegas, our five-year-old was so excited to see us he was jumping on the couch. Up and down. Up and down. He lost his balance . . . CRACK! . . . and his cute, but very hard head, slams into my eye. I now have a bona fide black eye.

I am sporting a Rocky Balboa shiner with a rainbow of purple, blue and yellow completely encircling my eye.

And the timing stinks. Of course, I haven't seen anyone since before leaving for Vegas, and so now when I explain how I got my shiner, I invariably get that all-knowing look and a "hmmm-hmmm."

Like, what do they think? I had too much of a good thing in Vegas and tripped on a curb right there on the strip? Sheesh.

My Thoughts on Flying

I am not a fan of flying, so when my husband thought it would be a great idea for me to accompany him on his business trip to Las Vegas, I was tempted to make excuses. But over the years I have learned to deal with this fear...sorta.

To begin with, I simply pretend I am fearless. As I walk through the airport in my trusty danskos, wearing my dark jeans (not these jeans since I do need to sit) and pulling my cute, red laptop tote on wheels, I almost convince myself that I am not anxious.

Which actually works, right up until the moment they announce our flight.

Once we are in the air, to stop myself from analyzing engine noises (like I am such an expert on what an engine should sound like), I stuff ear phones into my ears and listen to the airline music playlist.

This time I find some Broadway tunes...okay, then. I decide on Wicked, and select one of my favorite songs from that musical: Defying Gravity. Thirty seconds later I am mentally yelling at myself: What the heck? Defying Gravity? That's the song you want to listen to while flying in a tin can???

I move on to reading, but the novel I brought requires more concentration than I can summon and, besides, it's hard to read and analyze engine noises at the same time. When I reach into the seat pocket in front of me searching for lighter reading material, I accidentally pull out the laminated pamphlet diagramming emergency exits. I stuff everything back into the pocket.

The television monitor does help a little, and I measure time by watching Friends...one episode, and I mentally mark off thirty minutes. Two episodes...an entire hour has gone by!

Things are going just fine until two things happen: the seat belt sign comes on, and the pilot announces that we are going through some rough air (i.e. turbulence).

Now I don't -- can't -- listen to music, read, or watch television because I am too busy praying. I scrutinize the airline attendant's face to see if she looks worried...but she seem pretty calm, so I figure things are okay. I remember to breathe.

Eventually the four hours pass, and when we land I feel exalted. I go on to have three wonderful days with my husband...three days of dining in fine restaurants, walking in the evenings, talking about anything and everything, listening to Singin' in the Rain playing at the Bellagio fountains, seeing Jersey Boys, and eating pistachio and hazelnut gelato at the Venetian.

No, I may not like to fly, but I will do it. You see, when I weigh wonderful life moments against fear, I'll take the wonderful life moments every single time.

The Bellagio Fountains

The Venetian