Sometimes, Too Much is Too Much

I like sports, truly I do,
but sometimes I'd like
to bid them adieu.

A season? Ha! Doesn't exist;
It's year-round, I say.
Summer, spring, winter or fall
Really, they won't go away.

There's football then basketball,
both college and pro.
Then there's golf and there's baseball...
Toooo much to follow!

I like sports, truly I do
but sometimes I'd like
to bid them adieu.

Happy Easter! (every day)

Easter is not just one day. It doesn't end once Mass is over, or the last jelly bean is eaten, or the new outfits are put away.

No, Easter is a season. After going though forty days of preparation during Lent, we now have FIFTY days -- from Easter Sunday until Pentecost -- to celebrate and rejoice.

Recently, an article in The Word Among Us listed fifty ways we, as families, can celebrate the Easter Season. They have some wonderful ideas. I went through the list and borrowed some, modified others, and added a few of my own.

Celebrating Easter as a Family

-At mealtime, say an "alleluia" after grace.

-Light a special candle every evening as a reminder of the light of Christ.

-Fly a kite to celebrate the wind of the Holy Spirit.

-Have everyone select a fruit of the Holy Spirit (Galations 5:22-23) to cultivate.

-Take a short trip to a shrine, monastery, or church.

-Plant some seeds.

-Make a point to smile more often . . . spread the joy.

-Read Acts 2 (the descent of the Holy Spirit) in English, Italian and Spanish.

-Talk about the road to Emmaus. Go for a family walk along the canal.

-Plan a meal for Pentecost Sunday. Visit Catholic Cuisine for some ideas (Twelve Fruit Salad for the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit; Red Velvet Cake representing the fire of the Holy Spirit; Pasta Alfredo for a "white" meal since Pentecost is also known as "Whitsunday").

-Discuss Christ's call to be "fishers of men" . . . plan a fishing day with Nonno.

Happy Easter!

~photo taken at Arlington National Cemetery

Does it make me a bad person when...

I am happy Phil Mickelson won the Masters, but EVEN MORE ECSTATIC that Tiger didn't?

A week and a day . . .

This has been a busy month, and the thought of planning our annual St. Joseph Feast Day celebration was beginning to worry me.

Until St. Joseph chose me for the task.

Really.

Earlier this month a woman in my Bible Study encouraged us to spend a year with a saint. The idea was to pull a saint's name out of a basket, and then read, study, and allow that saint to work in your life.

The underlying concept behind this project is this: although you physically draw the saint's name, the saint actually chooses you.

We took turns (all fifty of us). St. Catherine, St. Anne, St. Paul, St. Benedict, St. Mark . . . they all chose someone.

And St. Joseph chose me.

He chose me, and that was all the confirmation I needed.

So this past Saturday, exactly a week and a day after his official Feast Day, we held our annual celebration in honor of St. Joseph.

The guests: sixteen adults, eleven children (10 boys and 1 girl . . . I just have to point that out), one infant, and three priests.

The food: peperonata, stuffed shells, grilled Italian sausage, cannellini beans w/ tomatoes, polenta & mushrooms, assorted cheeses, tortellini salad, homemade hummus, cream puffs, Italian cookies, and wine, wine, wine.

The traditions: a three-tiered St. Joseph altar, the lucky fava bean, the children reading the history behind this Italian feast day, the Viva S. Giuseppe toasts, and the sprinkling of breadcrumbs symbolizing the sawdust of St. Joseph, the carpenter.

The Music: traditional Italian.

The entertainment: a retired priest who performs magic tricks.

The party favors: St. Joseph prayer cards displayed in a basket of beans.

It was a wonderful celebration, and I take credit for none of it. You see, that St. Joseph ... he's some party planner, and he simply chose me to host it.

The Silence of Saint Joseph
The silence of Saint Joseph is given a special emphasis. His silence is steeped in contemplation of the mystery of God in an attitude of total availability to divine desires. It is a silence thanks to which Joseph, in unison with Mary, watches over the Word of God, known through the Sacred Scriptures, continuously comparing it with the events of the life of Jesus; a silence woven of constant prayer, a prayer of blessing of the Lord, of the adoration of His holy will and of unreserved entrustment to his providence. It is no exaggeration to think that it was precisely from his "father" Joseph that Jesus learned -- at the human level -- that steadfast interiority which is a presupposition of authentic justice.... Let us allow ourselves to be "filled" with Saint Joseph's silence! In a world that is often too noisy, that encourages neither recollection nor listening to God's voice.
~Pope Benedict XVI
Angelus, December 18, 2005

Something I Learned the Hard Way:

When on a bike ride,

it is advisable to keep your mouth closed.

BLECK, ICK, PATOOEY.

cough, spit, spit, cough, cough

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.