Thursday, May 28, 2009

The Princess

Fashion Police:

LP: "Dat shirt, Megan!"

Me: "What about the shirt?"

LP: "Dat shirt purple!"

Apparently she does not approve of me being out of uniform.

A brief respite from cynical adulthood:

Kitty was watching LP. They were tickling each other. It is their common bond. I came to relieve Kitty and instead got pulled into the tickle-fest.

Joy. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be purely, un-self-consciously joyful.

Kid, you are just too stinkin' cute:

Mom has been sick for the past few days, but was well enough this evening to go out with Dad. (Because it's May 28.) So I gave the Princess her bath after dinner.

After being scrubbed (we had pizza for dinner), Princess decided to do what the childhood development experts call "imaginative play" (and I call "the cute, it will kill me!"). The washcloth was a "bank" ("blanket," for the uninitiated) and the little plastic walrus was a baby. The baby was wrapped up in the blanket and rocked. Then, or so I was told, the baby began to cry. Princess decided that the little walrus' tears were from exhaustion and put him to bed in her plastic toy boat. She then admonished him to "Close eyes." He apparently did, and she kissed him goodnight.

Bonus Quote of the Day:

"I kiss shish!"

Wednesday, May 27, 2009


So, dear readers. I haven't been trying to be scarce lately. Our internet had been slowly dying since Saturday. It gasped its last yesterday afternoon. Dad brought home a new modem and installed it on his lunch break today. Yay for geek daddies. :)

Anyway. I am popping up to announce something I've been toying with for--oh, seven months? Since the Cobbler went on his two-month Facebook strike and I went through a brief phase of exploring other media. One of the new things was a Twitter account. After he got back on Facebook I took a five-month hiatus, but lately I have been slowly climbing on the Twitter bandwagon.

So, once I finish this post (provided the torrential downpour occuring outside my window doesn't knock out our shiny new internet connection) I will put a Twitter widget on my sidebar and you can keep up with me that way. I'm trying to make it semi-profound; no "I am going to eat lunch now!" kind of things. But it saves the blog itself from getting cluttered with two-sentence posts. Hopefully I'll have profound thoughts during the summer, when I'm not taking 2 theology classes and a Great Books seminar. Some of my tweets (that's what they're called, apparently) are post ideas; as I get more writing time I hope to go back and flesh out a bunch of them. Between Twitter and said posts, I hopefully will not disappear off the face of the blogosphere for weeks at a time again.

New Favorite Word

The Princess has referred to something as "shunny" about 50 times in the last 24 hours.

Figuring out what she means is helped if you remember that she sometimes pronounces "f" as "sh". (But not always, she can make the f sound.)

Hearing her chirp, "Shunny, shunny, shunny!" makes me happy.

Monday, May 25, 2009


So, the fam and I went up to Michigan for the weekend to visit the Michigan Relations. (Mom's dad, two brothers, sister-in-law, and two nieces--my grandpa, uncles, aunt, and cousins.) Did you notice I was gone? I doubt it; I've been rather skurse in the blogging arena lately.

We got back around 6 pm today, all dead tired. Around 8 I came downstairs to find LP curled up on the living room floor (in her most favoritest Pooh blanket, that I made for her my very own self because I am an awesome big sister), staring glassy-eyed at 101 Dalmations.

As the movie ended, Mom came over and mentioned something about giving her a bath. LP mumbled something in reply.

Mom: "I don't know what she said."

LP: "Chocolate...milk..."

Me: " 'Chocolate milk.' "

Mom: "Do you want to take a bath?"

LP: "No bath."

So Mom got her some milk and carried her off to bed.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Summer Reading Challenge, 2009

Last August I posted a Summer Reading Challenge for myself. I ended up reading 6 of the 9 books, which leaves the following:

Brideshead Revisted, Evelyn Waugh
The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The Art of Love, Ovid

I've the vague idea that someone gave me The Idiot for Christmas, but if a quick search of my (currently extremely messy) room doesn't turn it up, I'll reserve all three at the library.

I've also decided that I'm going to read the Harry Potter series this summer. I like understanding my boyfriend when he talks. However, if I find the first book insufferable, I will give up that part of my summer reading challenge without compuctions.

I don't expect ten books to take me the whole summer, so I'll update in a month or two with progress and any other books I decide to read.

Friday randomness

My mom has been married to my dad for well over half her life. (Okay, not dramatically so, but she's been in the "married half my life" camp for more than 3 years now.) Earlier today we were wondering how long it'll be till Dad reaches the halfway mark. (He's almost 4 years older, the cradle-robber. :))

So, of course, being the weirdly geeky people that we are, we sat down and calculated that my dad's married life will equal his single life on January 30, 2010. This bit of random information has been noted for posterity.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Life, Death, and Cake

Dear readers,

You know it's been a long time when you start typing your blog address and auto-fill doesn't finish it for you. Part of me is sorry to you happy few who actually keep up with this blog; you've probably turned into a sad few in the 4 weeks since I last posted. (In fact, between writing a draft of this post and posting it, my dear boyfriend commented that I should post again.)

But the rest of me is okay with the break, because I needed it. Sometimes there simply are no words. And sometimes the story is best told through another story, which I'll do now.

About a week before I graduated high school (so, almost exactly 2 years ago) our very dear and very elderly next-door neighbor passed away. She was a lifelong member of our church, a widow with several sons and one daughter (if memory serves), and of course quite a few more distant descendants. She was related to our permanent deacon (his aunt, I believe) and he used to come visit her, riding on his motorcycle. It was always funny seeing him in street clothes. (It was also funny seeing a 60-something deacon on a motorcycle.)

In the days following, her sons hung out in the house next door, having what my mother called an "Irish wake." (Irish wakes involve beer and cigarettes, apparently.) They were very nice fellows and we got on speaking terms with a few of them. After all, they were always out on the porch and my mother is a friendly woman. The day before my graduation ceremony, one or two of them came over with baked goods and absolutely insisted that we take some--they were being inundated with treats and couldn't possibly eat all of them.

After the appropriate protests, we accepted the cakes and, being resourceful (and not really wanting to eat 2 or 3 cakes ourselves) we took them to the graduation and they were happily eaten by various members of our homeschool group at the ensuing party.

The image struck me and has stayed with me ever since. Death and life, an end and a beginning, linked together by a couple of cakes.

That's where I am right now, walking between death and life. That's where we all are, I think. The Cobbler commented to me earlier today that people tell you to prepare for happy times and sad times, but they never tell you to prepare for the saddest and happiest times occuring together.

I don't know how much I'll be posting; perhaps my writing will come back to me. Perhaps I will spend another month sitting and watching and praying. If anybody but the Cobbler even reads this, I ask you for prayers for a number of friends and family members who are going through sad times right now. I ask for prayers for myself and the Cobbler, not because we are in a bad place right now, but because we are in a good place. Life isn't unmitigated sunshine and roses, but we are actually doing okay; better than okay. It amazes me and it frightens me a little. Life is a very big thing. Bigger than I ever anticipated it being when I stood up and made a speech about life two years ago. So, pray for us, that we know where to go from here and how to get there, and that we hold to God no matter what kind of time we're going through.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Unconditional Love

After 3 days of having the Princess yell "Megan! Meeegaaan!" whenever I leave her sight:

"Why does she like me so much? I didn't even do anything. I went off to college; she should be mad at me."

That sounds like something I would do

I don’t know about you, but I enjoy watching paint dry. I imagine that the wet paint is a big freshwater lake that is the only source of water for some tiny cities by the lake. As the lake gets drier, the population gets more desperate, and sometimes there are water riots. Once there was a big fire and everyone died.

From Coffee Klatch, via Happy Catholic

Thursday, May 7, 2009


Let's see... I last posted on Friday. So many things I could post about that happened since then.

I spent Saturday morning studying, then took a nap, then went to the optional Lord's Day, then went to the last FoP of the semester. It was even a Eucharistic FoP, but I was in a place spiritually where there were no nice feelings. I'm still glad I went but I have no deep spiritual insights to impart.

Sunday I went to early Mass and then studied like a madwoman all day. Why is it, I wonder, that I study best on Sundays? It seems kind of backward, with the whole day-of-rest thing.

Monday I had three finals. That took up the whole day. (I went to Mass at 4:45, though.) Then the whole evening was taken up by having long serious conversations with Scott.

Tuesday I basically slept all day. Then I went to afternoon Mass again. Then I watched an old episode of NCIS (I have some serious catching up to do before next Tuesday; the one I watched was not the one that aired that day but rather one from January 6.) while I waited for Scott to get back from going to Mass with his family. Then we had more long serious conversations.

Wednesday I went to the early-morning Mass and then packed. Mom showed up around 1:00. We teased each other mercilessly (mother-daughter luv right there) while packing and loading. Then Morgan and I cleaned our room very thoroughly.

The three of us chatted a bit on the way home. At one point I was talking about how Scott is looking at degree programs at Local State School, and Mom says, "When I was going to Local State School..." She actually had a lot of interesting information to offer, but afterwards I said, "You know, Mom, it's kind of creepy that you've been to every school in the area." (She also went to a more northern branch of Local Community College, which Scott is currently attending.)

We got home, LP went crazy, Kitty tackled me, etc. Emily's dad came to pick up Morgan. (Don't ask. It's easier if you just pretend the three of us are all cousins or something; that's basically what we act like.) I called Scott to let him know that I got back safe and after I'd talked to the answering machine for a second he picked up and answered in, I think, Esperanto. Yes, my boyfriend is very weird. I love him. :)

Scott and I went from talking about our days to more serious topics (cont. from Monday and Tuesday) and I started talking really fast (it's hard to keep up with my brain; I tend to start tripping over my words after a few sentences of thinking-and-talking) and Scott can't listen that fast so we switched over to Skype and had a very brief serious conversation because Mom was sending me off to bed at that point.

At 6:00 a.m. LP came into my room ("Megan! Megan! Megan!") and climbed in my bed and was very sweet. Since then I've mostly been chasing her. Now I must finish up so I can get off the computer and chase her more if needed.

Monday, May 4, 2009

I'm about 85% melancholic. No further comment.

Be aware that your melancholic spouse may not always readily reveal all that is truly on his mind (especially if he is attempting to subdue some of his overly critical talk). Instead, he may store up the things that are bothering him until he finally has what we call the "melancholic dump." The melancholic dump is when all that is wrong in the world and with your relationship must be discussed at this very moment. Issues build up inside the introverted melancholic until it is no longer possible to remain silent. It can be painful for all parties.

From The Temperament God Gave You, by Art and Laraine Bennett

(Okay, one further comment: Scott is a sweetheart. And endlessly patient.)

Friday, May 1, 2009

I'm Spoiled

Scott has recently been waking up in the mornings. Yes, on about the third day in a row I fell over dead from astonishment. But I'm alive again now. I kind of like being able to talk to him when my brain is active. (Peak activity occurs around 10 a.m.) Usually we do most of our talking after dinner when he's starting to get chipper and my ability to speak coherently is already unraveling.

Evidence of how quickly I've gotten accustomed to this cataclysmic shift in routine: Just a moment ago I was sitting at my computer studying for a final and thinking, "Why are you not awake yet? I'm lonely."

Maybe this is God's way of telling me I should be focusing more exclusively on the whole studying thing.