Sunday, January 30, 2011

This probably makes me a bad Catholic, but I'm keeping it real here

First, a disclaimer: I love Jesus. I have an immense devotion to the Eucharist.

Now, Random Rant of the Day:

Since this is my blog, I am going to say right now that I don't think books about St. Imelda are a good way to encourage devotion to the Eucharist in small children. For those of you not familiar with the story, it goes like this: Little girl begs and pleads to join a convent, and does so at the age of 9. Little nun begs and pleads to receive the Eucharist, and does so at the age of 11. Little communicant immediately drops dead from the pure joy of union with her Lord.

I'll let you read that again, just in case you think you still need me to explain why this isn't a good book to give your 10-year-old daughter. I mean, at least St. Tarcissius got stoned by evil pagan children, and your poor son can comfort himself with the idea that there aren't a great many evil pagan children in suburban Ohio.

I'm sure one of these days St. Imelda will do something amazing and win me over, but for now my devotion to this particular saint is still hindered by the lesson absorbed by my 10-year-old brain, namely, "If you love Jesus you'll die for no apparent reason."

(photo courtesy of Amazon)

Friday, January 28, 2011

Seven Quick Takes: Tech Support is HARD Edition

1. My Quick Takes are later than usual this week because I had to help my mother figure out the Byzantine labyrinth of Blogger's Create a Post function. It was exhausting. I am not cut out for a job in tech support.

2. You should read my mother's post, partly because I want my hard work to be appreciated and partly because her last take is something I was going to post.

3. I got to see Mari during the March for Life, which was really nice.

4. My household did a White Elephant gift exchange on Wednesday. I got Oreos. Nomnomnom.

5. Teresa, over Skype: "Megan, can you bring me some shoclate ice cream, pwease? Or banilla?" Apparently I am magical and can send food digitally.

6. My thesis is already sucking out all my brains and I haven't even started it yet.

7. Today is the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas. I love him. A lot. I have a feeling we are going to become even better friends over the next 3 months.

Visit Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes.

Sunday, January 23, 2011


Tomorrow, I am going to the March for Life. I'm not marching for an abstraction, either. I have a whole list of children who should not have survived to birth but did, for whatever reason, and I'm thankful that they did.

Most of all, I'm marching for this little girl. I know very little about her bio mom's choices 4-5 years ago, but one way or another the Princess lived.

She has the right to live. She has the right to read stories to the cat and eat ice cream and wear her "party dress" all day every day and make messes and have opinions and stay up until midnight telling me ghost stories rather than sleeping.

Those 53 million people who've been aborted in the last 38 years? So did they.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Seven Quick Takes: Last first week edition

1. I am graduating in less than 4 months. It's actually starting to sink in now and I'm kind of nervous about it.

2. After much running around like a crazy person, I managed to arrange to write a double communication arts/theology thesis. So I only have to write one 30-35 page paper instead of two 20-25 page papers. I call that a win.

3. It's really hard to think of quick takes that don't involve whining about how rough my life is. It's really not that bad but I've gotten in a habit of whining a lot this last year or so.

4. I got to go to Mass every day this week. And I've prayed two rosaries. Which is more devotional practices than I got in the entire time I was home for Christmas break (5 weeks).

5. I had pineapple yesterday. It was $3 for a plastic cup of pineapple but I used the points on my meal card so I pretended it wasn't real money. Pineapple is really good, did you know that? Especially in winter.

6. I have decided that this semester I am going to be a real grown-up and wash my dishes immediately after I use them rather than immediately before I use them. So far I've had two mugs full of yogurt and have gone and rinsed them out in the sink immediately after finishing. Yay me.

7. I miss Scott. A lot. It's way too long until spring break.

For Quick Takes that are probably more cheerful and enlightening than these, go to Conversion Diary.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

I love Chesterton

And it's been an overwhelming couple of days, so this is what you get:

Keeping to one woman is a small price for so much as seeing one woman. To complain that I could only be married once was like complaining that I had only been born once. It was incommensurate with the terrible excitement of which one was talking. It showed, not an exaggerated sensibility to sex, but a curious insensibility to it. A man is a fool who complains that he cannot enter Eden by five gates at once.


Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, "Do it again"; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011


I was going to write a Scatterbrained Chef post to get me through here until I'm back at school (I try not to go more than a week without posting, believe it or not) but I'm not feeling the funny today and I'm not even feeling the "fake it till you make it" today. So. Talk to you next week.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Sometimes there is no going back

The Journey of the Magi

T. S. Eliot

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The snow was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Melancholics don't DO that sort of thing

I went to the optometrist today, partly because my current pair of glasses is actually falling apart, and partly because this is my last chance to get new glasses without spending $300 of my own money. Yes, I am a heartless mercenary, stocking up on stuff before I move out (hopefully this summer).

The good news is that my prescription is the same as last time. Apparently, it's only changed 3% in the 5 years since I first started seeing this particular optometrist, which means that the Great Vision Shift of 2003 (I went from mildly farsighted to severely nearsighted between two eye appointments) was a fluke caused by growing 6 inches in a year and I should be able to wear the same glasses until I need bifocals.

There is no bad news, just a funny story.

I went to pick out new frames with the goal of finding ones as much like my old ones as possible. I found a slightly-more-money-than-my-mother-wanted-to-pay pair that I thought was very pretty, and a "That's much better" pair that I thought was moderately pretty. But then I tried them on my actual face and decided that I liked the shape of the second pair better. The only problem with that pair was that it was pink. Not fluorescently pink or anything, but pink nonetheless. Here's the thing: I don't like pink.

The person working there must get a commission for selling an in-stock pair or something, because he was really pushing the pink option rather than the brown option which he admitted existed and could be ordered. He went so far as to start calling them "rose" rather than pink, as if I dislike the word rather than the color itself. I held firm, and my lovely brown glasses will arrive in 7 to 10 days--just in time for me to go back to school in 13 days.

Going out to the car, I realized something and got a good laugh at the fact that the man at the optometrist's was trying to get me to look at the world through rose-colored glasses.