I am currently freaking out about the Holy Day of Obligation tomorrow, because freaking out about things is my full-time job. See, our usual parish has a nice convenient vigil Mass tonight, so I was all, "Oh, we can go to that."
Except Scott is singing at First Friday Mass at a different parish, so we kind of can't.
My mother and two random college friends (on Facebook) say that the readings from the Mass you attend have to be the readings from the feast for the Mass to count. Fr. Z and Ed Peters disagree, but I don't know them; they could be some dude in his mother's basement posting about canon law for giggles. (They're probably totally the same person and Fr. Z just disagrees with Dr. Peters' interpretation of another point to maintain the ruse.)
Something that was debated on my Facebook wall earlier this week: Does four children count as a "big family"?
It'd be kind of cool if it did; I've always wanted to come from a big family.
Anyway, my favorite answer was from my friend Mari (herself the eldest of four children) who said:
No. You come from an ambiguously medium-sized family that seems sprawling to some and pathetically small to others. Everyone will either wonder why there are so many kids, or why there aren't a lot more. No one understands you and you will be marginalized FOREVER.
Last week, Mom and Teresa were at the library (probably Matthew was along too, but he doesn't feature in the story). Mom was doing her own thing while Teresa played board games with a little boy around her own age. When it was time to leave, Teresa came up to Mom and asked for their phone number. Mom asked why she needed it, and Teresa explained that she and the little boy weren't done with their game so she invited him to come over and finish it.
Mom declined to provide the number. Apparently Teresa has, as a result, been paying really good attention during the "learn your phone number and address" lessons that are part of her kindergarten curriculum. I am going to laugh and laugh if Mom gets random calls from strangers about scheduling a playdate one of these days.
This post at Seven Angels, etc., reminded me of something hilarious that happened to me about 3 years ago. I don't know if I ever posted about it, but if so I might as well post about it again.
Once upon a time (in November of 2009), I was at "the Pub" buying myself a sandwich or some candy or something. I don't remember. One of the TOR sisters was in line in front of me, buying a sandwich (or something like that) and piece of pumpkin pie. Now, the prices on food could be kind of confusing...if you paid with your meal card, they didn't have sales tax, but if you paid with cash, they did. One way or the other, Sister was about 25 cents shy of what she needed for her food. As she forlornly remarked that she would just have to put the pie back, I quietly opened up my little coin purse and deposited a quarter in front of her. Somehow I communicated the fact that yes, she was allowed to keep it, and no, of course she didn't have to pay me back. She thanked me effusively and went away happy with her pumpkin pie; I went away happy with the glow of my good deed.
That's not the point of the story. The point of the story is that about a week later, I was sitting having a write-in with my friend Rebekah (this is how I know this story happened in November of 2009), when that same Sister came scurrying up to our table, made some remark about how happy she was to have found me, and put a quarter down in front of me.
I was too astonished to say anything (I do have distinctive long hair, but with my hermitlike ways I can't be that easy to find), and she scurried away as quickly as she'd come.
I know it's not quite the same thing as Jane's example, but three years later I still squee from the sheer cuteness of it.
I forgot to mention in my last post that for our anniversary Scott and I made this:
It was delicious. Note also the sparkling cider in the background there. This was on November 24, because on our actual anniversary (November 26) Scott had Schola (Schola night means he's out of the house from 7 a.m. to about 9:30 p.m.). There ended up being CAKE at Schola because it was the director's birthday, so when I came to pick him up I got cake too. It was kind of neat.
I've been doing some baking lately. Last weekend it was homemade caramel (for my own secret purposes which will be revealed later). My first attempt looked like this:
This is how you all know I'm not actually magical in the kitchen. This stuff smelled as bad as it looked. The second time I was more vigilant and produced this:
That's a whole different saucepan, in case you're curious.
I also made pumpkin muffins yesterday, because it's never a bad time for pumpkin muffins. I had, some time ago, chopped up and boiled a pumpkin that I purchased at the store as a Halloween decoration. The giant bowl of boiled pumpkin had been taking up space in my fridge ever since, but I finally pulled out all my tiny plastic containers and just started filling them. The final result was this:
That's 1 cup of puree in the muffins (I made a small batch) and maybe 15-20 cups in the various other containers.
Remind me next year that one pumpkin is more than enough.
This is my Advent wreath:
I actually absolutely love it; my aesthetic sensibilities tend toward minimalism in everything but church architecture. As an added benefit, I'm setting the bar low for all the ladies who have small children and stuff. You're welcome.
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