Messy Buns & Latin Chant

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There is this great bit from My Best Friend's Wedding  where Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz are discussing who the guy should be with based on what type of food they are. "No, creme brule could never be jello.  You  could never be jello!" "But I  have  to be jello!!" I have zero interest in creme brule. It has long since been established I am 100% unavoidably jello. And I am totally chill with that. What I want to be is a waffle, but just like poor Cameron Diaz, I can't be. I am sentenced to be spaghetti for the rest of my life. Before you start thinking I let the two year old write for me today, let me explain. There is a book called, Guys are Waffles, Girls are Spaghetti by Chad Eastham , which a review on Goodreads posits as the healthier alternative to I Kissed Dating Goodbye  (more on THAT monstrosity another day). The premise is based on neurological research that shows how men and women process information differently. Men have little menta

Last night was "one of those nights". The past week has been "one of those weeks." I'm running on coffee and a prayer, and the last little bit of patience I have left. Desperately in need of some me-time and inspiration, and stuck chasing kidlets without any way to get it. Mercifully, yesterday began the CC4Moms "Motherhood Matters: Big and Small" conference. This is my first time attending, but WOW. A few weeks ago, I was able to  preview a talk on "pornography proofing" your children and review it for Catholicmom.com . It was really insightful, and I have been looking forward to the opening of the conference. When it began yesterday, I chose two more topics to watch, Dr. Ray Guarendi's on discipline and Becky Roach on ministry. Today, I am working my way through the topics, starting with Jennifer Willits on prayer. I'm sure I'll have a lot more to say about all the topics as the conference goes on, but even just on day tw

As November 2nd approaches, I have been preparing for my favorite liturgy of the year: the Solemn Requiem for All Souls. A big part of why I love it so much is because I get to sing what I will argue is the most powerful piece of liturgical music ever written, the Dies Irae . In addition to sounding positively heart-stopping , the lyrics are so solemn and convicting . Take this excerpt for example: Then shall with universal dread/ the Book of Consciences be read/ to judge the lives of all the dead. For now before the Judge severe/ all hidden things must plain appear/ no crime can pass unpunished here. O King of dreadful majesty!/ grace and mercy You grant free;/ as Fount of Kindness, save me! It fills you with such a sense of dread and awe! You can't help but leave that Mass with an acute awareness of your own mortality and need for conversion and mercy. Contrast that with the sentiment at most modern funerals. Its not unusual to leave feeling more like you attended

When I woke up this morning at 2:15am to feed the baby, I scrolled through Facebook to stay awake for ten minutes, not imagining what I would find. I didn't sleep well the rest of the night, and like all of America, I haven't been mentally calm all day. I've been listening to the radio, following the latest revelations online, and watching with deep sorrow as the death toll continues to rise. Never letting a good crisis go to waste, all I've been hearing is "pro-gun this" and "anti-gun that". I have my opinions on that matter, but at this part of the story, they are not relevant whatsoever.  Little exchanges like these on twitter are amusing, but ultimately, unhelpful: via Twitter There is something extremely aggravating about the uncertainty of the events and the knowledge that we will probably never know what happened exactly. I hate having to wait and see what narrative is trotted out, and I hate even more the opportunistic posturing