Happy Halloween!

I'm going to sit out on my porch with the neighbors and watch the parade of candy-seeking children. Happy Haunting!

Ghostly Neighborhood

I love the giant spiders climbing on this house and fence. Crazy house on the corner... Green cobwebs? They must be really old.
Witches, ghosts and other frightening creatures abound.
Dropping from the sky...
Popping out from behind trees...
Crawling among the fallen leaves...
There's even a political ghoul.

18 Months

Happy half-birthday Tugger!

Flying into the Sunset

These pictures were taken when I went to visit friends in early September.

Waiting for take-off

Somewhere over western PA

Have You Seen This Blog Post?

Strange Sightings of Our Lady

I spied this at the entrance to a women's restroom at a rest area along the New Jersey Turnpike. Beneath the image of Our Lady of Guadeloupe, it says "Get your daily inspirational message." Makes me wonder what sort of inspirational messages it provides alongside your weight and luck lotto numbers.

Christmas Year-Round

I've heard of leaving ones Christmas lights up year-round, but this goes far beyond that.

I have been driving by this house at least once a week since January. It has seemed out of place since mid-Frebruary, but I'm guessing that by mid-November it will fit in again.

Cheers

A Scottish toast over Belgian beer for an Italian friend's birthday...

May the best you've ever seen be the worst you'll ever see;
May a mouse ne'er leave your girnal with tear in his eye;
May you stay hale and hearty 'til you're old enough to die;
May you always be as happy as we wish you all to be.

They're ba-ack!

Signs that undergrads are back on/near campus:

• Minivans full of clothes, plastic bins and minifridges are parked on the usually scenic no-vehicles-allowed walkway
• The bookstore has put out extra shirts and other logo-bearing paraphenalia
• Gaggles of adolescents walk en-mass and don't seem to know or care to follow traffic laws
• Parent-child pairs wander through campus appearing to be lost, or tracking creatures invisible to the rest of us, as they walk one way, stop, turn around, head in a different direction, pause and glance around, head back in the original direction
  
• Boxes from newly purchased furnishing from IKEA, Target, etc. pile up outside off-campus houses and apartment buildings

The worst of all...

• Carnage from last night's porch party, including broken porch railing and numerous red Solo cups (I can't upload the stench of spilled bear rising from the AstroTurf as the day warms up rapidly, but I wouldn't inflict that upon you anyways.)

Sunset

Signage

Since this sign is on the inside of the stall door, I wonder if it needs to be labeled rest room. If one doesn't know where one is when in a small cubicle with a toilet, he has bigger problems than flushing inappropriate items.

Crucifix

"The crucifix is an open book that all can read.
The crucifix is an infinite declaration of love."

~ Saint Catherine of Sienna

Sleeping with Bread

When did I feel most connected?
Last week I went to an evening Phillies game with some friends. We had a fun time, spending much of the game conversing and thereby missing some of the action. (I learned that Philly has a city flag and what it looks like.) There was one home-run scored by the home team!
G packed so much stuff—goldfish crackers, Tasty Cakes, animal crackers, two towels, two extra jackets, emergency rain ponchos—his bag was overflowing. It was a cool day and rain was forecast. Having lived in the Pacific Northwest I have a nuanced view on aqueous precipitation; I maintain that it did not rain rather it misted during most of the game with heavy mist driving off many spectators from the bottom of the sixth inning to the top of the eighth. Luckily we were in the nose-bleed seats and therefore under partial cover. R and I each ended up wearing one of G’s extra jackets by the end of the game, but the emergency rain ponchos went unused.
I was so tired by the time I got home (and did not want to get up when the alarm went off the next morning), but it was worth it.

When did I feel least connected?
I haven’t been feeling well for the past few weeks but was muddling along. Adding to that the stress of the upcoming start of school and everything else that’s been going on, I was so overwhelming on Friday that I cried through Mass—from the homily to when Father was ready to lock up the building. Fr G kindly listened to me for a while then walked me over to the hospital’s emergency department. I really didn’t need to be in the ED, but I was not about to argue with Fr G.
I hated sitting in the ED, especially the waiting. (You have to go through a metal detector, and they take all electronics away.) After a long time, during which I was seen by to two nurses, a resident and an attending physician and which I had tried to convince myself wasn’t actually that long (no visible clock), I was discharged with two prescriptions. One I’ve started taking; the other insurance won’t fill without prior authorization (which the ED cannot do). I have a follow-up outpatient appointment in a few weeks; hopefully I’ll be feeling better by then, but only time will tell.

Not Ready

Honors Court

When I was with my best friend from college at the beginning of August, we went to visit our alma mater. It's changed a lot since I graduated, but it some ways it will never change. The names of every graduate since 1849 are written on the walls of this courtyard, and I got to see mine for the first time on this trip.

Why?

I saw this girl walking down the street the other day at lunch time and took a picture surreptitiously using my phone.


Why would anyone want to bear this mark for her entire life?

Sleeping with Bread

For what am I most grateful?
I bought a desk this Saturday. It’s not exactly what I wanted, but it does have a large surface. I haven’t had one since the movers broke mine last fall, and it is no nice not to be using the card table in the dining room any more. Having a desk set-up to work at is a simple thing, and yet it feels so good.

For what am I least grateful?
I feel homesick. I know that technically I am home, but in my family home is where your mother lives. And for me that is quite far away. My high school reunion was this past weekend. While I can honestly tell you that I did not want to go, I do feel like I missed out. I haven’t asked my best friend from those years (the only person in the class that I still talk to) if she ended up going, but she’s the only one with whom I would like to hang out once again and she wasn’t sure if she would come. I didn’t go home for it because my mother would be leaving the day after I arrived, and I could not justify the time off and the travel expenses to spend a Saturday afternoon with the girls with whom I haven’t bothered to talk since the summer after we graduated. So I’m missing that sense of home, especially Mom and the “furry noses.”

Pretty Building

This is the most beautiful science building exterior that I have ever seen. It appears to change colors with the changing angle of the light.

Very True

This sign at the zoo had us cracking up.

“It is for us to pray, not for tasks equal to our powers, but for powers equal to our tasks; to go forward with a great desire forever beating at the door of our hearts as we travel toward our distant goal.”

~ Helen Keller

Sleeping with Bread

What has brought me consolation? And what has brought me desolation?

I am at odds about my job. I am looking forward to teaching this fall, a lot. I am excited about planning for it and working with the students. But I am struggling with an issue that I conveyed to my supervisor a few months ago, that I am not doing the research that motivated me to pick this group over another, the work that my contract states that I am working upon. He replied that he thinks that what I’m working on is best for me, but that perhaps I might be able to do some work on that project eventually, on the side of this other project. This is not satisfactory to me; I’m not happy and feel like I’m being used, under the guise of ‘it’ll be better for your career.' So, I am considering what I want to do after this year, and how I want to proceed through this year. Even though I still will have one more year in this program, I’m not sure that I want to stay that long. Don't get me wrong... I like my boss; he's a nice guy. But what I though were mutual understandings about what I want for my career long-term doesn't seem to be playing out. While sticking it out is likely better career-wise than jumping ship, I don't want to continue living my life for some potential future happiness.

Grrrrrr...
I wish I were a bear.

Misadventure at the Zoo

There's an exhibit at the zoo where you can feed the giraffes. Since $5 for 3 pieces of romaine lettuce was too much, we saved some lettuce from our sandwiches at lunch.
Giraffes doing the splits are cute, but no picture of that got taken because... ooops!
It fell in the best possible location, right in front of a door into the exhibit, and the zoo keepers were very nice.
All's well that ends well.

Doing v. Being

Not being able to do something frustrates me to no end. I wish that I could do something, anything to make things better to bring healing.


I have to trust that my presence, albeit long distance, will bring some measure of consolation. Others tell me but you’ve been there, don’t you know what to do or say. I do not. There was nothing in particular that brought nor brings me consolation. Having been there myself gives me no special insight into another’s suffering. To think that it would, seems arrogant.

Sleeping with Bread

When did I feel most alive?
I spent this past weekend staying with one of my best friends from college. While it has been a while since we’ve seen each other and our lives are very different, we have remained close and supported each other through difficult times. So it was so nice to be able to spend time together—being goofy and talking in person. On Saturday we met one of my best friends from graduate school (along with her husband) at the zoo. It was a hot afternoon and if we were thinking practically, we probably should have picked an indoor activity. But we enjoyed each others’ company thoroughly. (I’m glad they all got along.) It was a nice little vacation.

When did I feel most drained of life?
During the past week I attended a conference out of town and staying in a college dormitory. It was draining to be away from the comforts of home and sharing a room, when all I wanted to do after long days of talks and workshops was to do some reading and get to bed early.
The conference content was exciting to me professionally. (I referred to it at an academic pep rally in describing the atmosphere to someone, up-beat and enthusiastic.) I learned a lot and made many good connections (that I need to follow up on this week). However, the quantity of information was overwhelming. Sometimes I experiences difficulty mentally shifting-gears because I was presented with so much food-for-thought, and falling asleep at night took a while as a struggled to put many thoughts aside.

Sarah

A year before my brother got sick, my best friend from college had a rough year. Her foster brother suffered a TBI during his second tour “in the sandbox,” returning home with the mental capacity of a three year old. I consoled her when she agonized over buying him Sesame Street picture books for his birthday. While she knew that was what would make him happy, it was hard for her to think of her older brother in this new light. Over the past years he has recovered significantly but is never expected to regain all prior function.

That same year her father suffered a stroke and was diagnosed with MS. A while later an inoperable brain tumor was added to the diagnosis with a one-year prognosis. His condition deteriorated significantly over the years, but after three years the terminal prognosis was lifted. The family’s suffering over the past 4+ years has been great but they turn to the Lord for consolation.

There feels to be no consolation large enough for the pain of the last two weeks of her father’s life or to fill the gaping hole his absence leaves in their lives. Again all I can do is be present.

Bob

There are no coincidences. There are no accidents. These two axioms were indelibly printed in my brain by one of my middle school teachers, a wonderful woman we called Mrs. S.

My mother had a new fellow and a student intern last winter. About two weeks after the student started working with my mother, Mom asked me if I remembered a family that went to the same catholic grade school my siblings and I all graduated from. I said I did and she told me that her student KB was nee KG. K and I were not in the same class but we were in the same Girl Scout troops for many years, sharing many trips and adventures. My mother caught me up on what K had been up to since we lost tough after high school. And K was understanding when my mother rearranged their work schedule many times to take care of things related to my brother’s death and my mother’s need to take time off. My sister and I both “friended” K on Facebook.

When K graduated this June, she got a job working for my mother’s company and was assigned as my mother for her fellowship year. Unfortunately a week after she started working, her eldest brother died. He was ten years older and thus already away in college by the time K became friends through scouting. Like my brother he was a Naval officer, proud of serving his country and having put himself through school. He had returned home safely from tours in the desert but in a tragic accident in eastern Washington, he left behind a guilt-ridden wife, two darling (injured but recovering nicely) sons, and a host of family and friends.
For three weeks my mother and another colleague split K’s work, working late every day and some weekends too. Then my mother took a day off, knowing that it would necessitate her working that Saturday, to attend the funeral. A friend told my mother that she didn’t have to go, that K would understand. But they did not know the old connections.
The funeral was difficult. To be back at a church we once attended, surrounded by old acquaintances and young men and women in military service uniform, to see the ceremony at the national cemetery, lacking the precision of the guard that buried my bother but reminiscent of the times my brother served at funerals for veterans during his college years, to see the grief of another family and know that there’s nothing that could be said or done to ease the pain.

I can be present for K but I know there is nothing I could ever say or do to ease the suffering caused by the loss of her brother. I wish there was.
I wish there was.

I'm back

I have spent a great deal of time in the past months looking for answers to questions that I cannot even clearly enunciate. I have mostly secluded myself, spending most of my time (outside of the laboratory) reading and praying. This seclusion went too far and before I knew it I had isolated myself from everyone, letting go of the fledgling relationships I had been forging in this new city, new job, new position in life. I knew I needed contact with others but I didn’t want anyone here… I wanted my guys, the girls, and the usual suspects. Alas I knew that it couldn’t be, but that didn’t quell the desire.

I though about writing but was never satisfied with the words that came out. Nothing adequately captures the potpourri of emotions, thoughts, etcetera, that have filled my days. The suffering I have experienced and witnessed this year is enormous and yet grace and love finds a way to shine through, even when I don’t want to acknowledge it.

As my blogging absence grew, thoughts of posting something made me question why I blog. The conclusion that I have come to is that I blog primarily as a record of thoughts for myself and secondly to share my thoughts with anyone who reads them in hopes that they will provide some inspiration, consolation or other benefit. The Sleeping with Bread meme provides some measure of accountability and I have resolved to be more diligent about recording my Ignatian Examan on a weekly basis.

It's nice to be back. I've missed y'all.

"Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
These laid the world away; poured out the red
Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be
Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,
That men call age; and those who would have been,
Their sons, they gave, their immortality.

"Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,
Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.
Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,
And paid his subjects with a royal wage;
And Nobleness walks in our ways again;
And we have come into our heritage."

-Rupert Brooke

Gratitude

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us."
~Albert Schweitzer

"There is a calmness to a life lived in gratitude, a quiet joy."
~Ralph H. Blum

So Clever

How to open a wine bottle with a shoe

Itty Bitty Foal

A tiny foal named Einstein, born in New Hampshire last Friday weighing only 6 pounds, may be the world's tiniest foal ever. The story has been reported by the Associated Press and carried by many news sources.

Isn't he adorable?

The Song Against Grocers

God made the wicked Grocer
For a mystery and a sign,
That men might shun the awful shops
And go to inns to dine;
Where the bacon's on the rafter
And the wine is in the wood,
And God that made good laughter
Has seen that they are good.

The evil-hearted Grocer
Would call his mother "Ma'am,"
And bow at her and bob at her,
Her aged soul to damn,
And rub his horrid hands and ask
What article was next
Though MORTIS IN ARTICULO
Should be her proper text.

His props are not his children,
But pert lads underpaid,
Who call out "Cash!" and bang about
To work his wicked trade;
He keeps a lady in a cage
Most cruelly all day,
And makes her count and calls her "Miss"
Until she fades away.

The righteous minds of innkeepers
Induce them now and then
To crack a bottle with a friend
Or treat unmoneyed men,
But who hath seen the Grocer
Treat housemaids to his teas
Or crack a bottle of fish sauce
Or stand a man a cheese?

He sells us sands of Araby
As sugar for cash down;
He sweeps his shop and sells the dust
The purest salt in town,
He crams with cans of poisoned meat
Poor subjects of the King,
And when they die by thousands
Why, he laughs like anything.

The wicked Grocer groces
In spirits and in wine,
Not frankly and in fellowship
As men in inns do dine;
But packed with soap and sardines
And carried off by grooms,
For to be snatched by Duchesses
And drunk in dressing-rooms.

The hell-instructed Grocer
Has a temple made of tin,
And the ruin of good innkeepers
Is loudly urged therein;
But now the sands are running out
From sugar of a sort,
The Grocer trembles; for his time,
Just like his weight, is short.

-- G.K. Chesterton (From "The Flying Inn", 1914)


I found an excerpt from this poem when doing some reading about Arsenic to prepare for a class I'm teaching next week. Chesterton and chemistry collide.

Scented postage

Remember when I mentioned this Postcrossing thing back in November. Well, I've really been enjoying it. It's so nice to receive mail which is neither junk nor bills.

I received this lovely card from Thailand a few weeks ago.

This week I received a rose-scented card from Germany. It was damaged in the mail, but have retained a faint floral scent. The sender told me about their new postage. The floral ones, looking just like this postcard, are available as of 1 March.
The secret behind the scents lies in microencapsulated fragrant oils built into the paper they are made of. When you rub your fingers over fruit or flower on the stamp you will be able to feel the charming scent, or you can let the addressee discover waves of roses or strawberries themselves. Germany is not the first country to invent the fragrant stamps. You can check out older examples here.

More Caffeine

Some days simply require more caffeine than others...

It's Monday

John Updike's "Seven Stanzas For Easter"

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cell’s dissolution did not reverse, the
molecules re-knit, the amino-acides rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that—pierced—died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of Enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, side-stepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in
the faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, no papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid
with hair, opaque in the dawn light,
robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle
and crushed by remonstrance.

Alleluia! He is Risen!

Heavenly Father and God of mercy, we no longer look for Jesus among the dead, for he is alive and has become the Lord of life.

From the waters of death you raise us with Him and renew your gift of life within us.

Increase in our minds and hearts the risen life we share with Christ and help us to grow as your people toward the fullness of eternal life with you.

We ask this through Christ, our Risen Lord.

Amen.

Good Friday

"Jesus, Man of Sorrows, those drops of Blood that flow down Your Face, those deep gashes caused by the thorns that cir­cle Your holy head, make You dearer to me than if Your forehead shone with pre­cious stones. Such signs remind me of the Divine love that burns in Your Heart for me. I love the noble, sorrowful maj­esty of Your holy Face. You reject the crown of gold and the rich robes of royal state, and accept instead a crown of thorns and the purple rags of mockery and scorn.
You consent to be a mock-king, a king of fools, only to be the real King of my soul. My thorn-crowned King, I adore You as my very God. I subject myself entirely to Your Divine Kingship of love. I would rather be a fool in the eyes of men for Your sake and have You reign over me, than be king of the world and be the slave of the prince of darkness. I adore You as the Conqueror of hearts, whose Kingdom is not of this world, but of heav­en."
~Fr. Lawrence Lovasik

Lord, Have Mercy.

"Divine Mercy is the center of the Gospel message, manifested through the Sacraments and works of mercy done by the Church. It is the only source of true peace for every human heart and every human community."

What image do you think comes to mind when most Catholics think of Divine Mercy, and who do they associate with the spread of the message of Divine Mercy? The image here and St. Faustina are the most likely answers, and they would have been mine too until recently. Reading Robert Stackpole’s "Divine Mercy: A Guide from Genesis to Benedict XVI" has greatly expanded my understanding and appreciation of the marvelous thing that is our Lord’s Divine Mercy. Now I also think of the shepherd and the lost lamb, the prodigal son’s return, St. Luke the Evangelist, St. Augustine, St. Catherine of Siena, St. Francis of Assisi, Pope John Paul II, and many others.

The book is organized into three parts which build a beautiful image of what Divine Mercy truly is and what a glorious gift it is. The first part includes the characteristics of God’s Divine Mercy and helps the reader to understand how much God loves us. Stackpole talks about two Hebrew words used in the Old Testament to describe God’s mercy: hesed, a love that is steadfast and always giving; and rachamim, a tender and compassionate love. Examples of Divine Mercy from the Old and New Testament, from Genesis through Revelations, are examined, establishing a secure foundation for belief in Divine Mercy. In part two Stackpole examines the writings of several saints, developing their viewpoints of Divine Mercy. This section is very deep and meaty; these men and women contributed greatly to the understanding of Divine Mercy. The final part places the understanding of Divine Mercy in a modern context, showing it continues to be revealed. It also emphasizes the world’s great need to hear about, understand and trust in God’s mercy.

Each year when Divine Mercy Sunday come around I am always reminded that I want to read St. Faustina’s Diary. I have been intimidated by its length and put it off until later. With this background reading, I feel that I already have a much better grasp on her revelations and writings, especially with the broader context of Divine Mercy. I would still like to read it… someday.

This review was written as part of the Catholic book Reviewer program from The Catholic Company. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information on Divine Mercy: A Guide from Genesis to Benedict XVI.

P.S. Today is the day to begin the Divine Mercy novena.

Maundy Thursday

It was a day when Jesus showed what it was to serve when he washed the disciples feet.

It was a day when the Eucharist was instituted.

It was a day when Jesus underwent unknown suffering to pay the price for my sins.

Today is a day that is an important part of Holy Week that reminds me that I always have the greatest example I’ll ever need in the Savior and how great the debt is I owe him for the chance I now have to repent and be forgiven.

Inspiration from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to yearn for the endless immensity of the sea."
~ from "Citadelle"

"A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral."

~ from "Pilote de Guerre"

"Your task is not to foresee the future, but to enable it."
~ from "Citadelle"

Crazy Cat Lady

I am the crazy cat lady this week. I have my brother's two cats, in addition to mine, staying in my one bedroom apartment this week. It's a busy place. My sister-in-law didn't think that they have any problems adjusting since Tugger has stayed with them before. The boys (Tugger and Tron, who are almost the same age) usually play and sleep together.

However, Tron and Prime were scared when they first arrived on Saturday afternoon and hid behind the toilet. And were 'fraidy cats for the first two days, staying under my bed or the couch most of the time.

But this morning Tugger and Tron were playing together, chasing each other around.