curlygrrl's Xanga

St. Joseph Khang

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 21:06:23 GMT

I kinda love doing polls. It combines the fun of forced feedback with the reassurance that there are actual people out there actually reading this, even if there are only twelve of them. I mean, I know my footprint log shows lots of hits, some from exotic locales like England (well, the UK), France, Russia, South Korea (Hi, Young Queen! Hi, Big Brother!), and New Brunswick (um, hi to you too!). But for all I know those could be webcrawlers and search engines, and, you know, stuff. So it's nice to know that I have readers, real live readers, readers who take polls.

It seems that, according to my latest poll, my readers are kinda split between feeding the Football Seniors (and doesn't that sound like a group of Grandpas hobbling around the field with their walkers?) either Pasta or Oven Fried Chicken, with multiple votes going to each of the other choices, except pizza. Considering that I knew that one of the votes for Oven Fried Chicken was mine, I decided that pasta had won, and started to plan accordingly. Spaghetti and Meatballs sounded boring, I can't eat most kinds of cheese, so Lasagna or most other baked pastas were out. I wanted the boys to get a healthy dose of protein with their carbs, and Boy-O had kept talking about chicken, which led me to Chicken Parmigiana. I looked up some recipes online, and it seemed easy enough. Pound chicken breasts, bread same, brown in skillet, bake with tomato sauce and cheese. No problem. And this is why, at about 3:30 yesterday afternoon, I was up to my elbows in 15 lbs of raw chicken, over a dozen beaten eggs, three canisters of bread crumbs (Italian Style), and various combinations of the three, not all of them entirely appetizing, plus two skillets sputtering away on the stove, and a kitchen table half covered with jars of spaghetti sauce. It was, shall we say, exciting. At one point I spattered hot oil on my arm, but didn't have time to tend to it, and promptly forgot about it except when I accidentally touched the burn and pain reminded me. (This morning at work I pushed up she sleeve of my sweater, and was startled to see blisters. "Oh, yeah," I thought, "I did burn myself, didn't I.")

Somehow, about three hours later, all of this resolved itself, with the help of my Mom, Aunt S, and Johnsy, into a serene still life of food: two big pans of Chicken Parmigiana bubbling appetizingly under its covering of cheese, another pan of spaghetti, the big pot of extra sauce on the stove, the lovely salad on the kitchen table, and the huge basket of home baked bread (that I, um, stayed up most of the night Wednesday night to bake) beside a truly monumental bowl of Spreadable Crack.

And then the boys ate it.

Well, except for the salad. They didn't touch the salad. Aunt S, who made it, was a little disappointed, I think. But not me. They might not like salad, but I do, and I'm happy to have it in my fridge. There were lots of other leftovers too, including enough chicken to send some home with Boy-O and still have some to freeze for later, spaghetti and sauce, and such an abundance of Spreadable Crack that even Johnsy (who has been known to hide it in the fridge) will be satisfied. We had brownies too, made by Johnsy, which the guys seemed to really like. (Btw, a little love goes out to the people who chose "Football players don't deserve dessert." on the poll. What can I say? I'm a band geek at heart.) On the whole the guys seemed to like everything. It was a little hard to tell. They were almost preternaturally polite. I don't know if I've ever been called Ma'am so many times in one evening. It was awfully cute. But then, I find that my instinctive reaction to teenage boys in general tends to be of the "Aw, look at the cute widdle teenager! So cute!" variety. I try hard to repress this, since I know it would most emphatically not be appreciated, but I'm afraid it tends to leak through on occasion.

All in all it was a good evening. The boys left almost immediately after they were done eating (it was a school night and all). It was kinda funny. I happened to be standing at the kitchen counter sortof near the trash can when the mass exodus began. It became almost like a receiving line. They came into the kitchen with their disposable plates and silverware, deposited them in the trash can, and politely said good-night and thank you to me on their way out. After we cleaned up I took Boy-O home (do you know how awesome it is to have a baby brother who volunteers to stay and help clean up?), then returned to watch part of Galaxy Quest and the new episode of The Mentalist with Ani. And it was good.

Also, Ani says that our kitten Baby is most definitely a him. So we don't need to wonder about that anymore. Whew.

St. Charles Borromeo

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 20:26:50 GMT

Wordless Wednesday: Kitten Cuteness

There is no escaping teh cute.

Our kitten Baby thinks chairs are for climbing.

And then jumping off of.

This is partly because we have been training her not to jump up on the table. But chairs are fair game.

That's what she (or maybe he) says, anyway.

We'll go with that.

And just for reference, this is what Baby looked like the first day we took her (or him) in.

St. Martin de Porres

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 16:23:42 GMT

So you know that line about plans, something like "Man proposes, God disposes." Yeah, that was what my weekend was like. I had planned to go to Boy-O's football game on Friday, pass out candy to the neighborhood kids on Saturday, and then go off dancing with my "Nudists Local #1654 ON STRIKE" badge as a costume. It was a good plan. The problem was that as I finished up work Friday evening and headed home, I started to develop a really nasty headache. The closer I got to game time, the worse it got, and I realized that a football game, with the cheering and bright lights, etc., was just about the last place I wanted to be. So I texted people my regrets, laid down, and was out like a light almost before my head hit the pillow.

Various texts letting me know the progress of the game (we lost 21-0) didn't wake me, but a phone call about 11:30 did. It was Aunt B informing me that there was going to be a Family Dinner the next night at her house honoring Aunty C, and my presence was both Requested and Required (mega bonus points if you catch that allusion). I was trying to figure out a way that I could both attend the dinner and still give one of my swing kids a ride to the dance, but then the girl in question messaged me letting me know that she wasn't sure that she was going to the dance anymore, and if she did go, her boyfriend would drive her. So instead of dancing the night away, I ended up heading over to Aunt B's house.

While I was there, the funniest thing happened. As I have mentioned, Boy-O is a Senior this year, and somehow my mom became the Senior Football Mom. (Which is incredibly ironic, as my mom is about as far from the iconic football mom as you can get - I don't think she even owns a turtleneck to wear under her team sweatshirt.) Her main duties involve making the arrangements for the Senior Football Dinners. Traditionally all the Senior football players go to dinner at someone's house the night before the game, and she's in charge of coordinating who's turn it is to host them. Only, since next week's game isn't part of the regular season, she hadn't arranged for anyone to do it, and didn't feel up to doing it herself. Mom said that she would pay for the food, but she needed someone else to do the work. And somehow I found myself, well, volunteering to do it. Consequently, I will be having 17 HS football players over to dinner at my house Thursday night. I know. Surreal.

I've been getting advice from various people about what I should serve. My initial plan involved large pots of chili plus cornbread, but then I asked Boy-O what he and his teammates really liked. He immediately waxed downright poetic describing a recent dinner that involved large amounts of hot wings and jalapeno poppers. (The jalapeno poppers came in for special notice - I think he mentioned those seven or eight times.) I took this under advisement, and rather than be a copy cat, decided to fall back on one of BMIWW's classic menus, Oven Fried Chicken Drummies with Twice Baked Potatoes. This seemed to have a lot of fans (Mick immediately tried to invite himself over to share in the feast), but then last night I asked Xtiano (who recently was a HS football player) what he thought. To my surprise, he came down strongly on the side of pasta, especially with lots and lots of bread sticks. Carbs, he seemed to think, were the important thing, and baked pasta dishes were one of the ideal ways to consume said carbs.

Now it is true that if I made pasta I could also bake bread, and make an extra large batch of my Spreadable Crack to go on it. But I could do that if I made the Chicken Drummies too. And while Xtiano seems to think pasta is Teh Awesome, Boy-O didn't mention it in his List of Highly Favored Foods. Boy-O seemed to lean much more heavily towards chicken items, and also spiciness. Which brings me back to chili. I'm just not sure. Consequently, I have created a poll to help you, my dear readers, figure out what I should make. I'm going grocery shopping sometime tomorrow, so you have about 24 hours to either take the poll or leave a comment telling me what you think I should do.

Also, I should mention that I am having a BIG SALE in my Etsy shop this week. In honor of getting more than 100 Shop Hearts (I am currently at 111), I have taken 10% off everything in the store. You're welcome. Now go buy things!

Also, also - I got featured.

Survey: Senior Football Dinner Menu

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 16:18:12 GMT

Quizzes by Quibblo.com

St. Dorothy of Montau

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 20:26:51 GMT

It is so gorgeously sunny and bright outside right now. I have all the windows in the office wide open to let the air in. I can hear the dry leaves being blown across the sidewalk by the wind, and a little while ago, even heard an ice cream truck out making its rounds. It doesn't feel like late October at all, much more like September, or maybe even the end of August. It's perfect weather for a football game, so we're all crossing our fingers and praying that the predicted rain will hold off until after the game tonight is done. It's Boy-O's last regular season game, Aunty C has come up from New York just for this, so all of us will be there. It would be very nice if we didn't have to get soaked. We'll see.

I keep forgetting that Halloween is coming. It's never been a huge event for me. My family didn't celebrate Halloween, and I didn't go trick or treating myself until I was over twenty. I was very excited for a couple of years about the Halloween Swing Dance, and put a lot of thought into various costumes. But then I finally made it to the dance, dressed as Princess Pupule, and it was excellent. Now I feel kinda... been there, done that. Sure, dressing up is fun, but I don't really have any ideas, and this doesn't bother me. I've committed to going to the Halloween Swing Dance again this year (I'm giving one of my swing kids a ride), but I just don't feel like dressing up. I dunno. Do you think it's ok to go to a Halloween Party without wearing a costume? I mean, I know I could do the whole nametag with "Hello, My Name is God" written on it thing, but even that feels like too much effort.

I think a little part of my blah-ness is that last night I found out that the psalm we'll be singing in Mass on Sunday is the same one Indy and I chose for our brother's funeral, the one with the refrain, "Lord, this is the people that longs to see your face," and the verse that talks about the "God of Jacob." This is, of course, on top of the fact that it will be the Feast of All Saints, one of the Feasts that has deep meaning for me. I usually tear up during the Litany of the Saints anyway. It's been a while since I was a mess at Mass (for months after Jacob's death I used to hide in the side chapel during Sunday Mass and use many handkerchiefs). I utterly loath weeping in public, no matter how discrete I am about it (and I am very, very good at crying unobtrusively), so I was thrilled when I could finally get through Mass again with no more than a slight moistness about the eyes.

Music in particular gets me. A month or so ago I was ambushed at Mass when I turned to the Offertory Song, and discovered that it was set to the same tune as For The Beauty Of The Earth, which we not only sang at the funeral, but also as we were leaving the hospital for the very last time, having said good-bye to Jacob's body at the door of the elevator before it went down to the operating room for the surgery to retrieve his organs for donation. A rag tag bunch of us, leaving out of the ER entrance in the dark early morning hours long before dawn, walking under the huge arched entryway where ambulances pull up, singing that song acapella and (because we are us) in four or maybe five part improvised harmony, holding hands, and leaning on one another as we went. A rough looking man in a motorcycle jacket was sitting on the curb against one of the pillars smoking a cigarette as we went past. When the song was done he applauded sincerely. And we said thank you, and went home.

I think I've just discovered why I've been so tired the past few days. They warned us that Anniversaries and holidays were going to be difficult. Trust me to have non-standard holidays. Heh.

Ok, enough with the depressing stuff. It's time to go home and get ready for Boy-O's game. I have a phone call to make before I go, and then I'll be off. I'll bring my knitting, sit with my sisters, and have a good time. Tomorrow night I will pass out candy to adorable children, and then go off dancing. And it will be good.

St. Anne

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 05:19:27 GMT

Wordless Wednesday: Better Late Than Never

I'm so excited that I got a Treasury! My very first one! The competition is fierce for these - hundreds of people sitting hunched over their computers all pressing the refresh button compulsively hoping they won't miss that split-second window of opportunity. I've tried for a Treasury before, but always missed my chance. I had almost despaired of ever getting one, and then tonight, oh, tonight, I conquered!

This treasury is especially dedicated to a special friend who has gone through the pain of a break up, and is now slowly beginning the challenging process of learning how to love again.

Also, please, please click on the picture above, which should take you to the Treasury on Etsy! The more unique views the Treasury gets, the more views it is likely to get, and the more likely it is that Etsy will extend its life. So click, my friends, click!

St. Bean

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 02:58:28 GMT

So, um, I'm really proud of my baby brother, Boy-O. He's a Senior this year, playing football for the high school all of us went to (my dad too). He's a starting offensive linesman, a Tight End, which means I can't tell my favorite (only) football joke anymore. (The joke goes, "I don't know anything about football, but I know a Tight End when I see one!" which is kind of funny in general, but not in reference to my baby brother.) Friday was the Senior Appreciation Night, so every one of us who could made our way to the run down stadium in West Carrollton that the school leases for home games, and cheered our heads off for our baby brother. Also, Indy and The Duchess made this banner which they hung on the fence for him. I think it was the best on the fence. For those who are wondering where the "Burrito" comes from, Boy-O's real name is Paul, which at one point became Paulito, and then Paulito Burrito. And the rest is history.

It looks like there might be a lot of high school football in my future. Boy-O's win on Friday means that his team will go to the Prelims for the State Championship. Next Friday is the Big Game with our Archrivals, plus Aunty Cool (who, coincidentally, is an Archrivals alumnus) is coming up from New York just to attend. And then, what with going to State and all... it's a good thing I have a lot of sweaters in appropriate colors that I can wear!

Also this past weekend we had the Theology On Tap party. I'm not sure what to write about that. It was a good party. Some of us ended up staying late and talking politics for a while. However, I'm starting to realized just how many TOT parties I've hosted. They're starting to all blur together in my memory, even the one I just had a few days ago. I did end up doing some of the grilling at this one, which led to the smoke inhalation that is making it a bit more challenging to breathe even as I type, but other than that - it was a good party.

I am starting to think that I have been planning TOT for a very long time. Six years. I'm realizing that, well, I'm tired. It might be time for me to take some time off. I don't know. I think part of it is just being tired out at the end of the season. TOT always takes a lot out of me. But I do have to admit that the prospect of having my Thursday nights actually free is undeniably exciting. So... we'll see. I'll keep you posted.

St. Elfleda

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 20:25:12 GMT

One of my favorite bloggers recently posted a piece about Happy Places, the places where she is happy, or where she remembers being entirely happy. It made me think about what my Happy Places are, and since it's been kindof an, um, interesting week on a number of levels, I thought I'd share. So, without further ado, these are my Happy Places:

My grandparents' house in Ironton, the small Southern Ohio town where I was born: It has been so many years since I was there (they moved into an assisted living facility when I was in 8th grade), but I can still see so many details of that house in my mind. The entry hall with my grandmother's piano against the wall, and the secretary where she wrote all of our birthday cards in her graceful handwriting; the living room with the two rocking recliners where Grandma and Grandpa sat, the oddly textured lamps on the Danish modern end tables, the built in bookshelves with the photo albums and the children's books; the dining room with the low window seat along a wall of windows, the long dinner table that always had all the leaves in so we could sit together, and the small buffet where the serving dishes were kept, and Grandpa's super sharp Japanese knife with its elaborate carved sheath. I could go room by room, telling you about the stained glass lampshade in the kitchen that Grandpa made for Grandma for their anniversary, the phenomenally tidy basement with the floor so clean you could eat off of it, and so much more. I loved every detail of that house. When I was little I thought that was the way a house Should Be, so quiet and clean and orderly, with Grandpa playing his improvised music on the piano downstairs, and chocolate milk to drink whenever I wanted it. That house, in my memory, will always be a Happy Place.
Grand Avenue in St. Paul, MN: for two years I was part of a national traveling youth ministry retreat team that was based out of W. St. Paul. I spent a large chunk of my summer in between my two years of ministry in St. Paul too, and have been back two or three times since. I got to know St. Paul a little bit then, and especially grew to love Grand Avenue. One evening a friend and I walked all the way down from The Green Mile at the top, past the colleges and old houses and quirky shops, into the more trendy shopping area. We looked into windows as we passed, and talked about just about everything. We ended up at Grand Ole Creamery, where we got cones of their fabulous ice cream which we ate slowly as we walked all the way back up again. Every time I go back to the Twin Cities I try to make sure I make it to Grand Avenue at least a little. It will always be a special place to me.
Woodland Altars: I started going to summer camp there when I was - I dunno - fourth grade? Fifth? I don't remember anymore. I just know that the highlight of my summer every year was the drive down into the hills of Southern Ohio with my bags all packed to spend a week at camp. All winter I scrimped and saved every birthday present and babysitting fee to be able to help pay for it. I did Horseback Riding Camp, and Performing Arts Camp, and I don't know what others. To be honest, I wasn't a very happy preteen or teenager, but most of the really good, golden memories of that part of my childhood are from my time at Woodland Altars. To this day, I still think it's one of the most beautiful places on earth.
The breakfront (I think that's what it's called) at McKinley Marina in Milwaukee: When I was 18 I ended up moving to Milwaukee for two years. I lived a few blocks away from McKinley Marina, and one of my favorite things to do was to walk down to the breakfront, and stroll out along the top. On the one side you could turn and look back at Milwaukee's skyline, and on the other you could look out over the Lake, and almost imagine yourself on the shore of the ocean. Standing out at the end with the breeze blowing my hair back away from my face was one of the best places I knew.
Swing dancing: Last Fall there was some fairly bad things happening in my life. They were hard to talk about, and my swing dancing friends ended up being the last ones to know. I was talking about it with Mai, and realized that one of the main reasons I hadn't told her anything about it before was because I mostly saw her at swing dancing, and I didn't want to talk about Bad Things at swing dancing because that was my Happy Place. Not that I'm blissfully happy every moment that I'm there, but there have been so many times when I came to dancing feeling grumpy and mad at the whole world, and left happy and peaceful, ready to go on and deal with whatever was bothering me. Dancing makes everything better. As Mai and I were talking, sitting on the floor at the edge of the dance floor, we looked out across at the dancing couples, at the windows that fog up on humid nights, at the Christmas lights around the DJ booth and the fake fireplace in the corner, I realized how incredibly blessed I am that I have a Happy Place that not a memory or a daydream, but a real, actual place that I physically go to at least once a week.
Eucharistic Chapels: When I was a little kid I used to sneak away as soon as school was over, and go visit Jesus in the Eucharist at the church next to the Catholic school I attended. Catholics believe that Jesus, while present in every time and place, is particularly present in a real, physical way in the bread and wine consecrated at every Mass. Most Catholic churches reserve some of the bread (hosts), and keep them in the Tabernacle, which is found either at the front of the Church or in a smaller chapel specially dedicated to the Eucharist, so that people can come and spend time in a special way with Jesus. I didn't know all that theology then, but I knew that there was something special there, and it drew me. The church wasn't really open, but somehow I discovered that one of the side doors was often unlocked. I would go into the empty church, and spend some time just standing in front of the tabernacle. I don't even know if I prayed, I just knew that I wanted to be there. My brothers and sisters would get so irate when I kept them waiting. They weren't allowed to walk home without me, and they would search all over the school and not find me. When I finally showed up I didn't tell them where I'd been, but would say that I was in the school library or in the bathroom. I don't know why I hid where I'd been, but it seemed like a secret just for me and God. I still go to Eucharistic chapels. One of the things I love about UD is that there are so many. When I was in classes, I went to them between classes. Sometimes I prayed, and sometimes I had to do homework, and, well, sometimes I fell asleep (tired undergrad + quiet, peaceful chapel = snooze). Some people may think doing homework in the Eucharistic chapel is a little sacrilegious, but I always figured that Jesus wants to be part of everything I do, and He didn't mind.

You know the nice thing about Happy Places? It makes me feel better just to think about them.

So what's your Happy Place?

St. Cilinia

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 19:10:01 GMT

Wordless Wednesday: In My Car

It amazes me sometimes how much beauty we see every day.

Yesterday I was driving over to my parents house to pick up Indy, and I kept seeing the most beautiful things. So I tried to take pictures of them.

I quickly discovered that it helped if I didn't try to drive and take pictures at the same time, so these are mostly of whatever beautiful thing was in front of me when I stopped.

The sky, especially, was so beautiful.

It blew me away.

And away again.

How did I get to be so lucky to live in such a beautiful world?

St. Isaac Jogues & Companions

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:29:08 GMT

It is the most beautiful bright and sunny day outside, I don't have work, and the garden is crying out for a little end-of-the-growing-season love, so of course I'm inside blogging. You're welcome. Though truthfully my remaining indoors is not purely from love of my readers. Actually, I have a nasty headache, which doesn't seem to want to go away. Sleeping in didn't do much, though when I finally got around to eating breakfast that helped a surprising amount. We're seeing what pain killers and caffeine will do. I'll let you know how it goes.

This weekend I discovered something kind of awesome. You know that old stereotype of kittens playing with balls of yarn? It's not a stereotype! It's totally true! Really! Friday night our kitten Baby was pestering me something fierce, so I pulled out a spare ball of yarn, and rolled it on the floor towards her (or maybe him). She took off after it, and before I knew it, the living room was one big snarl of yarn with an ecstatically happy kitten in the middle of it. See for yourself:

I should mention that the weird black thing with the white rod sticking through it in the middle of the living room is a display rack my aunt put together when she used to take her beaded bracelets to craft fairs. She thought it might come in handy for me when I start taking my garlands to craft fairs too. I have no idea what to do with it, which is why it was still in the middle of the living room.

The sad part about this is that it looks like we really can't keep Baby. There's the expense of keeping a cat, which is pushing Ani a little farther than she can go, plus Magda just can't seem to get used to having a kitten around. She's so skittish any time Baby comes within four feet of her. She's seriously afraid that Baby's going to jump on her and, I dunno, bite her fingers off? I keep trying to show her how all she has to do is say, "No." and push Baby away, but she just can't do it. Plus, while Johnsy loves having a kitten around, she really isn't ok with having a cat. She says she likes her furniture too much. So if anyone would like a little extra loving in their life, or knows of a warm home where Baby could grow, please let us know.

Also, I got included in an Etsy Treasury! You should go check it out while you can (it will expire in a few days).