Antiphon Recording - Petite

Listen to Petite here.

"Ask, and it shall be given you: seek, and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened to you: for every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened, alleluia."

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

We've just discovered (and tried) a bulk recipe for no-knead artisan bread that is easy AND delicious.  The recipe and procedure is at the Mother Earth News website (I know!).

We've recently tried several different recipes for bread products, but all have fallen short until now.  It's nice to know that this yeasty ball-o'-goodness doesn't have high-fructose corn syrup and preservatives, and did I mention that it's delicious?  Yes, I know I did, but it merits the repeat.

I have some in the oven right now, and it smells so good.

Mmmmmm.........

Selective Reading

I've noticed that some people like to quote, "Those who live by the sword shall die by the sword!" all the while contentedly ignoring the whole "Let he who does not have a sword go out and buy one" (Luke 22:36) thingy.

Not to mention, of course, that some saints died by the sword... (shrugs)

Disclaimer: Celestine does, in fact, know that that was not the original meaning of the phrase and blah blah blah.

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time - August 1, 2010

Introit:  O God, Come to My Help
Processional:  Come Down, O Love Divine (BB 460)
Psalm:  Steve
Offertory:  Beautiful Savior (BB 204)
Communion:  Panem de Caelo
Recessional:  Praise to the Lord (BB 201)

KITTY!

As some of you may be aware, I love kitties. I love these kitties especially.







Yes, that's right, I made a blog post just to show my love of British Shorthair kittens.

(anyone who's not Dr. Foosball that knows where my title came from gets a cookie. Hint: it's from a TV show.

EDIT: Blogmistress has reminded me that there are actually two legitimate answers--one is from a TV show from the 90s, and one is from a more recent movie.)

Random Things of the Day

I was thinking about writing something deep and insightful, but never got around to it. Sometimes I think I have Attention Deficit Di--ooh, a Corvette!



So, while I mull over whether to attempt something insightful, I bring you "Random Things of the Day", a new installment in which I bring you...random things. During the day. And sometimes the night. Or something.



A kitten. I love kittens. They're adorable. I just want to give them hugs.



And...yeah. I've got nothing else to say.

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time - July 25, 2010

Introit: here
Processional:  Creator of the Stars of Night (BB 58)
Offertory:  The King of Love My Shepherd Is  (BB 488)
Communion:  Petite
Recessional:  On This Day, The First of Days (BB 728)

Weight Loss Through Removal of Non-Vital Organs

**WARNING** This post discusses gross stuff, so don't read if you're squeamish.

It's been six days since I arrived back home from the hospital.  The crisis came without warning (unless you count discounted symptoms from the last 7 1/2 years), but my recovery is going well and I'm expecting to feel better than ever in a week or so.

The trouble started innocently enough on a Saturday night three weeks ago.  After Saturday night Mass, I usually look at selections for the next weekend and play through the psalm.  As I sat at the piano, I noticed that my stomach was hurting in an unusual way.  The pain got progressively worse through the night, and by 5 a.m., a trip to the ER was in order.

The problem was actually a gall bladder attack with pancreatitis, but the diagnosis was missed because my pain wasn't in the conventional areas.  Additionally, a gall bladder attack causes paralysis of the bowel, so when the cat scan was performed, the ER diagnosed me with an obstructed bowel.  Because of the holiday weekend, the hospital didn't have anyone available to do surgery, so they wished to transfer me to the nearest Big City.  I objected and asked to be transferred to a closer hospital; they obliged after they confirmed that the hospital had an available surgeon.  Thank God they didn't have a surgeon at the local hospital, since I did NOT have a bowel obstruction.  What would they have done after they opened me up?

And things went downhill after that.

Except for remembering that the local priest came to anoint me, the next few days are a blur of tests and the demon opiate painkiller Dilaudid.  And guess what?  Opiates also shut down the bowel.  Great.  That threw off the doctors yet a few more days.  Eventually after the doctors realized that my guts were just fine, thank you very much, they diagnosed (with the help of MORE cat scans) the problem as probably gall bladder.   It was removed, along with ye olde appendix.  Because I hadn't been allowed to eat or drink for a week, I was cleared for food.

Most people who have this surgery need to follow a strict diet at first, and eating the hospital food was like playing Russian Roulette.  My body did not want to heal, and I felt myself slipping further downhill.  Because of vomiting, I was again ordered to have no food or drink.  By now, most of my veins were blown due to careless nurses, and I was experiencing nasty effects from trying to wean myself from the painkillers.  One night in particular was hellish; time was standing still, and I wasn't sure where I was.  Adding insult to injury, my fifth and final roommate not only had sleep apnea, but also was incontinent in both ways; the room was not fresh-smelling.  When the doctor (BTW, a faithful Catholic) arrived the next morning, I expressed my exasperation, and she informed me that I would get no rest while in the hospital; I knew that, but it really made me want to scream.  I insisted on a more modern bed than my 1980's torture device (which she took care of right away),  and she told me that my IV would be removed and an PICC line inserted instead.  With the PICC line, I was able to receive Total Parenteral Nutrition which I believe was the beginning of recovery.  My last hurdle was an annoying fever and a bit of tummy distention.  After a few more days I was allowed to come home.  


At home I was able to control what went in my mouth, and I started to feel better quickly.  Today the doctor said I can eat whatever I want, and there are no activity restrictions.


I really wonder how long I've been dealing with the gall bladder issues; it's been at least seven years since the severe attacks started (which I ignored).  But in retrospect, it may have been nine years; I remember putting on nine pounds in less than two weeks for absolutely no reason.  Being a slim person at the time, I knew something was amiss, but doctors refused to be concerned about it.  Diet and exercise, right? -- that's all you need to maintain your weight.........anyway, since coming home I've continued to drop weight.  Perhaps the liver/bile function is back to what it's supposed to be, and the old bod is processing fat properly.  Time will tell.

I'm so grateful for the visits by both the local priest, Msgr. Myers, and my priest, Msgr. Gaughan, who traveled the distance twice on his day off.  I'm also privileged and blessed to have had literally hundreds of people praying for me, so there was no choice except to recover. 

And if you were one of those people praying for me, THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART.

For TH2

Had a surgery checkup at the hospital today and came across this:

which reminded me of the inimitable Mr. Scampers.  He sure does get around!

Semper Fidelis

For all retired, active and future United States Marines

Prayer Request *Update #3*

*July 7 2010*

The Blogmistress is still in the hospital, but she's doing much better today. The Docs are still doing tests to try to figure out what actually happened, but all the bad stuff has been ruled out, or so I'm told. Thank you all for your prayers; we appreciate it a great deal.

*July 10 2010*

The Blogmistress is still in the hospital; however, the doctors found the source of the problem and operated (a very routine operation that a good deal of the population has) to correct it. She's recovering now, and ought to be able to come home tomorrow. Thank you, everyone, for your prayers. It means a lot to me, and to our family.

*UPDATE July 17 2010*

She's home!

Independence Day

Dear America,

You've had a tough time the past two hundred thirty-four years.





Having gone from thirteen colonies to fifty states (fifty-seven, if you ask Certain Administrative Leader), the United States of America is by no means a perfect country. We've got our share of issues.

But, from the beginning of the country's existence, it has turned out heroes of all races and backgrounds.

That's not to say we don't have our share of villains. (or at least morally ambiguous characters)

But in spite of it all, the United States remains one of the most unique, eclectic centerpoints of modern civilization, for better or worse. And despite what many would like us to believe, it was truly founded as one nation under God.

We've still got our share of issues, due in no small part to the choices that a large portion of the country's citizens have made in regards to our current leadership.

And yet, my dear United States...I still love you.

Because, in spite of the bad, there's still an awful lot of the good around here, and the potential for even more. The Church gained a wealth of saints under oppression; somehow, conflict and troubles manage to bring out both the best qualities and the worst qualities in people. I would not be surprised if this is our generation's tempering--when we American youth are given the opportunity to choose our sides, so to speak, "a chance for us to show our quality". It is under these circumstances that people will either achieve sanctity or fall (and still sometimes achieve sanctity later on). Let's pray that it will come to fruition before the end.

God bless America.



I imagine that independence and freedom smell an awful lot like blood--because blood was spilt to gain it. Requiem aeternam, dear comrades.

Literary Theory: Loving the Unlovable.

I

As I have written before, when it comes to my theory of literature, I believe firmly and wholeheartedly that at its core, a good book ought to convey at least one (though preferably more) essential truth. There is, really, only one Essential truth that is necessary for a book, but the multiple sub-truths that are all a part of the essential truth serve to greatly enrich it.

Today, many people write. I mean that there are many people, all over the world, who have short stories finished and are trying to publish it, and everyone knows an author here and there. When was the last time, though, that a truly, truly great piece of literature was published and successful? Of all of the "modern" literature that I have read, I cannot name one of those authors that I felt, beyond a doubt, to have the potential for literary immortality. That is not to say that I don't think there are good books being published today--on the contrary, I suspect that there are many hidden gems here and there. I simply don't think that they are being particularly widely-read.

One of the worst things known to man where the field of literature is concerned is to finished a four-hundred page book with a feeling of emptiness inside. It's unsettling. It's the way I would imagine it to feel if you finished a lovely Christmas dinner only to feel like you hadn't eaten anything at all.

Another unsettling thing is to read the latest fad novel, and, to think back on it four months later, scratch your head and say, "What was that about, again?"

Literature, in conveying one aspect of Truth or another, is meant to be memorable. It is meant to teach a lesson, to set forth an example that is memorable enough to remain in the memory for years--but it must do this unconsciously.

When I was little, I had a lot of trouble swallowing pills. No, I don't mean bad novels, but I mean real pills, like Advil or tylenol. When I was trying to learn how to take pills successfully, my dear cousin (Hi! :-D ) mentioned that she used to take pills by putting them into a spoonful of cake icing and swallowing it. The offensive Advil in question was tucked in there, amidst all the sugary goodness--quite hidden, but there all the same.

It is in that same way that literature is meant to convey Truth--subtly--beneath the level of initial perception. The truth of the Faith can be effectively conveyed through a good piece of literature--not obviously, but present all the same--and, perhaps, even open minds (who otherwise would not consider the Church twice) to the idea of the fullness of the Truth. To be sure, a good novel is not the skeleton-key to converting the masses--but if it can soften people, even slightly, to the concept of the Truth, then it has fulfilled one of its (many) purposes.

--
II

CAVEAT EMPTOR

Of course, it should go without saying that if Good Things can be conveyed in such a way through literature, bad things also can be conveyed. The good news about that is that if one has this understanding of the purpose of literature--to convey Truth--then one is much more aware of what is being communicated. That is to say--to a well-formed conscience, and with a careful reading, piece of literature should not pose a problem.

--
III

The curious thing, perhaps, is that this figuring of Truth can show up in unexpected places. There are several ways in which literature can show truth, both broad and narrow. On a broad level, a Truth which can be conveyed by any writer of any Faith, there is Good, and there is Evil.

The existence of good and evil is a broad, typically universal truth (let us presume for simplicity's sake that there are no relativists writing any fiction; at any rate, when there is no right and wrong, how is there a protagonist and antagonist?). It can be written effectively by almost any author, and easily conveys the very fundamental truth of good and evil's existence.

Then there are narrower truths, each of which paradoxically contain the broader truth (e.g. the existence of good and evil). Take, for example, love. Books have been written about love--finding it, keeping it, regaining it, etc. ad nauseam. Assuming, of course, that we are referring strictly to real love, then it also contains the existence of good and evil within it--as love itself is a good.

Then, within love, there is self-sacrificial love, the love that dies and dies again, all for the good of another. Dying to give life. As the various little truths--tiny semblances of Christ found in self-sacrificial love--get smaller and smaller, they still contain all the same truths of the broad brush of "good and evil". Paradoxically, the more specific the Truth portrayed, the more of the broad truth it contains.

It is one thing to say "this is a great battle between good and evil!" and quite another to actually portray that battle in the world of subtleties. Any given author nowadays has crafted a book about some epic battle between good and evil, usually with heavy doses of neopaganism and other assorted crockery that would've make the Inklings break out in a fistfight. Yet the more specific a truth that a book contains, the more of the total truth it contains. Because almost any author can write about the broadest of truths, the conflict between good and ill, there is more room for things to go astray. But as it gets more and more specific, and the more complex it becomes, the more Truth it contains. At some point, it becomes clear whether or not a particular Truth is being written of through the eyes of the Church. As a result, it is essential for Catholic writers to be careful in their writings.

(Now, bear in mind, this is not to say that a principle battle between good and evil cannot be written about smoothly, effectively and conveying a great deal more Specific Truth than in other works. For the most part, it depends upon the author.)

In such a way, the subtleties of everyday life can be brought across effectively. Many of the villains of the world are not dark lords, demons of the ancient world--they are Wickhams. There are Saurons, to be sure, filled with greed, hatred and malice, but there are more Wickhams--smooth-talking, persuasive charlatans. Sometimes the battle between good and evil is outward, external--dangerous. Sometimes, though, it is much more subtle.

"To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless." --G.K Chesterton, the "Prince of Paradox"

Sometimes--like in a classic piece of fairy-tale lore--it is choosing to love the unlovable.