Watch Carissa at the Tournament of Roses Parade! - UPDATED AGAIN

Keep your eyes peeled for Carissa and the Ohio University Marching 110; here's the website telling you when and where you can watch the parade.


Here's a lousy YouTube video, but it's better than nothing. Carissa is at 1:02.






And the above is a cut from two networks, graciously edited by Dear Husband.

Solemnity of Epiphany - January 3, 2010

Processional: As With Gladness Men of Old (BB 107)
Offertory: We Three Kings (BB 103)
Communion: Vidimus Stellam ;The First Nowell (BB 102)
Recessional: Songs of Thankfulness and Praise (BB 108)

Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God - January 1, 2010

Mass is Friday at 10 a.m.

Processional: Sing of Mary (BB 715)
Offertory: What Child is This (BB 105)
Communion: Exulta Filia Sion; Of the Father's Love Begotten (instrumental, if there's time)
Recessional: Hark! The Herald Angels Sing (BB 82)

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa (i.e. all car manufacturers):

You did not bring me the Christmas present I asked for (pictured below).



Sincerely,

A Disgruntled Celestine

Car Shown: Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren

And Thus It Begins....

We've successfully avoided the flu until now. I appreciate any prayers you can spare.

Merry Christmas to All!

On this most joyous of Feast Days, I wish you all a wonderful Christmas Season.

Please enjoy this beautiful and personal meditation by TH2.

And then read this charming Nativity story by Terry Nelson at Abbey Roads.

May the Christ Child bless you all.

For a certain set of roommates who shall remain nameless.

Feast of the Holy Family - December 27, 2009- UPDATED

UPDATE: I was wrong. I won't be here after all.


My services are not required for Christmas, but I'm expecting to be back in town for this Mass.

Prelude: Of the Father's Love Begotten (instrumental)
Processional: Angels We Have Heard on High (BB 81)
Offertory: Away in a Manger (BB 83)
Communion: Fili Quid Ficesti
Recessional: Joy to the World (BB 79)

Communion antiphon for 4th Sunday of Advent.

I recorded this today for those of you who have to listen to Haugen/Haas et al.

Ecce Virgo

Behold, the virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel.

1. The heavens show forth the glory of God, and the firmament declareth the work of his hands.
2. Day to day uttereth speech, and night to night showest knowledge.
3. There are no speeches nor languages, where their voices are not heard.
4. Their sound hath gone forth into all the earth: and their words unto the ends of the world.
5. He hath set his tabernacle in the sun: and he, as a bridegroom coming out of his bride chamber, hath rejoiced as a giant to run the way.
6. His going out is from the end of heaven, and his circuit even to the end thereof: and there is no one that can hide himself from his heat.

Christmas Dinner

Every year, it's ham, turkey, chicken. Why serve the same old boring thing? This year, make your New Year's resolution early, and be determined to serve new and unusual foods. That's my plan.

With that in mind, Four of Seven perused the US Army Survival Manual for ideas. I have a pond over the hill, so the following will be perfect!

Turtles. Snapping turtles tend to hide or rest by crawling head first into holes dug into the bank. To locate a turtle in the bank, feel with your feet with your shoes on. When you locate the turtle, reach down and feel for the top of the shell. Grasp the tail, which is located under the serrated edge of shell, and pick up the turtle.

Now them's some tender vittles!

Now if this post makes you angry, don't snap at me. It's hard for me to come out of my shell.

Did you know that turtles have a serrated edge? I actually found that out the stupid way; a few years back, I peered out a window to see a HUGE turtle walking in the yard. I went out to pick it up to show it to the kids. I noticed that adorable serrated edge, but never having seen a snapping turtle before (shudder), I picked him up and carried him as far as I could. It wasn't far; he was heavy and muddy. Being older and wiser now, I will never do something as stupid as picking up a huge snapping turtle again; I'm lucky to have all my fingers.

Conspiracy Theory of New Age Belief: Or, "The Aliens Did It"

As some of you are aware, I love ancient Egypt. Their history is my favorite in all of the ancient world. I've had dreams about excavating in the Valley of the Kings.

That said, you know where I'm coming from when I talk about this article.

Since, after all, I am but a lowly student whose years are few, I will not let my mouth run away, and instead will reproduce pertinent parts of the article and ask pointed questions.

When the Arab Abdullah Al Mamoun finally forced his entry into the chamber in AD 820 - the first entry since the chamber was sealed in some long ago time - he found the coffer entirely empty. Egyptologists assume that this was the final resting place of Khufu, yet not the slightest evidence suggests that a corpse had ever been in this coffer or chamber. Nor have any embalming materials, any fragments of any article, or any clues whatsoever been found in the chamber or anywhere else in the entire pyramid that in any way indicates that Khufu (or anyone else) was ever buried there. How do you know? Were you there? Anyway, embalming materials weren't usually kept in the same chamber. And, mind you, we have no idea if there ARE other chambers that have simply been blocked off in an ingenious way.

The attribution to Khufu of the Great Pyramid is founded solely upon three very circumstantial pieces of "evidence":

the legends told to and reported by Herodotus who visited the pyramids in 443 BC

the funerary complex near the Great Pyramid with inscriptions citing Cheops/Khufu as the reigning pharaoh

in the pyramid itself, on a granite slab above the ceiling of the main chamber, some small, roughly scribbled chalk marks that have a slight resemblance to a hieroglyphic symbol for the name of Khufu. Objection. 'small, roughly scribbled', 'slight resemblance'--very subjective. For instance, I might not be able to tell what the time signature of a piece is because my ear isn't very good, but the Beloved Blogmistress can.
re: the funerary complex. Mortuary temples--what he is talking about--were the location where bodies were embalmed, sometimes visited, and certain rituals might occur (the Opening of the Mouth, etc.). See his comment above--"Nor have any embalming materials...been found in the chamber." That, good sir, is why.

The Great Pyramid is constructed with approximately 2,300,000 limestone and granite blocks. Weighing between 2.5 and 50 tons each, these stone blocks had to be quarried from the earth. Herein lies our first unsolved problem.

In the Cairo museum one can see several examples of simple copper and bronze saws, which Egyptologists claim are like those utilized in the cutting and shaping of the pyramid blocks. These tools present a problem. On the Mohs scale of mineral hardness, copper and bronze have a hardness of 3.5 to 4, while limestone has a hardness of 4 to 5 and granite of 5 to 6.

The known tools would only barely cut through limestone and would be useless with granite. No archaeological examples of iron tools are found in early dynastic Egypt, yet even if they were, the best steels today have a hardness of only 5.5 and thus are inefficient for cutting granite. Experiments have been done, by Zahi Hawass (Egypt's leading Egyptologist) and others. They know how it was done, and that it can be done.

Still further evidence that the dynastic Egyptians did not construct the Great Pyramid may be found in sediments surrounding the base of the monument, in legends regarding watermarks on the stones halfway up its sides, and in salt incrustations found within. Silt sediments rising to fourteen feet around the base of the pyramid contain many seashells and fossils that have been radiocarbon-dated to be nearly twelve thousand years old. Yes, because carbon-dating is always absolutely accurate. (/sarcasm) Though it *can* be very accurate, when it comes to ancient history the results are frequently dubious at best.

Moreover, the author earlier dismissed so easily the "legends reported to and told by Herodotus"--yet here he views "legends regarding watermarks" with far less skepticism. If he could justify this, then it wouldn't bother me so much--but he does not give a citation or an explanation why he finds one set of legends to be less credible than the other.

Further, when the Great Pyramid was first opened, incrustations of salt an inch thick were found inside. While much of this salt is known to be natural exudation from the stones of the pyramid, chemical analysis has shown that some of the salt has a mineral content consistent with salt from the sea. These salt incrustations, found at a height corresponding to the water level marks left on the exterior, are further evidence that at some time in the distant past the pyramid was submerged halfway up its height. "Consistent with" does not necessarily mean 'Is'. My skintone and eye color are both consistent with a being of Nordic descent. However, I have no relatives from that particular region.

Let us turn our attention briefly to the matter of the purpose or multiple purposes of the Great Pyramid, drawing for our discussion on both the exact measurements made by modern scientists and the mythic legends of the remote past. A few facts:

The sides of the pyramid are lined up almost exactly with the cardinal points of the compass. The accuracy of this alignment is extraordinary, with an average discrepancy of only about three minutes of arc in any direction or a variation of less than 0.06 percent.

The Great Pyramid functioned as an enormous sundial. Its shadow to the north, and its reflected sunlight to the south, accurately marked the annual dates of both the solstices and the equinoxes. The basic dimensions of the Great Pyramid incorporate measurements from which the earth's size and shape can be calculated. This is not surprising. During the middle ages, many scientists knew of the earth's size and shape to a fair degree of accuracy.

The pyramid is a scale model of the hemisphere, incorporating the geographical degrees of latitude and longitude. The latitude and longitude lines that intersect at the Great Pyramid (30 degrees north and 31 degrees east) cross more of the earth's land surface than any other lines, thus the pyramid is located at the center of the land mass of the earth (the pyramid is built on the closest suitable site to this intersection). "Closest suitable site". Sounds like coincidence to me...but what do I know?

The original perimeter of the pyramid equals exactly one-half minute of latitude at the equator, indicating that its builders measured the earth with extreme precision and recorded this information in the dimensions of the structure. Altogether these measurements show that the builders knew the exact dimensions of the planet as precisely as they have been recently determined by satellite surveys. "As determined by satellite surveys". ...this sounds to me like the author is slowly leaning towards the usual diatribe of "The Aliens did it!"

Measurements throughout the pyramid show that its constructors knew of the proportions of pi (3.14...), phi or the Golden Mean (1.618), and the "Pythagorean" triangles thousands of years before Pythagoras, the so-called father of geometry, lived. Ancient Egypt was home to one of the most advanced civilizations in the Ancient World. More than one person can come up with pi and the Pythagorean Theorem. And if anyone would, it would be the Egyptians.

Measurements show that the builders knew the precise spherical shape and size of the earth and had accurately charted such complex astronomical events as the precession of the equinoxes and the lunar standstill dates. The minute discrepancies of the lengths of the base of the pyramid (several inches over the 230 meter length of its base) reveal not an error on the part of the builders but an ingenious means of incorporating into the pyramid the "discrepancies" of the earth itself, in this case the flattening of the earth's globe at the poles. Mr. Gray is intentionally including facts which cannot be proven within the context of his article. He does not cite any studies to prove such. Moreover, the "facts" are all designed with the intention of pointing to an extraterrestrial civilization, unless Mr. Gray believes that years before the Egyptians there was a globe-trotting civilization with artificial satellites.

Shafts leading upward from the two main chambers, previously thought to be air shafts for ventilation, have been shown to have another purpose. A miniature electronic robot mechanically crawled sixty-five meters up the shafts and confirmed that the south and north shafts in the Kings Chamber are pointed to Al Nitak (Zeta Orionis) and Alpha Draconis respectively, while the south and north shafts of the Queens Chamber point to Sirius and Orion. This is an archaeological straw man. On the whole, it's fairly irrelevant, and is included just to sound important. If, in fact, the shafts in the chambers do point to stars or constellations or whatever, then it's very interesting but fundamentally irrelevant. Unless you're trying to prove aliens did it.

The scientists conducting this research have shown that the layout of the three pyramids on the Giza plateau precisely mirror the position of the three main stars in the Orion constellation. (While crawling along one of the shafts in the Queens chamber, the robot's cameras photographed a previously unknown closed door that may lead to some hidden chamber.) Ah, yes. The Orion Correlation Theory...first proposed by Robert Bauval, if I recall correctly, who believes firmly that in the area of 10,000 BC there was an extremely advanced "global progenitor civilization".

What does all this mean? Why did the ancient builders of the Giza pyramids, whoever they may have been, encode so much precise mathematical, geographic, and astronomical information into their structures? What was the purpose of the Great Pyramid? This is the same sort of thinking that got people in trouble with "The Da Vinci Code"...

While no authoritative answer can presently be given to this question, two intriguing matters suggest a direction for further inquiry and research. The first has to do with the persistent legends that the Great Pyramid, and especially the main chamber, were used as some sort of sacred initiation center. I'm only going to say this once. The Masons may like to trace their heritage to the Egyptians and Knights Templar all they like, but it is wishful thinking. I can also try to trace my background to Constantine, but that wouldn't make it correct.

According to one legend, students who had first undergone long years of preparation, meditation and metaphysical instruction in an esoteric school (the mythic "Hall of Records" hidden deep beneath the desert sands somewhere near the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx) were placed in the granite coffer of the main chamber and left alone throughout an entire night. Here he goes again placing one kind of legend--even less substantial than the ones told to Herodotus--above the other.

The coffer was the focal point of the energies gathered, concentrated, aimed, and directed at the main chamber by virtue of the precise mathematical location, alignment, and construction of the pyramid. ...energies?

These energies, considered to be especially potent at certain precisely calculated periods when the earth was in a particular geometric alignment with solar, lunar, and stellar objects, were conducive to the awakening, stimulation, and acceleration of spiritual consciousness in the suitably prepared adept. ...something smells funny...it smells like deep-fried New Ageism BS...

Napoleon himself spent a night alone in the chamber. Were you there? This is, to my knowledge, an urban legend and an urban legend alone. Emerging pale and dazed, he would not speak of his powerful experiences, only saying, "You would not believe me if I told you." "There were fields of...poppies..."

A second matter needing further inquiry from the scientific community studying the Great Pyramid - and one that might help explain the subject just discussed - concerns the matter of unexplained energetic anomalies frequently noticed and recorded in the main chamber. Would it be so hard for Mr. Gray to define 'energy'? Geez. What IS it?

In the 1920s, a Frenchman named Antoine Bovis made the surprising discovery that, despite the heat and high humidity of the main chamber, the dead bodies of animals left in the chamber did not decay but completely dehydrated. The stones in the pyramids exude salt, as he pointed out earlier. Salt dries. More specifically, it replaces moisture in flesh with crystals. Natural mummification. What I want to know is...what proof is there? And why was he leaving dead animal corpses in the chamber?

Thinking that there might be some relationship between this phenomena and the position of the main chamber in the pyramid, Bovis constructed a small-scale model of the pyramid, oriented it to the same direction as the Great Pyramid, and placed the body of a dead cat at the approximate level of the main chamber. ...he killed a cat?...

The result was the same. As he had observed in the Great Pyramid, the cat's body did not decay. That's the undead for you.

In the 1960s, researchers in Czechoslovakia and the U.S., conducting limited studies of the geometry of the pyramid, repeated this experiment with the same results. They also found that the form of the pyramid somehow mysteriously kept foods preserved without spoiling, sharpened dull razor blades, induced plants to germinate and grow more quickly, and hastened the healing of animals' wounds. "There was also a strange sort of smoke while they conducted their research. They all felt really happy..."

Other scientists, in consideration of the high quartz content of the granite blocks in the main chamber and the incredible pressures those blocks are subjected to, theorized that the main chamber may have been the focal point of a powerful piezoelectric field; magnetometer measurements inside the chamber indeed showed higher levels than the normal background geomagnetic field. So...speaking as one who has never been the scientific type...it's a giant magnet?

Although much research remains to be done in these areas, legend, archaeology, mathematics, and earth sciences seem to indicate that the Great Pyramid was a monumental device for gathering, amplifying, and focusing a mysterious energy field for the spiritual benefit of human beings. Yes. And please stop smoking whatever it is that you're smoking before you write another article.

Whew. Well, that was exhausting. Oh...for what it's worth, here's an excerpt from a Wikipedia entry on Antoine Bovis.

The Bovis scale, named after a French radiesthesist called André Bovis (1871-1947; also referred to as either Antoine or Alfred by some authors) is a concept used by dowsers and adherents of geomancy to quantify the strength of a postulated "cosmo-telluric energy" inherent in a location.

The unit of the Bovis scale has no known definition and isn't in any way based on physics. The "measurement" consists of the dowser walking around the place with an object (like a pendulum, dubbed "biometer") and declaring the Bovis number. A number of 6,500 is considered "neutral", lower figures affect human "energies" negatively, higher numbers positively. Numbers above 10,000 are in the "ethereal range", considered places of power.

And here's radiesthesia:

Radiesthesia is the paranormal or parapsychological ability to detect "radiation" within the human body. According to the theory, all human bodies give off unique or characteristic "radiations" as do all other physical bodies or objects. Such radiations are often termed an "aura".

A practitioner of radiesthesia believes in his or her ability to detect the interplay of these radiations. Thus radiesthesia is cited as the explanation of such phenomena as dowsing by rods and pendulums in order to locate buried substances, diagnose illnesses, and the like. Some radiesthesia practitioners like Israeli mentalist Uri Geller or German astrologer Alexander Rostamí claim that they can help oil companies to find crude petroleum reserves and other natural resources by using paranormal abilities, but this claim has not yet been proven.

Doesn't that make you trust the author?

I can smell a New Ageist a mile away...

Let's Talk About: Many and Great, by Ricky Manalo, CSP

First, a little background on Father Manalo, taken from the OCP website:

Father Ricky Manalo is a presbyter in the Paulist order, which is dedicated to the ministry of evangelization, reconciliation and ecumenism. An accomplished musician, composer, lecturer and author, he specializes in ritual music, liturgical inculturation and spirituality. His compositions combine accessibility with challenge, continuity with variety and solemnity with joy.

Ricky has served as liturgical director of the Asian/Pacific Apostolate Office of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops and as choir and liturgy director of the Washington Theological Union. He is a graduate of the Manhattan School of Music, where studied under John Corigliano and Ludmila Ulehla and received a bachelor of music in composition. He earned a master’s in theology at the Washington Theological Union in Washington, D.C., with a concentration in word and worship. Recent projects include producing a collection of liturgical music from the Philippines and studying multilingual music in China. He currently is pursuing a doctorate in Asian-American liturgical studies at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley.

So now that you know more about Padre Ricky, let's go over the words to this song that my children have dubbed "The Pocahontas Song", because it sounds like it came directly from the movie soundtrack. My comment are in red.

Verse 1:
Many and great are bearers of the Word: the Christ speaks; the heart seeks. "Great" could mean "great in number", in which case it's redundant because of the previous use of "many", or it could mean "super terrific!", which would run counter to the virtue of humility. I assume here that "Word" means the Holy Bible. "The Christ speaks": true, as well as prophets, apostles, etc. if you're talking about the Holy Bible. "the heart seeks": The heart seeks what?

Gathered as one, we listen to the Word and share the meal of new birth. I've run across this phrase "meal of new birth" before, probably in another song. I'm always open to being wrong about these things, so I pulled out my handy Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraphs 1328 to 1332. The following are listed under "What is this Sacrament Called": Eucharist, The Lord's Supper, Breaking of Bread (italicized in the Catechism), Eucharistic assembly, memorial of the Lord's Passion and Resurrection, Holy Sacrifice, Holy and Divine Liturgy, Sacred Mysteries, Most Blessed Sacrament, Holy Communion, the Holy Things, the bread of angels, bread from heaven, medicine of immortality, viaticum, and Holy Mass. That "meal of new birth" thing must be in a missing paragraph. Notify the Vatican at once!

Refrain: The wheat grows from spring-time to fall; the wine flows: in Christ we recall the sharing of our lives with one and all. Give Ricky an A+ in Agricultural Studies. And by the way, "the wine flows" due to its viscosity, but I'm not sure how this fits into the lyric. "in Christ we recall the sharing of our lives with one and all": I don't even know where to begin with this one.......okay, I'm taking a big breath......"sharing of our lives with one and all". One and all? Isn't "one" included in the "all"? Why, yes it is. I'm also not sure about this life-sharing thing; Does this mean talking about ourselves to everyone? Social work? Blood donation? Whatever it means, we're supposed to recall it in Christ. It's great to meditate upon things in Christ, whatever those things are, so I'll let that part go.

Verse 2:
Many and great are seeds upon the field: the hand sows; the seeds grow. Now we're getting somewhere with this "many and great" thing. It must mean quantity. Hows about we change these parts of the verses to "Many, great, much, and a whole bunch"? "The hand sows": possible, but with modern agricultural advances (and we've already given Ricky an A+ in this area), the seeds could be machine-sown. "The seeds grow": the seed germinates, then the primary root grows. But that's getting a wee bit technical, I suppose.

Take now and eat the covenant fulfilled, the bread of promise and life. Yes, Jesus is the "Bread of Life", but since this generation is lacking basic catechesis, I don't care for Him being referred to as "bread of promise and life". He didn't even capitalize the "B" in bread! I have heard even our catechists refer to Him as "the bread" when preparing the First Communion class. I find this offensive and heretical.

Verse 3:
Many and great are voices of despair: the rain falls; the voice calls. Suddenly things have taken a turn for the worse! Even the rain is falling.......wait a doggone minute: I LOVE the rain! Rain=good! But what's that I hear....I think it's a voice calling. Inside my head. It's telling me to not despair; this song will be over soon.

Take now and drink the wine of hope and care; our cup of blessing we share. I could really use some wine right now.

Verse 4:
Many and great are pebbles in the sand: the sun glows: the wind blows. This song blows.
Take now and spread the Word to ev'ry land, the Word of goodness and hope. Take what now? And which Word to spread? Oh, he's going to tell us: the Word of goodness and hope. Does he mean Jesus, or the Holy Bible? Ambiguity slays me. Or maybe it doesn't.


And that's the first installment of Let's Talk About.

Dreamland

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule-
From a wild clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE–out of TIME.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the tears that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters–lone and dead,-
Their still waters–still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,-
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,-
By the mountains–near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,-
By the grey woods,–by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp-
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,-
By each spot the most unholy-
In each nook most melancholy-
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past-
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by-
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth–and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion
'Tis a peaceful, soothing region-
For the spirit that walks in shadow
'Tis–oh, 'tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not–dare not openly view it!
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.

--Edgar Allen Poe

Advent hymns

There aren't that many to choose from in Breaking Bread. Thanks OCP! I have to resort to repeating some hymns during Advent, although I'm not convinced the congregation knows or even cares. Don't misunderstand; I'm not stressing about it at all.

As I was choosing the next set of hymns, I came across the hymn People, Look East, which uses the Besançon tune. I would really like to sing the tune, but the words are.....funny? Yes, I believe that's the word I'm looking for. My comments are in red.

Verse 1

People, look East.

The time is near

Of the crowning of the year.

Make your house fair as you are able. As you are able? What if I'm arthritic?

Trim the hearth and set the table. .......and make sure the forks are positioned correctly.

People look East, and sing today: Love, the Guest is on the way.

Verse 2

Furrows, be glad, though earth is bare. In some climates, I suppose.

One more seed is planted there; One more? There were other similar ones before?

Give up your strength the seed to nourish I'm beginning to think I don't know what this seed is to which they refer.

That in course the flow'r may flourish. okay, it's another flower seed, right?

People, look East, and sing today:

Love, the Rose, is on the way. So is Jesus the flow'r? But they didn't capitalize "flow'r" I'm so confused!

Verse 3

Stars, keep the watch when night is dim.

One more light the bowl shall brim. oh-kaaaaaaay........not sure what this means.

Shining beyond the frosty weather, I'm a northern girl, but again methinks the tropical folks should feel slighted!

Bright as sun and moon together.

People, look East, and sing today:

Love, the Star, is on the way. The "Star"? Well, it'd better be a big one, because two lines before this one it says "bright as sun and moon together". Since the moon only reflects the sun's light, we can eliminate it from the equation. So this Star must be bigger than our sun. In fact it should be the biggest doggone star up there, if we need to make a comparison.

Verse 4

Angels, announce on this great feast:

Him who cometh from the East.

Set ev'ry peak and valley humming

With the word, the Lord is coming. She rhymed "humming" and "coming"! Wow!

People, look East, and sing today:

Love, the Lord, is on the way.

And here's the kicker, folks; this was written in 1957!

4th Sunday of Advent - December 20, 2009

Processional: O Come, O Come. Emmanuel (BB 36)
Offertory: Creator of the Stars of Night (BB 58)
Communion: Ecce Virgo
Recessional: The Advent of Our King (BB 59)

Got a blood test today......

and NO MORE ANEMIA!! WOOHOO!!!

Proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.

Cultish techniques

Three of Seven and Four of Seven have been looking forward to their Confirmation Youth Retreat next month. Thinking about this has led me to reflect on my own retreat experiences.

When I was a teen, a very close relative came home quite angry about his retreat experience. I remember that he talked about being manipulated. A few years later, I found out exactly what he was talking about; I attended a Christ Renews His Parish retreat. Although the details are fuzzy now, I remember the sleep deprivation, the talks given by former retreat attendants (now "team members") revealing intimate (and damning, so to speak) details of their lives. Of course, confidentiality was required. One woman confessed, in front of a room of teenage girl, a mortal sin she'd committed. We were not her friends; we were only casual (if that) acquaintances. I thought it not right that she'd admitted this in front of us. I'm not faulting her by any means; I'm faulting the retreat process that encourages this kind of thing.

And then, at the moment of peak vulnerability, the letters were brought out. You know -- the lovey, mushy letters from moms, dads, brothers, sisters, grocery store clerks....blah, blah, blah -- all designed to emotionally manipulate the attendee. I have the same reaction to this as my relative: How dare they try to manipulate me like they're the puppetmasters! I'm a human being with God-given dignity!

And so are my children.

Now I'm not saying that retreat leaders have nefarious purposes; they're probably ignorant about the implications of these techniques. Heck - they probably don't even know that these are techniques.

Not having been on any kind of retreat since my teen years, I don't even know how many modern experiences are like this. From things I've read though, Cursillo works this way. And the upcoming Confirmation Retreat is certainly going to be this way.

Or perhaps this is just a personal problem that some of us introverted people have. Maybe the rest of the population is Totally Digging It. Groovy, Baby!

Tired of checking my email for my conducting review

Nope. Still don't have it. Professionalism, anyone? Keeping your word, anyone? Anyone? Beuller?

3rd Sunday of Advent - December 13, 2009

Processional -The Great Forerunner of the Morn (BB 735)
Offertory - The King Shall Come when Morning Dawns (BB 48)
Communion - Dicite
Recessional - Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus (BB 37)

Feast of the Immaculate Conception - December 8, 2009

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Processional - Immaculate Mary (BB 206)
Offertory - The Angel Gabriel from Heaven Came (BB 56)
Communion - Gloriosa
Recessional - Hail Holy Queen (BB 207)

Early December Updates

Well well well. I haven't visited my own blog in some time, so here I am to fill you in on mundane details of my life. And I know you have better things to do, so don't feel obligated to finish reading this post.

First of all, my dear Heresy Hunter (who is brilliant and entertaining, so visit his blog) has asked about my sister, which I sincerely appreciate. She is doing well, considering the trauma she's been through, and there's no further sign of cancer. Right now she's fighting a staph infection, but she'll come through it just fine. She is a tough lady, although a person probably wouldn't guess it because she's so doggone sweet and beautiful! The surgeon told her to expect her recovery to take a year. File THAT one under "things the doctor doesn't tell you until AFTER your procedure".

(The biggest surprise for me under that category was when Three of Seven got a Herbst appliance put over her braces. AFTER it was put on, I was told, "she probably won't be able to put her teeth together for a week." Thanks for letting me know, champ! The truth was, she couldn't bite down or chew anything for a MONTH. Poor thing - she couldn't afford to be tinier than she was. I made lots of smoothies that month.)

I got my grades: A's in everything EXCEPT conducting, in which I received a B+. However, I have serious doubts that the professor has even reviewed the Final video tapes (he wasn't in town during the final). He told us, in writing, that he would have reviews to us by December 3. University grades were sent out December 2. No, I still don't have his review. I DID write to him, however, and express my surprise at my grade. I KNOW I did better than that; I prepared thoroughly and video-taped myself! Sigh.

Last but not least, I had some fun, happy, and joyful medical procedures performed this week that were supposed to be "routine", but really took a LOT out of me. As of today, I'm feeling human again. (Side note: while under anesthesia, I was dreaming that I was auto racing. Funny!)

Speaking of racing, we DID get that Ford Mustang Shelby GT, and we're THRILLED with it. So far, I have managed to not get busted for drag racing or speeding.

2nd Sunday of Advent - December 6, 2009

Processional: Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming (BB 98)
Offertory: Creator of the Stars of Night (BB 58)
Communion: Jerusalem, Surge
Recessional: The Advent of Our King (BB 59)

(Apparent) Rule No. 293 of Regency Writing

Do not refer to your male protagonists by their first names. They are always Mr. X. Never Mr. (name) X. Just Mr. X.

EXCEPTION: If the hero has only one name, being an orphan brought home by your father when you wanted a fiddle, then it is acceptable to call him by whatever that one name is.

COROLLARY: If, in fact, you give your male protagonist a first name along the lines of "Fitzwilliam", perhaps it is better after all to refer to them as Mr. X.*

*Not meant to offend individuals with the first name Fitzwilliam.

Hmmm....

I'm going to start picking up the phone when telemarketers call.

I'll answer, "Oxford Sewage!"

Fall Quarter Home Stretch

I have my conducting final exam tomorrow morning. Had I realized sooner what a valuable tool the video camera was, my quarter would have been less angst-filled. As it is, my confidence has increased significantly, and I hope my grade reflects how much I've improved.

Still, any prayers you have to spare would be appreciated, Dear Readers!

Organ juries went well; I played the Vierne Adagio the best I'd ever done, but the Bach Prelude could've gone better. My hands were shaking pretty severely, and that's NOT good for note accuracy on a very fast piece. The most frustrating thing is that I KNOW I can play it perfectly, and it just doesn't happen in front of people! Bah!! Someday I'll get over this extreme nervousness thing......

A Study in Valor

US Marine Corps Sergeant Rafael Peralta was born on April 7, 1979 in Mexico City. He was the oldest of four siblings born to Rafael and Rosa Peralta, and immigrated to the United States with his family. He joined the USMC as soon as he had a green card, and became an American citizen while serving.

SGT Peralta served the United States with patriotism, enthusiasm and valor. In his parents' home, his bedroom walls were adorned with three items--a copy of the United States Constitution, the Bill of Rights and his graduation certificate from boot camp. Before being deployed to Fallujah, he wrote to his 14-year old brother, "Be proud of me, bro...and be proud of being an American."

On November 15 of 2004, Peralta, while deployed as a scout team leader, was ordered with his team to clear houses in Operation Phantom Fury. Peralta was not assigned to enter the buildings, but chose to do so anyway.

He led his team through a series of house clearings before charging into the fourth house. He found two empty rooms on the ground floor, and upon opening a third door was hit multiple times with AK-47 fire. He dropped to the floor and rolled aside to allow his Marines behind him to return fire.

The insurgents threw a grenade at the Marines. The two Marines with Sgt. Peralta attempted to leave, but could not. Peralta was still conscious on the floor and his teammates report that despite his extensive injuries, he reached for the grenade and pulled it under his body--absorbing the majority of the lethal blast, which killed him instantly but saved the lives of his fellow Marines.

Sergeant Peralta was nominated for the Medal of Honor, but the testimony of doctors stated that he could not have possibly have been conscious enough to have done the heroic action in question, though his teammates swear by it. He received the Navy Cross instead--the Navy's second-highest honor.

Sergeant Rafael Peralta served his country with honor and valor unto death, and is an example for us all.

Semper Fi.

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ the King - November 22, 2009 - UPDATED

Processional: All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name (BB 742)
Offertory: If the choir can pull it together: Come, My Way, My Truth, My Life. On an emergency basis only: At the Name of Jesus (BB 749)
Communion: Antiphon: Sedebit, then probably something instrumental
Recessional: Alleluia! Sing to Jesus (BB 748)

Happy Birthday, Claus!

Claus Schenk Graf von Stauffenberg
15 November 1907 – 21 July 1944

Loyalty

And, well, I don't know WHAT this is:

Happy Veteran's Day!

"Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival." --Winston Churchill

God bless you all.

Thank you, God...

...Thank you to all the saints to whom I desperately prayed during those harrowing hours of The Test Of Doom (also known as the ACT, and the very reason I asked for your prayers way-back-then). Thank you, thank you, thank you. And thank you, blogreaders, as well, for your prayers.




And thank you to this young man, who I'm convinced had a hand in helping me out of this wretched mess of a test.

With God as my witness--I love life.

Now, I just have to survive the PT.

28, people. I got a 28.

33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time - November 15, 2009

Prelude: O Mensch Bewein Dein Sunde Gross
Processional: The King Shall Come When Morning Dawns (BB 48)
Offertory: Tunes 3 and 4 from Archbishop Parker's Psalter (Thomas Tallis)
Communion: Amen Dico Vobis QuidQuid; What Wondrous Love Is This (BB 431)
Recessional: To Jesus Christ, Our Sovereign King (BB 740)
Postlude: something by Bach

Carissa will be Conductor for the Tallis.

This is our last choir Sunday of Fall Quarter. Great job everyone! May God bless you and protect you during Winter Break, and I'll see you in January.

UPDATE: It would seem I'm getting a little ahead of myself. NEXT weekend will be the last weekend we sing together. This is a sign of how much I want the quarter to be over. :)

By the Babe Unborn

If trees were tall and grasses short,
As in some crazy tale,
If here and there a sea were blue
Beyond the breaking pale,


If a fixed fire hung in the air
To warm me one day through,
If deep green hair grew on great hills,
I know what I should do.


In dark I lie: dreaming that there
Are great eyes cold or kind,
And twisted streets and silent doors,
And living men behind.


Let storm-clouds come: better an hour,
And leave to weep and fight,
Than all the ages I have ruled
The empires of the night.


I think that if they gave me leave
Within that world to stand,
I would be good through all the day
I spent in fairyland.


They should not hear a word from me
Of selfishness or scorn,
If only I could find the door,
If only I were born.

--G.K Chesterton

Mythopoeia

You look at trees and label them just so,
(for trees are 'trees', and growing is 'to grow');
you walk the earth and tread with solemn pace
one of the many minor globes of Space:
a star's a star, some matter in a ball
compelled to courses mathematical
amid the regimented, cold, inane,
where destined atoms are each moment slain.

At bidding of a Will, to which we bend
(and must), but only dimly apprehend,
great processes march on, as Time unrolls
from dark beginnings to uncertain goals;
and as on page o'er-written without clue,
with script and limning packed of various hue,
an endless multitude of forms appear,
some grim, some frail, some beautiful, some queer,
each alien, except as kin from one
remote Origo, gnat, man, stone, and sun.
God made the petreous rocks, the arboreal trees,
tellurian earth, and stellar stars, and these
homuncular men, who walk upon the ground
with nerves that tingle touched by light and sound.
The movements of the sea, the wind in boughs,
green grass, the large slow oddity of cows,
thunder and lightning, birds that wheel and cry,
slime crawling up from mud to live and die,
these each are duly registered and print
the brain's contortions with a separate dint.
Yet trees are not 'trees', until so named and seen
and never were so named, till those had been
who speech's involuted breath unfurled,
faint echo and dim picture of the world,
but neither record nor a photograph,
being divination, judgment, and a laugh
response of those that felt a stir within
by deep monition movements that were kin
to life and death of trees, of beasts, of stars:
free captives undermining shadowy bars,
digging the foreknown from experience
and panning the vein of spirit out of sense.
Great powers they slowly brought out of themselves
and looking backward they beheld the elves
that wrought on cunning forges in the mind,
and light and dark on secret looms entwined.

He sees no stars who does not see them first
of living silver made that sudden burst
to flame like flowers beneath an ancient song,
whose very echo after-music long
has since pursued. There is no firmament,
only a void, unless a jewelled tent
myth-woven and elf-patterned; and no earth,
unless the mother's womb whence all have birth.
The heart of Man is not compound of lies,
but draws some wisdom from the only Wise,
and still recalls him. Though now long estranged,
Man is not wholly lost nor wholly changed.
Dis-graced he may be, yet is not dethroned,
and keeps the rags of lordship once he owned,
his world-dominion by creative act:
not his to worship the great Artefact,
Man, Sub-creator, the refracted light
through whom is splintered from a single White
to many hues, and endlessly combined
in living shapes that move from mind to mind.
Though all the crannies of the world we filled
with Elves and Goblins, though we dared to build
Gods and their houses out of dark and light,
and sowed the seed of dragons, 'twas our right
(used or misused). The right has not decayed.
We make still by the law in which we're made.

Yes! 'wish-fulfillment dreams' we spin to cheat
our timid hearts and ugly Fact defeat!
Whence came the wish, and whence the power to dream,
or some things fair and others ugly deem?
All wishes are not idle, nor in vain
fulfillment we devise -- for pain is pain,
not for itself to be desired, but ill;
or else to strive or to subdue the will
alike were graceless; and of Evil this
alone is deadly certain: Evil is.

Blessed are the timid hearts that evil hate
that quail in its shadow, and yet shut the gate;
that seek no parley, and in guarded room,
though small and bate, upon a clumsy loom
weave tissues gilded by the far-off day
hoped and believed in under Shadow's sway.

Blessed are the men of Noah's race that build
their little arks, though frail and poorly filled,
and steer through winds contrary towards a wraith,
a rumour of a harbour guessed by faith.

Blessed are the legend-makers with their rhyme
of things not found within recorded time.
It is not they that have forgot the Night,
or bid us flee to organized delight,
in lotus-isles of economic bliss
forswearing souls to gain a Circe-kiss
(and counterfeit at that, machine-produced,
bogus seduction of the twice-seduced).
Such isles they saw afar, and ones more fair,
and those that hear them yet may yet beware.
They have seen Death and ultimate defeat,
and yet they would not in despair retreat,
but oft to victory have tuned the lyre
and kindled hearts with legendary fire,
illuminating Now and dark Hath-been
with light of suns as yet by no man seen.

I would that I might with the minstrels sing
and stir the unseen with a throbbing string.
I would be with the mariners of the deep
that cut their slender planks on mountains steep
and voyage upon a vague and wandering quest,
for some have passed beyond the fabled West.
I would with the beleaguered fools be told,
that keep an inner fastness where their gold,
impure and scanty, yet they loyally bring
to mint in image blurred of distant king,
or in fantastic banners weave the sheen
heraldic emblems of a lord unseen.

I will not walk with your progressive apes,
erect and sapient. Before them gapes
the dark abyss to which their progress tends
if by God's mercy progress ever ends,
and does not ceaselessly revolve the same
unfruitful course with changing of a name.
I will not treat your dusty path and flat,
denoting this and that by this and that,
your world immutable wherein no part
the little maker has with maker's art.
I bow not yet before the Iron Crown,
nor cast my own small golden sceptre down.

In Paradise perchance the eye may stray
from gazing upon everlasting Day
to see the day illumined, and renew
from mirrored truth the likeness of the True.
Then looking on the Blessed Land 'twill see
that all is as it is, and yet made free:
Salvation changes not, nor yet destroys,
garden nor gardener, children nor their toys.
Evil it will not see, for evil lies
not in God's picture but in crooked eyes,
not in the source but in malicious choice,
and not in sound but in the tuneless voice.
In Paradise they look no more awry;
and though they make anew, they make no lie.
Be sure they still will make, not being dead,
and poets shall have flames upon their head,
and harps whereon their faultless fingers fall:
there each shall choose for ever from the All.

--J.R.R Tolkien, Mythopoeia, a rebuttal to C.S Lewis

A Healthy Dose of Chesterton a Day...

The gates of heaven are lightly locked,
We do not guard our gold,
Men may uproot where worlds begin,
Or read the name of the nameless sin;
But if he fail or if he win
To no good man is told.

The men of the East may spell the stars,
And times and triumphs mark,
But the men signed of the cross of Christ
Go gaily in the dark.

The men of the East may search the scrolls
For sure fates and fame,
But the men that drink the blood of God
Go singing to their shame.

The wise men know what wicked things
Are written on the sky,
They trim sad lamps, they touch sad strings,
Hearing the heavy purple wings,
Where the forgotten seraph kings
Still plot how God shall die.

The wise men know all evil things
Under the twisted trees,
Where the perverse in pleasure pine
And men are weary of green wine
And sick of crimson seas.

But you and all the kind of Christ
Are ignorant and brave,
And you have wars you hardly win
And souls you hardly save.

I tell you naught for your comfort,
Yea, naught for your desire,
Save that the sky grows darker yet
And the sea rises higher.

Night shall be thrice night over you,
And heaven an iron cope.
Do you have joy without a cause,
Yea, faith without a hope?

--G.K Chesterton, Ballad of the White Horse, book I

This is poetry week, or so I've decided. I will post random snippets of (mostly British) poetry during this week. And maybe next week. And the week after. Expect Chesterton.

Dear God....

If you really want me to conduct choirs for Your glory, will you please give me a little talent for the job? Thank you.

32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - November 8, 2009

Processional: Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow (BB 573)
Offertory: Lord of All Hopefulness (BB 393)
Communion: Dominus Regit Me; The Living God My Shepherd Is (BB 485)
Recessional: Holy God, We Praise Thy Name (BB 202)

Happy Feast of All Saints!

On this Feast of All Saints, I ask all of my five (or so) readers to please pray and ask the saints' prayers for my sister Jeanie, who is undergoing a double mastectomy tomorrow. Thank you, and may God's richest blessings be upon you all.

Packing List

Before I leave for choir tomorrow, I have to remember to pack up my things. Halloween in Liberalville USA gets a little crazy, you know? I mean, there are plenty of zombies *anyway*, but they show up in great hordes especially on Halloween. So peace-loving (nervous grin here) citizens like myself who wish to remember the lives and deaths of saintly beings have to be prepared.
Anyway, here's my packing list. If anyone else wants to use it, feel free. I think we could all use these.



The M-16A4 is a very good option for when Zombies come out.



Good for female vampires. If someone looks a bit suspicious, offer them a mirror to fix their lipstick with. Observe reaction.



Another goodie. Of course, it not only scares away vampires, it'll also scare away your closest friends, depending on how much you've eaten.



The Wooden Stake, a staple of mine (not to be ironic). With modern medicine, sometimes it's best to ask questions later--if it's a vampire, the staked should be gone. If it's a person, I dunno...do open-heart surgery or something.



Great for the local werewolves. You can also load these particular silver bullets into the M-16, but that'll make your zombie-smashing a bit pricier. I'd save the silver bullets for the werewolves and give the zombies standard issue, if I were you.



Another favorite of mine. Magically repels vampires, zombies, werewolves, reanimated corpses and liturgical dancers.



Won't kill any of the baddies, but they'll scream like heck. I recommend for special use on politicians.



An absolute necessity if you're expecting vampires and werewolves. Also works for the occasional politician-zombie that occasionally lumbers onto the scene.

My Halloween Costume

Scaredja, didn't it?

Celestine's Winning Story

Celestine entered the local newspaper's annual Halloween Story Contest, and she won in her category (Grades 9 through 12). It was published in this morning's paper, but you can read it here for free.

“Flowers for Amelia”

The delivery man glanced at the pile of mail. He approached the door, but before he could knock it was opened hurriedly by a tall blonde woman wearing a string of pearls and wringing her hands.

“Jacob!” she cried, stepping out onto the patio, “Do you have anything for me?”

He sighed. The socialite was Lydia Cunningham, a former high school beauty queen who had married high up in the food chain and now lived in a house about seven times too big for herself and her oft-absent husband.

He shook his head, “A few catalogs and a bill, ma’am.”

She visibly deflated, and said in a smaller voice, “Oh, well then. Thank you.” With an emphatic thunk she threw the mail to the floor and gave it a stomp with her pink-heeled foot before marching off to the kitchen.

For the past six months her best friend, Amelia Leonard, had been giving her the proverbial cold shoulder. No mail at all—not even an invitation to a party. Neither of them used email, since they were women of luxury—they preferred to indulge in the almost antiquated snail-mail system that spanned Lydia’s gated community and Amelia’s suburb.

They had been best friends since eighth grade, when Amelia helped Lydia study for her science final exam. Amelia stayed up until five in the morning, trying to help Lydia, then turned up at class the next morning, paralyzed from exhaustion, and failed the test —a calamity that might have been avoided had she slept. For that Lydia felt a twinge of guilt, but ever since then, they had been best friends. Throughout their high school and college years, whenever one of them went shopping or to a movie, the other went along. Nigh inseparable, it had lasted them these twenty-four years. Until six months ago.

Lydia felt depressed. She glanced morbidly at her selection of fine wines, and then decided against it. They were too expensive to waste on drowning one’s sorrows. I wonder what I did? She thought to herself.

As she thought, however, it occurred to her that she wasn’t the one to be blamed for their lack of communication—Amelia was. It was her fault, not Lydia’s. Why should I feel sorry? She mumbled, irritated, “I wasn’t the one who started ignoring my best friend.”

But the next morning, after a night of a splendid cocktail party and the opera (Lucia di Lammermoor), Lydia woke up feeling acutely lonely. Her face brightened, though there was no one to see it. “I know!” she exclaimed as she leapt out of bed. She grabbed her phone and dialed the flower shop eagerly. Amelia always did love flowers!

Jon Carter looked over his deliveries. He picked up the next one on his list, and read it aloud, “Amelia Leonard, 3222 Pickford Drive.” He frowned. He wasn’t familiar with that road. He drove a bit more slowly than usual, and at last came to a large gate, which automatically opened as he neared. There sat a sign—Magdalene Cemetery.

His blood ran cold.

He recounted his words with Lydia Cunningham: “Say hello to Amelia for me!”

He shuddered, and walked around. The cemetery was scenic in its own right, with many hills and all the headstones very orderly. His eyes wandered to a headstone at the foot of an oak tree, and he jumped back slightly. It read,

AMELIA LEONARD
JULY 3 1970-DECEMBER 21 2008

He numbly fingered the notecard that came with the flowers:
Hi Amelia! I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused. I want to make amends. Call me! :)

In Honor of Certain Writers...

The girl staggered. Her throat was dry and constricted, as if icy talons were clutching at her and trying to strangle the life out of her. There was a faint shriek.
The poor girl had never faced horror like this. She wished, desperately, that she could faint clean away, and so would not have to continue on in this manner.
The sight of such bad writing made her eyes burn with pain, and terror seized her. She could barely move her legs to run, and her eyes grew wider still as she read on in spite of herself.
She began to cry, and her tears were blood red. Was it actually blood, or was it a mere phantom of the horrors she was witnessing?
At last, her heart pounding in her chest, she threw the newspaper down and began convulsing violently. The poor, dry prose; the overblown and formulaic gore had done her in. Yes, it was true--Miss Celestine had been killed by bad writing.

Then, of course, the paramedics arrived, and after a nice high voltage circulated through her chest and restored the thumpity-thump to the thumper, she stood back up and began writing this post.

There is an affliction in the world of writing; an affliction which can be summed up as "crap". This is most commonly found, it appears, in thrillers or horror novels or romance novels. In other words, in 99% of novels.
I call this "Dan Brown syndrome". It is a syndrome which says that if you overlay visceral descriptions over and over (in horror novels, this involves blood, gore and fear in ridiculous quantities. You know, the kind where you actually wish that the person that's scared would just die so that we don't have to listen to the descriptions any more) you'll have a novel. There's nothing wrong with formulas per se, but they are so frequently abused that sometimes you get:

The Da Vinci Code, opening sentence: Renowned curator Jacques Saunière staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand Gallery.

Angels and Demons, opening sentence: Physicist Leonardo Vetra smelled burning flesh, and he knew it was his own.

Deception Point, opening sentences: Death, in this forsaken place, could come in countless forms. Geologist Charles Brophy had endured the savage splendor of this terrain for years, and yet nothing could prepare him for a fate as barbarous and unnatural as the one about to befall him.

...
yes. My point. It is there.
It makes me long for the days of:

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Is there a patron saint of writing? Chesterton, perhaps.

P.S If I ever write a novel and it sounds remotely like you-know-who, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF HUMANITY grab a shovel and hit me over the head with it.

Solemnity of All Saints - November 1, 2009

Processional: For All the Saints (BB 736)
Offertory: How Firm a Foundation (BB 734)
Communion: Notas mihi, Listen Here; then Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (BB 532)
Recessional: Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones (BB 733)

How about chanting the Dies Irae as a prelude?

Prayer Request UPDATE

'Ello, peoples. I suppose I should update you all on my first test that may or may not decide my fate.

I think I did very well on part of it, and blew the other part. I'm hoping, though, that I aced it more than I blew it, though, so that it'll balance out.

I still have one more test of a decidedly different nature and an interview coming up. Prayers for those are appreciated as well.

On a completely different (not really) note, I've been having technical issues with an online application. I've tried to find technical help, but the website does not give a phone number. So I've been searching in vain for techies to help me out, since my own inclination is to stare things into submission (which usually doesn't work with electronics. Works with people, though). And I have yet to find one.

So, if my good choirpeoples could please pray for that as well, I would most appreciate it.

Believe me. Someday, all this will make sense. Really, it will.

...or maybe not.

In the meanwhile, enjoy this picture. I saw one of these today. It gave me warm fuzzy feelings inside.



Funny story: Four cadets were operating this beautiful creation of man (also known as the Humvee Avenger, an Air Defense Artillery vehicle that has been known to scare terrorists out of their jihadi socks). Two were standing by the front, one was in the driver's seat and one was in the turret. The turret can also be controlled by a control-panel usually located inside the vehicle, but in this case it had been brought out so that the two standing beside the Avenger could control it to show people things. One cadet gave a grin and pressed the toggle-switch to the side, spinning the turret around--with his buddy still sitting inside. After about six full rotations, he stopped.
I can't imagine his turret-sitting comrade was very happy about that.

New music list for Saturday, October 24, 2009

We're having a visiting priest, Fr. Leonard Cencula, this weekend, and here's what he's expecting:

#221 Holy, Holy, Holy
#624 For The Beauty Of The Earth
Communion antiphon
#553 Praise The Lord, Ye Heavens

It's also Parents' Weekend at OU.

Prayer Requests

As some of you may be aware, I'm rapidly approaching Hell Week. Hell Week is thus named because within this particular week I have much studying, two meetings to attend, two major tests to take and an interview during which I must impress the interviewer. Not to mention, of course, the fact that these two tests and interview will almost certainly dictate the next 4 years of my life.

So. That being said...

Pray. For me, that is. Please. I need it terribly. I have to pass muster, or else my plans are back to squat. If I don't, then I'll probably have a heart attack. So either way I really need your prayers. Anything helps. A "Please, God, help this girl get what she needs so she'll shut up" is actually far more helpful than you'd realize.

I should find out results from all this crap I'm going through around the end of December. So until then, I'm going to be a bundle of nerves.

Secretive? Me? No, not at all.

But once again, I entreat, I beg you all--pray for me.

A Tale of Homecoming

Last weekend was homecoming weekend. And, of course, there was the parade with all the (literal) fanfare.

It was quite cold; in fact, my fingers were so cold that I could not unbutton the pockets of my jacket without staring straight at them and trying to coordinate fingers which I could not feel. I was, however, otherwise quite warm--with the exception of my nose--due to a long-sleeved shirt, a short-sleeved shirt and a used BDU jacket, complete with camouflage.

This particular jacket, possibly due to its origins, is not the kind of thing that makes you toasty-warm, but wind, however piercing, does not cut through it and it is practically indestructible. Thus, with a good layer underneath, it is remarkably good for cold weather.

My thoughts, you see, were wholly practical. While I know that in some places (this town not really being one of them, though they have *other* objections to this pattern) camouflage is thought of as being gang-related, I hardly look much like a gangster, especially with my then-freezing-white fingers and young siblings picking up candy. All the same, a strange thing occurred.

I was avoided.

It was painfully obvious, considering these people were offering pamphlets and brochures to anyone with hands, and while being very in-your-face with everyone else, made sure to avoid me as if I had a circle of protection with a three-foot radius around me. I would lie if I said I was not pleased in a way--whenever people hand out brochures and such, I never have anywhere to put them, and usually they are of a matter that is of importance only to about five or six people in the entire city.

All the same, I thought it very queer. (not like that, you genius you) After all, heaven knows that at the Fourth of July parades, in spite of the fact that I'm carrying a hat, a bag and occasionally my sibling's jacket, I am bombarded with advertisements and information packets about Issue No. 32004958305032902359035.

Kids have it off better. We old folk get paper, while *they* get candy!

Regardless, I pondered it a great deal.

Given that we live in Liberalville USA, Land of the Free Because Someone Else Died For It, I wondered if maybe--just maybe--the former history of my jacket bothered them.

Note to Self:

This

is afraid of

This.

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time - October 25, 2009

Prelude: Something Bach-ish
Processional - Now Thank We All Our God
Offertory - maybe Come, My Way, My Truth, My Life (choir only)
Communion - Laetabimur (I've never seen a ledger line on a chant before!) (Listen Here), Adoro te Devote
Recessional - O God, Our Help in Ages Past
Postlude: Prelude in C Major, BWV 547 (J.S. Bach)

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time - October 18, 2009

Processional: Praise, My Soul, The King of Heaven (BB 563)
Offertory: Abide With Me (BB 642)
Communion: antiphon - Domine Dominus, Panis Angelicus
Recessional: I Sing the Might Power of God (BB 416)

We've not done "Abide With Me" before. I've not heard it done before this quarter, so it was totally off my radar. However, it's one of the hymns we've used in my Choral Conducting class, and I was surprised to see it in our book. If we can manage it in SAT(B), that'll be awesome.

Recordings from 10/9/09 Practice

Check out the progress since last week.

Jesu, Rex Admirabilis

Oculus Non Vidit

Beauty of Antiquity pt 3

Greek temples. Somewhat obviously.

SNL highlights Obama's Accomplishments

Just kidding!!

Catholic Caveman has the post.

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time - October 11, 2009

Processional: Praise the Lord, Ye Heavens, Adore Him (BB 553)
Offertory: Jesu, Rex Admirabilis
Communion: antiphon - Aufer a Me, Oculus Non Vidit
Recessional: The King of Kings, Christ Jesus Reigns (BB 745)

Vinegar at the Crucifixion

Please get on over to The Anchoress and read this post. Good Stuff!

Bishop Vasa Convicts Me AGAIN!

Purity of intention, key to spiritual life, takes practice | Catholic Sentinel

Shared via AddThis

Recordings from 10/1/09 Practice

The only one of these being done this Saturday night is the Communion Antiphon.

Both Jesu! Rex Admirabilis and Oculus non vidit will be done next weekend, so we'll have another week to practice them.

What would YOU do?

If there was, hypothetically speaking, an insanely beautiful NEW 2008 (been setting in a showroom since then) Ford Mustang Shelby GT (NOT a Cobra) with 95 miles, that was originally $40K+, and had been marked down to $28K to get rid of it....would you be tempted? Leave purely hypothetical advice in the com box.

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time - October 4, 2009

Processional: Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee (BB 555)
Offertory: All People that On Earth Do Dwell (BB 313)
Communion: antiphon (In Salutari), then some Couperin- "Elevation" on the organ
Recessional: I Sing the Mighty Power of God (BB 416)