Life is Just Funny Sometimes

I got a phone call last night from the mom of one of Becky's friends who wanted my potato salad recipe. Her daughter told her that I made the best potato salad and that's what she wanted for Thanksgiving. In fact, I could hear her daughter in the background while we talked on the phone telling me that she would PAY me if I made her a bowl of potato salad! I don't really have a recipe for it because it is just too simple - potato, maybe some boiled egg, mayo, mustard, onion, celery and salt and pepper. I just sort of wing it until it looks and tastes right. My family likes it. So anyway, I start telling Mrs C what I do. When I got done, she asked if I used real mayonnaise. Yes, I do. Well, she says, I can't do that. I have high cholesterol, so I'll just leave that out. Ummm, okaaay. Then she asked me if put lemon juice in it. No, I don't. But she likes lemon juice so she thinks that she'll put that in. She asked me about the amount of onion. We like onion, so we put quite a bit in. Her husband won't eat onion, so she is going to leave that out too, but she can't wait to make my potato salad recipe - minus the mayo and the onion and with lemon juice. It'll be just like mine, except for the crucial ingredients that she is leaving out and the addition she is putting in. Practically identical.

A little boy at work was so excited to see the big picture of Mary that is hanging on the wall behind our register. "Look Mommy" He pointed excitedly, "See the Godmother!" Amazing how this child understands the whole concept of Theotokos.

Today I had an elderly lady who was wanting a statue of St Benedict. All we had was a small pewter statue and that wasn't good enough. I offered to look in some catalogs to see if we could order one. None of our suppliers offer a St. Benedict statue. I showed her the catalogs and was apologetic. Then she asked if "that man" (my boss) was there. Yes, he was, but he was on the phone. Well, she said. I'd rather talk to him. You don't know what you are doing and HE does. Truthfully, he does know more about his business than I do and that is only natural. However, we cannot sell an item that isn't being made. She got out a holy card of St Benedict and said"See! This is what he looks like!" with the implication that now that I know, I should be able to find a statue somewhere. I am pretty familiar with St Benedict and wouldn't mind a statue of him myself. But if they aren't made, they aren't made. St Benedict wall crosses we have. St Benedict cross necklaces we have. Books on Benedictine spirituality we have and books on St Benedict and St Scholastica we have. And we have a pewter statue. She left the store totally disgusted with my stupidity.

Today Becky brought home a letter and two cards for a certain national brand of sugar coated, deep fried doughnuts. For her 8th grade trip, we are to sell these cards for $10.00 Then you will be able to walk into one of their stores, purchase one dozen of these fat-drenched goodies and take another dozen of them home for FREE! Because what family couldn't use 24 of these little golden delights to send you on your way to a diabetic coma. Seriously - two dozen of them??? At once? If you don't sell 18 (!!!) of them, you can buy your way out for $90.00(!!!) Now, if they were being sold to fund a mission trip or a project (such as Habitat for Humanity), well, ok. I could see that. But they are being sold to send mostly upper middle class teens to Great America. @@ Oh my. But I'm NOT bitter over this. Really. How could I be? There is too much sugar involved to be bitter.

Just A Word To The Wise

Just so you know, I moderate comments for a reason. I will NOT publish any comments that are trying to sell prescription drugs or that link to an unknown website. Don't even try.

The sad thing is that the people who try this won't even read this blog and probably have never read this blog. They are just spreading the spam indiscriminately. It really irritates me.

Anyone else have this problem?

Apostle of the Exiled

My latest review for The Catholic Company is Apostle of the Exiled: St. Damien of Molokai by Margaret and Matthew Bunson. I found it to be an interesting book.

Prior to reading this book, here is what I knew about Damien of Molokai:
1. He was a priest
2. In Hawaii
3. He worked at a leper colony
4. He got sick and died.
That perhaps is a little simplistic, but it is a fairly accurate summation of my knowledge. However, I was always interested in his story so I jumped at the chance to review this book.

The book begins with a little background about Catholic missions in Polynesia in general and in Hawaii, specifically. Catholics were looked down upon in the early days of American occupation of the Hawaiian islands. Protestant missionaries were welcomed, but Catholic missionaries were kept out - literally. Ships were not allowed to dock and it took a brave French sea captain to change all that. He threatened war, with the backing of the French government, if ships carrying Catholic priests were turned back. Grudgingly, the American backed Hawaiian government acquiesced.

Joseph de Veuster was born in Belgium, the seventh child of a farming family. His elder brother, Auguste, became a priest and young Joseph wanted to follow in his footsteps. A problem arose, however, in that while Joseph was very strong, he wasn't believed to be very bright. Joseph had to prove himself to his superiors by learning Latin in a short time, as taught by his brother. He was finally allowed to begin his studies.

His brother, Father Pamphile (Auguste) was to be sent on a mission to Hawaii when he became quite ill and was unable to make the trip. Joseph, now known as Damien, volunteered to take his place.

Damien landed in Hawaii in 1864 after a four month voyage at sea. On arrival, he continued his studies and was finally ordained a priest in May of 1864. His first assignment was as an assistant to a veteran missionary. He was an indefatigable worker, beginning building projects, making candles, growing tobacco, etc. He also worked hard spiritually with his parishioners, often suffering bouts of depression as he tried to control demonstrations of lust or drunkenness among the people. However the experience helped him to grow spiritually and to become the missionary that was needed there.

In 1865, the island of Molokai was named as the spot for the new leprosarium. As in Biblical times, leprosy (Hansen's Disease) was misunderstood and feared. Very contagious, it was felt that it was best to isolate the victims of the disease to protect those who were well. In Hawaii, this meant forcibly separating victims from their homes and families (including children) and dumping them on the island of Molokai in an isolated location. There they would live out their lives as best they could and it was hoped that this would halt the spread of the disease. When Father Damien was first assigned to the leper colony at Molokai, the people lived a lawless life. The weak were taken advantage of by the stronger in every way. Father Damien was aghast and set out to change things. He built buildings, nursed the sick, buried the dead and pastored his flock. Slowly but surely, things began to improve. Now treated as human beings and children of God, the lepers began treating each other better. Father Damien became well-loved. Not afraid of hard work, he single-handedly changed the law-less leper colony into a place of dignity and respect. While he worked, he also wrote letters to his family and his superiors in Belgium. These letters were published and thus, his work gained him much notoriety. In turn, his fame made others jealous. Father Damien was accused of all manner of crimes against humanity by certain members of the Protestant clergy. No less a personage than Robert Louis Stevenson came publicly to his defense. But Father Damien didn't just have to deal with criticism from outside of his faith, he also had to deal with those within the Catholic Church who found him to be rude, crude and lacking in the social niceties. Even his immediate superiors in Hawaii were not always on his side. Father Damien continued to do his work on Molokai, often laboring into the night, catching a few hours of sleep and then starting up again in the morning. This continued even after Father Damien became ill with leprosy himself. In order to effectively deal with his sick parishioners, Father Damien never quailed when it came to nursing the sick or helping to change their dressings. He knew that he was putting himself at risk to catch the disease, but he didn't allow the fear to get in the way of his vocation. When he became ill, he continued to work. He knew that this time was limited and that he had much he needed to get done. Thankfully, he was provided with an able assistant with the arrival of Brother Joseph Dutton, who was cut from the same hard-working cloth as Father Damien.

On April 15, 1889, Father Damien de Veuster died of Hansen's Disease on the Hawaiian island of Molokai. His beloved parishioners lovingly buried their priest and the world mourned his passing. Later, his body was moved from Molokai to his home country of Belgium. Over 100n years later, he would be canonized as a saint in the Catholic Church.

The leper colony on Molokai is now a part of the National Park System. Hansen's Disease is now treatable with multi-drug therapy and a leper colony is no longer needed. Those who still live in the colony are those who spent their entire lives on Molokai. They are allowed to remain through their lifetimes.

I highly recommend this book. I learned so much and was fascinated by the story of this complicated and highly spiritual man. Thank you to The Catholic Company for providing this book to me to review.

Why We Need New Carpet

Any questions?

You'll Be Proud of Me

And I'll get to the reason for your pride soon. But first, let me tell you what I did today.

Today I was one of the chaperons for the 8th grade trip to Springfield, Il in advance of the state-mandated Constitution test next week. I was one of 8 chaperons along with two teachers and over 50 8th graders. And we all made it home alive. But that's not why you will be proud of me.

We started out at Abraham Lincoln's house. It started out as a one and a half story cottage with a couple of rooms down and a sleeping loft up. As Lincoln's fortunes grew, so did his family and his house. It grew into a 3000 sq ft home with three bedrooms and a room for the hired girl as well. I think this makes the 4th or 5th time I've toured Lincoln's house, but that's not reason you should be proud of me either.
Our next stop was the totally awesome Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Musuem. Here is my group of girls posing with the Lincoln family in front of the White House. I had never been here before as it is a relatively new attraction, but I am definitely coming back! The displays are incredible and there are many authentic Lincoln artifacts on display as well. My favorite area was the "Ghosts of the Library" theater. It is a holographic show with (I think) one live actor. He could have been a hologram too, for all I know. It was an amazing show with lots of pizazz that appeals to kids like me. But that's not why you should be proud of me either.
Now here comes the reason you will be proud of me. I am proud of me too. Remember this post? The one where I spill my guts about my irrational, illogical fear of heights, particularly in buildings with rotundas? That one? Well, our last stop was the state capitol building. We toured it about 3 years ago and I was a mess. I thought I was going to pass out or have a heart attack or something. All day today I was praying that I wouldn't make a fool out of myself there today in front of all of Becky's classmates and teachers. We got through security and waited in line for our tour guide. In the meantime, one of the teachers could not find her cell phone. She had had it when we went through security because she had put it in the tray. I called it for her, but it was on silent mode and she couldn't hear it. While she looked frantically for her phone, she asked ME if I could lead the kids up the stairs to the 4th floor so we could begin our tour. I smiled weakly at her and agreed. How ironic is that? She asks the one chaperon with the pathological fear of heights to take the kids up. She told me to go slowly and I nearly told her that I would have no choice in the matter. I would be on my hands and knees crawling up and you can't go too fast that way. So I swallowed, said another prayer and led the little darlings up to the tippy-top of the capitol building. I did it! I'll admit to sweaty palms and a racing heart, but I did it! I even made it back down the stairs too. I never went to the railing to look over at the floor waaaaaay down there below us. I stayed at the back, hugging the wall,but I don't think anyone would guess the pure, unadulterated terror that dwelt beneath the surface. And that's why you'll be proud of me. I could have won an Academy Award for my performance this afternoon. Oh, and the capitol is a truly beautiful building. And the rotunda is something like 67 feet higher than the one on the capitol building in Washington DC. However, I refused to look up until we were back on ground level. :O