There are some days…or entire weekends…that you just need to focus on the silver lining. Or really try to find the silver lining…

…for example, if you learn only after you plop an armload of books on the counter that the bookstore you are in is not having an educator’s discount (and then later realize that it wasn’t that big bookstore chain beginning with a B it was the other big bookstore chain beginning with a B – all too confusing for somebody who usually shops at the big online bookstore chain beginning with an A), you can at least be happy that you have that portion of your Christmas shopping done. I suppose I could have walked out without buying the books, but that would have meant an entire hour of my life wasted.

Thank goodness, they didn’t have any of the books or CDs my husband has on his wish list. Big bookstore A will definitely continue to profit from this household.

And the other good thing about this whole experience is that it served to remind me why I usually disregard any email that requires me to act within a certain period of time or one that requires me to leave my house. This one required both, and I should have known better.

Now finding the silver lining to situation two was a bit more difficult, but I think I’ve managed. When you and your entire family (even the dog) go to the park for a half hour and you leave the burner on under a pan where you are browning cubed beef for chili and you return to a house entirely filled with smoke, it may be tempting to think that there isn’t one good thing about it.

As you and your husband go through the house opening every window and door and turning on the A/C, the bathroom exhaust fans, and all the ceiling fans to help facilitate air movement, you may berate yourself for being a complete idiot or you may realize that not one of your smoke detectors is going off and be shocked and horrified as you see how filled with smoke the bedrooms are and realize how your entire family would probably have died of smoke inhalation had you done such a bone-headed thing at bedtime.

And as you test your smoke detectors and hear them do their obligatory beep that lies about how ready they are to detect that stuff that is filling your house, you could get really angry at the private company that just built this military housing and installed what is obviously a defective smoke detection system, or you could be very happy that your family is already scheduled for a field trip to the firehouse on Tuesday where you will be able to discuss with the fire department this extremely dangerous situation and possibly have them intervene on your behalf and on the behalf of the hundreds of families here who live in these new houses with interconnected smoke detectors that don’t work.

If you ask the kids, the silver lining is going out to dinner at a sit down restaurant. They behaved well. Proof that there is a God, and He is good.

If anybody has any ideas for saving my pot and getting the smell of smoke out of my house, I’m all ears.

I’m no animal expert, but I understand that one animal becomes afraid and other animals sense this and react according to their natures: those at the bottom of the food chain start considering hiding or running and those at the top of the food chain begin calculating the statistical probability of having steak tartare for lunch. One zebra does not say to another, “Holy smokes! Lion at two o’clock! Run for the hills!” They just know.

I’ve long suspected that mothers exude vibes too, and their children sense them clearly. Fear is a pretty strong emotion, but so too, apparently is the joy a woman feels at the prospect of a few minutes sans children. Whether mom wants to run to the grocery store for a few items, or go out after the kids’ bedtime to a friend’s house, or simply leave the children under the doting supervision of their father while she weeds the garden, children will sense this attempt to temporarily shrug her maternal duties and will mercilously track her down.

How often have I made plans to depart for a meeting or fun activity as soon as the kids are asleep, only to have a nursing infant decide that he or she would suddenly become high-maintenance and refuse to settle down? How many times have I left sleeping children to go to the grocery store and one or more have awakened and refused to go back to sleep until mom returns? As countless as the stars, it seems…

Yesterday morning, I peeked into the den aka office aka spare bedroom aka throne room (seat of power at the computer) and saw Jenny and Peter happily amused with some toy while Fritz and his dad looked at something online. I stood in the hallway out of sight of the little ones. I used RSL to tell my husband that I was going to take a shower (woo hoo! ten minutes of peace and quiet!!). I dashed off, but by the time I got to the staircase 15 feet away, I heard my husband calling to Petey. I looked over the half wall to see my baby in hot pursuit, but momentarily distracted by his dad.

I took the stairs two at a time and went to my bedroom. I closed the door, but didn’t lock it because somebody might need to come in. I went into the bathroom. I closed the door, but didn’t lock it because somebody might need to come in. Thank goodness, the bathroom door is sticky and the kids can’t open it. Pete had been sufficiently called off scent, but Jenny took up the chase. As I was washing my hair, I could hear her knocking at the door saying, “Mommy, I need you!” Like a dog at the narrow opening to a fox’s den, she remained for five minutes impatiently demanding entry. Her stalking attracted Pete once again to the site of his quarry, and he joined her in the baying of the hounds until their father arrived a minute later to chase them off.

So, five minutes of peace and quiet. It was enough.

Eric Scheske writes about Rod Dreher’s confession that he has left the Roman Catholic Church for the Orthodox Church. His (Rod’s) posting is very long, and makes me profoundly sad.

My first question as I read his explanation was what about Truth? I am not at all saying that Orthodox Christians do not have the Truth; I believe that they do. I know that there are a few Orthodox ladies who read my blog, and I’m not at all interested in offending you. In fact, Mimi, I’ve been thinking about how St. Michael’s feast day for you does not coincide with his feast day for me, and I pray that our Churches can get it together and come to an agreement on these basic things.

One thing that the RC Church rejects (should reject) is the cult of personality whereby we hop from church to church trying to find one that suits us. We don’t like the music here or the homilies there. What really matters is the Eucharist. It is a matter of faith that a priest, properly ordained, who recites the appropriate Eucharistic prayers is able, through the power of God, to transform bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, even if he himself doesn’t believe it, and even if he himself is a despicable child molester.

I’m not saying that the music or the homilies or the private life of the priest don’t matter at all. Oh, they do. But we need to recognize these issues and problems as separate and distinct from doctrinal issues and issues of Truth. Rod recognizes the Truth of the Eucharist, which is why he went Orthodox instead of, say, Lutheran. But Rod addresses this thorn of following Truth (as opposed to that warm fuzzy feeling) this way:

I had to admit that I had never seriously considered the case for Orthodoxy. Now I had to do that. And it was difficult poring through the arguments about papal primacy. I’ll spare you the details, but I will say that I came to seriously doubt Rome’s claims. Reading the accounts of the First Vatican Council, and how they arrived at the dogma of papal infallibility, was a shock to me: I realized that I simply couldn’t believe the doctrine. And if that falls, it all falls. Of course I immediately set upon myself, doubting my thinking because doubting my motives. You’re just trying to talk yourself into something, I thought. And truth to tell, there was a lot of that, I’m sure.

He set about to prove that Orthodoxy was true, not to prove that the doctrine of papal infallibility was true. Well, these thoughts are not mutually exclusive! Orthodoxy is Truth, so proving that doesn’t prove in the least that the Pope is wrong. It is only through being unable to prove that papal infallibility is true, that we can recognize that it is false. Does that make sense? If an employer thinks an employee is stealing, he can quickly doubt every word, every action and see deceit where none is. If an employer seeks to prove that an employee is not stealing, not by turning a blind eye to questionable behavior, but by truly investigating him with the intent to explain why money and items are missing, an employee’s dishonesty may make that attempt impossible.

You can not prove as true things which are false, but you can “prove” (inspire doubt) as false things which are true.

Rod then follows this line of reasoning about papal infallibility with how the Orthodox Church gives him that warm fuzzy feeling. This reduces his whole motive for converting to how the Church makes him feel, not what is Truth, which is the same thing as hopping around looking for a priest who delivers a homily that says what you want it to say.

Perhaps the most telling passage, though, for me is this one:

A few weeks back, I mentioned to Julie on the way to St. Seraphim’s one morning, “I’m now part of a small church that nobody’s heard of, with zero cultural influence in America, and in a tiny parish that’s materially poor. I think that’s just where I need to be.”

He is meaning to say that he is humbled by the tiny stature of his new-found religion as opposed to the pride he felt at belonging to the RC Church. Unfortunately, where he professes humility, I see someone who revels in being elite. The Few, the Proud…the Orthodox? God did not intend to save only the Jews…even the dogs eat scraps from the master’s table. Truth is not meant to be restricted to only special groups.

I suppose my perspective is different than Rod’s. The Orthodox Church is not the faith of my fathers. As much Truth as may be found there, I would not leave the Truth revealed through the Roman Catholic Church. But neither Rod nor his wife are cradle Catholics. They converted to Roman Catholicism and converting to Orthodoxy, as difficult as that may have been for them, is not a rejection of their parents’ and grandparents’ religion.

It just saddens me that, once again, a high-profile Catholic is publicly rejecting the Church. It’s a nasty business. The problems with the Church are neither unique to this denomination nor unique to this era of history. Walking away from the Church is never the answer. Then we just end up with the Nativity of Christ being celebrated on two different days of the year.

Early in our marriage, Bill and I realized that we simply could not afford to waste money on frivolous gifts for each other when there were things we truly wanted or needed and could barely afford. It would be silly for me to buy him a Cheesehead, when he really needed another dress shirt for work. I got little joy out of a beautiful knick knack when I really wanted a non-stick skillet for my eggs (fried over easy).

Growing up and even now, my mother complains about how my dad shops for her for Christmas. He wants a list. He takes her list, hits the bank for cash, and then goes to the mall and goes down the list getting her everything on it. She hates that. I can see her point to some degree. Most women I know foolishly expect our men to read our minds and just “know us.” It is just so romantic to have our sweetheart find a perfect gift and surprise us with it.

But most men I know are like my dad. They don’t want the pressure of finding the perfect gift. They don’t enjoy or have the time to spend hours in the mall scouring the clearance rack for a great deal. And since most women, when shopping for themselves, make several trips back and forth to the dressing room, critically eying the length of the skirt or the tightness of the hips or the plunge of the neckline, and discarding half the selected items, it is small wonder that any man who has witness that scene would ever have the confidence to pick out something and expect his wife to be happy with it.

I have tried to defend my dad to my mom and tell her that his shopping for her in that manner is an act of love. Here she has told him her heart’s desire and there he goes to fulfill it. What more could (should) any woman want?

Fortunately for my husband, I am much more pragmatic. For our recent anniversary, I bought myself a Bissel carpet cleaner and then thanked him for his generosity. Usually, though, I tell him what I want and let him buy it. The year he was in Kosovo, he bought me a blender/food processor. He actually bragged to his buddies that his wife requested a blender for the occasion. And I was happy. I let him shop (online) for it, and he spent a good deal of time researching features and reading reviews to make sure he got me a really good one. He picked one that was far superior to any I may have considered myself. Now that’s love.

So, this month, I am looking at how I spend our money and am trying to begin shopping for Christmas with an eye on how I may be wasting money. I think the system my husband and I have, where we each write a long list of things we’d like including size and color if appropriate (we mark catalogs), and then we set a budget, and then we are free to shop off the other’s person’s list within the budget, is a nice blend of getting things you’d like but still having a surprise. And in recent years when money has been less tight, we’ve each felt a bit freer to get one or two things that are not on the list but we think the other would like.

But I have not been quite as spend-thrifty when it comes to the kids. Stocking-stuffers are my big downfall where I know I spend too much money on little things that they don’t care too much about. I want those stockings to be full, but I don’t want them full of candy, so I fill them with stuff. Maybe this year, I’ll fill them with nuts and buy a nutcracker (a real one) and introduce my children to the inexpensive and time-consuming pastime of working for your snack.

Also, I need to move fast and think hard about some deals that are too good to miss. We always buy books for Christmas time. I received this email a few days ago:

Borders Books will honor educators during “Educator Savings Days,”Thursday-Tuesday, October 12-17. During this time, educators will receive a 25 percent discount on books, music and gift items, and a 20 percent discount on DVDs. (Normal exceptions apply.) The discounts are available for items purchased for personal as well as professional use. Current and retired teachers, librarians, school employees, principals, homeschoolers, instructors, trainers, and other educators are eligible.

If I do an hour of hard thinking, I should be able to come up with a shopping list for my nearest and dearest, including nephew and nieces. A 25% discount is hard to beat, and since I know I will be buying books anyway, I think it would be a waste of money to wait another month to shop.

I’d like to hear from you. What goes in those Christmas stockings? Do you and your husband have a good system for buying gifts for each other, or is Christmas a big disappointment for you both? And who has started shopping already?

Also, I’m looking for some good ideas for the kids to make for each other and others. I’ve thought about the boys picking out cookie recipes (we have a great book with pictures) and baking them to send to grandparents and to our deployed friends and to wrap and give to each other. I’ve thought that even my 3 year old can dip pretzels in chocolate for a yummy present. Any other ideas?

One of the styles of architecture that I like least is the ubiquitous colonial style, like the house in which I currently live. I say this to people all the time and many respond with a surprised look and the question, “Well, what kind do you like?” As if there were no other.

Tudor is the first word that springs to mind.

Victorian?

Bungalow – Cottage?

Recently, my husband has been browsing the Orvis log homes pages. I don’t know why. Not only can we not afford one of these homes, we don’t happen to own any land upon which to build it (except for that little lot in Suburbia, New Jersey which already has a cute and suitably sized Cape Cod home on it), and he doesn’t happen to be employed in a capacity where he can just live anywhere and then hop in his private plane to get to the office or retire to his home-office and peck away at the keyboard all day for pay. And we’re not independently wealthy either. Woe is me.

If you’re not familiar with Orvis, they are high-end outdoorsy stuff. L.L. Bean times two or three. Beaners go hunting…Orvisers go on safari. Seriously. A man can dream.

I have to admit, though, looking at the plans for these log homes and seeing the front elevation sketches has me dreaming too. I asked for one for my 50th birthday. That gives us 15 years to win the lottery.

We especially like the Rogue with 5 big bedrooms and 6 baths and plenty of space for all of us. The kids have already planned who would sleep where.

So, after 4 months of snorkeling on my wallpaper, I’ve switched to the log cabin in the woods. Plenty of room for guests in this fantasy. Don’t forget to pack your fishing gear – there must be trout in that stream around back.

Many many thanks to Jennie C for sending me over to Amazon to read reviews of milk such as this one:

On the nose this milk is exceptionally elegant. Dominant floral notes (mint and white flowers) mingle with hints of fresh fruit (citrus fruits, fresh almonds). As it undergoes aeration, riper notes of vanilla and nougat come to the fore, giving a pleasant roundness to the milk. At this stage a typical whole milk characteristic, crisp elegance, clearly prevails over aromatic strength.

In the mouth, the milk, especially in the gallon size, reveals its
true personality. Fruity notes (white peaches, grapefruit and bergamot) dominate an energetic attack on the palate, which is prolonged by the structure and roundedness of the milk. The balance, a combination of freshness and vigour, is ideal. With a finish that is extremely persistent and clean, mineral notes add force to this noble cow juice.

Some of these just may make me snort milk out my nose.

To: all family members ages 5 and up

From: The Lady of the House and the Laundry Mistress

re: Mandatory Laundry Seminar this Saturday

The Laundry Mistress will be conducting the Semi-Annual Laundry Seminar this Saturday beginning at 1300 hours. Attendance is mandatory for all family members over the age of 5.

The seminar schedule will be as follows:

1300 – 1305 How Clothes Are Cleaned – The Laundry Mistress will walk attendees through the laundry process from dirty to clean. This will include a tour of the laundry room and general instructions on how the washer and dryer operate.

1305 – 1310 Hands On! Laundry Recepticles – Attendees will locate all the proper laundry recepticles in the house and search for dirty laundry not in the proper place.

1310 – 1315 A Week in the Life of Your Favorite Shirt – Why does it seem to take a whole week for your favorite shirt to be cleaned? The Laundry Mistress will point out common pitfalls in the laundry process from dirty clothes being shoved under the bed to folded laundry not being put away in a timely fashion. This portion of the seminar will also consider the impact of wearing two or three different outfits every day and how all that extra laundry can clog the whole process.

1315 – 1325 Hands On! Right Side Out – Yes! Socks, pants and shirts can be removed from the body without being turned inside out! This most important portion of the seminar will include a discussion of how stains and stinks can best be removed from soiled clothing if the clothes are washed right side out. Attendees will have a chance to practice clothing removal techniques that will minimize the amount that clothing is turned inside out and will practice turning clothes right side out if those techniques fail. PLEASE NOTE: once this seminar is completed, all family members over the age of 5 will be required to turn clothing right side out before placing it in the laundry recepticles. The Laundry Mistress may reject inside out clothing from the cleaning process or may return cleaned items folded inside out.

1325 – 1330 Q&A – To conclude the seminar, the Laundry Mistress will answer questions and offer additional help for anyone interested.

Please note the day and time of this seminar on your calendars. Being absent or late to this seminar is punishable by up to three hours of laundry duty service.

…and by his own free choice, my 8 year old is watching Singing in the Rain.

But would he take tap classes if I asked him? No way.

Despite having completed ten miles the other day, I still consider myself a non-runner. My body seems to agree, and I am stiff and sore. Yesterday morning, I took Greta for a walk. She kept pulling the lead, wondering why I was going so slowly. This morning, I took her for a very slow jog. The first half mile was pretty pitiful, but finally the muscles loosened up and I managed to go the 1.6 miles necessary to just complete my second PT goal for the year: to run 250 miles.

When I established the goal of 250 miles, running one full mile was quite a feat for me. I thought if I ran one to two miles three to five times per week, that would be really good. Since I had already decided to run the Army Ten Miler, I knew that I would likely run some longer distances at some point, but that was too far away to really think about.

A friend of mine was really surprised to learn that I had run the race (her reaction to this fact really convinced me that I am truly a non-runner…I mean runners are thin! runners have that lean hard body that I covet! runners run everywhere all the time! runners exude runner-aura!). This friend had taken her kids to do all the kid-stuff at the Ten Miler while her husband ran. That was one thing I thought was great: seeing nursing moms with little babies on the train headed to the race…and DAD was wearing jeans and MOM was wearing running clothes, and seeing other whole families going together. It was really nice. I was happy my kids were still in bed, but it was nice to see others doing it nonetheless.

This friend seemed to think running this race was an unachievable goal for her, but since I had done it (I, the non-runner with a non-runner-aura) maybe she could do it too. She asked me how. I told her that the first hurdle was one full mile. Our neighborhood happens to be 1.06 miles in circumference. I told her to set one lap around as her goal and to do the whole distance even if she had to walk most of it. Run 3 houses, walk 3 houses, run 3 houses, walk 3 houses……run 6 houses, walk 3 houses……run 8 houses, walk 2 houses……after she manages to run the whole thing, go for 1 1/2 laps, then 2.

It really is easy. Sure it is! Granted, I have another friend who has been trying this for months, and she can’t get up to 2 miles. Every person is different, and I can’t promise results. This same friend who can’t run two miles can do 50 pushups and I can’t do 4, despite trying for months to increase my upper body strength. That lamentation will be spelled out in another post about PT goal number three, which sadly seems to me to be unattainable.

I do encourage anybody who thinks they may want to run to try it. 5k races and fun runs abound, and that is only a bit over 3 miles (not 2 – thank you, Bill, for pointing out my glaring error from early this morning). I think training for this Ten Miler motivated me to get up early to do my morning runs when I overwise would have preferred to sleep another hour. I recommend going online and searching for races in your area that are several months away and aiming to compete. I intend to find another (much shorter) race to enter in a few months to keep me going out. Two goals down. I don’t want to be like several women I know who have not run at all since their big races last fall!

…at the Cub Scout den meeting…

Den Leader: Has anybody ever been on a boat?

Tiger Scout: I have!

Den Leader: That’s great! What kind of boat was it?

Tiger Scout: A big ol’ money pit.