Fritz made buttercream filling for our Holy Thursday cake all by himself. Yum.

Happy Triduum. I’ll be turning off the computer until Easter just as soon as I balance my checkbook. I hope your weekend is a blessed one.

Baseball games started yesterday. The boys’ team lost 7 to 6. Tonight they face the “best” team – only a game or two in, and there is already a “best” team.

Somewhere, sometime, and I don’t remember where or when, I read (on a blog, I think) the suggestion to have your child athlete place his uniform in a mesh laundry bag (designed for delicates) so that it can go in and out of the wash together. No missing socks or washing the jersey and forgetting the pants.

I thank you, whoever you are, for this tip, and I pass it on to all you other moms gearing up for a sweaty, dirty season on the diamond. Off to rotate my wash.

When I grow up, I want to work for The Onion.

Thanks to Mama on the Move for this link:

Increasing Number Of Parents Opting To Have Children School-Homed

If you are not familiar with The Onion, please note that it is entirely satirical.

Now that the rain clouds have dispersed, the weather forecast is calling for a week of gorgeous. My only disappointment is that when my husband went to install an “outdoor dryer” this weekend, a part was missing. We didn’t have the time to return it, so it will be yet another week before I can hang clothes out to dry. I do so miss the smell of sun dried linens.

Is it Holy Week already? So much to do still.

I vaguely recall learning grammar in middle school. Or rather, I vaguely recall being taught grammar in middle school. I didn’t actually learn it. I am fortunate that my parents speak in grammatically correct sentences most of the time, so grammar class was mostly me wording things the way that sounded most right.

Fritz is learning grammar (being taught grammar), and he is doing the same thing: resting on his knowledge of what sounds correct versus actually understanding things like what it means to combine a helping verb with a past participle to form a compound tense (huh?). Up to now, his exposure to, shall we say, unrefined conversations has been very limited. Sure, we say things like “It’s me” or “Who does this belong to?” but that’s probably the extent of our poor grammar, and we know it is improper and we don’t speak that way in formal conversations.

But, oh my, what my kids are hearing on the baseball field. “Where you at, Fritz?” I suppose it doesn’t matter that the words end in a preposition…because it’s not a sentence. It makes me cringe. Other things make me laugh: “Stop your jibber-jabbering on the bench and pay attention to the game!” Hoo, boy.

Now, not all the good ol’ boys have Southern Drawls or speak like they were raised in the hills by moonshine swillin’ elementary school drop outs. But there are a few other ways we Reitemeyers have proven that we’re not from around these parts.

That ball cap Fritz likes to wear has this logo. Perhaps you recognize our favorite football team of frozen tundra fame? Down here they have never heard of a frozen tundra. In fact, I’m not sure they even know that there are football teams that don’t have “State” or “University” in their name.

When the coach realized it wasn’t the Georgia Bulldog logo, he forbade Fritz to wear it.

Last weekend, Bill went camping with the Cub Scouts. Our tent is one of these. We are 900 miles away from their nearest retail store.

Locals shop here.

One other way we show we aren’t local: we don’t know how to order a Coke, with a capital c. If you ask for a Coke, the waitress generally asks you, “Which one?” because in the South, coke, small c, means “carbonated beverage.” A warning to Diet Coke addicts, ordering a Diet Coke might get you a Diet Pepsi without the slightest thought from your server that you might want a specific brand of diet carbonated beverage.

And we may never learn how to get a Coke without a lengthy conversation. I generally avoid “soda” (how I refer to carbonated beverages) and stick with water instead. Bill is trying to act like he’s a native, so he’s been ordering “sweet tea.” And the kids like root beer and Sprite. So far, Sprite seems to mean Sprite, and not any old, carbonated, lemon-lime concoction.

Although I don’t care if my kids think a soda is called a coke or if our supplier of outdoor equipment has a wide mouth in its logo, I do hope that my kids don’t pick up the local jargon. In two years, if my son hears, “You ain’t from around he-ya, are ya, boy?” I do hope he is able to answer, “No, sir, I am not.”

For Immediate Release
March 19, 2010

Magnificat Launches Daily Prayer App on iPhone

YONKERS, NY – Magnificat USA, publisher of the monthly Catholic worship aid, Magnificat, today announces the launch of its daily prayer application on iPhone. Beginning on Palm Sunday, March 28, the Magnificat application will be available at the iPhone App Store.

Presented in a day-by-day format, the Magnificat app includes the following features:

• Morning, evening, and night prayers inspired by the Liturgy of the Hours
• Readings and prayers of each daily Mass
• Daily meditations drawn from the best writings of the Church Fathers as well as recent spiritual masters
• Essays on the lives of the saints from yesterday and today

Details about the Magnificat app:

• Available at the iPhone App Store beginning on Palm Sunday, March 28
• Free during Holy Week and for the whole month of April
• Free for the first week after downloading
• Rates: 99 cents per week; $2.99 per month; $14.99 for 6 months; and $19.99 for one year

About Magnificat

Magnificat magazine has become a worldwide phenomenon with nearly a million readers on five continents and in five languages. With 300,000 American subscribers, Magnificat is available in English-language and Spanish-language editions.

Magnificat is a pocket-sized spiritual companion beautifully printed on ivory Bible paper, that one can take anywhere at any time. The Magnificat app is one more convenient way of bringing the riches of prayer into the palm of one’s hand.

Savannah residents take St. Patrick’s Day very seriously.

Baseball practice: canceled.

Ballet: canceled.

Even the Army was giving “training holidays” (a.k.a. bonus vacation days) to soldiers. Not my soldier, of course. But he is heading home, and it isn’t yet 5 PM. Wow!

I ran to the grocery store, almost surprised to find it open. Mary and I were the only people there not wearing green.

NJ man accused of raping, beating 5 daughters :

“I’m sure my not standing up to him didn’t help the kids.”

Ya think?

Abuse continued until she left him. I will never understand this. I can not imagine the thought processes that keep women in these situations for longer than it takes to find the front door.