“The hearts of human beings,” says Nicholas Cabasilas, “were made great enough to contain God himself.” If they do not contan the Uncreated they will turn their desire toward created objects, and then only nothingness can spring forth, for every person is a gaping space waiting to be filled with God.

Oliver Clément (from Magnificat‘s Meditation of the Day)

Last week, Bill and I had a babysitter lined up. At the last minute, I had to cancel. Petey was throwing up.

{This reminds me of a similar situation years ago. Bill and I were going to a formal event that was hours away from our house. One of the boys got sick that day – high fever. Bill went alone. At the event, someone inquired about me, and Bill explained the situation. The person seemed confused as to why a sick child would prevent my coming. I’m still confused about their confusion.}

Today, Bill and I have a babysitter lined up. Dinner. Grocery shopping (hey, we’re an old married couple, grocery shopping is romantic…and necessary).

Last night, I told Bill that nobody was allowed to get sick. If they got sick, I would simply have to kill them. Dead bodies require less maintenance than live, sick bodies.

This morning, Bill wasn’t looking very good. He expressed fear for his life – he’s feeling a bit sick.

I don’t care if he has to excuse himself to go to the bathroom to vomit. We’re going out.

Fortunately, he’s not throwing up. Yet.

If he’s too sick to eat, we’ll save money, right?

There are about a dozen clusters of daffodils scattered on my property. They are lovely.

I am certain that the tulips I planted at my last home are preparing to bloom soon. I do hope that the family who lives there now is enjoying them as much as I did.

There is something about spring. Even a coldish day seems a bit warmer if there are sunny, smiling, yellow flowers waving at you.

The one small clump of crocuses are already gone. I am making a mental note to plant more of those for next year. It is always good to see a glimmer of purple peaking out from the snow or mud.

*******

As we drive around, the kids are quick to point out any “blossom trees.” They are my favorite, so they say. They don’t realize that they are noticing perhaps a half dozen completely different trees. They do know that I have dragged them down to the Tidal Basin every spring that we have lived in the DC area to see the cherry trees in full bloom.

They don’t know that I regularly check out the latest updates on peak bloom and plan accordingly. Peak time is expected for between April 1st and 4th this year. It really really is worth the trip and the crowds. Really. Photos can not do the scene justice.

The kids reminded me that Billy threw up the last time we tried to see the cherry blossoms. I hope we have none of that next week.

We did drive past the Jefferson Memorial on our way to Walter Reed on Wednesday (another story). The ring of trees around the Basin had a faint tinge of pink. My heart leaped. We already have a trip to the Zoo scheduled for Monday, the 30th. It’s a few days before peak, but I just don’t want to plan to miss two days of school next week. I’ll head over there after the Zoo (it’s not too much out of the way) and maybe have a picnic dinner under a canopy of white and pink. If the blooms disappoint (even a bit before peak, I find that very doubtful), we can always go back on Sunday.

With all the scandals regarding “Catholic” charities giving money to not-so-Catholic causes, I am very wary of giving any money to any organization that hasn’t been fully vetted. And when I do have extra cash (OK, that is never, but round about this time every year, I get a tidy sum from my tax return) this is the charity I prefer to give to. I’ve met the woman who started it; I know one woman who works there; they send me a hand-written thank you note; and they include my family in their rosary. It really doesn’t get more personal (or more “vetted”) than that. Bill and I were discussing if we should split the amount we were giving away between Visitiation Home and another charity – perhaps Wounded Warrior. After I found this video, I am reminded why I never need to look for another charitable cause again.

Why does the phrase “working feverishly” mean to work hastily and with great effort…

…when in reality, working feverishly means sluggishly, gingerly or from a fetal position on the couch, preferable in a darkened room with hushed sounds?

Note to self: do not stop the ibuprofin regimen just because you woke up feeling better. Such delay in medication means you crash that much harder when the day gets underway.

Happily, Bill is either at the airport or in the air on his way home from Germany. He won’t get home until after bedtime, but perhaps having that light at the end of the tunnel will sustain me.

…or my husband, or anybody capable of wiping bottoms, buttering toast, and chasing toddlers. One hour post ibuprofin, and my temp is still over 102. I just want to crawl under a rock. Splitting headache, chills, aches, and I think I have an ear infection.

Long, but excellent text of a speech:

“Tolerance Is Not a Christian Virtue”

One of the words we heard endlessly in the last U.S. election was “hope.” I think “hope” is the only word in the English language more badly misused than “love.” It’s our go-to anxiety word — as in, “I sure hope I don’t say anything stupid tonight.” But for Christians, hope is a virtue, not an emotional crutch or a political slogan. Virtus, the Latin root of virtue, means strength or courage. Real hope is unsentimental. It has nothing to do with the cheesy optimism of election campaigns. Hope assumes and demands a spine in believers. And that’s why — at least for a Christian — hope sustains us when the real answer to the problems or hard choices in life is “no, we can’t,” instead of “yes, we can.”

Although I weigh myself most mornings, it is only once a month that I record that number and about a half dozen body measurements, since inches mean more than weight (or so they say).

Compared to last month, I am down 4 pounds. Nice.

Except those measurements tell the truth I already suspected. The size 8 jeans are still just a bit snug. Where were those 4 pounds lost? Hips? Thighs?

No. Alas, I lost them on my chest.

{sigh}

My “Holy Cow that Soup Dinner is at 5:30 not 6 pm – 15 Minute Cream of Tomato Soup” Recipe:

1. Open Joy of Cooking. Read the simple steps of making fresh tomato soup (chop, saute onions, simmer tomatoes for 25 minutes, puree).

2. Close Joy of Cooking (but keep it on the counter for encouragement).

3. Open pantry. Find 2 cans of condensed tomato soup, one big can of crushed tomatoes with basil, and 3 cans of diced tomatoes with garlic and onion.

4. Dump soup and crushed tomatoes in large saucepan. Add 2 or 3 cans of milk. Turn heat to high. Stir.

5. Dig out food processor. Puree diced tomatoes until they look good. Add to saucepan. Stir. When hot, put in pre-heated crockpot. Serve with Ritz Crackers with Roasted Vegetables.

Warning: be careful not to walk away to put shoes on your three year old lest the soup boil and burn.

Serves: not enough. There were no leftovers.