Really Moist Chicken

We've had a lot of rain lately: puddles abound, the ditches are full. I think our rooster must have been concentrating on chasing a hen--he's a regular Pepe' Le Pew--and ended up scuba diving in a ditch. Water dripped from his tail as the hens, fluffy and dry, looked on disdainfully.

Beautifying Your World: Planned Spontaneity in 3/4 Time

The other night I was shopping for music on the Country Dance and Song Society website and took a moment to scan their newsletter article archive. The title, "Spontaneous Waltzing in Public Places," by Greg Rohde, leapt out from the others, and I opened it immediately.

Ahhhhhhh! What a lovely, lovely idea--so uplifting, so easy, and such a positive way to respond to the ugliness in the world. And it goes hand-in-hand with wearing beautiful dresses and skirts, another good way that we can take a stand against our culture's embrace of ugliness!

I'm so excited, I'm ready to start organizing a group right now, but first, I think I'll learn how to waltz. Actually, I have plans for my family to start lessons in the next few weeks! Emma is already a pretty good waltzer from waltzing at the contra dances but is looking forward to the lessons just the same.

Here's an excerpt from the article:

The Concept

Mike Holdinghaus, a local musician, gets the credit for the original concept. He and his two fiddling daughters were looking for motivation to learn more waltzes. Mike imagined how wonderful it would be to play outdoors in public places so that a few waltzers could dance to their music, surprising and delighting any onlookers. “Waltz and Run” dancers would randomly appear here and there in flowing skirts with lovely music to twirl and glide and spin in front of amazed and appreciative civilians. We’d employ guerilla tactics to evoke joy and delight. News reports would lead with: “Another ‘Drive-by-Waltzing’ in South St. Louis…”. I took his imagination and converted it to reality. The concept was simple: waltzing in public places. Putting it together meant finding a venue, providing music and inviting dancers.

Gov. Rick Perry is No Jefferson Davis

Peter Morrison is a businessman in Lumberton, TX, who writes a weekly conservative e-letter to which I subscribe. This week's letter is pasted below. Mr. Morrison details the sudden shift in Texas Gov. Rick Perry's stance from a politically "moderate" Republican to one that is more conservative. Perry, a so-called pro-life Christian, supported pro-abort Giuliani for president. How "moderate" is that?

Mr. Morrison attributes this change to Perry's ability to "wake up and smell the coffee". In other words, the governor will change his political views to remain in public office. Specifically, he has recently received much attention for his support of HCR 50, the Texas Sovereignty Bill.

I am not impressed.

As far as I am concerned Rick Perry can never redeem himself from attempting to force me to have my daughter vaccinated with Gardasil so that he could "scratch the back" of his supporters in the drug industry. But he is going to lead the way in protecting me from the federal government? Ha! I don't think that state sovereignty can protect us from politicians like Rick Perry. It is recognizing Jesus Christ's sovereignty over our lives that will make the difference and only that. Jefferson Davis did, and was willing to suffer for it. . Rick Perry definitely does not.


The Peter Morrison Report

After the most left wing president in history was elected, it was
only a matter of time until widespread resistance to his radical
socialist agenda took shape. Events of the past few weeks have
made it clear that the Obama backlash is finally starting to reach
a kind of critical mass. Thanks to hundreds of thousands of people
just like you, the spirit of freedom and liberty is making a
comeback all across Texas and America. It's not quite 1776 all
over again just yet, and there's still a long way to go, but more
and more Americans are talking openly about their disgust at what's
going on in Washington.

Hundreds of thousands of people all over America turned out on
April 15 at the Tea Party protests. The media at first tried to
ignore the growing movement. When it got too big to ignore, they
began ridiculing it, referring to the protesters as "radical
extremists" and "nuts" who didn't deserve a hearing. Here's how
one writer for the Los Angeles Times put it: "Go to a hobby store.
Buy a scale model of a U.N. One-World-Government Black Helicopter
and a tube of glue. Toss the model kit. Sniff the entire tube of
glue. You're all set for the party."

When even blatant ridicule failed to work, the media resorted to
the last refuge of liberals, branding members of the Tea Party
movement as "racist", supposedly because they're protesting
America's first black president. Several celebrities, pundits and
even a few reporters were so desperate to stop this movement in its
tracks that they resorted to this cheapest of all smear tactics.

Why are they so scared? Why are they working so hard to render
these mass protests null and void? It's because they know just how
powerfully the idea of resistance to tyrannical government appeals
to the average American. It's what our country was founded on, and
deep down, it's still a big part of what being an American means to
most of us. There are still tens of millions of us for whom the
words liberty and freedom aren't just empty political slogans. The
media is acutely aware of that, and are desperately hoping they can
keep the sleeping giant from waking up.

Our own governor, Rick Perry, gave them even more reason to be
worried with remarks he made a few days before the national Tea
Party protests. He came out in favor of HCR 50, the Texas
Sovereignty Bill sponsored by Representatives Leo Berman, Brandon
Creighton and other patriotic Texas legislators. "I believe that
our federal government has become oppressive in its size, its
intrusion into the lives of our citizens, and its interference with
the affairs of our state," Gov. Perry said. "That is why I am here
today to express my unwavering support for efforts all across our
country to reaffirm the states' rights affirmed by the Tenth
Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. I believe that returning to the
letter and spirit of the U.S. Constitution and its essential 10th
Amendment will free our state from undue regulations, and
ultimately strengthen our Union."

Governor Perry and Texas legislators aren't alone in these
sentiments. Already this year, eight other states have also passed
similar amendments seeking to reclaim their state sovereignty,
which has been almost totally usurped by an out of control federal
government. Twenty other states are considering doing so, and
that number will probably continue to grow. Much like the Tea
Party protest movement, the State Sovereignty movement is truly a
grassroots effort. Unlike radical left wing groups like ACORN and
the NAACP, it doesn't have any big corporate backing. It largely
grew out of Ron Paul's Campaign For Liberty and the tireless
efforts of Dr. Paul's supporters. Two years ago, before the
economic crisis, the media had mainstream voters laughing at Ron
Paul as he warned us about the pernicious influence of the Federal
Reserve and massive government debt, but now he looks like a
prophet. A lot of those mainstream voters now share the righteous
anger that fueled the Ron Paul presidential campaign. (For Rep.
Paul's reaction to all this, see here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvliy8rEJDQ
)
It's that anger, along with our activism, that no doubt caused
Governor Perry to wake up and smell the coffee. He's never been
known as a strong conservative; on the contrary, he has actively
worked against some of our interests in the past. He opposed the
presidential campaign of Dr. Paul, his fellow Texan, instead
endorsing the left wing RINO Rudy Giuliani. For years he
spearheaded the efforts to create the Trans Texas Corridor, which
conservatives hated, but big business loved. Now, after years of
striving to be seen as a "moderate" Republican, he's suddenly
starting to sound like the reincarnation of Ronald Reagan. He sees
which way the wind is blowing, and he wants to be out in front.

It's no secret that Governor Perry likely harbors ambitions of
running for president one of these days. He may shoot for the US
Senate first, but his ultimate goal is the White House. He's
paying close attention to the new political mood that's taking
shape in both Texas and the nation and he sees the same thing the
liberal media sees - a groundswell movement of fed up citizens and
taxpayers. He sees average, ordinary Americans from all walks of
life who are outraged at having to bail out multinational
corporations to the tune of nearly a trillion dollars, disgusted at
nothing being done about illegal immigration, and completely
opposed to the radical left wing agenda Obama and the Democrats
want to impose on this country.

Make no mistake - if it weren't for the tireless efforts of
thousands of patriotic Texans just like yourself, Rick Perry would
be singing a different tune right now. He's a politician, and he
wants to stay in politics. The best way to do that is to make sure
you know what the people want. Clearly, Governor Perry is starting
to get the message. The huge defeat of the Trans Texas Corridor,
which was his pet project, was an urgent wake up call. The
grassroots rebellion that brought together hundreds of thousands of
Americans on April 15 was another one. Rick Perry is starting to
understand that if he wants a future in politics, he'd better
become a lot more conservative than he's been in the past. His
turnaround is a remarkable development, one which shows just how
much power we have when we work together. If we keep this energy
and momentum going, there's no limit on what we can accomplish.

Please take the time to send a call and thank the main sponsors in
the House and Senate:

House: Rep. Leo Berman (512) 463-0584
House: Rep. Brandon Creighton (512) 463-0726
Senate: Sen. Robert Nichols (512) 463-0103

Also, please send a fax thanking these individuals for their work
for Texas:


http://www.morrisonreport.com/fax_test/index.php?faxID=76

Sources:

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-cooper15-2009apr15,0,3158535.story

http://governor.state.tx.us/news/press-release/12227/

http://www.worldnetdaily.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=88218

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvliy8rEJDQ

That's it for this report. Watch your inbox next week for the next
issue of The Peter Morrison Report, a free newsletter for Texas
conservatives.

The Peter Morrison Report
http://www.petermorrisonreport.com/
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Peter-Morrison/70301468419


PO Box 8742, Lumberton, TX 77657, USA

To unsubscribe or change subscriber options visit:
http://www.aweber.com/z/r/?LKxMHCzstCyMHCyMnGxstEa0LGycLMxMrA==

Tip-toe Through the Keukenhof Tulips with Herb

(Netherlands, still) Herb sent me these pictures from his visit to Keukenhof on Saturday. He said, "When I got to the park the entrance started off crowded but once inside the gate, complete pandemonium. Crowds so heavy that people were being pushed and shoved and sometimes crushed. I got out into a cubby hole and waited it out, about 30 minutes. After that it was just fine. The place was beautiful!"

He visited the Rembrandt Museum yesterday and loved it, but I doubt he could take pictures there. He took 165 pictures at the flower park. I wish that he could have taken Nathaniel's Nikon D50 instead of my little Sony.

They Danced with Princesses

I never expected it, though I hoped.

Saturday night our Keepers group had its annual Father/Daughter Banquet. This year the theme was a Barn Social. After a delicious catered meal and lively fiddle tunes by our homeschool group's own Katie Byrd, our caller announced the first English Country Dance. I trembled lest all the dads remained seated! But they didn't. They lined up and danced eagerly and happily. They were magnificent. The daughters beamed. Everyone smiled and laughed. The moms who were helping set up the banana split bar in the kitchen peeked out and whispered to each other excitedly: "Look, look! They're having fun!"

I will be forever indebted to Mrs. Susan Addington for her organization/management of the Keepers group and our homeschool 4-H group. She is an amazing woman who blesses every family in these clubs through her hard work and sacrifice. May God bless her and her beautiful family abundantly!

I am grateful also for Mrs. Barbara Attema's careful choice of dances, her excellent calling, and her desire to share the culture of English Country Dancing.

The Happy Homesteader Models the Latest Fashion Accessories for Spring

Edwardian aprons in yellow gingham, cuddly bunnies, and sweet little chickies are all the rage this season. Don't go out without yours.

Entropy: It's Closing In

I was trying to take a picture of Emma candling an egg, but I got a picture of the Devil's face instead.
C.H.A.O.S. Can't have anyone over syndrome. (see Flylady.com)

Second definition of "entropy" from the New World Dictionary of the American Language: a measure of the degree of disorder in a substance or a system: entropy always increases and available energy diminishes in a closed system, as the universe or the Haught household.

When I arose at 5 a.m. this morning, I discovered that the waterer in the chicks' box had overflowed and soaked all the shavings and the box itself. The chicks were damp and cold. I fixed it.

Herb called from the Netherlands, and I woke Nathaniel and Emma so that they could talk to him. While Emma was on the phone I noticed a peculiar bloodstain on her shirt. I was a bit emotional, because I'm not used to Herb being away. Everything seems off kilter. Emma gave the phone back to me, and she and Nathaniel disappeared. When I hung up, they reappeared. Emma was cuddling a baby rabbit. I was confused. We've been expecting baby rabbits from one of our meat rabbits, but this one looked just like an illustration from a Beatrix Potter book. Plus, my mind wasn't quite back from the Netherlands.

Emma explained that after I went to bed last night, she heard screaming on the back porch and found the bunny in a state of shock. Our cat, China May, had caught him and wounded him. Emma had brought the bunny in, apparently snuggling his wounded self against her chest. She let him stay in our guest room overnight. That was not intentional, she claims. He got loose in there, and she couldn't catch him until this morning when she enlisted Nathaniel's help.

The blood-stained shirt, and OH NO! NOT MORE EGGS! AND THEY HAVE TO BE MARKED FOR HAND-TURNING?!!

While I fixed breakfast, Nathaniel and Emma took Baby Bunny out to the hangar and set him up in a rabbit cage. We have extra cages. We do not have extra waterers or feeders, so I must go to the feed store.

Yesterday was the hatch date for ten bantam Aracaunas, so we needed to move them from the incubator into the box that the older chicks have been occupying in the gameroom. After breakfast, Nathaniel left for school, and Emma and I set up our electric brooder in the garage. It's old and cranky and requires lots of adjustments and patience. While we were working on it, we noticed that Butter Cream, the bantam Aracauna hen that we got from Mickey with eight chicks, was screeching and pecking at her babies. Yesterday she started laying again, so I figured that she is done with brooding chicks and is longing for empty nest syndrome. So Emma and I stopped our work on the brooder; she went to the hangar and got another cage; I captured Butter Cream, to her extreme distress. I think her plan was for the chicks to leave, not herself. She glowered at me for the five minutes that it took for Emma to fetch the cage.

The only empty cage Emma found had a big opening cut out for a rabbit feeder, so Emma taped it up temporarily, and we stuck Butter Cream in it. I took her outside. Then Emma and I finished the brooder and filled the water and feed troughs. I came in the house and caught all the senior chicks. Emma placed them in the brooder after bestowing a kiss on each and every one.

I went back in the house and caught the ten new chicks in the incubator and placed them in the box. When I went back outside, headed to the garage, I noticed Butter Cream trying to defend herself from our other laying hens who were trying to peck her through her cage. I gave them each a swift kick. It was enormously satisfying.

When I got in the garage, Emma announced that the brooder light had gone out.

Hatch of the Day

Yesterday morning when I got up, two chicks had hatched. By the end of the afternoon, all ten that Emma expected had emerged. It was a lot of fun, because these were the last, and Emma had taken the turner out the night before. We didn't have to worry about getting them out immediately to prevent them being crushed. Once there got to be three or four toddling around in there, it grew quite comical, as they are so unsteady at first, they appear drunk. They bump into each other and trip over eggs that haven't hatched, lose their balance while walking backwards and fall flat on their backs, then lie there, little wings outstretched, looking pathetic until they get enough energy to flip over. Their antics reminded me of The Three Stooges.

The only problem Emma had out of all the chicks that have hatched was one little black one yesterday. He was covered in slime, and it was drying on him and gluing his beak shut and his eyes open. Emma tried wiping it off with a wet paper towel. It didn't help. Then she added some baking soda to the water. That helped, but it didn't get it all. Finally she just gave him a bath in a Pyrex measuring cup. She said he liked it. When he was clean she wrapped him up.

Little Baby Bunting is de-slimed and ready to go back in the incubator.


After ballet last night, Emma got all the incubator chicks out and gave them a drink before bed. Two or three of them decided not to wait for assistance and just hopped right in the bowl.

The Feast of St. George and Melachrino Cake

Last year for the Feast of St. George, Emma prepared a tea for her grandparents and lamented that we did not have a dragon cookie cutter. Well, we still don't. However, in our 2009 liturgical calendar, "A Catholic Calendar of Culinary Customs," there is a recipe for Melachrino Cake that we are going to try. It says that it is an old Greek recipe traditionally associated with St. George. This recipe requires 2 cups of semolina flour and two tablespoons of brandy, though, so I will have to make a road trip to procure it: we live in a dry county, and I don't think I've seen semolina in our two little grocery stores.


The brandy is used to make a syrup with orange rind, lemon juice, sugar, water, and a cinnamon stick. The hot syrup is poured over the cake and allowed to soak in. Sounds yummy.

Passport to Matrimony

At home and abroad, Americans boast about pie. It has apparently always been so. Way back in the clipper era, sailors brought home, not only heart-shaped boxes crusted over with tiny rare shells, but the pie-jaggers they had carved to while away the doldrum days in outre-mer. These implements of bone, often furnished with as many as three wheels, but marvelously precise all the same, sped the fancy cutting of lattice in many a New England cottage. Whatever the nation, skill in pastry making has been regarded as a worldwide passport to matrimony. In Hungarian villages, for example, no girl was considered eligible until her strudel dough had become so translucent that her beloved could read the newspaper through it.--Joy of Cooking, 1967 printing

I read the above excerpt this morning and was intrigued. I never knew that sailors carved kitchen utensils. I did a little bit of searching and found the picture of the pie-jagger on an auction site. It is also called a jagging tool, pie trimmer, or crimper. I found an online book that confirms the Joy of Cooking quote. It says that one sailor-carved pie-jagger was inscribed: Good Pie Well Made.

Somewhere in The Netherlands 2

The latest message from my dear husband:

Just got back to hotel, 10:24pm. It’s been pretty hard on my sleep. I would bet by the time I leave my sleep will be modified to match the local time, and I’ll have to start all over.

It really is beautiful here. We just had dinner in a town dating from the 1400’s: A little fishing village completely surrounded by water except for a small road. We walked into the town along cobblestone streets 12’ wide. Prosperous storefronts and a really old church. Very nice restaurants so far, hotel in the little fishing village. Not that expensive just really art and food.

I will try to get pictures soon. Today was just too much as we had the client with us all day.

On Hatching Chicks and Birthing Baby Humans

How hard it is to know when your well-intentioned efforts to help are actually an intervention into God's plan for bringing new life into the world!

This point has been driven home to me during the last few weeks as we have lived with an incubator full of eggs which are at different stages of gestation.

For the first day of hatching, we had four chicks pip first thing in the morning. It is a great way to start your day, as we have learned that they chirp loudly in the shell. When it seems quiet, you can pick up the egg, hold it to your ear and hear quiet chirping and a kind of Morse code being tapped out: I think they are saying L-I-F-E--I-S--G-O-O-D! Holding an egg to your ear is a vast improvement over a seashell. We have all started following Emma's lead and now talk to the birdies inside their egg cocoons, sending them words of encouragement and love. Emma tries to play soothing music for them as well and insists that hers be the first face the newly-hatched chick sees.

Back to the first hatching: We all watched as the first egg rocked on the bottom of the incubator and chipped away at his shell. It was a long ordeal, and I kept thinking how easy it would be to help him make a speedy exit to freedom. I didn't, though. He did it all by himself, and he was obviously exhausted when he finally emerged completely.

It was several more hours before the next one freed himself from the confines of his shell. This time, Emma and I were at ballet, so Herb and Nathaniel witnessed the struggle.

Then it got to be 10 p.m., and we still had two chicks which had not hatched. Emma read that chicks should hatch within 1 to 6 hours of pipping. Now we had a dilemma, part of which resulted because we "helped" Zsa-Zsa. Zsa-Zsa started setting on a reasonable number of eggs but was confounded daily by bigger hens kicking her off the nest and laying more eggs there. So when Emma robbed the nest and put all the eggs in the incubator, 25, I think, we knew there was going to be a spread of hatch dates. This presents a problem because each egg is placed upright inside four plastic posts which turn the egg regularly. Normally, all your eggs have the same hatch date, so you take out the egg turner a day or two before hatching. Otherwise you run the risk of a chick hatching and getting crushed by the turner. Emma could not remove the turner because she had younger chicks which still needed to be turned regularly. This meant that she and I hovered over the incubator to be able to remove each chick as quickly as it hatched.

So, like I said, it got to be 10 p.m., and we wanted to go to bed. We had two eggs that had good-sized cracks in them but did not seem to be making any speedy progress. We couldn't leave them to hatch on their own because they might get crushed in the turner. We began to worry that since it had been way longer than six hours, maybe the chicks were weak and would die in the shell. The clock ticked as Emma and I stood over the incubator. Finally Herb told us to help the chicks finish hatching. Emma carefully enlarged the open "seam" around one of the eggs and put it back in the incubator with no noticeable result. She waited a few minutes and helped it some more. Nothing. Finally she took off half the shell and put him back in the incubator. About ten minutes later, he finally pushed off the remainder. He looked good and seemed not to have suffered from our assistance.

Herb had gone to bed by the time we turned our attention to the last egg. I won't go into all the details of trying to help him. Emma basically had to pull him from the shell; there was a lot of blood in the shell and still uneaten yolk. The chick lay flat on the bottom of the incubator, and we thought that it was going to die. We felt HORRIBLE! Clearly, this chick was not quite ready to hatch, despite the 1-6 hour rule. It did recover completely, but all I could think of was my own birth experience with Nathaniel, when one intervention led to the next because of a stupid hospital rule mandating that I had to produce my offspring within a certain time limit.

I had a midwife and was planning a beautiful, relaxed home birth. My water broke, and nothing happened for 24 hours. At that point my midwife informed me that I had to go to the hospital, not because the baby was endangered but because her relationship with obstetricians required it. They would not provide back-up for her if she didn't follow this rule. Actually, I think their rule was 12 hours, and she fudged it for me. So off I went, crying, to the hospital where they immediately intervened with an IV of Pitocin to get my labor started. They set it on the maximum dose, because in the doctor's eyes, I was already "behind schedule". I refused any painkillers, so basically I was unaware of anything other than my own body. This went on for hours with little progress. The doctor, who was a really nice person, finally told me that he thought my refusal of anesthesia was preventing my labor from progressing, that I was fighting the labor because of the pain, which is much more intense with Pitocin. So finally I gave in and allowed the epidural. Suddenly, I was aware of everything and everybody in the room and had an overwhelming desire to read a ladies magazine and plan home decorating projects. The Pitocin still dripped away, but it caused me no discomfort. However, I made minimal progress in my labor. Finally, the doctor told me that he was sorry, but I had run out of time. The hospital had rules, and I was now confronted with having to have a c-section, which was speedily performed. The doctors could not understand why I cried through the whole thing. Nathaniel was thus brought into the world exactly on his due date. I was released three days later, an emotional and physical wreck.

I found a different doctor and hospital for Emma's birth. When I explained to the new doctor, Dr. Burch, what had happened the first time, she told me that she would have taken me off the Pitocin when my labor didn't progress and put me into a regular hospital room to rest. She said that the uterus can become completely overwhelmed by Pitocin and basically not know what to do. I firmly believe that if Dr. Burch had delivered Nathaniel, I would not have had a c-section. Dr. Burch agreed to let me labor without the customary IV and fetal monitor belt. Those two things made me miserable with Nathaniel. I told her that I wanted to be left alone as much as possible, and she agreed to that as well. The nurse only came in occasionally and held the fetal monitor on to check and then went away. It was a great relief to me. I was in and out of bed, and it was so nice not to have to deal with an IV. I was relaxed and happy. Emma was born with no interventions whatsoever and placed in my waiting arms. At that moment I could easily have named her "Euphoria". It was three weeks past her due date. I felt fabulous, physically and emotionally. I am reminded of one of my favorite silly songs, "Chug-a-lug, Chug-a-lug", by Roger Miller. It describes a young teenage boy's expserience with drinking moonshine. He takes a sip and says he "done a double backflip" and that it "makes you want to holler Hi-De-Ho!" Birthing Emmaline was like that.

There is another old song that I am reminded of as I sit here and listen to exuberant chirping. I never understood it completely until now. Today it is obvious to me that it is a song about incubating chicks. I don't know how I didn't get it before, because the song title and even the group's name make it clear:
Listen to this YouTube video, and you'll know that I'm right.

Somewhere in The Netherlands

My beloved tortured me with the following message this morning:

We are staying in an old Hunting Lodge in a small village that dates from 1658, lodge is the old land owners hunting lodge that had been converted to a lodge for hire so now has dormitory type rooms (not so great of a room but ok). The old village is what you would see like in the movies. I’ll try to get some pictures. If you can remember the village and home of the pig, “Babe” you’ll have a picture of the this area. Lots of animals, sheep, pigs, horses, cows, geese, ducks, chickens, rabbits everywhere. Lots of sheep….Emma!

Needless to say, I'll be watching "Babe" this morning.

Finding Peace

My sister beautifully shares her thoughts on being surprised by a peaceful moment. And her photo is not only striking but the perfect illustration for her words.

How Lovely are Thy Tabernacles, O Lord of Hosts!

My soul longeth and fainteth for the courts of the Lord.
Psalm 83, Douay-Rheims Bible

How much we take for granted! Before he began his homily yesterday, Fr. Peek explained that the lock on the High Altar tabernacle would not open without the help of a locksmith. In the meantime, the side altar tabernacle was being used. Unusual circumstances like this always remind me how lucky I am to be able to come to Mass and receive communion. It also reminded me that I still had tabernacle pictures to share.


The Altar of Repose. It was especially lovely on Holy Thursday night with all the candles lit.


Here's a picture of the same tabernacle without the veil. I wish I knew more about its history. It does have a memorial inscription on the top, indicating that it was donated by a family. Our friend Mickey rescued it from ebay. All I can say is that it is very, very heavy.


One of Herb's Lenten projects was to take it apart and polish it. He did a fabulous job, but you can't appreciate it because I was not bright enough to take "before" pictures. Coincidentally, I read aloud to Emma from Motherhood and Family while she was hemming the veil. One of the chapters dealt with the difference in how men and women express their spirituality. It was a big "a-ha" moment for me, as I reflected on the loving care that Herb had given the polishing.

Such a Good Daddy!

Herb surprised Emma with tickets to last night's Celtic Woman concert at the Toyota Center in Houston. About a month ago he noticed a flyer advertising the concert and knew that Emma would swoon to attend. She's still basking in the glow today, re-living the Celtic Woman glory via YouTube.

Her only concern in going last night was that she had a lone chick trying to hatch, and she didn't want to miss it. Luckily, just before they had to leave, the chick burst from its shell. It's the first black one. I was instructed to leave him in the incubator until he was good and fluffy, then put him in the box with the others.

I received this text from Emma as soon as she and Herb got seated at the Toyota Center:

How fluffy is my birdy
And what is he doing?

I responded with details and received the following message:

I'm glad to hear of his state of fluffyness and the measure of his cuteness. I hope you don't confuse him as to who his mother is.

A Year of Blah, Blah, Blah-ging

I just realized my blog had its 1-year anniversary on April 15. I often wonder why I keep doing it. Probably unsuspecting blog-hoppers wonder as well. (I can just imagine their thoughts: "What A NUT!") Only a few members of my own family read it. Ha! Good thing I'm supported by my husband. I'd starve if my living were dependent on blog visits. I'm just pig-headed enough to keep posting anyway. It does help me put some ideas to bed that otherwise plague me for days. And it keeps the Homeland Security folks busy, as I fall into a huge number of categories that mark me as a right-wing extremist: gave money to Ron Paul, voted for Chuck Baldwin, homeschool, love guns, traditional pro-life Catholic who attends a SSPX chapel. (I'm not sure if that last falls into one, two, or three categories.) Obviously, though, I'm just a hate crime/act of terrorism waiting to happen. Maybe after this post, I'll be blogging from inside a cell.

Catholic Classical Educators to be Honored

The Circe Institute announced today that Marcus and Laura Berquist are to be co-recipients of the Russell Kirk Paideia Prize For Lifetime Contribution to Classical Education.

I will be forever in Mrs. Berquist's debt for her Mother of Divine Grace lesson plans and her books Designing Your Own Classical Curriculum and The Harp and Laurel Wreath.. They have been my constant companions for much of my homeschooling years.

The Books that Got Away

I've finally updated my Shelfari bookcase. I have tried to get all the books to show together on one page, but I can't get it to do that. You have to click the "next" button that is under the shelf. Sorry.

Though I have updated the shelf, I am not reading anything new because I haven't finished the old. I am going to blame it on Emma, because she steals my books and carries them hither and yon. She finishes them; I lose track of the physical book as well as the storyline: "my" books travel through the house, into the car and maybe to Emma's bower or the camper. She has read a whole pile of "her" books since I last updated the shelf, but at this point, it is just too hard to recall all of them.

She finished In This House of Brede yesterday, so I have re-claimed it. It won't be as enjoyable now because she kept up a running commentary as she read it in the car, comparing it with the movie, etc. Oh, well.

I do remember that she read Where the Heart Is , the sequel to My Heart Lies South. I managed to complete Where the Heart Is over the course of a month when I discovered it under a pillow on the couch. It's the autographed copy that I gave Emma for her birthday, so I can't complain about her snatching it. She also read Madame Royale, a Christmas gift. I plan to start it after I finish Brede. And she read The Story of the Confederate States. That's all I can clearly remember of the books that have washed by my life raft over the past few months.

So for now, all the new books on the shelf are Emma's. She's deep into farming and costumes and The Decameron.

Poor Miss Boyle

I am one of the millions who viewed the YouTube video of Miss Susan Boyle, 47, performing I Dreamed a Dream on "Britain's Got Talent" program. Though I enjoyed the performance, I was struck more by the rudeness of the judges and audience when they saw that she did not conform to the modern world's idea of how women should look. She was wearing a modest dress and pumps and no visible makeup.

Today I read a London Telegraph article about her. The caption under her picture stated that Miss Boyle "admits" that she has never been kissed. Good grief! It sounds like she is guilty of a crime. It gets worse: In the body of the article it was revealed that Miss Boyle has never been on a date. Horrors! The woman is definitely a freak! If only she were divorced, half-naked, tattooed, pierced, and living with her boyfriend. Then she could be "normal".

This is how the Telegraph article described Miss Boyle's performance:

Her eccentric ways and less than polished appearance drew sniggers from the audience when she initially appeared but they were mesmerised from the moment she broke into song and gave her a standing ovation.

That's right. They didn't approve of her looks or her maidenhood, but they decided to make an exception because of her extraordinary vocal talent. Mighty tolerant of them!

Missing Chicks

This morning I got up and checked on the chicks to find that their box was empty. We have it set up in the gameroom next to the incubator.

My first thought was that the cat had gotten them, but I realized that everything was too orderly for that to have happened. The waterer was still upright. There were no shavings on the carpet. . .no blood.

I couldn't think where else they could be, though, and be as warm and safe as their box.

I hated to wake up Emma, but I had to find out if she had put the chicks in her room. I opened her door expecting to find another box and lamp set up by her bed. There was not one, and I began to worry.

"Emma," I said.

No response.

"Emma," I said again, a little more urgently.

"What?" she answered drowsily.

"I can't find the chicks," I said.

"I have them," she answered.

"Where?" I asked, looking around her bed.

"Right here," she said, patting the top of her nightshirt, where I could barely make out a peculiar bulge.

"You have all four chicks in there?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"How did you sleep like that?" I questioned.

"Very easily," she said.

Ron Paul at Clear Lake Tea Party

Herb took these pictures with his phone. Click on the bottom picture to enlarge and see Ron Paul in the background wearing a red shirt and navy slacks. He warned of the collapse of the dollar and encouraged support for his bill, HR 1207, which requires a legitimate audit of the Federal Reserve System.

Time After Time

Nathaniel, Emma, and I all like Placido Domingo's rendition of this standard.

The lyrics are simple but meaningful to me. Herb and I will celebrate our 30th anniversary this year.

Seeds of (Obama's) Change

I didn't want to believe it when I saw the headline on St. Patrick's Day. But it's true. The government is planning to inspect and tax home vegetable gardens. Chuck Baldwin explains it here.

For background information on the threat of Big Ag, read this.

A Mother's Work is Never Done

You have to sing to the baby



and introduce him to his older cousins;



make sure he gets plenty to drink, while remembering to take pictures of "Baby's First Sip" for posterity,



and when all that is done, get ready to do it with all the siblings.



Then you stay up til 1 A.M. to make sure that they're not cold or hot or weak or unable to find the food, or in danger from their siblings. Exhausting, but soooo fulfilling to little mothers.

In Mickey's Kitchen, the Cross is Sweet

On Holy Saturday, we went to Mickey's so that he could show Nathaniel, Emma, Barbara, and Anna how he decorates chocolate crosses for Easter. First, though, Emma, Barbara, and Anna all took Mickey's canoe adventuring around Dickinson Bayou. Emma and Barbara had gone the evening before, first fortifying themselves on the victuals at Mickey's annual Good Friday Backyard Seafood Buffet. Emma ended up in the water after Herb "helped" the girls disembark. So this time, Emma wore her swimsuit. It was a good thing, because she sat in the bottom of the boat, and it took on a fair amount of water.

Mickey uses Wilton decorator icing and demonstrates the vine, leaves, and flowers technique on a paper towel.

The students follow suit. Keeping enough pressure on the tube to prevent gaps in the vine seems to be the hardest part.

After they had completed the paper towel practice, they folded them in half and psycho-analyzed the resulting designs.





See Barbara's beautiful butterfly!

Nathaniel looks innocent, but notice the tube of blue decorator icing in his hands and the strange blue "shadow" on Anna's forearm.




After the students passed the paper towel lesson, Mickey trimmed the crosses that he had molded earlier from Wilton chocolate.

Anna follows instructions.

The finished products. Always the rebel, Nathaniel skipped the vine and leaves, loaded the bottom of his cross with flowers, then wiped them off and substituted three stripes. It's a good, masculine design.

The crosses are allowed to dry for a day or two before being inserted into individual plastic bags and tied with a pretty ribbon.

He's Sooooo Cute!

Chicks Pipping