Since I Believe in Miracles. . .

I'm praying that Bishop Fellay will be our next Pope.

Via Rorate Caeli, an excerpt from an interview by Italian News Agency "Apcom" with Bishop Bernard Fellay, Superior General of the Society of St. Pius X:

[Apcom:] Do you consider that in the Vatican there is an excessive sensibility regarding the expectations of the Jewish world, in the "Williamson affair" as well as concerning the Good Friday prayer?

[Fellay:] Yes, I do think so. I am myself embarrassed - after that which took place in the case of Bishop Williamson - when I see Jews who concern themselves with matters of the Catholic Church. It is not their religion. Leave us alone [lasciare in pace].They are matters which concern the Catholic Church. If we wish to pray for the Jews, we will pray for the Jews, in the manner we see fit. I do not know if they pray for us, but I would say that this is their problem.

It was Fascination, I Know

Tea parties, horse races, a night at the theatre. . . all perfect occasions to maximize your feminine style with a fascinator. Here are three ways to make one, from Simplicity to burda, to an independent crafter.

Photo from simplicity.com

One More Good Thing Before He Goes

This Sunday, Aug. 2, our parish feast day, is Fr. Stanich's last Sunday at Queen of Angels. We will have a rosary procession after Mass to honor our patroness and for the intentions of the SSPX rosary crusade. Then we will celebrate our parish feast day with a barbecue cookoff and chess tournament. It is the last in a series of ideas that Fr. Stanich has implemented to build unity in our parish and to teach us how to celebrate as Catholics.

Fr. Stanich also worked tirelessly to improve the parish academy, adding eleventh grade this fall. He got the students involved in volleyball and soccer tournaments.

Then he organized a multi-state youth choir that practices individually, then meets at one parish to practice together and sing a special high Mass. I have heard that this will continue after Father leaves and that some Syracuse youth will join.

We did not have a schola before Fr. Stanich came, and if he did not institute one other improvement, training and developing the schola would have been enough. Even as Father prepares to leave, the schola has been enriched by new, young voices.

What a legacy Fr. Stanich leaves us!

I was discussing this with another parishioner yesterday, and she believes that Fr. Stanich has laid a foundation for our parish that has prepared us to really grow spiritually, and that is why we are going to benefit so much from Fr. Zendejas's pastorage, who comes to us from the SSPX's Ridgefield, CT, retreat center. I agree with her. I like to consider how the gifts of individual priests are used by our Lord for our benefit. Although I hate to lose them when they are transferred, I see the benefit for the parish as a whole, if we can hold on to what we have learned and graciously receive what the new priest brings. May that be so.

A Dairy Good Education

This video by Everything Jesus Ranch explains some of the advantages of raw milk and how running a dairy makes it possible to provide tuition-free education for the students at its academy. I was happily impressed.

Gene Recognition

Nathaniel is going through a stage where he looks like his Uncle Mike Haught. My youngest sister couldn't tell them apart at a distance, although this picture doesn't convey the resemblance as much as seeing them together in real life does.

A few weeks ago, I kept seeing my cousin Carter Somerset in Nathaniel. Without me mentioning it, my mom noticed the same thing. All these changes and glimpses of relatives in your children is simply fascinating.

I remember when Nathaniel, about age 5, saw his Uncle Bruce Haught and shouted "Daddy!" We had pulled up to my in-law's auto parts store, and Nathaniel saw Bruce through the glass door. At the time, I couldn't see the resemblance between Bruce and my husband. Yet to Nathaniel, it was overwhelming.

Ten Things That You Never Really Wanted to Know about Me

Emily G gave me an "award". With awards like this who needs pain and suffering?

The Rules:

* Thank the person who gave you the award
* Post 10 honest facts about yourself
* Pass the award on to 7 others

Thank you, Emily, for this fine award. I truly don't deserve it.


TEN HONEST FACTS ABOUT ME (as opposed to the dishonest ones that I prefer, like I'm 5 foot, eight inches tall and 120 pounds.)

1. When we first began the homesteading adventure in Louisiana, I used to fix a big pot of hot oatmeal for a butcher pig we were raising whenever it was really cold out. It made her smile, which made me smile, and we both got a great start to the day, smiling across the steam.

2. I looked forward to Friday nights as a child because old Mrs. Pitzer always came to babysit, and we got to eat TV dinners (loved Salisbury steak especially) and watch "Tarzan." Oh, and "Tammy".

3. I once disobeyed my grandfather and went down to the railroad track to hunt for hobos. I had seen their campfires and empty food cans under the overpass and was simply dying for REAL adventure. Big mistake. If Granddaddy ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy.

4. I used to sell stuff all by myself at the flea market every weekend when I was about ten. My uniform: a two-piece swimsuit, Keds, and a sailor hat. My friend in the first booth, the lady with the long black hair, loose skin, and no teeth, named me Lil Flea. I dutifully wrote "Lil Flea" across the brim of my sailor hat with black marker. It was Florida in the 60s/70s. What can I say?

5. I asked my husband if we could please live in a yurt, but he said, "No".

6. I adore giant gas ranges from the 40s and 50s. I asked my husband if I could get one, but he said, "No".

7. On our honeymoon, we spent one night in a roadside hotel called Granny Squirrel's. The exterior featured a huge, brighlty colored mural of squirrels. I asked Herb if we could go back for our 30th anniversary, but he said, "No." Do you see a pattern here?

8. When I was in high school I worried a lot about world peace. Kidding! I worried about keeping a good tan. Sometimes I had to skip school to maintain it.

9. When I was about 4, my dad had a dinner guest over. I have been told that I looked him over carefully across the dining room table and then told him, "You're bald-headed, and you have big ears, too".

10. I fell out of my parents Piper Pacer airplane when I was really little. That explains 1-9. OK, the plane was on the ground, but still. . .

I tag Cajun Cottage and Fotofule.

Healing the Hurt When Addicts Withdraw

My friend Cay beautifully shares the story of her nephew Aaron's addiction.

I was especially thankful that she included how her children felt about Aaron's withdrawal from the family. My children and my other nieces and nephews felt that with Corey, too, taking it personally. Hopefully, Cay's post and mine will help other families realize that it is just symptomatic of the disease, nothing else.

I am kicking myself for not seeking Corey out and overwhelming him with assurances of our love. Instead, I let him dictate the relationship, thinking we had time. Though Beverly and I are very close, she was reticent about Corey's illness. She and Stephen essentially carried this heavy burden alone for years. The distance between our homes--from Houston to Birmingham, also worked against us.

Corey's sister Caitlin, my daughter Emma, and my niece Kaley spent a good deal of time studying the family photos at Corey's funeral. It was a start on putting it all in perspective, trying to mend the hole that Corey's suffering and death left in the fabric of our family--not closing Corey out, just stitching around the raw edges.

That, I am happy to report, seems to be how the family is handling this tragedy. We are pulling together, seeking each other out across the miles and trying our best to move forward. I think we have all grown in charity, with a new awareness and sensitivity to the trials of others.

Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto thine.

There but for the Grace of God, Go I: What the B'ham News Didn't Say

I have read the Birmingham News report of my nephew Corey Wittkop's death, including the negative comments that follow it. Although it was very painful to read, I respect the writers' feelings. I ask that they respect mine by not commenting here. I especially want to extend my sincere gratitude to the anonymous person whose office looks out onto the parking lot where Corey died. This person took the time to write a very moving condolence card to Corey's parents that brought them great comfort. May God bless this kind soul.

I felt strongly as I was trying to absorb the news of Corey's death last week, that my sister Beverly, Corey's mother, would make something positive happen because of it. Though in the depths of mourning, she asked me to share this information on addiction on my blog. She said, "This knowledge resonated with me when I first heard it. Being a nurse, knowing a little neuro-anatomy, I finally understood what was happening to my son."

Corey was tortured by alcohol addiction and depression, both of which run in my family. One of my paternal great-grandfathers was an alcoholic. I believe one or two of his sons were alcoholics. My mother was adopted, but her biological father was an alcoholic.

I spent about an hour reading the articles and watching the videos. The video interview with Nora D. Volkow, M.D., Director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) at the National Institutes of Health, was especially informative. NIDA supports most of the world's research on the health aspects of drug abuse and addiction. Dr. Volkow says that addiction, whether alcohol or other drugs, causes dramatic changes in the brain. Coupled with depression, addiction is a voracious monster.

In the article, "Addiction and the Brain's Pleasure Pathway: Beyond Willpower", Dr. Volkow says, "A person takes a drug of abuse, be it marijuana or cocaine or even alcohol, activating the same brain circuits as do behaviors linked to survival, (emphasis mine) such as eating, bonding and sex. The drug causes a surge in levels of a brain chemical called dopamine, which results in feelings of pleasure. The brain remembers this pleasure and wants it repeated."

"Eventually," Dr. Volkow says, "the drive to seek and use the drug is all that matters, despite devastating consequences."

You will find much, much more information by following the link I provided above. However, I know that many people will not have time to read further, and so I wanted to provide an idea of what kind of problem alcoholism is. It is not about willpower. It is a disease of the brain.

Learning this was very helpful in understanding how a good boy like Corey, from a loving, supportive family, could do things that were totally incompatible with his personality and upbringing, and this despite years of seeking help from a wide variety of places, from Alcoholics Anonymous to extended residential treatment. He desperately wanted to change his life and had been studying the Bible. He longed to "win back his girl", marry, and raise a family. He sought and accepted the guidance of his parents, even on the day he died in a grocery store robbery which ended with him taking his own life. He was weary and ashamed of his inability to kill the tiger that daily tormented him.

I ask for your prayers for Corey, his robbery victims, his parents and sister, and all those who loved him and are trying to understand how this could happen. I have come to the realization that it could just have easily been one of my children. Both are at high risk for alcoholism from both sides of their family. I also ask that you join me in talking openly about alcohol addiction. We need to get over the stigma, which is a substantial barrier to getting treatment for this devastating disease. This stigma can cause the addict and his family to feel extremely isolated, just when they most need support.

No one in my family approves of or offers excuses for Corey's criminal activity. We are so grateful that, as far as we know, he did not injure anyone. On behalf of the family, I offer our sincere apologies for any crime he committed. I can not imagine the terror he must have caused by robbing at gunpoint. It is just one more aspect of this tragedy that we are trying to deal with. At the same time, I have compassion for Corey, and I forgive him.

Despite the way he died, there was much good--so much to be thankful for--in Corey's life. There are many happy memories that I cherish.

Here I am with newborn Corey. Loving and being loved by him changed me forever in wonderful ways.
This was about the age that I remember Corey eagerly singing "Daddy's Homecoming": I'm so glad when Daddy comes home, glad as I can be. I clap my hands, shout for joy, and climb upon his knee. One of my favorite pictures from Corey's happy boyhood, taken by his doting Uncle Bill.
Here he is with his baby sister Caitlin. She's grown up now, and he was always so proud of her.
Corey swinging my daughter Emma during a visit to my parent's river camp.
Corey cut my son Nathaniel's hair and also cousin Tucker's hair one year when we all visited my sister Lisa. He wasn't a barber; he just enjoyed it. He regularly cut his dad's hair, and it was done so carefully, so tenderly, that it was one of the things that Stephen talked about at Corey's funeral.
Beverly and Corey on her back deck. Corey was famous among friends and family for his fabulous hugs.
Corey and his dad, Stephen, on the front walk at home last Thanksgiving.

This was taken at Corey's aunt's house in Huntsville at a family get-together last January or December. He had a hard time going to such things, as he did not feel worthy of love. After his death, Beverly found that he had written inside one of his ball caps, "Just for today". It is a phrase that he learned from Alcoholics Anonymous.

Eternal rest grant him, O Lord
And may perpetual light shine upon him.
May the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.

I love you, Corey. Always.

See "Julie and Julia" Free

I became a big fan of Julia Child last year after reading her book, My Life in France. It prompted me to purchase her magnum opus, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. My enthusiasm for her teaching eventually led to a group cooking class for my children and the daughter of a "foodie" friend, who taught the class.

Naturally I was thrilled to see that a movie about Julia Child is coming out next month. I was especially happy to see that the idea of learning to cook from Mastering the Art is woven into the movie by the character of Julie.
I watched the trailer and immediately contacted my friend about going to the movie opening on Aug. 7 as a "field trip" for our little cooking class. She was as excited as I, and we have laid our plans.

However, for those who can't wait, I saw today that Houston Whole Foods locations are giving away coupons to see the movie early, July 27. They may be obtained today, starting at noon. Here's a link to the info. The offer does not appear to be available at all stores. If you don't live in Houston, call your Whole Foods location to inquire.

Making Time for Beauty

My friend Pat, who has spent more hours on the road taking her children to concerts, plays, operas, and ballets than any person I have ever known, forwarded me an e-mail. I paid special attention because in the eight years or so that we have been friends, Pat has never forwarded me anything before. She always writes luscious, newsy letters. The e-mail was about a 2007 experiment with beauty involving violinist Joshua Bell playing incognito in a D.C. Metro station. How many commuters would stop and listen?

What follows is the content of the e-mail with the addition of an underlined link I inserted that will take you to the original news story and video:

Washington DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.

4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the till and, without stopping, continued to walk.

6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.


10 minutes:
A 3 year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly, as the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced them to move on.

45 minutes:
The musician played. Only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace.
He collected $32.

1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities. The questions raised: in a common-place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made ....
How many other things are we missing?

My own conclusion is that we are missing a lot, and that it is symptomatic of the destruction of our Christian culture. As Gary Potter explains so well in 'The Greatest that Ever Lived' (The Apotheosis of Michael Jackson), great music, great art, and great literature were all enjoyed by the common people at the height of Christian civilization. It was not lost on me that the people who walked by Joshua Bell were, for the most part, Washington D.C. bureaucrats.

Sweetness and Light: Understanding Agave, HFCS, and Year-Round "Honey"

I started using Agave "nectar" earlier this year when I got serious about avoiding artificial sweeteners, refined white sugar, and high fructose corn syrup (HFCS). Once we had our own honey supply, I quit using Agave. Shortly after I did this, I read two articles that explained how Agave is a fraud as far as natural sweeteners go; it is not a true nectar, and it does not necessarily have a low-glycemic index. Read more here.

DON'T FEED THE BEES

This article in Nourishing Traditions explains why you should avoid HFCS and agave. Furthermore, it says that honey "whether USDA-certified or not, in various grades, is only produced in the mid spring to late summer, when the biological materials are readily available for bees to digest, convert and regurgitate."

Honey production the rest of the year comes from "feeding bees refined sucrose or refined crystallized or liquid HFCS during the months when pollen and nectar are not available. The bees then run the sweetener through their digestive tracts. The resulting product is labeled as honey but it may not have the same quality as natural honey. Higher levels of refined fructose in honey cause accelerated Maillard browning reactions when heated above 140 degrees F."

I don't see how honey produced from feeding bees sugar could help with allergies. That comes from them feeding on pollen. So it does seem to me that sugar-fed bees produce a different product from those that gather nectar and pollen from plants.

After three days eating our honey, Emma, who measures her sinus congestion by how far up the piano keyboard she can sing, added three notes to her range. So we will add hives until we are able to harvest enough honey to meet our yearly needs. Until then, we will supplement by purchasing raw honey from local beekeepers who do not feed their bees.

There Is A Balm In Gilead

In memory of my first sweet baby boy, my nephew Corey Wittkop. August 29, 1993-July 14, 2009.

My heart grew three sizes the day he was born.

Costume Ball Cancelled

According to a Houston Area Traditional Dance Society notice, the Old River/Winfree Founders Day dance is cancelled due to the shooting death of a Chambers County Deputy Sheriff earlier this week.

Are Your Hens "Layin' Like a House Afire"?

Or do you just dread going on vacation and having to leave a refrigerator full of $3 or $4/dozen organic eggs? Here's a handy tip for preserving them from Reader's Digest:

Medium eggs are just the right size to freeze in plastic ice cube trays with one egg in each cell, with no spillover. After they freeze, pop them out into a self-sealing plastic bag. Defrost as many as you need when the time comes.

Though the tip doesn't mention it, I would definitely use a freezer bag

A variation of this method is to whisk the eggs first, like you are going to scramble them, and then freeze as directed above. I'm going to try both ways and see if I can tell any difference. The variation seems like it would be the way to go if you have eggs that are larger than medium. It would also be a good option for taking eggs along in the RV.

"Layin' Like a House Afire" is a phrase I remember from an essay by E. B. White.

Beware of Cheap Polyester Imposters

when you're shopping for ties.

Find more great tie-shopping tips in this article from A Tailored Suit.

Chipotle Restaurants Sponsor Free Screenings of Food Inc.

Thanks to Hammond Farm for this tip:

In Houston, you can see it tonight, July 15, at the Angelika in downtown Houston, 7:30 p.m. Go to Chipotle's site to see other locations for free admission to the movie that I reviewed here. Avoid the previews if you can.

Re-thinking College: It's Not for Everybody

"I'm not arguing against higher learning but for it -- and against the degree system that stands in its way," Jack Hough

Remember the board game LIFE? Mr. Hough's New York Post opinion piece makes his point with a comparison of two typical high school graduates. One goes to college, the enters the workforce and saves.

I've written about the college dilemma before, mostly from the perspective that all young women should not be expected to go to college. Jack Hough takes the argument a step further.

Watch and Pray: Enjoy a Visit with Bishop Williamson

Stephen Heiner of True Restoration is posting a series of video interviews with Bishop Williamson. I watched the second one yesterday. It was a great treat for me. Before I ever attended a traditional Mass, I found his letters online and eagerly read them. They refreshed and instructed me with their clear teaching. Happily, they are now available in book form through True Restoration Press.

Bishop Williamson confirmed my children. I know of no other priest or bishop who has so profoundly moved them to think about what it means to be Catholic in the modern world. At their confirmation, he made a point of turning off the air conditioning and the microphone as he talked about Catholic truth and reality. They have NEVER forgotten it.

While I understand that the mission of the SSPX as an organization has been jeopardized by Bishop Williamson's remarks about the Holocaust, he still has enormous gifts to share with the faithful. I hope the Society does consecrate another bishop to take his former responsibilities. And I hope they create a post for him that will give him the most access to the faithful. Instead of traveling the globe for ordinations and confirmations, it would be fabulous if he could just give conferences at parishes--if his freedom to travel without risk of prosecution is ever restored. There is a desperate need for his advice. For instance, in Dec. of 2007, he wrote about the coming economic collapse and gave advice on how to prepare. I believe that Catholics who write him off because of conspiracy theories are "cutting off their nose to spite their face".

His Excellency really shines in the outdoor setting of this second interview, with the birds singing. In the midst of a serious explanation of the problems with college, he slipped in a line that had me laughing out loud. No, I won't spoil it.

He also talks about the economy and poetry. I came away from it recharged for the battle and looking forward to the next interview.

Hot Flashes of Insight Into Modern Medicine: It Ain't Catholic

A little off-the-wall humor for "mature" readers.

While at a garage waiting for the oil to be changed in my car the other day, I flipped through a "ladies" magazine in the lobby and read some health-related articles. What an eye-opener!

Having gone through pregnancy and birth, I already knew that the medical establishment has turned reproduction into a disease that must be monitored, medicated, and sanitized. Now I know that they have done the same for menopause. After all, there is no money to be made with normalcy!

I'll take a wee bit of artistic license here and there and tell you what I learned during those fifteen minutes with the magazine:

"Do you have hot flashes?
Ask your doctor about prescribing anti-seizure and anti-depressant medication."

I'm not making that up! They even included the specific brand names to ask for. And you thought the hot flashes were bad? Just wait til you see the side effects for their control! In other words, after you are driven to suicide, you will no longer be bothered with those pesky hot flashes.

I can still remember being perturbed as a teenager by the Midol commercials that said it was designed for the times "before, during, and after."

"Let's see," I remember thinking, "that could cover every day of the month!"

Midol was just baby, over-the-counter stuff, though, a stepping stone to more lucrative products. Where does it all end? The answer to one magazine reader's question is revealing:

Questioner: Now that I'm 50 years old, may I please get off the pill?"

Expert: "Oh, NO! You must stay on it til you're 55 or 60. Don't even think about getting off until you haven't had a period for a year! You wouldn't want to (GASP!) get pregnant, would you?!"

My imagined response:

Questioner: "No, no, of course not! Not a BABY! How awful! How horrifying! How un-American! Please, Lord, just forget the whole Abraham and Sarah thing! I'll take my chances with the increased risk of breast cancer instead! After all, there's a whole lot of sympathy for the woman with breast cancer. There is nothing but disgust for the woman who carries her own baby and an AARP card!"

I don't know what the chances of pregnancy are after 50, but I'm guessing they are exceedingly slim. But Big Pharma wants to maximize sales to every woman, so keep popping those pills. The corporate economy depends on it.

Family Fun: A Period Costume Ball with Live Music and Contra Dancing

It's part of the Old River-Winfree Founders' Day Celebration and is set for Saturday, July 18. Find all the details here. The location is just east of Houston. Thanks to HATDS for the tip and this link to a map. HATDS members receive free admission. Otherwise, it is $5.00.

More Priestly Changes at SSPX's Dickinson Priory

Fr. Gregory Post, who has been at Queen of Angels since 1992, will be transferred to Syracuse, NY, this fall where he will join our outgoing pastor, Fr. Stephen Stanich, who is due to leave in August. Fr. Post has been traveling every weekend for years. His current duties include the Memphis-Nashville-Little Rock circuit. He has well earned the "easier load" that our bulletin says the Syracuse assignment promises.

Replacing him will be Fr. Pierre N'dong Ondo from Our Lady of Sorrows Church and Retreat House in Phoenix. He is originally from Gabon, Africa.

Fr. Zendejas, from the St. Ignatius Retreat House in Ridgefield, CT, is still tentatively assigned to replace Fr. Stanich here.

If all stays as planned, not only will we have two Fr. Z's, we may earn the distinction of being the American SSPX chapel with the most unusual priests' names: Fr. Zendejas, Fr. Zigrang, and Fr. N'dong Ondo. Thank goodness for Fr. Peek!

We may also achieve some new spiritual bragging rights: a chapel with two experienced retreat center priests. We have a lot to look forward to in the confessional.

Finally, with Fr. Zendejas being from Mexico and Fr. N'dong Ondo from Africa, we may finally have some priests who can take the Texas heat.

Great News for Houston-Area Beekeepers

Wabash Antiques and Feed Store on Washington Avenue in Houston is carrying a full line of Dadant Beekeeping Supplies, even brooders and supers. The general manager, who is a beekeeper himself and a member of the Houston Beekeepers Association, says that the store sends its own truck to Dadant to retrieve them. This is a great plus for the home beekeeper, because commercial orders are filled first by Dadant. This means that a small order could take 4-6 weeks to be filled, as it was in our case, and can also come with a hefty shipping fee if you are ordering a "get-started kit". The retail price at Wabash is slightly higher but there is an overall savings because of the shipping. Plus you get invaluable beekeeping advice.

The other good news is that the manager told me that the bee supplies are selling phenomenally well. The store initially placed an $8,000 order. In four months they have sold $100,000 worth. (All figures are wholesale).

I believe that people who would not normally consider a backyard hive will consider it when they happen upon all the supplies while visiting the store. I witnessed this yesterday when a dad got excited when he saw them and started asking questions. Unfortunately, his teenaged daughter quickly nipped his enthusiasm in the bud. You would have thought by her reaction that he wanted to start a tarantuala farm!

The Blue Bowl

I had intended to post this yesterday. I am trying to re-focus on my domestic role, and I found the thoughts in this poem, "The Blue Bowl" so beautifully expressed what I want to do. This morning I read Emily G's post on the husband/wife relationship, and I was reminded of it. It's funny how often other bloggers are thinking about the same things.

The Blue Bowl

By Blanche Bane Kuder

All day I did the little things,

The little things that do not show;

I brought the kindling for the fire,

I set the candles in a row,

I filled a bowl with marigolds--

The shallow bowl you love the best--

And made the house a pleasant place

Where weariness may take its rest.



The hours sped on, my eager feet

Could not keep pace with my desire.

So much to do, so little time!

I could not let my body tire;

Yet, when the coming of the night

Blotted the garden from my sight,

And on the narrow, graveled walks

Between the guarding flower stalks

I heard your step; I was not through

With services I meant for you.



You came into the quiet room

That glowed enchanted with the bloom

Of yellow flame. I saw your face,

Illumined by the firelit space,

Slowly grow still and comforted--

"It's good to be at home," you said.

Illegal Aliens and Criminal CEOs

According to the Peter Morrison Report, Sen. John Cornyn is taking heat from his constituents here for supporting immigration legislation that does not immediately deport the illegal alien.

In describing the problem, Mr. Morrison says, "Frankly, most incumbents in Washington, both Democrat and Republican, have no credibility on this issue. Many Republican incumbents want to cater to the Cheap Labor Lobby, while Democrats want future voters through the inevitable anchor baby citizens and chain migration that alien labor produces. Voters should trust the analysis of independent groups like NumbersUSA over the staff of an incumbent looking to insulate his backside from grassroots heat."

I perked up when he mentioned the phrase "Cheap Labor Lobby".

As I was reminded of in the movie Food, Inc., we have corporations who routinely advertise in Mexico for job openings in the United States and actually bus the newly-hired into our country. Then, routine "raids" are conducted every so often to arrest and deport a select few of the workers, just to keep up appearances.

Yes, let's deport illegal aliens. But first, let's arrest and punish the two-bit, no good, yellow-bellied sapsucker CEOs of the companies who purposely bring them here.

She's Going to Have a Cow!

Emma pulled her friends close after church on Sunday and whispered excitedly. I wondered what it was about. Then one word escaped their snug circle, floated on the air toward me and slipped into my straining ear. (The straining ear is a chronic condition of motherhood.)

"Cow."

"Oh," I told Herb. "She's telling them that you have finally given in and are letting her get a cow."

So Emma is feverishly cow shopping. She found a Dexter that she likes. Dexters are related to the Kerry and are good dual-purpose cows. She is also looking at Jerseys. Besides high-quality milk, she likes them because they have pretty faces with long eyelashes. Unattractive cows will not be considered.

The cute cow candidate must be good-natured, accustomed to being hand-milked, and enjoy being sung to. Being amenable to wearing be-ribboned straw hats and other accessories is a plus, but not required.


A RELATED STORY

Emma peruses a cow forum regularly now and has been researching the benefits of raw milk. I'm seeing early development of homeschool mom syndrome in her. After more than an hour studying the testimony of two expert witnesses in a raw milk court case, she reported that it was time well spent, as she had covered science, law, and politics. She mentioned a couple of other subjects, but I disremember them.

Checkin', Squeezin', and Eatin'

When Emma went to check on the bees the other day, she discovered ants were getting in the hive.

Nathaniel hunted up a trash-can lid to put under it, and Herb re-situated the hive in it.

Emma filled the lid with water. She said there aren't many bees inside, but the ones who are there are working. We still need to get another box to go under the one we have. To save time, we're going to go to a commercial beekeeper and see if we can buy one.

Though we're not making much progress toward living in "the bee-loud glade", we're enjoying squeezing the honeycomb. . .


and eating the honey. I've been making pancakes using a recipe that Pleasant Hill Grain sent me with my Bosch Universal mixer. I love it because you put the whole wheat berries right in your blender with the milk and process for four minutes before you add your other ingredients. Don't try this unless you have a Bosch or an equally-powerful blender. You get to eat the wheat before it's had any time to lose nutrients from being ground! I've been adding an extra egg and a handful of oats, making a pretty nutrient-dense pancake. No one can usually eat more than two. Of course, part of that is because I always serve them with some scrambled eggs from our dear hens.

A Heap o' Sun and Shadder

Thursday morning, after we robbed the bees, Mr. Keenon, Ryan, and I were sitting around a table in my backyard visiting. Emma and the Keenon sisters were sitting on the grass nearby while Emma showed them how her miniature loom works. Nathaniel had gone inside to get ready for work.

It was very peaceful. I was still on this kind of high from the excitement and wonder of our time with the bees. I saw our experience in a kind of golden glow--we had sucked the marrow of life, nourished the vital spark, approached the Light through our close encounter with His handiwork.

Then, one of the Keenon girls spotted a possum, and Emma ran inside to get Nathaniel to shoot it. This is normally the way we deal with possums, but Herb is always home when we do, because possums come out at night.

I was still deliberating over whether to have Nathaniel shoot the possum, when I realized that the girls had treed it; Nathaniel had appeared wielding a crowbar, and Ryan was shinnying up the tree armed with what looked like an old wooden shovel handle. Clearly, the teenagers believed in action and had taken the matter into their own hands.

Vastly relieved that I didn't have to make any gun decisions without my husband, I joined the circle around the tree.

Po' lil' possum!

Ryan shook the branches and swiped at the possum with the tool handle. I don't know which measure finally effected the possum's fall, but it dropped on the ground in front of Nathaniel, and he gave it a mighty whack with the crowbar.

I shivered.

I hated that he had to die, but he did. Possums are horrible predators of chickens, and they don't even eat them. They just kill them and leave a bloody mess. Plus, I was worried about the reason this possum was out in broad daylight. Did it have rabies?

Because of this fear of rabies, we decided to burn the body. Nathaniel carried the possum by the tail, trailing blood, to one of our burn sites. He laid it down, and everybody piled sticks, leaves, and hay on top of it, followed by a "tee-pee" of small firewood. Mr. Keenon lit the straw. Five teenagers, Mr. Keenon, and I stood in a circle around the funeral pyre, waiting to make sure the fire started.

Although I was sure that we were doing the right thing, as I looked around the circle, I couldn't help thinking that this was really odd and that we should be making s'mores instead, singing blithely.

I didn't want our golden morning with the bees to have this dark shadow of possum murder cast over it.

But it did, and I have been bothered off and on since then with the odd feeling it gave me. Yesterday, the first verse of an Edgar Guest poem sprang into my head:

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun and shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything."

Though there is nothing mentioned of possums in this simple poem, the theme is that it is the combination of the good and bad things experienced together at home that makes home so dear.

And so the killing of a possum on a summer's morning plays its part in that. It is no less a thing than robbing the bees. Both events will become part of the "heap o' sun and shadder" in my memory. May God help me to embrace it all.

Remembering the Execution of St. Thomas More

Durendal covers it here with the added bonus of two video clips--one from the movie, A Man for All Seasons, one from "The Tudors" television series.

It would be a great time to start reading A Daughter's Love: Thomas More and His Dearest Meg by John Guy. The book's prologue opens on an August morning in 1535 with Meg retrieving her father's skull from the bridge-master of London Bridge where it had been displayed. On previous visits she had recognized the skulls of John Houghton, Prior of the London Carthusians, and Bishop John Fisher.

Some Clarification on Viewing Food, Inc. with Children

In my review of Food, Inc., I recommended taking children to see it. I want to clarify that. I took my "children", who are 18 and 16. I think children younger than that could certainly benefit, but it's the kind of movie that parents will have to discern for themselves if it would be appropriate. I would have taken mine when they were elementary school-aged, but we had raised pigs, chickens, and turkeys for meat and had butchered the chickens and turkeys ourselves.

Another area that parents will need to think about before taking children is the previews. We were subjected to some pretty riske' ones. I go to the movie theatre so rarely that I always forget about the previews until they start. I have resolved that for the next one I will try waiting outside the door until the movie begins!

A Movie That Could Save Your Life

If you enjoy horror films, you will like the documentary, Food, Inc.

Although I knew much of the information that was covered in the movie from years of reading the alternative press, it is different to know it with your eyes, on a theatre-sized screen. The footage of the poultry houses, the chicken processing plants, the feed lots, and the pig slaughter houses were strong enough to make the point about the perils of factory food without any explanation.

The premise of Food, Inc., is that multi-national fast-food corporations are dictating farm policy. Because they are the biggest purchasers of beef, chicken, potatoes, etc., they exert enormous pressure on the government, which writes the farm bill to cater to their needs. Thus, corn is subsidized to the degree that it sells for less than it costs to produce it. It makes corn so cheap that food producers look for ways to use it in everything. That's why it is hard to buy anything without some form of corn being listed on the label, though you may not recognize it. And of course, the meat producers feed it to their animals. It makes them fat. It also is the main reason that e-coli has become the problem that it is. Cattle are not meant to eat grain. They are designed to flourish on grass. Feeding them grain is what causes most of the new e-coli that has been killing people.

Independent farmer Joel Salatin was interviewed and pointed out how the whole philosophy of factory farming is geared to efficiency and supporting the system that is in place. He said that they never ask "Why?". Because of this flawed philosophy, when confronted with the e-coli problem, instead of feeding the cattle grass, they manufacture a filler for ground beef that is laced with ammonia to kill the e-coli.

The role that subsidized corn plays in our healthcare costs was explored. The consumer is confronted with the contradiction of junk food being cheap, and real food being expensive, all because government subsidies skew the marketplace. The skyrocketing rates of diabetes among the poor are attributed to this.

The movie took on Monsanto and the ramifications of its seed patenting, interviewing farmers who had been sued by the giant chemical corporation. Being able to patent a seed is new. Until Monsanto did this, all seeds were public. The patent means that farmers can not save seed from year to year. Monsanto has been relentless in suing farmers on patent infringement. Even the innocent ones give up, because they can not afford the legal fees.

My biggest disappointment in the movie was that the dairy industry was not covered at all. Food, Inc., would have been the perfect vehicle to get the word out about the dangers of factory dairy products, pasteurization, and homogenization. Again, we have government policy dictating how the food is produced, with disastrous consequences. Maybe there will be a sequel to Food, Inc., that exposes this. Until then, if you do not know the problems, visit the Campaign for Raw Milk page, a project of the Weston A. Price Foundation.

I was also disappointed in the coverage of the new mass-produced organic products. The movie producers missed an opportunity to show how differently some organic foods are made. For instance, organic meat can be grain-fed or grass-fed. The same goes for dairy cows. The grassfed is healthier for you. The movie barely touched on the fact that independent organic food companies are being bought out by multinational corporations. They did not talk about how this affects the product.

Food, Inc., is an important movie. I think it can change lives. Naturally, its greatest impact will be on those who have not done a great deal of reading on the topic. That's why I am so excited about it, because putting the information in a movie format will reach so many people who would never take the time to research it on their own. Go see it. Take your children with you. And eat before you go. You may not want to after the movie.

Harvesting the Golden Treasure of Our Bee Pastures

"We are getting near," said Gandalf. "We are on the edge of his bee-pastures." --J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit, as quoted on page 47 of First Lessons in Beekeeping by Keith S. Delaplane


We all vibrated with excitement yesterday as we gathered around the bee man on the side of my parent's house. It was about 6:30 a.m. The plan was to remove a feral hive of bees, steal their honey, re-locate the bees to a box hive, and have a lot of fun. The plan was accomplished.

Lighting the smoker. It's stuffed with a piece of old denim.

Smoking the girls. It didn't calm them down a bit.

Finding the bees. We lucked out. They were right there under the house, not up in the wall.

Mr. Keenon gives Nathaniel instructions for working with the bees.

Nathaniel gets assistance from Emma in tying a knot for the headgear as he warns me not to take pictures of him.

Nathaniel and Ryan prepare to meet their destiny.

Mr. Keenon presents the girls with the first chunk of honeycomb.

Dividing up the delicious golden treasure.

They consumed it right speedily, though it presented a dreadful etiquette dilemma when it was time to spit out the wax.

Isn't it lovely?

Ryan passes Nathaniel a large piece of honeycomb.

Mr. Keenon points out the queen cells on the edge of the comb.

Ahh, the succulent beebread, sweet, with a slight hint of citrus.

The hive that Emma built is being filled with honeycomb and bees. It appeared that the hive had swarmed recently, so there weren't nearly the number of bees that we were expecting. Mr. Keenon said that it might not be enough to make a successful hive.

Nathaniel threatens me with a glare because I am taking too many pictures of him, but I bee not afraid.

I think Emma may be sampling the dark comb with last year's honey.

Time to clean up. Honey had drizzled all over Ryan as he lay under the hive, and he got stung 13 times. I was really surprised that the smoke did not calm the bees more. I have a theory, though, that since they appear to be Italian bees, they are most likely Catholic--which means that if we had incensed them instead of smoking them, they probably would have gotten down on their knees and prayed, rendering them amiable instead of angry.

Nathaniel gets help removing the gloves, which he borrowed from Mr. Keenon after he got stung through the ones that came with our bee kit.

After we brought the harvest into the kitchen, Emma picked off the remaining bees, put them in a jar, and returned them to the new hive. Mr. Keenon told Emma not to move the hive more than ten feet a day away from the bees' original home.

Poor Emma! She didn't have time to shower before ballet and realized as she tried to brush her hair in the car that it was dotted with honey where bees had landed.

Today we will squeeze the honey out of the combs, filter it, and put it up in jars. We'll save the wax to make candles!

An Explanation of Marriage Impediments

Ever since Emma and I watched this a month ago, I've been intending to link to it. A post about annulments on http://athanasiuscm.blogspot.com prompted me to get it done. Fr. Cooper, SSPX, provides desperately-needed teaching on the topic.

The Bee Man Cometh

I find it terribly embarrassing that we have still not completed the bee hive project that we started more than a year ago, but maybe our difficulties will prove inspirational for some.

To recap, back in January, Herb found some more of the nails that Emma needed to finish putting the frames together. She finally got to it a couple of weeks ago when Herb was home sick with the flu. It's always inspiring to have dad home, just in case you need project guidance!

Then she sprayed on another coat of paint, and I called Mr. Keenon, our county's bee expert and a member of our homeschool group. He came out yesterday with his wife and daughters and looked at my mom and dad's bee infestation on the north end of their home. He told us that he gets some of his best bees from our area. They originate from a feral hive under a mobile home nearby.

He recommended that we place the hive under a pecan tree in the backyard, facing east, adding that it's good for it to be close, so that you can check on it regularly. I saw Emma's face light up. Those bees will never have a moment's privacy.

He is coming back Thursday morning, at the crack of dawn, with his two daughters and Nathaniel's friend, Ryan, who has helped Mr. Keenon before with bee removal. Throw Nathaniel and Emma into the mix, and it ought to be quite a party! Maybe I'll have a loaf of bread ready to come out of the oven, and we can slather it with fresh honey.