The Catholic Housewife

The End of the Road

2008-08-31T20:20:00.000-07:00

Sorry, folks, but I've got to stop fooling myself. This blog endeavor is about over. For awhile it was nice to get my thoughts together on certain things and the responses I received were for the most part heartening. I laughed and learned and enjoyed all the blogs I read. You are friends to me and I will always remember you in my heart.

But life is too full for me to be spending lots of time on the Internet. And to be a good blogger, you ought to do your homework and offer something of value to your readers (I felt). But too much of my study was becoming "how to save a lot of money so the disaster won't affect you." And in the end I decided this was not the focus I wanted. I didn't want my focus to be too much on money and on the imminent [insert pet apocalyptic fear here], and not on God and my kids and making the best quality of life for my family.

I don't know what the turning point was. But reading Bud Macfarlane's novel Pierced by a Sword (available free from Catholicity.com) was a watershed for me. Here it was, all my worst fears--played out in a Midwest setting peopled with thoroughly Catholic characters. I lived my worst fears through that book, and I survived. I learned that what matters when the stuffin' hits the fan is not how much money you saved or how much food you hoarded, but how much you loved your family, and how much you loved and served God. And death is not the worst thing that can happen to us.

I love writing, and people have told me that I'm a good writer...but I'm still discerning how this gift of mine is to be used. I gave it to God with this blog, but maybe He's telling me it's time to shut it down and use it for something else. (and I will be trying to stay off the Internet for everything except e-mail, and the occasional urgent inquiry, so comments may not be responded to).

Sometimes you have to shut out the world, as much as you can, and just listen. I have been quiet enough to hear some things that seemed like maybe God was trying to tell me something. I'll share them with you:

1. Take every opportunity to empty yourself.
2. Fear sin more than any intruder.
3. You need never fear to place yourself entirely in my hands. I will always give you what you need to accomplish my will.

There's more--a little mission, if you will. I don't believe God is "talking" to me, exactly, but occasionally I feel my eyes opened to some truth that seems spiritually profitable. Always I am guided by what I hear at Mass, by what I read as the constant teaching of the Church, and the virtues. If I am ever in doubt, I reject the thought as soon as I can, and content myself with just listening.

We all have jobs to do for God. Some may not be very glorious, or notable (by human standards), but they are just as important to Jesus. Even our suffering (especially our suffering) bears the most spiritual potential and deserves a far more extensive treatment than I've been able to offer here. So here's to it--and discernment of our destinies. Thanks everyone and I love you.

The Coin of the Realm

2008-07-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

One of the things that makes being in the Midwest with my husband's family a pleasure is the ability to attend family events, such as the wedding we went to yesterday of cousin Jenny, the daughter of the last man in the family to own the family farm ("Did they get all the manure out from behind my ears?" she was heard to ask. She looked lovely.)

We went to church again today...and as I was looking up at the incredibly uglified high altar and trying to have these "deep thoughts" (which I kinda think might be as close as I can get to actually speaking with the Lord), I got this insight:

Some days I think I have it bad, sweating and swearing through the bad moments and then offering a quick Hail Mary and hoping I can get to confession soon. But I've never had to watch my child die. I've never been incapacitated by some illness or injury or been unable to feed or take care of my kids. Looking on the suffering of others, comforting pablum runs through my head--offer it up, offer it up--but never out of my mouth. I feel I cannot speak unless I have suffered much. We all suffer in various ways, large and small. The point I want to make is, suffering is not just some pitiful useless experience we have to endure.

In Catholic mysticism, suffering is the "coin of the realm" in heaven. So many people simply cry and curse their way through it. But we have the capacity to offer it to God and ask Him to use it for His will. The keys are, we have to accept it, we need to thank God for it, and eventually we will learn to praise Him and feel joy about it. I knew all this, but I didn't know what it looked like.

Now I know. We have these friends who live an hour or so away. They don't make much money, and they are used to living on a shoestring. Well, the four children in this family are--thin. Pitifully so. The mom is well-meaning, but she is trying to raise these kids on a diet with very little fat and meat. We went over there for the 4th of July and there was nothing prepared for lunch. Some confusion followed. We didn't want to impose. Should we run to the store? The answer: no. Our hostess began to rummage around in the fridge (no woman wants to receive company and not have something to put on the table). One of the girls asked, "Mom, what about the chicken?" "Daddy was hoping to get several more meals out of that," was the reply. Shocked, I stood stockstill and looked at DH, who only shrugged.

She brought out a scant pint of leftover baked beans, a bag of salad, and two fistfuls of grapes. There were six hungry kids sitting around the table, not including the adults. I put some beans in two bowls for my kids, and I realized I was taking food out of the mouths of her kids, so I tried to make the portions small. I even put a spoonful back (surreptitiously). At that point the baby was fussing so I took him upstairs. Getting down on my knees I held my well-fed baby and cried. "Lord, just get them some food. I will suffer for them. I offer my suffering. Just please get them some food." The day went on like everything was OK, but I felt like I was in an alternate universe.

We can't avoid suffering. It's all around us. Dean's grandparents birthed eight children on that farm and were dedicated Catholics to the end. But somewhere along the way (I realized) Anne must have lost a child. Whether through miscarriage or illness, that particular suffering has always been "baked into the cake" of womanhood. Hasn't it? I mean, every generation of women (with the exception, perhaps, of the last few generations in industrialized societies), in the absense of birth control, would have experenced a succession of births--most of which resulted in live offspring, most of which survived to maturity. However, the lost children would have haunted the souls of these mothers in every generation (today, abortion produces a parallel form of pain, but it is of a different stripe). My God, how did they endure the pain? I wondered.

I'm sure you know people like our friends, or they have other problems, and you can't say anything, and they live too far away for you to help. Now with these pictures in my head, the whole offering-your-suffering thing is very real to me. Of course, our souls are more important than our bodies, but bodies are very hard to ignore. It's clear now to me that the path ahead of us may be rocky...but God wills for us to be instruments for His will--if we are willing to accept the treasure of our suffering, not only with endurance but with joy.

In defense...part II

2008-06-30T06:40:00.000-07:00

Nourishing Traditions is full of little gems. It is a big, thick book, rather like a telephone book in aspect, yet it is concisely (if not tersely) written. In an effort to save money, I went on the Weston A. Price Foundation web site and read the articles there, thinking that would be a substitute for buying the book. While some of the nutritional information is repeated, drawn from some very extensive articles which have been published on the web site and elsewhere, the web site is no substitute for the book. I actually went to a Barnes and Noble storefront and asked for this book so I could dive right in. Here are just a few fun facts you will learn:

1. Did you know that rats fed Puffed Wheat died in two weeks?

2. That mice who were fed corn flakes died sooner than mice who were offered only the box?

3. We drink skim milk in an attempt to lose weight, but farmers use skim milk to fatten hogs.

4. Children who are fed butter rather than margarine are smarter, better physically proportioned, and have fewer cavities.

5. "Vegetable oil"--the savior of western civilization--is rancid from the moment it is processed, and has to be steam-cleaned to get rid of the smell.

6. Did you know that, due to its highly unstable chemical composition, the fatty acid molecules in vegetable oil cause cascades of free radicals, which cause levels of cholesterol in the blood to rise?

7. And yet--rather than a destructive factor within the body, cholesterol is the white knight here--the true hero. It's like a tireless plugging and patching team that your body sends out in order to contain these free radicals. Cholesterol is an antioxidant!

8. Our body's cells are 50% saturated fat.

9. Saturated fat is the preferred food for the heart.

10. Unsoaked whole grains and unfermented soy products rob the body of minerals.

While the front matter in the book is pretty earth-shaking in terms of toppling most dietary shibboleths erected in recent years, the sidebar information as you go through the book is just as eye-opening. But let me deal with some objections I noted when reading Amazon reviews of this book. There are over 200 reviews, which says something about this book: it may not be on airport book racks, but people are reading it.

The NT way of eating is downright dangerous.
This is in the eye of the beholder. Most studies showing a decrease in heart disease deaths due to cholesterol-lowering drugs or diets show an increase in death rates from all causes. Which one are you going to take your chances with? Several well-done studies audited by independent researchers show no correlation between deaths related to heart disease or artheriosclerosis and the consumption of butter, eggs, and red meat. A few studies show that butter and saturated fats appear to have a protective effect.

What happens is that the government, the American Heart Association, the American Dietetic Association, and others (the Diet Dictocrats), cherry pick the studies they will publicize and which aspects of these studies the public will learn about--which the MSM then dutifully report to John Q. Public. Studies whose results seem to defy the diet-heart hypothesis are silenced, starved of funds, and ultimately shuttered. Hence you have people like my father-in-law who says he's not supposed to eat organ meats because they are high in cholesterol. There is absolutely no relationship between the amount of cholesterol in a food and the likelihood of it contributing to artheriosclerosis. The one exception is a form of oxidized cholesterol (present in powdered milk and powdered eggs, and in liquid lowfat milk), which did produce artheriosclerosis in rats. These are the foods we are supposed to eat to lower our cholesterol, and they actually contribute to heart disease!

Sally Fallon et al. have a thing against vegetarians.
This criticism was the most prevalent among the reviews. The reviewers were very emotional in their comments...but that should not be construed as reflecting an emotionalism (can I say that?) in the book. The book is unemotional. However, vegetarianism is the most deeply established alternate diet we have--many people are invested in it body, heart, and soul. I won't debate here whether vegetarianism is a good diet or not, but I will say that there are several points in the book where it's pointed out that pure vegetarian (vegan) diets are likely to contribute to a deficiency in fat-soluble vitamins (which come from animal products, primarily), some B vitamins and, if the grains/beans/legumes are unsoaked and unfermented, to the loss of minerals. Children in particular are profoundly affected by the lack of animal fat in the diet, and this is very sad to see.

On the other hand, a form of "vegetarianism" is followed in some cultures (more out of necessity than choice) which includes animal products in the form of eggs, raw and cultured dairy products, seafood, shrimp and fish eggs, and insects. These high-vitamin foods are sought-after commodities in these cultures, since they contain the all-important fat-soluble activators necessary for strength, long life, and healthy reproduction. The book notes that these more vegetarian cultures tend to suffer more from dental caries (as noted by Dr. Price) than others, but there are no diatribes against vegetarianism here.

The book is not well referenced.
I do not get this one at all. There are 63 footnoted pages of text explaining traditional foods, the role of certain substances in the diet (with an emphasis on fats), and the shortcomings of modern food processing and what can be done about it. There are 188 references listed in a separate section; most of these are research periodicals.

Sally Fallon is down on working moms.
"No one in modern America deserves more sympathy than the working parent on a limited budget....While it is not necessary to spend long hours in the kitchen in order to eat properly, it is necessary to spend some time in the kitchen. Simple, wholesome menus require careful planning rather than long hours of preparation...nutritious meals can be prepared very quickly when one lays the groundwork ahead of time. If your present schedule allows no time at all for food preparation, you would be wise to re-examine your priorities." There are two pages of simple hints and advice that anybody could follow.

Sally Fallon is down on moms who don't breastfeed.
"If, in spite of these measures, your milk supply is inadequate, don't feel guilty. Lack of adequate milk supply sometimes does occur, especially as baby grows and his appetite increases. You have done the best you could and your baby can still grow up healthy, strong and smart on a homemade, whole-food baby formula."

Soaked baked goods don't turn out.
There may be some credence to this criticism. I don't know all the recipes (there aren't many bread/baked goods recipes in the book). The one recipe I made produced some very decent sourdough bread. It turned out just as the book said--it was different, and boy was it sour! The good news is, you don't have to be a purist. Although refined flour is bad for the body, you don't have to eat it by the truckload. Making your own bread (even if it breaks the NT rules) is still better than buying stuff from the store; it's fresher, tastes better, and you can buy a bag of top-quality flour for the same price you'll pay for a loaf of the good stuff. If you do that, you will rely less on pre-made bread products for the foundation of your diet--lowering your overall intake of refined carbohydrates. Without all the flour-based products from the store, and with a few home-made loaves and a batch of cornbread or muffins now and then, your protective fats will take care of you.

Sally Fallon and Mary Enig reference their own works.
This is to be expected, after one has written a number of extended/scholarly works (which Mary Enig has done) and is now contributing to a book intended for a general audience.

The recommended foods/supplements are too expensive.
After reading The Maker's Diet, I had the same thought: how is everybody supposed to get a hold of raw milk and grass-fed meat? We don't all live in California and have Silicon Valley-sized incomes, bub. Don't even get me started on the supplements. This is not the case with NT. While it's true that if you want the ultimate cod-liver oil, it can get kinda spendy, the emphasis here is on putting the highest quality of food you can afford on the table. A philosophical shift might be helpful here. You will become convinced, reading this book, that the epidemic in degenerative disease afflicting Americans is due to our long-distance, highly processed mode of food production. A dollar spent today on high-quality food may save thousands in medical bills down the road. It is an investment, and you get to choose where you need to spend and where you can pull back. There are many, many simple ideas and techniques in the book that you can incorporate right now in your kitchen, lots of basic recipes and just a few key ingredients you can stock right away. Like lard.

The recipes/cooking methods take too much time.
This also would seem to be a criticism that sticks. But here again, we need to examine priorities. Do we really need to watch 3 hours of television a night? Do the kids really need to be trucking here and there to a different activity every afternoon/evening? Why can't Mom get some help in the kitchen? Perhaps the family needs to spend more time together, planting a square foot garden. Then everybody can get excited about eating food that tastes good and is good for you. And if all that Pollyannish stuff doesn't work out, Mom can just get sneaky. Pull out the margarine and substitute butter. Put liver in the tacos. Use brown rice pasta and less of it. More rice and potatoes and less bread. No more bottled salad dressing. Soak everything.

Personally, I used to stress about every meal when I first started using this book. Then I realized that if I just took 5 minutes every night to think through the next day's meals, everything went so much more smoothly. I could soak the oatmeal or the beans, get some stock going to simmer through the night, pull out meat from the freezer, or if all else fails, make a shopping list and figure out how I can procure the stuff I need. Sometimes it can be difficult to locate a crucial ingredient. NT has a Sources page that is invaluable, especially if you want to try making something exotic, like kombucha. The Internet, of course, offers a lot of different packaged goods. And then again, different areas of the country have access to different foodstuffs. I could go to Trader Joe's and Wild Oats in Washington but they don't have that here. On the other hand, I can buy meat and milk directly from a farm. And lard from local hogs.

***

This is long, and sometimes I wonder why I stay up to write about such things. Is a review of Nourishing Traditions really that important? I think it is, and I'll tell you why. Because when you read about Dr. Price and what he learned about the impact of nutrition on the body (not just the teeth), you will realize that being in the home, cooking fresh high-quality food for your family, is the most important thing you can do. All the things modernity has brought us, all the activities (for better or for worse) have tempted us away from the table and pushed us toward the TV tray. Fast, flash-frozen, microwaved meals and reheated pizza--no wonder we are all fat and exhausted. Cancer, diabetes, heart disease, stroke--they wait at the end of our lives for us and what can we do to protect ourselves? More immediately, when a child is born and the birth is difficult, or the child has physical problems, it is absolutely searing for the parents. When that child grows up and has allergies, learning disabilities, childhood diseases or cancer, everyone suffers. Poor nutrition in the parents is a death sentence for the next generation.

The health care crisis in this country has a lot of factors involved in it--but one of the most preventable causes, one over which we have the most control, is what we put on our table and what we put in our mouths. We have the power to heal ourselves and it is worth making it a priority. And, as housewives, we literally hold our family's health and well-being in our hands.

In defense of lard

2008-06-28T15:19:00.000-07:00

I was the Marion farmers' market this morning (which is about the size of two garages put together), and among the offerings, there was this lady selling antibiotic-free pork out of the back of a truck. While talking with her about the meat, I noticed she had a sign taped to her table. It said "LARD--$1.50 per pound--a natural, traditional fat". When I asked about it she said that somebody had once given her some red-and-white pamphlets and suggested that she sell the lard (which they were just throwing away). "I can't remember the group that it was for," she said. "The Weston Price Foundation," I supplied, being recently boned up on the subject. "Yeah, I think that was it," she said. Upon checking the cooler, she informed me that her son had left the lard at home. "Darn," I said. "It's like the Swiss Army Fat of the kitchen--I'll be back next week."

Lard keeps at room temperature, darn near indefinitely. It's cheap, it's chemically stable, won't rot your veins or your brain, you can fry anything in it and also use it in baked goods. And the taste is divine.

"But," you say. "It's LARD!"

Yes, this pantry staple of traditional kitchens has become something of a culinary curiosity in recent decades. Only your Aunt Patty and those Mexican people use lard anymore. A couple of grocery stores in our area (and there aren't many stores) don't even stock it. The version I eventually found includes hydrogenated lard, although it doesn't say how much. That kinda turned me off until I started cooking with it. I was so pleased that I moved the butter container over and placed it right on the counter. Still, I'd like to find a version from hormone-free hogs that didn't have that hydrogenated stuff in it. So I'll be going back.

Lard, butter, beef tallow, coconut oil, palm oil...these fair fats are so much fun to cook with, that if you get nothing else out of Nourishing Traditions, at least you will not believe those who attempt to demonize these fats. Cooking requires fat, OK? It doesn't matter what kind of diet you follow, but if you cook anything at home, you probably have some kind of fat on your shelves, whether it be Crisco, Imperial margarine, or "vegetable oil" (soybean oil). And--get this--our cells require fat. Yep. A dim memory surfaces...oh yeah...high school chemistry class in 1993, Nirvana all over the airwaves (and the clothes in the stores really sucked). The teacher was explaining how our cell walls are composed of "phospholipids" and only fat-soluble vitamins can get across that barrier. Hmmm...so our cells are 50% saturated fat, says Mrs. Fallon and Ms. Enig. So the one thing we are not supposed to eat is--saturated fat! OK...but we're supposed to eat a lot of vitamins! Especially synthetic ones. Oh, and eat lots and lots of vegetables...for the vitamins! But don't eat very much fat. Not.Much.At.All. OK. What's the downside here? Well, for one thing, people don't eat vegetables like that. It gives us gas (did you sit behind us in chemistry class??). But here's the kicker: YOU CAN'T ASSIMILATE THE VITAMINS WITHOUT ADEQUATE AMOUNTS OF SATURATED FATS!

To be continued...

If you're going to panic...Part II

2008-06-16T21:01:00.000-07:00

I love that line. That's what Mish says when he talks about the economic deflation we are all going to experience, like it or not. Whatever your flavor of paranoia (be it economic, religious, or political) now is the time to panic--lay in your supplies and order your self-sufficiency manuals. Because by the time everybody else panics, it will almost certainly be too late.

That sounds like hyberbole, but after the month I've had, the very air seems to drip with drama. And yet the very ordinary tasks of a household grind on. Nursing, diapers, fixing food, doing dishes, dressing little limbs and wiping little faces and hands--while trying to keep a grip on my own psyche--has become almost a tunnel of claustrophobic proportions. Back in Vancouver, it was OK. I had a full pantry. I had all the supplies. I had my routine, and I had my friends and neighbors to help. Here, I don't know anybody. I know few places to get things. Now the downtown and city services of our nearest sizeable civilization are paralyzed. My phone doesn't work. And if it wasn't for the Internet, I would be mad mad mad.

Wall-to-wall news coverage on the flood has ceased, for the most part. We can use our water freely again, at least here in Marion. I had to keep telling Carl to turn off "The Bachelorette" during dinner, just because he's used to having the TV on all day now. "That's garbage television," I kept telling him. "Aw, come on ducky," is his rejoinder, cribbed from the old version of 101 Dalmations. Since I can't think of an age-appropriate way to explain that people tongue-kissing in a hot tub is not good viewing material for prime time, I just told him that the emergency was over. Not true. In a very real sense, the emergency is just beginning.

How to explain? As if the recession/oil crisis wasn't bad enough (leaving religious theories of the end times completely out...at least for the moment), I believe the next major crises to play out in America will be the declining health of our population--punctuated by hurricanes, fires, flooding, increasing violence and the occasional bridge collapse.

The health angle is one people are used to hearing about...usually in the context of the health care system. "The health care system is too expensive," say the pundits. "Too many people lack access to affordable health care insurance." Various theories are proposed to explain why this is so, from ballooning malpractice lawsuits and insurance costs, skyrocketing disease stats, and the explosion in the use of prescriptions drugs (not to mention that the largest demographic group in the history of the world--the Baby Boomers--are about to retire into a not-so-golden gloaming of economic uncertainty and mounting degenerative disease). What they fail to put their finger on is that people are sick.

The next big crisis, or "long emergency", is the lack of health. Not "health care", or access to health care "insurance," but just plain being able to get up in the morning, gather your thoughts, get out the door, work a job and live a life. You can't do that when you're sick. And people are getting sick in more ways and in greater numbers than ever before.

Imagine you are at a brand-spanking new Super Wal-Mart, and you're in the back receiving your first load of inventory. Five trucks are waiting before you. The first truck contains all the candy and sugary confections a child could dream of--everything from molasses to Peeps. The second truck looks familiar as well...it contains refined white flour in all its forms, from Roman Meal Butter-Top Bread to Little Debbie Snack cakes to hundreds of boxes of cold cereal. The third truck is full of glistening gallons of pasteurized and homogenized lowfat white milk, and all the products created from it, tubs and tubs of cottage cheese, yogurt, sour cream, bricks of cheese. The fourth truck is entirely full of butter substitutes. The fifth truck is full of vegetable oil. That's it, just vegetable oil.

According to this book I've been reading, Nourishing Traditions, it's this food--this fake, "ersatz," steam-cleaned, extruded, rancid, processed-to-death food--that is killing us. Granted, we are slowly poisoning the earth. We are breathing chemicals, and eating chemicals. We are stripping our soil and loading it up with toxins. But nothing affects us as directly as what we put in our mouths. And while this might sound like a lot of other harum-skarum muckraking stuff you read, Sally Fallon and Mary Enig and their compatriots at the Weston A. Price Foundation seem to put it all together in an intelligible, not-overbearing and common-sense way.

I mean, Nourishing Traditions isn't a tell-all whistleblowing sensationalist barnburner. It's a cookbook. It shows you how to make soaked porridge and ketchup the old-fashioned way. It would never have been published without charitable contributions from family and friends. And Mary Enig herself, the scientist half of the equation, has grown old fighting the margarine conglomerates and food cartels, the government officials and American Heart Associations of the world to get the word out that not only are trans fats bad, they are in EVERYTHING, and people are eating a whole lot more of them than they think. This is finally getting out, as food manufacturers are forced to admit concessions (although they do this in as inconsistent and opaque a way as humanly possible). Sally Fallon, a former housewife, has taken up the crusade and does the bulk of the PR work, or so it seems.

Their message: Saturated fat is good for you! People have been eating animals for eons, but man has only recently discovered how to get "oil" from soybeans, and then "hydrogenate" it. When people ate 18 pounds of butter per person per year, we had a very low incidence of coronary heart disease, and zero myocardial infarctions. Now our consumption of vegetable fats has increased 400% and butter consumption has fallen to 4 pounds per person. Coronary heart disease now leads the list of causes of death in America, followed by cancer.

Saturated fat causes heart disease? The scientific evidence just is not there. The proof? The entities responsible for pushing the idea that saturated fat causes heart disease still have to put qualifiers on their messages: "A lowfat diet rich in whole grains and low in saturated fat and cholesterol may help reduce the risk of heart disease." Translation: there's a risk of heart disease but nobody knows what that is. The risk can be reduced, but nobody knows by how much. Adopting a spartan diet devoid of butter, animal products, nuts, natural oils, and meats may drive you insane with cravings but it "may help" reduce the nebulous "risk" that is out there. That one single statement has four qualifiers in it!

"Here she goes, she's on her bandwagon again!!" go the people who know me best. I know, I know, I must be depressed. All this diaper-changin' and news-watchin' has addled my brain. OK, OK, if you really don't want to hear this, punch the snooze button. Think Polly-annish thoughts and go on consuming this stuff. I do, mostly because it's impossible to avoid all of it. But people who come here deserve to hear something different from the MSM, don't they? That's why we have blogs and YouTube and stuff, right? I mostly became interested in this angle because of my poor allergic little guy, Tom. I really do think people make much ado about diet. But after my urgent care episode, I'm really concerned that I don't get sick again. So I continue to search for that ultimate reference, the unified field theory of food, if you will, that will explain so many perplexing questions.

Oh, I promised to get back to religion. "I really think Obama could be the Antichrist," my dad said when I called him last Sunday.

Heh. You thought I was paranoid.

If you're going to panic, panic before everyone else does

2008-06-15T10:13:00.000-07:00

Whew...it's been quite a month. On May 14, we were still in our house in Vancouver, Washington, preparing for a cross-country move to the Cedar Rapids area. We left the evening of the 18th. The neighbors threw us a barbeque and even gave us a card, signed by all the families we knew. I didn't find the card and read it until we were in Iowa, surrounded by the chaos of half-unpacked boxes and family and friends coming and going. I wanted to cry, but after a four-day trip across country, I had no emotions left.

Then the tornadoes hit. Our new house (which I love, by the way) was surrounded by crashing lightning, booming thunder, and wailing sirens. There was a couple of nights where we could hardly sleep for the noise and light. It looked like a strobe light was going off outside our house. Then we discovered two cracks in our basement (which turned out to be very minor, thank God--but it was still unnerving to move into a house and discover any need for immediate repairs). Dean rushed out and bought a weather radio so we could keep informed while huddling in our cold, unfinished basement. "Welcome to the Midwest," our friends joked. The damage reports from the tornadoes, while they did not hit our immediate area, were of course not funny.

Then that spate of storms passed, and everything seemed OK again. We continued to unpack, and took a couple of day trips to visit Dean's parents and old friends. I was hitting all the garage sales I could, seeking replacements for all the items we had had to leave behind (thank you Joe and Angie for putting up with that!). We made arrangements to repair the basement and were busy getting digital phone services hooked up. The day after the basement was fixed, rain poured down again. There was a flash flood warning for Cedar Rapids.

Then everything kind of went quiet. The rain came down. The thunder boomed and the lightning flashed. No sirens. I flipped on the TV halfway through that Thursday looking for weather updates, and I didn't see anything but ordinary TV. We don't live in CR, by the way. We live in Marion, a small town to the NE of Cedar Rapids, with its own history and its own services, and its own life.

We had seen some sandbagging going on downtown on Tuesday. We swung through the area to file for our Homestead exemption and to pick up a bundle of meat from Polehna's Meat Market, in the Czech village, a block-long string of shops capped off by the Czech and Slovak Heritage Museum. We drove back across the bridge and took a wrong turn, upsetting some people who were assisting a sandbagging effort in a neighborhood close to the river. We must have looked like utter cads, with our maps and sunglasses, carelessly barrelling around an area that people were very concerned about.

But by the evening it was obvious that things were going south real fast. The water was rising, and it didn't stop until--and this shocked me the most--the island upon which our government buildings sit, the building in which we filed our exemption, the little meat market, and that unfortunate neighborhood was completely covered with water.

More to come...

Much Ado about Diet

2008-04-27T14:05:00.000-07:00

[I think I'll dispense with the original title of this post, which was "Wacky Way to Save Money #7: Eating Cat Food" (Betcha thought I'd have abandoned this whole wacky way thing back in November...nope...I'm way too stodgy and Germanic for that...I've also had my sense of humor surgically removed without my knowledge, says my husband. Oh, no, it was bred out, says I...long about the time the Reformation hit).

The post in a nutshell was going to say, go read the ingredients in your pet's food bag, realize that those are actually the cheapest and healthiest things in the market, and stock your pantry with those. Well, I was wrong, so let's move on (Whew! Dodged that one!).
So--on with the actual post!]

Our cat is fat.

So fat, in fact, that every person to visit our house in the last year, be they friend or family member, has remarked, almost without variation in diction, "That is one fat cat." My response is usually something like, "Oh, we've tried to put her on a diet..." to which one friend of the family deadpanned, "Too late." Well...what is she eating?

I checked the bag: Chicken, chicken by-product meal (yum), corn meal, corn grits, chicken meal, dried beet pulp, dried egg product, natural chicken flavor, sodium bisulfate, potassium chloride, fish oil, DL-Methionine, brewer's dried yeast, choline chloride, calcium carbonate, vitamins [list of vitamins]. Yeah, that's the reaction I had. Not much of an article. Then the whole idea got shelved for awhile, 'cuz life got busy (as it always does). But there's nothing like chronic pain to get your attention.

I thought it was just the typical late-winter cold. Heck, I might even have had the flu. I certainly wouldn't have noticed the difference. I just felt old. Stiff, sore, creaky, cranky, perpetually fatigued, with sore places in my teeth, back, and knees. Now granted I wasn't doing anything to help my health. I was staying up late on the Internet, eating all the calories I could get my hands on (to feed the baby), and just trying to get my work done around the house. And while I'm not overweight, I sure felt bloated, even after a BM. Constipation had become my constant companion, and with the onset of seasonal allergies, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. Then one day the chest pain hit. Oh, crap, I thought. What the heck is this pain?

It bothered me so much, I parked the kids with sweet Rachel (who is surely some angel sent from God, in the form of a friend), and went to urgent care. They took blood, did a chest x-ray and EKG. Everything turned out normal. We discussed gall bladder disease (since my husband had had that, and the pain didn't start until I ate a loaded-with-hydrogenated-fat turnover from the store), which tends to hit women after they've had a few kids.. But I can't say I was convinced. Perhaps this was some kind of stealth angina. It surely wasn't in my head. I felt like I had a box on my chest, and the feeling didn't go away in a few hours or a few days.

The one person I hadn't talked with yet was my midwife (the one who says I gave Tom the milk allergy. Why's she always telling me things I don't want to hear? Like..."Push!"). She said my labs had always been normal, and poo-poohed the idea of gallbladder disease. "With all the allergies in your family, you might have a wheat allergy," she said. What? She then went on to describe how she and her epileptic husband had felt soooo much better on a wheat-free diet and he had even stopped seizing. Yeah, right, I thought. We had a good conversation, but I didn't give any credence to the wheat idea until the next time I sat at my computer and Googled "gall bladder disease." I read for about an hour but nothing clicked. The next day, I thought about how Mary had been right about the whole allergy thing and felt like a heel for doubting her. So I googled "wheat allergy," and then narrowed it to "food intolerance". What I found blasted my socks off, but as usual if I post all my newfangled ideas in one breath, as it were, I might phrase it the wrong way, or sound too credulous. So I'll think about it a bit more while I brew up my findings.

***

So now I've had time to think and, while I would prefer to get my thoughts down in a traditional, organized, scholarly fashion, I do most things on the fly nowadays, so here goes...

Food is important. I think everybody agrees on that. I mean, people in third world countries are starving because rice (and wheat) is so expensive now. And I think it safe to say that we rely on grains more than any other food source. After all, it doesn't take much space to plant a bountiful vegetable garden (at least, a square foot garden). And we would all benefit from having a fruit or nut tree in our yards. But who can grow wheat by themselves? I mean, don't we need wheat (and corn, rice, dairy cows, and soybeans) to live? Well, it's an open question.

Alert readers may have noticed me touting a three-to-six month emergency food pantry to economize on grocery bills. And while this all seemed like common sense to me, I didn't take into account varied diets and the importance to health of a variety of fresh food. I really don't want the lawsuits of people who've followed my advice and lived on shelf-stable canned food and flour that was at least three month old. There's more to this issue than saving money--however that might go against the (tightwad) grain.

After I had my pain episode described above, I found a particular diet on the Internet that helped me. And while I don't want to tout the benefits of one diet guru or philosophy over another, I found a high likelihood that food allergies were causing problems for more people in our family than just my son Tom. This particular diet requires the consumption of more fresh, whole foods, as do others that endorse whole foods, raw foods, sprouting/fermentation along with the shunning of all processed (read: shelf-stable) food that you buy at the grocery store. Which presents us with a problem.

What do you stock your pantry with, if you're dependent on whole/fresh/raw/otherwise perishable foods? My aim here is not only to minimize cost, but to maximize nutrition, as well as to provide a measure of security in tough times. Can any of these foods be stored? For how long?(This is just brainstorming here, so if you have experience in this area, please give me your suggestions):

1. Dried fruits, vegetables, and meat: Many whole natural foods can be successfully preserved by dehydration. Consider buying a dehydrator if you have abundant garden produce or a fruit tree.

2. Pickled or canned preserves and vegetable relishes (home canned, store-bought if necessary): Look for low/no sugar and no preservatives. Includes sauerkraut or other pickled greens. Organic would be great.

3. Whole grains: brown rice, wheat berries, whole oats, barley, lentils, and beans may be stored in a cool, dark, dry place, such as a root cellar. Soak overnight in warm water, then cook gently.

4. Frozen meats and stocks: Assuming you have an extra freezer, you can preserve many kinds of food, including raw nuts and seeds, extra loaves of bread, or specialty flours.

5. Certain fresh vegetables of the winter/root variety can be stored in the ground or in a cool, dark cellar: Such as potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, turnips, rutabagas, carrots, squash. I read somewhere that you can pack them in sand as well (A root cellar can be a waterproof garbage can half-buried in the ground and covered with leaves).

6. Specialty products: Such as powdered goat/cow milk, soy/rice milks in shelf-stable containers, baking mixes, spices and seasonings, chocolate, sweeteners, tea and coffee, etc.

Whew! That's a longer list than I expected. It seems that building a food pantry makes sense no matter what diet you're on.

One more thought about the higher cost of "healthy" food. Nobody wants to pay less for their food than me, I assure you. I've spent four years creating the ultimate tightwad-from-scratch kitchen. But are potential health problems worth it in the long haul? Were my food policies harming my family? Perhaps. By buying only what was on sale, clearance, or markdown, I was always buying the oldest of the old. I thought it couldn't be unhealthy because I was always cooking from scratch (or because I grew up on processed cheese and canned tomato soup). But since then I've widened my view...it makes more sense to pay a little more now for the highest quality food you can find, rather than risk ill health, reduced quality of life, and higher medical bills later.

Wacky Way to Save Money #6: In the Mattress

2008-03-16T23:28:00.000-07:00

It is a fact that banks fail.

In fact, banks are failing all over the place--Bear Stearns is just the one currently in the news. So why is the Fed (in the form of a $2-a-share JP Morgan buyout) bailing out Bear? Why is this such a big deal?

[Granted, this is a complex subject. Technical analysts, hedge fund honchos--try not to laugh at me. My job is to simply give the best "housewife" analysis I can, to try to cut through the crud and tell you how it's gonna affect your family's bottom line. The stupendously detailed analysis is going to have to give way to a quick-and-dirty this time. You can thank me in the combox;)]

The deal is, our whole banking system is shot. You think you have money in the bank. Your statement comes in the mail or you call and the bank tells you you have thus-and-so. You go to the ATM and pull out $20 or $40 at a time. You go buy groceries and swipe your card. Your employer sends your "paycheck" over the wires--and it's supposed to land (chink-chink-chink) in your bank "account". Theoretically you could go and ask for the whole balance and they'd have to hand you a stack of cash. Right?

Uh-oh.

If people started doing that tomorrow, the scene down at your local branch would resemble a mill strike more than It's a Wonderful Life. Fact is, the money's not there. How can a bank that is billions in debt hand you your measly thousands? Maybe they could do it for the first couple dozen people. But the vaults would quickly empty out. What then?

That's basically what happened to Bear. Its creditors (other banks and private investors) saw the blood in the water...they called and tried to get their money out. As word got out, the tide kept going out faster and faster...until on Friday Bear Stearns suspended its redemptions, which can only mean it's going broke--it's "vault" was practically empty. Now it's Sunday night, which should be a dead zone for financial news, and the wires are lit up with news of this Fed buyout/bailout. What does it mean for you?

Banks have been allowed, since the 1990's (thank you Mr. Clinton), to sweep out deposits on a nightly basis and lend them out for profit--and in at least 241 cases, rampant speculation. They don't have to keep any of the money on hand that you supposedly have access to. That's the big swindle--"fractional reserve lending." That's why you have $300 daily withdrawal limits at the ATM. You may think you have X amount in the bank but the truth is, what would you do if your debit card no longer worked and the ATM's were down?

What about FDIC? Mish thinks deposit insurance is a moral hazard. It makes every bank seem equally safe, and people just pick the ones that offer the highest returns. Trouble is, a bank that chases yield often makes pretty risky bets. If the Fed isn't big enough to bail out Wall Street, is the FDIC big enough to bail out Main Street? If bank failures increase from a trickle to a flood...the short answer is no.

You should consider hiding a wad of cash somewhere just for emergency running money (maybe not in the mattress). Just stuff it somewhere and forget it. One of the last real deals in "banking" is to get free withdrawals ("cashback") when you buy something. Discipline yourself to pull $20 extra when you go to the store ('cuz of your tightwad ways you have a little extra, right??) and stuff it in an empty can in the pantry. Or tape it to the underside of your bedframe. Or put it in a fireproof safe in your crawlspace. Point is, don't trust your family's daily/weekly operational budget to a bunch of hacks who couldn't care less.

There is only one pharmacy in town that can mix the drug that my son, Tom, needs to keep from throwing up. I went there to pick it up and the gal behind the counter launched into an apologetic speech about how their debit card reader was down...until I pulled out cash. "Oh, you are an angel," she said. No, I'm just a mom who wants to make darn sure my kid gets his medicine.

Not to be paranoid here, but all anybody needs to do if they really want to mess up the world is to create a virus that disables debit card readers. Our vulnerabilities are really frightening, if you stop and think about it.

***

Your money is only as good as your currency. A country's currency is kind of like its "stock." If the country's in good shape, balance sheet's in the black, factories are humming, and people are investing...it shows. Its currency will rise on the world market, and pay more interest to those who invest in it. The downside is, it costs more to borrow a strong currency, and the exports of a strong-currency country are more expensive in weaker currency countries.

If you've heard the dollar is losing value, you've really had your ear to the ground. But it's more likely that you've only just felt it...like looking out on a sunny day, but it feels cloudy. Everybody says they want the dollar to be strong. But you go to the store to buy a loaf of bread...and instead of 1.39, it's 1.79. Milk and cheese cost more. Braces cost more. There's sticker shock at the gas pump almost every day. Wages continue to dwindle, while everything that matters--meat, medicine, gas, heat--goes through the roof. Yeah, you can still get a cheap gadget at Wal-Mart...but for how much longer?

Some economists call it "stagflation". Some just call it deflation. What it means is that you're poorer than ever...while things cost more than ever. And it's all coming down so fast--what happened? We had a strong currency in the late 90's. The strongest we've seen in this country since Nixon took us off the gold standard (the mongrelized gold standard). Then, in order to head off what seemed like a serious recession following the tech boom...the Fed cut interest rates--i.e. they cheapened the dollar--and encouraged banks to lend money like crazy to keep people spending and head off a recession. Well, guess what? They did. They bought houses and cars and big-screen TV's and every stupid thing you can imagine. And the dollar went down...and kept going down. It's hard to measure, but according to some estimates I've read, you could have bought 30% more with a 2001 dollar than with a 2008 dollar. Cheap imports from China disguised the loss in value...but $110/barrel oil and $1000/ounce gold tell the story.

So what do you do? If you've been diligently cutting your expenses and paying off your debts, you might have a nice start on your 6-month emergency account. Take the trouble to protect it from a fall in the currency. It took some quick action on pur part last fall to avoid the 10% haircut we've taken in the dollar in the past six months. Only 1/3 of our emergency account is left in the bank. One third is in gold and silver. The rest is in foreign currency.

You can pick a "safe" money market (like Vanguard Prime Money Market Fund--supposedly "bulletproof", according to Money magazine). You can seek out a good, solvent bank that offers at least a 4% interest rate on deposits or CD's (good luck). You can buy silver dollars at the junk shop. My advice is to just spread it around...dig around and look for things that will keep pace with or exceed the inflation rate, which is around 4%. I feel pretty stupid for keeping so much money parked at WaMu for a measly .24%. But I can't really get around the fact that I need to have some money in a place where I can go and make a wire transfer or write and deposit checks. That's basically what banks are good at--moving money around. Too bad they're butterfingers when it comes to lending and "investing" it.

One caveat...do your homework. Don't put money where you're not confident you can preserve it. If in doubt, just keep it in the bank--but don't go over the FDIC limit. While you're at it, gather all your valuables and important documents and just get a little dinky safe from Wal-Mart and keep all that stuff in there. Fireproof is best, but secure and portable has its advantages. I personally don't want it to look like I have Fort Knox in my basement.

***

Realize that currency isn't money. "The long-term value of all fiat currencies is zero," says Bill Bonner, the very Catholic editor of The Daily Reckoning. And whatever I may think of his religious leanings, he's been proven right by history. When Jesus walked the earth in Judea, the Roman empire was being rocked by currency devaluation. It always causes social unrest and economic hardship. It's always the refuge of a panicked, insolvent empire on the verge of collapse.

"There's a war on the middle class," you might hear--on Fox News or elsewhere. What does that mean? When your wages are stagnant or falling, and your taxes and expenses keep going up while your savings, stocks, and real estate are going down, you're being bled. Someone is getting the money...but it isn't you. Somehow you find enough to live on, but it seems like less every year. That's because it is. The numbers all seem right, but it doesn't add up. That's the curse of inflation. Everything's just fine, say the government, banks, and advertisers. Go ahead and buy...no interest, same as cash. Lowest mortgage rates in years. They say that because they're the first to benefit from a devalued currency. But there's a trickle-down effect. By the time inflation trickles down to the little guy, his income might have risen a little bit...but his expenses have risen more than his wage. The stock market seems alright, but when you price it in gold, it's going straight into the toilet.

A paper currency is only an IOU. It's at the mercy of a central bank that can raise or lower interest rates at will, strengthening or weakening the currency as they deem the situation requires. You are better off with a weaker dollar, they say, than with a recession. Your wages may be smaller, but at least you still have a job. You may, as a taxpayer, have to bail out Bear Stearns...but that's better than enduring the financial winter that may set in if all the big banks fall like dominoes.

Gold and silver have always been the only real money. Up until the 60's, in this country, our coins were 90% silver and a dollar bill said "silver certificate" instead of Federal Reserve Note. Once upon a time we had American gold coins, that clinked and chinked in people's pockets along with their peace dollars and Indian head nickels. A sound monetary system--that's what our prosperity was built on. Not fixed interest rates and Federal Reserve notes. We had real prosperity because gold was a demanding mistress--she demanded we balance our budgets and pay our debts. And she threw us out on our ear when we didn't. People decided this last part was just a bit too painful. But I wonder what they would say now.

There are many ways to own precious metals, depending on what you're comfortable with. This isn't a technical guide so much as a philosophy (for details and further research, you can check out American Gold Exchange). It isn't too late to own gold. But plunking down $1000 for an ounce is a bit intimidating at this stage in the market. I wouldn't recommend that. First, I would just say, learn a little bit about money and the history of money. Bill Bonner, Mish, and Michael Hodges know a little about it. Do your darnedest to save and cut expenses. The more cheaply you can live, the better you will fare if things really get bad (how many people will drive an hour to work at a $10 an hour job if gas hits $5 a gallon? $6?).

Consider investing in a few silver dollars here and there (they may seem expensive, but you're spending "play money" and getting real money). You can find them at pawn and junk shops. There are places on the Net that sell "junk silver," old coins from the '20's, '30's, '40's, and '50's. If you have a chunk of change you need to park somewhere, consider Everbank and their MarketSafe CD's. They've been offering 5-year CD's tied to the price of gold and silver, that are FDIC insured. If you're into stocks, the gold ETF (GLD) has been doing very well. Mining stocks are still undervalued, if you're after bigger gains. But these are more speculative. I think, for the housewife who's just trying to take care of her family, the three-to-six month food pantry is an excellent investment on its own. After all, you can't eat gold and silver coins. These are just things you can do if all your other bases are covered.

Even as we contemplate all the places we can store wealth, let us remember to have a spirit of poverty. That wealth is ostensibly there for your family's security, not to buy new furniture or take vacations in retirement. The more money we have, I hope the more we would give. The more secure we feel, I hope the more joy and generosity will shine out. If we sleep soundly at night, I hope it is in the peace we find after praying the Rosary, not thinking about the Ben Franklins taped to the bed. My focus is practicality, but my only peace lies in prayer. A blessed Palm Sunday to all.

California=Bizarro World

2008-03-08T13:17:00.000-08:00

Over yonder, at JimmyAkin.org, Tim Jones has a post up on California's week-old homeschooling crisis. One hour after we discovered this post, we found a phone message from my sister urging us to go to this web site to sign a petition to de-publish the ruling. Done and done.

Assuming you don't know anything about this story, the Jimmy Akin post is a good place to start, because several commenters have left links, relevant Church documents, and clarifications.

Story in a nutshell:

"In a stunning decision affecting thousands of families in California, the California Court of Appeal has issued an opinion finding no legal right to home school. "Parents who fail to [comply with school enrollment laws] may be subject to a criminal complaint against them, found guilty of an infraction, and subject to imposition of fines or an order to complete a parent education and counseling program," wrote Justice H. Walter Croskey whose opinion was joined by the other two members of the appellate panel. The opinion was issued February 28, 2008, in a case titled In re Rachel L., which reversed a Superior Court Judge, Stephen Marpet, who found that "parents have a constitutional right to school their children in their own home."

"The parents of Rachel L. enrolled her in Sunland Christian School, a private home schooling program. In his opinion, Croskey, 75, described what he called the "ruse of enrolling [children] in a private school and then letting them stay home and be taught by a non-credentialed parent."

California Homeschool Network has a synopsis of the situation as well as several informative links.

Here is the comment I left on Jimmy's web site:

"Spent an hour reading up on this last night.

Since posting the above, I came across some more info that clarifies the family's situation. They are NOT child-abusing wackos, they just spanked their kids, is all (which is a prosecutable offense in California, apparently). They have eight kids, and father Philip declares he will not have them in public schools being taught gay propaganda and what-not.

Also Sunland Christian School is an accredited homeschool-type curriculum, which is considered a charter school under the laws of California, but operates much the same as any pre-packaged homeschool curriculum. So Mom is OK with teaching the kids.

Moreover, the genius judges who decided this case did not invite any testimony from the school or any home schooling advocates. By referring to this homeschooling situation as a "ruse," the 75-year old senior judge on the panel is accusing homeschooling parents of fraud-- betraying either his complete ignorance of how homeschooling is supposed to work, or the fact that he knows about it and is dead-set against it.

I wish it didn't look this bad, but the more I read, the worse it looked.

Relevant links may be found by Googling "California homeschool news".

I am no lawyer, but I sure hope this gets thrown out by the CA State Supreme Court, and I think it will--but it will take a long time and keep a lot of parents in trepidation.

My advice for Californians who want to have any say in what happens to their kids at this point is...walk. Vote with your feet. Maybe when California is left with only immigrants and welfare recipients will they finally get a clue."

Diligent archive divers may have already discovered that I think this situation is a Blaine shame.

Other than that, the only thing I have to add (in financial parlance) is SELL CALIFORNIA. Sell your property, sell your bonds, get the heck out of there and don't look back:

*property has nowhere to go but down
*unemployment has nowhere to go but up
*cost of living's going up
*taxes are going up
*gas is going up
*wacky rulings like this
*spanking is prosecutable
*teaching gay stuff to your kids is mandatory
*whatever disaster's next in this bizarre state

I predict Church persecution is next, but who the heck am I? Oh yeah, I'm a person who's leaving the coast for the midwest.

The future of food Inflation...and what to do about it

2008-02-24T15:08:00.000-08:00

This just in from my investment newsletter source (s):

"Food prices will rise 3-4% in 2008, predicted the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s chief economist Joseph Glauber yesterday. Should his prediction come true, that would spell a whopping 8% inflation rate for food since January 2007.

"While the ethanol boom can be expected to bring higher incomes to farmers and reduce government outlays for farm programs," Glauber suggested at the USDA annual outlook conference, “it will also contribute to higher crop and livestock prices… Overall retail food prices for 2008-2010 are expected to rise faster than the general inflation rate."

"There's going to be real food inflation in this country," added C. Larry Pope, CEO of Smithfield Foods. "I think we need to tell the American consumer that things are going up. We're seeing cost increases that we've never seen in our business."

Chris Mayer, one of my investment guru guys, wrote:

"Grain consumption is at record levels, as I’ve written to you before. We’ll need record harvests to stop draining the world’s declining inventories. And as that margin grows thinner, we risk having actual shortages. So far, we’ve seen large prices for many grains. But what we could see beyond spikes in price are actual shortages.

"Yesterday, the CEO of Nestle gave a similar bleak outlook on finding scarce food-related commodities. Peter Brabeck said that the food industry would have to fight the biofuel industry over access to arable land. “We will not find sufficient water to produce all the crops… there will be a fierce fight for arable land.”

"Another telling move is what’s happening to import duties. Normally, import duties on food protect homegrown producers from outside competition and make the local consumers foot the bill. But governments around the world are suddenly slashing tariffs and import duties on wheat, rice and cooking oil."

You can believe these guys, or not. As I figure it, I'm up 10% on the value of my three-month non-perishable food pantry stash (about half of which we've eaten). In fact, it's saved me so many trips to the store, I think with the added cost of gas and time, I'm up over 15% in three months--that's a better return than the S&P 500 or the Dow has returned so far this decade, especially when priced in gold:

What do you do after your pantry is packed? Try growing your own.

The Feminine Future

2008-01-10T15:45:00.000-08:00

"She'd done well to make commander so soon even with the Fleet's steady growth in the face of the Havenite threat, for the life-extending prolong process made for long careers....She'd known and accepted from the start that those with less competence but more exalted bloodlines would race past her. Well, they had, but she'd made it at last. A cruiser command, the dream of every officer worth her salt!"

I'm trying not to hate this book. With all due respect for my husband, who eats up these kinds of novels like little leftover Halloween candy bars--Honor Harrington: On Basilisk Station seems like the kind of book that will give me enough of a rash to sit and write a ten-page critique on it, and then inflict it on my few readers in the form of a blog post. Since I'm short on time and long on sympathy, I'll try and compress my main beef with this genre in a quick rant.

My problem with science fiction that attempts to place women on par with men in a tech-oriented far-flung future is that these characters aren't really women--they're men with boobs and vaginas (and guns). The author stumbles all over himself (or herself, as was the case with Cordelia's Honor) to appear forward-thinking by extrapolating current social and technological trends into the future. The problem with this approach in writing an imagined future history is that trends are just that--flashes in the pan that don't last and are mostly written off to the dustbin of history.

The things about men and women and society that last--for example, the fact that societies not based on the family as basic social unit ultimately fail--seem to be lost on these writers.

This kind of future is far from a feminist one; in fact, it is masculinist in the extreme. There is no place for the feminine in this future. No one nurtures (except the Nanny State). No one is soft. No one makes curtains and cans tomatoes. No one cleans the smudges from a child's face and puts band-aids on boo-boos. What's left is a simply horrifying vision of what happens when the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics meets Brave New World run amok. No wonder the people in these books are always fighting wars and struggling under totalitarian governments. No wonder that whiz-bang technology serves as the replacement for the soft tissues that formerly supported new life. No wonder everyone sees a military career as the apogee of female achievement. Barrenness reigns supreme: and a queen is the overseer of all!

Adding to the absurdity of this form of long-rage extrapolation from what is essentially history's latest fad (feminism), is the fact that you can see from the quote above that the author includes a classist and ageist bias to his future society. Also, no one believes in God (apparently), but everyone uses blasphemies in their everyday speech. These are supposed to add a gritty, realistic tone that today's reader can relate to. On the other hand, gender bias--which has been with us as long as the earth revolves around the sun and is one of the things that EVERYONE can relate to--has been magically resolved.

Ugh. I can't go any further with this. And don't bother to argue about equal rights for women in the combox, because I'm not against that (look to Ladies Against Feminism for a thoroughgoing critique of the failed platform of feminism). I was just starting to think that I was some kind of cave-dwelling fuddy-duddy for preferring Jane Austen movies and homemaking blogs. Dwelling in the past, I thought--and not even a realistic one. But compared with the futures of Honor Harrington, and Cordelia, et al., I far prefer my lavender-scented cave.

This is what I want: stories that don't have an agenda to throw at me about politics, religion, or social issues. I want stories with a fully-fleshed woman character who is strong AND feminine (or at least, doesn't treat her femininity as a weakness or a weapon). I want a future that is positive for women and children. I want a world that offers options for all. True, such a world offers danger and conflict. Our characters must find their way through it. But it has to be more tasty than just a literary can of SPAM.

"It's pulp!" yells my husband in exasperation. "Just live with it!"

*sigh* I know. I'm so hard to please.

(John C. Wright has more meaty discussions of this nature on his LiveJournal.)

We fill the creche after all...

2007-12-19T20:40:00.000-08:00

Whew. I never thought I'd be writing this post sitting here with a baby, but here we are. Little Philip Joseph decided to come early...after a bout of gastrointestinal flu that held up the gravy train just long enough to convince the little guy to give up on me, I guess.

Mary says that can happen sometimes. And 37 1/2 weeks was just long enough for her to feel comfortable with having the birth at home. Last week when I had a touch of early labor, she said we'd have to go to the hospital if it didn't stop. She said I should have bed rest for 2 days, but whaddayaknow? My husband got the stuff next, and it laid him up so bad (along with the kids), that I had to be up and about caring for everyone.

So when I started getting more contractions yesterday I just lay still and told Dean I couldn't get up. He tottered around and did his best taking care of the kids while I lay in bed staring at the clock. This went on from early morning until about 2. Finally, the contractions were intense enough so I had to brace myself on the nightstand and breathe through them (although they weren't coming along as regularly as I expected). I picked up the phone and called Mary.

"I'm going to have to get on the toilet," I explained. "I'm starting to have to moan through these contractions."

"How far apart are they?" she asked.

"It's still irregular," I said. "They'll be ten, seven, four, then ten minutes apart. They'll be weak one time and then really strong the next."

"OK, I'll be there in 30-40 minutes."

Funnily, the contractions were a lot slower if I sat on the toilet. As soon as I realized Mary was coming, I thought of a few things I had to bring out and organize, so I got up and started to move. Then--wham--I would have to brace myself every two minutes as wave over wave started to come over me. I looked around. No birth tub. We hadn't had time to get it yet, what with everyone being so sick. Where was I going to give birth to this baby? Laying in bed was not a good position, Mary had said. And there was no way I was going to use that medieval birthing stool again!

I prayed. I told Jesus that He would have to do this birth through me, because I really didn't feel up to it. I told Him I had confidence in His will. His timing was perfect. And He had put everything together for this birth to give me exactly what I needed, so I pushed fear aside. This wasn't a one-time thing, mind you. We are all weak, and I was afraid of the pain without the tub. I had to push the fear aside again and again. And as it turned out, that is the key to the whole process.

With every contraction I would feel the fear rise, and then I would push it away, push it down, down, down. Compression of breath. Sensation. I squeezed my rosary in my hand (trying to relax everything else), because the points of the crucifix digging into my palm distracted me from the relentless pressure going on around my cervix.

You do get tired. I think natural birth without a birthing tub is the most tiring thing there is, because you have to squeeze something or brace yourself or hang onto something to feel anchored enough to get through the contractions as they get stronger. With the tub you can float and moan, float and moan. Then you can hang onto the side and stretch out and the water supports you. Without it, gravity mostly works against you. And my midwife was fond of the squat position, because it opens up the pelvis. I was terrified of the squat position--how many times had I had to squat through that 36-hour labor with my first son? Too many times to count.

But I was stuck. No tub. Mary showed up, and my friend Rachel with the needed birth supplies and groceries. Dean perked up, I heard a lot of talking. Mary hauled all her cases upstairs. She dresses for a birth as if she were going to the theatre. She had on a pretty ruched burgundy top and gauchos and high-heeled boots. That was one of the things that had made Mary stand out, of the midwives I interviewed. She was the only one who didn't have a sort of "tired" aspect to her. She seemed to have some juice left. She had pert opinions, a perky haircut, and jazzy clothes. And 25 years of experience.

"Well..." she said with a little laugh. "I guess I'd better check you." Ugh. I hate this part. Even though she checks as little as possible, I always dread it. So I got up on the bed and opened my legs. "Four centimeters," she pronounced. "You're in active labor." Whew. At least this whole party wasn't for nothing. "Now there's no need to try and slow things down. You've got a healthy baby there, and you just need to get in your zone, your birth zone."

I wanted to laugh. I imagined birth happening as it might in an Olympic event, with all the athletes scattering before the starting shot in order to repeat their mantras, or visualize their success. I had successes to visualize. But I couldn't foresee how this birth was going to go. Where was I going to have this baby? "You might try squatting through some contractions," suggested Mary. "Your cervix is still posterior. It needs to come forward. I want you to visualize that cervix coming forward and opening up, just like a beautiful flower."

I got some pillows and kneeled beside the tub. By hugging the side of the tub and kneeling with my legs far apart, I got through some contractions. Here I had what I felt had to be a God-given insight. As I was squeezing my rosary and visualizing those huge, blooming roses they have over in Portland, I heard a thought: "The contractions are going to reach a peak...and they won't get any worse. The only thing that will happen is that the baby will move down. Nothing's going to happen to you. Just relax through it and let the baby move down." I squatted and visualized through more contractions. Soon, it seemed, a tingling sensation was gripping the side of my legs with each contraction and I could feel a slight burning sensation inside me, my cervix probably. I told Mary about it. "Good, good!" she cheered. "That's what we want to hear."

By then, all the midwives had shown up. Mary's assistant was her daughter, Emily, who had three children of her own. There was also a Japanese midwife, who had been hoping to observe a waterbirth. I was dimly aware of a constant flow of conversation in the background. "Oh, I never leave a multip who's at four centimeters. This one time..." "Do you think we should try and call her?" "I hope she gets here in time..." "Is this how they do it in Japan?" The house seemed full of people, but I was deaf to everything but my own struggle to stay on top of these contractions.

"I want you to try and not breathe so deeply," said Mary at one point. "You're hyperventilating." It was true. I was lightheaded, and felt tired. The last thing I needed was to pass out while trying to have this baby. There was a quick search around the house for a paper bag. I breathed into the bag between contractions, but still gulped air during the contraction. "Try to have more normal breaths during the contraction," Mary said. "I don't know..." I said, confusedly. "I don't know any other way to do this." I had always gotten through by gulping air and moaning for all I was worth. The compression of breath does wonders for pain.

But I was resolved to obey everything Mary said. It was like it was a condition. A deal between me and Jesus. I had been having a real struggle with obedience lately, even if I felt I had my reasons. But this was the deal, I felt. I would trust her and do everything she said. If she told me to breathe normally during the contractions, then there must be a way to do it. So I tried it. The contraction intensified, reached up as if it were going to engulf me, then I drew the breath out in a weird, moaning laugh: "huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh" After a bit, it worked. I broke out in a sweat, but felt more alert.

But I was also feeling more intense pressure. I had to find a new position. My arms were getting tired--and without the tub I knew I was wasting energy just by holding myself up. I needed to focus on getting through the contractions while letting my lower body open up and relax. I asked for a certain mattress we had that folded up into the shape of a chair. The chair was almost worthless as something to sit on--but I draped myself over it and hugged the back, and it gave support to my belly and legs. By now the contractions were at their peak intensity. The tingling in my legs and hips was wild--my cervix, a ring of fire. But that mantra kept occupying my head: "It's not going to get any worse...let the baby move down." I could actually feel the baby's head doming and stretching and moving through the cervix.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and more voices. Mary came back up. "I need to check you again," she said. "The birth tub is here and it'll take 20 minutes to set up. We need to know where you are." I had no concept of time. Had I been doing this for 30 minutes? Or 3 hours? "Don't check me," I gasped. No fingers. No more pressure. Don't ask me to change position. "We have to know if we have time to set up the birth tub," she said. Her next few words faded out as I felt a sudden shift within me and an uncontrollable urge to push. "Too late," I gulped. "I'm pushing!" "OK then," she said. "Too late!" I heard her yell down the stairs. Later I learned that Elisa from Waterbirth International had volunteered to try and drive the tub up to us in time for my birth.

Then there was a whir of activity--pads laid on the floor, pans and cloths brought out, gloves being pulled on--and Mary said, "Where do you want to have this baby?" I looked around frantically. "You could go on your hands and knees," Mary suggested. I looked, dubiously, the next contraction imminent. No way I could hold myself up. "You could squat at the end of the bed," she said next. The bed. We had acquired a stately, humongous cannon-ball type wooden bedstead from my dad, which had a footboard with an enormous turned wooden bar across the end of it. "I could hang onto this," I said tentatively, not sure how. "Why don't you squat in front of it," she said. Ugh. Squatting. But the contraction was coming. Hurriedly I whipped off my bathrobe, squatted down in front of the footboard and hung my arms over that bar. Reaching down, I just felt my fingers lock in some grooves that were carved into the footboard when the contraction hit.

Then we were off to the races! Pushing is nothing like the more passive process of trying to relax and wait out the contraction. It's active, and immediate. You can finally do something. It took me a couple of contractions to remember which muscles to use, however. You only use these muscles when you're giving birth. It's like trying on the ice skates in the back of your closet. "You should stand up and rest between each contraction," came Mary's voice, seeming far away and irrelevant compared to the tsunami building up inside me. But she was right. Dean was there, now. He helped me up. Then down again, plunged into the roar of the waves, my moans rising to screams as I felt the roundness of the baby's head just inside the opening.

The screaming is primal. Its source isn't simply pain--it's partly the unstoppable impulse of nature (asking a woman to stop pushing at this stage is like spitting into a hurricane), partly the panic of realizing there's a baby in your vagina and the physics seem impossible, and partly the fact that all your muscles are rock-hard...and your throat is just along for the ride. "Pushing" is really an abysmal descriptor for what's going on.

Still, I pushed. Each time I pushed with all my strength, because I felt I was at the end of my strength--suspended on that bar between heaven and hell. Finally I felt fingers, Mary's gloved hand reaching in, feeling around for a moment, then pulling. Plish! There went the water sac. My water never seems to break until Mary breaks it right before the head crowns. But it meant we were almost done! Wearily, I stood up. Then down, gathering everything for the last two pushes, the head straining, almost out...will it go? Screams rising into shrieks as the head stretches, stretches, gloved fingers pulling at me one moment, pushing on me with a warm washcloth the next--then out! No time! The next thing, an impossibly large, bony pressure, a huge contraction, more shrieking (was that me?), more fingers pulling, another huge thing popping, then sliding bbblblllllllblldldddddthumpwhoosh...

And then crying! Little gray limbs flushed with pink, a red mouth, wiggling arms and legs. My baby.

"It's Philip Joseph!" someone (my husband) cried.

Immediately, I was calm. "Oh my baby," I said in a husky voice, sinking to the floor. I don't know what Mary did in the few seconds between when he came out and when she handed him to me, made sure he was breathing OK, I suppose--but as soon as he was in my arms, heaven began. [Oh, but there was blood everywhere! Just like with my first birth. Messy messy. With the birth pool, it was so clean, everything just washed off into the water.] I was helped up and into bed, the warm blanket and the tea were brought, my baby snuggled in my arms as I was able to finally lay down and relax my whole body, the terrible pressure gone.

After that, a kind of party atmosphere prevailed. I looked at the clock: ten minutes to six. "How long?" I asked. "From the time I got here and first checked you, it's been 2 hours nine minutes," said Mary. Emily and Akiko bustled about, gathering up the pads, pulling out towels, packing up unused supplies and unneeded equipment (Mary always came equipped with oxygen, Pitocin, IV, stitching-up supplies--"I never use it," she told me once). Pictures were taken, the kids came and went, the placenta came out, food was brought. Dean lay down with me and checked the baby out, but couldn't get too close for fear he was still sick. Then the poor guy went back to babysitting duty. I got to cut the cord this time, and settled Philip down to nurse. He latched on immediately, and everyone left me alone for a while.

***

A little later Mary came back to examine the baby. He was found to be hale and whole, all 19 1/2 inches of him. She checks the spine and the palate, the hips and testes, traces the fontanelles and pushes gently on his tummy. Emily took down notes as Mary dictated them. He was 7 lbs 4 oz, the same weight as his brother Carl was. "Well, he's not a preemie," she pronounced.

***

Later that night, lying next to Philip, I kept re-living the birth again and again. It's such a mind-blowing thing. You wonder how you ever did it. I looked over at the crucifix on the wall, and I thought No, I didn't do it. You did it, just like I asked. Then I realized that for women, the inevitability of childbirth had always been the corollary to the cross. It is how we share in Christ's suffering. And I know we share in his suffering in all kinds of ways (every suffering can be connected and offered with the sufferings of Christ)--but there's something about birth, the nature of it, and the risks women have always taken. For those moments when we are in labor--when we are pushing for our lives, so to speak--we hang between heaven and hell...between death and life. We hang onto our cross, and find ourselves with Christ.

I'm saying all this because I realize natural birth isn't an easy sell. These days when women cry for their epidurals as soon as they hit the hospital bed and the doctor stands by with his scalpel at the ready, why do birth the old-fashioned way? I've talked up the benefits of giving birth in a birthing tub, but can there possibly be any benefit in the trials I've described here? I leave that to your own judgment, dear reader. Granted, there are cost savings. There are certain benefits to health (fewer interventions=less risk of surgery, quicker recovery). But these mean nothing to a woman when the fear and uncertainty surrounding birth looms large in her mind.

Media depictions of birth don't help. Even a "natural" childbirth, when it happens in hospital, seems frightening--a last resort, when there's nothing they could "do." Birth is seen as scary, painful, uncertain, and dangerous. Women fear it. Men try to control it. People take drugs to prevent it. People kill their babies to prevent it.

It's just not true. Birth is difficult, yes. But it is also wonderful, transcendant, triumphant, and empowering by the realization of a few facts.

1. We are designed for this.

2. God is in control.

3. Babies are good.

I've written about this birth in such detail in order to show that it is a process, one that need not be fearful or unduly painful. It can be understood, it can be breathed through, talked through, and thought through. It can be experienced instead of avoided. It is something special about being a woman that, in all the furor over equal rights, has been misjudged and sold short for too long.

"It builds character," pronounced Mary, when I mentioned this blog article to her. "How are you ever going to get through anything difficult in life, any hardships, if all you've known is comfort? And labor pains...they only last one minute. You can do anything for one minute." She described how an epidural-free birth is better for the baby, helps the initial nursing/bonding period along and speeds recovery for the mom. We talked about the hormones that go cascading through the woman's body during labor and birth, amounting to natural pain relief.

I would also add, as a final note (whew!) that great joy only comes with some suffering. We can spend our lives grasping for pleasure and avoiding pain, like the animals...or we can appreciate the facts of our unique nature as human beings and as women. The ability to carry life and to give birth are great gifts...and should be treated as such. In the Catholic Church, women are far from being treated as second-class citizens, as some believe. The Church has always recognized woman's unique role as life-giver and nurturer. Humankind cannot survive without it. This role, moreover, appropriately mirrors the role of the Church. Souls are given new life through baptism, are nurtured and sustained by the sacraments, are "grafted in" to the Body of Christ and given an entirely new life. This is why the Church is often referred to as "the Bride of Christ." What an honor to be able to live this reality in our bodies!

"You don't need to fill the creche, honey"

2007-12-10T22:56:00.000-08:00

Just a quick note to let anybody know that blogging will be thin for the next month. I mean, if I get an energy spurt and a piece of note paper I might go on a real tear (my next target is the banking industry), but the fact is I've got a sizeable wriggling watermelon in my abdomen that pretty much dictates what I get to do with my day. Basically, when the kids are down, I sit. I sit and knit, or sit and talk on the phone and knit, or sit in front of the Internet (if only I could knit).

My midwife says I need to take walks. I try to stifle my incredulous laughter. Even after walking the short distance to the mailbox, this baby feels like it's about to drop out. The due date--Jan 6--approaches. But it feels too far away.

Preparing for a third baby is a lot different than the first one. Where to put the baby is a principal concern. This child will be lodging in our (pretty big) walk-in closet for a time, until I can get the boys to share a room (Tom doesn't always sleep for his nap, while Carl does). I cleared off the changing table, weeded out some ragged diapers, and rounded up enough plastic pants to last me several months (thank you, Rachel!). The dresser had to be cleared off, the birth kit refurbished. I need to stop by medical supply and pick up a few things. Then the birth tub will be paid for and picked up.

This is going to be a home birth.

While this idea has become comfortable for me, it scares a lot of people. So I don't mean to advocate it unconditionally. My experience with Tom in the hospital has given me a lot of faith in conventional medical care, and were I to need their services, I wouldn't get a spike in my blood pressure about it. However, the road less traveled in birth--at least by most Americans--deserves a look. It offers advantages that some women might prefer:

1. You're in control.

2. You can avoid unnecessary medical intervention.

3. You can avoid unnecessary and inflated expenses.

I don't know how it happened, but there's a subtle conditioning at play that says, you're not safe giving birth anywhere except in a hospital bed with a doctor catching the baby and the OR and neonatal unit located just down the hall. When I was about three months from giving birth to my first, somebody asked me whether I'd ever considered home birth, and I was stunned. "You mean, people still do that?" was my reaction. But then I went home and Googled "home birth" and my education began.

Not only do a substantial number of moms give birth at home, but they enjoy lower mortality rates and much lower Cesarean section rates than the rest of the population. Outside the US, where midwives and birth centers (not hospitals) are the norm, outcomes for moms and babies are even better (we're talking industrialized nations here, not the third world).

Not only do home birth moms enjoy better outcomes, they reap incredible savings. While the average vaginal birth in hospital can cost upwards of $8-$10,000 (and you meet parents of toddlers who are still "paying on the birth") a home birth can be as cheap as free. Not that midwives don't request compensation--fees vary considerably--but our first two births were covered completely by insurance.

How's that again?

The typical medical codes and charges submitted by our midwife were reimbursed as if we had given birth in a hospital--which we hadn't--so our midwife's very reasonable fee was fully covered from what they reimbursed us, and she returned to us all that we had paid her on deposit. It doesn't always work out so well. Now we are on a cheap insurance plan with a high deductible. But here again--thank the Lord for home birth! Because the premiums on our current insurance are super-low, we can afford to pay the midwife out-of-pocket and not pay any more than what the premiums under the old plan would have been.

Of course, you must do your homework if you plan to pursue a home birth. I interviewed four midwives with a two-page questionnaire before I found my midwife, the one that seemed more friend than anything and inspired my confidence. I am not suggesting that any mom take risks with her health or her baby. High-risk pregnancies are why we have hospitals. But I do believe that many risks are exaggerated, and pregnancies which would have turned out just fine if left alone are turned into medically-managed "conditions" that scare the crap out of the parents and cost them thousands. Even if I had a so-called "high risk" pregnancy, I think I would consult an experienced midwife before I sought conventional medical help. I've spoken to midwives who've caught 3,000 kids apiece and believe me, they've seen it all.

But how do you get through a labor without pain management? Hmmm. While I am not the be-all, end-all expert on pain (and I hope never to be!), I can offer a few thoughts from my own experience. After having read Dr. Dick-Read's Childbirth Without Fear and a LaMaze manual, I thought I was prepared for the birth of my first. "I've been through boot camp," I thought. "This'll be no sweat." Whoa, was I wrong. Not only was the labor really long (36 hours by my count--Mary's was somewhat less), but the pushing was very hard and I was exhausted by the time the kid came out, bloody wet mess everywhere--about as medieval as you can get. Sounds terrible, right?

But here's the silver lining. Despite the endurance test and mess of that first birth, I may have avoided a host of medical interventions that could have left me with a Cesarean scar and an admonishment about future births. I would have left the hospital with a baby, for sure, but also with a lot of trauma and trepidation about the birth process (not to mention a huge bill). This experience is all-too-common for first time moms, unfortunately. No wonder they swear they'll stop at two.

The funny thing is that after that birth, I felt empowered. I was thrilled with my baby, amazed at my own accomplishment, and (I confess) a bit proud for having done it "my way" (my midwife thinks I was nuts for not using a birth tub). I recovered quickly and was so thrilled about being a mom that we voluntarily got pregnant again nine months later! I just don't think I would have felt the same way about it had the whole thing gone down in a hospital.

But we were talking about pain...I think contractions are more painful when the mom is tense, or afraid. It's not like breaking an arm. There is sensation, pressure...you breathe through it as long as you can. Then you start moaning. Your brain squirms around in your head trying to make sense of everything, and distractions become incredibly irritating. Then you can't think in words at all. Time sort of stops. It's just you and that massive force building up inside you. You moan louder. A weak, downward pushing seems to help. For me, sitting on the toilet seemed to help. Most women feel pain because they tighten up in fear, in fear that the contractions will just get stronger and stronger until they can't handle them anymore. But Dr. Dick-Read was right: they reach a peak of strength and just kind of stay there awhile. But if you can work with them up to that point, slowly, you can manage them (not having nurses running in and out of the room sticking their hands in your vagina is also nice).

Hot water helps.

The second time we used a birthing tub. This is simply a portable hot tub that was set up in the guest room after the labor started. We were caught a bit off guard by Thomas, since I hadn't had a period and we didn't have a sure way to set the due date. But everything came together quickly and the labor was obviously going to be much shorter. Instead of 36 hours this time, the whole thing was done in about 6.

You float in the warm water, and breathe. The midwife shouts into your tin ear, "The baby is moving down! Everything's normal!" You feel the urge to panic a little bit, then someone suggests you change position, grunt a little more. Surprisingly, it works. You can feel that baby moving down. But the contractions are oh-so-powerful. Something else is taking over your body. You have to give in to it. You have to give yourself over to God. This, I think, is the secret to natural childbirth. You gotta have faith in the process, that it is a process that was created by God, and it's natural and normal. Just a few more pushes and--amazingly, incredibly, with a thubbity-bubbity-whoosh--deliverance. Then I brought the baby--still underwater, and whisper-soft--up into my arms, where he immediately drew his first breath, turned pink, and opened his eyes for the first time. Everyone was laughing and crying and we were singing hymns.

As wonderful as my births were, I have to recommend home birth for the aftermath, as well. Instead of a cold tile hospital room with paper sheets, I was wrapped in a warm blanket fresh from the dryer, tucked into my own bed, and brought a cup of strong, sweet tea while the midwife examined the baby and my husband cut the cord. The baby was placed in my arms, where he was urged to nurse immediately. The placenta came out when it was ready, and I was packed into a diaper, on top of a waterproof pad. After I urinated (this part is important to make sure there's no damage to the bladder or urethra), the midwife left for the night with a promise to be back tomorrow. Then...sleep...oh wonderful sleep, that terrible pressure gone, gazing on the face of my new little one, who was allowed to sleep as well (no force-feeding all night).

So there's my apologetic on home birth. Is it for everybody? Probably not. If a mom (or her husband, for that matter) are simply too nervous, then don't bother with it. It's something you have to look into and decide about for yourselves. And I don't advise a woman to go against her husband's feelings on it. Birth is a really touchy-feely thing and everybody needs to be on the same wavelength in order to support the mom. But it can be a true liberation, if learned about and pursued with a proper perspective--in Dr. Dick-Read's words: "a monument of joy."

Mr. Bonner admits he's a Christian...well, almost

2007-11-28T00:24:00.000-08:00

As I think I've shared with ya'll, before, I've read most of Bill Bonner's ouevre by now and am convinced the man is a Catholic. However, he's never directly acknowledged the fact, never used the words "Catholic" or "Christian," and never mentioned the name of Jesus, although his indirect references to God and the Catholic faith fly thick and fast in his writing. So I've been keeping an eye on this guy for more direct references--a soulwatch, if you will.

Because I want to believe Bill Bonner's soul is saved.

Maybe it's because he's the same age as my dad. Maybe it's because he's a good writer. Maybe it's because, in his world-weary pose as a cynical, contrarian, "metrosexual" ex-pat living mostly in France, he reminds me of a modern-day Erasmus--in secular drag. And yet...I haven't been able to really believe he was a Catholic who lived his faith...until today:

"The more man gets; the more he wants. If he can communicate via Internet…or via airplane…he'll do both. The Internet Revolution was supposed to reduce the demand for fossil fuel. Finally, man had conquered distance. You no longer needed to commute to the office…or half way around the globe. You could have your meeting, and do your work, without ever leaving home.
But what has happened? Now people work from the home…and the office! And still they travel. They want it all - bigger houses, more stuff, more vacations…and they want to work harder too.

"Work…work…work…consume…consume…consume…

"But something went wrong with this model in America. In the last quarter of the last century, people worked harder than ever. What did it get them? Nothing. Nobody realized it, but they had reached an era of declining marginal utility of work."

This is just a sample from one of his columns--which he churns out daily--and proves why I just love this guy. No dry analysis here...every statistic comes with a story. Every financial crisis has a face. In fact, the 'Daily Reckoning' often veers into personal territory, especially at the end:

"Last night's repast was organized by our friend, the reverend Peter Mullen, rector of St. Michael's Cornhill in The City. Peter is chaplain to the London Stock Exchange and an activist.

...

"We must do what we can to reverse what I call 'secular terrorism,'" he said. "You know, this didn't come from nowhere. A small group of intellectuals - notably Herbert Marcuse - got together. They said they needed to infiltrate our institutions and conduct a program of 'secular terrorism.' Marcuse used that expression. And that's what they did. Now, we have a situation where it is practically illegal, in Britain, for a teacher to tell his class that he is a Christian. And God help you if you dare to suggest that one religion is better than another. Even our own priests and ministers don't really believe in Christianity anymore. Many Church of England priests never even open the prayer book. They're victims of secular terrorism; they no longer believe their own faith. Instead, they believe all religions are equal…and all ideas are equally valid."

This is something I'd expect to read on a self-proclaimed Christian site. You could imagine he was Anglican or even an Evangelical for a moment. But then Bonner adds his own slant:

"We had a hard time concentrating. In front of us sat one of the most exquisite women we had ever seen. 'Yes, there is a God,' we said to ourselves. She had long red hair…and the kind of face you see on goddesses painted by Italian dreamers. She was probably in her 20's…so innocent and so lovely. And when she spoke, the tones came out like dessert.

"But what was she doing there? She was surrounded by middle-aged men, all of them grumping about the government, the intellectuals, the schools, art…finance…and all the other bad habits of our times…while recalling how much better things were 50 years ago. Her presence seemed so improbable, like a wedding cake in a machine shop. But it had a good effect on the old fellows. We sat up a little straighter and tucked in our shirts. Instead of yakking to one another with our typical boorish insouciance, we pulled in our stomachs and began making speeches. Now we had an audience…and a purpose.

"We are not the first to be in this position," began one Old Boy near us. "Since the days of Rome, we Christians have been a persecuted minority…not always…and not everywhere. But often. It's part of what makes us what we are. We have to be willing to accept martyrdom. That's what it's all about."

Aha! Gotcha, Bill! You're not just some cynical old nominal Catholic who glances balefully at the Church through bloodshot eyes while keeping a tight grip on the world, the wine, and your wallet. Neither are you a milk-and-water minister's man, with theology that goes only as deep as your boot soles.

No...this is a flesh-and-blood Catholic worldview that fully acknowledges original sin, man's faculties and frailties, and the beauties and pleasures of this life--while holding it all in an eternal perspective.

For a guy writing in secular finance, this is amazing.

Read the whole thing here.

Wacky Ways to Save Money Part 4: Dump Divin'

2007-11-14T21:52:00.000-08:00

Today while washing dishes, I contemplated the fact that if all American families lived like we do, thousands of consumer-oriented industries would go under. There would be no "Cosmic Coffee" houses or "Pizza Planet" restaurants. Niche fashion boutiques would cease to exist, and nail salons would be unheard of. In fact (the mind boggles) even the vast secondhand market that I so depend on would soon dry up without the daily infusion of "old stuff" being moved out to make way for "new stuff."

If that sounds extreme, then check out this factoid: consumer spending accounts for more than 70% of GDP!!

That's right folks. Our economy depends on our secular spendthrift neighbors' continuous use of credit cards! If people just stopped spending money, except on bare necessities, our country would grind to a halt overnight. Mish keeps warning there's a severe consumer-led recession in the offing, but I don't think people realize just how bad it would be if we had one. The GDP figure above tells one side of the story. The facts on debt tell another. The third thing to consider is that more Americans rely on service industries for employment than ever before in our history. As spending slows, more and more consumer-oriented companies will announce lower earnings...their stock will plummet...they will scrap expansion plans and shed workers...which will lead to less spending as the pool of retail, food-related, and other service jobs dries up--and so on and so on.

The only thing to end a recessionary cascade like this is some prop consumers can cling to to shore up spending. In the '90's it was the "wealth effect" of rising stock and house prices, accompanied by credit card debt. After the recession of '01-02, the housing bubble created a refinance boom, and people pulled cash out of their houses, and piled on more credit card debt. Now with the stock market at a wobbly peak and housing in freefall, there is only one prop left--credit cards. With foreclosures and credit card defaults on the rise, it's clear the American consumer is tapped out. If he loses his job as well, the downward spiral has only one place left to go--bankruptcy. And as more and more people seek relief via bankruptcy, there is a bigger push to change the laws and so tie the consumer to his debt forever.

What happens to an economy when the recession is so long and so deep (and the debts are so staggering) that all the government spending in the world, along with the lowest interest rates in the world, don't do any good? Nobody really knows. Japan is still dragging itself out of a deflationary depression that has spanned 15 years and counting. But their people never stopped saving money. They had a trade surplus. Nobody knows what would happen if the US were to slide into a deflationary death spiral. The Daily Reckoning guys have made a stab at it in books like Financial Reckoning Day:Surviving the Soft Depression of the Twenty-First Century, The Demise of the Dollar, and Empire of Debt: The Rise of an Epic Financial Crisis. We find clues in bankrupted "Banana Republic" type countries or the dusty records of ancient Rome. But no country in history has ever carried so much debt for so long.

The sheer madness of it is staggering. If you want to see America digging its own economic grave, just take a drive to the dump. There you will see discarded hoards of consumer junk arriving by the truckload. Now, with my wacky title I am not suggesting you get out of your car and start digging through the dump. Nor will you need to squat on the edge of it, as impoverished people often do here in our own hemisphere (doubtless it's illegal). Neither do I advocate completely shutting yourself off from society and homesteading it (although some people have managed this, and I admire them for it).

I am suggesting three main survival strategies:

1: Stockpile necessities.

2. When shopping, see things for their utility and functionality.

3. Learn to hoard raw materials and supply some of your own needs through self-sufficiency.

As you can see, this will hardly require the cessation of all spending. In fact, if you like shopping, this strategy works best the more you shop. The trick is changing your mentality from a "spending" frame of mind to a "buying" frame of mind. If you are a housewife, you are likely the chief "buyer" for your household. The household needs certain supplies, tools, and raw materials. The household does NOT need Dish Network Satellite systems, extraneous gewgaws and gadgets, or a new set of decor for every season. One has to learn to see through all the marketing and advertising hype and ask oneself a series of questions:

"Do we need this?" "For what?" "For how long?" "Is there some other way to fill this need?" "If not, is the price of this thing reasonable?" "Will it last?" "How much space does it take up and are we willing to store it?" "What kind of maintenance will it require?" "How will we eventually dispose of it?" "Will it have been worth it?"

This mental flow chart will certainly slow spending--it might even slow your intestinal tract for a few days. However, it soon becomes second nature as the rate of accumulation drops and you begin to see the utility in things you already have.

What does it look like in practice? I shop a lot of clearance sales. In fact, my husband is used to hearing me say, "I'm going on a clearance crawl, honey," or disappearing in the middle of a large store because I spotted a fire sale somewhere. I shop secondhand stores. I scan recycling bins if I'm on a walk or a drive on trash day. And garage saling, I'm told, is an art in itself--one I hope to get more into as the kids get older. In our garage is a storage room with old particleboard shelving on which I store everything from canned goods to light bulbs to oddments of tools and hardware I've bought on clearance. Then when I need something, I don't have to make a special trip and pay top dollar...I can just go to my "store."

You can "trash-pick" on the Internet as well. My friend Rachel is a regular on Freecycle. She's always talking about something she posted there or got from there. Some people are incredibly skilled with sewing, or fabricating with raw material like wood or metal and can make lots of things out of scrap. Others are great with tools and can fix anything. I can't say we're like those people, but if you have a skill like that, it's money in your pocket whenever you can supply a need for yourself rather than being at the mercy of current pricing.

One more thing. Like compulsive eating, compulsive spending is a habit you can get into purely because it satisfies some part of you that is emotional in nature. The most intoxicating thing about acquiring new stuff is usually the first rush of newness--opening the packaging, taking out something that is perfectly clean and shows no wear, that works (or is supposed to work) perfectly, that distracts you from your worries and your to-do list for a few hours or days.

Remember that first real clothes shopping trip to the mall when you were a teen, with a friend in tow and a wad of discretionary cash in your hand? Trying on the clothes, pulling out the hangers, carrying those big bags around and pulling off the tags after you got home and performed a little fashion show for anybody who would notice? New stuff distracts us for a moment...we can forget about all the things we have that need cleaning or repair, all the unfinished projects or little niggling worries that have no solution at the moment. We can pretend that we are starting over...just for the moment...and that life will be better this time. Maybe if we just find the next great sale or the perfect bargain we can "make a killing" on something we wanted...something that replaces something else in the past that we didn't get. Or regret. In the end, consumer economics is more psychology than science. The clearer your head, the better you can play the game.

Let's not forget...and perhaps we should have taken this as our starting point, that we are completely naked and impoverished before God. No matter how much "stuff" we have, we'll never take it with us. I speak as somebody who really likes "stuff," and I definitely could cut back (even on my secondhand hauls). I have to constantly remind myself to adopt a spirit of poverty. Even if I could find something that I wanted at an acceptable price, that doesn't mean I should go and get it. I always ask myself, "Could I live without this?" Deep inside the answer always is, "Yes, you can."

UPDATE: After discussing this topic with my best friend (a history/social studies/economics teacher), she asked in frustration, "Why do people spend all this money on ridiculous stuff?" This topic begs the question, which I was then forced to think about. Why do people spend instead of save? There are several reasons:

1. If the Fed keeps interest rates artificially low (say, to stimulate the economy and "save" us from a recession, as they did in '01), then it lowers the cost of borrowing for banks, which then turn around and advertise lots of "great deals" on mortgage rates, home equity loans, credit cards, you name it.

2. At the same time it pushes down the rate of return savers earn on the money they keep in the bank. Aggressive advertising, "low low payments" and sales-of-the-century induce people to part with the cash--because they figure they're never going to see a deal this good again, and they might as well get it if they want it (hey, times are good, right?).

3. The price of the consumer's house keeps going up, which induces him or her to refinance and cash out their equity, or buy a bigger, newer house because mortgage debt appears as an asset, not a liability.

4. However, the same inflation that boosted house prices means that any money saved today will only be eaten away in the future. So why save? People just look at all the credit offers flooding the mailbox and start playing a shell game with their debt, figuring that the easy money will always be there, as long as they can afford the payments.

The result is the highest rate of consumer indebtedness in history. There is no money left to spend. The trouble is, when you borrow money you don't have, you're not borrowing some other money out there that used to belong to someone else. You are borrowing money from some bank who borrowed it from the Fed who created it out of nothing. Trick is, you have to pay it back with real money that you earn with your sweat and your blood.

If all the creditors came calling at once, the shell game would be up for good. This is the reason why so many banks are in trouble. They borrowed money (which did not exist) in order to make risky bets (which did not pay off) and now they are facing margin calls from investors who are expecting to be paid in real money (which there's not enough of). The length and depth and breadth of the "credit crunch" can only be measured in terms of how many banks can keep their "creditors" (the investors) at bay long enough to find the money to pay them enough to keep the game going.

Hint: there's not nearly enough.

But doesn't frugality hurt the economy? As I hope I've demonstrated, it only hurts in an economy that runs on debt. In a well-ordered economic system, there is enough incentive to save and for savers to invest their capital in good businesses, in expansion of production and technical progress--an environment in which competition thrives and prices are driven down through innovation in manufacturing and the delivery of goods and services. This is an economy in which no one need fear to save, to invest, or to spend--provided interest rates are set by free market forces which give accurate information about the value of money to the consumer and producer.

Quickies

2007-10-27T21:53:00.000-07:00

Here's a couple of articles on Marketwatch covering similar territory to this series:

Not so wacky ways to raise cash, especially short term: including raiding your Roth, taking loans against your 401(k), sending the kids to work and selling the new car to buy an older one.

A second look at the mutual fund industry: most moms-and-pops don't even bat an eye at the burgeoning scandal in this massive industry that sucks up our life savings year after year.

More on investing, Roth IRA's, 401(k)'s, and mutual funds will come later in my wacky little series...

Dad, Housing Ain't Gonna Bounce Back

2007-10-25T23:33:00.000-07:00

Along with religion, politics, and your early sex life--you can add money to the list of "things you can't talk about with your parents." Just when it seemed my dad was about to succumb to the lure of paid work, my stepmom let it slip..."until we can get back into real estate again."

GAHHH!

My father is an incurable entrepreneur. In his mind, he has made and lost a thousand fortunes. He's had scads of business ideas, plans, and schemes. This is not to say that some of them weren't smart, or on the level, or had potential...it's just that entrepreneurship is a risky career, and few people have the chops to pull it out. My dad isn't one of them. He's always a step behind the curve, one of the millions of dreamers who decide to plunk money down on a "sure thing" just when the smart money is running for its life. Despite his stated intention to make a million before he leaves this earth, I suspect I'll bury the old bear penniless.

But I can't say any of this to him.

Even when I see charts like this.

Or read stuff like this:

"The idea that housing doesn't go down turns on its head when you actually calculate in the real-world costs of interest, taxes, insurance, etc. For instance, before those costs are counted, it looks like 16 out of the 17 top real estate markets in the 1990s were in the black. Once you add them in, however, it turns out that not one of the top property markets went up. They were all negative.

"In the 2000s, up to May 2007, you get something similar…three markets that, in unrealistic terms supposedly shot up 18%, 33%, and 36% during that period, are all actually net losers…down 10.5%, 13.4%, and 28.2%. As in negative. The gains were phantom stats from the fantasy world of no-cost property ownership.

"Running through the rest of the list, the other major markets did still make money. But instead of the astounding triple-digit gains property owners love to point to as proof that this bubble was the real deal, you find out that only two of the markets - net of costs - actually crossed the 100%-gain mark (instead of 10 markets). And annualized, only two markets were even a little above 10% gains in property values.

"Not bad, but not a miracle by any stretch.

"Two more of those top markets just barely squeaked past the annualized 8.5% gains in the S&P 500 for the same period. All the rest of the top 17 markets looked at in this article did worse than the S&P. During what was supposed to be the biggest property boom of all time.

"Again, this isn't to say there wasn't a bubble. Just that it truly was an event completely devoid of sanity."

Mish caps it off with:

"The excesses of the current cycle have never been greater in history. The odds are strong that we have seen secular as opposed to cyclical peaks in housing starts and new single family home construction. With that in mind it is highly unlikely we merely return to the trend. If history repeats, and there is every reason it will, we are going to undercut those long term trendlines.

"There will be additional pressures a few years down the road when empty nesters and retired boomers start looking to downsize. Who will be buying those McMansions? Immigration also comes into play. If immigration policies and protectionism get excessively restrictive, that can also lengthen the decline.

"Finally, note that the current boom has lasted well over twice as long as any other. If the bust lasts twice as long as any other, 1012 just might be a rather optimistic target for a bottom."

Sigh...

WW3: Live in a Bus

2007-10-16T00:41:00.000-07:00

Ordinarily, nobody in their right mind would willingly go out and buy something that was more than five times his or her yearly income. Especially if they didn't even have enough cash on hand to survive a job loss or other personal crisis. But that is what people have done. Barraged by ads screaming "lowest mortgage rates since the '60's," people have rushed out and bought homes whether they could afford it or not. And they've done it gladly, even though they know they can never hope to pay it back. Instead, they are counting on housing prices to continue to rise...counting on the next "fool" to come along and pay the inflated price. What they didn't count on was that housing prices couldn't rise forever.

The mistaken premise in the whole scheme is that in the modern economy, a house isn't just a house anymore--it's an "investment." And, as our new national mantra seems to be "you've got to spend money to make money," people have figured that buying houses in a rising market is a sure bet. The richer people have been chasing bigger, more beautiful homes because low payments make them seem affordable (and/or buying properties and "flipping" them), while the poorer people have been persuaded that if they don't pull out all the stops to buy a house now, they'll be priced out of the market. What hasn't been looked at is that owning a house carries costs--and those costs only increase along with risk when the hapless homeowner begins to see himself as a fledgling entrepreneur.

This story is one that I've lived, as my father chased one real estate boom after another. He lost his shirt in '91 and had to declare bankruptcy, which forced the course of my life to where it is today. I never forgot--and resolved not to get in over my head when it came to real estate.

This is not to say that there are no benefits to owning a home. Provided you can maintain the home and keep ahead of the loan while building equity, a home is one of the few investments we "little people" can make that stand to dramatically increase our net worth. Homes are assets that typically appreciate in value over time, fattening the bottom line. In the right market, a superb sale can bring a capital gains windfall for the homeowner. In the meantime, private homes offer the maximum in status, satisfaction, privacy, sense of control, and dignity over any other form of housing. Home ownership is also touted for being an excellent tax shelter, whether through the mortgage interest deduction alone, or as a partial business expense deduction. However, there is a right way and a wrong way to approach it.

The costs of home ownership are hardly ever considered when eager buyers begin to scan the local MLS. They include substantial front-end costs: loan fees and points ("closing costs"), the cost of inspection and/or appraisals, a down payment or "earnest money," and private mortgage insurance. While living in the home the owners are responsible for maintenance and repair, property taxes and insurance, improvements to the home, and repair and replacement of major appliances (the furnace, for instance). All of this is on top of the monthly mortgage payment and all utilities for the home--a shock to the former apartment dweller.

Houses cost out the back end as well. An owner seeking to sell must ensure that he will earn enough off the sale of the home to cover the remainder of the mortgage as well as steep realtor fees, "spiffing up" the house for market, and last-minute repairs. And while most homeowners don't usually consider it, selling a house only makes sense if one can get back all the money one has put into the home already, including what it cost to buy the home plus all the major improvements. I think most homeowners would be shocked to realize that, even if they could get all their money back out (including some free and clear capital gain), the inflation accompanying the boom has eroded the value of what remains. In 2001, the buck bought 25% more than it does today. Take that out of your equity, and the over-enthusiasm for home ownership seems misplaced.

But despite the high cost, people still buy houses. Is there any way to win? There is--but the hitch is that it takes long-term planning. If you bought a subprime ARM in 2005, you can forget winning in the short term. Your might just have to walk away. Others might be able to "start over" only after getting out from under their current mortgages. If you're in an apartment, stay tuned and take notes. The fact is that most homeowners do not intend to really "own" the home. Most people plan on selling sooner or later and netting a profit. Hoping against that event, you should take care of your house, but don't just throw money at it. Instead, work at paying off non-mortgage debt as discussed in my first post. This frees up money to pay for needed improvements and/or a 6 month emergency savings fund, depending on which need is more urgent (some people are in such bad loans that getting out is more important than saving money). Once you've set that part in motion, you can plan your next move with precision. Ask yourself these questions:

Can we move to a less expensive region? You'll want to consider overall income/cost of living ratio and the availability of jobs, not just home prices.

Can we live in a smaller and/or older house? May involve safety issues...and neighborhoods can be iffy--research carefully.

Can we live in the house long-term? Moving every few years is an enormous strain financially, physically, and emotionally--even more so if you buy houses everywhere you go.

Can we pay off the property? Early? This is the best way to ensure affordable housing, despite property taxes. You'll also save a fortune in interest if you pre-pay.

Can we live in unconventional housing and/or buy in an unconventional way? Consider auctions, foreclosures, or buying land and building your own house.

Can we be completely debt free before we buy again? The best scenario if you have to carry a mortgage--better yet, save up a substantial down payment, at least 20%.

Once you have the answers to these questions, you can be honest with yourself about what you can and cannot afford. If you can do any or all of the above, you can minimize some costs imposed by home ownership. But why not go for the gold? The bank's gold, that is. They make big money on millions of "owners" faithfully paying principal and interest every month. What they aren't telling us is that the ratio that makes up the payment is heavily skewed toward interest for the first 2/3 of the life of your loan! It's only after you've been paying on the thing for 20 years that you finally begin to pay more in principal than interest--if you follow the bank's payment schedule. That's why pre-paying is such a boon. Your first year of principal payments probably amounts to a little over one month's mortgage payment. Pay 12 extra principal payments a year, and you've cut the bank out of a year's worth of interest. But that isn't all you can do. You should have as your goal the elimination of the mortgage payment itself.

Why? It's wasted money, for the most part. If you don't have the cash on hand to buy a house outright, you are stuck paying interest to some bank for a number of years, no matter how aggressively you prepay. Add in all the other attendant costs of owning a home, and it's owning, not renting, that seems to be "throwing away money." Better to rent an apartment or house, take advantage of not being responsible for the whole kit and caboodle, and pile up your cash. Here is where my zany title comes in. Some people take this idea so far as to live in VERY unconventional housing. I've heard of people living "off the grid" on forest land (yes, even a family that lives in a bus). My favorite knitting writer, Elizabeth Zimmermann, lived with her husband in a one-room schoolhouse in Wisconsin. An old boyfriend of mine was enamored of yurts, and I even read a news story once about a young single guy who was homeless on purpose (he pitched a tent every night and took showers at a gym).

When I think of my own family, I consider the fact that we've always been trailer people. It wasn't until the post-WWII period that we experienced any kind of prosperity, and even that is draining away. My uncle lives in a trailer. My dad and stepmom lived in an RV for over two years. But there's no shame in living in a trailer park if you have no debt and can meet your obligations every month while building up your savings. It only seems unpleasant because we've been caught up in the illusion of a higher standard of living--financed by debt.

If we are lucky enough to sell our current house and get out from under this mortgage, my goal is to never carry a mortgage again. Think about it. In the pie chart of where all your money goes, after taxes the mortgage is the biggest single expense in a homeowner's budget. Put another way, you could survive on a lot lower income if you didn't have to pay mortgage or rent. Hence, the basic home ownership survival plan is: rent a house or apartment as cheaply as you can. Practice your savings strategy and/or sit on your investments until you can afford to buy "something" in cash, even if it isn't the ideal house. The point is, it's paid for. As long as you have clear title, it's liveable, and not a money pit, you can always live in it, improve it, borrow against it, and eventually sell it when the market gets better. Then you go out and look for a better one. If you're sick of moving or are already an apartment dweller, consider buying a plot of land, and building your home in stages that you control and that you can afford. Lately I've settled on what is a soon-to-be glutted foreclosure market for our next real estate purchase.

This plan may not appeal to everyone. The big, expensive, brand-new home on the billboard will always sing a siren song to American hearts. But it is the safest way. If you've eliminated your mortgage payment, you've increased your income by 1/3. If the house gets you down at times, you can afford a trip to Rome. But jumping from one house to another, or worse, refinancing the same house over and over, is madness. You're throwing away money on interest and bank fees while decreasing your equity with every move. You may as well light your money on fire.

To sum up, you have to look at the total picture and take control. Just because "everyone else" is buying a house doesn't mean you should. Instead of "buying a house," plan on owning a house.

Another knitting bleg

2007-10-11T00:08:00.000-07:00

Phew! The mortgage article is 99% done! Yes, it took another 3 am nite to do it, but I am excited about sharing it with ya'll. Just need to sleep on it and maybe tweak the ending a bit.

HOWEVER...

This top-heavy (read: 27 1/2 wks pregnant) mom of 2 active little boys has been tapped to do a knitting class for the parish American Heritage Girls group. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut about my husband's sweater!

I've never taught a class before. I have some ideas, but if anyone has done this or knows of a quickie online resource for teaching tips, I'm all ears! I don't know how old the girls are...I was asked to just teach them to make something simple, like a scarf.

Thanks!

A Little Apology...

2007-10-09T00:46:00.000-07:00

I promised a series on wacky ways of saving money...with the next installment, concerning the high cost of housing, overdue by a week or more. This next post, while thoroughly mapped out in my notes, is likely to be delayed a little while longer, because:

1) It promises to be huge. That means a 3 am night for me, and so far I've been too tired.

2) It's a big deal to people and the most technical piece I've done so far. I don't want to screw it up.

3) Comment traffic has gone down...way down. It would be a shame to do all these lengthy posts and have no audience to give feedback. Then they would just get buried in the archives.

I'm also making changes to my template layout and adding more links. Check 'em out. Blog friends, please forgive me. I haven't had much time to give to just looking at and commenting on others' blogs. Lee CT and anonymous readers, thank you and keep checking back. It's people like you who make me feel like this is actually worth the effort!

Happiness is Ephemeral

2007-10-06T16:14:00.000-07:00

Since I often try to avoid the news, and emotion-jerking blogs (which, while they may be relevant, often just exist to raise the blood pressure of their readers--to no good purpose), I consider myself well-insulated against culturally-induced depression.

This feeling of mine was reinforced by a news segment that I accidentally caught on NBC Nightly News, which sought to inform viewers that women, on the whole, were unhappy more hours of the week than men (according to "a new study"). While the report may be true (or not), it failed to define happiness, or how such a definition of happiness might be expressed or measured. This leaves us with no useful information, while at the same time, making women feel a sense of unease...how happy am I? we ask when we hear such things. If we hear them often enough, a mild depression is ripe to set in.

However...unhappiness has its purposes.

I might be happy, for instance, at the thought of taking off with a couple of girlfriends for a free-wheeling trip to the Goodwill Outlet Store while DH takes care of the kids. However, on the way there I must pass a fortress-like strip mall wherein resides an abortion mill. This gets me thinking about all the ways we contrive to carry on with our lives despite unspeakable horrors happening under our very nose. These thoughts reduced the "hours of happiness" I may be likely to experience this week. But am I really better off--is the world really better off, had I striven to avoid these thoughts, or if they had not come into my head at all?

I'm happy when my husband comes back from a long trip and, naturally, I expect the kids to be just as angelic as they were when it was just the three of us, but they're often not. Therefore I am more unhappy about their behavior when he's home, which often tarnishes the joy I feel at my husband's company. This causes me to be more firm and consistent in how I enforce the rules (and gives my husband down-and-dirty lessons in parenting). Is this lack of happiness some great tragedy? Should I send an e-mail to Brian Williams?

I'm pretty happy with our family and our life and the direction it's taking...that is, until I get a phone call from a close family member who pitches some immoral scheme to me. And then get hung up on when I categorically refuse to go along with it. Now unhappiness surrounds me like a cloud. I can't stop thinking about it, or talking about it with my husband. My "hours of happiness" for next week are bound to be seriously reduced by the fallout from this situation. However, to acquiesce to such a scheme would have been not only a serious sin for me, but an act of grave uncharity to my erring loved one, who would have been allowed to persist in the delusion that he can get whatever he wants just by pulling enough strings.

News flash to NBC: Happiness isn't everything. Women may feel "unhappy" more hours of the week than men, but it is only because we care more about certain stuff than guys do, and the way we often express caring is through negative emotions...like feeling sad, angry, or depressed. But this doesn't mean that all we need is for the men in our lives to start doing dishes or send us off to the spa. We don't need more laws and legislation designed to "emancipate" us.

What we need to do is accept the unhappiness for what it is--an engine for change--and to pray and act accordingly. The world would be a better place. And that would make everybody happier.

What I'm Saying

2007-10-04T21:36:00.000-07:00

Mike Shedlock dishes out a dose of common-sense advice to his readers. What he's saying sounds remarkably like what I'm in the process of saying. Cut to the chase here.

A few excerpts:

"The best way to avoid drowning in debt is to not get into debt in the first place. Those who are in debt should attempt to get out of it as quick as they can. The way to do this is simple: Live within your means or better yet live below your means."

News flash...

"Just as the housing problem spread from subprime to Alt-A to prime, job losses are highly likely to spread from housing, to commercial real estate, to retail. To protect oneself from a loss of income, it is imperative to have actual cash savings in a money market, short term treasuries, or short term CDs. Those barely able to make home payments now and who have no cash savings, will be in serious jeopardy if they lose a job. Don't be one of them."

This finance guy even takes on grocery shopping...

"Food prices seem to be soaring. Get an electrically efficient freezer and buy what's on sale. Food can easily last three to six months or longer, if properly wrapped in plastic and/or freezer paper. My parents did this. Mom would buy what was on sale, dad would wrap it in freezer wrap and label and date the package. It seems to be a lost art."

Mish usually writes about more technical stuff, so I was amused to see him break into housewife mode. His readers regularly recommend stocking up on gold and ammo. But Mish is not that extreme. He also co-authors an investment newsletter that I happen to subscribe to.

Commercial Break: Charitable Giving

2007-10-02T01:19:00.001-07:00

It occurs to me, when I am in my hard-nosed housewife financial reporting mode, that I am not mentioning my faith very much. Those reading this blog may not be Catholic, but they may be Christians, or other religions, or simply people who are concerned about cancer or the homeless. And they might wonder: where does our charitable giving/tithing practice fit in with all the emphasis on saving and cutting the bottom line?

Part of the reason is because I am taking it for granted that the giving category is not a category that should be cut. Granted, it may shrink from time to time, but it should actually increase as your debt is paid off and your pile of savings starts to grow. There is no need to be pedantic as to the amount. The Catholic Church suggests that, out of a 10% tithe (I am assuming they mean 10% of your net take-home pay), you give 5% to your parish, 1% to the archdiocese, and the rest to the charities of your choice. But the point is that you give a consistent amount, and it should be enough that you "feel" it--remember the widow's mite.

But the actual numbers reveal that most Catholics, sadly, give far less. It's probably because they are feeling the squeeze from taxes, inflation, high housing costs, escalating costs of everything, the double-whammy of paying taxes for public schools while shelling out for private school, etc, etc. Then here comes the priest with another homily about stewardship or another capital campaign. "Sheesh!" they practically roll their eyes in frustration. "Does it ever end?"

I read a statistic today that needs reckoning with. If you are lucky enough to make $50,000 a year, you are in an elite club--the wealthiest 1% in the world! Makes all those parables warning about the fate of rich men hit home, eh? And yet, most people making this figure hardly resemble the rich man of last Sunday's Gospel, who ignored poor Lazarus during life and met his dismal fate in hell. And yet, the forces that keep us so mired in financial navel-gazing must surely be Satanic in origin: advertising, oppressive government taxation and unjust policies, the all-too-easy financing of the last several years. They contrive to make us feel poor, to ponder our checkbooks and shrinking bank balances, wondering if there will be enough for our seemingly endless needs, let alone our desires.

Is it justifiable to clean up our own financial house in order to save (and perhaps even invest)? Or is this just accumulation for its own sake? Would Jesus, suffering on the cross, approve of Bill Bonner, for instance, the founder of one of my favorite financial sites, The Daily Reckoning? After reading his account of spending the equivalent of $800 USD on a night of dinner and theatre while visiting with grown children, then "rousing the girls" to get them to Mass the next morning, I have to be amazed at his candor. He as much admits he's a Catholic by saying so, but he's never commented on the purpose of wealth, or the moral imperative it imposes. Perhaps he fears alienating his readership. But I am watching closely, and so is God.

There are examples of wealthy men in Scripture who are, nevertheless, right with God. We may all wish to be one of them, but we "can't serve both God and mammon." I experienced this dilemma while researching the right allocation mix for my husband's IRA. What right do I have to be trading stocks while other people are starving to death? I asked myself. We have an eighteen-inch tall statue of the Blessed Virgin in our bedroom now--and let me tell you, it's hard to face her sometimes. According to Blessed Mary of Agreda, Mary and Joseph gave one third of their income to the temple, one third to the poor, and lived on the remaining third. Mary lived in grinding poverty her entire life.

And yet, there is the example in Proverbs 31. This woman is my hero, and part of my untiring efforts to keep up my house and find new "efficient" ways to do things is inspired by her example. And yet, she is described as undertaking capital ventures. She makes and sells things. She looks over a field, buys it and plants a vineyard. There is the parable of the talents. The man who did nothing with the talent was punished severely by the master. And everything that we have, both material and non-material, should be considered a gift (a "talent") from the Master. And so we must do something with it.

Obviously, if we're in doubt, we must pray. And the chief part of our prayer should be thanksgiving, even if we have nothing. For God has seen fit to give us what we have, for the sake of our eternal souls. And then we must ask, "How can we be better stewards of the resources You have given us?" This is an excellent prayer for husband and wife to pray together. Then just keep praying it and try to be at peace until God points out some answers. Remember the cardinal virtues of prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. Read through one of the Gospels, prayerfully, passage by passage. Keep listening.

All good things come from God. High wages, money in a bank account, even stocks can all be used for the Lord. It's His, anyway. Just ask Him what He wants you to do with it. Same thing with debt. "God, I give it to you. What do you want me to do? Thank you. Help me learn. Help me be a steward of the resources You have given me."

I have an uncle who is deeply in debt. I keep urging him to be thankful, ask God for solutions, and to try to be at peace. We also discuss practical solutions to his problems, but it begins and ends with God. Even Job's riches couldn't save him.

Having said that, I don't think it's against God's will to get our financial house in order. We are being good stewards, is all. Getting ourselves out of debt and providing for reasonable financial needs gets our gaze off our own navels and lifts it back out to the world, where it should be. The difference is in the purposes for our wealth. Don't buy the big-screen TV just because you can afford it. Be ever-mindful of those who don't have as much. Wear out some holes in your socks before you just automatically buy more. Think about people who don't have shoes. Eat some TVP, even if you can afford prime rib. Cultivating poverty of spirit along with prudent money management will cushion some of the knee-jerk desire to spend the money as soon as you have it. Who knows? God might be asking you to help fund a local maternity home.

And keep a watch out for the "Lazarus" in your life.

Catholics must live their faith out loud, and yet they will never be able to do so if they are caught up in the getting-and-spending mode our economy urges on us. In the economic trough ahead of us, the squeeze is just going to get harder, and good jobs and low prices will be scarce. And yet, there will still be parishes to run, churches and schools to build, suffering people to succor. Our wealth is there in part to serve them. Who will give if we do not?

WW2: Earn less, get more

2007-09-28T16:06:00.000-07:00

Many people who take a hard look at their income/expense picture conclude that the solution is simple--just earn more. But as Amy D. explains early on in the Complete Tightwad Gazette, it's like trying to lose weight by exercise alone, without restricting calories. It takes twice as much work, not to mention time. People who try to earn more in their careers often have to spend more money and time to do so, whether it's achieving an advanced degree, or just working overtime. Some people try to squeeze in a home-based business on the side, but I know from experience that this can be a time-waster and a money-loser, if you're not extremely careful. Often the simplest solution for couples is to add more paychecks--hence the phenomenon of the wife wasting her time on low-paying service jobs.

Am I being pessimistic? There are, after all, lots of women with "good jobs," jobs that required a lot of investment on the front end, and seem to pay off in the short term. And, since I've heard "I need to work" so often, we need to examine the case of the more highly-paid Mrs. Let's say the wife has a moderate-paying job, like schoolteacher or nurse. I firmly believe (tho I have no charts to back this up) that in order for a woman to earn a high enough income to make it worth her while to be in the workforce, she must spend more hours in the workplace. Either it's because her skills confine her to office or service work (which may suck hours in exchage for a fixed salary or offer shift work for a low fixed hourly wage), or she finds herself funneled into public sector jobs, for which there is a fixed wage but more hours of actual work (such as schoolteacher). The one exception seems to be nursing--where a woman can go out, acquire her credentials, and then work a fixed number of hours for a fixed wage that is high enough and doesn't entail more work.

But there is a further cost to the woman's increased income productivity in the workplace. She now spends so many hours outside of the home, that she must "replace herself" and the things that she may have done in the home, with purchased goods and services. This goes above and beyond the cost of daycare and convenience food; the woman says to herself that she is working--therefore she can afford to buy things. And since wholesome family life is lacking, she'll hit the stores to try and replicate it. Ever been in beautifully decorated and furnished homes that stand empty all day? Or perhaps she splurges on twice-monthly maid service. On top of that, there are the children to truck here and there, and programs to put them in so that they don't go home to the empty house, and fees and supplies for those activities. Not to mention the enormous emotional strain that a "productive" wife puts on a marriage. Not only do husband and wife hardly see each other, nor are permitted to serve one another in tangible ways involving their home life, but they spend hundreds of hours a year in the company of co-workers of the opposite sex who may or may not seem more attractive or sympathetic as time goes by. Add the inevitable financial strain of increased expenses that the wife's career was originally supposed to prevent, and you have fertile ground for divorce--the biggest expense of all.

But it isn't my intent to debate the wife who works. Work if you will, only do so with eyes open to the consequences. The fact is, most of us can only increase our productivity up to a point. After you've reached a certain "balance point" (if you will) the IRS will come and take away the surplus. It's sad but true--our modern economy actually punishes increased productivity with increased taxes. The way our progressive income tax works, you get taxed at a lower rate for the first $15,000 of earned income. But each $5- $10,000 (depending on the tax code in a given year) you make beyond that is taxed at successively higher rates. A married couple filing jointly pools their income and gets a standard deduction that is not equal to twice the amount of standard deduction a single person is allowed to take (hence the term "marriage penalty"). Add the wife's income on top of the husband's income, subtract the deduction, and you can see why it generally doesn't pay to make the wife work. They are now in a higher tax bracket. Every bit of extra income the wife brings in is taxed at much higher rates than the husband's. Even if they have a number of itemized deductions (such as their mortgage, daycare, or child tax credits), these "shelters" still represent income that had to be paid out during the year for various expenses...expenses which tend to be higher when both spouses work (since they figure they can "afford" it). An income tax return is not the windfall it seems to be, either. Keep in mind that Medicare and Social Security/FICA taxes are equal to or greater than the federal income tax and you can't claim anything against those. Earn more income, and you'll pay more on them...without ever seeing a penny of it back. The higher tax cost of working wives (even if they are more highly paid), along with increased expenses, can thus erase the perceived gains.

Consider ALL the costs of being employed. Not only are there higher taxes to be paid, but the higher the income, the higher the cost of being employed tends to be. What do I mean? Just one example: let's say you have a long commute in order to get to your workplace. Do you have any idea of what the cost per mile of driving your car is? It's more than just the cost of gas. It's the total cost of every penny you've put into that car--including expected future repairs--divided by the total number of miles you expect to get out of it. You would have to add up your mileage during the year and multiply it by that figure to get the cost of your transportation. How much time do you spend commuting and how much would that time be worth if spent in a more productive way (like if you worked closer and could get there earlier)? Does your commute incur extra costs (lattes, occasional trips to McDonald's for breakfast, SIRIUS satellite radio, etc.)? If you're a woman, you're probably extremely sensitive to what the other women in the office are having, doing, and wearing. The higher your income, the more likely you are to spend more money on clothes, haircuts, handbags, and lunches. Most men are virtually required to carry cell phones anymore, to be perceived as viable job candidates. Increasingly, women and kids are packing cell phones as well. The bills are enormous. What about Internet use? The purchase of other personal electronics (pagers, PDA's, laptops) that seem to "go with" the image or requirements of being an upwardly mobile worker? My husband travels for work and goes through about $100 worth of luggage a year. Add it up.

All of this DOES NOT INCLUDE the cost of the degree track or vocational skills you had to acquire in order to go to work in the first place. Student debt must be factored in to the income a certain career track has to offer...and it only goes up in proportion to the expectation of higher income. Consider the mania over college education. Every child is now encouraged to make a college degree their ultimate goal, regardless of the child's individual potential and preference. But is this a good investment of time and money? How many of us pissed away our college years only to find ourselves hip-deep in student loans with no sense of purpose in life? The lucky ones who did manage to get good jobs and earn more find themselves in higher tax brackets and more expensive lifestyles. Did they really get ahead?

Hey, I'm not trying to rain on anybody's parade here. If you paid your dues and are now pulling down a substantial income and have absolutely no financial worries, kudoes to you. In good times, it makes sense to increase your productivity as much as opportunity and common sense afford. In bad times, people must often consider alternatives they never would have touched before. And times are bad. Median real wages for men and women have gone down for the last five years--and this was during a supposed "recovery." Now our stocks and bonds and houses are "deflating"--losing value--while food, gas, and health care costs continue to rise, as well as the cost of a college education. And all the cheap gewgaws from China are not enough to make up for it. My point is, if the college education doesn't pay, why pay a premium for it?

What you really need to consider is, how can you maximize the income you have to spend on actual LIFE, while minimizing the amount you spend on "cost" (taxes, housing, debt service, cost of employment). Instead of asking yourself how many square feet you can get in a house, or how new a vehicle you can purchase, look at the bottom line and ask, what do I want for my family? Do we want a high quality of life without financial pressures? Would we rather have mom at home, or working at the projects she finds most satisfying? If we think smaller in terms of material things, we can think larger in terms of having a fulfilling family life. Taking summer vacations (the inexpensive kind)...starting a garden...putting an addition on the house by doing it ouselves. Or just watching the leaves fall while the cookies are in the oven. Sometimes the things we enjoy the most are the ones that take more time than money. If you seek to maximize the use of time allocated to producing income, according to the skills and the wage that bring you the most gain with the least tax/debt liability, you can free up the maximum amount of time to spend on family, hobbies, church or civic work.

An inspiring example comes from the pages of the Economic Survival Manual. A working couple, upon toting up all the costs of being employed, promptly quit their jobs, and worked out a plan. Along with their two teenage sons, they each found a part-time job paying $5,000 a year. Since each of them was paying only the minimum in taxes, their disposable income was about the same as when mom and dad spent long hours at work and on stressful commutes. Plus each of them worked only a few months a year to earn his or her share of the family income. The rest was free time! This example comes from 1982, when getting health care coverage was less of an issue, but it's worth it to think outside of the box.

The bugaboo that keeps people from pursuing this plan, however, tends to be the high fixed cost of a mortgage. "Even if the costs are higher," they'll say. "We have to increase income to pay for the house."

We'll tackle that next.

NOTE: In wordy and detailed posts, I'm going to experiment a little with format. Here, I bolded the main idea in each (enormous) paragraph to help readers wade through. Let me know if you prefer it plain, or chopped up into smaller paragraphs, or what have you.

Wacky Way #1: Don't bother with a budget

2007-09-18T00:24:00.000-07:00

Every beginning finance book begins with having you make out a budget. But really, that is stupid advice. I tried!

For a year, I dutifilly sat down with our bank statement and laboriously added up individual check and debit card payments in about ten different categories in an effort to figure out the elusive budget. It didn't work--there were always incidental expenses, impulse buys, random fees and "miscellaneous money" (Who spent $73.47 on check number 2225??). Add to this the fact that when the paycheck comes in, it isn't always a constant number either. I attempted to average our income over a one-year period but that was also a laborious task...one that I would have to repeat year after year (assuming we still had it). And this is coming from a person whose aptitude test scores always registered "accountant" at the top. How is the not-too-keen-on-math person supposed to perform this feat? The answer: don't.

Here's what you do. You need to get the big picture on your finances, and Uncle Sam already forces you to do it. So dig up last year's tax return, and grab a Tupperware lid or something round and draw a big circle on a piece of scrap paper. Fold the paper in half so your lines match until you have some even-numbered amount of divisions in your circle. You start with your total amount of compensation on your W-2's (don't rely on the figure in box 1--add up all the little bonuses and benefits that are listed separately, because that list represents your total compensation). If your household depends on income from some other source, add that in. Don't worry about interest or dividends--just the income that you are counting on to come in on a monthly basis to pay the bills. This is the size of your pie. Write that amount across the top of the page.

Now start going through your deduction paperwork. It should tell you how much you've paid toward interest, principle, and taxes on your house (or you could just add up your rent, if you're lucky enough NOT to owe on a mortgage). Next, add up all the types of compensation on the W-2 that do not come to you in the form of money, because these represent money that you paid out through the company for various benefits that they administer for you (health care premiums, 401(k), etc). Then add up all the boxes of taxes that were taken out (don't forget state income tax and even sales tax). Get out your trusty calculator, figure the percentages, and draw them into your pie. You can see that these three categories already take a massive chunk out of your total take-home income. Don't get discouraged--we'll tackle these in later posts.

Next, add up your debt-service payments such as car loans, credit card bills, student loans, and any other debt that you pay a monthly interest payment on. If the payments differ from month to month, try to get an average and multiply by 12. Draw that one into your pie.

Now from here, you can take this exercise as far as you want--adding up your health care costs, charitable giving, food costs, utility costs, phone, whatever. The purpose of the exercise is to get you to see, of course, that what you are making on paper is far more than what you actually see in your bank account. So the next time you are feeling "rich" because you figure you make such-and-such and your house is worth such-and-such and you're tempted to splurge...just remember how small of a slice of that overall pie you are living on.

Your first goal, at the beginning of this money-management odyssey, is to get rid of all non-mortgage debt. To do that, you have to come up with extra money--and unless you are about to get a raise or big promotion (and assuming you don't want to have to send the Mrs. to work), you're going to have to reduce or eliminate some spending to free up money to pay off debt.

Do you see why budgets don't work? The moment you have a figure posted in your head, say $300 on food for the month, or $75 on a phone bill, you find yourself spending the whole amount, thinking you can "afford it"--without any incentive to examine the expense for more ways to save, substitute, or sacrifice. This is why governments may make "budgets," but they always overspend them.

Instead, aim for spending as little as possible. Try to find ways to keep cutting as the months go by. Monitoring your bank statements helps, as well as NOT pulling cash from the ATM. Cash tends to get frittered away, whereas every debit charge gets recorded on your monthly bank statement. Ruthlessly analyze this statement for at least six months, and slash extraneous expenses. This can be distressing at first, because unexamined spending tends to be loose indeed. But you will save far more this way, and will not be tempted to "go over," because you are always seeking the lowest possible cost. Once you've reached the level where you can't go any lower, you can note down the numbers if you like and call it a budget.

But don't get complacent.

The goal is to find money and re-direct it toward paying off debt. This will be easy at first, but gets harder as you go. Examine every utility and telecommunications bill that you get. Read insurance contracts and question charges that you don't understand. Shop loss-leader sales at the supermarkets and be sure to record prices in your notebook. Ask around for tips on saving money, and look for money-saving books and web sites. I only recommend The Tightwad Gazette because it is the most comprehensive re-education in frugality you can get for the money, and highly entertaining, too.

You might become obsessed with money for a little while, because you are embarking on a whole new lifestyle, but try to remain low-key about it. Comments like, "Hey, honey, when I mix your gourmet coffee grounds with half Folgers, we save 25 cents a cup!" may not go over too well. It's hard to convince the family that your goal is their eventual financial freedom when all they hear about is how wasteful they are with money. Just do what you can to work around the edges until the numbers finally begin to convert your husband. Then feed the kids on your vision of what debt-free life could look like. You could take trips. They could go to a horse-riding camp. If they would just give up their expensive sneaker obsession, it would be enough to pay for a family cell phone plan, or whatever ideas you can think of...

If you are lucky enough to have a small-ish debt or no debt at all, great! You can move on to the next phase of the plan that much faster. After all the non-mortgage debt is paid off, you will experience a surplus. Not only did you save money by cutting expenses, but now all that money that was going toward debt is freed up for your next financial goal--a six-month emergency savings cushion. "Great!" you say. "I didn't have any debt to begin with, so I didn't even have to cut expenses!"

STOP!!

You still need to cut your expenses as far as possible...not only does it become a fun challenge (when you're not stressed over debt), but you'll never be able to afford a six month cushion if you keep expenses at current levels. This is why people don't have an emergency fund--they figure they'd never be able to save that much. Plus, you'll still want the money for some other goals worth pursuing, so trust me on this one. Discipline yourself for one year or so and you'll soon find that saving and the tightwad mentality become second nature.

For some people, this is all too much. They would rather just re-finance or roll the debt onto a low-interest credit card, or tell the wife she "needs to contribute" with a low-paying service job. But what I hope you will eventually realize is that our life and our labor are valuable. That is our form of capital.

We may not own factories or natural resources or large tracts of land--we own our labor. And we housewives who depend upon our husbands' labor do not want to see it go to waste. Neither can we afford our own energy or interest in our family to get frittered away. For Catholics, this process is packed with great virtues like prudence and stewardship. Don't forget to pray for the help and resources you need. It might be a part-time job, for a while.

But don't lose sight of your ultimate goal, which is to be the God-centered family you always knew you should be.

Top Ten Wackiest Ways to Save Money

2007-09-14T00:24:00.000-07:00

Let's face it, finance can be a boring topic. You can plow through manual after manual purporting to give financial advice, especially to householders, and find (along with perhaps some interesting bits) the same budgeting worksheets and the same safe n' sane investment advice doled out over a generation. Considering how popular these books are, you'd think more people in America would be managing their bottom line better.

BUT THEY'RE NOT!

The real savings rate for US citizens is now -1.3%. It hasn't been this bad since the Depression. Which is pretty much what Amy D. sums up in the first few pages of The Tightwad Gazette, Book One.

For people who are dang near desperate for money-management advice (and don't want to fall asleep learning about it), the unconventional approach is worth a look. For instance, have you considered trying some of these offbeat ideas?

1. THROW YOUR BUDGET OUT THE WINDOW

2. EARN LESS

3. DUMPSTER DIVE

4. HIDE YOUR MONEY IN YOUR MATTRESS

5. LIVE IN A BUS

6. FLEE YOUR 401(K)

7. GIVE BIRTH AT HOME

8. EAT CAT FOOD

9. BUY "LOSER" STOCKS

10. FREQUENT PAWN SHOPS

Sound sensational? I hope so, because this post is an introduction to a series I've already mostly written, according to the subtitles above. Look for each new post with a lag time of 1-3 days to allow for editing (and possible teething). I'm serious about spewing out my new-found insights to anybody who feels like they might benefit from them...so stay tuned....

Price Book Blunder

2007-09-12T23:14:00.000-07:00

I don't consider myself a financial guru. In fact, I have been known to make dumb mistakes about very basic stuff. Take today. I have been touting the benefits of saving at the supermarket with the "price book," which is a little notebook in which you record the absolute lowest rock-bottom price at which you can get your groceries, unit cost/size, and whatever store or source you found it at.

Now, what I didn't tell you is that I've cheated a little bit and carried my price book around in my head. I pretty much buy the same stuff from the same 3 stores, so I didn't think it was worth the exercise. However, I always have my calculator to cut through any unit cost mumbo jumbo I run across on store shelves.

But I got burned today.

Trawling through the local Safeway looking for decent prices on stuff (and not finding squat except $2 a pound coupon cheese), I saw a special on buy-one-get-one-free 18 ct eggs. This is usually a no-brainer, so I start to check them and put them in the cart. Then I see the price is 5.19. Whoa! I think that sounds high, but I'm not really sure. You see, egg price displays surely have to be one of the seven wonders of the world when it comes to confusing people. I'd have to have the price book in front of me to tell me how much to pay per egg.

But since I don't, I whip out my trusty calculator, which tells me the sale eggs are 14 cents apiece. Knowing that sometimes sales can be misleading in that they don't actually give you the lowest unit price for the item, I start calculating the cost per egg on some of the other myriad size/price cartons. Finally I come up with one at 13 cents per egg. Oh well, I thought, this is the best I can get. Prices are going up. So I grab the 18 ct version of this size egg and head for the register. Whoops! Once I'm through I'm checking to see I got my coupon deal for the cheese and I see that I've paid $4.29 for 18 eggs!!

That's 23 cents per egg!!!!

How did this happen? I calculated 13 cents per egg for this size based on a sale price for a dozen egg carton--not the 18 egg carton. By buying the wrong size carton, I accidentally ended up paying full price for the eggs, when even the old buy-one-get-one-free deal would have been better. Of course I didn't realize this until after I'd gotten home and cracked two eggs into a batch of TVP-laced meatloaf. I don't even know if they let you take back something like eggs (I usually can't anyway, since it's impossible to run right back to the store when you've got two tired kiddos...and I hate making a spectacle of my tightwaddery to mystified store personnel--"No, there's nothing wrong with the eggs...I just paid too much for them...")

Of course, if I was a true tightwad (a la Amy Dacyzyn) I would have used two heaping tablespoons of soy flour + two tablespoons water in place of the eggs. So I have a long way to go. Upshot is, I learned an expensive lesson that cost me my savings on the coupon cheese and betrayed the limits of the "price book in my head" idea. The only comfort I get out of all this is the hope that some housewife somewhere will learn from my blunder.

Should the Mrs. get a job at Costco?

2007-09-03T23:56:00.000-07:00

Dear readers,

The following is a scenario I typed up to help out a friend. I hope it helps clarify the picture for a housewife who wants to "help out" with family finances and thinks that a part time service job might fit the bill. Think again:

"Let's say you work 30 hrs a wk at $8.00 at Costco (or a service job like it). You will be earning $240 a week, or $960 a month. However, there are several "hidden" expenses to a second income, especially a part-time service income. Is it worth it? Subtract:

-$144 federal taxes
-$48 state/local taxes or other withholding
-$180 for 3 meals/wk prepackaged or takeout (for your tired days)
-$50 extra tank of gas a month (assuming you work locally)
-$100 in Costco food and other "great deals" (c'mon, you know I'm right)

That leaves $438 left.

For your 120 hours a month, you're earning $3.65 an hour. At current household spending levels, it will probably just evaporate. Then it seems you're working for nothing. Running to stand still. Is it worth it? What if you:

Reduce your food bill by 1/3 using a price book and doing some (not all) scratch cooking? (1/3 of a $400/month food bill--if that sounds shocking, get out your bank statement and add up the shopping trips)
+$132

Examine the monthly services billed to your household for redundant/unneeded services. (Examples: phone/cell/internet/cable bills are enormous...do you really need all of it? Can anything be trimmed back or bundled with just the services you use? Do you really need voice mail when you have an answering machine? Do you need your garbage picked up every single week? Do you drive less than 3,000 miles a year--you could get a low-mileage discount on your insurance policy (worth $100/yr to us))
+$75

Reduce debt service payments by paying off high-interest balances or switching to a low-interest, no fee credit card (15% of $300/mo worth of pmts. You have to resolve to pay it off, don't add more debt!)
+$50

Examine monthly bank statement for "blown money" (that irresistible sale, those DVD's, trips to Starbucks, internet shopping. Did you really need it?
+$100

What about entertainment? What if you rented movies instead of going to the theater? Learned to make your own pizza? Subtracted one restaurant meal in a month?
+81

=$438/mo savings, the same amount you would have earned (net) from Costco.

You have this savings now every month to do with what you will. If you find new ways to save, the added wealth starts piling up every month, because once you figure out how to save, conserve, cut back, or substitute expenses, it is money in your pocket as long as you continue those habits ($500 X 12 months=$6,000 minimum tax-free income to your family for the year).

Some people resist measures like this because they think it will cause feelings of deprivation. To that I say, nothing makes me feel poorer than looking in my bank account and seeing only four digits, regardless of how much "stuff" there is around me. Remember that book about the millionaires next door? They shop clearance and don't waste money on things that you only use/experience once. But I know you are creative enough to find ways to save without lecturing everybody, saying "no" all the time and complaining about bills. By changing habits only slightly, you can cut back considerably. I've low-balled all these figures to prove a point, but I know you can do much better because you know your situation. If not, ask your husband to show you or start digging into your paperwork to find out. If you like where this is going, you can take the next step:

*See your household as a "home-based business" and yourself as a capable business manager.

*Continue monitoring bank statements and hidden spending habits that cost hundreds or thousands a year.

*Determine to make your household an engine of wealth by adopting a capital/net-worth mentality instead of an earn-to-spend consumer mentality.

*Inventory your husband's investments...get rid of time bombs! slash expense ratios!

*Plug money into Roth accounts...do you have an IRA?

If the problem is health care insurance, examine the policy you currently have. Does the company give you any choices? Our company offered a low-premium, high-deductible health plan that didn't seem too attractive until we had piled up some money in the bank. Even with hospital bills, we've racked up savings just on the premiums (and the plan is surprisingly generous once we pay the deductible). Even if you can't change plans, the extra savings can help make up the shortfall.

The point is, cut back and conserve on expenses that don't deliver. Reduce or pay off high-interest debt and make sure your investments are working for you, not just sitting there. Build retirement savings. Build a cash cushion. Have adequate insurance, but not too much (do you have life insurance?) Run financial "fire drills"--what would you do if hubby got laid off? If somebody got injured or really sick? What if the housing market tanks and our houses lose value? What if inflation causes prices to rise across the board?

Our success story...after buying this house we had more credit card debt than we had money in the bank. Now after four years we have a 6 month cash cushion and our net worth has quadrupled. We managed this on one income, with a little luck and a lot of discipline, which was mostly just a change in attitude and an awareness of where the money goes. It does work.

Husbands just want to see the bottom line. Unless you really want to trade 120 hours/mo for $3.65/hr, put these steps into action and prove to your husband that you are an efficient manager who can pull her own weight. You don't have to ask him to spend less or change his standard of living. And his enthusiasm will rise when he sees the money start to pile up in your bank account."

Will my advice be heeded? I don't know. So many people seem stuck in a consumer mentality that they are more willing to trade hundreds of hours of their precious time and labor for a pittance that will simply be melted off in trade for consumer junk. Even with families that aren't rabid spenders, the perceived need for extra income will mask the extra expenses that a working wife can bring.

Case in point: my friend Lisa, who went to work "part-time" to help out with family expenses has now increased her weekly hours to 36, the most she can work w/o pulling benefits. She looks and sounds tired, but she probably thinks she has to work this much because the bills just keep piling up. The incentive to save or cut back household expenses has probably given way to "tired days" and the conveniences or material rewards that make such wheel-spinning seem worthwhile. Give it a second look, please.

ROLL CALL! Where are my readers? Have I lost all five of you? I have lots more savings/economic/finance/investment articles in the pipeline thanks to reams of recent research and I am prepared to explain how it can benefit YOU! If you want to see more posts like the ones I have done recently, please comment as my e-mail is now checked daily and my brain is budgin.'

In the meantime, let's all repeat the new Catholic Housewife mantra--

"A frugal and industrious housewife is ALWAYS worth her keep (kids or no kids)."

Food price inflation confirmation

2007-08-30T01:33:00.000-07:00

Ah...I was so glad to see this, as it confirms everything my gut and my reading have been telling me. Food prices are on the rise, as reported in the Sacramento Bee and the Miami Herald and other major metros. The reasons?

"It's partly because of corn prices, driven up by congressional mandates for ethanol production, which have reduced the amount of corn available for animal feed. It's also because of tougher immigration enforcement and a late spring freeze, which have made farm laborers scarcer and damaged fruit and vegetable crops, respectively. And it's because of higher diesel fuel costs to run tractors and attractive foreign markets that take U.S. production."

Government meddling, expensive gas, and wacky weather. Get used to it--I don't think this trifecta is going away anytime soon. Wheat's going to go up, too...today I bought 55 lbs of flour.

Milk at $3 a gallon?

2007-07-30T23:35:00.001-07:00

I ran a search on the above phrase and didn't find anything, so here's a quick post about surviving price inflation in the grocery stores.

Most of us don't think of food as an expensive part of our budget. The mortgage, the phone bill, and especially the gas bill seem to be getting all of the attention lately (if you're lucky, and live in an area with a great selection of grocery stores, bakery thrift shops, outlet grocery stores, and produce markets, you have lots of options. Just watch for the sales and stock up.) However, if you go through your bank statement each month and add up all those trips to the store, you might find your food bill adding up to $200, $300, or more, depending on how many you have to feed and what your tastes are.

Is price inflation a reality? Even though you still may be able to find the same food for the same price, you should consider that most of the food we buy at the store arrives by truck. Trucks run on gas. Gas is $3 a gallon. Now milk is $3 a gallon (Congress has passed a farm subsidy bill that makes domestic corn too expensive to feed to cattle and hogs. What are they eating? Don't ask. Upshot is, meat's going to get expensive too.) The cheap food we find at the stores is more likely to have been imported from around the world than ever before. As transportation costs go up, so will the bottom line cost of our groceries.

As housewives, we cannot afford to be blase about this. Grocery costs, while not within our control, are nevertheless easier for us to manage than some other costs we have to pay every month. With a little patience and keen observation, you can save enough money at the store to offset other costs, such as the cost of fuel, where you can't control your consumption.

I can't blog endlessly about all the techniques, but I can tell you where I learned them. The Complete Tightwad Gazette is my money-management Bible, a series of newsletters written by a determined housewife in the midst of the bear markets of the early 90's. We could be headed there again, folks. Prepare thyselves. You can pick up this book for under twenty bucks and save thousands.

Or, if you prefer a quicker (albeit less complete) online resource, try Hillbilly Housewife. This link will take you straight to her page about powdered milk and from there you can browse. She has a great section on emergency menus and food budgets.

The stocking up part is important. Don't just buy what you need for the next week or two weeks, thinking you're going to be able to get the same prices several weeks or a month from now. Try to store up to at least three months worth of non-perishables. I discovered this when I walked into Wal-Mart (having been without milk for a week) and saw the sticker price. I bought $200 worth of groceries, but no milk. Crazy? No, just stocking up on the staples that I could still find at my accustomed prices. Luckily, another "saver" supermarket had a stock of powdered milk at the "old" price--less than $2 a gallon.

Take along a calculator because you can't always count on the "unit cost" listed on the label. This is especially true at Costco. We quit going there when I realized we spent more money on convenience foods and paperback books, and I could find my staples at the same prices or better on sale or at the discount market. It's difficult to overdo the pantry principle. My grandmother kept, until the end of her life, an enormous wall-to-wall closet full of packaged food she had purchased on sale, as well as a freezer in her garage similarly packed. I once read some advice from the 70's that one of the best ways to beat inflation was to keep a year's worth of food on hand. The 12-month investment gave a better return than the stock market at the time!

Not to be too much of a doom-and-gloomer, but today's economic indicators are far worse than they were in the seventies. That was three decades' worth of deficit spending ago. The US now owes so much money that we can never pay it back. No joking. You can't blame any one particular president or administration either (unless you want to blame Nixon for taking us off the gold standard). One administration takes from military spending and pours money into entitlements. The next administration sustains this level of spending and then pours more money back into the military. Meanwhile the Fed keeps cranking out greenbacks and selling them overseas to finance the debt, while manipulating interest rates to keep the markets going at home and the voters happy and feeling like they're getting richer. The result is an illusion, a bubble of "false wealth" that cannot be sustained. More details here.

And here.

And here.

My Conversion Story

2007-06-26T23:15:00.000-07:00

For awhile this has been a blog in search of a meaning. It's not merely a chronicle of my life as a stay-at-home, and it's not a real consistent reflection on the Church. For every urge I get to post a bunch of pics of my kids, I get another great idea for a long post about some spiritual insight I've had. So I feel stupid and post nothing. But some people get something out of this blog, apparently. So I won't just quit. But I don't have time to write right now. So I dug up this old piece, a speech I gave to the confirmation class a couple of years ago at our parish. I'll change some names to protect the innocent, but I finally feel like I've got nothing to hide. The personal facts I shared really affected my spiritual life and to take them all out would result in a much drier story.

***

Hi, my name is [caelids]. I am 29 years old and am married and have two little boys. Last year I received confirmation and first communion here at [Our Lady of Obligation].

By the time I went to college, I was an atheist, because I thought God had no right to tell me what to do. The people who are supposed to make the biggest impression on you--your parents--had totally failed me. My dad smoked pot and wanted my stepmother to agree to an open marriage. He never went to church or read the bible or prayed around us. But he claimed to be a Christian and he wanted us to believe in Jesus. What a hypocrite! I thought. Then when I actually read some of the Old Testament, it seemed so sexist and violent. I thought, I can't believe in a God like this.

I believed in love. I rejected "organized religion" and settled for having one boyfriend after another. They would love me. And sooner or later, one of them would be The One. Right? Well because of my dad's unstable lifestyle, my stepmother left him and my family support was gone. I had to quit college and go into the military. But here I would find a new life. I had always wanted something exciting to happen to me. I thought being in the military, going on a boat and leaving my old existence behind, I would finally figure myself out, and maybe even find true love.

Well, I had some good times. For once I--who had never been invited to a party in high school--had a bunch of buddies to go out drinking with and we saw some places. I had a couple of boyfriends. But we always broke up, and the heartache never got any better. I got to feeling worse and worse about myself. I thought nobody would ever love me enough to want to marry me. That's all I really wanted. But even though they said they would, nobody I dated ever offered me a ring. So when my married supervisor made a pass at me, I thought, "Who do you think you're saving yourself for now?" We started having a fling.

From the outside, my life looked perfect. I worked at my job, I was promoted pretty fast, looked and acted the part, had my own apartment, had a car, all that. But I had no close friends. I went home alone every night. I was depressed most of the time, felt worthless. I would examine myself in the mirror. Maybe I needed a new outfit. Maybe I should take a college class. Maybe--oh, who was I kidding? I drank some beer and went to sleep.

I dreamt that I was alone on this huge boat that was drifting off course. I was trying to handle the controls all by myself. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't run from the pilothouse down to the engine room and cook the meals and run out the lines and fight the fires all by myself. I was sinking. Then I realized that there was a captain on the boat, and he could steer the boat back on course, if I would only let him. I didn't want to call the captain "God" but I realized I had no choice. I admitted there was a God, and I was probably disobeying him. Next Sunday, I walked up the street to the Grace Lutheran Church and just stood inside the door, listening to the music. I started to cry. Somebody came out, and asked me what was wrong. I ended up sitting at a table with a bunch of kindergarteners gluing cotton balls to pictures of sheep. Boy, I have really hit bottom, I thought.

But that wasn't the bottom. The bottom was when I came down with some kind of infection a few weeks later. I couldn't go to the corpsman on the boat, so I went to the Planned Parenthood on [Beetle Hill] in [Santa Barbara]. I sat in the parking lot, crying. I was scared. What if I was pregnant? What if I had herpes? What if I had AIDS? What if I was going to die, and nobody cared? The guy I was screwing around with didn't care about me. The US government didn't care about my problems. My family was far away. But at least they cared about me. What the hell did I think I was doing?? What if all this stuff about finding myself and believing in myself and forging my own identity was just a load of crap? I dried my eyes, went inside and got some medicine for a yeast infection. Then I went home and spent a VERY quiet night.

When we moved up here to [Sweet Home], I tried a few churches on for size. I missed everyone back at my old Bible Church, but I felt sure I could find a new church where the people were just as nice and the teaching was just as solid. I mean, churchgoing people who loved Jesus all believed the same thing, right? I just needed to find the church that had the right "feel". I went to a little church that met at a school. This is it! I thought. This church had it all--the people, the Bible, and good teaching. I got DH to go a couple of times, but he started going to this Catholic church that met in a strip mall, and I wasn't interested in going to another Mass if he wouldn't go to my church too.

I knew DH was trying to learn his faith. I'd been told by some ex-Catholics that they weren't really "fed" in the Catholic church, but he seemed to have plenty of resources. He had a Bible, stacks of books, tapes, even a radio station, and he prayed the Rosary every night. He offered to share these with me, but I didn't want to know anything about the Catholic church--because I felt sure some of the information would be twisted somehow and I would get confused. But I did pick up enough to know that, logically, some of the things I had heard about the Catholic faith from my church couldn't be right. For example, the women at the Bible study said things like, "Catholics worship the shroud of Turin," and "The Catholics were responsible for the Salem witch trials." Our pastor said that being a Catholic was not Christian--it was the same as being a Muslim or a Buddhist. This seemed like it was going too far, and I wanted to defend my husband from these false statements.

Then one day an issue of This Rock magazine arrived at our house. Aha, I thought, now I'll read through and skewer these weak and false arguments. I read skeptically through most of the issue, making lots of notes in the margins, until I reached the conversion story. I stopped writing and just read it. It was about a woman who wanted unity of faith with her husband as badly as I did, who had worked for some of the luminaries in the evangelical community, but ended up being dissatisfied with their disagreement on fundamental issues. Then I remembered something. The year before, my best friend from the military had called me to tell me she was pregnant after having a one-night stand. I tried to talk her out of it, but she went through with the abortion. This same friend had always affirmed her status as a church-going Christian. I never understood her decision in light of her faith. But it seemed that Protestants and evangelicals disagreed on a lot of things, not just abortion. I'd received a magazine subscription of Christianity Today for a year, and each issue tried to celebrate a facet of Christian "diversity". But was that just another name for disagreement and division over what I thought were the "essentials"?

Through this period, I had a growing sense that the Protestant "position," as such, was in trouble--but I wasn't ready to chuck it entirely. OK, so maybe the Protestants could learn a thing or two from the Catholics, but that didn't mean the Protestants were entirely wrong and the Catholics were entirely right. It seemed to defy common sense, and human nature. I just couldn't conceive of a church that was guaranteed to be free from error. I thought that "real" Christianity must be somewhere out there, but we had just failed to grasp it yet, and these institutions were just the unhappy middle ground we were stuck with until finding out the truth in heaven. I settled in for a long wait. I still prayed my prayer for God to show us the truth, even if I was the one who was wrong.

One night I was watching TV and Dateline came on. It was about a religious cult that had ended in tragedy when a baby died under mysterious circumstances. But what struck me the most was hearing about how the cult had gotten its start. It seems that the patriarch of the group had been going to a non-denominational church very like the one I was going to. But this man had decided that the church wasn't teaching "the truth" and so he decided to start a "home church." He invited family and friends to join him, and the result was this closed-off group of people who all thought they were getting direct revelation from God. One of these revelations resulted in the baby slowly starving to death.

Horrified, I turned off the TV, sat down with a pen and notebook, and started to think. The Protestant scheme was bankrupt. It was unworkable because there was no authority, there was no guarantee of truth, and therefore nothing and no one to stop people from going in all different directions to find what they felt was "their" peculiar form of Christianity. The Bible alone cannot guarantee interpretation free from error. It only serves as a sop to each individual's conscience--because the reader ultimately sets himself up as his own Pope. Even if my pastor was right, I had no way of knowing. I would have to depend upon him for knowledge of faith and interpretation of Scripture, and if that was true, why should it be so preposterous to depend on the Pope for the same guidance?

I was in a hard position. My church was about to throw me a baby shower, and I was ten days from giving birth. I called up the pastor's wife and asked for a meeting. I wasn't just going to drop off the face of the earth. But I couldn't tell her everything. I simply said goodbye and to call everything off. I struggled with a new baby and no friends. I wasn't ready to go to the Catholic Church yet. Dean kept saying, "come home." But I told him it was like going behind enemy lines.

Instead, I sat nursing my baby and read books about the Church. I was skeptical at first, but everything made sense. The documentation, the Scripture references, the history, it was all there. I found myself wishing that Protestantism had so firm a foundation. That fall I enrolled in RCIA, and since then it has been like dominoes falling, my love for the Church.

I have such profound relief and peace that I can know the truth. And when people say that "the truth sets you free," they don't mean that it sets you free from rules, and responsibilities, and the need to be obedient. Rather, knowing the truth sets you free from the fear that you are not loved. The Church is a family. And, like the parents that sometimes disappoint, there are people in the Church who sometimes disappoint us. The Church isn't a sexy, slick, well-marketed fad. It is like a tarnished old bell, lying forlorn and forgotten in an old shop. The young ones come in and are fascinated by the bright and shiny, brittle things. But strike just once, and they break, whereas that old bell rings the louder.

You are coming here for confirmation. That is putting on the armor of God. In this sacrament, you will be given special graces, actual graces that are going to strengthen you for what--I promise--will be a fight to the finish.

***

When it rains, it pours...

2007-05-03T22:07:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone--just a quickie to let you know I am still here but with absolutely no time (well, only 15 minutes) to blog. Things I would love to write about but can't:

1. Tom's recent hospital stay of 5 days... UPSHOT: We finally got some answers.

2. My grandfather died WITH sacraments... UPSHOT: I am happy for him!

3. My (divorced) dad and mom's weird situation where he's living in an RV behind her house and he's kind of taking advantage of it but she's telling him everything is A-OK with her, meanwhile she tells me she is going to call the cops...UPSHOT: Could you guys try to be a LITTLE LESS DYSFUNCTIONAL???? Please?? I mean, it's only been 25 years!

4. This recent run of high temperatures on my NFP chart and my body's sudden refusal to have a period... UPSHOT: PANIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blogging may never return to normal, whatever that is. May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all...I sure wish it was with me!

My Preschool Dilemma

2007-04-09T21:37:00.000-07:00

Dear friends,

I need your help. I know you are all faithful Catholics, and many of you homeschool. I need to know whether I should send my 3-year old to preschool or if I can get by at home, supplemented with some "social" activities. Briefly I'll list the pros and cons as I see them...however I am not locked into one or another mindset just yet:

PRESCHOOL

Pros:

1. We have a really good, orthodox Catholic preschool program we can send him to.

2. The program is raved about by all the young moms at our parish whose children attend.

3. Preschool seems to offer children an "edge"--they're ready to sit, to listen, and to behave by the time they go to full-day school.

Cons:

1. The school is across town--two days a week I'd have to drive an hour and a half with my littlest one and not much turnaround in between.

2. The program, while affordable for us, is not cheap (volunteer time required, and no child care for my littlest one).

3. It seems terribly regimented--uniforms required. I worry that schools (even Catholic ones) are focused more on turning out cookie-cutter citizens who won't disrupt the class, rather than developing each child's talents.

HOMESCHOOL

Pros:

1. Saves time--I can fit activities for him around my schedule...no drive, no volunteer hours.

2. Good trial run for "real" homeschooling. I mean, if I screw up preschool, I'll know I'm in trouble.

3. Activities are available as "socialization" situations--library and recreation center are close by and inexpensive.

Cons:

1. My son loves being around other children and seems to need structure.

2. I can't duplicate the outstanding religious formation available at the school.

3. I don't feel that teaching comes naturally to me.

I need to make a decision on this, because the classes are small and they are enrolling now. If I don't jump for it in the next week or so, we could miss the boat. Is it worth it?

Progressive #25614 Road Test

2007-03-24T21:38:00.000-07:00

Trying to boil down a vacuum's performance to its essentials is hard--you want to praise the thing for what it does well, while realizing that no machine--even a three-hundred dollar one praised by Consumer Reports--is perfect. My first vacuuming experience with the Kenmore Progressive Canister Vac had me resolved on returning it to the store. It skittered and wandered over a large wool area rug, picking up some stuff after several tries but leaving a lot behind. Strike one.

Then I turned the agitator brush off (simple slide-and-click thumb switch on the handle) and just used the vacuum's suction to vacuum the hardwood floors. Performance (on XLO setting) was better, but I still felt like I was driving around nothing more than a very expensive broom. Performance on area rugs was OK...I felt it was better with the old upright. Plus, the machine's ergonomic features--everything swivelling and turning and whirling with each movement--were hard to get used to. I was used to muscling the machine wherever I wanted to go, even kicking it to give it a sort of "boost." This new machine required much less pressure from the wrist--the wand was very light and I liked the telescoping feature (although it was far less rigid than I would have preferred--the vacuum "head" wiggles a little bit and the telescoping wand wiggles, too). I had expected a Kenmore product to be more tank-like, so the delicacy of this vacuum's movements and controls surprised me.

It was a little difficult to get used to dragging the canister behind me. It always seemed on an inconvenient side, forcing me to hold the hose in front of me, which is harder on the back. You have to get used to working your way around a room, not starting in the center, doing one bit, pulling back and moving to the next. All these things I thought I could get used to in time, but the carpet-cleaning capability seemed to be lacking.

Then I tried out the attachments. Whoa! This thing really can suck. The PowerMate Jr. is a diminutive version of the full-sized carpet cleaning head, complete with powered agitator. When I tried this thing on the stairs, it pulled up the carpet with each stroke. The suction appeared to be greater when I relaxed my arm pressure and let the machine do the work. The way that the handle is shaped makes this a very comfortable task--not like using the attachments on an upright, where you're just grasping the hose with the attachment stuck onto the end of it. Everything is engineered to rest at the angle you'd be most likely to want it to lie. And the canister itself has a little rubber grippie that lets you move it up the stairs with you and it just hangs out there and doesn't slip off. That was sheer genius--no need for 17-foot hoses or machines tipping over or having to muscle the whole machine across each step!

I used all the other attachments with roaring good success. So what was wrong with the actual carpet attachment, the big PowerMate? I took the thing upstairs and re-attached the PowerMate. This time I lowered the height setting from medium to low. I guess I had been babying the thing a little too much, because this time the PowerMate grabbed the pile and gave a good resistance, showing it was actually sucking. And the machine was easier to handle on wall-to-wall carpet than it was on hardwood floors or area rugs. The ergonomics weren't so wiggly with the added resistance. Encouraged, I took it back downstairs and used the low setting on my wool rug. While still a little missish on the forward stroke, the PowerMate grabbed that ground-down wool pile and actually lifted it on the return stroke, sucking up any debris and dust in its wake. Problem solved.

I love this machine, now that I actually understand it a bit better. I think I might actually like it more for wall-to-wall carpet than for hardwoods (which I'd just as soon sweep) but having the dirt go up into the vacuum rather than into the air is a plus for people with allergies. I can't wait to try this thing on the vans. This machine has imperfections...the little plastic doors on the canister look like they could break if treated roughly. The "floor" attachment (different than the PowerMate or PowerMate Jr.) seems a little flimsy and wiggles a bit. The wheels on the PowerMate are a little hard to push and the wheels on the vacuum itself seem kind of cheap (the retractable cord is a great feature, tho). The machine uses a rather small bag which can get expensive if you insist on using the true HEPA cloth bags (which are $8 for 2) and there are also two filters you have to keep an eye on. But for the price point, I'd argue that Sears didn't skimp on the things that count--solid overall components, strong motor, ease of use and true HEPA filtration. I didn't sneeze once, and that's a bloody miracle.

Toilet Tip

2007-03-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

This may fall under the category of Too Obvious to Mention, but I've finally found THE WAY to clean a toilet without having to do something disgusting twice.

Typically, you find lurking behind the average toilet a flimsy plastic wand with flattened bristles. This is what you are supposed to use to restore a be-ringed and be-pooped and be-smattered toilet to its pristine porcelain...er, pristineness (hey, it's late). But what really happens is that you take this thing in your bare hand and gingerly swirl it around the bowl to knock down the grossest stuff (while dodging germy splash-back), and end up leaving not only a ring, but a hard yellow crust in the crevices and this black stuff up under the rim. Then you are forced to find some other way to clean the toilet and thus end up engaging in a chore far more often than you should really have to.

Now despite the enormous amount of effort put into discovering new and less-repugnant ways to do this chore using ever-more noxious chemicals and ever-more expensive supplies (disposable toilet scrubbing wands?), I've found that the simplest and best method is the old-fashioned one. Put on a pair of rubber gloves, get down and personal with that toilet, and scrub the heck out of it. Rubber gloves help enormously in doing your housecleaning--they add an element of objectivity and reduce the gross-out factor, as well as saving your hands.

You must use a heavy-duty scrubbing pad to get the scale off, and my favorite is the grey 3M floor stripper pad you can find at your home improvement store. We used these in the military both to scrub black gunky grease off the grill and to strip the floors of old wax (not at the same time). The first few times will require more elbow grease, but as you begin to see those crevices turn white and shiny again, you will experience house-cleaning nirvana, knowing that you have the cleanest toilets on the block (maybe in the city). Follow up with a frequent antibacterial wipedown and you have toilets that a toddler could eat from.

Well, OK, they don't eat from them--but I have caught them chewing on the edges.

More About Vacuums

2007-03-22T13:43:00.000-07:00

In a world of vomit, diarrhea, and endless loads of laundry...how does one relax? I ask because, after two hectic days during which my husband was home (and I was not exactly on my best behavior), while driving him to the airport, I asked him if there was anything I could do for him while he was gone. "Try to relax," he said. Humph, I thought. Here was a man who could probably hit the couch for a snooze during the onset of Armageddon, and he wants me to relax? OK. So what are the two things I haven't done for awhile? Oh yeah, pray and blog. Who knew?

So that's why I'm here to share with you some info from the vacuum-research front. This is big business, folks. My vacuum background is pretty scarce: you inherit some decrepit old thing from an old roommate or boyfriend or grandmother, ride it hard and put it away wet--no user's manual, no spare parts, and you don't even know what type of bag it uses since you never change it. But then one day it quits. And then you realize how much gunk is building up on the floor, so you hit Amazon and look for the vacuum that everybody seems to like.

Trouble is, human nature is subjective. My first instinct was to go for the Dyson. That's when sticker shock hit me. $500 for a vacuum! There seems to be a couple schools of thought on vacuum buying: the first school goes to Wal-Mart or Freddy's and buys what looks cool and is on sale--this kind of demand is what has been fueling soaring upright bagless sales. Day-Glo colors, space-age plastics, and look--! No bag. That must make things easier, right? Plus, these machines are cheap, cheap, cheap. Comparatively speaking.

The second school of thought ponders deeply and, checking the balance in their bank account (reasoning that you get what you pay for), splurges on a Dyson or a Miele or even--a Kirby (though I am convinced that people who buy Kirby vacuums just haven't done that much shopping around). However, after reading at least half of the 302 reviews of the Dyson DC07 on Amazon, one quickly sees a pattern: three or four satisfied customers followed by one or two with busted parts and spotty, expensive service options. I learned that it is not only what you buy--half the battle is who you buy it from and under what service agreement/return policy. I don't care if it is the best vacuum in the world...it is eventually going to need service, and you are not going to like throwing a two- or three- hundred dollar piece of plastic on the junk pile. While there are many wonderful shopping options online, and deep discounts to be had, I became convinced that to buy a vacuum from an online vendor was a mistake.

Then I pulled back from the individual model search (which quickly became confusing) and looked for some general articles about vacuums. Why are bagless vacuums so popular when they seem to break so often? Is there any reason to go with a bagged model anymore? What's best for allergy sufferers? Why do I keep seeing references to canister vacuums (people still use those?)?

It didn't take long to realize that bagged was better for allergies than bagless (why would you want to look at and handle the gunk when the bag was a cleaner, more hygienic way to trap it in the first place?). Canister-type vacuums are better for people who want to vacuum their hardwood and tile floors without eating their area rugs. And a brick-and-mortar store with an iron-clad extended service agreement, that you could find in any sizable town, was a definite plus. This narrowed the options considerably.

Finally, I did the one thing I should have done at the outset: I typed "#1 rated canister vacuum" into the search engine, and guess what came up: the Kenmore Progressive Canister Vacuum, model #25614, rated #1 by Consumer Reports (as of last summer). The model is currently on internet special for $279.99. The 5-year extended service warranty is seventy bucks, which brings the price back to retail. And the cool thing was that I could buy it online, then drive down to my local Sears the next day and pick up my vacuum.

So now that my new vacuum is sitting here beside me in its box (wonder of wonders, I've just been too busy to use it!), I wondered what to do with the old one, which didn't really break like in the hypothetical example, it's just Dean's 10+ year old Hoover Futura from the Navy Exchange which still sucks and hasn't croaked yet. I think I'll hang on to it, and just have it serviced. "It's lasted pretty well," Dean said when I commented on this venerable vacuum. "But then," I mused. "It probably hasn't seen much use." Forget what happened after that.

The Dirt on Kirby

2007-03-19T16:14:00.000-07:00

Continuing my series (as it seems to be morphing into) on door-to-door salesmen and telemarketers...my latest encounter has been with the Kirby guys. Now you know my heart, gang. I don't want to slam the door in these people's faces--I want to be the best Christian and Catholic I can be to them. We even had a celtic cross on our front doorstep ($10 at Lowe's) until Carl broke it.

This was our second round with Kirby salespeople. The first time, we took the bait and sat patiently through a 1 1/2 hour demo, and were very impressed with the machine--until they showed us a payment plan for $2,000!! Trying to get these people out of your house once they turn on the hard sell is hard! Why did I let them in this time? Well...to tell you the truth, my uncle has fallen on some hard times and his latest crummy job is being a window "demonstrator" in K-mart, trying to get people to sign up for their "contest" which is really an invitation to a sales pitch for...you guessed it--windows. I'm sorta feeling sorry for anybody who has to resort to sales to make money for their family.

So when the guy hears my reasons for turning him away, he turns on the sympathy mode..."Ah, c'mon, I've got these new kids that just need some training...couldn't sell chocolate cake to a fat kid...and my supervisor'll give me $50 if I can just clean your stairs." AARRGGHH!! Why do I always fall for that one? So I give in, and they go away. Meanwhile, I'm thinking about Tom's allergies and my own interminable research process on buying a new vacuum. "Maybe I'll hear them out and check out their product for allergies." But I wanted to see what the internet had to say, and so jumped online and checked out this article from Wikipedia (which continues to impress me as a general source of unbiased information).

The bottom line, I learned after reading the article, is that while Kirby makes a good product, it's way overpriced, their sales tactics are questionable at best and unscrupulous at worst, and they all do it THE SAME WAY. The article gave a devastating blow-by-blow rundown on the typical Kirby sales demonstration that, while effective, seems rather smarmy when you've reading about it dispassionately and you're not the one involved. They appeal to scare and smear tactics and ultimately try to close the deal at the highest possible purchase price, or get you to sign up for an outrageously expensive payment plan. I hit the print button just as the knock came at my door.

They were practicall pushing the box into the house when I said, "Hold on a minute, guys. I want you to have this information and know why it is that I can't do business with a company that uses tactics like this."

KIRBY GUY: What do you mean?

ME (turning back to the printer): You should really read it because a lot of it concerns the sales force.

KIRBY GUY (confers with young saleskid):.......

ME (I kept turning away to check progress on the print job): There's also some interesting history...of complaints.

KIRBY GUY:........

ME (handing them the printout): Plus, there's no way I'm going to spend $1200 bucks on something that only comes with a 3-year limited warranty.

KIRBY GUY (looking hurt): It's a lifetime warranty.

ME (closing door): Goodbye.

As I returned to the dishes, I was tempted to feel proud of myself, but then I thought about my uncle again. That guy was probably trying to feed a family. And it's a hard life for many out there, these days. So I'm not proud about the way I behaved. But I do think it's justified to refuse to deal with an organization if you have a reason to believe that they are dishonest, use unscrupulous tactics, or support immoral organizations (like Planned Parenthood). So good luck out there and I'm sure I'll have another doorknocker update soon.

P.S. I did finally purchase the Kenmore Progressive Canister Vacuum from the Sears web site. It is rated #1 by Consumer Reports for best value and performance for the price. See consumersearch.com for details.

And now...time for something...fun.

2007-03-15T20:57:00.000-07:00

"You are most like Frodo. You're very friendly, and you have a great personality. Although you like to have fun, you can also be pretty serious at times. It's pretty hard to get you mad, but once you're mad...everybody better look out! Keep that temper under control and realize that you're better off than you may think."

OK...I fail to see how liking the color blue and being a nerd in high school translates to this. But then maybe it's because I didn't pay much attention in Psych 101. The funny thing is, this personality description is pretty much on target.

Around here we have been having a LOTR geek-fest every weekend because there's not much else worth watching and the kids don't think my Jane Austen movies are that interesting. Carl is really into it. He says, "Wanna watch bad monkey? Wanna watch man-with-the-sword?" (Gollum is the bad monkey). He also said "Trees are made out of wood" today. Who says these kids don't learn anything from PBS?

I think I enjoy these movies so much because now that I am a Catholic, I can perceive Tolkien's metaphor more fully. When we find ourselves in the trenches, slogging away at some task or trial, we are like Frodo and Sam, carrying the bane of self, while trying not to use it, for the purpose of destroying it. And when we offer our sufferings for souls, we ride to their rescue--as it were--like the Rohirrim. The elves, like the saints, help us with their gifts and their prayers, but it is we who must go into battle with the hordes of deceived, weak, and ignorant souls...not to destroy them but to save. To win back the land for the king.

There. Who says you can't learn anything from watching TV?

TAKE THE TEST.

All I want for Christmas is my new knitting needle set, honey...

2007-03-12T20:42:00.000-07:00

OK, so I'm jumping the gun a little. But if I ever went back to work, I'd love to be working for Knit Picks. They got started up a few years ago--local outfit, based right here in Vancouver, Washington--offering premium quality yarn at pretty much rock-bottom prices. This is because the owner, Kelley Petkun, goes wherever the animals are and buys direct. They must keep their overhead pretty low, because the office I saw today was small and tucked into the back of a larger building...but you'd never know it from their catalogue, web site, and product line.

Part of what makes this company unique is that they're not just a middleman--selling a plethora of yarns, needles, and supplies culled from all over and taking their cut. I would call them the "Trader Joe's" of knitting. Kelley searches out the yarns herself and specifies how each is to be made up. Then they get the Knit Picks name.

The most exciting product they've come out with in the last year is a set of interchangeable needles. But unlike the interchangeable sets out on the market, Knit Picks' set is quality stuff. These needles aren't plastic--they're the smooth metallic nickel needles that you see AddiTurbo selling for $12 a pair. And they come with 2 different lengths of cable, complete with end caps (meaning that you can use them circular or straight). AND they give you, like, nine sizes. And a case. Get out your calculator and start multiplying and you get dozens of variations of needles, all in one set. What would you expect to pay for this set in a retail knitting store? $100? $120? HA!! Thanks to their low overhead and direct-to-the-buyer concept, this set comes in for the very housewife-friendly price of SIXTY BUCKS. Those other interchangeable (plastic) sets sell for at least fifty. And they don't have the quality, or utility, of Knit Picks Options needles.

Oh, great, now I sound like an ad. I'm sure Tina Birch, the VP that I talked to today, was fortified by my enthusiasm. I couldn't stop praising their product. We sat in her office (with the kids in their double stroller parked alongside) and she asked me questions about the current Options set and some design changes they were considering. Seeing as how I don't actually own the set, I was working off the memory of the set that I sent to my mother last Christmas (that I couldn't help, um, peeking at). They are going to improve it (like that was possible) and keep it AT THE SAME PRICE.

Then she showed me some of the new products. O-ooh. I won't tell you exactly...but for a little higher price, they are taking the Options set way upscale. I am totally hanging on to my gift certificate until this new set comes out next fall! Then she showed me some double-pointed needles that had been given the same treatment. This is the perfect example of what sets this company apart from the rest. They are selling these double-points in SETS OF SIX so the customer isn't TOTALLY SCREWED if one of the needles gets sat upon or chewed by the cat. They might be a couple bucks more, but compared with the plain jane bamboo needles in the store (where you only get four), this shows quality, innovation, and care for the customer that you just don't see in the knitting world.

She did ask me if I read any knitting blogs. It occurred to me that I had not, so here's my bleg--those of you knitters charitable enough to take the time to read me, please leave your favorite knitting blogs and books in the combox so I know where to get started.

In conclusion, I just have to say that in a knitting industry that is become more boutique-y and out of reach of the "average" knitter, Knit Picks saves the day, offering you quality AND quantity--and excellent customer relations, I might add.

I get to be in a focus group!

2007-03-08T20:28:00.000-08:00

Not to make anyone, er, jealous or anything, but I am excited...I've been invited to be part of a focus group for my favorite knitting people, Knit Picks. The company is based here in Vancouver, WA--so lucky me gets to trot on down to their office (which is, like, 1.5 miles away from my house) to check out new products and give my opinion. Don't ask me how I got invited. I probably only got their first catalogue because we're in the city limits. But I feel like one of the privileged few who gets to go to a movie premiere or something (shows you how much I get out now)!

Of course I'll have to bring (or wear) my knitting "credentials"--the one sweater I have actually completed using Knit Picks wool and my work-in-progress 16th century knitted wool stockings, also using their stuff. The excitement probably lies in seeing their latest products, which are always rather innovative, quality stuff--and at prices that tightwad knitters don't have to feel guilty about. The $25 gift credit doesn't hurt either.

I'm supposed to go on Monday, so I'll blog about it and let everyone know how it went!

Late Night Lenten Meditation

2007-03-06T23:09:00.000-08:00

First, let's get one thing straight. I should be sleeping. I should be praying. I should be doing pushups. But here we are. I confess I am so confused now about writing, and especially about writing about spiritual things, that I asked the Lord to interrupt me if He does not want me to write this.

The spiritual reading du jour is Story of a Soul, which we are reading at our ladies' study group at the church. St. Therese, while famous for her "little way," nonetheless admits to "immense desires," including the desire for martyrdom--even all the torments of the saints put together.

Here's where she starts to lose me. She tells us that she is so little and weak all the time, so how could she wish for things that even the strongest constitution would recoil at? I wondered at this while I was in the shower, with hot water cascading all about me (while reminding myself how much Therese herself suffered from the cold and damp at the convent)--at how spiritually bankrupt I must be that I could not even force myself to take a cold shower, let alone endure any torture or persecution voluntarily. How many luxuries have we grown used to in our daily lives, from having hot water on demand to warm sheets to plenty of interesting food to eat and the freedom to shut the world out in our own warm homes? I do not mean this to be a simple lookie-what-we-take-for-granted homilette, however. Bear with me.

From this I moved to thinking about the good things Therese had in her life that I do not have. She called the desire for martyrdom a "consolation" that was sometimes given to little souls like hers, but if a soul were not to receive this consolation she called it an even greater grace. I concluded that I definitely have not received this grace. Score 1 for Therese. Next, I considered her home life, the devout faith of her father and mother, and the support and encouragement she received from her sisters. I definitely do not have that. In fact, after considering all her spiritual insights and the great advancement in holiness she achieved at Carmel, the realization hit me that, even if I offered to change places with little Therese--to offer her my flannel sheets, wool sweaters,and cups of hot chocolate--she would not do it. In fact, in her magnanimity, she would probably call my attention to the several martyrdoms I am experiencing right now--which, while not martyrdoms of the flesh, are nonetheless sources of very great suffering not only to me but to many people who live in this modern age and this materialistic society. These martyrdoms have the great advantage of being all but invisible.

1. Living in a society that does not care about religion. This martyrdom manifests itself in a myriad of frustrations for the good Catholic who must suffer attacks against the Church, marginalization in politics, and having to pay extra to educate his children, among other things.

2. Estrangement from family. The scourge of divorce has robbed millions of the stability and emotional security of having intact families as the basis for society. As citizens in a society becoming ever more individualized, it is common to feel only indifference at the plight of even family members struggling to survive. "I did it, why can't they?" we ask, not realizing that God created families to help do for those who cannot do for themselves. Without families, the individual is subject to the tender mercies of the state.

And, more personally:

3. Isolation. Being that my husband must travel long distances to work, I find myself alone with the children almost constantly.

4. Having a sick child. Caring for him and anxiety about his condition. Doctor visits, hospital bills, special diets.

5. Temptations to discouragement and despair. It's all around us, the little voices that tell us that we're no good, we're worth nothing, all our faith and our good efforts to change society are in vain, the resurrection is a hoax, the Church is power trippin.'

6. Temptations to immorality, impurity, and pride. Don't ask me how Peter Pan can tempt one to thoughts of impurity. Just don't ask. I threw the book in the trash. Our culture is sick, sick, sick.

Look around at your life, and I'm sure you'll find a few of your own. I actually rejoiced when I realized that God had given me my own sufferings, tailor-made for me, and that so long as I handed them all back to Him in joy and love and gratitude, I could profit from them just as much as from any physical austerity. Indeed, we can rejoice to let God choose the martyrdoms, since the heavenly Surgeon knows just where to put the lance, where the infection is deepest. He does not do so out of anger (even though we have no cause to refuse His just chastisements), but out of love, since out of our sufferings comes the love that He thirsts for, the love that only we can give.

Jesus thirsts for your love. He has given you the crosses that you must bear, knowing that He stands beside you to shoulder the balance of the burden for you...because He loves you, because He so greatly desires the love that only you can give Him. "Love and cause to be loved the Love that is not loved."

Now I can go to bed.

Re-Inspiration

2007-02-20T20:11:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Amy Caroline for continuing to blog! I love your new blog and posts, and am glad to see you decided to keep blogging. I guess I am too, for now. And your homemaking meme was the perfect opportunity to stoppa me foot-draggin' and get something up. So here goes.

Aprons: Yes! I finally made one after I kept soiling my nice new Ross skirts day after day. I made it out of a tan jumper I got from the Goodwill--just slice a chunk out of the back, make ties, and hem (easy enough even for a sewing moron like me). Pockets a must.

Favorite thing to bake: Bread. Yes, it's a little fussy (like the other day when dh preheated the oven--with the dishcloth-covered dough in it--without looking and almost set the house afire!) It's the most satisfying product when everything goes right and we practically live on it. Try white. It's amazing.

Clothesline: No. We have a wooden drying rack I sometimes use, but usually we just use the dryer.

Donuts (have I ever made them): Yeah, but they never seem to be as good as the yummy goo-covered fat pills at the grocery store. Recipes welcome.

One homemaking thing you do every day: Dishes. I have made my peace with dishes. Oddly enough, the dishwasher had to break before I could really learn to enjoy this task. Now it's like my morning meditation. And I want to get prettier dishes, because they turn out so nice and clean and never chip.

Freezer--separate deep freeze? I wish. Right now I am making do with a rather capacious side-by-side. I never thought the freezer part was that big, then we shopped for a new fridge and they just don't make the freezers big enough.

Garbage disposal: Yes. Although I have learned to live without one. Basically whatever doesn't go down the grate you pick out. Simple, cheap, and nothing to break!

Favorite homemaking resource: HOOO-boy. Homeliving Helper is my most recent discovery. Also an honorable mention to the Hillbilly Housewife.

Ironing: Love it. If I have the time to iron a couple of Dean's or my shirts and especially my apron, that's a sign that my homemaking is a success and things are getting done. BTW, ironing a couple of shirts is no big deal. In the military, they make you iron everything, so to me it's nostalgic (well, kinda).

Junk drawer: Work-in-progress. Tightwads must be careful to never toss a piece of junk. Each time I do it, I conceive a use for it later that day. My newest favorite location for junk is The Junk Tower, a plastic thingy full of drawers that rolls around and only takes up one square foot. Each drawer has a different type of junk. And boy it helps getting that stuff organized.

Kitchen, design and decorating. Ah, the joy of remodeling. Our kitchen is almost finished, after having spent an obscene amount of money on new countertops, sink, faucet, floor, paint. Didn't have to redo cabinets, hubby put up a couple of shelves, on which my shiny new set of cookware is displayed. Too bad we're selling the house. I am finally enjoying myself in there.

Love: My favorite part of homemaking. Hmmm. I love having the freedom to manage my time and space for the sake of my family's peace and comfort. There is no peace out in the world. And if I had a job, there would be no peace in the house. The world would come right in with schedules, stress, endless outside obligations. My head would be a mess, and that would rub right off on my family. We do not live to work; we work to live. We have to work to earn enough for our needs, but beyond that we sacrifice our peace. If a woman stays home she has the chance to make the house a home--a place of refuge, an oasis of contentment, a space in which her family can feel that they can just breathe and be.

Mop: Yes, occasionally, with a well-rung out sponge mop. With a hardwood floor instead of carpet, I see way more dirt than I did before. Mostly I can just sweep it up, but eventually it gets greasy.

Nylons: Hand or machine wash: N/A (I hate nylons. I usually can't wear them to the point of dirtiness without tearing a hole in them, so I just trash 'em. Bloomers and knee socks in the winter.)

Oven, how do you check it? Open the door. The window, I am sorry to say, is too dirty. I have a phobia about cleaning fridges and ovens from being a military cook.

Pizza, what do you put on it? I try to use up leftovers, but I also have a store of pepperoni and salami in the freezer. So it's either Hawaiian or BBQ chicken or spicy Italian. Hubby likes artichokes and lotsa garlic.

Quiet: What do I do in my quiet moments during the day. I make a cup of tea and read the semi-interesting stuff that comes in the week's mail. If I'm really fried I sleep. Oh, and pray!

Recipe card box: Hardly ever use it. I keep my Mom's recipes in there, but I never use the ones I clip from newspapers or jot down from the TV.

Style of house: 2-story contemporary. Not very evocative--or convenient. The place was designed like an apartment, with almost no utility areas. No porches, no entry, no mudroom, no pantry, no broom closet, no linen closet, no storage shed, no access to the garage from the back yard, no basement, no attic. You need these things in a house if you're going to live in it for the long haul.

Tablecloths and napkins? Neither. With little people tottering around grabbing everything they see, our house lacks this little hallmark of civilization. And our table is so ugly. BUT it is always scrupulously clean.

Dang this is a long meme.

Under the sink-what's it like? Totally cleaned and organized. I know, surprised even myself (fruit of recent homemaking inspiration--little people helped).

Vacuuming, times per week. At least once. It was way less before Tom got sick with the whole allergy/lung thing. We are saving up hubby's hotel points to get a Dyson. I heard that thing sucks.

Laundry, how many loads per week. It's probably kinda tame. I do one or two loads a day but I don't have to do it every day of the week. If I keep on it, it eventually gets down to less than one load a day worth of buildup. Then the baby'll throw up and the diapers pile up and hubby comes home and I'm buried.

Daily to-do list: I have a monthly calendar that I write things down on that I Must Not Forget. Then I check them off. If I'm feeling pretty disorganized, I write down things like, DISHES. MAIL. LAUNDRY. If I'm feeling really organized, I only write down appointments and things like PLANT BULBS. SORT OLD PHOTOGRAPHS. But those things never get done anyway. If I'm at a loss for things to do, I scan the calendar for any unchecked items. If I'm too busy, I ignore the calendar.

Yard-who does what? Sigh. Basically, I do everything. With Dean gone all the time, it goes with the territory. Plus, he's terrible at mowing. He doesn't really care how things look, so he leaves tall pieces sticking up everywhere. But I guess it's OK. If he did all that, I would probably never go outside.

ZZZZ. Last thing I do before I go to bed. Make bottles. Make soy milk if I have to. Lock up. Clear and wipe counters. Straighten living room and sometimes pick up stray toys. Put out food and water and/or kick out the cats.

Tag: I haven't seen laurathecrazymama do this one yet. You're it!

Suggested New Category: Grossest shortcut you've ever made in your homemaking life:

Putting the dirty sheets back on the bed because I failed to wash them earlier!

PS Changing to new Blogger was a breeze...glad I dragged my feet a little.

Try a Little Tenderness

2007-01-21T00:04:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you've all heard the reading about the Pharisee and the publican. The Pharisee sits there in church and thinks about all the good things he's done, and how glad he is that he's not like "those people." And then there's the publican ("those people") who sits there and says, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner."

Well I have to admit that, while I never actually believed that I fit the publican's role in the story better than the Pharisee, I never thought I was the Pharisee. Nobody does, right? I just wasn't conscious of having done a whole lot wrong. This is otherwise known as "confession amnesia." If you wait to do your Examination until you're sitting there waiting for the confessional, you're sunk, because you suddenly become the most holy person in the world and you can't remember anything you did wrong.

Now I know I'm the Pharisee. And you can all witness to the proof. If you scroll down, you can find a post called Be Nice to Knockers, in which I piously relate an incident about somebody who came to my house, and how I actually listened to him and treated him like a human being. I said that the proof of how you're living the Gospel is in how you treat these unexpected (often intrusive) interludes with people you don't know who badly want you to do something you have absolutely no desire to do.

Like answering a telephone survey. This, my friends, is my Achilles heel. Since they're not actually standing on my property, I can treat them like garbage. Just yesterday I kept getting these calls, which I was trying to dodge with caller ID, anwering machine, voice mail, you name it. They called at least 6 times. Each time, as I realized it was Them, I got more and more incensed. I fumed about my privacy, my time, my rights--until I finally picked up the phone and really gave it to the unfortunate person on the other end with both barrels. I complained that this was harrassment, and I insisted that they take my number off their list this minute. "I know you're a real person and I know it's a sucky job, but I have absolutely no desire to participate, and I can't take any more interruptions!!" The person, whose name was Valerie, accepted my request and promised to do so. The calls ceased.

Now, to my mind a few months ago, there would have been no moral problem with this. But now, there is. How can it be? Because this wasn't the only time. A few weeks ago, my husband was cooking breakfast on a Saturday morning. The phone rang, and my husband began chatting with the caller in his usual friendly way, but I could tell from his half of the conversation that it was one of these survey calls. I thought about how, out of the few days of the month my husband is actually home, my time with him was being stolen away by one of these heartless corporations who sucked people's time out the window for no more exalted a purpose than to advance consumerism. I grabbed the phone out of his hand, told the person on the other end that this was wasting our limited time together, that we were not interested, and never to call us again. I never listened--I did not hear the caller even say one word.

Then I actually took some of my own advice and began to read the diary of St. Faustina, Divine Mercy in my Soul. Now she's a nun, so there's not much that she can do wrong, right? I mean, why is she so miserable? Because God showed her the depth of the sin in her soul, and how even the slightest imperfection separates us from God. This is divine knowledge, the opposite of confession amnesia. It really made me think. If this nun can be miserable about the state of her own soul, and she's dedicated her life completely to God, what state is my soul in? Have I ever really thought about it? Had I ever considered asking God to show me? Suddenly, there was no question of blowing off these insights. Yes, she received them as personal revelation (which is not dogma, and therefore not technically binding), but by reading her diary I receive them too. Jesus told her that that was what her diary was designed to do.

There is a real danger to reading about the saints. I have heard it said that we are only responsible to God for what we know, but once you open yourself to learning more about faith and spirituality, you have to act on what you've learned. You can either accept it or reject it. And if you reject it, you could be rejecting the truths of God, things that He wants you to see. Now, if you honestly read something and ponder it and can then put it away with an absolutely clear conscience, you are probably OK. That's what happened to me with the headcoverings-all-the-time idea. I couldn't reject headcovering in church with a completely clear conscience, however. So I had to act on it. That's the "danger"--that you might have to change something about your life based on what you have learned.

That's why blowing off these callers the way I did was wrong. I hid behind anonymity, and used my anger to sin. I spoke words of wrath--words that could seriously hurt somebody. When I think about how I would feel if I had to do that job all day--and be treated in such a way as I treated these callers, I thought that if somebody would just be decent to me and give me the dignity of being able to do my job--then that would be a kindness. And one act of kindness does more to spread the Gospel than thousands of words shouted from a soapbox. That's what the lives of the saints are about. Showing tenderness to people that are treated like they're less than human. Is this easy for me to accept? No, I am still thinking this one through. But the answer is staring me in the face. Who did Jesus spend time with? The upper class? The middle class? The respectable people? No, he hung out with the people that no one else wanted to have anything to do with.

Today I guess that group would include telemarketers, too.

NOTE: Dear readers, I have really enjoyed this blog but consider it to be on probation status. Thanks to all who may have comented on the post A Gentle Metaphorphosis--but I have not checked for comments on that post and will not be reading them. It was just too personal. But thank you for your thoughts. I just don't know if God wants me to use this online "soapbox." So posts may be sporadic for awhile.

A Gentle Metamorphosis

2007-01-05T23:40:00.000-08:00

A quiet revolution has been going on inside me ever since I began the whole veil/modesty project. It has become clear to me that it is not proper to try and make what I am doing sound more effective and desirable than what other people may feel God calls them to do. Please hear my heart. It started with externals, yes, but it has become so much more--something that, without too much analysis, I will try to present so that others may discern the mysterious call particular to themselves.

I knew that we are all called to grow closer to God--I had, in fact, begun working up a piece on how God calls everyone to be saints, that there must be a path to sainthood waiting for each of us ordinary people if we will only persevere in prayer to ask God to show it to us. Granted, this kind of sainthood is not the kind that comes in a flash, or that leaves us in transports of ecstasy. It is an ordinary sainthood--a vision of a long life, well-lived squarely within the arms of the Church, depending chiefly on the life of the sacraments and of prayer. It all ends with a confessor by our deathbeds and a final plea to God's mercy. No canonization, no holy cards, no public recognition of any kind. Simply to be breathed into God's presence and to be spared any separation from Him, however temporary, was my wish.

There is a part of me that fights this. It says, "Don't tell God that you want to trust Him entirely! What if He takes your husband away? What if He burns down your house? What if he gives you the kind of disease where you can't do anything useful, but people don't think you're sick enough to help you?" and on and on and on. The upshot was, if you give God a blank check, He's just going to make you miserable. This part doesn't like prayer, either. "Just take a break," it says. "Not like you're doing anything for anybody, anyway." It's poisonous, this satanic sinful selfish voice. And it's always with me. It reminds me of everything I've ever done wrong, every indecent image I've ever seen, every horrible news story I've ever heard, and at the same time pumps up my sense of myself as a very strong, capable, intelligent person. It wants me to depend on me.

Then a wonderful thing happened. I found a blog called Homeliving Helper. I began to read the archives, first attracted by the plentiful images of beautiful homes and ladies in old-time costumes. But I began to absorb the message that being a mom and a wife--my vocation--was something of beauty, worth, and dignity. Up until now, I was still operating under the Old Paradigm--that being a stay-at-home-mom was just something some women did when they didn't have anything else better to do. And it was a good thing as far as it went, but when that last kid goes off to kindergarten...Mom should be scanning the classifieds.

I've called this blog the Catholic Housewife, but the truth is, I felt myself as more of a great-writer-in-the-rough, honing my craft in obscurity until The Great Day when all my kids are gone and I can hit the big time. Fulfill my potential. In the meantime, I let my toilets get grimy and my yard fill with leaves, because, "I'm above all this, right? You don't mean that some women actually clean their bathrooms every day? Are they insane?" That's why I fill my blog posts with analytical exercises and mystical maunderings, not housewife-y stuff.

Inspired by this blog, I did two things. One, I started putting my hair up every day. And I made myself an apron. I started putting things back when I was done using them, and I began looking around for ways I could make my home appear more comfortable, beautiful, and restful to the spirit. The vocation of being a housewife, homemaker, or "keeper at home" is about making the home a place worth coming home to: a place to eat and sleep, of course, but also a place to have tea, to crochet, to curl up with a book, to paint a picture, or to host a group--in short, a place to LIVE.

The home is your own apostolate, and you run it the way that you like. You can make it as ugly and stressful as you want, or as beautiful and serene as you want. Hint: things are much easier to clean when you can rest your eyes on something beautiful when you're all done, not something just sterile and impersonal. So, suddenly--my toilets are clean (OK, cleaner). My dishes are caught up and--wonder of wonders--even the laundry doesn't even fill one basket.

But there's a catch.

This will not work if you are putting your priorities in the wrong order. If I get compliments on my kids' behavior (no they're not perfect, so I'm not bragging...but it does happen), there's really no secret to how I manage them. I never forget who's in charge of them. And I never forget who's in charge of me. Women are under obedience; first of all to God, of course, but also to husbands or fathers--the representatives of God's authority. This is the unpopular angle of the blog. Yes, it is a Christian woman who mostly writes it. A minister's wife, in fact, from Oregon. She is fearless in her critique of the so-called "women's movement," and advances firmly the Biblical view that a woman must be the complement of the man. She--the woman--has her own role, her own gifts and dignity, but she and he are not the same. She tries to fill up what is lacking in him--she doesn't try to do his work, and she doesn't insist on him doing her duties. Like dishes.

It used to eat me up inside that when Dean was home, he'd be sitting on his rear while I labored over a sink full of steamy dishwater. "Why should I have to do this [Old Paradigm thinking] while he gets to just sit there? He should be helping me and then we can both rest!" went the refrain in my head. Now when I'm doing dishes I think, "I wonder if I can bring him anything." I never saw anything intrinsically important in domestic duties before. Now I see that I am ministering to my family when I go around, picking up socks and straightening towels. Not that I want to be a slave to anyone. I will certainly teach my children to pick up after themselves. But when my husband comes home after being on the road for ten or more days, I gladly pick up his socks, rub his shoulders, and bring him coffee. He's done his job--now here's my chance to do mine. Even our marriage bed has benefited.

Why am I telling you all this? I can hear it now: "Just because you've got the perfect life doesn't mean you have to brag about it and make everybody else feel bad." Granted, my way of embracing my vocation may not be your way. And my life is certainly not perfect. But Lady Lydia has many posts with insights into divorce, and what makes relationships go bad in today's society (I mean ordinary people, not people who are married to drunks or people with mental problems). How do ordinary marriages that start out OK go bad?

It usually has something to do with the woman trying to be the same as the man. She goes to work and pulls down a paycheck, so she doesn't feel like she should be doing all the housework when she gets home. She gets no pleasure from homemaking, since she never has the time or the energy. When the kids come, all they can do is fight about money. She is eaten up with resentment every day from some perceived fault of his that he refuses to take seriously. Then one day when their marriage is good and strained--she catches an interested glance from her boss, or he begins to confide in a sympathetic female. One may get caught up in a vice, like pornography, alcohol, gambling.

One day, it all blows up in their faces, and one partner angrily demands a divorce. I'm not saying it was all her fault. As women begin to disdain and deny their God-given roles, men begin to disdain and deny their own. Hence the complaint, "Where have all the good men gone?" But there's so much she could have done differently had she tried to live according to the role ordained to women by God. Being the heart of the home. The help-meet of the man. Maybe she takes a job if they need it, but her heart is not in competition with his. They are a team, but a team with a captain.

Why should this be so difficult to understand? Because everything around us tells women that YOU are top priority. You've got to take time for YOURSELF. How are YOU doing? Are you fulfilling YOUR potential? When people enter a marriage with this mindset, it's a prescription for ruin. I know how easily my husband and I could have gone down this road. And I'm sorry if it disappoints some, but it is really the woman's duty to back down first if there is some disagreement. That is biblical, and it's also practical.

In fact, as I've begun practicing this, sometimes swallowing my pride with a giant gulp--I've found that it's for the best. And my husband is SO GRATEFUL. He stumbles over himself to make it up to me. He tells me over and over again how I am the best wife in the world, and he's so lucky to have me. He is grateful for having been given back his manhood. Women, we can take our men's manhood, but we can't be surprised if he then becomes a creature that we despise. I may disagree with my husband, but now I glory in the fact that he's my man, and I'm his woman. Even if he screws up royally, it's not technically my fault. God knows that I am under obedience.

This obedience thing has been underscored by some spiritual reading I've done lately. I've been reading the diary of St. Maria Faustina Kowalska, Divine Mercy in my Soul. It's a very thick book, but an irresistable read (I mean, who wouldn't be curious to "listen in" on somebody's conversation with Jesus??). He tells her over and over again that she must be perfectly obedient to her superiors and to her confessors, even when it appears to thwart her efforts to accomplish what Jesus has been telling her to do. Even when she appears to disobey Jesus, He praises her, because it is out of obedience. Reading this, I had to ask myself, "Just who am I in obedience to? I know I am bound to obey God and the Church, and if my confessor told me to do something, I would certainly do it, but I'm not a religious." In the book, Jesus makes it abundantly clear to her that he is immensely pleased with the virtue of obedience, and I couldn't help but want a share in the graces He promises.

Then great inspiration struck. I can obtain all the graces of obedience by treating my husband as my "superior" (in the sense of St. Faustina's "Mother Superior"). This may sound crazy to some people, but I wanted to obey. I even started asking my husband for his opinion on many more matters than I ever have, because 1) it makes decision making easier; and (2 if it doesn't work out, I don't have to feel humilated that I make a wrong choice. Besides this, Jesus loves a humble and obedient soul. Now it is true that most of us have heard preaching on humility, but not many know how to apply it. The secret is obedience. Jesus loves to rest in an obedient heart, He told St. Faustina.

This is not a prescription for servility, by the way. My husband trusts me to run 99.99% of our lives. I basically run everything, because he is gone so much, but I can't strip away his God-given role of leadership in our home and our lives. I have to find some way to give it back to him, or risk wrenching the reins out of his hands out of sheer habit.

So now that I'm coming across as a religious fruitcake with nuts on top, you get the general drift of where I've been going. Don't bother to leave long screeds in the combox objecting to what I've presented here. It's for me; it's my path, the path God has shown me. I asked Him for it, and I'm happy. That's the miracle. By placing God first, my husband and then my kids second, my home third, and myself last, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. Whenever I've tried any other order of priority than this, I've been miserable.

I know that was long, and a little disjointed. Sorry for that. I question even if this blog is a good use of my time. But I'm grateful for you. Let me encourage you to take a little step closer to Jesus, however you understand Him. He is so close. He breathes on us. He sustains that little bug crawling across the floor. Do you think he doesn't care about you? He does...more than you can imagine.

Have Yourself a Secular Little Christmas

2006-12-18T14:48:00.000-08:00

It just occurred to me, after talking with some secular neighbors, that many people are not Christians, yet desire to celebrate Christmas anyway. How do they do it? One friend of mine (who is ostensibly Christian) is having what I call The Movie Christmas. On Christmas day she is driving to a Scandinavian-themed town to have Belgian waffles, and then will go see a horror movie with her friend. This stirred up a feeling of vague unease within me, hence the topic of this post.

I've been so wrapped up in my religious musings that I forgot to take non-religious people into account. They have weak faith or no faith at all in Christ. And yet, rather than be militantly anti-Christmas, they feel entitled to take part in whatever secular offerings our culture (yech! I hate that phrase, yet it fits so often...) serves up for the holiday. Visiting with friends and family, shopping, eating, recreating, movie-going, or just simply sleeping is, for them, the best way to spend the day.

You can't try and tell these people that they're wrong. Deep inside, they must know. That's why they have to do SOMETHING. But the trouble is, the something they end up doing isn't for God, or other people. It's ultimately for themselves. If we're not confessing Christ, we must try to actively avoid Him. If we de-throne God, we end up placing ourselves in His place. We must hurry and scurry to gather up nuts to try and fill up the hole in our hearts He has left behind. We must salve the wound by some means--

1) The Big Money Blow-Out Christmas
Surely, these people are out there. They are the ones who watch the ads, because they've been saving up all their wants for "big stuff" all year, and now they're determined...they're finally going to buy the new BMW, the huge flat-screen TV, the mondo stereo system, or the 15' tree. Folks of more modest means end up spending way too much money--especially to impress jaded kids--because that's what they've been led to expect. The trend of Protestants cancelling Christmas day services merely feeds this tendency--we pay lip service to Jesus, but it's really all about fun, family, food, and new stuff.

2) The Vintage Christmas
Nostalgia, not faith, gets these people going. They long for Christmases past, watch old holiday films--like Miracle on 34th Street or It's a Wonderful Life--with religious intensity. They scan magazines to create the perfect traditional Christmas decor for their homes, without any images of the Nativity or mentions of Christianity. They may have kept lists for months and shopped for days so as to have just the perfect gift on hand for everyone. They want the frosting without the cookie, light without heat, and the egg-nog without the calories. They often have huge parties or place great emphasis on "family time" as the reason for the season.

3) The Football / Shop-til-you-drop Christmas
This kind of celebration often happens concurrently, with the men holed up in the house roaring over bad referee calls while the women escape to the mall for deep Christmas-day discounts. What's sad about this kind of Christmas is that it divides families and keeps them focused on other stuff. Unfortunately, we have probably all had one of these, because it keeps people at large family gatherings from killing each other.

5) The Bah Humbug Christmas
This is the kind of Christmas that old people have after the kids have left the house, and with them, any kind of religiosity on the part of the parents. "Oh, we used to put on such a production for the kids," they chuckle. "But this year we didn't even put up a tree. Harold is asleep on the couch, and I'm due over at Barb's for Bunco." Pretending that Christmas is not happening is the magic bullet for them.

So what do we do? I don't want to judge these people, I want to evangelize them. In a block full of blow-up santas and light-up deer, I really wanted to have a nativity scene, but I couldn't find one. My cookies have fallen flat (I made them with margarine--DOH!). I would like to distribute some small token gift to my neighbors, but don't want to offend. So, I invite suggestions. How do you deal with this problem? What other kinds of secular Christmas revelry have I missed?

The thinning of the veil

2006-12-12T22:24:00.000-08:00

As I write this, my grandfather is dying. They have "sent him home to die"--said he had six to twelve months left, depending on how his diet and medications are balanced. If even ONE little thing gets out of whack, he's dead. They argue over whether he can have another piece of bread, and my mom says he's hungry all the time. He sneaks candy when no one's looking. My black-sheep uncle is staying with them and overseeing everything, but he hasn't got the greatest bedside manner, says my mom.

When I asked if he had received the Anointing of the Sick, my mom and grandma seemed nonplussed. "He'll never accept that," said my Mom. "He thinks it's Last Rites, and he can't face his own mortality. He never even made a will." My grandma said, "He's had a good run, and it's in God's hands now." Meanwhile, I am struggling with my own frustration...yeah, but we can help him to accept his birth into eternity with grace--I tried to say in the gentlest way possible.

In 1999, I was in Hong Kong with the boat for a quick liberty stop. But it happened to be the Chinese New Year--and you could read microfilm by the skyscrapers set ablaze with electricity. In contrast, our Christian New Year begins with a hush and an old song with a somber lilt. O Come, Emmanuel! The Office readings all have as their refrain, Come, Lord Jesus! Come save us from our sins, from the darkness. Be our light. What happens in the beginning of a wedding, when the bride reaches the altar? He raises her veil, so that all can look upon her beauty. Your light will come, Jerusalem. The Lord will dawn on you in radiant beauty.

Seems like people shut into themselves in winter, when trees drop their leaves and people finally start to put on some clothes. But what we should be doing is baring our souls. Our liturgical readings blend Christ's Second Coming with his first, to remind us of death, last things, judgment. Recently, two people I know have died. When I pray at night, I try to wrap my mind around the sum and span of their lives--the mere 40 or 50 years these two have known on this earth (taken by surprise), with no hint of an ending--compared with eternity. For eternity they are either for or against Jesus, spending the deathless ages in unspeakable joy or remorseless misery. Makes you think.

One of the things it makes me think is that our real work is not in this life. Think of the great saints who have died declaiming completely the worth of all their heroic works. "Now we begin," St. Francis is reported to have said at death. "For from before until now we have done nothing." St. Thomas Aquinas claimed all his great theological works were merely "straw." St. Therese of Liseiux wrote that, while she would have preferred to have become a missioner, even to suffer martyrdom--she was, rather, only a little plaything of the Child Jesus. Jesus told St. Faustina Kowalska that she was to be the Secretary of His Divine Mercy for her life on Earth. Any guesses as to what she's doing up in Heaven?

Flip on a television and watch the commericals for five minutes, and you'll get a completely opposite view. "Your future is now!" the ads scream. "Life is only worth all the pleasure and enjoyment you can get out of it...pursue health, wealth, beauty, and fame, and you've got it made. Live for the moment, because that's all there is, folks!" But what a bare, poor life that is compared with even the flashes of joy we experience in this life, the fullness of which can only be achieved in Heaven. And yet the thick, suffocating veil of materiality seems impenetrable. How can we deepen our sense of the endless? How can we apprehend immortality?

1. Advent is a great time to start praying. If you don't already have some kind of daily devotion, start one now. Since last year I have been praying Morning and Evening Prayer, with the super-abbreviated breviary, and it's mostly worked out. I love being steeped in the liturgical year instead of the secular year. It's a great way to meditate and memorize Scripture. Plus, it's cool to sign your correspondence with "The Feast of the..." just like bishops and cardinals do.

2. Start singing. Remember any hymns from church? Christmas carols? I'm having to re-learn them because they've been weeded out of radio and TV and the grocery store. I copy down hymns after Mass while my husband is dragging the toddler to the van, then sing from my scraps of paper when I'm alone with the kids.

3. Turn off the voices. It's hard to cultivate an inner dialogue with the Lord when you've got the TV blaring in the background. I limit TV time to Sesame Street and Bob, but after that it's off. Sometimes I listen to Catholic radio. But not always.

4. Take a mind trip. The imagination is a transcendent thing. It's no accident that every human being walking around this planet has an entire galaxy between their ears. Try imagining that when you're driving down the street. Whoa...if they only knew. When you lay down at night and your back/knees/feet/head is hurting, say to yourself, I've got a brand new one in Heaven. If you've had a bad day...I'm one day closer to being home with you, Jesus. Then try and imagine Jesus holding you, comforting you, welcoming you. Try to imagine what would happen if you died tonight. What if you woke up to...Him?? How would you live your day differently?

Don't accept the morbidity that surrounds death in our culture. Surrender to your own mortality. Accept the blinding fact that Jesus waits just beyond the curtain, and what he holds in trust for you is beyond your imagination. And you can't wait to get there! But if you just try to imagine it, using what faculties he gave you--he might grant to you a glimpse through the veil. I hope He gives something like that to my grandpa.

Please pray for him, his name is Harry.

Starving for Beauty

2006-12-11T21:50:00.000-08:00

NO, this is not a post on anorexia--just a little epiphany I had today while wrapping presents. I got this mega-huge bag of old ribbon spools at Goodwill a few months ago, everything from red and white gingham to chartreuse polka dots, with a lot of good Christmas colors, but other crazy stuff too. And I had to wrap a big pile of presents so I used a good bit of the crazy stuff in there too. I got more and more elaborate with the wrapping, meditatively matching (and mis-matching) colors and patterns on top of the already-printed wrapping paper. I reminisced about past Christmases and thought about what made them special. All the time I thought, "I'm stupid for wasting time doing up these packages that are going to be shredded in no time flat."

But I wanted everyone who happens to be in our house to "feel special." I mean, when you're over 30 and you know that what's under the paper is no more exciting than socks and butter cookies, I thought that maybe we can squeeze just a bit more enjoyment out of the packages themselves. Maybe it will help the adults feel like kids again, just for a moment. Maybe it will help visitors feel especially loved and welcomed, just for a moment. Maybe it will stick in the kids' memories 20 years from now when they look around their college dorms and think, "Man, I wish I could be home for Christmas." Since we are moms, we can do that. We can take the time and make the cookies, use a little extra ribbon on the gifts, put a little extra flair into our decorating. Now I'm no Martha Stewart, mind you. I've got a downright scary toilet that needs cleaning, so I am neglecting things in order to wrap these presents, that I should perhaps be doing. But I couldn't tear myself away!

I got to my presents and started to feel sorry for myself because I had to wrap my own presents. How stupid, I thought. It's so much work, and it's not like I'm going to be surprised! I was tempted to skimp on ribbon and put less effort into my own packages. I mean, the baby is crying as it is! Then--WHAMMO--the realization hit me. We never think we are worth a little extra effort. A little extra attention. A little spot of sheer gratuitous beauty in our lives that sometimes seem as dull as...well, dishwater.

BUT...

God thinks we are worth it. God loves me! God loves me and wants to shower down presents on me. God thinks I'm worth a little pretty packaging, just because I'm me. Somewhere I had fallen into the trap of thinking that God loves what I do. But it's not true. A little tiny voice was trying to tell me, God loves you. He loves you as joyfully and abundantly and dearly and unconditionally as you love your kids, the little voice said. Even more. And when you exert yourself to add just a little bit of beauty to your life and the lives of others, you are doing His work. Those packages may go unremarked, but the likelihood is that the recipients will feel the love that you put into them, and they will treasure the love, not necessarily the wrapping paper or the socks. So I wrapped those packages and added plenty of frills.

That's what makes the home. It's the love that the mother can put into it, and any little touches of beauty that she can bring. That's what's missing in the culture "out there." There is pragmatism and commercialism and cold charity and cost. But not love. Yes, we have to scrape greasy dishes and clean up all the grimy stuff--life as real as it gets. But I think that we need beauty even more as an antidote. To remind ourselves that it's not just by changing diapers and fixing food that we show our love. This post goes into it a little bit better than I can think right now. But I am thinking, let's pursue an apostolate of beauty along with our wifehood.

An attempt at using my degree...

2006-12-05T23:14:00.000-08:00

So can I, like, start a meme? What's the worst book you ever read, that just had really bad writing? I don't mean it wasn't a page-turner, or even a bestseller, but that the writing just made you wince.

I just finished a two-book series called Cordelia's Honor, the first book of which is called Shards of Honor, and the second Barrayar. My husband had it sitting on his shelf and I noticed it had a woman on the front and she was actually dressed. Might be interesting, I thought. Since it was a science-fiction novel, I thought it must have lots of space battles, or lots to do with space, or with technology. Wrong. This book was mostly about reproduction. That confused me, because I had misread the author's name, Lois McMaster Bujold, to mean Louis. I thought, "Why's this man writing what seems to me to be a really weird romance novel?" Talk about feeling stupid.

Now, I don't have time to give a full synopsis of the series, but it will suffice to say that this is mostly a romance told with a military backdrop. Both the man and the woman come from different planets, with totally alien social structures.

Cordelia comes from Beta Colony, where all buildings are underground to shield people from the desert sun. This is an appropriate setting for Beta Colony's sterile society, which relies on comconsoles (Article 1 of the Constitution: No one shall be deprived of information), psychotherapy and drugs to solve any social "problems," and whiz-bang technology to control the birth rate. Nobody gets "married" on Beta Colony. If two people decide that they want a baby, they have to meet certain physical, emotional, and economic tests, take classes, pass boards, and purchase a "child permit." The child is then grown in a "uterine replicator" while the co-parents go their merry ways.

In contrast, Aral Vorkosigan is heir to his father's fortune, estates, and political problems. His planet is locked in a perpetual cycle of wars and political intrigue that makes 14th century Germany look tame. He has to tread the treacherous waters of the Barrayaran military, while holding his familial and political loyalties in tension--all of which blow up in his and Cordelia's faces, once they are together on Barrayar. Their son, Miles, is disabled because of a poison gas attack and, preserved in a liberated uterine replicator, becomes the football in a deadly game of power politics.

On the face of it, this should not be a bad book. After all, it didn't start out bad--Aral takes Cordelia as a hostage after foiling a mutiny, and they gradually fall in love while tramping through the bush and trying to stay alive. The trouble is that once they get back to society, there is some kind of attempt by the author to set up a culture clash which she doesn't quite bring off. Despite Cordelia's constant little observations about how "savage" Barrayaran culture is, her society is shown to have all the bad tendencies of any super-centralized, "Big Brother"-style civilization. So after they try to force her to give in to their drugs and "therapy" (because she must, of course, be some kind of spy after her experience with Aral), she runs away and uses all her military skills to make it to Barrayar, where she comes upon the unsuspecting Vorkosigan, who had left his marriage proposal lying inert in her lap and was now drinking himself to death. Then there is about two lines' worth of white space on the page and the narrative begins again...guess when...several weeks AFTER their wedding.

Huh??

Any romance reader worth her salt knows that after the big leadup and falling-in-love section of the book, the "climax"--as it were--of any romance is The Wedding, and of course, The Wedding Night...or at least, The Clinch (for this is where we seem to be going these days). This is the only real motivating force behind the genre. And the author just skips it.

There she lost my trust, as a reader. I think it was a boneheaded thing to do. She did not have to give it explicit, gratuitous detail...but seeing as how she'd used the genre thus far, and made us care about these characters and want to see them happy...she needed to at least sketch in the rest of the structure before she left it behind and switched over to another genre. Which she does, then, with bone-jarring force. End book one.

Book two starts with a full-blown political crisis. The emperor is dead and the heir is only five years old. Vorkosigan is the only qualified Regent to be had, and Cordelia, as his wife, finds herself in a curious position. She's a commoner, a "galactic," a feminist in a male-dominated world, and something of a close-order tactician. She doesn't care about clothes, courts, or counts, but she does care about Aral and her friends. So when political tensions on Barrayar explode into an attempted coup, she must first regain her old sense of herself (while fleeing through the mountains) in enough time to foil the bad 'uns plot, save her son, and cut off the head of the pretender. Whoops, that was a spoiler. Not that you were really going to read the book.

I could write a ten-page paper on all the flaws in this novel(s), but thankfully John C. Wright has summed it up for me:

"We can see a pattern in...realistic fiction: the scenery is mundane and unimaginative. The props and events are ordinary rather than extraordinary, and hence unimaginative. The events also must lack the one thing the human imagination always reads into events, that is, a moral purpose or providential meaning. The way a dull and unimaginative mind sees life, as a flux of events in which no pattern can be found, is the viewpoint of modernism. No extraordinary characters, no men of sterling virtue or villains of blackest vice, can exist in modernism, because there is nothing extraordinary in their world. It takes an act of imagination to picture the personality and behavior of a saint or a serial murderer."

http://johncwright.livejournal.com/57689.html#cutid1

Why does this criticism apply to Cordelia's Honor? In fairness, I must say that the author admits in an afterword that these books, while the first to be written, were the last to be sold and amount to a prequel to the main series, which concerns Miles and his exploits. And in all frankness, it is a triumph of conceit to sit back and, not having written a novel oneself, proceed to take apart somebody else's literary labor of love. But that is what English Majors do.

THE HERO

Aral Vorkosigan would have been a great hero if he hadn't been castrated in the first book. Feminist sensibilities might make for good press, but they make abysmally bad storytelling. It's not enough for Cordelia to just be herself. She has to be a scientist and a soldier before she can be Aral's love interest. When he proposes to her, she is so formidable that he acts like he's negotiating a treaty. She escapes from his ship out from under his nose when her loyal troops (all men) come to rescue their Commander, yet before she leaves, she single-handedly saves his hide from another bunch of would-be mutineers.

THE LADY

Cordelia bears no relation to her namesake of King Lear. She'd rather wear her old tan Survey fatigues than a dress, prefers watching a fight over a ball, and keeps a running internal dialogue on how backward Barrayar is and how she wonders if Beta Colony would have her back. Incomprehensibly, the author keeps putting vague religious references into her mouth without anchoring them in anything stemming from her culture, upbringing, or even her own personal beliefs (which we never find out). She's not exactly a crack fighter, but all the action-oriented plot points hinge on her ability to snatch victory from defeat. She becomes pregnant in the second book, and although she muses impartially on the various advantages and disadvantages of reproducing "in vivo" rather than "in vitro," she becomes fixated on her son only when it seems certain he will die.

THE BABY-IN-A-CAN

This is the weirdest plot point yet. I don't have a problem with science fiction writers thinking through the likely technological developments of the future, but they need to think through the probable moral and social consequences as well. Wright's criticism of modernism comes into play here as we see more and more tales cranked out, especially in the science fiction genre, in which technology that revolutionizes some aspect of life is dropped onto the stage like a sandbag, and left there with no moral consequences. Ms. Bujold does a good job of thinking through the political in-fighting that is the meat of the plot, so one wonders why her treatment of these (surely) much more personal and contemporary concerns is so clumsy, especially since they are so germane to the main characters and to the baby who will become the main character of a lengthy series.

In fairness, Ms. Bujold's overarching theme could be considered pro-life--the whole point of Miles' story arc is that he is "disabled" and yet goes on to lead a life of adventure and significance. So when he is in the uterine replicator, there is some dialogue on whether or not "opening up the stopcocks" may or may not be the best thing to do in his situation. However, the theme is still problematic because when Cordelia and Aral discuss it, they admit that both their worlds practice eugenics in some form, and while it's not clear whether they endorse these practices, they seem to be resigned to their necessity.

There is not only NOT clear moral direction here, but there is no attempt to even draw distinctions, i.e. contraception is OK, but not infantacide, for instance. This makes no sense--in our times, such statements are hardly ever made, not because they don't matter, but because people argue endlessly about them. Ms. Bujold picks these topics up as one would a snowglobe, shaking it and watching the snow fall for a moment, then walking away.

THE WEIRD SEXUAL STUFF

Another hallmark of modernism that I've found is its treatment of the physical body and the sexual nature of man as just another biological function that can and should be manipulated, with no especial moral complications. We have stories and novels now in which characters no longer have sex--they are merely rutting like two farm animals might, and the rutting process is described in indelicate and painful detail. Sexual abuse figures largely in Cordelia's Honor, and I am still trying to figure out why.

After eschewing the Wedding Night scene in the first novel, I thought maybe Ms. Bujold just didn't want to be caught focusing on sex. This notion was blown out of the water by the second novel's opening gambit, a military maneuver that results in Cordelia's being taken as a prisoner of war, and chained to the bed of some sadistic Vice-Admiral for what promises to be a long, drawn out rape scene. The room is described in vivid detail, as well as all the Vice-Admirals "plans" for her. During this, Cordelia lies stoically on the bed, refusing to acknowledge pain or fear. She is a soldier, after all--at least in this scene. She does have a miraculous escape, but my question is why. Why the detailed rape scene that ultimately has no more than a footnote's significance to the overall story, while the consummation of the love the two main characters have in their marriage is conspicuously left out? Why must there be a scene in which a 9 1/2 months pregnant woman is sexually degraded? The answer is because modernism allows for brutality, but not love. Love points to a higher plane of being.

CONCLUSION

Without making any direct attacks on Ms. Bujold--who I assume does not have the gift of faith, and who had the guts to write, and keep on writing...even when the first couple of books didn't pan out--I reject this style of writing categorically. I thought one of the great advantages of science fiction was that you could address topics that weren't compatible with "realistic" (modernist) literature. You could address spirituality, love, the conflict of the human heart...even controversial topics that are almost impossible to show on TV or in film without an uproar. Cordelia's Honor makes an attempt at this...but falls far too short of success, and shows the bad tendencies of the modernist influence and how it ultimately fails the story, the characters, and the reader. One hopes that Ms. Bujold was able to work out these issues and capture some transcendent themes that, sadly, were only dimly reflected in these first books.

***

On a personal note, I stopped trying to write fiction after college because I felt it was no longer worth it. Unless you were writing for a specific genre and followed all their rules (which I felt was too restrictive), the only model you had to go on if you aspired to write literature was this modernistic garbage: where characters' relationships were like car crashes, and the blood and guts were described with obsessive detail...while the whole point of storytelling--what makes this life matter--was missing.

Oh, I almost forgot...I tag Amy Caroline, mary poppins not, and laurathecrazymama!

My Progenitor is Literary

2006-12-02T21:10:00.000-08:00

So with all due respect to my dad, I'd never thought I'd say this...my dad is a great writer! And he needs to get published! Sure, it's taken him a good fifty years an' what-all to gettin' it sorted all out down below, but now-a see hyar what kind-a yarn tellin' this ol' fox is 'capable uv:

"Well sir, Ah was jest 'bout ta creep outa there in low-range when Ah got to thinkin. This hyar'd be a good spot to check the underside a ol' Gramps's fer any dee-regularities, what with the extra standin room under thar. So Ah grabbed mah flashlight an reached fer the door handle but it weren't there. So Ah looked 'round an found Ah was sittin on it. So Ah figgered that mehbe it wadn't such a good idea ta open that door at this partic'lar angle. Ah mean thar's prob'ly a ten foot drop a waitin out thar. An hyar Ah am an older gent, alone in the dark a sittin in a truk that's perched pre-carius a half mile up a steep an ragged gulley from a possible rocky water landin an no help fer fifty miles. Ah ain't even got no dawg ta whine over me. So discretion being the better part a valor, Ah'll just have ta go out t'other door."

And that's before anything really happens!

I guess t'other part-a this that really tickles mah hide is that the ol' feller asked me, his weak an' sickly girl-child, fer help with his hyar, what they call it, creatin' process that all writers and such-like do, and hyar ah am, jes' a mean and lowly housewife an' all. So ah'm a mite tickled by the ol' gent ya see, an' ah'm right grateful to have my o-pinyuns asked fer.

Our Papa Celebrates Mass in Ephesus

2006-12-01T14:16:00.000-08:00

Just saw this video on JimmyAkin.org and thought I'd share it with ya'll. I don't know how to put YouTube vids on my blog, so if you click on the link below it will take you to Jimmy's blog and you can watch it there.

Several things struck me about this video. Every time an image of the Pope appears, whether it's on the TV or in a magazine--like this week's cover of Time, the atmosphere around him is electric. I mean, if spiritual graces were visibly manifested as something like...lightning bolts, for instance, he'd be a mass of trailing arcs and sparks. In contrast, I'd be something like that static-y thing that happens when you open your dryer.

Next, watch how the people treat him. I mean, no matter how much you disagree with Catholicism, you cannot argue that this is the one person on Earth who could actually "confront Islam," like it said on the magazine cover. Then watch how he treats the consecrated Host. There is no doubt in my mind that he thinks of himself as the lowliest servant of Christ. And yet, what does it do to a man to consecrate, handle, and consume the Body and Blood of Christ over a lifetime? You can see the love in his hands and face. He does not wear the regalia of a king for his own glory. He does it for the glory of his King.

BTW, there's a good close-up of a woman wearing a headcovering in the vid, although most of the women are not wearing one.

CHECK IT OUT.

If this is pride, it's a funny way to go about it

2006-11-13T22:27:00.000-08:00

Today I had to go to Lowe's, even though the kids and I are still sick, and the last thing I want is for them to get their gooey little hands all over a germy shopping cart. But my special order stain was in, and since this door job we're trying to do is more than three months overdue, I had to stuff everybody in the van and just go do it.

BUT before I could leave the house, I had to find a top/skirt/shoe/coat combo that would work with the weather and with my own ego. As I struggled with my closet on this, I had to ask myself (again) just why I am going through this. What is so wrong with just throwing on some jeans? It's not like there's anybody at Lowe's who gives a darn about what they're wearing (Lowe's is a lot like Wal-Mart in that respect). And I don't want to look like I'm headed to church. But it's hard to go casual in a skirt, especially in November. I wanted to look modest (thus the skirt) but also sporty and Northwest-y enough to "pass muster" with the fashion critics lodged in my head.

Was I falling victim to pride? I thought about it...and concluded that while my own desire to achieve a certain "look" was probably prideful, it would have been just as prideful to throw on the jeans and then smirk at everybody in the store who didn't look as "put together" as I did, or whose butts looked bigger in their pants, or whatever. I discovered that there's always pride, no matter what we're wearing. If anything, wearing the skirt humbles me because I can't be all that my ego wants, being constrained by the modesty standards.

But it made me think again about this whole issue of pride, and whether dressing according to modesty principles is "prideful" because dressing differently tends to attract attention.

This is, perhaps, the biggest reason why Christians don't adopt more conservative dress. Some do, and I'm not trying to exclude them. But for many people in the pews, the last thing they want to do is stick out in the crowd. Part of it is human nature. Heck, even animals try to blend in with their environment--it's a form of self-defense for them, and for us, too. However much we proclaim that we have a "free" country and that people can do whatever they want to do, it's the rare person that swims upstream in the way they dress. For some, this may be a source of pride, particularly if done in a rebellious spirit...like the first hippies who wore their hair long, or when women burned their bras. Their flinging off of social mores in dress was done to attract attention, to make a statement, and to send out a big Boston raspberry to the establishment.

But now our society is full of "hippies" who think they are swimming upstream by their way-out modes of dress, so the image has become rather commonplace. And I would say that the last thing this new hippie generation is doing by their dress is making a statement, political or otherwise. They are just trying to fit in with a particular group that they feel best represents their beliefs and opinions. And there's really nothing wrong with that. I wouldn't accuse them of pride at all, even if they felt "proud" of their particular group. It's OK to have pride in who you are. Some people, like Erykah Badu--who often wears a very large and very distinctive African headdress--wear garments that remind themselves (and others) of their roots, and there's no sin in that. Many Americans, out of political correctness, would fall all over themselves to welcome such people and make them feel comfortable, because we've been told that they have a right to express themselves.

What then, are we to think about those among us who adopt a distinctive dress because of religion? Are they way-out? Are they motivated by rebelliousness, or pride? On the contrary, whenever I see a Muslim man in a turban or a woman in a hijab, the last thing I think they are doing is being prideful. In some countries where certain religions are persecuted, people may not even be able to wear distinctive religious garments. We should be glad that Muslims are free to wear what they want.

Some Orthodox Jewish women practice a form of modesty called tznius, which is very strict and regulated. They delineate which areas of the woman's actual bone structure are to be covered or uncovered. Granted, it may not exactly be popular in this country, but is there a big outcry over it? No, the woman's beliefs are simply accepted, because she has a right to express her culture and her religion, and the last thing anybody wants to be accused of is anti-Semitism. Even the babushka ladies at the grocery store remind us that there are many eastern cultures that are making their home here in the United States, and we have a duty to be hospitable and welcoming to these new immigrants.

So now we come to that great silent religion, Christianity. We are the only religion that cannot express ourselves through dress without some form of persecution. But, oddly enough, the persecution tends to come from fellow Christians. Early on in the Reformation, "clerical" garb was quickly discarded by the reformers, because it smacked of Catholicism. Priests and religious have always made easy targets because of the way they dress. Even today, laws that punish religious garb--especially that of Catholics--are in effect or on the table in France and India. And do you think that, left to themselves, they would have wanted it that way? Probably not. There may be nothing harder to bear in the life of a priest than the constant stares, comments, and inevitable questions that arise because of his Roman collar.

Obviously there is a great good in the distinctive dress of priests and religious, as there is in celibacy, or the Church would not have decreed it. For some, the sight of a man or woman of God gives them great comfort and hope, even if they are not Christian. At least there is a person who stands up for what he or she believes and is available to others' needs, as it says in the Gospel. While Blessed Mother Theresa may have adopted her plain white sari because it was common, and poor, it has become the uniform of an army--her Missionaries of Charity. When a poor person looks up out of a gutter and sees that white sari, he sees Mother--and when he sees her, he sees the hand of God.

And I don't think that a laywoman of the Church who gradually transitions her wardrobe over to skirts, jumpers, and dresses is going to incite a lot of turmoil in other people's hearts. Despite Gospel ideals, human nature drives people to be far more concerned about themselves than they ever would be about somebody else's minute details of dress. If guys in the NFL can have dreadlocks cascading out of their helmets, it should not be a violation of anybody else's sensibilities if I put on a wool plaid skirt and go out into the rain.

Is dressing "differently," then, a prideful act? As I hope I have already proved, it can be if done in an in-your-face way, or for specious reasons. Or it can be one of the most humbling things you can do. I don't think anybody who wears offbeat dress for a well-thought-out reason is acting out of deadly sin-type pride. It can be just as dangerous to your soul to "blend in." You could make the argument that those who run to keep up with the latest fashion are falling victim to pride. You could say that aging women who dye their hair and teeth and wear lots of makeup are falling prey to pride. What about people who go to such great lengths to achieve and keep a perfect body? What about people who drive Hummers? Once you start pointing that finger, there is no end to it. The truth is that we are all battling pride in some form or another. And there is no telling, just by looking, who it is. I think the most dangerous thing we can do is second-guess people's motives for how they dress or act. We just don't know.

And when it comes to various stripes of Christian who are struggling to bring back more conservative and graceful modes of dress, in line with their own cultures and religious heritage--they should be encouraged rather than criticized. We may be a small minority, and our form of dress may not be everybody's cup of tea, but we are within our rights in this country, and we should use them while we have them, lest even what we have be taken away.

One Ugly Baby

2006-11-09T19:37:00.000-08:00

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but while I've never considered myself especially attractive, I'm constantly told that I have cute kids (must be my husband's half of the equation). This is Tom, who's one year old, and in this picture he is hanging onto the coffee table for the first time. Yeehaw!

Now this is what happens when my little guy gets his hands onto a dairy product.

Welcome to the world of food allergies. I used to do a lot of reading on this type of thing, when I was going through my "food fads" in college. But now I have absolutely no interest in the subject. When I was in the military, I came to respect ordinary food, so I now look askance at all the "health food" that's out nowadays and their claims to be fat-free, wheat-free, vegan, organic, or whatever. I never thought I would have a baby who couldn't do dairy. So now I have to cudgel my brain to figure out what to do with this baby. We've been feeding him soy formula, which he does OK on. I mean, would you put milk in his mouth if you saw it do this to his face?

My midwife insisted that it was I who caused the allergy by giving Tom his first taste of cow formula when I put his first bottle in his mouth at the nine month mark. I'm still not talking to her. My doctor says he's probably not allergic to it, but then again, she's never seen him like this. To me, this screams, "I HAVE A FOOD ALLERGY! DO NOT FEED ME THIS STUFF!"

So what's a concerned mother to do? He is now a year old, and I am getting really sick of buying $40 worth of formula at Wal-Mart every month. And yet, store-bought soy milk in the aseptic containers is almost as expensive, and not nearly as fortified as the powdered stuff. The cheapest I've been able to find it is for $1.25 a quart, if I buy it by the case on markdown.

The other wrinkle to this situation was the discovery of my own intolerance of dairy. So now I consume almost a quart a day, not counting what Tom would need. In desperation, I asked the Hillbilly Housewife what to do.

Her answer rocked my socks!

The solution is to buy a thing called a soy milk maker, which is apparently very popular in Japan and other Asian cultures that do a lot with soy. She linked to the Sanlinx web page where I found and ordered my new toy. While the machine costs $90 to $120, it pays for itself very quickly, since you can get soybeans for a song. It also comes with a one-year warranty, and right now they're offering a promotional two-year warranty, which I got when I ordered my SoyaPower. The thing that ultimately convinced me were all the unsolicited testimonials on their site, including some people who had a problem with their machine or a part and were satisfied with the service.

Making your own soy milk isn't as simple as making coffee, however. You soak the beans for at least 6 hours, then rinse and put them in the filter basket. You fill the canister up to the mark (about 1.8 quarts), then put the whole thing together and press a button. That's the simplest part. The machine heats the water, the blade pulverizes the beans, the cycle runs about 15 minutes, and beeps when it's done. Then you pull the top off and clean the heater element and blade. The filter you pull off and either save or discard the mashed bean by-product inside (hint: don't throw it away, lots of good uses for it). Then you have to clean the filter. The filter is not easy to clean. Your best bet is to buy the Magic Cleaner that they sell, or be like me and make the little sample they give you last as long as possible. You soak the filter in the solution, and next day it's pristine and ready to use again. Meanwhile, you pour the soy milk into a clean container and flavor it with sugar or vanilla or whatever you want to put in it. It takes some finagling to get a comparable taste to the store-bought stuff, if that's what you like. You don't need to buy the special "Laura" beans that they keep touting. One thing I did extra that really helps the texture is that I filter the final product through a paper towel in a Brita pitcher. Otherwise, there is a substantial amount of grit that gets through the filter.

For now I am giving Tom half soy formula and half soy milk from the SoyaPower. When the formula runs out, I'll give him all soy milk with maybe a dose of Poly-Vi-Sol a day. Along with his Claritin.

A Primer on Virtue, or...how not to feel like a failure

2006-11-03T16:39:00.000-08:00

Geez, I wish I could think of more light-hearted things to post about. Maybe it's the weather, and the fact that my neck of the woods tends to be clouded over for more than half the year. In summertime, you only have to paint your toenails once and you could probably get through the whole sandal season.

This is the time of year when people tend to retreat into their homes, turn on the tube, and eat lots of treats. Lately I've been ruminating, a dangerous thing to do in winter when you have two little tykes and don't get out much. My bad habit is to start thinking about all the things that have "gone wrong" and all the things I should have done to prevent it. Like, I could have married another man to prevent Dean's gall bladder surgery and us having to pay the medical bills. Or how it was my fault we bought this house and now I can't get out from under all our home improvement projects.

It is so distressing when you have all these thoughts and plans and expectations built up about what's going to happen--and then something unforseen (and potentially disastrous) blows them all into smithereens. How do you get through this kind of thing, mentally? How do you avoid the thought that it's somehow all YOUR fault? Or that God has turned his face away, as it says so many times in the Psalms?

You could think about how much better you've got it than so many other people in the world. What I mean to say is, you could think things like, "At least we have a roof over our heads," "At least we have our health" (Oops! You can't think that unless everybody is healthy!), "At least we live in a free country" (even that is up for debate). Oh well, you get the drift. But that is a pretty negative way of looking at things, and it only makes me feel worse. Is there a more positive way to deal with stress and upset?

1. You could read the lives of the saints. Yes, 'tis the season to go and get yerself a volume of those, if they're not already on your shelf. Personally, I think saints are fascinating. Their lives were so difficult that you have to admire the fact that they got through it at all, and to top it off, made it to heaven to boot. Plus they are comfortably distant, so you aren't guilt-ridden over the fact that they are alive somewhere in the world suffering while you're making banana bread.

2. Read up on the virtues, and teach them to your kids. Wikipedia is a pretty good place to start to research something, even Catholic things. They list the cardinal virtues as: prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude. The theological virtues are faith, hope, and love--as in charity (it has been posited that only Christians can have these virtues). Alternatively, you could list out the seven deadly sins and then look to their antitheses: lust/chastity, gluttony/moderation, greed/generosity, sloth/zeal, wrath/meekness, envy/charity, and pride/humility. This would also make a good examination of conscience. Instead of trying to figure out what deadly sin you committed, you could ask yourself, "How did I fail to embody the virtues?"

3. Remind yourself that success in God's eyes is not success in the eyes of the world. Oh, how difficult this is! Don't think I am sitting here all smug thinking I've got the answers to everything. I am struggling just as much as anybody--I just choose to embarrass myself by committing it to a literary format. What I mean is, we have to keep telling ourselves that the Christian ideal has never been to put our kids through college and retire with fat bank accounts. Even the saints who have gone out into the wilderness to convert pagans, only to be murdered, were a smashing success in God's eyes. Even Mother Theresa (pray for us!) would have been a success in God's eyes if she never even opened one Missionaries of Charity convent. Because she would have been doing what He asked.

When things start going "wrong," what we need to do is to start examining ourselves and asking, "Am I living the virtues today? Which ones am I great at? Which ones are missing from my life?" If we could focus more on whether we are acting according to the virtues, then when disaster strikes we can at least tell ourselves we acted in the right way according to right intentions. The rest is up to God.

Another $5,000 hospital bill!!

2006-10-30T23:19:00.000-08:00

Sisters, please pray for us and for our little boy's health. And please vote for anything that will reduce health care costs! I hate money!

Veiling: update, apology, and explanation

2006-10-30T23:06:00.000-08:00

Of my very few (but very appreciated) readers, some sharper-eyed ones may have noticed that the two posts "Taking the Veil" and "Taking the Veil...Part II" are gone. I originally wrote those posts after reading a whole raft of info on the issue of mantilla-wearing at Mass, concluding that there must be some kind of holdover from the 1917 Code of Canon Law requiring the wearing of the veil at Mass that the post-Vatican II Church just kept mum about.

In my pride, I felt that Jimmy Akin needed to be corrected, so I informed him of my disagreement with his interpretation of canon law on the subject, citing some traditionalist-oriented web sites as my sources.

Then I read all the discussion threads I could find on Catholic.com pertaining to this subject--and saw that all the veil advocates GOT ABSOLUTELY TROUNCED when they trotted out their arguments for veiling as required by canon law. I modified my opinion to accommodate the new information...which is basically that a satisfactory case for veiling being some kind of back-door requirement of the Church CANNOT BE MADE in such a way that it will be taken seriously. The veil has been consigned to the realm of "personal devotion."

Sadly, I discovered that even Magisterium-loving Catholics are divided into little subcamps. The Catholic Answers/EWTN crowd are called the "neo-cons" and the Latin Mass-loving, mantilla wearing (but not SSPX) crowd are called the traditionalists, or simply "trads" for short. This may not come as much of a shock to anyone but me, but I got really depressed over the whole thing. Can't we all just be Catholic, follow the Magisterium, and get along?

So I took my posts down, wrote a shamefaced little apology e-mail to Jimmy and am now lurking around at jimmyakin.org, afraid to show my moniker.

So by way of explanation, my goal here is to take a little snapshot of my current thinking on mantillas, or headcovering--which is an umbrella term for all kinds of coverings worn in all kinds of situations by all kinds of well-meaning women, be they Christian, Jewish, or Muslim (there is probably a Master's thesis lurking in here).

1. This is a huge issue. I have been reading for weeks, unable to piece together a cohesive Catholic perspective on the whole thing. Aside from the do-we-wear-one-at-Mass-or-not controversy, there are varying interpretations of I Corinthians 11, some of which dismiss the whole thing as an example of Paul just being overzealous, the Corinthians being a special case, or veiling being just a cultural practice specific to the times. While our sola scriptura sisters have a refreshing clarity when it comes to seeing this command jump out at them from Scripture, the Catholics shrink back and cry, "Not unless the Pope tells me to...preferably in person!"

2. If you do decide to wear a headcovering...there is NO GUIDANCE. This is a situation in which it would be a relief to be Amish, or CCF, where they tell you what type of headcovering you are to wear and what color and that's that. If you are Catholic, not only do you have no official direction from the Church on this, you have the active animosity of a large contingent of people who have/had a vested interest in "modernizing" the Church, and here you are drawing attention to yourself and implicitly criticizing their "reforms"-- and that's if you're only wearing a covering at Mass. What if you start showing up to all the non-Mass parish events in your covering? What happens when your lapsed-Catholic relatives get a gander at you come Thanksgiving? How do you explain your "new look" to your few remaining Protestant friends who don't really know anything about the Church in the first place? Right now there are too many unanswered questions for me to start wearing a headcovering full-time, although my heart is drawn to the practice.

3. I am afraid I'll be sending the wrong message...spreading confusion, instead of the gospel. This is the real kicker. We must be in the last, last days, because these days when somebody wants to appear overtly religious, they are either ignored or persecuted (and yes, I consider staring to be a form of persecution--it says, "Who do you think you are? I've got my eye on you!") You will quickly find out what people think of your faith when you wear it on your head. "You look Amish with that thing on your head," said my talkative neighbor Joe when he saw my black kerchief. Note: he didn't say, "Wow, I so appreciate your wonderful Catholic and Christian witness! You are making me think about the Lord!" Now times this reaction by twenty and this is what you will have to endure every day, every week, every year of your life until the end. It is not something to be taken on blithely.

And yet, I admire the Catholic sisters on my Yahoo discussion group, which is for Catholic women who cover and who feel called to plain dress, like the Amish (I didn't know they existed either). They offer up the pain of being noticed in this manner, of being mistaken for Mennonite or JW or some other conservative fundamentalist group, knowing in their hearts that they are trying their level best to follow the Scripture and live according to the immemorial traditions of the Church, even if that amounts only to a trough of irrelevance in today's day and age.

And so my agonizing dilemma goes...should I wear makeup, or shouldn't I? Should I wear my hair up every day or shouldn't I? Is it OK to wear pants around the house, or do I need the "feminizing" influence of a skirt even more when I'm inside? I really sympathize with those of you who just don't get the whole emphasis on "appearance." "Why are you spending so much time and energy worrying about it?" they wonder.

You know, I sometimes wonder the same thing. I guess it's like when you examine Christianity for the first time, and you realize that you're going to have to change everything about your life. And yet, what you've found is so beautiful, that you know once you've made the changes and are living only for God, that you'll be more at peace than you've ever been, you'll have more time and energy for Him because you're not being "tossed to and fro on every wind of doctrine."

I guess it's the same with women and the way we dress and present ourselves. Up until now, I've been tossed around when it comes to fashion and I'm tired of it. On the other hand, I don't want to just give up and wear a unisex uniform every day. When you're a stay-at-home, and you don't have all the "outside" stuff to keep you distracted, your soul yearns for beauty, delicacy and all the refined sentiments that women have that help us make a home and a family. When I'm dressed in a feminine manner that is correct for my role, it's like something that was dislocated gets put back into joint. It just feels right.

Here is a nice little run-down on headcovering by Hillbilly Housewife:

http://www.scriptures.hillbillyhousewife.com/beginners.htm

Reader mail (I always wanted to say that!)

2006-10-29T14:44:00.000-08:00

Here is a reader question that recently appeared in the comment box, followed by my response. I think it is a good letter, and that it points out some needed clarifications:

"I read what you wrote, carefully. I have some questions.

1) Where can I find the "Pope test"? Sorry, I read your post
and checked the links, and I cannot find it!

2) Pants: I admit since I converted (first to Christianity in general,
and then to Catholicism) the way I dress has been changing. I am dressing in a
more feminine way (before I used to either dress in shapeless, grayish,
unflattering clothes or in too short skirts and shorts. I avoided colour, also).
I find myself more drawn to long skirts and more feminine pants. But I still
need the pants. When it's raining or cold, nothing can beat the pants. I still
have some pants from "before", which I hate, because they make me seem ugly and
masculine. But the new ones have a feminine, more classic cut. Why do you
believe all pants are not feminine? Why can't they be like skirts: there are
masculine skirts, as the kilts from Scotland or the traditional garb from Apulia
seaweed collectors (Portugal), or the skirts the men from Miranda (Portugal)
wore. Why can't there be masculine pants and feminine pants?"

Hi, I'll try to answer your question, but I'm not an authority, only a housewife :)

1. www.catholicmodesty.com

Standards of Modesty in Dress

Imprimatur dated Sept. 24, 1956

"A dress cannot be called decent which is cut deeper than two fingers breadth under the pit of the throat; which does not cover the arms at least to the elbows; and scarcely reaches a bit beyond the knees. Furthermore, dresses of transparent materials are improper."

The Cardinal Vicar of Pius XII

I just used the phrase "Pope test" as shorthand...thanks for pointing out to me that it needed to be clarified (you mean somebody actually read my blog?? Whoo-hoo!).

2.

a. Only God knows. It's a path He's drawn me to. Without grace, without Scripture, and without the Church, there's really no point in delineating any standards at all. The modern culture just continues to slouch toward Gomorrah, so there's no standards there. Just what won't get you busted. Also check out Deuteronomy 22:5: "A woman shall not be clothed with man's apparel, neither shall a man use woman's apparel: for he that doeth these things is abominable before God." I think some of the gender-bending fashions we've seen in history are the exception, not the rule.

b. I applaud your journey. I think we all get to a point after conversion where we have to listen deeply for God's call and His personal will for our lives. You know He wants you to be Catholic, but what kind of Catholic will you be? Do you know He is calling you to sainthood? That He is calling every person on earth to sainthood? Do you know that when men can see the separation of your legs...it doesn't matter what you're wearing, they are staring at the rear of the woman. Please don't be offended...I try to be a very refined person but sometimes women don't seem to realize that men are so plagued by concupiscence that we are shocked when we find out! I am not saying that men are animals, or that they all want to do this, but they are bombarded all day with things that tempt them to sin. We can help our brothers out by "veiling" our intimate parts.

c. I totally agree about winter!! You freeze, because modern skirts aren't made to keep you warm--you can't fit anything under them. But jeans aren't necessarily any warmer. My advice is, find or make a longish skirt that is cut a bit fuller than "normal" and wear some exercise pants or soft pajama pants underneath. That's what bloomers are, just pants that women wore beneath their skirts to stay warm. And then I daresay you will be warmer than the skintight Levi's club. Also I think a split skirt that is cut very modestly would be appropriate for sporty things. I am a member of a couple of Yahoo groups where we discuss this kind of thing. Some are very modest and never appear unless they're in a skirt, even if they're weeding in the backyard. Some are much more casual, just exploring the concept of modesty and looking to dress more feminine, like you.

You sound like a very earnest and thoughtful person. Pray about it, read some more, think about what God might be calling you to. Thanks for writing and God bless.

The B-team is here!

2006-10-29T13:19:00.000-08:00

Whew-eee!

Thanks to all of you whose patience has finally paid off. I've cudgeled my brain into messing with my blog template, and ...the B-team badge & blogroll are finally UP!

Check out my new links!

Learn about Catholicism!

Have fun surfing the B-teamers' blogs!

I'll be getting another cup of coffee...head hurts...

PS: Any of you bloggers who can give me tips on how to make my blog fancy-er, they're welcome...

How do you deal with JW's?

2006-10-29T12:11:00.000-08:00

I am sorry to report that after my post on how to treat door-knockers in a gospel manner, I hid from some JW's today. I guess I could cop an excuse--my baby is sick, that's why we're home from Mass today, I was upstairs with my toddler helping him go potty--but really I can't say I wouldn't have hid from them if I had no excuse at all. Why? If Catholicism (however unattractive it is in its contemporary form) is the TRUTH, why should I shrink from sharing it? Are there any legitimate reasons?

1. I am afraid of persecution. Yep, you heard it here--I was just afraid. I probably wouldn't balk at a couple of grassroots fundies going around the neighborhood sharing the "good news," but JW's in particular are notorious for being organized, aggressive, and explicitly anti-Catholic. In the literature they left me it showed a picture of a Catholic priest among their image montage exposing "false religion." And when you read it, you can tell that when they say "false religion," what they really mean is the Catholic Church.

2. I am unprepared. I know, I know, after being on an apologetics diet for 1 1/2 years, you'd think I'd be loaded for bear when these guys show up. I know enough to defend the Church in casual conversation with friends and relatives, but I don't feel ready to go up against professional religious salesmen.

3. I don't feel safe with strange men in my house. I have a right to feel safe in my own house, and if Dean's away, that usually means that I don't invite anybody in unless I know them. Maybe I would have been less intimidated if it was a couple of ladies. But they were older, heavyset men in business suits. Eh.

It is important to spread the Gospel, and these days that's my mantra. It's what Christ told us to do, and when I realized I didn't know the gospel all that well, I started keeping an open Bible by my bed, so that when I get ready to go to bed, the words are already staring me in the face.

That's why I've been exploring modesty and headcovering. It's such a powerful witness, and you don't have to say anything. Even if I had just opened the door, my long skirt and hair up probably would have conveyed some kind of witness. Maybe they would have been nicer to me. But there'e so much going on around here and in my head that I just couldn't take the chance.

So I apologize for being an intimidated, unprepared chicken. I really hope those men go with God and stay on the path to His truth, wherever it leads them.

Hallowed Souls All Around Us

2006-10-26T23:36:00.000-07:00

I've been watching a lot of movies lately, since the weather turned. And since I've converted, I'm noticing some Catholic "pearls" that get dropped in here and there by Hollywood. Not many, but a few.

A lot of films try to play with reality. Some are more effective than others. The Matrix, for instance, tried to introduce this idea in a hip, stylish way to the young. Unfortunately such fantasies are unproductive, increasing the nihilism and sense of disillusionment that young people already feel. But after watching A Beautiful Mind again, this time with a Catholic eye, I realize that movies like these do show us glimpses of truth, only they often do so negatively.

John Nash's delusions do harm to his grasp on reality. They get in the way of him living his real life. So by the end of the film he has to ignore them. "It is only in the mysterious equations of love," says Nash at his Nobel acceptance, "that any reason or logic can be found." But what if the opposite is true? What if what the Bible and the Church tell us is actually true: that each person has a guardian angel. Each person has a purpose and a life plan ordained for them by God. We live life, not in a metaphysical vacuum, but in a "cloud of witnesses." Each person has to make a choice: to live out their purpose with God's help, or rejection of God's plan and a spiral into sin. Unlike Nash's retinue of unreal characters, we are surrounded with real persons, who stand by to guide us, to guard us, even to follow our orders.

It will not succeed unless you put on the eyes of faith. As long as you look around and see only walls, you will scoff at the notion of a personal God. But if you pray long enough, a little each day I mean, persevering in prayer and not letting the devil convince you that nobody hears you, you will start to sense little echoes of the supernatural all around you. Read a book about miracles and you will not doubt that every thought or action we take is witnessed immediately and acted upon by supernatural forces. If you're mired in sin, demons rush to do your bidding and solidify your indifference. If you are struggling to be holy, angels breathe on you and transmit your holy prayers and thoughts to heaven. And if you are a saint, then (spiritually speaking) you are "a bulldozer bearing down on a field of marshmallows" to paraphrase Fr. Benedict Groeschel.

It is spiritual warfare to try to be holy in the world. There's really no way to be an "average" Catholic. You are either fighting the good fight or you are aiding and abetting the enemy by your indifference. Remember what Jesus said, "Whoever is not for me is against me." Do you think he is going to look kindly on those of us that are sitting on the fence? It's hard, because the world seems so much more real than the metaphysical realm.You get discouraged, you start to believe that this or that happenstance is a freak incident, another is coincidence. You suffer over something and get angry and depressed, not knowing what it means. The world seems ugly and cold. Then the devil moves in and tries to convince you that the source of your healing, the Church, is really a nasty mess of bad people that you are much better off without. All you really need is yourself, he says. If you could only dispense with all the morons in your life, and do things "your" way, your suffering could at least be palliated, you could insulate yourself from the pain and loneliness you feel.

And then something truly bad happens. Loved ones go to the hospital, enormous bills land in your mailbox and life becomes a round-the-clock of work with no respite in sight. Your mind is filled with the stress of knowing that all the little plans you've built up in your mind, of what you were going to do--provided everything went peachy--are gone. There comes a point when you can't plan, you can't think, you can only react. But once you become physically and mentally exhausted, once you hit that moment of helplessness, when you can't solve all your problems yourself--that's when you go to your knees and God can finally take over.

And then you start to understand how you can have peace that surpasses understanding. Looked at objectively, she should be having a nervous breakdown from all the stress. But there goes the humble little servant of God, trusting in His plan like a child. So she can nurse her children, do the dishes, make the phone calls and dispense the medicine. Even when she doesn't understand how all this is going to come out.

I will watch through the dark til the morning comes

All the light I'll take you through the night to see

A light showing us all love can be

I will guard you with my bright wings

Stay till your heart learns to see

--Will Jennings

Thoughts on Modesty

2006-09-05T16:36:00.000-07:00

Why is it only Catholics that seem to have a problem with "dressing up" for church?

As a convert, I've noticed this from the beginning. "Boy, these people are skuzzy," I thought. "If what they say about the Real Presence is true, you'd think they'd have more respect" (confession has done a lot for me since then!). But my thoughts failed to take any real form until, in my veil-reading, I discovered the concept of Catholic modesty. And while concerns about clothing and appearance may be merely a female proclivity, I think we can all look around us and assess the damage that a wholesale disregard of this virtue has produced. Just look around the next time you attend Mass. Outside church it's even worse. Women are supposed to be "liberated," but when we expose our bodies, we lose our dignity. What's liberated about having to dress like a hooker and then be evaluated on your "hot" factor?

As a housewife, I'm concerned because I place as a priority my own vocational development as well as the moral and spiritual well-being of my family--particularly my sons. As their mother, I am modeling femininity to them. I am saying, "This is what a woman is. This is how she dresses and this is how she acts. The way you treat me and the way your father treats me is how you should treat your sisters and your future wife, as well as other women." And on this point I agree with feminist New Agers: the feminine is sacred. At least it ought to be, in our kids' eyes at least.

I don't think mothers who work are as concerned about this because they're always out in the world. Having to go to work, competing with everybody on every level throughout the day, imbues in us the message that we are where we fit into the pecking order. Clothing is a visual language that tells other people, "Hey, I'm with it. Check me out. I've got the latest shoes, and my handbag isn't too behind the times. I'm committed to this job and I deserve that raise." Imagine a Mennonite woman working in an office. Just doesn't compute. Her costume says, "I may be in this world, but I'm not of it." The working woman has to communicate to her employer that her job is her number one priority or she risks losing her paycheck. Her clothing is the most visible and obvious way to do this.

Well, how is modesty defined? Today modesty seems to mean anything that doesn't get you fired or busted for violating indecent exposure laws. But in Scripture, modesty is named as one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit and the Church has, for 1900+ years, held it up as a virtue. Modesty used to mean the universal enforcement of at least an unwritten dress code for women. That dress code included longish skirts or dresses, becoming but not revealing blouses and shirts, and (in the not-too-distant past) a hat or bonnet or headcovering of some type.

The Catholic literature about modesty is some enlightening reading (see links below). I could quote all kinds of stuff from it, but there's just too much--and more easily read by yourself. It all pertains to the dignity of woman, her sacred role as guardian of the home and primary nurturer of children. There are also explicit guidelines as to what exactly a women should be wearing, and these guidelines rule out 85% of what passes for fashion today. I was amused and dismayed by turns as I examined the web sites with their "modesty clothing." "This is so Little House on the Prairie!" I moaned. There were even patterns for bloomers and petticoats!

But then I reminded myself of just how ugly fashion was getting, and how I have almost given up on wearing anything beautiful. I had resigned myself to wearing jeans and T-shirts for the rest of my life because, as a housewife, "Just who and what do I think I have to dress up for?" I even prided myself on "macho" behavior (probably because I was in the military) and being able to compete with men when it comes to coarse language. But I love old movies and period fashion plates, and my "Jane Austen" videotape collection is well-worn. I have also forced myself to wear skirts to Mass because of the crazy outfits people wear. And I'm always glad I did, especially when there's a guy behind me.

So I read voraciously everything I could find on modesty. And I was so convinced by this reading, that I went up to my closet and pulled out everything that didn't pass what I called "the Pope test" (it's in the literature--see below). Then I went down to Goodwill and spent two hundred bucks on things that did pass the Pope test. I emerged looking like a silhouette from the forties, but with modern touches. The look is a little retro, but not Little House on the Prairie. And what is even more important, I felt beautiful.

I did not buy any pants.

Two things I noticed immediately. On coming out of the Goodwill store, I encountered a man in a "wifebeater" tank top and a mullet. When he saw me, he did this sort of double take and automatically opened the door for me. The second thing I noticed was that I stopped carping at my husband. Didn't take any effort at all. Now why should that be? I thought modesty was only about changing my clothing, which I was willing to do anyway, for the sake of my kids. But I discovered that changing my clothes ended up changing my heart, and my marriage--overnight.

My husband is the most wonderful man in the world. I honestly don't think I could have gotten myself a better. But he's not perfect. He's not neat, he's not "healthy," and he's not handy. I'm the one who cleans and reads auto manuals and handles the finances and nags him about his cholesterol. "Oh, if he'd only listen to me!" I'd think. "All his problems would be solved!" The criticizing always hits a crescendo around PMS time when he either sulks or explodes and then I cry out of remorse. Sound familiar? I think the same refrain goes through the head of every fallen woman since Eve ate the apple. But what if we could break the cycle? Could it be possible that when a woman dresses according to her sacred role, it tends to bring out true masculinity in men? Women, what if we could make our husbands be the men we have always wanted them to be by simply putting on a skirt?

Why are there teaching documents from cardinals and archbishops urging women not to wear pants? Because the pants represent a blurring of the sex roles. When a women puts on pants she immediately thinks of herself not in the role of sacred feminine, but in terms of her utility. And then feminism seizes on this and tells her that she can do anything a man can do. Is it any wonder then that the woman feels driven to compete with her husband, along with everyone else?

Can you imagine the Virgin Mary in pants?

Looked at another way, our clothing proclaims to the world where our hearts are. Last week, I went along with my husband to his work site in Vancouver, British Columbia. There is a public, wholesale endorsement of the gay lifestyle there. In one of the brochures in the hotel, there was a pamphlet with tourist destinations within it that included "the vibrant gay and lesbian community." The pamphlet showed a man and woman tourist, but no kids. The front of the pamphlet was an opened zipper with the statement, "Expose yourself to Vancouver, British Columbia." This is where we are headed, gang.

We went to the farmers market there and saw a teenage boy in a dress. Not in drag, but in a dress. What struck me about him was that this was not a joke. He was dead serious, and you could tell that he expected people to take him seriously. The next time someone accuses you of focusing merely on the externals, ask them what they think about men going to job interviews in dresses and expecting to be hired. What does that say about what's inside?

Now how is modesty related to the veil issue? Are they separate? I think they are linked. When women dropped the veil, they started wearing pants and the "battle of the sexes" was on. The veil is a "sign of submission," of the woman to her husband. When women started to drop this sign, it wasn't simply a matter of convenience. It was an act of rebellion. It says, I am no longer going to be subject to any man--and that goes directly against Scripture. And the secular culture is only too happy to back her up on this. "The Church was wrong for 1900 years," it says. "Now you can become who you really are." And let me interject here that I don't believe this passage means that every woman is automatically any man's slave. The Scripture says a woman is subject to her husband, and to her husband only. She is subordinate to him, not all males or anybody else.

Christianity dignified women by lifting them up from the status of slave and giving them the place accorded to the Church by Christ. Christianity offered protection to women, rights and privileges they didn't have in the pagan world. If you have a problem with St. Paul on this, ask yourself whether it is more dignified for a woman to answer to her husband, in private, over whom she exercises the whole of her feminine gifts--or to some indifferent boss in the public square who values her only for her quota of man-hours? Is it more dignified for a woman to submit to the man who needs her most, and has the most to gain from her cooperation, or the corporate moguls and government officials who set social standards far more rigid than anything that prevails in a home?

In the traditional context, the veil is not merely a "sign of submission,' but a badge of honor, and a privilege. When I was promoted in the military and was given the rank insignia to wear, did I complain about how I was to be subordinate to the next higher rank? No! I gloried in my new position, I wanted to learn all about it, and to do right by everyone who happened to be below or above me. And to the angels, the veil signifies that we accept our proper place in the worship of God, just as they do--because the angels cover themselves before God.

Now that 40 years have passed, and the veil has been so completely eradicated, it seems unthinkable for women to willingly respond to an exhortation from the Church about this--even if the hierarchy felt the urge to do so. Where has the Church been through all this? In a tailspin after Vatican II, fighting social phenomena like contraception, abortion, and homosexuality in the priesthood--which was not exactly a position from which to exhort women about something like veil-wearing. The literature cites a few examples from the 50's or the 60's, a cardinal here, an archbishop there--promoting the ideal of modesty and attempting to set some standards. But they are like voices crying in the wilderness.

Anyone with the courage to obey risks becoming socially irrelevant--because in today's society, if you're not going along with the dress, you're not going along with the culture. Secular, unisex, and immodest clothing SHOULD be anathema to Catholic women, but we all want to "go along" with the crowd. It may be ugly, and utilitarian, but it's comfortable and practical, which seems to be the only criteria on which to judge something these days.

However, if a Catholic woman wants to take the virtue of modesty seriously, she must consider the veil a part of the package. Covering a woman's hair has ALWAYS BEEN DONE in Christian societies. It wasn't until the 20th century that women started to buck the tradition. Now am I talking just at Mass, or all the time? Well...that is a whole other can of worms. I haven't found definitive information yet from the Catholic perspective, but I have found a few Protestant/evangelical/fundamentalist sects which exhort and defend the practice of veiling at least for worship and some of them all the time, based on St. Paul's passage in I Corinthians. There is very strong Catholic evidence that the veil is to be worn at Mass--it just seems to be ignored by everyone. I haven't found a jot of support in Catholic circles for veiling outside of Mass, however. I am still looking, so check back for updates.

Some sites to check out:

http://www.catholicmodesty.com
http://catholicplanet.com/women/index.htm

and you can jump off from there...

Bob the Bummer

2006-08-25T15:22:00.000-07:00

The last time we gave money to OPB, they cancelled my favorite show. I was so mad, we took a long hiatus from watching any public programming. I mean, it just feels like a betrayal, because they always take something good and replace it with something stupid or just ruin it.

Take Bob the Builder. At first, I thought it was a little too "cutesy" and simplistic, especially the refrain, "Can we fix it? Yes we can!" The show centers around Bob and Wendy and their crew of construction vehicles that all have names and personalities and even hang-ups. Bob goes around doing construction jobs for the community, with no job being too small. Every member of the community has Bob on the payroll, it seems, and there's no lack of business from the mayor. So every show is a pack of three mini-episodes following Bob and the gang on their latest job, interacting with various other characters, and solving every problem with a mixture of teamwork and serendipity.

I quickly got over my first impression that Bob was a dippy show, however. Soon I began to appreciate the jerky stop-action animation, the cute animals and the anthropomorphic machines. There was an innocence about the show, that transcended bills and permits and contracts to show a simple world without sin, in which everyone worked together for the good of all. One time there was a segment oriented purely at the parents, who were told that, "By learning how to solve problems together, children learn to work together as a team." That was the extent of any overt messages in the show. Although Bob occasionally interjected that such-and-such was a salvageable material that should be reused, or mentioned "green" building methods from time to time, the main thrust of the show was fun, friends, and problem-solving. I got hooked on it, and for the last few weeks, Bob has been the high point of many hectic mornings.

Until now. I may be late to the scene--apparently Bob the Builder has been on for awhile--but after the first season of the show, the focus shifted. Bob and his team have been given a new mission: to develop picturesque Sunflower Valley into an environmentally-friendly community. The new focus was pitched in a full-length episode featuring an architectural contest in which Bob's green utopia was pitted against an ugly mass of skyscrapers. Bob wins the contest, to the relief and enlightenment of all, and is awarded the task of making his vision come alive. During the episode, Bob is what he usually is not--a man on a mission. No more civic redecorating or barn-raising for him! This is a real job. At several points in the episode, he even had all the vehicles chanting "Reduce, reuse, recycle! Reduce, reuse, recycle!" I almost choked on my coffee in annoyance.

Now each mini-episode consists of Bob alone in the wilderness, building his dream one step at a time, while delivering homilies on environmentalism to his captive audience of adoring machines. While Carl still enjoys the show, it's been ruined for me. Now instead of drifting briefly into fantasy land, chuckling over the townspeople's small foibles and unintentional bits of comedy, I'm having this environmentalist agenda shoved down my throat. Even the PC-ness of Sesame Street isn't stressed this much. It's bad enough that children can't just have fun anymore (everything having to carry an "educational" message), but the new, unmistakably political, tone of the show is cruel.

How so?

It's cruel to take a child's little memories and pleasures and twist them to reflect the agenda of some adults who just happen to be in charge and stand to profit from forcing their agenda. You can practically see some producer cackling with glee in anticipation of his next promotion, and some committee of writers sitting around going, "Well, what can Bob say about protecting the environment today? Who cares...somebody brew another pot of coffee and we'll spend 30 seconds chanting Reduce-Reuse-Recycle again." This is not to say that I'm against protecting the environment. It's just that "protecting the environment" has become the mantra of liberals, covering up their real agenda of killing human beings through abortion and euthanasia. They took a sweet little story and turned it into a half-hour long commercial for their platform.

It's cruel to eradicate every last vestige of imagination from television, especially when PBS gets public money to fund programs for poor children which should go toward something besides inculcating an ideology. "Wait a minute, it's just recycling," you point out. "Who can argue with that?" Nobody can. That's the point. It's the camel's nose in the tent, pitched at two-year-olds to soften them up for more propaganda once they get into the schools, where recycling bins proliferate and common sense goes out the window. And even if you don't agree with that, you'd think that there would be a better way than to take a good show that had good writing and production value and turn it into a platform of talking points.

Finally, it's cruel to all the rest of us who live in a diminished world, a world that has sold its birthright--the faith delivered once by Jesus Christ to the saints--for this mess of pottage: a world of paranoia and pornography, of political correctness and contraception, of anti-religious totalitarianism and casual killing. It's cruel to destroy every oasis of joy there is to be had in this howling wilderness, in which human beings exist only to use and be used, and children are simply pawns to be won to one agenda or another. Like the world, Bob has become boring...and that's a real bummer.

Be Nice to Knockers

2006-06-22T08:06:00.000-07:00

And now, for a word about door-to-door solicitations.

DISCLAIMER: In taking up this topic, it is not my wish to alienate anybody who simply does not give to any unsolicited requests for donations as a matter of principle. I quite understand this sentiment, as I make it a rule never to commit money over the phone unless I'm the originator of the request.

What I'm after is finding a method of dealing with them that not only does justice to both parties involved, but that harmonizes with Christian, and especially Catholic, principles. I will also not be talking about those solicitations you get over the phone, partly because I have a rule for not giving to them, and partly because elements of the strategy below will also work with phone solicitors.

But doorknockers are a special category, since they are people, and people by definition have souls--souls which you should be interested in saving. Now I'm not talking about handing out tracts, stumping for the Church, and asking them whether they want to go to Mass with you. That would be termed, popularly, as the evangelical approach. What we're talking about here is something subtle, human, practical, and very Catholic, that anyone can do without feeling embarrassed or apologetic about it.

Therefore, doorknockers are a special problem--and a special opportunity. They are also in-your-face unavoidable, and you can't exactly slam down the phone after making pretend static noises and get away with it. You have a commission from God to spread the Gospel, in whatever form you can, even if it means just not being a jerk. Here are some methods I've used that do not pass the test:

1) PRETEND TO NOT BE HOME. This does not work. Either I end up skulking in the bathroom, feeling like an idiot, or the two cars in the driveway and the shrieking toddler give me away. One time the "solicitors," two little neighborhood boys, peeked in our front window, and I was indignant enough to give them a dressing-down for it. Then I felt like a mean idiot.

2) PUT UP A SIGN. This does not work because in order to make the sign effective, it either has to be SO LARGE that all your neighbors can see it from across the street, and thus becomes a real eyesore--as well as making you look reclusive and inhospitable--or it is so small as to be easily ignored by the doorknocker. I once created a sign that I could put up in the window as needed, in lieu of opening the door, but this approach creeped me out, as well as the doorknockers (from what I gathered of the looks on their faces). The effect was, "Help, I'm a prisoner in my own home! Call the 6 o'clock news!"

3) GET RID OF THEM. This involves opening the door, listening to them just long enough to get a word in edgewise, and then declaring your disinterest and slamming the door in their faces. This approach is so repugnant that it not only drives people to use methods 1) and 2) above, but it doesn't always work because you are not always close to a door. For example, today's encounter happened while I was out front mowing the lawn.

4) THE PAYOFF. Let them get their spiel out, squirm a little bit and dig around for a buck or two just to get them off your property.

OK, so how do we deal with these people in a humane and Christian manner?

First, let me say unapologetically that we are on every do-not-call list in existence, and our name is on file with the DMA to not send us all those catalogs. There is nothing wrong with that, in my estimation. Being a Christian does not mean that you must invite an inundation of wasteful, irksome, and sometimes obnoxious marketing attempts. There is nothing wrong with telling people that this is not a good time, their cause is not on your priority list, or that you simply can't afford to add to your charitable donations this month. But you could always consider them for next month. This leads me to strategy #1:

1) SEE THEIR SOUL: The fundamental idea is trying to spread the Gospel to every human being you find in front of you, no matter where you are. So remind yourself that this is a person beloved of God, that he or she has an immortal soul, and "you are the only Bible they may ever read." So quickly pray and ask yourself, "How can I be Jesus to this person?" Not, "What would Jesus do?" but "How can I show the love of Christ and the truth of the Gospel to them, even in just a few minutes?" This necessarily shapes what comes next:

2) LISTEN. Hear them out. Give them a chance to practice their spiel, and try to consider their request. Chances are they're footsore, have been all over the neighborhood, and the rough treatment from some of your neighbors is probably getting them down. You don't have to invite them inside for tea and cookies, but at least give them two minutes of your time. That tells THEM that you truly care about them as a person, even if you aren't buying.

3) ASK FOR MORE INFORMATION. This is the true Gospel test. If you definitely aren't interested, and there's no way you'd ever use that service, tell them politely, smile, and say you're sorry but you hope they have better luck. Practice your manners. BUT if there's any possibility you might use that service, or give to their cause, go ahead and ask some questions. This serves a dual purpose. If you ultimately do not decide to accede to their request, at least you've given them a fair hearing. You may find out about information that interests you but seems unrelated. If you ARE interested in giving or subscribing (or whatever), you need to ask a few more questions simply to verify that you are dealing with a reputable organization, not just a shyster cruising the neighborhood. If they are serious and their organization is legit, they'll be happy to take some time and answer all your questions. Only a crook would suddenly be in a hurry.

4) BE HONEST. I was talking with a DISH satellite sales guy and had come to the point where he was using my phone to inquire about the tax rates attached to the service, and I was reading through the fine print on the contract. The reason I was considering the service was their low promotional rate and the fact that they offered a family package with EWTN, a Catholic cable channel. But the contract was very long, with rigid terms and steep fines if you didn't do everything on the nose. I handed it back to him and said, "I'm sorry. I really would like to do it, I just don't think I can live up to my part of the contract. Sorry to have wasted your time." He was very persistent, but all was polite.

5) BE GENTLE. I don't know quite how to quantify this, but I guess it means that since I started dealing with solicitors in this manner, I've never felt the need to be rude, brusque, or brassy. I always make lots of eye contact, shake hands, and call the person by name. A final note: if there's an opportunity to simply mention my faith in the course of the conversation, I do so. We might be discussing the weather or current events and you could say, "God's in control." Or you could say "Praise God!" if the person relates some good news that seems particularly heaven-sent. "I'll say a prayer for that," can be appropriate if a personal matter enters the conversation. A simple "God bless you," or "Godspeed," as they go on their way will not fall on deaf ears. As an additional note for evangelizing, it occurred to me that I could have a small sign, needlework in the window, or lawn ornament that depicted a blessing, Scripture verse, or saint, so that whoever even knocks on our door will know who we are and what we stand for, and will shape their reaction accordingly.

I mention all this because I did have an encounter today with a doorknocker that convinced me I needed to write all this down. His name was Lawrence, and he volunteers for a missing children's outreach, Operation Lookout. He seemed puzzled by all my questions, but I carefully explained (just being honest) that we have a lot of solicitors come through and I wanted to know who I was dealing with before I donated. I gave him $12 and he gave me a nifty calculator (which, as a tightwad, I use frequently). I had him check over my pepper spray key chain and he gave me some info about that, and he mentioned as an aside that he fixed houses up and rented or sold them. Now I wish I had asked him for some advice on remodeling, but he seemed like he needed to go. But all in all I'd say I got a good deal.

Godspeed, Lawrence.

It's a Blaine Shame

2006-06-14T22:53:00.000-07:00

Whenever current events are concerned, I always tell people that I'm behind on the news--unless it's something of 9/11 proportions--because news in general really stresses me out and depresses me, so I avoid it.

But I am usually not 130 years behind.

It was about that long ago that a certain Henry G. Blaine introduced an amendment to the Federal Constitution that would forever ban any revenues from the government going to support "sectarian" institutions--e.g., Catholic schools. He was taking advantage of a particularly strong current of anti-Catholic feeling among Protestants and "nativists" (those who objected to the hordes of unwashed Catholics showing up on their shores). Well, the amendment failed by only 4 votes, and Blaine wasn't even there to vote on it. But that's not the end of the history lesson.

Since the failure of the "Blaine Amendment," 38 states went on to adopt versions of this legislation in their state constitutions. Adoption of Blaine-syle legislation was, in fact, often a condition of acceptance into the Union for western states. Since controversy surrounding the immigrant problem has faded, so has public memory of the legal veracity of these laws--but they remain on the books. In fact, since they were written using rather general terms (referring to "sectarian" institutions and "religious" purposes, rather than singling out Catholics by name), they are now being interpreted ever more broadly in accordance with the current trend of scouring public schools and spaces of religious references. But the fact is that these laws are unconstitutional--and the Supreme Court knows it.

The legal fallacy these laws fall under is called "religious gerrymandering." Kyle Duncan, in a paper written for Columbia Law School in 2003 (http://law.bepress.com/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1044&context=expresso) points out that, while it is allowable that government might make a law for the general public good that incidentally infringes on the religious practices of some, it amounts to legalized persecution to allow public goods and services to be allotted to the general public while excluding groups that have expressly religious purposes, simply because they are religious. For instance, just because the Federal Government prohibits polygamy does not mean that they are trying to persecute Mormons. The law applies to everybody equally. However, when the State of Washington says that a blind man can't use his state-allotted funds to study to become a minister--simply because, as a minister, he believes the religion--disqualifies him, under the Washington State Constitution, to receive the funds (Witters v. Comm'n for the Blind). Witters was singled out, just because he was religious.

"But wait a minute," you say. "Isn't that just separation of Church and State? I don't see the problem here."

The problem is that the law excludes religious purposes and institutions specifically and exclusively. Said another way: the law treats all citizens equally under the law except where it excludes a certain group precisely because they are religious. Let's say 10 blind people apply to the state for funding for higher education to pursue another career. The state looks over their declared majors: Biology, Computer Science, Music, Teaching, Theology, Master of Divinity, Comparative Religion, Basket-weaving, Forestry, and Criminal Justice. "Hm..." says the state official. "These all look OK except Theology and Master of Divinity. Now, Master of Divinity is right out, since that is a career path leading to the ministry, and we have a law on the books that says nobody can use our money who actually believes in their religion. What about the Theology major? Let's call him up and ask if he actually believes in any specific religion, or if he simply wants to study religion in the abstract, like the Comparative Religion major. If he doesn't believe, it's OK. If he does, then that counts as furthering a religious or sectarian institution and he can't have the funds." Now, if you can come up with a clearer-cut case of discrimination, I'll brew the coffee.

Here's another example. A religious group, wishing to practice a religious rite involving animal sacrifice, finds themselves the object of hasty animal-rights legislation that penalizes their religious activity while allowing the general industry of meatpacking to go on. It's OK for everybody else, except the religious group--because they want to do it as part of their religious practices. Now, if you were to flip these situations on their backsides, and say that it's OK for Mormons to have polygamy, or African cults to sacrifice animals, or blind divinity students to receive public funds, but no one else--these would all be violations of the Establishment Clause. The law can't single out religious groups for certain favors not extended to everyone else, but neither can they withhold resources that are commonly available simply because the applicant is religious or intends to use his share of the resources for religious uses.

On the contrary, the First Amendment Free Speech and Non-Establishment clauses tend to uphold the equal rights of all citizens to have access to benefits generally available to everyone, without regard to their religious affiliation. Hence, the state can't deny welfare benefits to Muslims because they're religious. Schools can't let any kind of club under the sun use their facilities while prohibiting religious clubs from enjoying the same privilege. The Supreme Court has actually developed quite a clean record of respecting people's religious freedoms, when they get the chance. However, at the State level, violations abound as many State Blaine-style laws go far beyond the FS/NE Clauses, as the Witters cases demonstrate.

So now you have the background, I can plainly name the elephant in the room. Thanks to Mr. Blaine and a century of legislative fox-trotting, public money is being kept out of the hands of people who actually want to exercise their religion freely. Catholic parents who want to send their children to Catholic schools are effectively taxed twice when they are denied the option to use whatever portion of public resources is theirs to educate their children in a way that is in line with their religion. Instead, they have to fork out ever-increasing tuition fees on top of their taxes in order to educate their children as conscience dictates. They are singled out in a silent way, since the money is taken out in taxes and no justification is ever advanced as to why they cannot participate equally in the educational benefits doled out by the state.

How do Catholics deal with this? Sadly, many Catholics have few options but to send their kids to public schools. Some can pay for private education if mom works. Some can't even do that. The home-schooling movement appears to be flourishing--for now--but isn't a viable option for everybody. The net result of the current system, I believe, tends to reinforce religious indifference for the Catholic. Catholic parents I've spoken to seem to put an unofficial "cap" on their family size when they get to the point where anxiety sets in about how they're going to pay for a proper Catholic education. The problem is that, while wanting to be good Catholics who educate their children in accord with Church teaching, they end up in a contraceptive mentality that dictates family size in accordance with perceived future costs--which is not Catholic teaching at all.

Our Sacrifice of Praise

2006-05-31T13:10:00.000-07:00

This morning I got up and, immediately starting to rush because I was late, told myself I'd skip Morning Prayer and just say the morning offering. "After all," I reasoned. "It's not as if I've been getting much out of it lately. Might as well take a break." Then I started brushing my teeth.

A thought occurred to me. A still, small voice said, "Since when is prayer all about you? Weren't you just reading last night that we have an obligation to God to offer praise to Him, since it was He who made you, and it is to Him that you owe all you have and are?" That stopped me in my tracks. I was indeed reading about that, last night, in Radio Replies. It said that religion is man's duty to God, since he did not make himself, God did. Every tribe, civilization, and nation since the beginning of time has had religion of some sort or another. Man instinctively knows he owes worship to God. If he denies it, he has to work against his natural inclination, convince himself through rationalization that either God does not exist, or if He does, then we don't owe anything to Him.

Hm. I continued brushing my teeth. The voice kept talking. "And isn't prayer really your substitute for doing the good works you are always saying you're going to do? You are too occupied at present to do them, so you offer prayers up instead for the weak, poor, starving, sick, and dying. Are you going to stop that now, that it isn't 'doing anything' for you?" "Uh..." I thought. "And what about the universal Church?" the voice continued. "That you are always saying you care about, and would like nothing better than to see put to rights. The Office has always been about that. Are you going to leave your duty to that, too? That is, until your prayer life starts to do more for you?"

I was shrinking inside. I looked over at the picture of Jesus I keep on the wall, remembering words from spiritual works I had read about how Jesus aches for souls, how he hungers and thirsts for our love. If I can't throw myself down before the Blessed Sacrament, I tell myself that I will at least say these prayers. And, saying them, I am not doing this for myself, like I would do a yoga class. It is about God's due.

This whole conversation--this fabric of prayers, thoughts, and feelings that I feel connects me with God from day to day--must be nourished by something. If you want to lead a holy life, you must have power. You cannot do that in and of yourself. However, God also must receive his due. You must do for him, even when you don't feel like it. Even when it isn't really "doing anything" for you. That's what makes it a sacrifice, and even more precious in His sight.

My Screed on Abortion

2006-05-23T15:39:00.000-07:00

Consider this scenario: My toddler, full of energy and happiness, thinks that putting his hand on the stove burner is a good idea. Horrified, I move to stop him, resulting in a temper tantrum from him because I denied his "choice."

Illogical? Just plain mean? Or the compassionate response of a loving mother who knows what's best for her child? I think you would answer the latter. And yet, the abortion debate is full of such scenarios as these, in which the toddler is given his way for the sake of "choice." If the logic of abortion were used in any other arena, its arguments and methodology would not stand for an instant.

Driving down the highway today, I notice a pro-abortion bumper sticker that said, "If you will not trust me with a choice, how can you trust me with a child?" I stared at this sticker, and tried to figure out on what planet this would be a logical statement. Leaving aside the euphemistic and imprecise nature of this term, "choice," for a moment, I have to emphasize that what they mean when they say "choice" is KILL THE CHILD WHILE IT'S IN THE WOMB AND NO ONE WILL KNOW. Obviously, someone cannot be trusted with a child if there's a chance that they might kill that child. And if "choice" is simply another name for killing the child, well, they cannot be trusted with a choice, either. That's what CPS, adoption, and foster parents are for.

Frankly, murder is just not a moral option when you're faced with an "unplanned" pregnancy. And if you don't think abortion is murder, I hope you run into one of those disgusting pictures of a tiny murdered aborted child. And I hope you throw up.

The Desert of the Real

2006-05-19T23:06:00.000-07:00

The Catholic concept of "the desert" is one that fascinates me. I first heard it mentioned by Saint Therese of Liseux, in her spiritual autobiography, Story of a Soul. Beginning with the Desert Fathers, a few monks chose to separate themselves as hermits, ascetics who lived in wastes considered uninhabitable by their cloistered cohorts. Throughout the history of the Church, as life in a consecrated community became more worldly, various renewal efforts (spearheaded by such saints as Theresa of Avila) drew on this tradition of going to "the desert." To purify oneself spiritually, renounce worldly temptations, and subject oneself to the suffering that was unavoidable in such a deprived environment--was seen as a path to holiness.

St. Therese thought of her entrance into the Carmelite convent as "going to the desert."

Sometimes I think of my life in these terms. As a woman, I feel my identity springs from my vocation as a wife and mother. But while some might think that life as a lay person is less challenging and less spiritually rich than the monastery, I beg to differ. Our opportunities to grow in holiness are limited only by our capacity to endure suffering. And there is just as much suffering available in the life of the housewife as there is anywhere else. Dust and dirt, aches and pains, and countless little sacrifices make up the rocks and sand of my desert.

Many times during the day I tell myself to stop feeling so sorry for myself. I have everything I could possibly want, and yet I find myself wanting more. After doing heaps of laundry, I want more clothes. After dusting shelves of books, I want more entertainment. After forgetting about all the people I've promised to call, I feel lonely and complain that I have no friends. More than anything I feel the lack of time. I seem to have all the time in the world--sheesh, she's a stay-at-home-mom, what in the world does she do all day?--goes the refrain in my head. But I know that my time has severe limits on it. Every fifteen minutes I have to make decisions like, "Gosh, I'm really hungry, but if I water the roses NOW, I can get it done before the baby gets up and maybe I can grab something to eat while I nurse him." Or: "Man, I wish I could get my hair cut and look a little more up-to-date, but I've got so many things in my schedule, I can't possibly fit in a pleasure jaunt just for me." Or: "My writing is so neglected I should at least find half an hour to write SOMETHING, but if I were to do that, I'm giving up sleep that I need to NOT be a monster to my kids tomorrow."

The desert is suffering. It is the pain of loss--not necessarily loss of life or limb, or even the loss of comfort--but loss of the sense of limitlessness that our culture offers up and commercializes as if it were candy. Take a trip to Maui, it says. Try our new camera phone. Treat yourself to dinner. Live a little. Believe in yourself. Achieve your potential. You, you, you. It soothes us with an endless murmuring lullaby of self. My sacrifice, my penance, my path to holiness, as it were--consists in resisting the pull of that voice. Every time I can say no to it I achieve a spiritual victory. But I am often left feeling dry and somewhat deflated.

Then the little self-pity voice starts again. "You are giving up so much. You are such a good mother. Surely you'll achieve sainthood for this. Oh, don't worry about that little indulgence there. God will understand. You're only human. After all, how many people do you know who make all the little sacrifices you do? How many people are blessed with these insights? You ought to write them all down, you know. Then one day people will read what you wrote and quote it and you'll be acclaimed as a great mystic." Then I have to turn away from that voice, and so it goes...

That's the real reason I haven't been writing. The struggle is demoralizing. And I don't know if I could even "cut back" on the many things that seem necessary at any given moment. As soon as a thing appears to be unnecessary (or I discover time-savers and more efficient ways of doing things), I might try. But I think one of the consequences of original sin is not only pride and envy, but also a disordered sense of time. The truth is that there was NEVER a time that was less hectic, or more easy-going. In my life, or even in history, I think.

When I think about my life right now, there's a line in The Matrix that comes to my mind: "Welcome to the desert of the real." The movie is about discovering what's behind the illusion that our lives are composed of. I can agree with a lot of the movie's aspects, except the idea that a lot of soulless machines are behind it all. I believe, instead, that God is behind it, but sometimes the illusion is so compelling that many people can't imagine there is a God, much less that he cares about us as individuals.

My struggle is trying to pierce that illusion, even if only once a day.

Triumph: A Book Review

2006-02-20T22:06:00.000-08:00

Every history has an agenda. For example, in a college class our history instructor had picked a textbook all about "the worker." The book detailed the strikes and riots and printed excerpts from the workers' songs and newsheets. I thought it all very interesting--until I found out that our beloved professor was a card-carrying member of the American Communist Party.

My point is that, while a book like Triumph: The Power and the Glory of the Catholic Church was, in a sense, MADE to be dismissed by the academic trendsetters of modernity as a pointless anachronism, it nonetheless differs in no way from any other history on the market in its adoption of an agenda. One gets the sense that, like the workers' textbook, Triumph exists not only to vindicate the Church's role in history, but also to put that role in its proper perspective--a perspective that is often buried under an avalanche of anti-Catholic prejudice.

The book is a blast of fresh air in a room stuffy with the secondhand smoke of the Protestant Reformation. For the first two-thirds, I could hardly put it down. Harry Crocker gallops through history with all the skill and virility of a Crusader going at full tilt--without missing any of his targets. The years whip by so quickly, it seems the darkness of paganism lurks just beyond the streetlights of the modern European state. The ancient barbarism of the Germanic tribes seethes beneath Hitler's triumphant Reich. Italy is a land of ancient rivalries and modern political chaos, Mafiosi-style. Spain is a noble woman who, after having been knocked down a few too many times, is ruthless in her pursuit of an idyllic Catholic state. And the enduring zealotry of the French turns to nightmare during the Revolution, when all truth seems to die.

Indeed, once the whiplash caught up with me, things had gotten so bloody that I had to put the book down and accept a dark truth. Things were not getting any better. Despite all our claims of "progress," the 20th century saw more blood shed in the name of atheism than in any of the wars over religion. Persecution of the Church hadn't gone away--it had increased. In the first few years of Stalin's reign, hundreds of thousands of Catholics simply disappeared. Four million Catholics perished alongside the six million Jews during the Holocaust. More than ever, the Pope seemed to be a lone voice crying out in the wilderness for justice, for peace, and for the dignity of man. And yet never was an institution more ruthlessly attacked.

Throughout the Church's history, with the deadening predictability of death and war, priests and religious have been martyred, exiled, marginalized and penalized in every conceivable way. Church property has been seized, smashed, and sacked in every age. Catholic lay people, women and children, have been dragged from their homes and slaughtered. Soon the truth starts to build in the back of your mind that, if the things that people say about the Church--that it's a man-made institution that simply exists because of a consolidation of power--are true, then history needs to be hidden from view, because it tells a much different story. How can it be that priests, monks, and female religious would put themselves on the front lines, set themselves apart in a highly visible and controversial fashion, in age after age, if they were simply the dupes of a power-hungry papal dynasty? As a matter of fact, no dynasty, no nation, no tribe, and no dictator has ever existed as long, and in the same essential form, as the Catholic Church.

Crocker doesn't pull any punches--all the papal pecadilloes are here. And yet, while littered with pragmatist popes and overzealous generals, the history of the Church is still the history of Western Civilization. For centuries, the papacy was the axis around which Europe turned and--after the rise of the nation-state--the lodestar to which the Western world looked as its man-made institutions began to crumble. Amid internal strife and invasion, it was the Popes who kept the peace--often with their own armies--upholding the transcendent concept that there was a Power above kings and nobles. As each new heresy threatened to split the fabric of society, consecrated men and women stepped from the shadows to preach, to admonish, and to purify the Church that they loved. And we are reminded that it is ultimately the influence of the Church that brought King John to Runnymede to sign the Magna Carta, and it is those same principles of liberty--"the traditional rights of Englishmen"--which are enshrined in our own Declaration of Independence.

The paradox of the Church is that she could be so great, and yet filled with men who appear weak, sinful, and at times--antithetical to the Church's raison d'etre. So many people look at the facts about the Church and ask, "How can this be the church of Jesus Christ?" I submit that after reading this book, one can draw only two conclusions. Either the author has been entirely disingenuous, or we may have to admit that there is no way that any institution of merely human origin has survived for so long and still remains.

This is the Church of Jesus Christ. Sometimes she looks weak, sometimes ridiculous, and always like a flame that wavers as if about to go out. Men have sought to annihilate her in every age, but the gates of Hell have never prevailed over Christ's Bride. Chock-full of sinners as a hospital is of the sick, the Church remains, with arms open wide with mercy--because She is the path, the narrow way...even the foolish-looking way.

I am reminded of the Donatists who, in the time of Augustine in the fifth century, maintained that he who had collapsed under torture and denied the Church should not be readmitted to the sacraments because they would make the Church impure. St. Augustine, who for love of his Lord strove to heal the breach, preached peace and mercy to them:

"Nothing in you do we hate, nothing detest, nothing denounce, nothing condemn, except human error. We repeat, we detest human error from regard for divine truth, but we acknowledge all of God's graces [sacraments] in you, while whatever in you has gone astray we would correct....The stray is the one I would seek out, find, admonish, approach, take by hand, and lead, correcting the deserter, not defacing his divine image" (Willis 109).

My Continuing Fascination with Judge Judy

2006-02-09T22:20:00.000-08:00

Thought I'd have a light television moment. Since football season is over (leaving me at the mercy of American Idol and ads for grisly new crime shows), I'm getting nostalgic for the show that brings me all the drama and pathos of the low life, without all the viewer discretion. Now, obviously this is TV and even "reality" shows don't have much to do with reality, but the parade of cases on Judge Judy is so reflective of our national mood and the general level of morality, etiquette, and interpersonal relationships that it makes an interesting cultural study. Plus, I just love Judy.

For those unfamiliar with Judith Sheindlin herself, she's a real retired family court judge, but her court isn't a real court. The litigants agree to have Judge Judy arbitrate their claims on national television, and the producers of the show pay out the awards. In fact, Judge Judy is THE successor to The People's Court, which stopped airing in 1993. The other court shows are trying to cash in on her success, but Judge Judy is the real success story here.

Why is she so popular? The winners may come away with money, but rarely their dignity. Judge Judy is the Dr. Laura Schlessinger of the legal world, and both women have as their calling card plain talk and the ability to ferret out the lies and hidden motives of those who come to them, who often end up looking ridiculous. Roomate wars, boyfriend/girlfriend spats, petty assault, harrassment, and the ever-popular "I gave him a loan/No, it was a gift"--everyone's story is heard and vivisected, while it is Judge Judy--"The Ultimate Truth Machine"--whose viewpoint prevails.

In fact, the show wouldn't be nearly as entertaining if her less truthful or prepared litigants didn't get humiliated on a regular basis. You'd better not talk out of turn, or interrupt her. She has no mercy for deadbeat dads, delinquent tenants, careless pet owners, or angry motorists. She tells people what they probably need to hear but that nobody else has the guts to tell them: "I suggest that you get a job." "You are full of baloney!" "If it doesn't make sense, it's not true!" "Are you a lowlife sir?! Yes you are!" And my personal favorite: "You're not the boss, Applesauce!" (I plan to use this line on my toddler.)

Judy's emphasis on the truth is telling. People want justice. If they didn't want it, we wouldn't have shows like this. But nobody is prepared to believe that the incident was THEIR FAULT. She faces an endless parade of the consequences of sin in a world in which no one is willing to admit it exists. It amazes me that a nation which rejects a divine Judge with supreme power to decide big, cosmic issues embraces TV shows about human judges with limited power to settle small claims--and the harsher and more arbitrary the judge, the better. People seem to be eager for humiliation, but not humility. They will confess their sins to the world, but not to God's agent in the confessional. Instead of seeking truth, they seek "The Ultimate Truth Machine."

Of course the show is not reality, and my comparison doesn't go far enough. But if we imagine for a moment just how our cosmic judgment is going to go, it would bear little resemblance to a TV court. There will be no cross-examination, because God knows everything you did. There will be no need for evidence or witnesses. He can see to the heart of all our motives, our excuses, our prideful denials. He can see the times in our lives when we took the right fork in the road and we know we should have taken the left. And there will be no appeal. It is God's viewpoint that will prevail.

What will there be left to say, at that moment, in our defense? The thought may well make us shudder, as it should. How do we know we are on the right path? How do we know that we will be justified before Him? These days there's a truth for sale in every ideology on the market. But shows like Judge Judy are a reflection of an eternal reality--a real Truth. And we should care about finding it.

Much Ado About Life Insurance

2006-01-31T21:46:00.000-08:00

WARNING: Extremely boring post about life insurance follows. Go make some coffee.

Lately I've been obsessing about the fact that we haven't heard back on the application for life insurance for my husband that we filed more than a month ago. As a Catholic mother intent on growing her family, I've had waking nightmares about cleaning houses at night in order to feed our (five, six, nine?) kids, in the event my husband dies "prematurely" (Why it wouldn't be EVEN MORE of a nightmare for him if I should die, one usually doesn't speculate. It's always assumed that the husband dies first.) This causes me to wonder, "Is it an utter disaster if we can't get life insurance?"

Insurance salesmen will tell you that you NEED term life insurance if you have kids. In fact, they will tell you that most husbands are underinsured, most wives are uninsured, and that you need more insurance than you think--at least five times your income. What they won't tell you is that you don't need as much money to survive the death of your spouse as they say.

This needs hard-eyed analysis, because many Catholic families are tossed on the dual horns of a financial dilemma: the calling to raise up (and educate) saints for Christ, and the expenses that seem to be non-negotional necessities for raising families in a materialist world. One of these non-negotiables is term life insurance--hence my anxiety.

So let's examine this. First, what is the purpose of life insurance? You are considering a policy that costs, say, $500 a year for 20 years, for a total of $10,000. You are buying the assurance that you will have $250,000 in financial help in the event of your spouse's untimely death. The odds are against your spouse's early death, or they wouldn't sell you the policy. At what other time in life would you lay down money and gamble on not winning? In contrast, $10,000 in your bank account, or invested in CDs, is a sure bet that you will still have your $10,000, or more, regardless of what happens. But would that be enough?

Let's examine the costs a life insurance disbursement is designed to cover:

1. The mortgage. This is usually the first expense out of a life insurance salesman's mouth. But, practical housewives that we are, is it really conceivable that, in the event of your husband's death, you are going to attempt to maintain the same lifestyle you did when your husband was alive? Of course not. You take advantage of the denial stage of grief and move into cheaper lodgings. "But what about the memories?!" Prepay your mortgage and you won't have to worry about this problem.

2. The burial. This one costs less, is more obvious, and is actually necessary. A decent burial in a Catholic cemetery will probably run you at least $5,000. If you have no employer-sponsored life insurance or other savings, there are less expensive insurance policies that are designed to cover just this. Or, if your husband was in the military, they will bury him for free. Plus you get a flag.

3. The income. This is also a necessary expense, but let's be real. Life insurance is only there to provide a stop-gap to get you over the hump of losing your main income. It is not there to make you rich. It is not there to last forever. Eventually, you are going to need to line up another plan for supporting your family. Your judgment on how long that will take determines how much life insurance you should be buying.

4. College. Why do life insurance salesmen bring this up? I contend that this one is a boogeyman designed to make parents sweat. There are more and better ways to get through college than counting on your dad to die.

There may be other expenses, but these are the biggies. You need peace of mind, the salesmen say. And in a purely materialist sense, if this is the only way to get it then you need the insurance. But as Catholics, we don't put our trust in policies, we put it in God (it even says that on our money). Remember, all the "security" in the world couldn't save Job. He still lost everything. And until he learned to trust God, he didn't get anything back, either.

On the other hand, if you hang onto your $10,000, you've still got $10,000. And if you buy the policy and your husband DOESN'T die, you're out $10,000. If he DOES die, $10,000 may not sound like much compared to $250,000, but it makes a big difference how you spend that money. The $250,000 might run through your fingers like water, while the $10,000 becomes seed money for a business intended to support you and your family, or it pays for vocational training so you can get a good job to support your kids. The more I think about it, the more life insurance sounds like a scam perpetrated on people who think they can't afford to have a spouse die, but who pay anyway--when they would have been better off setting a little money aside.

So what's the solution? Briefly, let me outline my plan. As long as Dean is working, he can get some amount of life insurance through his employer at little or no cost. To handle the problem of transitional income I would, right now, make a six-month emergency savings account my highest financial priority. Common sense tells me that unless I lose all my faculties, I will be able to provide for my children in some capacity, with the help of God's providence. And if it did happen, I would move to an area with the highest concentration of sympathetic relatives.

So do we really need life insurance? Or are we just buying a feeling? Are we not, in fact, buying a kind of peace that we ought to get from God?

"As for you, do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not worry anymore. All the nations of the world seek for these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these other things will be given you besides. Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom" (Lk 12:29-32).

UPDATE: Since writing this post, I have gone through some seldom-suffered writer's remorse. Of course, jettisoning a life insurance policy you already own is not a good idea, and there is no guarantee that God is going to "make it good" because you failed to make this provision for your family. I guess I was just trying to make myself feel better in the event that we absolutely could not get life insurance (BTW, we did finally get the policy!).

Toddler Insanity

2006-01-21T11:57:00.000-08:00

I have become what I never thought I would be: the mother of two who, at the ripe old hour of eleven in the morning, has yet to bathe, or eat a hot meal, or bother to clean up her place because she knows it will just get messed up again and therefore is not a good use of her time.

What happened? Up until now I would have said that I was proud of my ability to keep my house clean, cook from scratch, and take care of quasi-obedient kids. But somewhere in the last week, more of my cherished illusions of Super-Stay-at-Home-Motherhood have fallen. In the last ten days, my toddler has managed to turn my world upside down on an almost daily basis.

Last week he broke my new glasses, handing them to me like they were a precious gift (as in, "Gee, Mommy, thanks for letting me have this $100 toy. It entertained me for five whole minutes!"). At the beginning of this week, he got a hold of my keys and popped the trunk of my car (on a rainy night, of course, causing me to spend the next afternoon cleaning out the garage just so I could get the car in there to clean it out). And for the grand slam, two nights ago I called 911 because Carl locked himself in the bathroom with a broken light bulb and I was unable to ascertain whether he had swallowed any of it (unable to think is more like it), which turned out to be a FALSE ALARM, but not before we wound up in the emergency room. I called my mother this morning and told her that if I had not already had grey hair, it would have turned white by now. As of this morning he has already pulled all the stuffing out of his Winnie the Pooh bear, pulled all my mixing bowls out of the cabinet, spilled my tea on the carpet, and inspired another adrenalin rush when he screamed so hard his feet turned bright red, all because he had a nasty poop that gave him a rash.

I called my mom to vent. I told her about the glasses. She said, "Well little kids are like little animals. They're opportunists, and they act on instinct. You just have to anticipate what they're going to do." Then I told her about the trunk. "Oh..." she sympathized, laughing. "Well little kids are smart, their brains are developing and you are going to have two sets of eyes on you and everything you do, so if you are pressing buttons, he is going to press buttons." Then I told her about the emergency room visit. "Oh," she said again, sympathetically. "I've been meaning to call you." She stopped pontificating on the human vs. animal nature of children at that point.

Now I could be spending my down time cleaning up the mess, but I thought, "This article will last longer than my next batch of dirty dishes, and Carl will appreciate it more." So Carl, this one's for you.

Insecurity and American Idol

2006-01-21T11:48:00.000-08:00

Americans are self-conscious idiots. Every weight-loss commercial and hair ad reminds us of our flaws. Young girls look at magazines and think they're fat. Older guys look at Viagra commercials and conclude that if they can't get it up, they should just get out. And even if we aren't complete dupes of the advertising moguls, we can't help but absorb the deadening message: you are what you eat/wear/drive/live in. And it is nowhere more apparent that today's youth are absorbing the message than when you watch the audition opener on American Idol.

These poor kids--who fly to whatever city the star-studded judges alight on, wait for hours and hours to get their numbers, then wait hours more to get into a 90-second audition that will most likely spew them out just as Jesus said he would spew out the lukewarm churches--these poor kids, after absorbing years of consumerist messages, have duded themselves up to the nines to impress THE CELEBRITIES. And they look HORRIBLE. I don't know if it's the lens on the camera, or the lights, or what. But when you see America's youth lined up like Holsteins at a cattle show, it ain't pretty.

I call this the Wal-Mart phenomenon. Ever gone into a Wal-Mart and shaken your head at how ugly America is getting? I love to watch old movies because at least those films portray a nation with a sense of dignity. And they didn't have streaky hair or anti-aging highlighting foundation or enough black eye makeup to give a mime nightmares. And I'm not saying there aren't people who would be attractive if they weren't so AWARE of themselves. It gives me the creeps to see a teenage girl trying to look like a Britney Spears clone (at Mass!) when she would be better off wiping most of that stuff off. This is not to say that I have the franchise on natural good looks. But I like to think I know how much is enough and how much will make people stare.

What's behind all this frazzled fakery? Am I just getting old? Is it that I've given up on my thighs and am now absorbing insecurities about my securities? Because that's what the grand ol' machine of the economy does, folks. Its job is to sell fear. And if people aren't buying enough, its job is to sell more. Fears about my looks, fears about my money, fears about my health, my house, my kids, my job, and my personal favorite: OUR NATION'S FUTURE. And since all these fears have mainly to do with ME, I am so wrapped up in them that I don't care about anything else. I don't care about the rise of militant nationalism, or economic coercion, or families that walk days in search of food, or people who are killed because they were on the wrong side of a border. Instead, I care about the expense ratio that might rob our retirement fund of an extra $15,000 thirty years in the future.

I'm not crying conspiracy. There's no cigarette-smoking man in some back room of Congress pulling strings. I just don't believe that. But I do believe in sin. I think it's sin that makes people look ugly. And I'm not talking about people who weren't blessed with symmetrical features--I mean everyone. We all have an ugliness about us that makes us, on a bad, rainy, crappy day, think that everyone and everything else is ugly. The Britney Spears girl is ugly. The rapist guy on the news is ugly. Nick and Jessica on the cover of the tabloids are ugly. And when I look at myself in the mirror, I realize that I'm no different.

What's the antidote to all this ugliness? I'm amazed that the decorative masks people used to wear haven't come back into fashion, because there are days when I sure feel like wearing one. I think the ugliness should remind us that true beauty--which is only hinted at in rain-washed hills and gauzy clouds and the soft fuzz on a baby's cheek--will never be found on this earth. Our soul longs for it, and our inspirations and desires clearly indicate that, since we are capable of imagining it, it must be found somewhere. This has been called an argument for the existence of God. And the argument is compelling, provided we don't confine our notion of beauty to what is found on this earth, and in the aisles of the drugstore.