Check out the animated show Bat out of Hell on Kickstarter!

Archives for August 2006

Godsbody – Yesterday’s [Fake] News Today

Yeah, Casa Lickona fell for this, to the extent that the ol’ family calendar even has a notation on Sunday to go out and look for Mars. (Whose handwriting? Not tellin’.) Thank heaven (as it were) that I’m a lousy parent and forgot to let my chlidren know about this astonishing event. Instead, we attended a fantastic concert given by friends down at the main library (The husband has a new CD out, guitar-lovers.) Then out to pizza, then over to their house for ice cream. Music and food – better than Mars.

End note: I tried, I really tried to keep Third Son from planting himself in front of the House of the Dead game at the pizza joint. But the thing had guns attached. He would not be stopped. “Wanna SHOOT!” Well, of course you do.

(No, I did not actually let him play the thing. He just watched the intro, and pretended to be blasting off zombie limbs. Sigh.)

The Anxiety of No Influence

Or rather, the anxiety of utter and total insignificance. Sorry folks, nothing new today. The dimmest star in the Catholic blogosphere just got a little dimmer. And since People of the Book notes that the blogosphere is doubling in size every 200 days, it shouldn’t be long before the great black empty swallows me up completely. In the meantime, I’ll try to get back to flickering tomorrow.

Lost in translation.

Attached lobe community responds.

Arabian Days

Grandma looks out Daughter-of-Eve’s bedroom window and sees Myself mowing the back lawn.

“Who is that Arabian fellow mowing the lawn?” says she.

Daughter-of-Eve rushes in from the living room and climbs up on her bedside table to spy a look.

“Oh, that’s just Daddy with his shirt on his head.”

And Remember…

The colorization of old movies remains a proof that the mere existence of a technology is not in itself an argument for its use.

Book Meme Redux

JOB has weighed in on the book meme:

“One book you’d want on a desert island. Me too, the Bible: Without Genesis, myth would be whistling in the dark; without the Psalms, sonnets would be hollow; without Macabees, epics would be trite; without Song of Songs, eroticism would be joyless; without Lamentations, elegy would remain frustratingly grave; without the book of Job, faith would be merely existentialism; without Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, the truth would be a cicerone holding a lamp up in the darkness of a tomb…”

Be Careful What You Wish For Dept.

Third Son – the chaos-bringer – is the first two-year-old I have ever encountered who is NOT HELD BY CARTOONS. The others – all neutralized. But he wanders forth, chaos on his mind…

First Son, Justice-Bringer

After hearing a Spanish short story in which a bandit robs and shoots a man with a wife and children, thus condemning the family to starvation that winter. The bandit dies in the end, but First Son was deeply affected by the story:

“I don’t like it that a man can kill a hundred men and then be hanged only once.”

Mercy is no small thing.

The New Victory Garden

Over at Immaculate Direction, Cubeland Mystic recasts the Victory Garden as a means for overcoming “typical Catholic despair”:

“…in the temperate southern states across the US, most folks can plant a cold hardy winter garden starting in mid-September. In the big scheme of things it won’t make a big difference to oil prices, but what it lacks in material value it might make up in symbolic and spiritual value.

Here is a suggestion to consider. Depending on the climate, a winter garden could survive until spring. If done correctly a small plot could yield enough produce to make a nice vegetable soup. Carrots, onions, celery, swiss chard, spinach, broth, and a handful of pasta or beans. Sounds like a simple Lenten meal to me. Perhaps for Lent next spring give up processed food. Replace it with food you grow. I leave it up to you if you think this saves oil or serves as a Lenten sacrifice. But I think it is worth considering. If enough of us do it, it would make a difference.”

Plus, it tastes amazing. We planted a half a dozen different heirloom tomatoes this year – things you don’t find in supermarkets. Amazing, amazing flavors. Russian Black – yum. And gorgeous to behold. Second Son composted the soil, cleared it of weeds, helped in the planting. Watered and weeded. And picked. An excellent project, one which gave satisfaction to him and brought delight to the family.

Across the country, potatoes, dug from the ground at Red Rose Farm, tasted like no potatoes I’ve ever eaten. There was simply more to taste.