Morgan Jane, Doctor of the Church

For Christmas this year, I adopted the plan of buying a Nativity scene for the Y's and giving them one piece a day, ending with the infant Jesus on Christmas. Bubs was the one who really got into this, to the point that I sort of planned the discovery of that day's figure for him. For example, one appeared in the theater dressing room when we were collecting loaned costume pieces from "A Little Hous Christmas". But it seems Morgan was paying close attention as well.

She and Sis were in the garden decor aisle at their home away from home- "Oh! that's the Hobby Lobby- I go there with my mommy"- when she spotted a resin statue of a cherub.

"Mommy! It's Baby Jesus!"

"No, honey, it's a little angel. See, he has wings."

"No, Mommy! It's Baby Jesus, he has curly hair, and his mother is Mary and his birthday is Christmas!"

All with emphatic hand gestures, while the granny next to them is biting her cheek not to crack up at our pint-sized Teresa of Avila.
"Morgan Jane," says her mom "I did not know you were a Bible scholar."

Snippets

Ture confession: how long has it been since I cleaned out the corner cabinet over the drainboard? Let's just say that I found an envelope containing five quarters, which had "Sarah's Lunch Money" written on the outside. And since Sarah wasn't doled out lunch money since the end of middle school, I'm dating this relic around 2003. Yikes.

The Yarbs went to Alabama for Easter to visit Jas's grandmother and his mom, who was staying there with her. Sweet Granny Richards was worried that her advanced age might scare the babies, but Sis was all "Oh, please- they hang out all the time with my grandmother and she's eighty-four!" The highlights of their trip were a family reunion where Bubs, once he got used to the crowd, was the Mayor of Everything, meetin' and greetin' every table and a trip to an uncle's farm. There O surprised everyone by being a fishing fool- though Bubs was the only one to actually catch anything.
We watched the dog for them, which meant that someone went over every four hours to visit with him and let him out for a while- he pines while they're gone and needs the company. And we're soft enough to giiive it to him.

My 'REPEAL" sign has faded in the wonderful rain we've been having, so I need to re-do it with proper white and black paint on a piece of plywood. I will put my handy husband to work on that.

Sarah's new play, a Steel Magnolias-esque estrogenfest about a college swim team, features a director she's never worked with who is a pleasant enough woman, but one of those people who has no unexpressed thoughts. None. Brain to tongue- no stops in between.
One of the cast members, who has worked with this gal, asked Ro if this was her first stage managing job. Ro shared her c.v. with her, who then asked: "Have you ever worked with X (the director)?"
"No."
"Hmmm- do you drink?"

We celebrated V's 60th birthday with a little bar-b-que and cake at home. He got a travel watch for his summer trip and Sis gave him a collage of bluebonnet pictures of the kids. For non-Texans: a bluebonnet photo is a pic of your kids or dog or whoever in a patch of the state flower.
Chi-chi foo-foo photos involve white and pale blue dress-up clothes, classic shots use denim and white. Bandanas may be involved.
Her particular clump of bluebonnets were somewhat damp, which was why she had a hard time getting a good shot of M.J. the Fussy.
'Seriously," she said,"do they make Xanax for babies? You should hear her at night when she can't find her pacifier in bed: 'BINK-EH?! BINK-EH?!? WHERE YOU, BINK-EH?!' We tried the holder attachment, but that just made her freak out: 'BINK-EH STUCK! ARGHHH!'"
"I know it's hard- but just think how proud you'll be of her in twenty years when she graduates Summa Cum Laude from college like her Fan Target."

The electrician came out to replace the entry hall light fixture. We now have a nice bronze and frosted glass chandelier instead of the gold curlique and crystal pendants one that graced us for the last quarter-century. At this rate, we'll have a whole new house, eventually. He also moved the switches for the driveway light and the garage light into the house by the back door- something else we've been thinking about for, oh, the last 25 years.

Speaking of quarter centuries- today is the 25th anniversary of my entry into the Church. Too big a topic to do justice to- let's just say that my gratitude outweighs any struggles and disappointments.

And speaking of the Church, locally; for about 10 years, I attended the local Traditional Indult Mass here. It was graciously hosted for nearly twenty years by the Discalced Carmelites in their chapel in Oak Cliff, though daily Masses were held in several different parishes during that time.
Now, a monastery chapel is not very big and even with two Sunday Masses, folks were crammed in like cordwood. And while I liked the Trad Mass very much, I hadn't any problem with the Mass of Paul VI, especially when it was not celebrated with silly hoo-hah. But back in the beleagured days before Benedict XVI declared that any priest at any time could celebrate the Traditional Mass, if you weren't in a constant state of indignation, you could feel out of place.
So, for a combination of reasons, I stopped going there for several years, except for the odd visit.

But now, after twenty years of prayer and sacrifice and obedience to the bishops, the community has been declared a parish and has bought a former Korean Baptist church, with a rectory, that they are in the process of renovating. And from December to April, their numbers have doubled. Which just proves what we always suspected: many more people would have come, had there just been room for them.
And after several visits and some concentrated prayer, I have decided to move my parish membership there. Being relieved of the constant fight for recognized status had cooled a lot of people off and released that energy for more positive pursuits, which I would like to be a part of.
So we shall see...

Grandpedant

So, Nini was over yesterday and while we were making Outrageous Oatmeal Cookies from Starbucks (cut the salt and cinnamon by half, okay?), we somehow got into a conversation about: economics. And I mean a serious conversation about goods and services and pricing and value and why monopolies are bad. We must have talked about this for fifteen minutes, waiting for the cookies to bake. And if I used lollipops and Littlest Pet Shops instead of guns and butter- she's eight.

In the last year or two, I've noticed in myself a tendency to teach almost all the time I spend with the babies, especiall with Ni, since she's older. Oh, it's not that we don't have fun, and giggle and act silly and tease each other- but I sneak ethics lessons into the doll house and onto the farm and include some sort of life-lesson- gardening, cooking, sewing, cleaning, handcrafting- into our time together. I know to stop when she gets bored- but it's there.

Now, it's not that Sis and Jas don't do this as well- they are excellent parents with good values. But I know I paid more attention to certain things my grandparents taught me, than my mom and dad. And we have the extra time to back them up, that they don't, trying to make a living and bring up three kids.
I think I look back at when our own kids were young, and think of all the things I wish I had known to emphasize, but just didn't, and want to fill in the gaps with the g-kids.

But most of all, I think my motivation comes from the urgency of these scary times- and the conviction that they will have to be so much stronger than I thought my own children would ever have to be to have a life of Truth, Beauty and Goodness.

Snippets

Not complaining, just noting that one of the things you have to get used to as you get older is that it takes much longer to recover from stupid things, like a cold, that you would have shaken off in a day or two, back when. So we need to plan accordingly and be patient with ourselves.
And take the Zicam.
Because as long as we hang out with our beloved little germ-pots, there will be infectiousness.

Finished Stocking #1 and sent it to Ann Arbor, for trying-on (probably accompanied by hysterical laughter) and feed-back before I tackle the next one. This one looked like the dog's dinner at the top, where I was working out the shaping decreases, but improved towards the bottom, where it was, essentially, a sock. I can do those.

When I was at the annual sale at the Woollie Ewe (because somebody is having a baby) I was discussing this hose project with the cashier and mentioned that my vintage pattern called for size 13 needles, which couldn't possibly be our 13's. She looked it up on the needle conversion chart and sure enough- they would now be 1's, which makes much more sense. This is a WWII-era pattern book, when, since they couldn't get nylons or silk stockings, the capable just knit their own.
Interesting.

V. has an idea: every month we will choose one room in the house and concentrate on whatever needs to be done there. It can be de-cluttering, repair, decorating, whatever. First up, since January is half over, will be the hall bath. It needs painting and some new decor, now that it is officially the guest bath again. Did you know that genius Wal-Mart now has cans of ready-mixed paint in basic colors for the non-obsessive DIY'er? Yep, we picked up two gallons of 'Fresh Lettuce' or whatever it's called and that was all there was to it. I repeat, genius.


Harry Reid was coming to Irving, but he cancelled. He may have indeed had serious business in Washington, but we doubt it. Heck, I wouldn't have wanted to face a plaza full of irate Texans, and I'm a native.


Once upon a time, we were this young couple- virtually possessionless, except for our clothes, our books, a couple of cartons of albums, a stereo, a guitar, a typewriter and our wedding presents. Then, three-plus decades pass. We produce four kids, who leave home, but store their stuff in the old office, the garage, the guest room closet and the storage unit. Relatives die and we acquire some of their wordly goods. We've been living in the same house for a quarter of a century and never experienced the clear-out that a move would provide.
And although we are not really collectors, except for books, that's still a lot of material that wanders in and never wanders out again.
So, I am going through my stuff, at least, and having a Free-for-All. Just putting it on a table in the front yard with some sacks and a sign "Free Stuff. Table not included."
Given our magpie human nature, I think it will disappear. All of it.

Now, having just said that... it's still nice when you have some papier-mache eggs and a chopstick and some florist's foam and some sphagnum moss and a flower pot and a bag of miscellaneous silk flower parts and hot glue and acrylic paint when your kid comes by the house, needing to construct a Venus flytrap, for her play.

TC is doing Doubt for this year's serious drama. Now, I'm not at all a fan of this play- so tired of the pedophile priest theme- and yet such is the spell of the theater that I'm loaning them my garden statue for the set. It's insidious.

Discovered that Continental-style knitting is NOT the way to teach little fingers the craft. No, the one hand, then the other hand rythm of English style is much easier to grasp. O did two rows completely by herself when we switched methods and was elated at her accomplishment.

Love my kids, because

• they think that instead of buying these, which as you see are about half acryclic, Mom will be enchanted to knit you some in 100% merino and send them to you in Michigan. Just the thought that she believes I can figure this out and do it is very endearing.


• although my cooking is best described as " adequate, with some high points", my son-in-law remarked, when I sent over some Chicken Maryland for dinner at their sneezing, wheezing, runny-nosed house, "Pretty much everything your mom makes is awesome."


• somebody went to somebody's house and perfectly performed the tasks of a certain seasonal mythical character, including leaving a note for the eldest child that they would be the first person he'd call, if he ever needed an assistant. And even though it was in their trademark serial killer handwriting, it was so sweet it made us tear up, a little.


• they constantly work to improve their parental skills, and don't flinch at the hard decisions, if it's for the good of the family.


• they are on the lookout for ways to add to their job skills, like becoming certified in first aid- in case scenery falls on someone, or something. There isn't always a doctor in the house...

Love them lots, as my late mom would say.

Christmas 2009
The Holiday Store

The back stock in my domain
Just a fraction of the prepared food boxes

The site, in prep mode. Please note the lovely electric blue walls.

Cap knitters. The lady in the middle is our long-time volunteer Maxine.

Who just retired, at 84, to knit more caps.

Infants and Under-3's Table

Adult and Family Table

All set up and ready for shoppers

Anatomy of an Enchanted Forest

The table

The trees, ready to be unfurled.

The fixin's

Bare trees

More fixin's

Add one granddaughter, several 'discussions', lots of mind-changing and

The finished result!

With an added improvement by V.

Kitteh-approved.

The Nativity scene, waiting

White Christmas.

On Christmas Eve morning, Target and I were in the sewing room, finishing up one of her presents. She had just flown in the previous evening from Michigan.

I looked out the window and said "Oh, look- it's snowing."

"No, it's not," she said.

Um, yes- it was.

She was furious.

In spite of our worries about the Yarb's air trip to Florida, we enjoyed this unexpected Christmas treat.

Christmas Eve

In a big departure from tradition and to accomodate the Yarb's plans- we had a family dinner on Christmas Eve, then went to their house for the kids' presents. After that, we returned home to open our presents. Contrary to someone's predictions, the world continued to spin on its axis. Plus, she got some great presents, like a DVD/video player and a vacuum and a mixer from her Nanna.

Target, in spite of the snow

Morgan and her G-daddy. The children wore their pj's to dinner.

I don't know how to cut this. Ignore.

A little confused.

O and Bubs with their Santa gifts. He had come and gone when we were having dinner

as a special favor, because of the trip.

Romo in his present from Mimi- fat man in a little coat.

O: He must like it, Mimi- he's not biting at it.

Me: Darling, I don't think he can move his head.

Sarah, in her work shirt, and Bubs

Mass at the monastery

When celibates decorate...

The founding monks were escapees from Hungary. This lovely cloth was the table cover for the Nativity scene.

A lovely rest of Christmas and a Happy New Year!

My Daughter, the Junkman
Target calls from the Berkely of the North with her Christmas list and a little work-related story:
"So, we pick up the fridge in the house- where she hasn't lived in three years- and something falls out of the bottom-"
"Please don't tell me what -"
"- and it was a CAT SKULL! And she's like 'oh, I thought one of the cats had disappeared'. So, we're pulling away and she comes out of the house with a plastic bag and asks if we can throw it away for her and it's the rest of the cat!"
"So, she just swept Kitteh up in a dustpan and gave him to you?"
"Well, it was only bones and some fluff. But yes."

There better be some adorable piece of free furniture in a pick-up this week to make up for that.

Snippets

Busy? Oh my goodness...

"A Christmas Story" opened Friday. All went well and almost all performances are sold out. V. was going to take O on Sunday, but they had another engagement with Granna, who was in town, so he and I went together- admiring his set, which I helped decorate, the costumes and our turkey.

I don't think I've mentioned the turkey: our director was hauling around a bag of great big styrofoam balls out of which he had to construct a prop turkey. So I volunteered Sarah, to relieve him of one job, and we all collaborated on the most luscious, golden brown fake turkey ever to grace the stage at TC.
I made the basic body out of carboard, large papiermache eggs and a cut up styrofoam ball to fill in the open spots and Sarah covered it with papiermache. V. made the drumsticks, out of medium p-m eggs and dowel rods. We taped those on and I swathed the whole thing in muslin. Once it had dried, I put on a base coat that I liked, but V. decided it was too orange. So he put on a glaze of brown and he was exactly right- it looked perfect! They loved it at the theater and we always enjoy it when they pull it out of the oven.
If I'd thought, we should have recorded the whole process in photos.

It occurs to me, that perhaps little boys do not hang up their costumes because they don't know how to hang up clothing. Don't laugh- one of our actors had never worn a shirt that buttoned before. I think there will have to be a lesson, as well as the usual CTJ about respecting the costume.

Holiday Store is underway. We open outrageously early - the 13th- because of Christmas falling on a Friday this year and depriving us of a weekend of distribution. That means that we will have to continue to fill food boxes during distribution, which means that the box-building station will have to stay up, along with enough back stock for however many boxes we need. We can estimate that fairly accurately, but it still entails taking up a lot of space we wouldn't otherwise.
A new wrinkle- we have lost our freezers, so we are giving out gift cards for poultry, instead of the actual birds.
The good news is that donations are not down, in spite of the economy.
And all the items we got as year-end tax write-off from corporations are good stuff.

More later- must go organize food sorter.

Family Food Network (updated)

Cell phone call overheard by Sis at the Target: "I don't know what she thought bringing that pumpkin pie- like it's the same as sweet potatoes. I mean, if you're gonna bring a pie- just bring a SWEET POTATO PIE!"

Target called me about a week ago to get the recipe for the Brocolli Rice casserole that's been a staple side at our Thanksgiving dinners, ever since my sister brought it home from her sorority at UT. It was one of those dishes that spread like kudzu through the kitchens of middle-class America in the '70's. Today we'd say it went viral.
After I read it to her over the phone, there was a short silence.
"So, this is the worst recipe ever, since it's a heart attack in a casserole."
"Well, sweetheart, it is over thirty years old."
"Ohmigod- there's Cheez Whiz, a stick of butter...Davy cannot possibly eat this."
"You could Google it and see if there's a lo-fat version. Just buy your Cheez Whiz early, or there won't be any left." I said, remembering the year I managed, in one of those slo-mo sequences, to snatch the last jar of that product off the shelf in the HEB before the other woman got it. I'm usually the least aggressive person in the world, but the thought of telling my extended family that there would be no B-R casserole because I wimped out spurred me to action movie lengths. If I'd had a bullwhip, I'd have used it.

She calls a week later to ask if she can use fresh steamed brocolli, instead of frozen and what kind of rice should she buy? It seems, searching the net, that someone has decided to jazz this up with wild rice. That is just wrong, people. It's basmati or Uncle Ben's. But steamed brocolli is okay.
She is also bringing two other things to dinner: Herb-butter bread and our new favorite appetizer. This is a jar of jalapeno fruit jelly, poured over a block of cream cheese, and served with crackers. That's the whole recipe and the boyfriend can't eat that, either.

But he can eat the Herb-butter bread, the recipe for which I copied from, I'm sorry to say, a 1971 copy of S2x and the Single Girl by Helen Gurley Brown. It's nothing but butter turned green with a variety of herbs and garlic salt spread on French/Italian bread. It evaporates the second you take it out of the oven.
It's my second party piece- the first being tacos.

We are going to my brother's for dinner. We will see how a walking Morgan likes the deer heads that terrorized Bubs year before last.
Grateful for so many things, you included. Have a wonderful Day!

Update: my youngest brother's wife brought us a new appetizer: Keebler stackers topped with white cheddar, slices of Granny Smith apples and honey. There was an actual honeycomb, because it's about the presentation. Alas, jalapeno jelly on cream cheese has met it's match and lost.
She also brought this for dessert, to which she added some dried cranberries. Words fail.
Lucky day for us all when Chas needed a legal assistant.
"I don't know how good her skills are, Mom, but she sure is pretty."

More Gratitude

- That Sarah has the best sister in the world. Target has offered her her pick of the furniture she has in storage: "as long as you give it back and don't break it". So, she can use the money she would have spent on a bed, etc. on rent.

-This site. What a great writer. Send all your potential converts here.

-Good theater parents. One mom has sent me three e-mails with a zillion links to possible jammies for her kid.

-That the Yarbs garage sale went well. They made some $$$ and got everything else off the premises- a big load off their minds

-That when you slip up- like yelling at someone you love over a character trait you've consciously chosen to ignore- you can repent and start over again...and again...

-That I never have to play Mario Kart ever- the pace gives me vertigo and I fall off the couch. Someone else will have to deal with the obsession.

-That Bubs can read the whole alphabet and understands symbols, like the "No" sign. There was a little incident in which he asked his dad how to spell "Mom", which he wrote on the door blackboard and then added the symbol. He was mad at her about something- but grasping how that works- genius.

-That there was a spot at St. Catherine's pre-school for Bubs.

-That flannel looks like wool from a distance

and other things too numerous to mention.

Gratitude: Nov. 10

Bubs. No explanation needed.

Oh- and the U.S. Marine Corps. Happy Birthday!

Days of Gratitude: Catching Up
The Fort Hood atrocity (like Robert Avrech of Seraphic Secret, I refuse to call it a 'tragedy') and the House vote on healthcare slowed me down. But still, I am grateful for:

• Americans who have not succumbed to PC. Please see the One Cosmos archives for the best take-down of this pathology available.
• Americans who will not surrender their personal liberties without a fight.
• Smart people, who are also wise people. I am blessed to know so many on the Net. You know who you are...
• Even though we have theological differences, being united with Evangelicals and non-lefty Protestants in the Culture War. I am especially grateful for their many excellent women's sites, which are so encouraging.
• Goodwill, where I found a lot of useful stuff for the show.
• No divas.
• That the neighbors, after the death of their ancient kitty, who we would watch when they left town, have a new cat.
• The creativity and handiness of Sissy- who put together a wonderful personal prop for me for the show. Her unerring eye is invaluable.
• Every time I leave the house to get into the car, the garden lifts my spirits with its vibrant fall growth. (It also makes me feel a little neglectful, but that's a thought for another day.)
• Getting to spend a couple of hours with just Miss O. We went to Joann's - oh, fun!- but she likes crafts and loves to discuss Mimi's costuming. She is simply the dearest little girl on earth.
• Her sister, OTOH, is the funniest. How I treasure our walk up the block on Friday. She is tip-toeing over the acorns on the sidewalk in her little bare feet. (It wasn't that cool, and I refused to wrestle with their heinous baby-gate to go get her shoes. Yes, I'm a terrible grandmother.) "Morgan, let Mimi carry you." "NO!" "Sweetie, you're going to hurt your footies." "NO!" She can do that "NO!" thing for twenty minutes at a time. Miss Independence.

Gratitude- Nov. 3

I'm having a little trouble with these posts- not because I find it difficult to be grateful. Instead, I spend most of my time being thankful for things- I'm the type of person who goes to fill up the coffee maker in the morning and thinks "Look at that! Clean water is coming out of our tap! Thank you, Jesus!" "There are new morning glories on the vine!" "It's rained for nine days straight-the lakes are refilling. Whoo-hoo!"
For today:
1) I was able to step in and replace the costumer for "A Christmas Story", who had some family issues. The cast has some of my favorite actors in it- one of whom is almost totally costumed already.
2) We can go to the polls in America without being threatened by violence. In fact, that's so rare that it makes the news when it happens.
3) Grocery stores.

A Month of Thanks
Stole this idea from Sis, who borrowed it from Clover Lane. Thinking of something(s) that make me thankful every day in November.

Nov. 1
1) Even though I had the flu/a bad cold for a solid week, I had access to all the healthcare I could need, if I'd wanted to use it. I refused to give them the satisfaction of being a stat, though, so I have no idea what I really had...
2) Speaking of health care, I have 1 Rep. and 1 Senator who listen to we the people.
3) I used the down time of flu/cold to finish a comfort shawl for church.

Nov. 2
1) Morgan Jane was wearing the tiniest little pigtails in the world this morning. This was heart-crackingly adorable.
2) Sarah has another job at the same theater as before.
3) The agency is going to do Thanksgiving food box distribution on site, in the former Senior Adult Services part of the building.

I didn't necessarily say they'd be BIG things. Though there will be some of those, too.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways-

Proof yet again that my kid is a genius. She has photoshopped up a wonderful card for their
anniversary- Sissy and Jas through the decades.
Mom, because she is something of a doof, didn't immediately get the joke. That the fourth girl pic looked just like Fan Target (they look exactly alike in photos) should have tippped me off, but I was too busy loving the captions. But I now bow to the utter hilariousness.
Oh, and check out who's driving the convertible...
Happy Anniversary!

Time to get cracking

on the H'ween costumes!

Umm, Sal, you say, it's not even the end of September yet.

Yeah. So?

As you may remember, last year we did an Animal Planet theme: flamingo, elephant and bumblebee.

This year, we're being more eclectic: Ni is an angel, Bubs is Luigi, the Mario brother and Morgie is a pumpkin, which is just an excuse for her to wear a big fluffy orange net and organza tutu with a green ruffled Empire bodice and an enormous-ass green bow in her hair. Which her mama has already finished, by the way. Because our otherwise most sensible daughter is a Halloween Crazy Lady.

and I'm her enabler.

I'm making Ni's costume, using this pattern, the bottom left view:

out of white satin, organza and tulle. The vest is a silver net backed with organza and she will have purchased wings and a halo.

And I'm also responsible for Luigi's cap. That should be fun- I love a challenge!

Snippets

I have the Oliver! photos, but don't want to post them until certain people have seen the show.

Target and Davy had tickets for Sunday, along with Sissy, Ni and friends. I had a frank talk with him at family dinner: "Look, sweetheart, if you're just going to this to be polite to the mom, it's really not necessary. I won't be offended and I can re-sell the tickets." Which I knew would be an important point, since one of his former careers was being a ticket-scalper in Chicago.
"No, no- I really do want to go. I was in Oliver! in like fifth grade. I got beat out for Oliver by a kid whose name was Oliver, but I was a gang member and know all the songs."
Well, okay, then.

Bubs found some of Ni's deadly magnet-n-rod toys, which I took home and threw away. Apropos of that, Marge told the story of how, when she was an R.A. for Governor's School at Hendrix, which is like summer play-college for high school students, one of the young men decided it would be a good idea to insert his testicles between two super strong magnets from the physics lab. It took a trip to the ER to remove them, after six hours or so. Good times.

I had just figured out how to operate the ice/water controls on the Yarb's new fridge and was getting some crushed ice when Bubs walked by.
'That's enough, Mimi" he decreed.

While decluttering the house after neglecting it for weeks, I found an American Scholar on the bedroom bookcase. I read an article on two author's correspondence and part of the critical article that followed. The next day, while browsing near the Dickens section at H-P Books, I found a slim volume by the same author on books and reading- a combination common-place book and book list. Synchronicity demanded that I buy it, along with an Annie Dillard and The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. Now I have to buy a lot of other new books, as well, as recommended by Mr. Dirda.
These buying sprees go in cycles- one idea trips another and off I go on Amazon and ABE, tracking down the pertinent texts.

Before that, I went to the Tea Party Gov't. Health Care protest at our representative's office in Irving. After the protest, we were invited in for some refreshments and had a long and informative talk with some of his aides.
What I wish? That in groups like the above, we could all just agree that indeed, we all think very decidely about whatever subject and just leave it at that. There's no prize for hating socialism, or Obama, or abortion or anything else more than everyone else present. Really. Conserve the energy and use it more constructively, I say.
This reminds me of why I was never a very good 'Traditional' Catholic- just couldn't get into the competitive angst.

De-cluttering the garden, as well, but that goes on the other blog. What I've decided is that though I've enjoyed the last few years costuming the musical, I'd really rather garden and mess with the children. Both activites have their own vitality and I love them both, but for right now, I lean more towards the introverted and contemplative. The times seem to require that, somehow.

Snippets

I was feeling very guilty because Morgan McGyver Yarbs put a screwdriver in her mouth while they were here on Saturday - I was tightening the bolts in my IKEA chair, turned around and discovered that she had crawled behind me in her ninja stealthy way and helped herself to a large regular- until her mother confessed that Morgie had climbed up the stairs ALONE and was in the bathroom unrolling the toilet paper while she was in the kitchen and thought Jas was watching her.
She is THAT kid- the one who must have a constant keeper. Someone has to be on assigned 'Morgan watch' at all times, or she'll be on top of the refrigerator.

Pete was not happy about the Mr. Bumble costume offered by the costume rental place, so I offered to make him one. This is one of the pitfalls of costuming- the lure of the new. One must guard against it vigilantly or else you're going "Hmmm- you know, I've never made a 19th century greatcoat with a capelet and a bicorne hat..." and that way lies Crazy Town.

Our Oliver continues to grow- I had to open the back armholes of his 'poor' jacket so he could move his arms. Lucky for us, his 'rich' jacket is made of stretch suede cloth- it may last him through the show. The musical director has had to transpose some of his songs to a lower key- he's not Bryn Terfel yet, but he's losing the pure boy soprano you associate with little Oliver.

Orphans turned out very well, circus girls all look good, too. Tess's material was lying there, staring at me until I went "All right-FINE! I'll sew you!" and got it out of the way.
Fagin's Gang need a bunch of pants alterations and two more vests to liven things up- it was getting very brown, grey and black around there, but they are coming along.

As Geoffrey Rush kept saying in Shakespeare in Love: 'It will be fine.'

Happy Father's Day

to all Dads. Thank you, for all you do and the sacrifices you make.

Not about Costumes.

The Yarbs deconstruct.
And Ro takes to crime.