There’s nothing quite like meeting someone new. . . by accident.
Now before you get all excited and happy for me, this isn’t a story of my meeting “someone special.”
(Although I’m sure the person I met is special in her own way.)
Yearly Archives: 2013
More Healing Bracelets
I just realized it’s been awfully long since I posted pictures of the jewelry I’ve been beading, so let’s remedy that, shall we?
If you’re not into beads or jewelry or creativity, that’s okay. We don’t all have the same interests. You can skip reading right now.
Sure, you’ll hurt my feelings, but I’ll get over it. As Henry Rollins said, “Being an artist is dragging your innermost feelings out, giving a piece of yourself, no matter in which art form, in which medium.”
Just don’t leave forever, ‘k? Come back and join us next time, when I’m not writing about beads!
Still here? Great — thanks, and let’s get right to it.
What Shunning Looks Like
Have you ever been so mad you wanted to slap somebody?
Yesterday at Mass (I know, a lot of good it does attending Church if you’re going to leave angry!), this family came in and sat nearby. I’d seen them before: Dad, Mom, two boys (probably aged 14 or 15), Daughter #1 (maybe 12 or so), and Daughter #3 (aged 5 or so).
What happened to Daughter #2, the one I’m guessing is 10-ish? Well, after the family was seated — and taking up an entire pew — Daughter #2 shows up, tries to scoot somebody over to get in the pew, and fails.
Nobody would move over to let this poor child in.
What good is an apple tree if you don’t pick the fruit?
It all started with the apple tree.
I know, everything did start with an apple tree — well, not literally because we don’t know whether it was an apple or some other type of fruit that Eve ate in the Garden of Eden.
But I digress. This story starts with an apple tree.
An apple tree planted many years ago by one of our long-gone neighbors.
An apple tree that, despite our present neighbor’s inattention — no watering, no spraying, nothing — inexplicably has produced a bumper crop this year.
Witness:
Don’t they look tempting?
It’s Been One Noisy Summer
Because it’s been so beastly hot in these parts lately, I decided to water our flowers, shrubs, and trees the other evening.
Now I’ve never been convinced that city water, from a hose, does as much good as the rain that Mother Nature sends, but I suppose some moisture is better than nothing.
As I watered what I call Domer’s tree (a large maple that was planted when he was just a little guy), I noticed something creepy on one of the branches. Here’s what I saw:
Eeew, creepy!
I turned the hose full onto it, finally shaking it down to the ground. Then I made my way to the backyard and found this:
Another one, just like the other one
Nasty-looking, aren’t they? Do you have them where you live? Do you know what they are?
Wishing my Phone would Ring
I never thought I’d be this way.
Irritable. Scatter-brained.
I could blame it on lack of sleep, and that would be true.
I could blame it on this seemingly unending heat. True, also.
But digging deeper, I find the real source of my mood.
It’s Domer.
My darling son. He who is the apple of my eye.
Wordless Wednesday — Hump Day, Yeah!
This camel showed up outside our mall over the weekend. Camel rides $5. Photos $10. Memories priceless. (And no, I don’t know these kids!)
Sneaking Peas
As another back-to-school season begins, I’m reminded of one day during my elementary school years — a day when my pickiness nearly got the best of me.
I attended Catholic school. Nuns in full habit were our teachers, for the most part, and Mass was required a couple of times a week.
Lunch hour consisted of a hot meal. No brown bags.
The hair-netted lunch ladies would ladle out our food on trays, with separated portions for the veggies, fruit, main meat, etc.
Sometimes it was good. Other times, it was awful.
This one day was of the latter.
Peas were on the menu.
New stage in life — Empty Nest
My Favorite Domer called the other night and pointed out that his younger friends were gradually migrating back to Notre Dame for Band Camp and another school term.
And despite his beginning to enjoy life in the Working World, he’s verklempt over not being on campus. After all, this is his first year on the other side of college, and he’s discovering just how much he’s going to miss it.
I know exactly what he’s feeling. I’ve been having some of the same emotions.
Stop the Madness!
I just read that a group of teenagers — bored and looking for something “fun” to do — shot and killed a senior college student as he was jogging through an Oklahoma neighborhood.
He was a baseball player, and he and his girlfriend had returned to the States a week earlier from a trip to Australia, where his home was.
The trio involved in the killing, police say, are between 15 and 17 years old and shot the jogger in the back.
If that doesn’t make your blood boil, nothing will.
When are we going to stop the senseless violence — targeted too often against the young and innocent — in this country?
Now before I hop on my soapbox, I have to admit I firmly believe in the Bill of Rights, including the Second Amendment (the right to keep and bear arms). But that right was never intended, I’m pretty sure, to justify the killing of an innocent human being “just because.”
No, that Amendment was designed as a way for citizens to protect themselves and their communities from unlawful takeover by the government.
Every night we’re exposed to more stories on TV news about shootings and killings in our cities, and it distresses me.
Living just a few hours from Chicago (where more than 250 people have been gunned down this year alone), I listen in shock.
Just last night, another round of killings took place. This time, five men were shot along a route Chicago Public Schools had designated as a Safe Passage for kids.
Gang violence, they supposed.
How ridiculous!
Can’t we see what’s happening? We’re killing off our young people, our future. The promise of tomorrow.
And the ones we don’t kill we’re exposing to a level of violence and meanness their little spirits should never have to face.
Especially not at such tender ages.
I don’t know what the solution is, but somebody had better come up with one. And fast.
We can ill afford this lifestyle.
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 