the silver bells of whye*

I'm taking a quick break from putting the bulletin together on this blustery, wow-winter-really-is-here day. (it's cold and bitter and not at all what we've become accustomed to)

I'm not used to being here in the manse at this time of day anymore - it's light and bright and the school bus drops off kids right off on the corner.  There's a lot going on!

(The parents have decided to take their munchkins in warm cars - no homeward strolling  in this wind today.)

But yes, I haven't been here in the middle of the day in awhile and I can hear the church bells and they're lovely and pealing out over the wind and still joyfully ringing out

and still
and still??

It must be a wedding. Except who gets married on a Thursday at three pm? That must be a coooold wedding party. I started to feel sorry for the bride in her white dress, resolutely setting her teeth against the shivers that wanted to crawl up her spine and worry her knees, the groom, wishing he had a wool waistcoat instead of just a cummerbund, the flowergirl pulling at her skirts and sitting down to protect her ankles.

And then I remembered that the minister here is an avid gardener who loves windchimes.




*Why so worried, sisters why?  (Look it up, it's pretty. And kind of grim.But pretty, like the windchimes here)

Yuletide Carousing

Happy Christmas, everyone.

I'm melting!

Like an ice cube in a tall glass of lemon-bedecked iced tea.

(mmmh.)


Yes, the weather is hot. But c'mon, it's summer! Where I live we dream all winter about heat, glorious heat that doesn't radiate from the wood stoves or the baseboard heaters, heat you don't have to pay for. Bright clear yellow light not from a lamp. The temperature is just a bonus, really.

Friday I picked up Cass from his first jaunt off to summer camp. He was filthy, (Me, tipping giant bag of dirty clothes directly into washer: Oh, look! There's your washing kit! *pause* Um, Beau?  Your washcloth! It's....dry! And the brand new bar of soap you took? Still unopened! Now how did that happen? Cass brought over his backpack. "I.....washed in shampoo, Mom!' And I couldn't bring myself to look at his toothbrush.) tired, and happy, so it was a rousing success.

And he learned, along with nature facts and how to stay up all night without waking up your counselors that not only did Jesus die for his sins, but he came back to life afterward. (Something I guess I'd forgotten to ever mention. I think we've covered that his religious education? Has sucked.)

(Cass whispering in my ear at the camp closing ceremony: Mom? Did you know this is a church camp??')

Why yes, boy of mine, I did. Did you learn anything?
He cocked his head.

If you put a black ant and a red ant together? They'll fight. Can I come back here next year?

two award-winning parental moments

Rosey was busy with a coloring pad and fancy new crayons while the sermon went on. She requested that I draw things (a heart, my name, a bunny) in a medium whisper, but stayed still and relatively unobtrusive next to me.

The first reader went up. She found her place, pushing her spectacles back on her nose, and began to speak about how we should all be believers.

R stirred. 'Beavers? Does she mean the ones behind our house?'


And I didn't realize how much we push don't play with your food until tonight. Both the kids sat, sharing uneasy looks, eyeing their plates. Finally Cass spoke up.
'We eat these at school. Can I use my hands?'

I nodded. R was clearly bewildered at all the little dishes of toppings. 'Is this salad?'

Lips twitching, Bear showed her how to pick and fill her taco.

'So much for diversity, huh, Jess?'

religion fails, and nature wins

Rosey's religious upbringing has been....lackadaisical, at best. While she knows the stories and cheerfully says her nightly prayers, she hasn't been exposed to actual church that often. And while I attend services, she doesn't - a combination of there not being many -well, any- young ones in the congregation, and my own certainty that she's just too young to sit still for an hour.

She surprised me today by wanting to go.

And she did really, really well. There was some kicking of heels and a little wandering, but that was easily contained and not at all distracting. (We were in the back.)

We were doing well (even through the sermon! which I remember as a child dreading) until I realized there was a Love Feast.*

Well, crap.

Since I really didn't want to explain the process in three minutes or less, I told R we were going to stay back in our seats. She craned her neck and announced (loudly)'Look, Mama, they're having snack!'

Whoops.

The rest of the service went well, though. She'll keep going back with me as long as she still continues to show an interest.

Once we got home, I shoved dinner in the oven, and Cass went outside. Within moments he was back, panting and excited. 'There's a beaver in the backyard!'


He took off to go see if he could get close and I followed within a few moments to snap some pictures. We ended up on our stomachs in the winter stubble, inching closer to the young beaver as it nibbled (dead grass? grubs? something) from under the water.



Cass is really interested - in both nature and photography, and we stayed out there for a good half-an-hour, just talking and watching. It was all very peaceful and nice - to sit outside with the breeze blowing the cobwebs away, and to sit outside being still with my usually harum-scarum boy.

What the heck, I thought. Surely he'd know. 'Cass, what do you call the ceremony in church where people drink a little grape juice and eat bread?'

Cass looked thoughtful. 'A social?'

Yup, lackadaisical.
But at least he knows his way around a camera.


*We're United Church of Canada, and have a lay minister right now. Since we don't have an ordained UCC minister, we can't have Communion - hence the Love Feasts, which is (I suppose) Communion Lite? Same procedure, but less official.

mah holy one-holer

I think we could say my religious up-bringing of the children has been...spotty, at best.
While I believe I believe, I'm very literal-minded - and resist. There's also the way there is no Sunday school for little 'uns in our church, and there you have it - kids with a half-assed God philosophy. (love, Mom)
So tonight I was really thrilled to hear Rosey trilling along with me as I warbled 'The Lord Is My Shepherd' *(a la 'The Vicar Of Dibley')...until I shut off the shower and discovered she was singing about poop.

I goggled at her. You know those aren't the words, right?

She giggled. 'Mama, sing it with me!'

At least she got the tune right.



*I do, however, have a HUGE fondness for the old hymns.

catching up

Why, yes, Virginia, I didn't post yesterday! Thanks for noticing. But I'm still good for Blog 365 because I posted somewhere else. (wiggles eyebrows)

Let's see. Wednesday it was the girls' turn to be shorn - between Rosey and myself the hairdresser probably had six or seven pounds of hair on the floor when she was done. Rosey looks perpetually surprised with a chin-length bob (her errant expression is due to my being lax with the trimming scissors and R hurrying things along herself) but once her bangs grow over her forehead again she'll be lovely.

Thursday I worked at the manse and had the exquisite/excruciating experience of trying to give a very dear (and almost totally deaf) gentleman the web address for the church.

Me: _______pdc @
Him: (repeating as he writes it down) _________p,d,c,a,t
Me: No, no. _________p for paul and d for dog and c for charlie
Him: Okay, ________pauldogcharlie,a,t
Me: It's an ampersand. (and here I was wrong - an ampersand is &, not @)
Him: Now how do you spell that?
Me: The whirly sign.
Him: (blows out a big breath) Got it. Okay, now: _________p,d,c, whirly si....AT, then what?
Me: eastlink.ca
Him: __________p,d,c AT eastlink d,o,t,com. You know, I'm giving this to Soandso, so he can send the office something. He's really good with computers.
Me: He'll know exactly what you're talking about, don't worry. If he runs into any problems sending the documents just give him the office phone number and I'll talk to him.
Him: I don't suppose you made up that email address, did you?
Me: (uh?) no?
Him: Why do they make them so long? Someone must be getting paid by the letter.

And today was spent having a lovely breakfast with Rosey (we dressed up a little and went to one of the local tiny spoons, just the two of us) and then driving around the small ways and by-ways, trying to locate B and the beeg yellow taxi bus so I could take him home.

Also, thank goodness for a spouse who spots things while driving - it would have been a wet and sobby drive home if he hadn't seen that outhouse on the other side of the park!

The wee ones can only hold their wee so long, you know.

id-eeut*

Yesterday the printer at the manse stopped working. Just stopped.
I turned it on, it started to warm itself up, and died.

Well, hell. I fiddled with it for a few minutes and when it wouldn't obligingly turn back on I gave up and scheduled a service call for this morning.

Today (after a fun morning where Cass asked 'Mommy, can you take me to school?' and I like a sucker being a good mom said yes, sure, get in the car NOW damnit, and we hurtled down the road to the school and found out they don't let kids in that early, so I was late anyway) the repairman fiddled with the big old beast of a copier for twenty or so minutes and said bewildered things like "We've never had one of these models just die. Stop working, have error messages, sure, but just die like that? Not so far." which wasn't really helpful, because hello? Still dead.

...until I noticed that the little plug-in heater in the office wasn't working either, and it dawned on both of us that one of the fuses in the house had blown.

sigh

Oh, he tromped around the basement with me and found the panel, where (lawsy, look!) it was discovered that yes, indeedy, one of the fuses had blown.

When we flicked the switch I could hear the copier in the office begin humming.

It sounded sorta like it was chuckling to itself too.




*It works the best for the title to be said in an E.T. phone home voice.

santa never checks to see if it's home-made

It's December. December, arguably the most fragrant time of year - a time celebrated with good food and good cheer.

A time of year where nearly everyone you meet hands you a cookie.

Coooooooooookieeeeeeeeeeeeees.
(As Cookie monster would delightedly chortle.)

My mom always made Springerle. I never appreciated them as much as the Rum Balls - chocolaty-crumby goodness won out over stiff biscuits flavoured with anise and lemon every time. It was only when I started drinking coffee that I started to appreciate the cookies she made diligently every year, (And it's a long day process! The dough has to toughen and dry overnight, and then they had to age when done, which was hard to take when the house smelt wonderful and every particle of your body was screaming Cookie! Must have cookies!) using her grandmother's recipe.

After I left home I would make Reindeer Tongues and Nougats, Gingerbread Men and Gumdrop Wreaths. Chocolate-chip Walnut Biscotti and Fruitcake Drops.

(this was all before I hatched the monkeys, of course.)

This year? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

This year I know where I can get my cookie fix, where no one else has to be the wiser and I can luxuriate in all the goodness of Cookie Mecca....

Thank God for Church teas. And Food Tables.

don't panic. hmph.

At the manse today, I was working on the bulletin, happily picking along on my new computer, woo-hoo and learning the new programs...

and the bugger froze on me. Several times. Then it tried to convert all my saved WordPerfect stuff to Word.
(hint: BADBADBADBADBADBAD)

and after I worked my way through that while swearing a blue streak and gesturing wildly at the leering screen the printer stopped communicating with something and the whole thing...went to hell.

After abusing its' parentage, I cracked my knuckles, rebooted everything, and tried again.

Remember Hitchhikers' Guide To the Galaxy?

No, not the Don't Panic part,


the gesturing jello head part.

The computer? It's laughing at me. Loudly.

superhero worship

Wal-Mart To Sell Christian Action Figures
Retailer Claims Demand High For Faith-Based Toys That Include Talking Jesus Doll

(AP) Wal-Mart said Tuesday it will test sales in some stores of biblical action figures whose makers say they are aimed at Christian parents who prefer their children play with Samson, David or Noah rather than with a comic book character or Bratz doll.

Wal-Mart Stores Inc. spokeswoman Melissa O'Brien said the toys made by One2believe, a Valencia, Calif., company, will be offered in 425 of Wal-Mart's 3,376 discount stores and Supercenters.

One2believe Chief Executive David Socha said his products were part of a "battle for the toy box" with dolls and figures that he said carry negative messages.

"If you're very religious, it's a battle for your children's minds and what they're playing with and pretending. There are remakes out there of Satan and evil things," Socha said.

Wal-Mart's O'Brien said the Bentonville, Ark.-based retailer believes there is demand for faith-based toys.

The toy line will be on some Wal-Mart shelves starting in August, mainly in the Midwest and South but also in California and as far northeast as Pennsylvania, O'Brien said.

"It is a test. It's not a national rollout," O'Brien said.

The toys, based on biblical stories, include a 3-inch figure of Daniel in the lion's den, a 12-inch talking Jesus doll and 13-inch Samson action figure.

Wal-Mart has always carried some faith products, mainly stationery, books and music, but this is the first line of toys with a faith theme, O'Brien said.

"I think there is an interest in faith-based toys and we are testing it in our stores," O'Brien said.

It is a leap in scale for One2believe, which so far has mainly sold its figures directly to churches and ministries and through its Web site, Socha said.


www.cbsnews.com 4 August, 07
---------------

See, I don't know what to say about that.

At my house, though, I would give it two days (max) before Jesus would be Spidey's new sidekick, borrowing Superman's cape and kicking some Philistine butt.


And what does the talking Jesus doll say???

Sister Mary Justice

We had a movie morning.

Cass and I were all agog over Operation Stormbreaker* (he wants to be a spy when he grows up now, natch) and then he wandered off to do pseudo-judo moves on the dog, so I picked The DaVinci Code to watch next. I wasn't thrilled with the book, but hey, why not, right? The kids were busy elsewhere....

Cass burst back into the room, calling over his shoulder "C'mon, Rosey! Mama found another movie, and this one will be cool with nuns and stuff!"

Nuns? Wha'?

He bounced on my lap. 'Does he have one?'

'A nun? Of his very own?' Vigilante nuns?

'Yeah! Is he a bad guy or not?'



I figured out he meant gun after a bit of snorting to myself, picturing cowboys with nuns riding sidesaddle behind them. High Noon indeed.







*Really, a good movie. Action, spy gadgets, cool stuff. Cass was very impressed and I liked it too. And the lead actor is hot in that sort of 'I would have really had a serious thing for you when I was a teenager' type thing.

because they came back. twice.

Hinting wasn't working.
a post for Ms V -

i've begun this badly

Our church has no Sunday School. That partnered with general parental laziness means that Cass and I are having some interesting conversations about Easter.

(in the car)

Cass: So today is Good Friday?
Me: (passing car) Yes.
Cass: So when does the Easter bunny come?
Me: Sunday. Sunday is the day we celebrate Jesus' return from the dead. God brought His son back to life.
Cass: Like Panda? Are we getting Panda back?
Me (SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT) No, sweetie.
Cass: What happened to Jesus?
Me: Some bad men (wincing away from the subject) umm... killed him, and God brought him back so he could say 'Look what a miracle God did! It helped people see how wonderful God is and what miracles he can do. Then God took him up to Heaven.
(silence)
Cass: So the Easter bunny comes to leave candy at our house so Jesus will come back?
(silence while I try to formulate a response that makes any kind of sense)
Me: (brightly) Oh look! We're here!

praying for wine

Sake (the japanese wine served in thimble-cups)
has no accent mark in the spelling.


Brings new meaning to the words 'For Jesus' sake', and 'for our sake', doesn't it?

Maybe this is what DST does to my poor addled brain.

the scarlet j

I was upstairs on the computer when I heard voices.

Bear had company? Okay. I signed off and trotted downstairs, where I pulled up short, espying two serious-and-sober young men with dark coats on. One was carrying a backpack. Both were talking animatedly with Bear about the area. Were these the new neighbors?

I smiled when introduced (promptly forgetting their names) and sat down. Bear was in full flow about the schools in the district. They were smiling and nodding and listening and...watching the kids.

Something began to tick over in my head.
Jess, you've met the new neighbors. They're both British, remember? He said something about a seventeen-year-old-son, but these guys are closer to thirty. Okay. Not the neighbors, then. But who?

And then one of them whipped out a Bible and all was revealed.

Bear was deep in conversation about tax rates and fire departments and it was obvious I was the only one who had any qualms about the situation.
I cleared my throat.
"Excuse me, are y'all preachers?"
They laughed and assured me they were not, just bible students, and they were visiting everyone in the neighborhood.
This didn't make me feel comforted. I pasted on my biggest smile and coughed again.
All eyes swiveled 'round.
"Are you Jehovah's Witnesses? Because....we're not."

There was a small silence. Bear's ears were flushing. (But, damnit, he should have known this was coming.)

One of them said something about bringing God's word into people's homes and how small groups of people blah blah blah and I nodded, agreed (idn't it wonnerful?) and told them there were other houses in the neighborhood that perhaps they would enjoy talking to more.
Than this one.

They left soon afterwards, sitting in their car for quite awhile (probably praying for Bear, since he's stuck with me) before leaving.
Surprisingly, they didn't stop at any other house within sight of ours.

But now they know that in this house lives both a talkative one and a sarcastic nasty one. And that combination seems to encourage groups like that one to try harder.

If there are any return visits, I shall consider Sam's way.

Sam was a friend of mine, working his way through college, putting himself through with a night bartending job. The school he went to was a big draw for the roaming religions, and every Friday morning, (after working a late shift Thursday night) Sam would be woken by the doorbell ringing. He tried politeness. He tried firmness. Finally, after one really late night where he'd gotten barely any sleep, he rolled out of bed (naked and semi-erect) flung open the door, and roared "I'm busy!" The two women there squeaked out sorries and ran away, leaflets fluttering to the ground behind them.

I guess they never came back...

Now I hope it doesn't come to that. I'm not at all sure I could get Bear to do that.

But it's tempting.

she's with the angles

I am woefully vague on a lot of Christian doctrine. I read the Bible one summer and promptly went into puberty (although I highly doubt one had anything to do with the other)and my teenage atheist mode, so certain things aren't crystal clear in my mind. I am comfortable having a casual relationship with religion.

This makes it hard when Cass has questions.

Last night, amid cries of "I want Panda back!", he asked if God had two hands. I couldn't remember anything that said he didn't, so sure, honey - God has two hands.

Now he wants to know how God will pet Kansas and Panda and take care of everyone else up there.

He finally decided the angles will take care of her, and amid visions of flying toolboxes with wings, (acute, right or obtuse?) I agreed.

How could you argue with a philosophy like that?

must stop coming into work early

If you read the following after coffee, it's a deadly serious message.
If you read it before coffee in an early morning fug, it becomes a comedy about thin short people and weight loss.

SMALL ARMS ARE A BIG PROBLEM,SAYS THE UNITED CHURCH OF CANADA

Toronto: May 22-29, 2006, marks the Global Week of Action Against Small
Arms. It is time, says The United Church of Canada, to remember that
"God calls us to be peacemakers and reconcilers in a world of much
conflict and division."

Small arms are a big problem-not only for Canadian cities but also for
communities across the globe.

"With over 600 million small arms in circulation globally, we cannot close our eyes to the issue of small arms," says Choice Okoro, Program Coordinator for Human Rights and Reconciliation.

Earlier this month, Okoro wrote Prime Minister Stephen Harper, asking
him to stiffen the resolve of the Canadian delegation attending the June
26-July 7, 2006, United Nations Small Arms Review Conference.

She says the serious threat that small arms pose to human security can
no longer be ignored. She explains that the easy availability of small
arms prolongs conflict, and exacerbates poverty

"We must work harder to control the trade in small arms," comments
Okoro. "Small arms contribute to untold social, economic, and political
destruction, and act as a major hindrance to human development."

Arms: right size. Check.

hush my mouth

The church office is a large room connected to the manse, which is big and old and gorgeous and empty, since the last minister headed out. It's full of old woodwork, big windows, a really lovely sunny kitchen and a three room basement. The yard has big maple trees in it and the livingroom window overlooks a lily bed. I love that house. I've gotten used to being there by myself - the grumblings and creakings of the house settling itself to sleep don't bother me anymore, and except for the occasional schoolchild raising money knocking on the door, it's a quiet and peaceful place to work.

Our parish has been without a minister for some months now, and the search is on for a suitable replacement. Meetings have been held in each of the churches and in the manse to discuss what the next move will be - a full-time minister? A part-time? Shall we share one with a neighboring community?

Tonight when I first got there there was a full meeting going on in the dining room - candidates being mentioned and suggestions being made. I closed the connecting door, flipped the radio on low, and only heard mumbles for about an hour, when the meeting broke up. Everyone left out the front door except one of the women who came in to give me a brief synopsis and to talk about what she needed for the Easter service.

But soon, the house was quiet again. I finished the first batch of Easter bulletins (the communion service) and began running through the second, non-communion group.
While those were going through the copier I began working on the computer, typing out and formatting the Sunrise Service bulletin. Of course, halfway through creating them, the computer froze and I had to begin again.

Stupid computer. I started again. This time it only let me get through the first page before flashing bright blue 'SYSTEM UNSTABLE' - this screen dictates that there will be at least a ten minute wait while the computer hems and haws and smoothes its ruffled skirts and decides whether it wants to play nice or not. This time it did...for a little while. Then SYSTEM ERRORS began popping up like bad habits and the whole thing went to hell.

I'm afraid I got a bit vocal at that point. Pointing my finger at it, I discussed its parentage at length and was stabbing the reset button when I heard a chair fall over out in the kitchen. Seconds later, the door opened. 'Everything okay in here?'

Well, shit. It appears I turned the air blue in front of two Council members and the Treasurer.

I think I fell off the short list to be asked to teach Sunday school.

They are, however, taking the computer in to be fixed.

reely cain't type

Tonight is Go-To-Jesus job night, and I've been wrestling with an Easter letter for hours. The bulletins are done, folded, sorted, ready for pick-up, and it's just me and the ancient computer with brokken spill chk. I just thought I was doing a tremendous job typing - glanced it over quickly, tossed it in the copier, and whizz-bang, 129 copies of an Easter letter that starts out:

With the cold and dark of winter behind us, our thoughts turn to Spring. Did you see the robins, the early crocus, the pussy lows? All are signs of new life. (I'm really thinking the church elders aren't trolling for dates here.)

and continues on the next paragraph:

Eater is a time of new lifeandbeginnings (Eater likesrunonwords, too. Good boy, Eater! Go haveacookie.) a time when we can worshop and pray together and let the massage of the new life in Christ touch our souls.
(A spa day! First we worshop, then we get massaged!)
I'm sure the neighbors wonder why the crazy lady roars with laughter over her work sometimes.

Think they need a massage?