Yes, I know 'tis a bit early. But, since Jude, Edward, DragonLady, Devil's Advocate and I will all be off at the Jam Session in Syracuse on New Year's day, I figured better early than late or not at all.

To all our readers, then, I wish

My little King, my mighty Lord eternal,
Thou who wast born today, and ever art,
How is it that thou comest to my heart,
Before whom tremble all the powers infernal?
Dear Lord, who art so great and yet so small,
So humble and so high, so strong, so weak,
I look upon thee and can hardly speak —
Thou who art God and yet art Man withal.

My loving Lord, Thou Love whom I behold,
Teach me Thy great humility, I pray,
That I may be as low as now Thou art;
For Thou, whom all creation cannot hold,
Hast yet become, upon this Christmas day,
Little enough to come into my heart!

Saw this video linked on Angelqueen. Pretty funny. :)

This pretty much sums up Lucia's opinion on movies-made-from-books-we-love (the Lord of the Rings in particular!) , though with an exception or two. (Bedknobs and Broomsticks is one of those. Rather an awful book, but a hysterical movie!)

What happened? Where did we go wrong? How is it that a college named after a saint, with Catholic foundations, and a President who is a nun could, wait... oh never mind.

I knew right from the start that D'Youville College was not a Catholic college, but I had no idea how far they had fallen until this year. As a Student Association Senator, classmate, and overall nice guy (don't laugh) I have had the chance to talk with or overhear people's concerns and questions regarding the College and it's Catholicity. One of the most frequent questions asked is whether or not the school is actually Catholic. If you need to ask that, then the answer is no. But for all intensive purposes here are a few pointers.

Last year the school paper, which I write for now, apparently published an article which gave the pros and cons of abortion. That's right, PROS and cons. At least the report is that President Sister Denise flipped out so there is some hope I guess. After that incident the paper has been more careful to not touch on such "controversial material". But the mentality still exists within the school.

During our last Student Association meeting there was a club representative present to bring forward their club constitution and to be considered for school recognition as an official club. Without going into too much detail, the club's name is Alliance and their logo involves a whole rainbow of colors. After minimal discussion in which it was clear that my fellow senators had no idea of the ideals and beliefs of St. Marguerite D'Youville they took a vote. The club was accepted almost unopposed. Open the closets! Hugs all round!

The saddest point is the total renouncement of Catholic upbringing by my classmates. In a conversation before class it was discovered that several of my classmates had been baptized "against their will". Okay, 1: what will did you have at that age and 2: If you really don't believe in any of it what difference does it make to you whether you were baptized or not? Why do you have to make being a Catholic sound so uncool? What's not cool about being a Catholic? If you're reading this I want you to comment on what makes being Catholic cool. But I digress. It seems as though Catholics are almost second class citizens or evil or something. Why all the hate?

I'm not saying that I expected D'Youville College to be Catholic when I applied here. I would have as easily gone elsewhere if they had the same program I am in right now. It's just I don't like it when people are shown vestiges of something that is not there, namely Catholicism. For anyone who is considering becoming a nurse or a teacher, the school has great programs here. Academically it is pretty good and, taken with a large grain of salt, will be very useful. I just wouldn't come here thinking of making lifelong friends or meeting soul mates (typically either an MR or MRS degree). Isn't that what St. Mary's is for? j/k

The poet returns! This one was inspired by the awesome winter sunsets, all pink and purple and gold... what else would a Catholic think of but the liturgical colors? :)

How glorious is the sky, though chill the air!
A liturgy celestial I behold;
A heavy curtain, violet, rose and gold,
Is draped across the towering branches bare.

Darkness is setting in; we must beware,
For in the dark of midnight and the cold
Our evil enemy, our foe of old,
Roams round and round, to see whom he may snare....

But we who love Our Lord will not fear night;
In blackest dark, we better see the light
That sprang from a poor stable's lowly stall,
And turned the night of fear to one of joy:
The Babe is born that will all sin destroy,
And be the loving Savior of us all!
--- Dec. 10, 2009

This article was printed last week in the Webster Journal, our student paper. It talks about the concert the Chorale and the St. Louis Chamber Chorus performed at the beginning of November. The concert was a lot of fun, and I was pleasantly surprised when I was asked to answer a few questions about Dr. Bowers and the concert for the Journal. I'm in the picture too; it was bigger in the printed version, but I think I'm pretty visible there on the left end of the picture -- the girl in the gold scarf and plaid skirt.

http://media.www.webujournal.com/media/storage/paper245/news/2009/11/18/Lifestyle/Wu.Music.Professor.GuestConducts.Concert-3836228.shtml

I was looking through some stuff and I found something of interest, it was an earlier piece I wrote; it was my fist stab at symbolism, tell me what you think. and plus now that the weather is cooling off I thought it appropriate. you'll have to forgive me it was I think the 4th poem I ever wrote; so its not very good, but its wintery......

The Viking, as those who have been following the comments on the Judging post may (or may not) have seen, has stepped down with this gracious (or impatient! ;) little comment:

Just give the win to stick-figure-girl...I voted for her....

Keep on keepin' on. Don't do in milk, stay drugs, and drink your school.

Here I double a post from the Steel Lily, to see what the trad-cat readers think.

Last week, in the usual Thursday-noon recital, a fellow-piano-major and I played Debussy's beautiful Petite Suite for piano, four hands. For the first two movements I played the upper part and he the lower, and for the other two, we switched places. We received a good deal of very flattering praise; it was, by all accounts, a pronounced success.

The suite, and some of the things Mr. Schene has said about it, were still turning over in my head after the recital; and when I got home I wrote down this little "suite" of verses. The music can be found on youtube (I'll put links in the titles). My readers may listen to them, and tell me how accurate my little images are.

I. En Bateau

The paddles slice the waters silently,
And in the peaceful golden light of noon
We glide along the river easily,
Far from the faintest thought of dark or ruin;
No ripples on the glassy water lie
To mar its softly pointillistic gleam,
And even the breeze sings, as it whispers by,
A tune I half-remember from a dream...

II. Cortége

The fairy-flutes are piping, far and high,
Sweet as the laughter of the elfin crowd,
And as their small procession marches by,
We cannot help but smile at them - so proud,
Tossing their braids, or curly-tops held tall,
Waving the spoil of a successful raid,
Flowers and nuts from some King Squirrel's hall,
Borne in a gay victorious child-parade.

III. Menuet

Cast off that melancholy from your face!
Upheld by an enchanting violin,
The pairs advance with charming ancient grace;
The minuet is going to begin.
The pipe and viol their harmonies unfurl;
Across the sward they sweep unerringly -
Balance together, step and step and twirl,
And we dream on, lulled by the melody.

IV. Ballet

One rich-voiced cello guides the airy tune,
And trippingly the children whirl away,
Carefree small fairy folk, beneath the moon,
Light-footed, lighter-hearted, bright and gay -
Until the waltz, with passionate romance
(That music is inebriety divine!)
Lifts us, who love, aloft into the dance,
Soaring on wings of song, of love and wine.

Since we are having a series of posts about Halloween, I thought it would be appropriate to quote something about the liturgical spirit of the church around this time (emphasis added):

Let us prepare our souls for the graces heaven is about to shower upon the earth in return for its homage. Tomorrow the Church will be so overflowing with joy, that she will seem to be already in possession of eternal happiness; but today she appears in the garb of penance, confessing that she is still an exile. Let us fast and pray with her; for are not we too pilgrims and strangers in this world, where all things are fleeting and hurry on to death? Year by year, as the great solemnity comes round, it has gathered from among our former companions now saints, who bless our tears and smile upon our songs of hope. Year by year the appointed time draws nearer, when we ourselves, seated at the heavenly banquet, shall receive the homage of those who succeed us, and hold out a helping hand to draw them after us to the home of everlasting happiness. Let us learn, from this very hour, to emancipate our souls; let us keep our hearts free, in the midst of the vain solicitudes and false pleasures of a strange land: the exile has no care but his banishment, no joy but that which gives him a foretaste of his fatherland.

The Liturgical Year by Abbot Guéranger, O.S.B.

Now that Halloween has passed and we've been greeted by the usual onslaught of blood and gore, it leads one to think about why our society is so enamoured of all this ugliness. Every October we are bombarded by blood, death and violence: the stores sell everything from dismembered limbs to rotting gravestones, Hollywood releases its most violent movies and occultism temporarily becomes mainstream. Why this fascination? One significant reason has to do with Satan. Where he goes, ugliness follows, and a society as steeped in sin as ours can't help but be inclined to wallow in it. Just as beauty uplifts the soul, ugliness pulls it down, and this is why Satan tries to destroy anything beautiful and replace it with filth. He uses ugliness as a tool to distract those he wishes to lure away from God.

But the fascination with ugliness isn't just a sign of being associated with Satan-it can also be a sign of the despair one feels at not finding beauty (or truth, for that matter). The more one desires the good life, the more poignantly one feels the lack of it. Then in anger and despair the soul says, "Well, if this is all there is, I might as well revel in it." And so the degree of reveling is in direct proportion to the intensity of the frustrated desire. It's partly what they mean when they say "The propensity for evil is equal to the propensity for good." So we can never judge someone who seems given over to ugliness, whether visual or otherwise-we don't know what's in their heart and whether they are merely frustrated in their longing for the good, the beautiful and the true. As Catholics, we have the duty to bring them to the fulfillment of that desire, and away from the ugliness.

Finally, there is also one major reason why ugliness (merely in itself) can never be totally despised: Our Lord Himself embraced ugliness at the most crucial point in His life: Death by crucifixion was the most violent, disturbing and well..just plain UGLY death in existence at that time in the ancient world. But Our Lord didn't just die on a cross, which would have been bad enough. No-first He was scourged to a bloody pulp and THEN crucified. This is what the Psalmist is referring to when he says "But I am a worm and no man..." (Psalm 22:6) So the "good" ugliness can't be totally despised because if Our Lord embraced it, and we are to imitate Him, then we must embrace the "ugliness" in our lives also. Sorrows, loneliness, disappointments, and even failures are all to be accepted (and even LOVED, if you can manage it ;) ). Then we can truly imitate Our Lord and really be worthy of Him.

"There is no beauty in him, nor comeliness...there was no sightliness, that we should be desirous of him." Isaiah 53:2

The Viking's posting of "Black and Tan" reminded me of this song... the very definition of sarcasm! I love it... Lyrics below the video.



Oh, I'll tell you a tale of peace and love
Whack fol the diddle o the die do day
Of a land that rules all lands above
Whack fol the diddle o the die do day
May peace and plenty be her share
Who kept our homes from want and care
Oh, God bless England is our prayer
Whack fol the diddle o the die do day

Chorus:
Whack fol the diddle o the die do day
So we say 'hip hooray'
Come and listen while we pray (1st chorus only)
Whack fol the diddle o the die do day

Now our fathers oft were naughty boys
For pikes and guns are dangerous toys
At Ballinahabwee and at Peter's Hill
We made poor England cry her fill
But old Brittania loves us still

God bless England so we pray (remaining choruses)

Now, when we were savage, fierce and wild
She came as a mother to her child
She gently raised us from the slime
And kept our hands from hellish crime
And she sent us to heaven in our own good time

Well, now Irish men forget the past
And think of the day that's coming fast
When we shall all be civilized
Neat and clean and well advised
Oh, won't mother England be surprised?

I hopped upon my Vespa today to drive down to a local music school where I was going to interview the lady who runs it, who offered me a place as a piano teacher. It was slightly rainy, and the ground wet. I kept to the speed limits carefully, usually below them, in fact; but as I hummed along, I suddenly hit a slick spot and found myself spinning across the lanes....

By God's grace I didn't hit anyone, or vice versa, and when I disentangled my cloak from the Vespa and picked us both up with the help of the two kind ladies behind me, I discovered I had escaped with two scraped knees, a bruised thumb and a bad shaking. The poor Vespa fared worse, with a badly scratched right side and the handlebar bent to the right, so when I remounted I had to hold the handlebar sideways to keep the front wheel straight. But I made it to the music school, albeit somewhat late, as it's not very well marked and I passed the building three times before finding it with the help of a kind lady (who happens to send her children there, though I didn't find that out till later.)

The directress was very kind about my lateness and my student's mother insisted on my resting and not teaching that day, so I played a piece for little Dylan (who, though hopping up and down with excitement, professed himself willing to wait a long time -- "I can wait three months!"-- for his lesson,) and then gathered my things and climbed into the car of a Webster alum who teaches guitar there and was kind enough to drive me back to the University. The Vespa was parked inside the real-estate office downstairs, whose kind secretary let me keep it there until I can go get it tomorrow.

The long and the short of this is that I owe St. Raphael and my guardian angel a big BIG BIIIIG BIIIIIIIIIIG thank you for keeping me from worse harm and letting everything come out pretty well. I have little doubt I owe it to the prayer taught me by a dear friend, which I pass on to all of you.

Sanctus Ioseph cum Maria,
Sanctus Raphael cum Tobia,
Sanctus Michael cum caeleste herarchia,
Sint nobiscum in via.

Which I translated, with some little freedom, as:

Holy Joseph and his Bride,
Raphael at Tobias' side,
St. Michael and armies heavenly,
On my journey be with me.

Say it. It works. Believe me.

I was born on a Dublin street
Where the royal drums did beat
And the loving English feet walked all over us,
And every single night
When me father'd come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:

Hi here are some pictures of my pictures of the ball( actually there the Haughts pics I just took them)

Here I am with Emma, and on the left is Chad (Ladner) and THATgirl




From the left: Chad, Maryanna, Thomas, Emma Haught




Here I am with Emma just before the first waltz, Don't ask about the hand gesture I don't get it either........


see the waltz starts right after the grand march, but I forgot to put my dance shoes on, so I had to go to the side and put them on; at which point Mrs. Haught (Emmas mother) got a picture of us.












Heres me again, actually waltzing. hopefully you won't notice how bad I look. and if thats enough of burning the eyes out of your sockets with my pictures of me. here are some of some pretty people.......... I mean the next ones
















This is one of our protestant friends Nathan, and the back of the head is a trad Micheal smith










From the left: Nathan Harris, Micheal
Smith




There's my Cute little brother in the front dancing with the instructor a Mrs. Blackhall-Peters









And here's our beautiful friend, Ali Sentmanat




















Here is some of us in our kilts, don't ask about the leg thing I don't get it either, I didn't realize they actually got a picture of that.









Here I would like to end My parade of pictures the same way we ended the ball with a few rounds of what do you do with a drunken sailor, and The mermaid.





See kilts are awesome. And maybe if y'all are in town in may we can all go to the highland games together. ( or November for the Armond Bayou fall festival)

there are about 80 more picture of the ball that other people have but I can't post them all.
and while were talking about scottish stuff I'll close with a Poem I like( though didn't write)

After enjoying all those deep posts on modesty, though not necessarily because of them, I came up with a sonnet to Our Lady under one of the many wonderful invocations of the Litany of Loretto, which seems apt for the pianists because we play on it all the time.

Turris Eburnea

Thy glory is too great for pen to write,
Thy heart too high for mortal speech to say;
Thy grace too grand, thy soul too shining white
For us to praise, who are too poor to pray.

Our voices dare not sing to thee, whose song
Was the Magnificat; O how can we,
Without a fear of offering some wrong
To such a singer, sing thee worthily?

Nay, wordless is our prayer; on gleaming keys
Of that material made more noble by
The name thou'rt given in the prophecies,
We let our hands, to give thee honor, fly,

And name thee Lady of our minstrelsy,
Queen of our keyboards, Tower of Ivory.

Oct. 19, 2009

Question 168. Modesty as consisting in the outward movements of the body

Article 1. Whether any virtue regards the outward movements of the body?

Objection 1. It would seem that no virtue regards the outward movements of the body. For every virtue pertains to the spiritual beauty of the soul, according to Psalm 44:14, "All the glory of the king's daughter is within," and a gloss adds, "namely, in the conscience." Now the movements of the body are not within, but without. Therefore there can be no virtue about them.

Objection 2. Further, "Virtues are not in us by nature," as the Philosopher states (Ethic. ii, 1). But outward bodily movements are in man by nature, since it is by nature that some are quick, and some slow of movement, and the same applies to other differences of outward movements. Therefore there is no virtue about movements of this kind.

Objection 3. Further, every moral virtue is either about actions directed to another person, as justice, or about passions, as temperance and fortitude. Now outward bodily movements are not directed to another person, nor are they passions. Therefore no virtue is connected with them.

Objection 4. Further, study should be applied to all works of virtue, as stated above (166, 1, Objection 1; 2, ad 1). Now it is censurable to apply study to the ordering of one's outward movements: for Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 18): "A becoming gait is one that reflects the carriage of authority, has the tread of gravity, and the foot-print of tranquillity: yet so that there be neither study nor affectation, but natural and artless movement." Therefore seemingly there is no virtue about the style of outward movements.

On the contrary, The beauty of honesty [Cf. 145, 1] pertains to virtue. Now the style of outward movements pertains to the beauty of honesty. For Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 18): "The sound of the voice and the gesture of the body are distasteful to me, whether they be unduly soft and nerveless, or coarse and boorish. Let nature be our model; her reflection is gracefulness of conduct and beauty of honesty." Therefore there is a virtue about the style of outward movement.

I answer that, Moral virtue consists in the things pertaining to man being directed by his reason. Now it is manifest that the outward movements of man are dirigible by reason, since the outward members are set in motion at the command of reason. Hence it is evident that there is a moral virtue concerned with the direction of these movements.

Now the direction of these movements may be considered from a twofold standpoint. First, in respect of fittingness to the person; secondly, in respect of fittingness to externals, whether persons, business, or place. Hence Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 18): "Beauty of conduct consists in becoming behavior towards others, according to their sex and person," and this regards the first. As to the second, he adds: "This is the best way to order our behavior, this is the polish becoming to every action."

Hence Andronicus [De Affectibus] ascribes two things to these outward movements: namely "taste" [ornatus] which regards what is becoming to the person, wherefore he says that it is the knowledge of what is becoming in movement and behavior; and "methodicalness" [bona ordinatio] which regards what is becoming to the business in hand, and to one's surroundings, wherefore he calls it "the practical knowledge of separation," i.e. of the distinction of "acts."

Reply to Objection 1. Outward movements are signs of the inward disposition, according to Sirach 19:27, "The attire of the body, and the laughter of the teeth, and the gait of the man, show what he is"; and Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 18) that "the habit of mind is seen in the gesture of the body," and that "the body's movement is an index of the soul."

Reply to Objection 2. Although it is from natural disposition that a man is inclined to this or that style of outward movement, nevertheless what is lacking to nature can be supplied by the efforts of reason. Hence Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 18): "Let nature guide the movement: and if nature fail in any respect, surely effort will supply the defect."

Reply to Objection 3. As stated (ad 1) outward movements are indications of the inward disposition, and this regards chiefly the passions of the soul. Wherefore Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 18) that "from these things," i.e. the outward movements, "the man that lies hidden in our hearts is esteemed to be either frivolous, or boastful, or impure, or on the other hand sedate, steady, pure, and free from blemish." It is moreover from our outward movements that other men form their judgment about us, according to Sirach 19:26, "A man is known by his look, and a wise man, when thou meetest him, is known by his countenance." Hence moderation of outward movements is directed somewhat to other persons, according to the saying of Augustine in his Rule (Ep. ccxi), "In all your movements, let nothing be done to offend the eye of another, but only that which is becoming to the holiness of your state." Wherefore the moderation of outward movements may be reduced to two virtues, which the Philosopher mentions in Ethic. iv, 6,7. For, in so far as by outward movements we are directed to other persons, the moderation of our outward movements belongs to "friendliness or affability" [Cf. 114, 1]. This regards pleasure or pain which may arise from words or deeds in reference to others with whom a man comes in contact. And, in so far as outward movements are signs of our inward disposition, their moderation belongs to the virtue of truthfulness [Cf. 9], whereby a man, by word and deed, shows himself to be such as he is inwardly.

Reply to Objection 4. It is censurable to study the style of one's outward movements, by having recourse to pretense in them, so that they do not agree with one's inward disposition. Nevertheless it behooves one to study them, so that if they be in any way inordinate, this may be corrected. Hence Ambrose says (De Offic. i, 18): "Let them be without artifice, but not without correction."

Although the very feminine look of the postwar 1950s discouraged many women from wearing pants, by the 1960s and 1970s extremely casual clothes were the fashion. By the late 1960s pants on women became completely accepted, first for casual wear and finally for the workplace. Fashion leaders such as Yves St. Laurent (1936–) designed dressy pantsuits. By the late 1990s two-thirds of women in the United States wore pants to work several times a week.

Codified Common Sense

I believe that all the readers of this blog are of such age that the words below are fitting...if not, then leave now!!!!!!!

Does anyone even look at this blog anymore?

Objection 1: It would seem that femininity is variable, and defined by whichever woman you happen to ask, since femininity is merely "how women act", and different women act differently. Therefore, femininity is different in each woman, and can't be defined universally.

I answer that:

There is one "standard" of femininity, because God created one feminine nature. This nature is universal, and aspects of it are found in all women. The more women develop this nature, the more they become the creature God intended them to be, and thus, the more closely do they become united to Him and follow His Will.

Reply to Objection 1: If you are using a human-centered view of femininity, it is indeed true to define femininity by what individual women think it is. If you are using a God-centered view of femininity, it is true to define it as participation in that universal nature by which God distinguished the woman from the man, and gave her the qualities which suit her for the particular work He has set aside for her. Since we are to live according to God's definitions, not our own, the true definition of femininity is the God-centered one.

Here are a couple of pictures of me on the Vespa with my grandmother, who demanded a ride!










tearing up the street...















and returning triumphant from a whirl around the block.

So... tonight, at dinner, I was going to do the drawing as previously planned, but on discussing the names that the four little kids pulled out of the Vespa helmet (a sort of semifinal,) we all hated them, for various reasons -- too long, too blah, didn't make sense (like Violetta, which really means purple... right.) But then someone cried "Call it Celeste," which is Spanish for light-blue (and heavenly), and then someone brought up the fact that officially the color is "Aurora blue."

What's a sanguine to do? Choose both, of course! (And the nerd, Devil's Advocate, should have been happy, because the initials were still ACV.)

But on later discussion with the Devil's Advocate, Edward, LuciaRosa and the Stick Figure, we determined that Aurora Celeste is a horrible name for a bike... yeah, I guess it is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too romantic and fairy-taley.

So Tesla it is. If I feel like making it more girly I can always diminutive-ize and call her Tessie. Which is short for Teresa. Who is a cool saint...

Right.

I guess I'll have one of the Fathers bless/baptize Tesla next time I'm over at the school and one of them has a Rituale handy.

Yesterday was our good Jude Emblem's birthday! Happy Birthday late, Jude!

Quiz: what composer's birthday does he share? Answer tomorrow.

And early this morning, our beloved Dragon Lady headed off to school at the great and wonderful Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God Academy in Syracuse, New York, currently under the direction of FATHER STANICH! (dun dun dun duuuuuuuuuun.........) Hopefully we will still hear from D.L. (they are allowed internet access at the boarding house, though I don't know if she'll be allowed to blog from there.... but let's hope she will still show up on TradCats now and then!)


God bless them both and may they have a great year!

Yes, it is true, my friends... I am now the proud owner of a beautiful blue Vespa LX50. Here she is...














I thought of labeling her Violetta the Vespa, but nobody quite likes it, so any other suggestions for names are welcome! When I get a picture of me riding her I'll post that too!

I reprint verbatim Father Stanich's letter of this morning to the singers of the Jam Session, regarding the death of Father John Peek. (I knew him in St. Louis, many years ago.) May his soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

Dear Jam-Sessioners,

Greetings. I ask your prayers for Fr. John Peek who passed away this morning. Many of you had a chance to meet him in Dickinson. I still don't know the cause; I will give more information later on.

Sincerely yours in Christ,

Father Stephen Stanich.

This is the terrible tale of what happens to those who dare to slumber after watching Little House on the Prairie and having orthopedic surgery.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is a hot day at the turn of the century in a large mid-western town- St. Paul, perhaps- and I am standing on the dusty, busy mainstreet watching two handsome, tall, and slender young men with tall black top hats walk down the wooden steps of the college building. My mother, a buxom lady with an alarming resemblance to Harriet Olsen, is telling me I need to marry one of them. I simply must snag one of them! Every girl in town is flirting with them- I must as well. “No, Mother, I can’t- this is wrong- I simply cannot marry either of those two boys…” “Why can’t you?” “There is something terrible about it! I can’t! I won’t!”

~I wake up, somehow very disturbed with the idea of marrying these two young men. Why, I don’t know. The dream is not scary. It’s quite pleasant. I have to try to sleep! I drift off again… ~

“But darling, they are so refined,” says Mother, “and they write poetry! On little pieces of white paper! You have to get them to write poetry about YOU!” “No! NO, NO, NO! It’s impossible… it wouldn’t be legal to marry them; I have a feeling it wouldn’t…”

~I wake up again- who knows how many times I wake up- and say to the dark room, out loud, that this is just a dream and it’s NOT disturbing and I should just allow it to dream itself and allow myself to sleep! I lie down again… ~

“Why can’t you marry one of those handsome, slender young men? Name me one good reason why.” “Because… because… um, because I think they might be- my brothers, or something.” I am getting closer to the reason this dream is disturbing! I KNOW I am somehow very closely related to these two mysterious young men, and a marriage would be tragic. Although I’ve never read any of their small white papers of poetry, I somehow feel I have an intimate knowledge of it.

~Again and I awake and realize finally the reason I am so disturbed by my mother’s scheme. The two slender young men are my two now very skinny legs, their top hats my long black thick boots, and their poetry is written on the numerous large squares of white gauze held next to my incisions with a long wrapped bandage. I shake my head, force my eyes awake, and declare to the bedroom that these are not young men with poetry, they are legs with bandages. They are appendages of my own body, despite the fact that I can’t feel them or move them! THEY ARE THEY ARE THEY ARE! But the bedroom seems to ignore my insistent ranting, and I reluctantly fall asleep again, to be heckled the whole night in Walnut Grove by Mrs. Olsen, who cannot be made to understand that the young men are my brothers, OR that they are my legs.~
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Brought to you by MaryAnna H., the girl who was in the car crash; the girl who has retardedly long hair; the girl who attends some small chapel; the girl who insists on being in love with the wrong people; that girl you’ve been praying for because she’s a friend of your friend; you know, THAT girl?

Hey, all! for those of you who were wondering about our extended absence from and apparent neglect of the blog, we didn't abandon you! We were having some technical difficulties after switching from Explorer to Firefox, but the great, the wonderful, the Technologically savvy Edward saved the day!!! Three cheers for Edward!

We're up and running again now, so you'll see us around! I'll be on soon with some inside stories on boarding house life!

Love,

The Dragon Lady.

Test post.

A friend just sent me this video, recounting a Eucharistic miracle in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Absolutely amazing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qbg_dhI4XCs

GK Chesterton
from, Eugenics and other Evils
"...evil always takes advantage of ambiguity..."

The Viking

Okay everybody, quick vocab quiz: What is the definition of zeitgeist? Zeitgeist, anyone...anyone? Okay...zeitgeist is a German word meaning "time-spirit" and it is defined as "the spirit of the time; general trend of thought or feeling characteristic of a particular period of time."

So what is our modern zeitgeist? Modernism!! (cue the gagging!!) And what is controlling our modern-day zeitgeist? The media! (Bonus points if you said "Masons!" ;) TV, Radio and magazines have all been giving us a steady psychological diet of liberal ideas, and feminism has been a huge ingredient in that diet. Because of our modern saturation of media information, now many women hold feminist beliefs without even knowing it.

So in the interest of fighting all things feminist and the spirit of the world, here are what I believe to be the top ten feminist ideas that us women (and men) could quite possibly be absorbing in some way:

(1) Men are the enemy. Don't trust them. (And NEED them?!! Heaven forbid!!)

(2) Abortion is a sacred right. (Because... you know...it's just tissue)

(3) The "right" way to do anything is to do it like a man would-to serve and be vulnerable is loathsome. (Yes, it's better to be a woman-just don't act like one)

(4) Motherhood is subordinate to any kind of career. (Dollars are more important than persons, esp. little persons)

(5) Domesticity is for airheads. (Because if you had brains you'd be using them-at a job...)

(6) Marriage is a cop-out. (What is this, a fairy tale?!)

(7) Chastity is silly and uncalled-for. (Who cares? Fighting nature is too hard...)

(8) Men and women are equal, but women must be preferred in all situations. (Yeah, we're equal all right-just more equal than you...)

(9) Gender roles are oppressive and outdated. (Come on, what is this, the 50's?!)

(10) Patriarchy is the great evil. (Seriously, it's right up there with "intolerance"..)

The de Erausquin house has been given the name of Rivendell, the house of Elrond, not only for our love of all things Tolkien but for the hospitality Mami and Tata are famous for. Let me give you a brief picture of a typical barbecue night.

About four or five, the girls begin to set the table (all but the one who's taking care of the baby, if anyone is) and Rocio or Ignacio is sent to start the fire after the little boys gather enough sticks. By the time the guests arrive, the fire is blazing and Tata is starting to put red-hot coals into the grill to start the bratwurst cooking. Beer (or wine) and conversation ensue - both around the fire, where Tata is busily making more fire just in case, and in the kitchen, where Mami is making salad and directing the setting of the table by one or more of the girls. Of course, something always gets forgotten, be it water, wine, corkscrew, or napkins... and there's always an argument as to how many can fit at the grown-ups' table. (The answer is anywhere from eight to a dozen.)

When the brats are ready dinner is served - everyone crowds into the dining room, takes his place, and when the chaos is more or less over and the salad served, we say grace. Then the meat begins to be passed around, and at various points in the deafening roar of conversation and eating we have a brief interruption while someone gets sent to bring in the next piece that's ready.

When the meal is over, the younger boys are set to picking up the plates while the unfortunate older kid whose turn it is, complaining and protesting, goes to start putting them in the dishwasher. As there is never room enough for all the plates we use on a typical barbecue night, the rest must needs be done by hand. Another older girl puts on the coffee and begins to carefully bring out the delicate coffee cups and saucers (these, a wedding gift to Mami and Tata, are lovely, thin china, blue-and-white, with real gold-leaf edges and trim, so the one that breaks one might risk getting killed slowly and painfully!) At the same time, dessert is served. The little ones eat it quickly and clamor to be allowed to retire and play in the library; the grown-ups release them and enjoy the relative quiet over dessert and coffee.

At this point Tata is liable to say, "Inés (or Ignacio), bring me the guitar." The one so commanded hands him the gorgeous old instrument, which results in a long and meticulous tuning session in the course of which he will exclaim several times, "Ig, I don't know how you can play this thing in such bad tune!" Then he strums idly for a while, continuing the conversation, and finally we begin to sing the zambas, the wonderful (and usually sad) traditional songs of Argentina. I'll join in with the piano or recorder, and sometimes Ignacio picks up the smaller guitar and attempts to fill in some ornaments as well. Then comes the flamenco; and finally, I'll take the piano and (yes, I confess it) show off for a while, playing and then singing whatever I think of or whatever Tata asks for.

When the guests finally decide to go home it's usually close to midnight, and we are left to finish clearing and cleaning up and go to bed, usually with the prospect of getting up fairly early the next morning (as these are usually on Saturday, and there is, of course, choir practice and Mass the next day!)

Yesterday at work I had two elderly gentlemen sit at one of my tables. The one gentleman was somewhat friendly, but his friend was obviously never spanked as a child. This particular man had sat for less than two minutes during a busy Thursday night before I arrived to take the drink order and yet he demanded "Where's the drinks at I'll get 'em my self!". I'll be right back sir... So I fetch the drinks, post-haste, and on my way back to the table Grumpy is at the buffet line where the dinner rolls had just run out and were being replenished and yet, he thought it best to let everyone know that he wanted dinner rolls by banging on the empty tray right there at the buffet! I could not believe this guy's lack of manners or understanding at such a busy time of day! Worse yet, this guy probably wont tip very well if at all! (Sorry, but that's a big deal to us servers) You know what? This guy sounded like a challenge. Alright Grumpy. I'll play your game and kill you with kindness. See if you can stiff me then! Even though he continued to be as grim and gruff as before throughout the meal, I bit my tongue (and the quick witticisms in my head) and kept smiling while trying my best to deliver as good a service possible. When they were ready to leave it was Grumpy, and not his friendly companion, who handed me 20%! (Silent victory) So, even when something seems almost impossible all we have to do is try that much harder and things will work out for the better. Keep up the fight TradCats!

Oh Sleepover, oh Sleepover, You are a cherished thing,
That sends young hearts flying like bird upon the wing,

If someone doth ask why, the reason is apparent-
For "sleep" is just a code-word, to fool the guileless parent.

Instead of sleep there are other, better things that take place-
Such as putting a marker message on some sleeping innocent's face!

Oh, but it is just light-heartedness, or maybe too much candy-
Soda at outrageous hours can sometimes come in handy!

For there are times when sleep indeed doth threaten to occur,
But the mighty sugar rush rushes out to vanquish her!

Axis and Allies, Monopoly, Stratego and Parcheesi,
Intense games such as these can make the strongest hearts turn queasy.

And for the very brave a midnight snack is a delight,
The way all freeze when sound is heard is such a splendid sight!

And then, for fun and relaxation of the mind
Makeovers are just the right way to pass the time!

When games run out, it may just be a blessing in disguise,
For then turns are taken, ghoulish stories to devise!

There's always singing (not too loud!) and chatting in the dark,
That is the last that happens, and it ends the long night's lark,

For one by one the sleepy ones go dropping off like flies,
The last not long before the first hints of a sunrise.

Oh, Sleepover, oh Sleepover, you are the best of things,
Such things as you are the envy of cabbages and kings.

Anyone else tired of the whole "SSPX-is-schismatic" thing? I know I am... :)

Ok I am now able to finish typing it up. This is a poem I wrote awhile ago 02/15/08.

This is about when you were young and every thing is adventures and big. tell me what y'all think.

I wrote this 02/15/08, So its probably, not very good =/.

I just found out Conrad and Erin, were married Saturday, and Ines wrote a very pretty piece; which reminded me of a piece I wrote almost 2 years ago. It is very bad, but I thought I'd post it, to contribute to such a celebratory occasion. ( haha now you can see how bad I was =P)
God bless you, Mr. and Mrs. Conrad.

So it seems like much of feminism’s talk about women making an important “contribution to society” is based on the following line of reasoning:

Women must do important work.

Work men do is important.

Therefore, women must do men’s work.

So let’s break this down a little, starting with the first premise:

“Women must do important work.”

Yes, I agree with the feminist position here: women MUST do important work. Every woman was created by God to accomplish some part of His plan for society. However, unlike the feminists, I do not define this “contribution to society” as “anything usually done by men.” I think the main (notice I said “main”, not “full”) contribution to society God is looking for from women is through creating a happy home atmosphere, and raising responsible, mature sons and daughters. Society is made up of human beings, and in order to have a well-adjusted, pleasant society to live in, we need firstly well-adjusted, pleasant people. Good mothers are what make that happen. It seems the feminists forget this…

Secondly,

“Work men do is important.”

Why thank you, Captain Obvious-yes it seems men ARE somewhat useful. But wait! I just complimented men-if I was a feminist, wouldn’t that be a form of heresy?! Haha, I digress…anyways- behind this statement, there’s usually contempt of domestic work (making a home, raising children, etc.) in play. Since I already went into the importance of domestic work in the previous paragraph, I will not go into it again here.

Thus,

“Women must do men’s work.”

This is a fallacy and completely false. It logically “works” only if one thinks that men’s work is the ONLY option as far as “important things to do” goes. Once you realize that there are lots of important things to do besides “man’s work” (like say, “woman’s work”) then the conclusion can no longer follow from the premises given.

So there you go. Improper Concept of Feminine Societal Contribution: Refuted

Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all your hard work and dedication, your comments, sarcasm, and for getting the word out about our blog! We have officially hit the 1000 mark on the hit counter (I think I know where about 500 of that came from... =P) and that was only in a few weeks time! Now's not the time to relax however, since we only have 5 followers. We need to encourage more people to not only visit our site, but to join as well. That way they can be kept up to date on the latest posts and information we provide as well as a real show of support. Please let all your friends and family know about our site and encourage them to join! It's still free!!! =) My heart-felt gratitude to those of you who already joined! Also, my most humble thanks to my fellow contributors and co-administrator, love you all!

Viva Christo Rey!

Yep...Tradcats haz frustrashun....

What's up ya'll?!? (How's that for a little Cali-Midwest hybrid slang?) I'm Gloria and I'm the newest contributer to this blog and will now assault your mind with subliminal messages!!! Haha...kidding...I will be writing mostly about (well, against, actually) feminism and the role of women, but who knows...I might also write about any other aspect of being a Trad, (like, say...peanuts...) if the mood strikes me. Now, before I go: ahem... "Did someone say those in NEEEDD??!!" (sorry, inside joke...)

Last Thursday started up just like any other day. Wake up at 10:30 and get ready for work at the restaurant by 12. I am a server at a Steakhouse not far from where I live and this week I had more hours during the day shift which meant that I would be there for both the lunch rush and Senior's Hour, both of them good times for making money. It didn't take long for me to realize a dangerous pattern forming though. For whatever reason, people were not tipping! I would get a dollar or two here or there but the majority of customers would leave huge messes and nothing to compensate for my hard work. As far as I could tell I was not doing anything different. Still smiling, joking with customers, and providing quick service and yet after 4 hours of work all I had to show for it was $20. Ouch! Before I left for the day I remarked to a fellow server that "I'm not doing this out of charity here!" I was not in the best of moods.

Friday morning as I made my morning offering: Oh my Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings... my heart sank. Had I not made this same offering the day before? My remark from the previous day raced through my mind. "I'm not doing this out of charity"... I thought about this. What if I could do my work out of charity? My job's very name is server, so why not take joy in doing that? Concentrate on the work more than the suffering and do my job for love of my neighbor, whoever they may be, and trust God to take care of my bills. I decided to try my best.

Needless to say, Friday was one of my best days ever. Sure there were issues that needed to be resolved, but if not, then where is the love? Thursday reminded me that if all your actions are not guided by love of Him, that it will show in your daily actions and will affect how your day will go. I'm not saying that there will not still be bad days ahead, but at least now my heart and mind are in the right place so I can accept them when He so chooses.