Funny Thing Is, I Never Worry About Gumbo

A Note of Clarification: I didn't thoroughly proof yesterday's post. So it read like I was worried about the gumbo I made for the Fisherfolk. I wasn't worried. Gumbo is easy if you get your roux dark enough, which I did thankyouverymuch. No, the thing I'm attempting to not worry about was actually number 6 on yesterday's list.

Moving On: I was very eager for the not-State-of-the-Union last night. At the last one, as the President was announced and started walking toward the front of the chamber, I had this moment wherein I realized that the odds were really good that the next time that walk was made it would be by a woman or a black man. And I wanted to see it for real.

It was awesome.

I think Nancy Pelosi peed a little.

The grandest thing of all was the President's speech. Oh sure, I expected the elegant prose and Obama delivery. But it ended up being more than I expected. Because I have never ever in all my years of watching these annual addresses never ONCE heard a President talk to me like President Obama did last night. In the end, he wasn't making a speech so much as issuing a call to action, perfectly balanced between the statement of stark realities and encouragements of tangible hope. He looked, acted and sounded real. It was so refreshing.

Also, Michelle looked beautiful.

I didn't stay to listen to the rebuttal guy (I never listen to the rebuttal guy/gal. I think it is one of the silliest exercises in all of America politics. Let the President have his say...there's plenty of time to parse the validity or not of his words later. There's just something very silly about rebutting the State (or not-State) of the Union speech and that's why I never listen to the rebuttal). I ran over to see The Neighbor real quick and she muted Rebuttal Guy while we talked. I did note that his expression never changed and the cameras - at least on PBS - had him lit so he looked green. I decided he wasn't very impressive. The Neighbor said he was one of the GOPs newest, brightest lights. I felt bad for the GOP. When he finished his speech David Brooks, of the NY Times and my favorite conservative, looked apoplectic and did his best not to just laugh like a hyena. We did listen to him and he basically said that if the Republicans honestly think they are going to win hearts and minds by remaining mired in the past then they are just not going anywhere anytime soon.

I love David Brooks.

Also, interesting that the newest bright light tapped to do the rebuttal was the governor of Louisiana rather than, oh, I dunno, the governor of Alaska. Has the GOP already seen the error of their ways on that one? One can only hope.

And Finally: Today is Ash Wednesday so I'm not going to eat any meat. Or sweets. Or much of anything. You know what is sad, though? Yesterday was my last shot at eating sweetie things for 40 days and I didn't have a sweet-tooth. Isn't that just silly?

The Neighbor and I are going to go to services at the VA, which should be interesting. Actually, the most interesting part should be just taking a break and walking away from my desk...something I don't do very often. You have to understand, the nature of my job is such that I'm running around all the time and lots of my job is totally fun stuff like hanging out talking to people over coffee or pinching baby cheeks or, I dunno, organizing stuff (which you know I love to do). So it doesn't feel remotely like an office job though I have an office and jobs to do in it. But the point is that I rarely leave the house (except to shop for the house...which is also something I love to do), even for lunch because, hello? it's full of food.

But even though I love the house and the people in it and the things I do there I do need to walk away from it a little every day...to clear my head or see something new or disturb the notion that I'm indispensable. Whichever.

"See something new"...I just gave myself an idea for a Lenten art project. (makes note to pack up camera)

Have a good day.

Go in Peace to Love and Serve the Lord

I signed up The Child for the mission trip for 2 reasons. 1, it would give her something to do for a week and b) it had the potential to slap a little sense into her.

We haven't sought to spoil her, only child that she is. But let's face it, "entitlement" is a characteristic that teens manifest naturally. The fact that our culture feeds into that doesn't help. ("You're all winners!" No. Actually, you aren't). The Child expects to get what she wants, when she wants it. The fact that we don't always say "yes" to these desires, the fact that we insist on rules and consequences and chores somehow hasn't shaken her sense of entitlement. It just proves to her that we are really mean parents.

I figured a week working with kids who have soooo much less, coupled with sleeping on a basement floor, no television and even a stint in the fields doing some manual labor for next to no wages might open her eyes.

It wasn't until Mass on Sunday that I got another perspective on the opportunity.

There sat our 8 teens in their matching t-shirts. At one point The Spouse leaned over to me and whispered "I'm so proud of our little Boof". At the end of Mass Father called them forward for a blessing. He also gave them a charge, reminding them that they are examples of God's love, and extension of caring from our parish and that they were examples to all of us, giving up a week of their summer to serve the least among us. Wow. And then he had the congregation stretch out their hands in blessing as he prayed, the whole community sending forth some of our own to love and serve. I got more than a little varklempt.

Afterward, people kept coming up and saying "You must be so proud". And I was. But I was torn, too.

Before church, The Child was being as much a teen as it is possible to be. I couldn't tell her anything.

"Did you remember to pack your..."

"Yes, Mom". (eye roll)

"Do you have your..."

"YES, Mu-uh-om". (double eye roll and hair flip)

She didn't want me to stand around or help load the van (like the other parents). She didn't want to talk to me, didn't want to sit with us (most of the kids didn't sit with their parents but still). She was cool and self-possessed and mature and it was lovely to see. But it kinda hurt. I know I have to make friends with this pain. It won't last forever and it is normal. She's supposed to move away from me, from needing me. I really do get that and it's what I want. But still. Ouch.

I knew she wasn't going to tolerate anything so humiliating as a good-bye hug but I wanted to do something. Communion came. She was sitting at the end of the pew so as I went forward for Eucharist, I just very lightly put my hand on her shoulder without looking at her. She grabbed my hand, pulled me in and laid a big kiss on my head.

It was all I was going to get but it was enough.

For City Mouse

Sometimes it's really hard to be a mom. 'Cause your job is to let them leave. That can suck.

I ♥ you, babe.

"You'll be in My Heart"
Phil Collins