Not Scrapbooking, Per Se

I love making scrapbooks.  Notice I didn't say I love "scrapbookING," which is an art form I have not mastered yet.  I am not really a true "scrapper" (to quote the lovable Blanche, from the must-see movie New in Town).

Scrapbooking is a relatively new craft, and I think it's totally awesome.  If it had been a craze back in my high school days, I would have been all over it.  I kept very basic scrapbooks, old-school style ones with beige construction paper pages and mementos taped or glued to them in a helter-skelter fashion.  My scrapbooks were not designer ones, to be sure--but I still have them and you can take a peek at what they looked like and what they contained by clicking on the link to this old post.

I kept scrapbooks for all of my boys, too: one for grade school, one for grades 9 through 11, and a special one dedicated completely to their senior year in high school.  While cleaning out the basement a few weeks ago, I came upon son #5's senior scrapbook, which I'd stopped working on when it was about 98% finished.  (I probably ran out of glue sticks, and one thing led to another...)  So I'm at work on it now, filling in the last chapters of his high school experience--graduation and the "Last Blast" after-party sponsored by his Catholic high school.

As you can see from this picture of my baby's almost-completed book of senior memories, my scrabooking style is no fancier now than it was back in the 70's.  But remember: I am the mother of  five SONS...and I don't think they'd be impressed by (or even notice!) all those little decorative doo-dads and add-ons, like buttons and bows and whatnot.

Do you keep scrapbooks?   And are they utilitarian, like mine, or are they Blanche-worthy?

Theme Thursday: Dad

Here's my husband with our boys in 1993, playing the role he lived for, sacrificed for, and loved: being a dad.

When our boys were growing up, he used to say that if a parent tries to be his kids' friend during their formative years (those all-important years when along with the love, they need healthy doses of guidance and discipline), then more often than not, it's difficult to be friends after they've grown up.  Parenthood is not supposed to be a popularity contest, he would say (a notion learned from his own excellent father).  And he was totally on board with that. His goal was not to be popular with his sons (not all the time, anyway, because he had to be tough on them when the situation warranted it); his goal was to raise fine upstanding men: men of character; men with their Faith and morals intact. His goal was to raise future saints.

Here's my husband with our boys in December of 2009, at the rehearsal dinner the night before our firstborn's wedding.  These boys men will always be my husband's sons first; but as you can see from this picture, they are now also his friends.

And I'll drink to that!

"Well done, Dad!"

I'm not only drinking up here (figuratively speaking, anyway), but I'm linking up as well--joining Cari at Clan Donaldson for a round of toasts to dads!

Woo hoo--a New Review!

I won't lie: I'm on a cloud today.  Yesterday, I was randomly checking my book's Amazon page and realized that there was a new reader review on there (bringing the number of reviews up to 10).  It was written by Sarah Reinhard, blogger (Snoring Scholar), author (you can check out a list of her books here), and chair of the Catholic Writers Guild Seal of Approval committee.

Thank you, Sarah!  Four stars never looked so good!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4.0 out of 5 stars A book you're sure to enjoy and that you'll want to share, June 10, 2013 By  Sarah Reinhard "Catholic wife, mother, writer... (snoringscholar.com) - See all my reviews (VINE VOICE)    (REAL NAME)    This review is from: Finding Grace (Paperback) I won't lie: this book was long. That said, it was REALLY well-written and the character development was stellar. It's set in the 1970s and early 80s, and the story is Catholic in a way that's both cultural and ingrained. It gave me a sense of what it's like to be raised Catholic and to have it be part of everything you do. Did that make you feel like it's shoved down your throat? Because it's not: not at ALL. One of the things I appreciated about this book is that it doesn't seem to talk down to its audience, which is the young adult market. It's written like literature and it seems to assume that its reader has a brain. I like that. It's a book I highly recommend and one I'll be sharing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I love this painting of Our Lady reading a book.  When I set out to writing Finding Grace, She was one of the critics whose approval concerned me most.  I wanted to please (and to glorify) this beautiful Lady and Her Beloved Son.  All the positive reviews in the world could never mean as much to me as knowing that Our Lord and His Mother approve of my work.  I'll never know that for sure until my life on this earth is over; but while I'm here, I must admit it's nice to get a thumb's up from a Catholic writer whose opinion I value so much.

Our House, is a Very, Very, Very Fine House...

...with two cats in the yard...

No wait.  We will NEVER have two cats in the yard.  Strays or feral cats, maybe; but not pet cats.  (I've told you this before--here, here, and other places.)

But it is a fine house: a lovely Colonial with big cat-free yards in front and back and thick deer-filled woods behind it.  I can't believe I live here--how blessed am I to call this place my home?

We moved into this house in December of 1990, when our oldest son was halfway through first grade and son #4 was three. Our fifth (youngest) son, who came along in 1993,  has never known any other home.

When we first moved in, our front yard had a huge dip in it (the drop-off was about as steep as a double-black-diamond ski trail), and we had numerous scrubby pine trees out there, too. Every spring, a huge pond would form in the front yard, and we had lots of frogs who took up residence (which was Heaven for our five boys, although for their mom...not so much).  In stages, as we could afford it, we had the trees removed and mountains of fill brought in, and now we have a gently rolling expanse of green lawn.

We've made a lot of other improvements over the years, slowly but surely.  After fighting (and losing) a yearly battle with constantly peeling paint, we finally got vinyl siding.  We replaced the roof a few years back. When the front door started rotting all around the frame after a couple of decades of harsh New England winters, we replaced it and at the same time added the small covered front porch and paved walkway.  About ten years ago, my husband, with the help of some of our boys, turned our attached garage into an awesome sports room/TV room--a man cave that we still call the "new room"--and we added a detached garage with doors tall enough to house our 15-seater fire-engine red Dodge Ram van (may she rest in peace).

We've enjoyed feathering this nest; and although it's emptier now than it used to be, we think we'll keep it-- for the foreseeable future anyway.  And best of all: as of a couple of months ago, we actually OWN it now.

My youngest son wrote about our house as part of an assignment for his freshman English class in high school, and I blogged about it almost two years ago shortly after he'd left home to start his college life.  If you're not too tired of this here post yet, you might want to stick around and read (re-read?) it.  (I believe my son might be the true writer in the family.)

Friday, September 9, 2011

My Son, the Writer

My husband and I homeschooled our youngest son for five years, from 4th through 8th grade--and this was an experience that was a complete joy and privilege for us. So during those years, I was my son's English teacher, and I became aware almost from the get-go that he was quite a gifted writer, especially for one so young.

We didn't homeschool our baby for high school--he attended the same Catholic high school to which his brothers had gone. One of the early assignments that his 9th grade Honors English teacher gave his class was an interesting creative writing project. The students were to create a "book" of sorts, by writing essays or very short fiction stories (unified in theme) that would form the "chapters." They had to make a front cover, compose a concise "about the author" blurb for the last page of the book (complete with a photo), and write up an attention-grabbing synopsis to put on the back cover. They also had to include some readers' comments along with the synopsis, so my baby asked his older brother and me to critique his work. Here's what my son's mommy, in her totally unbiased opinion, had to say about her boy's magnus opus: "A deeply moving and powerful narrative...this talented first time author gives the reader a glimpse into the heart and soul of a boy on the verge on manhood. Terrific!" I know that sounds over-the-top; but seriously, this seemingly mundane English project produced a rather impressive collection of eloquent prose--especially when you consider that it came from the pen (make that the computer keyboard) of a 14-year-old boy. His brother commented," A remarkable debut effort. Very insightful. I couldn't put it down." (Can you tell my #2 son and I were trying to make our comments sound like the kind you find on real book jackets?)

For proof that I'm not just an overly proud but delusional mother, I give you the first "chapter" of my son's "book," with minor details omitted for privacy's sake:

A Hidden Gem

If you are in the downtown area of [our town], go past the highway, turn right at the first intersection--you know the one, where if you go straight, people will mistake you for an employee at Liberty Mutual--and keep going down that road. Keep going, keep going. Eventually you come to a heavily-wooded area. It comes suddenly, as if you were flying a plane over Africa and crashed into the rainforest without warning. Then, after going through a roller coaster made of concrete, on your right you will see a street, my street.

It's a comfortable little neighborhood, not too grand, not poor. It is like a Hershey's chocolate bar: sweet enough to satisfy the wealthiest person's craving, but not too rich to upset the poor person's stomach or checkbook. To an outsider looking in, it is just another street among many others. But as with most great things in this world, sometimes you just need to scratch away the surface and see what's inside.

Driving down the street, there are pleasant houses on either side, all of them tucked behind trees and surrounded by forest, as if the woods were fighting violently to regain their lost territory. Though they look nice, keep going past these imposters. Keep going. Just a little further...There it is! [our address] My home.

It is the last house on the right; a big, white house with black shutters. It is a two story building with a large front yard, big enough to fit five rowdy boys who decided never to grow up. To common passers-by, it is just an ordinary house at the end of some street. And yes, like any home, it is where I sleep, it is where I eat, and it is where I live. But to me, it is so much more than just an inn or a breakfast nook.

It is a familiar face that says, "Hello there! How was your trip?" after I've traveled long distances; a life-long friend that is always there when I don't know where else to go. It is my playground, my home field advantage for all my backyard football games; where our family-famous Wiffle Ball homerun derbies are held. It is my place of study; where I have been schooled for the past five years and still get schooled. It is where I learned about life, about the One who made me, and the One who sacrificed Himself for us.

This is where the seven O'Callaghans* live. And although there are nicer houses on our street, our house is a hidden gem, stowed away from the rest of the world. It is everything I want out of a house. Everything I need out of a home.

(*This is the fictional family name my son used for his stories--but his fiction is otherwise very autobiographical, and he's really talking about the Pearls!)


It is good for this mother to know that, although he's far away now and becoming happily immersed in college life, this is how my youngest son--the writer!-- feels about his family home. 

You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream!

I truly think if I could eat only one food item for the rest of my life, it would be soft-serve vanilla ice cream cones.  (I guess I'm not ready just yet to try that "Whole 30" cleanse I've been hearing so much about.)

One of the best things about summer in this town is that our favorite little seasonal ice cream stand (which is located directly across the street from our parish church) opens up. And here's the scoop on the way the scoopers do their thing over there: seriously, I don't think you'll find more generous portions anywhere on earth.  Hyperbole?  Maybe.  But take a gander at one of the cones I got there recently.

If you're guessing this is a large, you couldn't be more wrong.  It's a MEDIUM!

One day about two weeks ago, after polishing one of these babies off while on an "errands and ice cream date" with my husband, I vowed to him that for the rest of the summer, I was going to order only smalls.  (I mean, those mediums are ridiculously big. And gluttony is a sin.)  Do you know what my beloved's response was?  "Why do you say that when you know there's no way you're ever going to stick to it?"

I've had three medium-sized cones so far, and it's not even mid-June.  And I've had exactly zero smalls.

That guy knows me better than I know myself, so I suppose there are more gigantic medium-sized soft-serve vanilla cones in my future.  (And the people rejoiced!)

{simple saturday}: Mon Fils Visite de la Tour Eiffel

My youngest son is doing a six-week college internship in Paris this summer.  (C'est magnifique, n'est-ce pas?)  He's traveling all about France while doing research on the WWI and WWII war memorials over there (many of which are dedicated to U.S. servicemen).  I miss him terribly, but I wouldn't have wanted him to miss out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity just because his mommy was having a severe case of separation anxiety.  He is learning so much--and seeing things I never dreamed he'd see by the age of 20.

For instance, he recently visited the Eiffel Tower.

[Le sigh...]

And that is all (c'est tout, if you'll excuse my French).  But you can head on over to Iris's now, for some other simply delightful posts.  Au revoir, mes amis!

"7 Quick Takes Friday," Volume 17: National Donut Day Edition

Did you know that today (the first Friday in June) is National Donut Day?  If you don't believe me, click on this link and read all about it.

I've been a bit of a linkaholic lately, so I was just going to do a short and sweet little post about donuts, my very favorite food item in the world (after soft-serve vanilla ice cream, or perhaps it's a tie...but I digress) and skip the fun of linking up for 7QTF.  But then my husband suggested that it's June 7, and I need 7 Takes for this link-up, and that seems to be a sign that therefore I should try to come up with 7 things to write about donuts.

He might be onto something there, I thought. I said, "You know what?  You're a genius! And YOU should write a blog."

So in honor of this important annual national holiday (which I somehow didn't know existed until this year), here are 7 Quick Takes (brought to you via a nudge from my husband) about one of the most delectable food items ever invented, the donut.

--1--

Here's a picture of "What I Ate Sunday" (not to be confused with Fine Linen and Purple's weekly link-up called "What I Wore Sunday").  It's not from Krispy Kreme or Dunkin' Donuts; it's just a no-name donut from the bakery section of our local grocery store. Mmmmm....Heaven.

Last Sunday's after-Mass brunch also included eggs, bacon, and a generously buttered English muffin.  If I eat like that every Sunday, I may be in trouble.

--2-- 

Speaking of Krispy Kreme, if you have branch near you (which we unfortunately do not), you might want to check out their National Doughnut Day giveaway.  It's SWEET!

--3--

Just in case you didn't bother to click on the link in #2...

Sorry for being repetitive.  But I really, really want to make sure you don't miss out on this golden opportunity.

--4--

Our family's two favorite comedians are Jim Gaffigan and Brian Regan, both of whom have some LOL-funny routines about different foods.  Regan has this hilarious sketch called "Donut Lady," which I was hoping to post here for your viewing pleasure--but I'm having technical difficulties.  If you go to YouTube and check it out, though, I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

--5--

This blog is not sponsored by either Krispy Kreme or Brian Regan.  I'm just doing some public service announcements.  Just giving credit where credit is due, out of the goodness of my heart.  (If the people at Krispy Kreme wanted to send me a lifetime supply of doughnuts as a way of thanking me, though, I would not decline the offer.  That goes for free tickets to a Brian Regan show as well.)

--6--

I'm a real history junkie (as well as donut junkie), so I was actually fascinated to learn that National Donut Day was created to honor the Salvation Army women who served donuts to soldiers during WWI.  (But then, you probably know that already--if you clicked on the helpful link I gave you way up at the top of the page.)

Here's some further history about the donut that might interest you--including the reason it has a hole in it, and why it's actually sort of patriotic to celebrate National Donut Day.

--7--

One last thing about my favorite (or possibly second favorite) food item on earth: when did the spelling change from "doughnut" to "donut"?  Are those pastries of the Dunkin' variety to blame for this widespread acceptance of the shortened spelling of the word?  I truly don't know which way to spell it anymore.

Well that's about all I've got to say about the rock star of the breakfast table, the donut (a.k.a. the artist formerly known as the doughnut).  So grab your coffee cup--and if you're lucky, your free Krispy Kreme doughnut (note that KK still spells it old-school style)--and head on over to Jen's for more 7's on the 7th. 

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!