Tavern in a lake town

Mom and I went to a lake town. The GPS led us to a nonexistent grocery store, so we stopped at the local tavern to eat instead. A silhouette of a cowboy and another of a topless woman decorated the outside. We wandered in anyway. 

Inside the entire bar turned around to look at us. Luckily it wasn't a strip club. 

We ordered what we knew would be disgusting food, straight from the freezer.  I actually watched the guy take it out of the freezer and put it in the fryer. We ate it anyway.

Our glasses had ice on the outside because they were "chilled." The waitress came by with a rag to wipe off our entire table, including ice chips from the outside of the glasses, while we ate our meal.

The people at the bar were all locals and laughed with each other. It was enjoyable to watch. 

At the end of our meal, which neither one of us finished, my mom went to the bar to get the check. She noticed the waitress only charged us for the meal. My mom had ordered iced tea and I got a ginger ale. 

The woman looked at the check and said, "Oh no, you're the designated drivers!" She still didn't charge us for the drinks. 

I tipped my hat to the shadowy cowboy and bid that town a good night :)

Peter and the Smokin' Car

I started my journey home from Massachusetts a bit later than I had planned because I found a pond that begged me to swim in it. Then I saw a farm with homemade ice cream...

Finally, I got back in my car at 5 p.m. to begin a seven hour drive, at the end of which I met Peter who miraculously fixed my car and reminded me of the first Pope.

At the ice cream shop, the man in line behind me suggested his favorite flavor, which I got. He told me the story of when he dove with a video camera to the bottom of the pond where I had swum.

“What’s down there?” I asked.

“Blackness,” he responded. 

I was mid-bite on a bench behind the ice cream shop when I witnessed a Corn Hole miracle. A dad tossed four bean bags in a row straight into the wooden board hole! I shook his hand on the way to my car.

The roads meandered by farms and lakes, little stone walls, deer and a raccoon family. My ride was an extra hour, but I avoided New York City traffic and tolls after I got the MapQuest app for my phone.

At one stop, I helped an Indian family with little English find their way to New York City. The mom took pictures of my cell phone directions with her smart phone.

The last stop I made was a couple hours later, out of necessity. I had crossed a few one lane bridges, and had just traveled down a gravel road when a new light shone on my dashboard, not to mention my car smelled like burning.

Yeah…so there was a lake on my right and was on a rural streetlight-less road. Even if I knew where I was, how would AAA even find me?

I prayed and drove. I only had an hour to go. Finally, I saw one open establishment: a bar.

Two men and two women sat at a table outside. I stopped the car, watched as it started smoking, and approached the table.

“Do any of you know about cars?” I asked.

“I know a little,” said one of the men.

He got up and looked under my hood. Then he checked my oil.

“Damn, that’s hot!” he shouted.

“Yeah…I’ve been on the road for seven hours.”  I discerned that he wasn’t drunk.

He pulled out his cell phone and called a friend.

No answer.

A minute later, the friend called back.

With no introduction, the man said, “Hey, I got a..." and named the make and model of my car as if it was broad daylight and he ran a mechanic shop (which he didn’t).

It was 11:30 p.m., but the friend not surprised with the car request. He answered the questions and hung up.

It turned out I had accidentally pushed a button on my gear shift to make the light go on, and I had too much oil in my car from when my engine was switched.

And the man who helped me had just switched the engine of another car…maybe he had more than a “little” experience.

Everything was solved in 5 minutes.

I was elated. The table cheered, “Welcome to Pennsylvania!”

I laughed. The whole time I thought I was in New Jersey.

As I left, I asked the man his name.

Peter.

That’s the miracle.

I had just come from a retreat where I meditated on Jesus’ call of Peter, “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church.”

I thought, of course Jesus would have picked Peter. A common fisherman, who probably would have hung out a local bars and fixed people’s boats if they were leaking. Jesus gave him a new identity—in Himself-- and he impacted the whole world.

Gotta git my nails did to match my swim cap

What I like about Aqua Zumba is my friend who covers up half her weave with a neon green swimming cap to match her neon green nails. 

"You trying to keep just half your hair dry?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah the top part..." she laughed. 

Functionality replaced by fashion.

#OnlyInAquaZumba

Every day miracles.

Every day miracles.

My friend’s car broke down—billowing smoke-- in a neighborhood on her way to work this morning. She’s a Catholic school teacher and single mom and doesn’t have easy funds to fix the car, but God provided some consolation. A woman emerged from the house where her car was and invited her in for a cup of tea.

I met up with friends with whom we shared a house five years ago. It was one of the friend’s graduation party. She just gave birth to her second child at age 43, and finished her graduate degree which took her five years to complete given life changes. She got married to her husband of the same age at 40, and they both received free cars in their lives when they were poor. They’re still broke, and someone just gave them a minivan.

There was a substitute teacher at Aqua Zumba tonight. She played Tina Turner's Rolling On The River. Twice. Everyone got so into it that people asked her to play it again at the end of the class. So she did, and the people in the hot tub stood up to watch.

Amen.

A song for the road

The woman in front of me at church today ripped out the "Sing of Mary" song from the hymnal. 

I don't think it was premeditated. It think it might have even been spontaneous worship.

She ripped it slowly and methodically, then carefully folded it into her windbreaker pocket. She didn't glance once over her shoulder to see who might observe her-- the act was clearly justified by God.

I laughed as she ripped. And found it difficult to stop.

I wondered what went through her mind. 

"Mary's my mama, and May is her month. Now I get to sing this sweet song to her all the days we have left!"

"Bet they don't have this one on Google..."

"Oh, I just love this song... 2015 is almost over anyhow... They'll get new hymnals soon."

"#711 is my lucky number! Better take the whole page..."

"I definitely made my Ascension obligation. Here's my proof."

Amen.

Street Name

"What's your street name?" asked the cashier at the vitamin shop.

My mind was distracted, so I pondered...

Why would he want to know my street name? Like my gangster name? 

I thought hard about the possibilities, but didn't have a good one to share.

"I don't think I have a street name," I replied. "Do you want my first name instead?"

"No, I want the name of the street where you live."

Amen.

Beyond My Wildest Beliefs

It happened. Jesus rose from the dead, and my students saw me at Aqua Zumba.

Jesus, help my unbelief!

Six of nine kids from one family flocked to the warm pool’s shallow side and bug-eyed the lap pool to watch Zumba. I waved.

I told their mom at lunch duty that I hoped her kids weren’t scandalized as their gawks shifted between me and my sexy instructor. She laughed.

Later she sent me an email and mentioned she might join me.

Anonymous happy place: Found out.

I thought about how a hypothetical Aqua Zumba parent teacher conference might go:

“How’s my son fairing in Math? (underwater body roll). “Oh, you know…he’s failing, but I can see that he really puts in the effort…(“EEEEE! The instructor lets out a battle cry and demonstrates a booty shake).

“Do you think we should do more work at home?”

“Yes, I think that might help.”

“She can really get down can’t she?”

“Umm yes; she really is a professional.”

#professionalboundariesdown. Suit up.

Amen.

Peace Within

May today there be peace within.  

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.  

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.  

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.  

May you be content knowing you are a child of God. 

Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.  

It is there for each and every one of us.

Teresa of Ávila

Miracle Stories

Miracle Stories. I glanced through a few old journals tonight, taken from my 10 gallon tub of them accumulated in the past 15 years.

Some greatness popped out.

Like when I left Ireland after a semester abroad in college. My dear Irish friend wrote me a departure letter and included a Scripture verse: Mark 2:11. I looked it up with another Irish friend later; it read: "Pick up your mat and leave."

She laughed so hard, she ended up seated on the floor in my closet.

After that, we reminisced about the semester and looked at every nook in my room to remember everything. Then, just for fun we embarked on some rebellious evangelization: we climbed into the top of my desk and wrote "Jesus Saves" with our names and the date above the doorway, very small near the molding so you couldn't see it from the floor--I bet it's still there and blessed every person who ever stayed there...

The man who wrote the letter once put an orange on my desk in the middle of class; another time, he tried to split a minuscule piece of chocolate with me, which was impossible to break because of its size. My sister and I stayed at his house two years later, and he showed us how he taught his cows to lick the toes of his boots.

In 2008, I wrote a reflection on the plane ride home from India my senior year of college. "Lord, help me to realize my own worth is the gift of life you gave me, your love within me."

In 2011, I asked my mom how people can be content in this life. She said: loving people so much that you forget yourself (but still renew yourself so you can give), letting go of pride, detachment from material things. Live simply and love God.

That same night, I met a woman at a Lectio Divina gathering who said, vocation is the meeting of what you are most passionate about with what will most help the world.

DIT: Do It Together!

If Nike and Pinterest got married, we’d get a new slogan: Just Do It (Yourself!) #JDIY. There’s a trend now of DIY projects. DIY stands for “Do It Yourself,” but I’d rather DIT: Do It Together.

It’s easy now to YouTube how to build one’s own coop, raise one’s own chickens, and apparently, make one’s own cupcakes with ingredients from grocery store displays (different than the tried and true box mix…??).

DIY is cool in some sense because it makes people realize their own creativity, practice resourcefulness, and feel a sense of accomplishment. But does it also promote competition and isolation?

DIY successes and failures are posted all over social media…and I love to see them when I’m trying to make gluten-free, organic, clean, paleo, wild-grown blueberry, food-processed raw almond flour muffins, but the thought of “DIY” kinda makes me sad.

I’d rather harvest wild-grown blueberries in community.  And watch close by as plumbers fix my hot water heater, and shine their flashlight on the squash I’m cooking, and say… “Ok if I move your fruit?”… I’d like to DIT: Do It Together!

I think Mary is the bridge for this communion. This past Saturday I had an organic experience of prayer outside an abortion center. Catholics and Protestants prayed for an end to abortion—together.

First, my friend and I arrived and were about the start the Rosary when a Protestant man and family joined. My heart wanted communion, but I didn’t know how it would work.

The Protestant man and the family prayed spontaneously. It was beautiful. Totally life-giving. But I still desired to pray the Rosary.

My friend and I prayed the first decade. The man said, “Yeah this just isn’t for me.” He prayed an incredible spontaneous prayer about family, and the Holy Spirit inspired me to ask, “Why don’t we just do that for every decade?”

He agreed.

We prayed the Rosary with brief scriptural meditations on each mystery. Between, this faith-filled man added spontaneous praise and prayer.

Our little group prayed together for an hour. My friend and I committed to stay another hour, but the first inspired the second: we were so filled with the Holy Spirit from our experience of communion that we sang children’s songs and handed out more crisis pregnancy pamphlets than ever because people were moved by our joy.

We’re made for communion!

Mary, unite Christians worldwide especially this Holy Week. And bring all your broken people to Christ to heal us TOGETHER!

Amen.

Ash Thursday

It's still Lent. I was reminded this morning when one child blessed another with holy water and an ashen cross appeared on her forehead. Marker hands. Act of love.

You Are Mine

“Teacher, remember to read You Are Mine.” My student asked me for two days. Today, I stopped the lesson and just read it.

You Are Special. You Are Mine. These Max Lucado books capture the hearts of my children and me. You Are Mine tells the story of little wooden man Punchinello who sells his house and loses his friends to have the most balls and boxes so the other wooden people will say he is the best. He stumbles upon woodcarver Eli’s house while en-trek up a mountain of greed, ambition and selfishness.

Eli looks at the poor creature he made and doesn’t condemn him. He simply reminds him that he is special not because of what he does but because of who he is. He tells him, “You are mine.”

In the end, Punchinello has no place to sleep that night. Eli invites him to stay in his shop. Punchinello sleeps on a bed of straw and sees stars through his open window. He rests and smiles with joy.

Today I looked through old pictures and came across a room where I stayed in Canada. I remembered that I had a simple bed there; I fed hay to animals; and my friend appreciated the stars on a winter night with me. I experienced joy.

God brought me to that place of simplicity, community and told me, “You are mine.”

The book You Are Mine finishes with Punchinello at rest, but that is not the end of his story. He doesn’t have a permanent house; he hasn’t reconciled with his friends; he has no job and no money.

I’ve felt that in my life.

But God provides. He says again and again. Emmanuel. I am with you.

Today is the feast of the Annunciation. I prayed for a miracle.

My car was in the shop twice for a month and still has trouble starting. I’ve seen more doctors that I can count this year and I still feel sick. I feel sad when I think I am 30, my family is "broken," and don’t have a clear “vocation” or “mission.” 

(And yet I sometimes think of my brother's wisdom...#30andflirty... and remember the year's just begun!)

Nevertheless, God gave me Himself…he tells me, "I AM the miracle. I am the depth of your need. I never promised that there would be no pain, no suffering. I said there is light in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it."

My God is a place of rest. I can go to Him when I am lost mid-hike up the mountain.

Today I choose joy. Because I saw the stars in the sky. Because I listen to children every day. And I am His.

Hope Springs Eternal

Here's my snow day gratitude list.

I'm grateful for humor.

My Candian friend said she's glad she's not in America today! ... As if the whole country got the three inches that let me off school.

#"I'mcanadian"

#"oursnowemergenciesaredifferent."

I'm grateful for hopeful stories of victorious perseverance.

Another friend told me about a woman who broke her leg and couldn't bath herself for 200 days. Her husband gave her sponge baths. A year later she did a fundraiser walk she never thought she'd be able to do. 

I'm grateful for a couple who couldn't conceive for years and is pregnant. 

I'm grateful for another couple who went through the adoption process for years and finally adopted a little boy this year.

In my own experience, I'm grateful for a snow day when I'm sick. God always provides! 

I'm grateful for a free rental car when my car's in the shop! 

I'm grateful for a letter from my friend about his time with the poor in Harlem-- and how one woman with a drug addiction found solace in her foot pain by wondering about Christ's pain in the cross. 

Thank you, Jesus.

Amen.

G-free rolls

How's a woman to know when her filet mignon gluten-free little muffins are done?

Let 'em sit in the warm off oven till they're probably good? Yeah.

So...I opened the box and made the mix using just three bowls! Then I realized I didn't have a loaf pan, but well, I'm human so I can maybe make creative little heart and star biscuits on a cookie sheet if I want...

But first I have to let the dough rise... And maybe I'll put it in a warm oven to help it along and melt the celophane to the top of the bowl...

Then I'll realize it's too sticky to make cute shapes and I'm too tired to food proceeds oats into flour to prevent the dough from sticking to my hands, so I'll just make rolls...

But once you make gluten-free rolls that look like scrumptious Irish scones, you'll definitely want some dairy-free clotted cream to go with them.

Just the thought of the spreadable nondairy miracle will remind you of sugar-free, organic, straight-from-the-bush-raspberry-jam...

Which you know you'll have to get if you ever give your sensitive moose friend, who lives in the woods near the raspberry bush, a gluten-free Gucci muffin.

#ifyougiveamooseamuffin, you'll want a doctor's note to go with it.

Amen.

Remote Rattler

It was three days after April Fool's Day last year, and one of my student's brought a remote control rattle snake for show-and-tell.

The whole class had a turn to make it move around the classroom... And then came the trick!

"I dare you to make it go under the divider into Second Grade," whispered one boy to another.

Of course, the teacher heard. But she thought the amusement factor was too high to dissuade the youths. So she kept quiet.

Second Grade let it roar! "AHHHHHHHHHHH! It's a snake! Get out! Go! Go! Go!"

Children literally ran out of their classroom and all the way down the hall. The secretary and headmaster vacated their offices to attend to the noise and fleeing children.

And the First Grade teacher, though completely shocked at the level of excitement, watched from her room with silent mirth and no regrets.

Parking Lot Skating Rink

“Hello, Miss!,” the librarian just walked down three levels of a handicapped ramp next to my armchair before he greeted me.

“I don’t want to alarm you but the parking lot is a skating rink. It is very dangerous. And because it is night it is even worst,” he said with an accent I couldn’t decipher.

It’s just me and the librarian. Why? Because I wanted to write, and I don’t really heed “winter weather advisories.”

“So, what I did was call security. And he has to call his boss. And he had to call his boss’s boss, the head maintenance man who is somewhere in the area. And he is going to come and put salt down.”

Why don't we save that MIA maintenance man the effort and grab the salt shakers from the cafeteria? Then we can shake that crystallized calcium and what our mamas gave us all of the parking lot! That should do the trick!

Or, if that boss can’t be tracked down because he’s at his house eating a homemade supper, we could all order gluten and dairy free tomato-less pizza, find someone with cleated boots to rescue it from the delivery guy at the main gate, and have a sleepover at the seminary!

“They said snow, but there is no snow. They said rain, but there is no rain. Only ice. I didn't think it would get this bad. I will keep you posted!”

And I will lace up my skates!

"All over my bleedin' body!"

A fond memory from last Spring rumbled through my mind today:

My friend told one of her 4-year-old student’s to greet me, knowing the child’s gift to amuse.

With no concept of an indoor voice and no salutation, my coworker’s Pre-K charge shared the first thought on her mind.

“My dad made a deal with me. If I don’t stop scratchin, he’s going to put tape all over my bleedin body!” she shouted to me and a hallway full of children.

The cherub had allergy-related sores on her arms which often bled when she scratched them.

“If I keep scratchin,” she screeched, “I won’t be allowed to go to school because blood will come off of me all over the floor!”

My goodness! That would be quite a predicament.

Thankfully, the little girl’s sores are cured this year and she thrives as a full-blooded Kindergartener.

Just gimme a mop and I'll park the car

"I think I just need a mop to put in the recycle can so I can see it."

Parallel parking 101.

Let that orange mop head stand like a flag as the bumper of a pretend car...

I failed my drivers test three times before I got my license at the age of 17. But I nailed parallel parking because my cousin  had just gotten her license and taught me with encouragement, confidence, perseverance, and trashcans to mark the spot in my driveway. 

Today I got to share those skills with another young driver! 

God, you make all things work together for your good. Redemption! Amen.

Lent bears fruit, and chocolate

We played Spelling Word Bingo in class today. My friend in the front row won! Miracle! So I gave her a Hershey’s Kiss.

Class moved on, but this little one unwrapped her chocolate candy and put it on her desk. Then, in her own world, she talked to it. No one observed but me.

“Oh, you look so good! I really want to eat you, but I’m not going to eat you! But I really want to eat you! I bet you taste really good!”

I watched amused, then I bent down and quietly asked her if she was talking to her chocolate.

“Yep!”

“What are you saying?”

“That I really want to eat it, but I’m not going to eat it because I gave up chocolate for Lent.”

 Wow. 

I told her she inspired me and encouraged her to give it to another classmate so she wouldn’t be tempted, so she did.

There is joy in suffering. Miracles exist! God speaks through people—especially the little ones.

Amen.

30

Thank you God for the gift of life! Jesus is my retirement fund. Let's plunge into the third decade with joy and hope for the future full of great surprises! 

Gratitude makes miracles.

Amen.

Feastin

I might not be able to eat sauerkraut right now, but I can still eat the Eucharist!

And when I'm dealin with the diseases of a 50 year old man, God still loves me!

He gives me babies and baby mamas who say, "When I feel lonely, I remind myself that feelings aren't reality." 

Cause I have a huge family of lots of people who love me, and the whole host of saints, Angels and Jesus Himself are there with me when I am feeling alone.

And God made me. So that's something to write home about. Creation. Beautiful. He takes care of it. Oh, and that probably means He kinda likes me--no HE LOVES  ME !-- and He might, no, HE WILL TAKE  CARE  OF  ME!

With a little boy who watches the priest blow out the candles with a long stick, and whisper to his dad that I'm his new friend.

Friends with a 2-year-old! Couldn't get better. Amen! Holla back! Praise the Lord! Thank you Jesus! 

Amen.

Family Love

Thank you God for friends who know when to encourage, when to help, and when to just listen. 

Thank you for family time with a friend and her children today, for the gift of snuggling with my Godson, for dancing and laughter and jokes.

And thank you for Steve Carell and his hilarious performance in Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

Amen

Baby Girl...Ba-by Girrrrllll

Oh it was a bangin’ song! So the man behind me called out: “One more time!” Which inspired the seasoned woman beside him to shout the next most obvious ejaculation, “Two more times!”

Only at Aqua Zumba.

The speakers were shoddy for one song, but we needn’t have worried. Pipes in the rear belted the whole tune with two words: “Baby girl!” Ba-by girl…ba ba ba baby girl!” Any part he didn’t know—which was every other lyric, was hum-substituted with “Baby girl!”  

My pot-bellied, tattoo plastered, union leader-type friend, with the local football team inked between his scapulas, tried his best to arabesque at the end stretch.

“I can’t do that,” he shared with me.

Hmm...

“We can only do what we can do,” I encouraged. (I affirm myself the same way).

We chatted some more after class.

“I missed class last week because I was in Arizona.”

“Oh, why were you there?”  Business trip?

“I was at the Super Bowl.”

What the what?

“I’m gonna go see how much more I can sweat off.” And he sauntered to the sauna.

I just can’t get enough of my Aqua Zumba friends.

Amen.

Weekend Reflections

I usually ask my students on Monday mornings to name one thing that happened over the weekend.

"My brother was so excited that the Patriots won that he jumped up and down and yanked his tooth out! And it wasn't even loose!"

"My sister got to see her Fairy Godmother. She didn't get to see her Fairy Godfather, just her fairy Godmother."

Super Big Lion

Katy Perry can ride a lion, but God created the roar. 

I was entertained, Katy, but I really enjoyed Missy Elliot's appearance.

"I just had a vision that I was going to make a big play and it came true," said Malcolm Butler, Patriots footballer ...I'm just blessed. I can't explain it right now. It's crazy."

God make your vision mine. Little play by little play.

Northern Memory

A friend and I wrote this little song before we visited friends in a Catholic community up North last month.

Up North

We were tryin to write some lyrics and we almost missed our exit

We scrambled for directions that were written in the margins

Scribbled down oh so fast

To avoid roaming charges

I guess we should have written them before we crossed the boarder

But we were too distracted as we tried to cover over

The fruit we weren’t supposed to have

And expired registration

Oh we won’t hesitate no more, no more

It’s time to drive up North

Where there’s piles and piles of snow

At least we thought it would be so

Up North

We came right into dinner to some overstimulation

A wave of a reminder that it’s not simply vacation

I reckon it’s again our turn

To apron up and do dishes

I’d like to grab the one with the holly and the ivy

A seasonal reminder of the joy you’ll findy

As you scrub the pots and pans

And then scrub the scrubbies

Oh we won’t hesitate nine hours was short

Now we’ve arrived up North

Where there’s just a touch of snow,

But piles of clothes

In the 'ole laundeee

But seriously we gained a lot of stuff here from the laundry

And if I scorched your shirt

I knew you would forgive me

You taught me to be family

And to find my inner beauty

You civilized us city girls and now we’re one step closer

We can set the table

And nap when we’re supposed to

Sanctification must be just around the corner

Oh we won’t hesitate no more, no more

It’s time to leave up North

Where piles and piles of love have filled us up

We’ll soon explode if we don’t leave

Up North

Thrifty Grandma

My roommate just gave me fabric donated from her grandma to use for my stuffed elephants. 

Her grandma lovingly packaged it in a turkey deli bag from the local grocery store.

Thank you, Jesus.

 

Noise Violation

Got an email from the property manager: Red Hot Chili Peppers blared at 11:30 pm was "Obviously a noise violation."

Like, I know...my walls shook. 

But I wonder if the composer would've been been named or the tone of the email different if my neighbor had blasted opera instead.

Translated from Italian and recited in a British scotch-drinking voice, the telegram might have read, "As the clock ticked toward midnight, a bombastic tenant had the audacity to assert his musical preference to the entire commune. The insufferable rendition of Jacopo Peri's inaugural score was most uncouth and is certainly intolerable."

"Any sympathetic to such pompous pollution should simply pack their pedantic wine and handcrafted ravioli and relocate to another locale."

I have no idea who Jacopo Peri is and can't name one of his operas.

Amen.

Dancin w/ Kids

The other day I felt inspired to move my body after lunchtime. I'm not sure that I've danced in my classroom at all yet this year. I walked in and just did whatever came to mind. 

There's a little girl in my class who has a permanent front row seat. She gave an externally processed commentary as I moved. 

"She's twisting her body. She's moving her shoulders up and down....What are you gonna do next, Teacher? Head, Shoulders Knees and Toes?"

Amen.

Dim the Lights

Tuesday night Aqua Zumba did not disappoint. The lights flickered and a man walked in wearing a tiger print speedo to swim laps. Just keep the bulbs dimmed, baby, and call it mood lighting! My, oh my…

I was also met a woman in the class who fractured her sesamoid…old dancer’s injury…just like me! She said we could switch feet and I’d not have to deal with the pain! What a beaut!

She’s also a teacher, and grew up Catholic.

What are the odds?

We share a love of Hip-Hop, so I invited her to my birthday party; unfortunately, she has a family soup party that night instead.

Thank you God for interesting people.

Amen.

Birds from heaven

My friend's grandmother in law told her family she would give them a sign when she got to heaven. 

"It's going to be this," she said as she raised her middle finger. "The third finger will be the sign."

The elderly matriarch died today. I  sincerely hope one of their family members gets flipped off tomorrow--what a gift that would be!

Country 'n Hip-Hop Mixin it Up

When a Country tune references a hip-hop dance the world gets a little more hilarious.

"Well the boys 'round here, they're keeping it country / Ain't a damn one know how to do the dougie / You don't do the dougie? / No, not in Kentucky"

My car radio settings are now: Country, Old School Hip-Hop, and Christian. 

Amen.

Chico and Nugget

Once upon a time there was a little bird named Chico. His best friend was a mouse named Nugget. Chico and Nugget lived in a big boarding house where lots of people came in and out night and day from all over the world.

Sometimes at night the guests would play card games and laugh and laugh. One of these nights, the little bird heard a man with a high throaty laugh named Chico. The little bird liked the sound it made when he called, “Chi-co, Chi-co,” so he decided to keep it for his name. He whistled it softly to himself that night as he settled in under the eaves.

Nugget’s scratching woke him in the morning. Chico quickly stretched his wings and opened his beady eyes to find the source of the noise. A mouse quivered by the doorpost and nibbled a split pea.

“Breakfast!” thought Chico.

Normally Chico would eat bugs and seeds in accordance with his statue, but today with his new name he felt bold and fierce.

The mouse was surprised to see such a small bird descend upon him, but the gleam in its eyes was undeniable: hunger.

Luckily, the little mouse had watched the borders’ exercise videos and he leaped nimbly aside. Chico’s inexperience drove his beak into the ground as he lay eye to eye with the mouse.

“You don’t want me,” said the mouse to the bird. “I’m just a little nugget!

“A bird of your might would take much more to fill; I bet you could eat the whole head of a sunflower.”

Chico’s curiosity was piqued and he rose to the challenge. A great windfall befell Nugget who ate all the seeds that fell from the messy bird’s beak.

A friendship began—at first superficial, until Nugget’s leg was broken by the banging porch door and Chico brought him seeds and sap to heal him right up.

“That’s a great story, Penelope. But if I wrote it, Nugget would never have got a broken leg,” said TANK, “because Chico would have eaten him in one gulp!”

Penelope rolled her eyes and lightly pushed her little brother from the stump he sat on to the grass beneath his feet.

“Nice plot,” she said, and walked off to find her journal.

Aquatic Entertainment

Aqua Zumba. Hilarious. The instructor dances outside the pool and simulates water resistance with huge movements like her limbs defy gravity. But then she can’t help herself and she shimmies till the cows come home and does a few booty drops. 

I’d love an underwater camera to capture these moves of the mostly middle-aged, older adult class… definitely prime footage for a gangsta rap music video.

My students just finished swim practice—I saw them in the hall in a quick confidence booster celebrity moment—and I’m glad they didn’t see me get down to songs I don’t let them sing in school. 

“Our teacher is HOT is Aqua Zumba class”…cause that’s fun recess banter, and pics might boost school website hits. 

“After a vigorous day of Latin instruction, our teachers burn off their extra energy at the local Y” …Latin instruction…hahaha…extra energy...oh my.

Lynne doesn’t like “land Zumba” because people can watch her. I’m thinking she can get as sexy as she wants under water, but she’s just self-conscious that she doesn’t know the moves.

I’m pretty sure the middle-aged black guy behind me wouldn’t care if he didn’t know the moves “on land.” He just wants to sing along and “git it!” “We work hard; we play hard”…. “BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”

And the comfortably padded mature woman took her time as she climbed the ladder out of the pool. She covered her floral one-piece with a pink bath towel and just stood huddled awhile.

“I’m trying to get the courage to walk into the locker room,” she giggled. “Oooh, and then we have to go outside,” she shrugged her shoulders in delightfully endearing anticipation for the cold.

 I do make pastoral visits to local bars like other young adults, and recently I met a man who works for Comedy Central, and a guy who draws camels that look like dogs.

But I guess exercise classes and children thrill me. And Aqua Zumba, it’s just funny to say.

Amen.

Prayer for Good Humor

Prayer for Good Humor
by St. Thomas More

Grant me, O Lord, good digestion, and also something to digest. 
Grant me a healthy body, and the necessary good humor to maintain it. 
Grant me a simple soul that knows to treasure all that is good 
and that doesn’t frighten easily at the sight of evil, 
but rather finds the means to put things back in their place. 
Give me a soul that knows not boredom, grumblings, sighs and laments, 
nor excess of stress, because of that obstructing thing called “I.” 
Grant me, O Lord, a sense of good humor. 
Allow me the grace to be able to take a joke to discover in life a bit of joy, 
and to be able to share it with others.