Birthday Season Commences!

Dear Catalinni had the wonderful habit of celebrating an entire Birthday Season – making the rounds to varied scattered family members during her birthday month and letting them fete her in grand style.

I just caught myself announcing my birthday, coming up October 28 – I’ll turn 50 at 8:16 p.m., exactly, if you wish to know.

I’ve taken a page out of Catalinni’s book – Let the Celebrations Begin!
Laissez les Bontemps Roulez!

Who can imagine ME –

as a canon lawyer?

I mean, this is not a professional ambition common to little Protestant girls.

“So, tell me, young lady – what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I have always had an intense yearning to study canon law” is not the answer we give.

So – I have a friend from a website, known affectionately as “canon law Mary” because she is named Mary and she is, yes indeedy! a student of the canon law licentiate program at the prestigious St Paul University in Ottawa.

Mary has decided that her first mission in this, her final semester of canon law study, is to persuade me to succeed her as brilliant laywoman scholar at her soon to be alma mater.

Whoa. Wow. Sensory overload, here.

It’ll take at least five years. The licentiate program is a 3-year course of study, but I’ll have to have some courses in theology and philosophy, 2 years’ worth, before I can begin canon law studies. I can obtain those courses through distance learning at several good universities, including Franciscan University of Steubenville, Ohio.

But that will mean graduating at age 55 or thereabouts… which will still allow me to look forward to some twenty years’ service in exchange for my efforts – and, if I’m lucky, the ability to pay off the exorbitant student loans I’ll have to take out to go to Ottawa (which is about half the cost of North America’s only other canon law licentiate program, Catholic University in Washington, DC)

I’m going to look into it. Had a good soul-searching chat with a friend who is a solid academician this morning, and have contacted a priest friend for counsel.

Y’all pray for me. Y’hear?

Cleaning House!

I’ve never been a particularly domesticated woman. From the time I was a little girl, wanting to play house, I’ve been criticized and discouraged and even actively ridiculed – first by my mother, who wasn’t capable of rising above the criticism she’d grown up hearing, then by my ex-husband (gay men are invariably more domesticated than most women, anyway)

Compound this little deficiency in my nature by the fact that I fell and ripped a hamstring a couple months ago – sitting, standing (we dubbed it this week-end, un-sitting), climbing steps… ranging somewhere from very uncomfortable to downright agonizing!

My house was a nightmare –

Enter friends: Stephanie. Mary. Emily.

Stephanie lives in Indiana, we talk on the phone a lot. She sort of jump-started the domestication gene long-dormant in my pathetic psyche. She also sent me the most gorgeous teacup, a graceful elegant thing of such feminine lines and proportions that I can hardly take my eyes off it. The cup was part of her grandmother’s collection.
Mary lives in Texas. She recently sent me a set of dishes – red, Churchill dishes, again far more elegant than anything I’ve ever dreamed of choosing for myself.
Emily lives down the road in Charlotte. She gave me warm hospitality when I sang at the Eucharistic Congress last week, and I was so delighted with her little house, she offered to come help me with mine.

She came on Saturday. She was a busy worker bee, helping shift furniture, vacuuming in the odd corners I currently can’t reach, pulling odd pieces from hiding places and setting them in a place of prominence. She set me to sewing curtains (the machine broke, my curtains are being hand-sewn) and ordered me about with meal-making while she did a regular “House Invaders” job for me.

I LOVE my house now! One more room to finish on my own, and it will become a “formal” dining room –
Photos coming eventually, okay?