St. Catherine of Sienna

Sometimes I look around me, and realize that I have a pretty cool life.  Friday night was one of them.  I was sitting in the passenger seat of Pippi’s Jeep, exchanging flirty texts with a total stranger whom I devoutly hope I will never meet (one of the odd side effects of the even odder weekend I had last weekend), driving through one of the tiny, intensely Catholic farming towns you find about an hour north of here, scanning the countryside behind the houses for signs of a bonfire to attend.  And I thought to myself, you know, I could not make this stuff up if I tried.  And I am a lucky girl.

The deal is that Crafty Chick (one of the few people I know who has a crafting room almost as messy as my own), had invited us up there for a Holy Hour followed by a bonfire at her new house, and while Pippi and I left town far too late to make the praying part of the evening, we were determined to at least be social.  The problem was that although we knew where Crafty Chick used to live, neither one of us had ever been to her new place, the only address on the invitation was for the church where the Holy Hour was, and we had no idea where we were going.  None of the people we knew were already there were answering their phones, so we started just driving around town looking for bonfires.  The town was small enough that we thought we had at least a 50/50 chance of finding it.  We did find one bonfire, but we didn’t recognize any of the cars parked there, and Pippi wouldn’t let me get out of the car to check (horror movies never start that way, no…).  I suggested just looking for the fire house, since the guys there would probably know about all the bonfires in town.  Ironically, soon after that we happened to drive past the fire house, and right next door found a bonfire with cars we recognized.  Even then Pippi wouldn’t let me get out of the car until she recognized one of the people standing around it as Flo’s brother.

The bonfire itself was fun – PM decided that he needed to show me what he remembers of his ballroom classes, so I got to dance a little.  One of my friends made me text The Duchess to suggest Moneypenny as a name for her unborn child, should she turn out to be a girl.  I got to see Crafty Chick’s craft room, and her awesome 1940s turquoise tiled bathroom (she doesn’t like it, and I’m totally jealous).  And then I was back in Pippi’s Jeep, heading out again across farm country, this time heading for Flo’s house.  It was time for a sleep over.

You see, back in February I promised Flo that while she was recovering from reconstructive ankle surgery I would come to her house and show her Star Wars.  She had confessed that she had never seen any of the Star Wars movies, not even the awful ones released in the 90s, a state of things I found tragic and wrong.  Surprisingly, Flo turned out not to be as enthusiastic about the prospect of watching science fiction classics as I was, so it took a while for this to finally happen.

Sleep overs are an odd concept for me.  Johnsy used to be a big fan of wanting to get a bunch of friends over to stay the night, but I always resisted.  I know there’s the traditional girl-bonding activities of watching soppy movies, painting toenails, eating unhealthy food and oversharing.  But the whole concept is still somewhat fraught for me with too many memories of childhood sleepovers full of pre-teen angst and the certainty that I could not escape betraying in some humiliating way my total social awkwardness.  Now that I’m a grown woman, I like sleeping in my own bed.  Staying over at another person’s house for no particular reason never seemed like, I dunno, fun.

All that being said, I think this may be one of the first sleep overs I have ever really, truly enjoyed.  There have been some that were fairly pleasant, but this one was just fun.  Flo has two very comfortable guest beds, so there was no need for sleeping bags or getting stiff sleeping on the floor.  We all fell asleep pretty soon after we got there, and slept like logs.  When we woke up we sort of lounged around and talked for a while.  There was a very lazy attempt at a pillow fight that didn’t go very far.  The words “french toast” began to be mentioned with greater and greater frequency, and after a while we gathered up the momentum to actually go into the kitchen and make some.  We had that for breakfast, with fresh pineapple and strawberries and Greek yogurt.

After breakfast we put the first Star Wars (Episode IV, if you acknowledge the existence of those other films released in the 90s, which I don’t).  Flo and Pippi both had never seen it before, and were not really sure they were going to like it.  I did my best not to say all the best lines along with the actors (not sure how well I succeeded).  Afterwards, I was ready to grab my stuff and go – Pippi had a thing she was supposed to be back in Dayton for, so I thought we had to leave.  But to my surprise, suddenly Flo was talking about the pizzas she had in the freezer, and saying that, since we had all of the movies here, we might as well put in the next one, and Pippi’s thing she had to be back for turned out to be not so pressing after all, and to make a long story short, we watched all of them.  All three movies.  A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi, back to back.  We did nothing all day but watch movies, getting up only for food or drink or to go to the bathroom.  It was fairly epic.

It was funny watching the movies again.  I hadn’t seen them in a long time, though they were so much a part of my childhood they’re sortof just part of my subconscious.  It was odd watching what I remembered as intensely romantic sexual tension between Han and Leia, and thinking “Man, Han sure is a jerk.”  I also hadn’t remembered how much C3PO whined.  All the time.  On the plus side, I hadn’t completely remembered how utterly adorable R2D2 is, or how much I really, truly love these movies with all my heart.

After we had finished all three movies, Flo wanted to show us a Darth Vader cameo in Night at the Museum 2, and then we were watching the outtakes, and then Pippi saw Hank Azaria’s Arms of Total Manly Hotness, and somehow before I knew it we were watching another movie.  And it was awesome.  My favorite part?  ”How about you shove your hands in your pockets, take your attitude way down, and also, be nice to people.”  (Not that there’s anyone in particular I’m dying to say that to.  Or anything.)  And I have to admit, Hank Azaria’s arms really are something.  It doesn’t hurt that the brain animating those arms belongs to a hilariously funny man.  If my heart weren’t already given to Ryan Gosling, I’d be tempted to switch my allegiance (Pippi: “No!  He’s mine!”)

Speaking of which, Ryan Gosling is now also apparently Catholic:

Perfect. Man.

The Holy Name of Jesus

On New Year’s Day, I was thinking how different this year has been from pretty much every other New Year’s Day going back just about as far as I can remember.  Usually, New Year’s Day means the Huge Family Party, in which we pull out all the stops to entertain about forty of our nearest and dearest.  This means that we would have pulled ourselves out of bed early after days of cooking and cleaning (plus one night of revelry), ready to face a tight schedule of more cooking, cleaning, arranging, and then entertaining.  It would be a great party, a great way to start the new year, and definitely worth it.  However, it would also be a lot of stress and everyone would fall into bed at the end of the night totally exhausted.

This New Year’s, I got up in plenty of time to make it to Mass at my home parish, ate breakfast at home, and then headed over to the Family Homestead in time to see Indy and Rosie off to the Bengal’s game.  After a little while of hanging out, the rest of us headed off together to watch Tin Tin, which was awesome.  When we came out, we decided to see how many of us we could squeeze into the instant photo booth.  The answer was five (see evidence above).  The Duchess, Sae, and I were on the bottom, and AnniPotts and Fleur were on top.  I’m particularly proud of the picture on the bottom, where I managed to get at least half of my face into the frame.

After the movie, we headed home and cooked a quick dinner of pork chops, sweet potato fries, green beans and salad, and ate together around the big table.  Then there was dishes, and then I headed home again.  It was a little surreal to be heading away from my parents’ house on New Years Day, so early and so rested, but it was nice.

The night before was very nice too.  Mariah had her annual New Year’s Eve Party, complete with breaking a pinata in the front yard.  The pinata this year was the most adorable dinosaur, with big brown eyes, and a long neck that made him look disconcertingly like a llama.  And how can you hit a llama?  It’s just not possible.  It was a good thing it was dark, and we were blindfolded, otherwise we might have been totally defeated by The Cute.  Still, somehow we were able to overcome.  :D

After the pinata was properly subdued, we all headed back inside for more fun until we crowded up stairs (that’s where the tv is) to watch the ball drop in Times Square and toast the New Year.  Then, of course, there were noisemakers and poppers on the front porch.  But there was more.  I had gone into the house, and was tidying up the upstairs room when PM came to get me.  While he was gone in the wilds of Indiana the past year, he was apparently so lonely that he resorted to ballroom lessons.  I had told him that I wanted to learn Hustle (which is his favorite), and he had decided that I was going to have a lesson right then.  I’m always up for dancing, so I followed him downstairs to Mariah’s dining room, where I got my first Hustle lesson.  And then, since turn-about is fair play, I taught him some East Coast swing.  And then all the girls who had been watching wanted to learn swing too.  So I ended up starting off my New Year by beginning to learn a new dance, and then giving swing dancing lessons in my sister’s dining room.  Not a bad start, that.

Now I am in the midst of my last week at Job1 and Job2.  Tomorrow is my last day at Job2, and I’ve gathered that there is going to be some sort of good-bye luncheon.  No one has actually told me this, but they keep accidentally copying me on the e-mails.  Then I’ll take down the things on my bulletin board, return the cup I borrowed from one of them when mine disappeared, make a few last contract files, and say good-bye.

I really hate good-byes.

Sigh.

St. John – the 2nd day of Christmas

First, I feel the need to make it clear that today is the second day of Christmas, not the third.  You don’t start counting the 12 days of Christmas on the 25th, but on the 26th.  This is why January 6th, also known as Epiphany, is the 12th Day of Christmas, also called Twelfth Night (see also: Shakespeare’s play).  If you doubt me (why would you do that?), get out a calendar and see for yourself.  See?  I’m right.

Anyway, now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, why, yes, we’ve been having a very nice Christmas.  :)  It’s been an odd Christmas.  Quieter.  Different.  We’ve got kids in the family again, particularly a treasured step-niece who has four families to divide her Christmas between, so we went to the afternoon Christmas Eve Mass instead of Midnight Mass.  This small change meant juggling around our whole schedule for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  For the first time ever in my life we opened our Christmas stockings on Christmas Eve instead of waiting for Christmas morning.  Christmas Day became an odd, formless day of hanging out with the family in between meals.   The most excitement we had was when Boy-O and AP ganged up on me Christmas morning, turning what had been a comfortable coze on the couch into me being tickled mercilessly, while wheezing helplessly with laughter and making a token attempt to defend myself by sortof flailing one arm around in the air.

A lot of us have been moving a little slower this Christmas.  Rosie fell down the steps at Aunt B’s house the day before Christmas Eve, scraped up her arm pretty badly, and twisted her knee horribly.  She had been over there helping paint Aunt B’s living room, her Christmas present to Aunt B and Uncle J.  So she spent her holiday walking with a cane, and icing her knee every twenty minutes.  Yesterday she was able to bend at least mostly comfortably for the first time in days, which was great.  Between her knee and her still-recovering back, she’s been giving the ice packs a work out this December!  I fell also, on the same day.  I caught my foot somehow when I was at the top of the steps on Mom & Dad’s front hill.  I couldn’t catch my balance again, and when I realized that I was about to take a swan dive down the steps, I managed to tip myself sideways into the ivy-covered slope of the hill.  This would have broken my fall almost entirely, if it weren’t for the small terraces Mom’s made in the hill, edged with river stones standing on edge.  Still, I got off pretty easily, with a bruise on my hip and missing some skin on one forearm.  It’s funny – when I get injured, after the being shook up part passes, I feel like a little kid showing off their latest scab or scar or whatever.  I take it around to everybody and make them admire it.  Of course, then I get things like my Dad kissing it to make it better, so maybe there’s a method to my madness.

I had grand intentions of Getting Things Done on the day after Christmas (aka The 1st Day of Christmas).  I was going to maybe finish knitting Mr. T’s socks, and at least get started on sewing myself that gray wool skirt I’ve been daydreaming about, and do some housecleaning, and maybe even a load or two of laundry.  Needless to say, none of that happened.  Well, I did clean the house some, but unfortunately just to that point where the uncleaned parts of the house look even worse, before anything looks any better.  And then somehow it was 6:30, and I needed to get cleaned up before I headed out to Mick’s birthday celebration.

Today has been one of those days at work where time just disappears, like it’s been one long, gray movie montage, and suddenly it’s five o’clock and time to go home and you think, “How did I get here?”  Because of all the holidays and things, I only have one more day here at Job2, and one more at Job1.  Today I got accidentally copied on the e-mail announcing my going away luncheons, and the collection for my good-bye gift.  I’m very excited about my new job, but still, this is hard.  I’ve been very fortunate in my co-workers every place I’ve worked.  I’d like to say that I’ll keep in touch with them, but the truth is that I’m really horrible at keeping in touch with people.  I have the best of intentions, but I never remember to call.  I write letters and then don’t send them.  I still care, I’m just awful at showing it.  So this really is good-bye.  I hate saying good-bye.

Still, it’s Christmas, and a good Christmas, a better Christmas than I’ve had in years!  Tonight is my parents wedding Anniversary (over 40 years – woot!).  All of us are going to gather at the Family Homestead, and make hors d’oeuvre-like things, and hang out.  Maybe we’ll watch a movie.  Mr. T and Sae will hopefully make an appearance, though I heard this afternoon that The Duchess and 007 won’t make it to Dayton in time.  But still, we will be together, and it will be good.  And then tomorrow there will be presents.  :D

St. John the Wonder Worker

My dears, I have a dilemma.  You see, I had hoped to start this blog post with the splendiferously good news that last Friday the nice ladies at Job 3 (the one at the small regional hospital) offered me a full time position as the HR Support Partner at the brand new hospital that’s being built as I type, starting either the second week of January (if the head of the HR department gets her way) or the beginning of February (if the financial guy she has to clear things through gets his).  All weekend I’ve been excited about this.  It’s great work, which I enjoy, the benefits and pay are the same as what I’m getting now, I like everyone I’d be working with, and I’ve been really impressed with the medical network that both hospitals are a part of.  Plus, since I’d be helping set up a brand new office, and I’d be the only admin, I’d have the chance for once to set things up the way I like them.  Being the one secretary supporting an office is very different from being the undersecretary answering to multiple other secretaries, all of whom have their own ideas about How Things Should Be.  Plus there’s the whole only having one work to go to instead of three thing.  I was pretty excited.

Then this morning, I went in to tell my boss at Job 2 about my job offer.  This is the job with the extra hours and the pretty building, where they’ve been telling me that they can’t tell me anything definite about whether or not I have a future with them until sometime towards the end of January.  I was fully expecting to tell my boss about the job offer, to have her tell me that they would be very sorry to lose me, but that she still wasn’t able to offer me anything definite, for me to get the ok to keep working up until I switched to my new job, and that would be it.  Instead, she asked me how firm my commitment to the new job was, and then told me that she was in the process of getting my current job posted as a full time position, so that I could apply for it, and be hired into their department full time.  However, she hadn’t gotten far in that process yet, both because she is very, very busy right now, and because it’s difficult to get our HR to do anything in December.  So she asked me if I would consider perhaps staying on here, and working with them full time instead.

And now I’m torn.  Both jobs have great co-workers, similar pay, similar benefits.  Both have opportunities for upward advancement once I’ve settled into the job.  I like the work at the hospital better, and I’d be able to have a little more autonomy there.  But the university has a more laid back attitude towards a lot of things (both good and bad), plus when I finally get to the place where I can go back to school, I’d be able to get tuition reimbursement pretty easily.  The hospital offers tuition reimbursement as well, but they only have a limited amount to spend on it each year, so they prioritize the jobs that benefit the hospital.  So if I were going for a nursing degree, I might have a pretty good shot at it, but a theology degree?  Not so much.  But going back to school is a long way off in any case.  Wouldn’t I rather enjoy my work in the meantime?

Also, how ironic is it that, after all the time when I couldn’t even get an interview, suddenly I’ve got two companies pulling out all the stops to try to hire me full time?

I think in the end I’m going to probably stick with the hospital.  I was totally happy with the hospital job before this other possibility was raised.  I still really want to do it.  It would be nice to have a fresh start.  But now, no matter what I decide, I have to say no to people I really like, who have gone out of their way to be good to me.  And I don’t like that at all.

So what I’m asking for from you guys is feedback.  Do you have any advice, encouragement, or good counsel to pass on?  Whether you do or not, could you also please pray for me, that I can make the right decision, and that I can feel peaceful about whatever decision I make.  Sigh.  I would love to have a little peace about this right now.

In other news, we are starting to be recovered from the latest wedding.  Our dining room is now clear of floral products, and back to being used as an actual dining room.  The Duchess and 007 are back from their honeymoon, and plunging right back into their busy lives.  Instead of sewing things, I’m back to knitting away on baby things.  I’m trying to finish a tiny sweater to send off to Big Brother and Sunny in their Christmas box.  So far I just have one sleeve to go, so I might even make it!  We’ll see.

Also, on Saturday we had Swing In The Snow, our big swing dance.  It was a roaring success, with a packed dance floor, and lots of fun people to dance with.  I was delighted when a bunch of my friends from my Catholic young adult group showed up too.  It made everything extra fun!  Now some of them are talking about maybe having a swing dance lesson for one of our meetings.  Who knows?  Maybe I won’t be the only Catholic at swing dancing anymore!

St. Edmund Campion

One of the delightful things about The Duchess & 007′s wedding was their first dance.  They’re both so silly, and they decided to share that silliness in a wonderful way.  Uncle C called them both “a couple of ham bones,” and they really are!  The result was awesome, and thanks to Crafty Minx being in the right position to capture it, I can share it with you:

If that doesn’t make you smile, I don’t know what would!

ETA: Indy has the first of the pictures from the wedding up on her blog.  Go see them – they’re lovely!