The Garden Song

(Sung, first two stanzas as refrain, and each two after as one verse. Or at least, that's how the Clancy Brothers sing it =))
Inch by inch, row by row
Gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground.

Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless these seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
Till the rain comes tumblin' down

Pullin' weeds and pickin' stones
Man is made of dreams and bones
Feel the need to grow my own
Cause the time is close at hand

Rain for grain, sun and rain
Find my way in natures chain
Tune my body and my brain
To the music from the land

Plant your rows straight and long
Temper them with prayer and song
Mother Earth will make you strong
If you give her love and care

Old crow watchin' hungrily
From his perch in yonder tree
In my garden I'm as free
As that feathered thief up there

No, Daniel. The word is "after," not "dfter."

Homeschooling is a wonderful way to involve the whole family in a real goal: learning. Is it possible to have a bunch of kids, different grades and ages, at actually learn anything? Actually, yes, and in my experience, we seem to have learned alot more than our public and private school counterparts. I remember that learning was actually fun (minus the book reports), and watching others learn is usually hysterical =). Since I'm at school, I miss out on alot of the fun now. Deborah relayed this incident to me a short while back.

"Rachel and I were studying in the living room and Daniel was in the opposite room studying his spelling. He copied all his words on his own, so, naturally, he couldn't read them. We were interupted every minute because he needed us to read him his words. I had just helped him with 'land' and his next word was really hard-'after'. I expected him to come back for help but instead he decided to tackle it on his own. I heard him loudly declare 'DFTER' d-f-t-e-r- Dfter'. Rachel and I looked at each other, we hadn't heard what we thought we had, had we? Then this little voice calls out 'Deborah, what does d-f-t-e-r spell? I tried to tell him it was a-f-t-e-r but nnnoooo...he wrote dfter, it must be dfter and he wanted a definition. It took me 5 minutes to convince him that he had written it wrong. He smiled at me and said, OK deborah. He disappeared into the dining room and 2 seconds later his voice called in 'what was that word again'."

Oh the joy of learning.

Homesteading in the city?

Yeah. Apparently, it can be done. It might take some imagination, but where there is a will, there is definitely a way =). Found an excellent article about homesteading. Actually, the whole site is great, but in case you just have time for the article, and you are living in the city and longing for the country (like me), here's the link.

How to Progress towards the Homesteading Lifestyle while Living in the City
By Meg Lund
http://home-n-stead.com/homestead/homesteadingarticles/homesteading_in_city.html

The website is on my list at the right.

Sometimes I wish God would just come and smack me upside the head and say, "No, you idiot, this way!" I'm tempted to think that life would be so much easier that way. If I'm walking over the brink, off the beaten path, and wallowing once again in putrecence and slime, I almost wish that I wasn't capable of such devious and dangerous deeds. That He would prevent me from getting my feet even a little wet, but that's sort of a difficult thing, to make such accusations. I've so many scars, so many wounds, not from battle, for those I would wear with pride and joy for my Lord's glory and honor, but from shortcomings, stupidity, falsity, laziness, all of my own accord. An accord with evil.

I am the only one who can save my soul (in a manner of writing), I know that. Wouldn't it have been easier to be saved by God immediately, with his intervention every time I approached the brink of deceit? Sure. It would have been easy. Too easy. So easy there would have been no merrit in it at all. If I were not responsible for my own deeds and missteps, I would not have really existed as something desirable in His eyes.

And if I were that way, it wouldn't even come into my head that I was desirable or repugnant to him. I wouldn't even be enough of an individual to have a notion of emotions or feelings, let alone the thoughts and feelings of others. I would not be able to love, if I did not have free will. Could I be loved? Yes, but only as much as one could love an animal, perhaps even less, because I would be totally without empathy. Worse off than a dog.

The quality of choice, of the ability to choose, of the will to prefer one thing to another: I tend not to look at it as a gift. I allow myself (therefore choose) to let lonliness, fatigue, sodness, and anger take over my thoughts. It is truly a merciful and loving God that gives me choices, the ability to choose wrongly and to frustrate his plan. And yet He always welcomes a change toward him. He does not demand me, but asks for me, myself, my whole me-ness. Makes me want to cry, cause I know I'll forget it soon enough, or not care, and choose wrongly. It is a painstaking and rigerous process, isn't it Lord? Back and forth, back and forth, to and fro...like a ship on the waves....or more appropriately like a ping-pong ball in action. Why does He let me continue to muddle about?

If a lover truly loved his beloved, would he want to control her every thought and deed towards him? Make her kiss him and carress him because he wants her to, not because she wants to do so? I think not. What kind of satisfaction is there in that? The beloved is not showing him her love. as a matter of fact, she is not showing him anything. It is only satisfactory for one's beloved to love of her own accord, to love because she wills it. If she chooses not to love, even that is better than forcing her to do so. If she loves against her will, hating every minute of it, every touch, than that is hell. True lovers choose their love and desire communion with the beloved on every level, a totality.

"I am my beloved's and he is mine. His banner over me is love."
"O come my beloved, come. O Heart of my Heart, my own. Come my beloved, come I am weary, waiting for thee alone."

All for me Grog

And it's all for me grog, me noggin, noggin grog.
All for me beer and tobacco.
For I spent all me tin with the lassies drinkin' gin.
Far across the western ocean I must wander.

Where are me boots, me noggin', noggin' boots,
They're all gone for beer and tobacco,
For the heels they are worn out and the toes are kicked about,
And the soles are looking out for better weather.

Where is me shirt, my noggin', noggin' shirt,
It's all gone for beer and tobacco,
For the collar is all worn, and the sleeves they are all torn,
And the tail is looking out for better weather.

I'm sick in the head and I haven't been to bed,
Since first I came ashore with me slumber,
I've seen centipedes and snakes, and I'm full of pains and aches,
And I think I'll make a path for way up yonder.

The Village Blacksmith

(Courtesy of The Poet's Corner)
Father Terry recited this at mass on labor day, and I fell in love with it again.

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,---rejoicing,---sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Catholic Pick-up Lines

I take the credit for none of these (the first seven are Patrick Madrid's), but thought they were funny. However, my advice to the general Catholic male population out there would be to come up with something a bit better (you know, less trite and silly) if you're not absolutely sure that she's already in love with you. If she is in love with you, it won't really matter what the heck you say. She'll think your brilliant. Nevertheless, be careful all the same, espcially with the arogant ones. I would quite honestly go crazy if a man ever said these things to me before I new him much.

1. Did you feel what I felt when we reached into the holy water font at the same time? (Quiet Man anyone?)

2. You've got stunning scapular-brown eyes.

3. I bet I can guess your confirmation name.

4. You don't like the culture of death either? Wow! We have so much in common!

5. What's a nice girl like you doing at a First Saturday Rosary Cenacle like this?

6. Sorry, but I couldn't help but noticing how cute you look in that ankle-length, shapeless, plaid jumper. (one of my favorites)

7. May I offer you a light for that votive candle? (very cute)

8. The Bible says "Give drink to those who are thirsty, and feed the hungry"; how about dinner?

9. You look so beautiful in that mantilla you wear to Mass. (another favorite)

10. Want to go to Adoration with me? (ultimate question)

11. I didn't believe in predestination till I met you. (cute)

12. Man does not live by bread alone. So how about dinner and a movie?

13. What do you think Paul meant when he said, "Greet everyone with a holy kiss" (1Pet 5:24)? (sly)

14. A little bird... the Holy Spirit actually... tells me we should get to know each other a little better. (he had better not be lying)

15. Don't worry, I'm attracted to you purely in a spiritual way.

16. Has anyone ever told you, your eyes are like doves and your neck like the tower of David? (no! Thank goodness)

17. You look like a good vocation

18. Hey ... I don't want to embarass you but your Scapular strap is showing. So ... how long have you been wearing that? We should discuss the Sabatine promises over a 40 hours devotion sometime.

19. “A girl like you only comes along once in a Blue Army meeting.”

20. Presenting a rose: “I just may be the answer to your Little Flower novena.” (he's awefully arogant)

21. “Me, I prefer a more traditional Mass. I’m a regular Latin lover.” (sarcastic "haha")

22. “You look like (an officially approved) apparition!” bold

23. “You’re a saint! Kiss me, and make me a second-class relic!” (from Walker Solis)(whoever that is)

24. "My Guardian Angel thinks you are cute."

25. If I had a bead for every time I though of you, I'd have a joyful mystery. (ingenious)

26. You are like the book of Revelation. You've got me all confused.

27. The body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. May I move my temple closer to yours?

The blushing girl tulip.

Excuses Excuses or Play on Words

Coming home, I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don’t have.

The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intentions.

I thought my window was down, but found it was up when I put my hand through it.

A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.

(my favorite)
The guy was all over the road! I had to swerve several times before I hit him.

(my sister's favorite)
I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law, and drove over the embankment.

In my attempt to kill a fly I drove into a telephone pole.

Italian Logic and Reason

(From my Dad)

An Italian walked into a bank in New York City and asked for the loan officer. He told the loan officer that he was going to Italy on business for two weeks and needed to borrow $5,000 and that he was not a depositor of the bank.

The bank officer told him that the bank would need some form of security for the loan, so the Italian handed over the keys to a new Ferrari. The car was parked on the street in front of the bank. The Italian produced the title and everything checked out. The loan officer agreed to hold the car as collateral for the loan and apologized for having to charge 12% interest. Later, the bank’s president and its officers all enjoyed a good laugh at the Italian for using a $250,000 Ferrari as collateral for a $5,000 loan. An employee of the bank then drove the Ferrari into the banks underground garage and parked it.

Two weeks later, the Italian returned, repaid the $5,000 dollars and the interest of $23.07. The loan officer said, “Sir, we are very happy to have had your business, and this transaction has worked out very nicely, but we are a little puzzled. While you were away, we checked you out and found that you are a multimillionaire. What puzzles us is why you would bother to borrow $5,000?”

The Italian replied: “Minga, where else in New York City can I park my car for two weeks for only $23.07 and expect it to be there when I return?”

Ah the Italians…Bada Bing Bada Boom!