Can there ever be too much pie in the world?

I think not, and Mr P would agree with me. Being a farm boy from a German background, he grew up on pie. It was the hearty go-to dessert for threshing crews and Sunday dinner (though farmers call it supper). 

I love pie. I love looking at it and I love eating it, and I love the look on my husband's face when he comes home from work and sees and smells my freshly baked pies. 

As a child, I loved watching my mom, aunts, and older sisters make pie. I dreamed of the day when I would make my own, but my first few attempts were disasterous (by "few" I mean approximately every pie I made during the first 20 years of married life). This profoundly affected my self-esteem and my conception of myself as a wife and homemaker. I was so traumatized by my lack of pie-making skills that I wrote about it in my Catholic Insight column (March 2004). 

Coming out of the closet of Pie Crust Ineptitude turned out to be one of the best things I ever did. For one thing, a lovely lady on the CI staff sent me a new pastry recipe that was truly, indestructibly, NO FAIL. (It was a "pat-in" recipe, and thus not a truly true roll-out pastry recipe, but it was a move in the right direction. It brought pie back into our lives, thus beginning my healing journey toward Pastry Proficiency). 

Now of course, I love making pie. Here are some pics from a recent effort (last September, when I was too busy doing other things to be able to blog).

You must start with a good recipe. I use Tenderflake lard, and only Tenderflake lard. I have not had good results with home-rendered lard from my childhood farm (sorry Ma and Pa), nor with Crisco All Vegetable Shortening.

Apple pie.

 "Bumbleberry" (three or more random fruits,
in this case, apple, blueberry, strawberry and peach)

Admittedly, it's prettier when it's unbaked. 

Darling little cut-outs courtesy of Mrs Beazly, and her #1 son,
 who gave them to me for Christmas one year. 

Something I still have not mastered: how to prevent your pies from boiling over and making a mess in the oven. I still put too much filling in my pies. Oh well, like sanctity, something to keep working on.

Vegetable Oddities

I'm almost tempted to make this a category by itself (and not just because I've asked Mrs. Beazly to write a short story with that title). It's because nature can be so strange, and when you do vegetable gardening (as we have been, for decades), you see lots of funny veggies. 

Though I don't care for kohlrabi very much, Mr P plants it in our garden nearly every year.  "Kohlrabi" apparently comes from the German words for cabbage and turnip. And yep, that's how it tastes. I don't care how anti-carcinogenic it is-- I can only handle so much in a season. 

For those not familiar with this rather homely vegetable, this is what kohlrabi is supposed to look like: 

The green kind

The red kind 

(though for some odd reason, I call it "purple")

To quote one kohlrabi blogger-enthusiast: 

It’s never been a supermarket staple in the U.S., and ten years ago you’d be hard pressed to find it even at a farmers market. But now kohlrabi has exploded from home gardens into markets across the country.

Buddy, you said a mouthful. Below is a specimen Mr P found in our garden this year. Note: it's ONE kohlrabi, not five fused together. 'Exploded' indeed. 

Krafty kids

Miss P #7 loves doing crafts. Here's a Memo Owl she made for me (behind his beak is a clothespin so he can hold notes). So cute. It's hanging by my front door. 

She has also become interested in baking. She had never tasted (or even seen) scones: I haven't made them in forever. "Hot scones" made several appearances at High Tea in a book we've been reading, so she wanted to make some. This was her first effort. Just lovely, and very tasty--the fresh orange rind makes them fabulous. ("Orange Scones" from Company's Coming: Muffins and More. Next time we make these, I'm adding dried cranberries.)

I love this wild tablecloth: 

it reminds me of the vibrant Slovakian textiles in my Grandma's house.

Purchased at Think Kitchen (formerly Stokes)
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I'd better move #5 a little higher

At the beginning of the school year, I'd asked Miss P #7 to list her favourite subjects in order, so that we could devise a schedule that would make getting started each day a little less onerous. (Mybad: "Religion" didn't even make the list. Oh well, I console myself with knowing: Faith isn't a subject in school; it's a Way of Life.)

Walmart promotes responsible parenthood

Not. 

But am I the only one who finds the pocket date planner in the centre funny? 

I can just see the notation for Valentine's Day: "5pm: Pick up candles chocolates, and roses. 7pm: Dinner reservation. 11pm: Try for a boy." 

I love my Breville mixer

It really helped make my Thanksgiving weekend stress-free. This is my beautiful machine, and it was given to me in 2014 for a *cough* milestone birthday by my seven beautiful daughters. 

They ordered it from Amazon.ca (where it appears the price has gone up a bit from last year). 

However, it's still less expensive than this baby--"discounted" price $500 (down from $700!!). Yet the Breville (an Australian make and model, modelled very effectively by this lovely Australian model) has roughly the same amount of power as the (575 watt) KitchenAid Pro 600 model below. I have had a KitchenAid experience (conflated with a Costco experience) which I will tell another day.  

My Breville was the star of Thanksgiving weekend. It mixed up my pie crust, my wheat salad, whipped my cream (for the pie), and most impressively, mixed up my nearly 5-1/2 dozen (tiny) Awesome Potato Rolls (I'm not boasting; that's actually the name of the recipe--see Company's Coming: Breads cookbook). However (now I am boasting), the kids did say that the buns tasted like my Mom's, which is sort of the highest compliment I could ask for. (The secret is the mashed potatoes--makes the buns soooooo soft and tasty.)

Serious bakers, beware! At 550 watts, this machine is "medium duty." It will NOT do large recipes or very heavy doughs, but that's ok, because I have fewer kids at home now, and I no longer do really big batches of anything. If you need more power, get a bigger machine (more than 700 watts; my other mixer, now sold by Blend Tec, is 1000 watts. I've had it since 1999). 

The Breville stand mixer didn't get all the glory, however. Miss P #6 used my new Breville immersion blender (birthday 2015 gift from the girls) to mix up the pie filling, and Mr P used it to mix up the orange juice on Sunday morning (so much quicker than stabbing the frozen blocks of concentrate with a wooden spoon for half an hour).

Fifteen speeds, people. My old immersion blender had one. 

Not pumpkin pie

It's a really long story, but the short version is this: the pumpkin-shaped things we planted (which yielded 22 in total) do NOT taste like pumpkin. So I had to make Thanksgiving pie out of an over-mature zucchini (which had turned orange inside, and actually smelled quite pumpkinish). The result was a rather delicious pie which had a sort-of pumpkin taste, but was more mild --which pleased Miss P #1 (now Mrs. K), who does not like the taste of pumpkin. Thanks to Miss P #6, who mixed up the filling for me, and Misses P #6 and #7, who cut out the cute autumn shapes for the crust). Thanks, Mrs. Beazly, whose vintage Purity Cookbook pie crust recipe continues to be my go-to for easy-to-work-with pastry. And thanks to my neighbour Mrs. B (another Mrs. B) who gave me the zucchini.
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Your morning cup of awesome.

Not your typical Thanksgiving post. I give thanks for so many things, the gift of humour among them. The totally epic Jerry Irby. Thanks to my nephew Daniel, who posted this link to horrid Christian album covers on Facebook.



I especially love the evil laugh--it totally seals the deal. Methinks DOH needs a new category: "Evangelization: I don't think that word means what you think it means."
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Why I refuse to take part in any more online ‘Who Do you Match?’ Quizzes

And not just because it should be “Whom”…

One time I took the “Which Pride and Prejudice Character Are You?” quiz.

I was, even then, too old and wise to expect “Elizabeth.” I was fully prepared for “Mrs. Bennett.” (Stop laughing, daughters.) I was wholly unprepared for (wait for it) LYDIA. At my age? Dear Lord.

The last time I took such a quiz, it was “Which Princess Bride Character are You?

C’mon Inigo, or at least Vizzini… 

(drum roll)

Prince Humperdinck? Really? I’d have preferred the Albino Monk or the old hag in the town square booing the princess.

I will not, I repeat NOT take part in the latest quiz I saw on Facebook: Which Celebrity do you Most Resemble?

Because with my luck…

Your afternoon cup of awesome

So so cute.

Yeah, blogging has been light. It's been a very full and busy and emotional summer. I hope to get caught up sooner or later, or die trying. Meanwhile, give thanks to God for the gift of life and cuteness.



Thanks to Dorothy on Facebook for posting this.
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The Gospel According to...

Lovely vintage wedding photos here.

Ashley Madison: "Life is Short; Have an Affair."

God: "Eternal Damnation is Long: Maybe Don't."

Oh, those poor Ashley Madison customers!! They signed up in good faith, assuming their secrets would be faithfully protected; that the adultery website would be a safe, secure, place. That their secrets would stay that way...forever (or at least till Death did them part!). Their hope and faith in Ashley has been BETRAYED! Those poor... oh wait.

Like that brilliant Matt Walsh guy says, Cheating on Your Spouse is not a Mistake.

"stupid enough to register their names in a database of adulterers compiled by a company whose very business is dishonesty..."

May God have mercy on Western Civ. 
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O my God, this is so beautiful

I am not one to use OMG as an interjection. My subject heading is a prayer, but it is also an invitation to you. My heart is very full. I have lost my sister-in-law Joanne to cancer. Please pray for her husband and sons.

Do yourself a favour and go pray the Office of Readings. The opening hymn alone will lift your soul, but not as much as the sermon below.

The priest in my home town gave two very beautiful homilies, at Joanne's vigil prayers and the next day at her funeral. Of the many wise and inspiring and true things he said, this one has stayed with me the longest: "Joanne enriched our lives."

Riches: how most of us hanker after them. Coincidentally (or not) our family was recently in Banff, the lovely national park in Alberta (pics to follow at some point). We hiked the mountain trails and saw much beauty. We also toured some very ritzy hotels, and I think it left some of our kids feeling kind of wistful, as they saw how the "rich" live. Well, kids, there's more to life than soaking it up in a swimming pool in the mountains and dining at a five-star restaurant and buying souvenirs (original art, gems, so forth) worth $20,000, but it all looks rather dreamy to teenagers who get told every so often in daily life, "We can't afford that."

After Father's comment (actually, during the Communion meditation hymn) at the funeral, I realized: Love is the only wealth. If you do not love, you give nothing. If you are not loved, you have nothing. Love is the only wealth. 

Of course, I have always known this. But sometimes you just need to be hit between the eyes and stabbed through the heart with the profundity of this truth.

The best news is, we are all rich beyond measure, because we are all loved, deeply and passionately, by God.

And then today, I read this sermon on Love in the Office of Readings.

From a sermon by Saint Bernard, abbot

I love because I love, I love that I may love

Love is sufficient of itself, it gives pleasure by itself and because of itself. It is its own merit, its own reward. Love looks for no cause outside itself, no effect beyond itself. Its profit lies in its practice. I love because I love, I love that I may love. Love is a great thing so long as it continually returns to its fountainhead, flows back to its source, always drawing from there the water which constantly replenishes it. Of all the movements, sensations and feelings of the soul, love is the only one in which the creature can respond to the Creator and make some sort of similar return however unequal though it be. For when God loves, all he desires is to be loved in return; the sole purpose of his love is to be loved, in the knowledge that those who love him are made happy by their love of him.

The Bridegroom’s love, or rather the love which is the Bridegroom, asks in return nothing but faithful love. Let the beloved, then, love in return. Should not a bride love, and above all, Love’s bride? Could it be that Love not be loved?

Rightly then does she give up all other feelings and give herself wholly to love alone; in giving love back, all she can do is to respond to love. And when she has poured out her whole being in love, what is that in comparison with the unceasing torrent of that original source? Clearly, lover and Love, soul and Word, bride and Bridegroom, creature and Creator do not flow with the same volume; one might as well equate a thirsty man with the fountain.

What then of the bride’s hope, her aching desire, her passionate love, her confident assurance? Is all this to wilt just because she cannot match stride for stride with her giant, any more than she can vie with honey for sweetness, rival the lamb for gentleness, show herself as white as the lily, burn as bright as the sun, be equal in love with him who is Love? No. It is true that the creature loves less because she is less. But if she loves with her whole being, nothing is lacking where everything is given. To love so ardently then is to share the marriage bond; she cannot love so much and not be totally loved, and it is in the perfect union of two hearts that complete and total marriage consists. Or are we to doubt that the soul is loved by the Word first and with a greater love?

Joanne loved like that. Her face literally glowed with the love of Christ. She enriched our lives. She died a wealthy woman. If I can attain half her holiness and joy, my life will not have been lived in vain. Pray for us, Jo. 

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Every so often, you have to give thanks

...that the Sixties are over. I was watching Sponge Bob Squarepants with my 11-year-old and they used this song on the background track. I'd never heard it before, but of course I immediately recognized the voice, and googled accordingly.

One thing I found remarkable was how natural and incredibly at ease he was throughout the entire performance. Cringeworthy, and it makes you wonder how Simon Cowell would have reacted, had those "Whatzit's Got Talent" or similar shows existed back then. Enjoy. Or not.


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It's almost as if they KNEW

...at the T-shirt factory that the Riders were going to have a 0-6 (wins/losses) start to the season. Keeping calm is just about all we fans have left.

"The one thing we have to do, we have to correct our negatives," said head coach Corey Chamblin. Well, Corey, thank goodness football isn't ruled by the laws of mathematics/integers. You can't actually go below zero.
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I now pretty much officially have plans for September 17

Mrs Beazly, we've gotta book tickets, STAT. 

Alternately, we could try Windsor on the 15th. Saskatoon's own Sheepdogs are opening for them!
(Miss P #3, do you fancy a trip East? Yeah, it would be worth skipping school for a few days...)
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Well at least I'm 2 for 5

I'm gonna let you guess which two.

"She is hospitable, service-oriented, and caring to those around her. At times her anxiety and doubt are hindrances, yet by her faith she witnesses to the glory and peace of our God." 

(from Divine Office.org)

St. Martha, pray for me, and all "Hw".

Yeah, blogging has been light, because the schedule has been heavy. Some things were planned, some not, but the net result is shell-shock that the weeks have been going too quickly. (After nearly 30 years of marriage/motherhood, I'm still under the delusion that just because I'm not "doing school" in July/August, that means endless hours of quiet, stillness, relaxation and leisure, when I'll catch up on all my backlogged projects. I think I'm confusing summer vacation with heaven.)

I will catch up, or die trying (that covers all the bases). I hope you're having a great summer. I am, and one of these weeks, I'll get round to telling you about it. 

Part of the yacht club (yes, really!!) at Lake Diefenbaker, SK

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I defy even Ted Blurn to produce such a musical duo.

Your Morning Cup of Awesome: The Louvin Brothers. I'd give just about anything to hear the Avetts cover some of these fellows' tunes (especially "The Kneeling Drunkard's Plea" or "Wreck on the Highway"). I stumbled across these guys on YouTube (while sampling The Faith Tones). The Louvin Brothers' music is beyond awesome, but their album covers are also epic.

"Evangelization" 

I don't think that word means what you think it means.

Of course I would not leave you hanging without posting a sample of their music. 

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I think I've found Mr. P's Father's Day gift

Sorry, honey, I couldn't resist. You know I love you.

"Help us to begin this day joyfully in your name"

It's a lot easier to do so when you pray regularly. And it's a lot easier to pray regularly when it's all there, just laid out for you. DivineOffice.org.

Lovely Saskatchewan photography found at prairiegirlwonders.com.
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I was on the Albert Einstein Diet but I've switched to a new one.

Is anyone else on this diet? I suspect many of us are. I guess you could also call it the Insanity Diet. This post is pursuant to this one, in which I (happily) announced that I AM NO LONGER OVERWEIGHT. Well, one comment on that post (Mrs. Sockey, I'm looking at you) hit the nail on the head: Christmas is a tough time to 'maintain'. She wasn't whistling Dixie.

My daughter is going that extra mile to help me gain sanctity.

Miss P. #5 (though still in high school) is an aspiring pastry chef, and the other day she made baklava (something that I've never attempted). It's to die for--just as good, if not better--than any I've had in a restaurant (and much better than Costco's). Seriously difficult to pass by every 15 minutes. I've managed to limit myself to one piece per day. (Praise the Lord.)
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Do not fold or bend

Cuz someone might wanna frame* that Royal Conservatory certificate, for which they paid over $100 for the exam, and thousands upon thousands for years and years of piano and vocal lessons.

Thanks, Canada Post! 

*just kidding. The kids never frame their music certificates, be they exam, festival, or scholarship.  [HUMBLEBRAG ALERT] I wouldn't have the wall space.

2015 Music Festival haul.

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Irony

...or not.

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Good-bye, fake Zero; hello actual zero.

Have I ever mentioned how much I like this stuff? Some time back, a friend posted a link on Facebook to an article describing how horrible soda pop is for you. I probably don't have to provide the link (a month of scrolling on FB wouldn't help me find it anyway), since you can google such research for yourself. Old-school pop has like a zillion teaspoons of sugar, and diet pop has artificial sweeteners that probably cause things like depression and brain cancer (and don't even help you lose weight, and I can think of no other reason to drink something that tastes like dishwater).

Let me adjust that column on Victorian novel leading men for you...

An amusing take on who would constitute the ideal mate for modern girls (sexy monster vs wet toff, LOL) --presuming, of course, that modern girls all want the same thing, which we clearly do not. However, the winner (in Ms Freeman's opinion) is Canadian literary hero Gilbert Blythe. Well sure, maybe (as much as I am fond of Canadian men), but *cough* Gilbert is only, like, 12 when the novel begins. Yes, he grows into a man, but I sort of like hunky fictional types who are already men to begin with. But then, I'm not 14 anymore.

And come on, really? She mentions Will Ladislaw (honestly, ladies, how many of you have taken the time to read, or happen to have seen the 1994 film version of Middlemarch), but NOT the widely --and wildly-- adored John Thornton?!

Defies categorization: 

Gaskell calls him a "True Man" 

Further, Ms Freeman says:

It is often noted how little attention is given to female characters in pop culture aimed at men (which is to say, most pop culture). But the same can be said in reverse, including of literature that is largely read by girls and women. Austen never seemed very interested in her male characters beyond what financial security they could provide for her heroines, while the Brontës were incapable of writing male characters who were much more than overheated adolescent fantasies.

Quite possibly she has not read North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. Mr Thornton's character is deep and developed indeed--in fact one of the main themes is that you cannot judge a book by its cover (which the snobbish Margaret initially does, despising Mr Thornton merely for hailing from the wrong part of England, and being a manufacturer). For those who have only seen the BBC miniseries: there is no beating-the-worker scene in the book; the producers evidently thought contemporary viewers wouldn't understand the subtleties of Victorian class distinction, and thus gave us a metaphorical beating as well. It is perhaps the most unforgivable part of the adaptation, in my view. But I digress.

Ms Freeman does raise some interesting points. Had I done my Master's degree, as planned (but I took up full-time, stay-home mothering instead--You're welcome, kids!!) I've always thought it would have made a good thesis to juxtapose the treatment/development of male characters by female authors, and female characters by male authors in Regency/Victorian/19thC. novels. (Thomas Hardy's female characters? Yikes.)

It begs the question of whether or not we are really capable of getting under the skin of the opposite sex and fully and fairly portraying their characters and personalities. Could I, as a woman, ever really "write" a good (realistic) male character? Or is it all either blaming, wishful thinking, or projecting? Food for thought, especially now with the increasing prominence of "gender dysphoria," and the hilariously contradictory claims of some feminists that--on the one hand, biology is completely irrelevant, yet on the other--men and women can never fully comprehend each other, and it constitutes "gender appropriation" to try and 'write' the opposite sex. (At least for men; it's OK for women to do this, because somehow it addresses historical oppression, or something. Plus women are naturally more wise and intuitive, as everyone knows. Which isn't sexist at all.)
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Free advice for Tim Hortons

"Drive Thru" 

for bicycles and horses and buggies only...no, wait. 

Who is advising you guys? An operative from Starbucks? Second Cup? McDonald's? As Napoleon Dynamite would say, "Idiot!" Timmy's, you've already shot yourself in both feet. Don't aim for your knees now. Time to extract the bullets and bind up the wounds, if you want to survive amongst working class Canadians. Do not cave to the enviro-nazis who hate Ethical Oil (Canadian energy) but don't mind doing business with misogynistic OPEC dictators.

However, if you want to be trampled under by Starbucks, go ahead; assisted suicide is now legal in Canada. If you're gonna stiff blue collar Canadians (and your own energy sector--what powers your coffeemakers--wind turbines?) then I can forego your frosty chocolate thingy, no matter how tasty it looks.
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Are you ready for the new religion?

The French Revolution with their goofy re-invented Republican Calendar and attempted abolition of Catholicism had nothing on this. Who needs goddesses of Reason and Liberty when you can have a coy, 65-year-old airbrushed goddess-man wearing a push-up bra? The scary thing is how seriously the talking heads are taking this. (And I guess we MUST take it seriously, because it's the new theocracy.)

Following are comments from the Prophet Brendan O'Neill (he really is). I wonder how long it'll be before they stone him to death for not scraping to the new deity (aka a certain photoshopped Vanity Fair covergrrrrl, and all he/she/it stands for):

It’s iconic in the traditional sense, too, in that it’s being venerated as an actual icon, a devotional image of an apparently holy human. It’s an image we’re all expected to bow down to, whose essential truth we must imbibe; an image you question or ridicule at your peril, with those who refuse to genuflect before it facing excommunication from polite society. Yesterday’s Jennermania confirms how weirdly authoritarian, even idolatrous, trans politics has become.

Thomas L. McDonald at patheos goes one further:

I have a more serious reason for resisting it. Normalization of transsexualism is not just the trailing edge of the gay rights movement: it’s the leading edge of the transhumanism movement. It’s a deeply gnostic sense of the body that is at cross-purposes with a healthy understanding of the individual. It’s also driven by the idea that we can redefine fundamental issues of humanity by mere acts of will. It is the Nietzschean will to power applied, forcefully, to the body and sexuality itself.It’s bad enough when this will to power warps instruments of civilization such as the family and marriage, but in transhumanism it seeks to bend the meaning of our embodied being. Nothing good can come of this.

He points out that science is no longer based on truth (biology, emperical evidence, and so forth) but is "merely a matter of assuaging hurt feelings." It stands to reason that politics, religion, education, economics, and the rule of law must therefore follow.
Well, if you can't beat em, join em. To hell with 2015! Let this be Year 1, BC, of our Brave New World (the BC, of course, stands for "Bruce-Caitlyn".) And let's rename North America too, while we're at it. Maybe we can call it Trans-ill-vain-ia or something.

Oh, and in future, being cast out of polite society will surely be the least of our worries. Reign of terror? You ain't seen nothin yet. There are guys roaming the planet who don't give a tinker's dam about hurt feelings (except their own). There won't be any Bruce-Caitlyn debate with these monsters.

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"Full and clear ring out thy chanting"

Lex orandi, lex credendi (as we pray, so we believe). When our language --and poetry and song--are  dumbed down, so is our faith. (Thanks, Carey Haugenhaaschutte.) I came upon the following hymn by way of Morning Prayer (Divine Office.org). I like listening to/praying with the podcast sometimes, and thus have I discovered no end of sublimely beautiful hymns (which, I shamefully admit, I sometimes skip when reading the Office). This hymn is by St. Thomas Aquinas, and I invite you to take the time not only to read it, but meditate upon it. Not only is it exquisite poetry, but it is also a profound catechesis on the Eucharist. (You know, just like Thank You, God, For Giving Us Us--not.) The podcast's sung version, by the Choir of Christ's College, is done in chant and well worth a listen.  It's not a tune you'd whistle around the campfire; it's meant to usher your soul into the presence of the Almighty. Mission accomplished, and that's not bad for a Tuesday morning. Enjoy.


Laud, O Sion thy salvation

Laud, O Sion thy salvation, laud with hymns of exultation, Christ thy king and shepherd true. 
Spend thyself, his honour raising, who surpasseth all thy praising; never canst thou reach his due.

Sing to-day, the mystery showing of the living, life-bestowing Bread from heaven before thee set
Even the same of old provided, where the Twelve, divinely guided, at the holy table met.

Full and clear ring out thy chanting, joy not sweetest grace be wanting to thy heart and soul to-day.
When we gather up the measure of that supper and its treasure, keeping feast in glad array.

Lo, the new king’s table gracing, this new Passover of blessing hath fulfilled the elder rite. 
Now the new the old effaceth, truth revealed the shadow chaseth, day is breaking on the night.

What he did at Supper seated, Christ ordained to be repeated, his memorial ne’er to cease. 
And, his word for guidance taking, bread and wine we hallow, making thus our Sacrifice of peace.

This the truth to Christians given; bread becomes his flesh from heaven, wine becomes his holy Blood. Doth it pass thy comprehending? Yet by faith, thy sight transcending, wondrous things are understood.

Yea, beneath these signs are hidden glorious things to sight forbidden; look not on the outward sign.
Wine is food and bread is broken; but in either sacred token Christ is here by power divine.

Whoso of this food partaketh, Christ divideth not nor breaketh; He is whole to all that taste. 
Wherefore upon this day receiveth, for the thousands will believeth, one’s real food that cannot waste.

Good and evil men are sharing one repast, a death preparing varied as the heart of men; 
Yet fore death shall be awarded, as their days shall be recorded which from their beginning ran.

When the sacrament is broken, doubt not in each severed token, hallowed by the word once spoken, resteth all the true content; 
Nought the precious gift divideth, breaking but the sign betideth, he himself the same abideth, nothing of his fullness spent.

Lo! the Angels’ food is given to the pilgrim who hath striven; see the children’s bread from heaven, which to dogs may not be cast; 
Truth the ancient types fulfilling, Isaac bound, a victim willing, paschal lamb, its life-blood spilling, manna sent in ages past.

O to Bread, good Shepherd, tend us, Jesu, of thy love befriend us, thou refresh us, thou defend us, thine eternal goodness send us in the land of life to see;
Thou who all things canst and knowest, who on earth such food bestowest, grant us with thy Saints, though lowest, where the heavenly feast thou showest, fellow-heirs and guests to be. 

Amen. Alleluia.

Trinity Sunday

I have such good childhood memories of the parish in our small home town. I can still remember how packed the church was, pretty much EVERY Sunday. And I remember all the men coming in suits and ties, and parking their Frank Sinatra hats at the back, and the entire congregation singing hymns--yes, real hymns. (I especially remember my dad's booming joyful voice singing these hymns.)

But of course it wasn't about us. In those days we still thought church had something to do with worshipping God. It's a great comfort to hear these hymns after all these years of "Peace is Flowing Like a River," and "Thank You, God, For Giving Us Us," and "Break Not the Circle of Enabling Love" (honest, I didn't make that last one up; it's real).

"O God Almighty Father" (sung by regular folk, but lovely):



And... "Holy! Holy! Holy!" (King's College Choir):

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This makes me want to start collecting stamps.

The U.S. Postal Service is issuing a stamp in honour (or perhaps I'd better say "honor") of Flannery O'Connor. Good on ya, USA! Just lovely.

Very much thanks to Mrs. S. for alerting me to this on Facebook.

Mrs. Beazly, it looks like you'll have to return that extra-large bathtub you ordered.

Cuz your provincial government just outlawed the hobby you were hoping would make you some spare cash. Jeez. They needed a province-wide law for this? What would we DO without gubmint to protect us?!
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This doesn't bode well for my golden years

Or... I could just ignore it, as I do most food/medical "research".

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This is never more true than during music festival week

But it's true most of the time.

Unfortunately, this is also true of me (so I'm not sure why it annoys me so much that some of my kids organize themselves thus as well): 

More silliness at Ephemera.
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So sad: good-bye, Gilbert Blythe

Jonathan Crombie has died.  Thank you for sharing your art with the world. May God rest your soul.

Do you laugh or cry?

I guess you should laugh. I like this webpage, a service of the University of Regina. It's got lots of good info and interesting facts about my beautiful province, Saskatchewan. But the poster boy for "Arts and Culture?" Oy vay. (We DO have symphonies, ballets, operas and Broadway plays here too.) I love "Corner Gas," by the way. It's funny because it's frighteningly true to life. (Think Napoleon Dynamite, but further north.) Truth is far stranger than fiction. The stuff that takes place in my own small town is so funny/crazy/scary, it actually makes Corner Gas look like the Parliament Channel by comparison.

Corner Gas: buy the Complete Series here. 
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