...to atone for my numberless sins...

...offenses, and negligences; on behalf of all here present and likewise for all faithful Christians, living and dead, that it may profit me and them as a means of salvation unto life everlasting. Amen."

I read the words from the Offertory so many times during Mass when I was growing up that even now they fall onto the (virtual) page with little effort. Reading Ian McEwan's nove Atonement, the Offertory came back to me again and again. As a child, it seems I was guilty of "numberless" sins. Oh great! Not only was I on the road straight to Hell, I was paving it. Confession was the only way to cleanse my soul of the gray marks of venial sin and the blackness of (shudder) mortal sin. Back then I pictured my soul looking like a boxer's punching bag, floating with little wings to keep it steady. I suppose it may have been made of muslin; I could never see it in my mind's eye as pure white and shimmery like satin.

In the novel, Briony's attempt at atonement consumes her entire adult life, even though she wasn't a Catholic. Upon her death, I wonder whether her soul took a dive into the depths of Hell, or if it soared gloriously to the side of her Maker? When I confessed my numberless sins of childhood to a priest in the confessional, I sometimes added on to the count, although I doubt I actually kept track anyway: "Father, I lied six times. I was mean to my brother four times." Then the perfunctory, "For these and the sins I have forgotten, I am truly sorry." I suspect the innocent lies I told the priest about the number of venial sins I committed won't keep me out of Heaven, or wherever my punching bag soul is destined. Briony, on the other hand, ruined lives with her lie, while ultimately profiting from that same lie. I'm not so sure she's atoned for her sin. Suffered? yes. Atoned? maybe not.

The story is set during World War II, and if you don't already know it, war IS hell.

News of the weird

Assuming you've been reading the newspaper lately, this picture speaks for itself. If not, sit down and get wind of this story.

Nature's perfect food

Several years ago I surveyed some teachers at a workshop I was leading as to their Oreo-eating style. It had nothing to do with the workshop, but it was a good conversation starter.

How do YOU eat an Oreo?

a) I take a bite, chew it, and swallow it.
b) I dunk the Oreo in milk first.
c) I carefully twist off the top chocolate layer, eat the filling, then eat the chocolate top and bottom.
d) all of the above
e) none of the above
f) a and b
g) c and e
and it goes on and on.

In case you're interested, my preference is "c", but with Hydrox cookies, which have lost their place in the store-bought cookie market. But I digress.











More recently, I've taken an interest in approaches to eating the perfect Easter candy: Cadbury Mini-Eggs. Cadbury has attempted to lure those of us who lust after Mini Eggs to buy the Christmas version --red and green mini balls--but it ain't the same. Round instead of egg-shaped? Green and red instead of pastels? Come on!

The manner of consuming one of these delectables varies, but to get absolute flavor enjoyment, follow these simple steps:

1. Randomly select a handful of Mini Eggs (no more than 8 or 10).

2. Pop one Mini Egg in your mouth. Resist the urge to chomp down and smash it into bits.

3. Allow the powdery glaze on the crisp, sugary shell to slowly dissolve in your mouth.

4. Two choices here:
a. Enjoy carefully sucking on the crisp, sugary shell until it, too, dissolves in your mouth, exposing the fragrant milk chocolate interior, OR
b. Lightly use your incisors, bicuspids, and any other remaining teeth to carefully chip away at the crisp, sugary shell, cracking it off in small pieces and using your tongue to separate the shell layer from the chocolate interior.

5. It's up to you once again. Purists will proceed by patiently allowing the now-warmed chocolate to slowly melt into nothingness, enjoying the taste and smell of luscious chocolate. Those with limited patience will bite quickly and eagerly into the chocolate egg, forcing its disappearance in one quick gulp, thereby risking the need to be Heimliched.

Please share your preferred method of eating Cadbury Mini Eggs. I'll test your method, too, and get back to you on that.

Sorry, you've been outbid

Today was like Christmas, or maybe Hannukah. I've developed what could easily become an addition to looking for old-lady-grandma pins (jewelry) on e-bay. I went wacko bidding on some over the weekend, always staying within a reasonable price range, since most of the sellers get their pins from boxes of junk they buy at auctions, and the individual items aren't worth much. If I were smart, I'd ask Regis or Teresa to bid and snipe for me. They're experts. Anyway, back to that holiday feeling. Several of the pins I bid on and won arrived today, which I discovered when I stopped at home between student teacher observations. A few more are on their way, and then I'll call it quits. I was outbid on the two pins I wanted most of all, but you win some and you lose some.

One other item arrived today from an e-bay bit; a postcard of the Spring Valley post office, sent in 1908. It has Wykoff and Racine postmarks on it, along with a short note from the sender. 100 years ago, the postcard was in the mail, and now I have it to add to my collection. I've got the 66 Motel, which was right behind our house, an interior of the old Ward School, and a few others. I found a main street postcard with the Home Federal building and sign on it, and really want to buy it but the dang seller is charging too much. Who cares about those things except for a few of us who once lived there?

Not much

At last! Temperatures in the 40's! Spring may still exist.

Dad/Larry/Paco and I had a little discussion over dinner about why it was I cooked for him tonight (beef stir-fried with mushrooms, green beans, and cashews in a soy sauce-based sauce, on rice) but made plain old noodles for myself because my stomach has been flip-flopping all day. His claim is that we are partners and we share responsibilities. I suggested that making food for him when I may be sick seems unfair to me, and dangerous for him because of potentially harmful germs. He countered by saying that he takes the car to get the oil changed even when he's sick. What a selfless act of courage and partnership THAT is! Ha ha!

When I suggested that I don't really like to cook sometimes, Dad/Paco/Larry said, "But you do it so well." I resisted the urge to feel flattered, and responded that I would love to come home from work and have dinner waiting for me. His reply? "For the next two years, beginning with my retirement, that's how it will be." Can you hear my hysterical laughter? I'm betting if this comes to pass for even a day or two, we'll be eating canned soup and Spaghettios. Miles and Hannah, come over and I'll share my Spaghettios with you.

Here's a picture that vaguely resembles the stir-fry mentioned above.
Picture it with a mess-o-green beans
and with narrow beef strips instead of pork chunks.

Time, Nice Times, and Skype

Has anyone checked with the National Weather Service to find out if we can vote the guy who orders snow on a daily basis out of office? I have nothing against gigantic white fluffy snowflakes, not even if it IS the second week in March. What turns my crank is the persistent cold weather. But-- jump up and down everyone-- Daylight Saving Time should help. Huh?

Speaking of persistent and of time, my mind took a leap to Salvador Dali, strange Spanish/Catalan artist, now deceased. I imagine LSD helped his imagination, or at maybe some special mushrooms. His art is fascinating. When I taught Spanish, I read a lot about him, and I even tried to grow a handlebar moustache in his honor. Here are some of the ways he (and others he inspired) pictured time. Fun, huh?




While time is yet the topic, Dad/Larry/Paco and I had a nice time this weekend setting our clocks back. No, forward. Fall back, spring forward. I'm fairly certain the clocks in Mattson Hall will now be off by one hour and miscellaneously selected numbers of minutes.

We also had a nice time seeing Miley, Tanner, and Annie on Friday evening and Saturday. Miley was cute as ever, and happier than he's been in a while. Apparently he likes Veganism; he's an official Soy Boy right now. Beats the heck out of Pedialyte, doesn't it Miles?

Another nice time this weekend was talking with Charlie on the phone. Unfortunately, Angie was coughing up her lungs in the background. Her diagnosis of congestitis phlemosis of the respiratory system (see Angie's blog for complete information) is a rare one. We wish her well soon. We also wish Charlie the stamina to make it through the next couple of weeks. It's a stretch of long days for him. Charlie, don't get caught texting emails to Angie while you're interviewing.

I have one more nice time to share. Thanks to technology, we finally have become Skypers. Okay, so it sounds like something illegal or at least surreptitious, but it's not. We bought a web cam months ago. To make a long story short, we're finally using it, and today we watched Hannah eat some corn and peas and Cheerios, and flap her arms with excitement while we talked to her mom and dad. Evan and Elisabeth are Skypers now, too. It is amazing to be able to talk to Hannah and see her via the computer, confusing though it must be for a nine month old baby. Why didn't we do this sooner? Hmmm... I wonder...

That's about it for the niceness. Tonight will soon turn into tomorrow, a Monday once again. As I wrote a while back, it seems to happen every week about this time.

Saturday with Miles

It was a Miley Day today. Annie and Tanner had plans to shop in Rochester, with Miles as their traveling and shopping companion. The little guy has been sick the past few days, so his mommy and daddy were going to postpone the trip. I forced myself to ask if Grandpa/Dad/Larry/Paco and I could take care of Miles, if A & T still wanted to go to Rochester. It was either that, or stay home and clean the house and the garage, and do school-related work. Some choice! Miles was a sweetie, as always, with a little bit of whine thrown in today to remind us he's been ill. Pedialyte is starting to lose its charm for Miley, so we hope he's back to formula as soon as possible. He's been a little trooper AND a little pooper, but he's returning to good health, thanks to his mommy and daddy and their TLC.

Where's Miles?

Here he is...almost!

Miles and I read Mother Goose rhymes.

To cheer up Miley, Grandpa took him on a walking tour of his house, including a stop in front of the bathroom mirror to see another baby and another grandpa.
We stayed for supper (yummy pizza from Buck's Pizza and yummier brownies from Annie's oven), but first we were honored to be involved in the first professional home decorating assignment of B.G. Tanner, future decorator to the stars. B.G.T., thanks for your patience as the rest of us barked orders at you to move this and adjust that...you've got a great alternative career, should your gig at Federated not work out.

BGT uses his flare for decorating 

to add vine garland to the ledge.