Bare Bottomed Backyard Baby Boys

I love this little head.

Gussy's new obsession -- the green ball!

Gussy, the grill & the big green tree.

Keeping cool in the ocean -- Gussy jumps in. Haven takes his time.

Manchop and a mountain.

Cherub babies. You see, I saved the best for last ...

Sister Teresa

I just finished Sister Teresa by Barbara Mujica. And before I return this worthwhile read to my local librarians with an apology letter and a box of chocolates for being heinously late, let me share a line or two that gripped me. Here, Sister Angelica, through whom the author shares Teresa's story, writes about music:

"I loved the harmonies, the voices raised in exaltation, not because they made me feel one with God, but simply because they were beautiful. But who knows, maybe that was God's way of calling me to Him. He made me love music. And because I loved music, I sang. And because I sang, I prayed. And praying, I felt his presence."

Mujica displays such literary mastery throughout this rich biopic of one of the 16th Century's leading Mystics and Saints. At times I teetered on closing the book for good when Mujica's depiction of certain religious' human failings threatened to wander into sensationalism. I trudged on, however, and am happy to report that all such scenarios were in line with the needs of the narrative. I give it a B; B for beautiful; B for boring; B for beautiful beyond boring.

Misplaced Statues

Strangest thing.

I went to order prints of these photos and thought I'd tell you their story. Almost a year ago I grabbed the camera and drove down the street to an abandoned church to shoot these statues. I had never done such a thing before and have not since. I'm really not one to take pictures but I've always loved how these statues just lift up my heart.

I wanted to frame their likeness in my livingroom. So I shot a few snaps, returned a week later and they were gone. The church's windows were smashed as well.

Sweetest Daddy

Like any human creature, Pete is a mix of sin and virtue. And in spite of his failings, (which as a wife I see all too quickly and clearly) he is the most perfect Daddy. Happy Father's Day, Pete.

What's better ...

Than one skirt sewn from a $1.00 thrift store tablecloth?

TWO MATCHING skirts sewn from a $1.00 thrift store tablecloth!!!

I had so much fun sewing this graduation gift for my spunky sister in law, Debbie, that I had to post a photo for no other reason than bragging & shouting to the world that I made my first tablecloth ensemble!

Besides, who wants more lousy money for graduation?? All Valedictorian's deserve clothes lovingly sewn out of grandma's old housewares.

Good Lookin' Guys

Stealing Bananas

The first time I handed the checkout girl a hollow banana skin I winced and asked in a whisper, "Could you just weigh another one twice ... uh ... he got really hungry."

Since then I've grown in my propensity to deflect embarrassment. Most recently, for example, a teenage cashier bemused a confused, blank stare as he dangled the drooping, yellow skin by its nubby tip.

"It came like that," I shot with arms up in the air.

Lucky 7

Yesterday, Pete and I marked 7 years of marriage.

To comment on the event, I'll open with a quote from Madonna -- Madonna, as in the material girl -- the one who's "like a virgin" -- not the one who is in fact still one ...

"Marriage is tremendously harder than I ever thought it would be, but equally more fulfilling than I ever thought it would be as well."

I couldn't agree more.

And I'll close this marking with a more valuable quote from my dear dear friend Rose (she's one of those guru gem friends who I'm lost without).

"One must view marriage through the lense of the matrimonial sacrament to understand that it is meant to be a work of sanctification/ salvation in progress -- rather than a perfected happy state. It is meant to be a place where those involved are being purged of sin and perfected; the process can be ugly."

God bless you, Rose. God bless you more, Pete.

Agony in the Garden

9 out of 10 of the times I drag my lazy self to pray the rosary, the grand occasion falls on a Tuesday or a Friday -- the days we meditate the sorrowful mysteries in the life of Christ.

I like to think Our Lady knows my childhood focused more on Christ's more cheerful moments and my soul benefits from the balance.

Tuesday night, the Agony in the Garden struck a chord.

Whose suffering am I sleeping through?