It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

Catholic Humor Part 2: In our “Godmother Gazette” days, the creativity was running rampant. We even had an advertising department. (You see what happens when you clean out the storage closet? You find cool stuff like this, and then you are happy you didn’t toss it. However, the downside is that you think you have to keep things because you might want to look at them again, and then you are in the position of having to clean out the storage closet.)

Enjoy our twisted sense of adventure with the following ads:

Always acceptable and fun to enjoy your religion in a lighter way! I’m perusing some writing my witty daughter and I created a few years back and I’m compelled to share it with anyone who knows anything about the Bible.

“The Godmother Gazette” was written for my sister, to give her a few laughs. One of the best parts was a column Daughter and I dreamed up called, “Ask Chrysogonus.” (He’s a saint and martyr, btw, and has a cool name). I give you outtake number one.

Dear Chrys, I need parenting advice. My boys are getting on my nerves – it seems like they’re always trying to kill each other! In desperation, Eve

Dear Eve, Boys will be boys. Things were much simpler in Eden, weren’t they? You really don’t have anyone to blame but yourself – buck up. Your brother in Christ, Chrys

Once again…you have to know a bit about your Bible. I’ve got a few more for you, about as in-depth as this! Stay tuned.

I was subjecting myself to torture today, aka ‘receiving a pedicure,’ (I’m still having a bit of Cleopatra envy,) when I took the time to peruse one of my journals. It contains many, many lists. I must have been feeling “listless” and thought I could remedy that situation by making my compilations. Nevertheless, one of the lists caught my eye; “Things for which I am grateful.”

The mute button made it on the list. Why? So that I don’t have to listen to another “Natural Grocers” commercial! I even put that as the reason! As a matter of fact, I won’t go there because I cannot tolerate the commercials! I wouldn’t care if Cleopatra shopped there, I won’t go! (Okay, I think if she did actually shop there I would probably case the joint looking for her and invite her to coffee. But I wouldn’t cross the threshold of the store, I’d just hand her a shopping cart and make small talk outside. “Nice jewels! Great make-up, Girlfriend! Sorry about that whole Augustus thing with your family.”)

I do have a problem letting go of a good story.

As I enjoyed the sunset this evening, I was fortunate enough to be able to actually recall what I did today, unaided by alarms or notes! I met two friends for coffee this morning, their aliases being “Stacie” and “Lisa.” It brought to mind my first sips of coffee ever.

Mom – remember driving us out to the farm to have coffee with Grandpa and Grandma at 10 in the morning? Grandpa would come in from his morning chores and Grandma would let me have coffee, laden with cream, of course. The oldest I could have been was five. (Historical fact.) And we got to dunk our cookies in the coffee! Both habits stuck, the coffee and dunking a cookie in it whenever I get the two together. Of course, I shunned the cream in favor of straight up! I never wanted to get dependent on something I couldn’t be guaranteed of having, and that was a good thing for my college years, when times were lean.

Chatting with my other “farm wives” made me feel young-at-heart today!

Other than the “Dance of the Fitted Sheets,” it was a truly lazy day. Laundry aside, I finished “The Memoirs of Cleopatra,” 970 pages worth of sheer biographical fiction bliss. And I read the physical book – heavy and weighty! It was not a read for a pre-bedtime ritual because it was too unwieldy. I had to sit and read it at my kitchen table or risk injury to my neck and shoulders! I soldiered on.

When I finished, I had that feeling of loss which comes from putting the characters and story away. I believe I will have to mourn the end of a great story before finding my next read. I’m still a tad miffed at Cleopatra, too.

In the meantime, I will tend to my “to do” list which, I have successfully placed in my procrastination file.

Oh yeah….the clue in the New York Times Crossword today, “Take Two” Sunday title, was 104 down, “musical miscue.” It’s a “blat.” I did not know that, However, I managed to achieve it!

As most of you know, I play for Mass every Sunday evening, and have played the same hymns, psalms, parts of the Mass, for years! Years! Years! Years! I’m not sure I can emphasize “years” enough? Today, some part of my subconscious decided a musical miscue was in order.

An F# (F sharp) does not sound the same as an F flat….(How do I write that?) See the problem? Apparently, I am musically challenged. The same part I had played for years was subverted by either a misplacement of my hands, or a BLAT! I suddenly gave a huge miscue to an entire congregation. Oh, that it had only been once! I did it twice!!!!!!!!

Sigh. The real issue came with me trying not to laugh as I lead the entire congregation in song, commenced in the wrong key and switched to the correct one in a manner of one measure. This was the true test of restraint, as I physically face everyone with the current position of the piano. There is no doubt as to who made the glaring errors. Even though I felt like the epitome of an old church organist, I smiled and reminded myself I was playing a piano.

Thank goodness for The Golf Channel, and for David Attenborough narrating, “Planet Earth.” Without either one, I don’t think I’d ever get a decent nap in!

However, watching “Planet Earth” can keep me awake, because I realize Sir Attenborough is 93 years old and probably not napping. He’s still narrating new projects while I nod off to flamingoes dancing. Also, he manages to put excitement into the lone snow leopard cruising the Himalayas. This tantalizing bit of information can be enough to keep me awake.

And so, today the nap of choice will be found on The Golf Channel, because I am becoming keenly invested in seeing how this female snow leopard protects her young one while being pursued by a mate.

As I began the third hour of mowing the “back forty” today, I remembered why we used to go camping over the Fourth. It was so that we didn’t have to mow the “back forty!” Since I was on a roll with lawn maintenance, I decided to practice thistle mitigation after mowing. Life is full around here.

Why is it that one puny drop of weed killer will destroy an entire rose bush, but a gallon of the stuff will not take out a thistle? Nevertheless, I ritualistically engage in the sport of thistle wrestling each summer. Apparently, I think I am going to beat Mother Nature at her game, even though she has used her forces to bury entire civilizations. Thankfully, tomorrow I can plead the “Fifth,” and take a break from freeing the lawn of noxious weeds.

The sweet taste of pulling the wool over a friend’s eyes! Yes!

Backpedal……….A neighbor, let’s call her “Ann,” put a lovely meal for our family in a really ugly bag, yet useful in its nature. (I would name the company logo on the bag, but really, they meant it for good.) Tired of that bag living in my pantry, I returned it with a reciprocal gift in nature. Promptly, the person to whom I previously referred, sent the bag back with another gift of food. Two days later, I returned the bag with my wares. Two minutes later, I returned home with the bag filled with other lovely items. Why did she have to be so damn generous? I thought I would have to burn the bag to get rid of it.

As many times as I returned the bag, the aforementioned neighbor kept up her generosity, and that ugly bag kept coming home to me without a break in the action…..until today! I got my revenge!

Today, I was able to sneak onto her patio, deposit the bag on a chair, and nonchalantly walk away. Oh, I smiled. I fell to my knees in prayerful gratitude. I laughed silently, knowing it would take days for her to discover my sleuthing nature. Cleverness ruled. Supreme pride in successfully instigating a prank. I did it! The bag was back in her possession after three months. She would find it, curse me, and be stuck with it in her pantry for three months! The story of my glory would be told for generations!

(Expletive) That stupid bag came back two hours later.

Lesson learned…Don’t look a gift bag in the horse, or in the mouth, or in the anything. (Unless you have another neighbor visiting who could have a name that rhymes with “Marsha.” She could be the new owner of a gift bag/horse!)

The ceremonial burning of the bag (because that’s the only way I will never see it again) will be next week….call for details.

Now, I didn’t intend to do it, but I found myself separating by color. I was slightly aghast when I realized I was doing it, too. It was a necessary duty though. My closet rod was jammed with empty hangers, and I had to get rid of some. In trying to keep the best hangers – those thick tubular ones – I weeded out the colored ones! Truly, this was not intentional! It just happens that the only thick hangers I own are white, and I needed those heavy hangers for those heavy coats.

It all got me to thinking, too. The colored hangers are prettier and way more fun: lime green, aqua, red, blue, purple. Also, in the midst of them I still had wire hangers that my grandparents had crocheted around. They are ultra-colorful since they were made with yarn leftovers, and they are also extremely utilitarian. Clothes don’t slide off of them, and you can put safety pins on them to hold skirts.

So, I moved them around, didn’t get rid of any, and concluded that the diversity of hangers proves that they are all worthy and serve a purpose. (Just like people, right?)