There’s never a convenient time to loss your voice, right? Especially a week of dance lessons, though! Yesterday was a dance lesson/ theology chat with some of the young’un’s at a local Univeristy.
They look so good, right??
Fun fact: I’m, like, so old. I have this professional schedule that doesn’t usually include me staying up until 11:00 p.m. on weeknights, OK? Oh, geez! LOL. Happy circumstance: my yawning has popped my ears. So…win?
There’s another lesson slated for Monday–crossing my fingers I sound more like a lady and less like a man (which is what I sound like, in my mind, when my voice deepens due to yuck).
I’m sure you all remember my cousin:
Well. Girl’s night tonight. Seester and cousin and myself plan on hitting up the town!
But not into the wee hours. See point one: we work and stuff.
But! That won’t stop us from eating good food and engaging in good conversation! Yes yes yes!
My sister, Christine, who is direct in everything came home this morning (midnight shift, remember) and said, “It’s your job to find a restaurant tonight. I’m not here to waste time.”
She probably even pointed a menacing finger.
My duty. There you have it.
It’s a toughie. Hipster-food is akin to poetry in my book. But sometimes Christine likes a good girl’s drink on a girl’s night…and I’m not here to argue. But I’m also in the middle of soup season, and when I think “food” I think “soup”. What I’m saying is: this isn’t as easy as it sounds.
By the way, this is so real in my life:
And I laugh every time I read this one:
I literally had to ask my coworker, “Sooooo, is there sporting event this weekend?”
To which she responded in the affirmative.
I realize that some people really enjoy watching sports, but it’s not really my charism…so I look forward to a Sunday of everyone else holed up inside and me being FREEEEEEE in the great outdoors.
Also this weekend. A bunch of my clothing has reached the borderline shameful quality with holes and stuff. So, I’ve been pitching it in the trash relentlessly…but now I kind of need new things to replace the old things.
Step aside, Macklemore, it’s time to pop some tags. With my mom, yeah!
I’m kind of in the middle of a 54-day novena with Kathryn, which is awesome.
See, I appreciate/ enjoy the rosary as a form of prayer, but I’m not super good at sticking to it daily. Unless, it seems, it’s a novena. Because I’m a sucker for novenas. And now we’ve passed the halfway point which crossed us from “petition” to “thanksgiving” territory and you know me and I say: party on!
This one might seem weird to ya’ll, but I’m adding it because…I CAN. (And I’m four years old?)
The Syrophenican woman.
She’s this woman who approached Jesus in the Gospel and asks Him to heal her daughter but he’s like, “Feed the children, not the dogs,” and she’s like, “Even the dogs eat the scraps that the kids throw on the floor,” and Jesus is like, “You have faith! Your daughter is healed.”
And I had been really tripped up about it for weeks being like, “This isn’t right. I know God, He isn’t like that.”
So then I finally wrote on my friend’s wall and he and another guy delivered some church father goodness:
Theophylact (great name, right??): “The soul of each of us also, when he falls into sin, becomes a woman; and this soul has a daughter who is sick, that is, evil actions; this daughter again has a devil, for evil actions arise from devils. Again, sinners are called dogs, being filled with uncleanness. For which reason we are not worthy to receive the bread of God, or to be made partakers of the immaculate mysteries of God; if however in humility, knowing ourselves to be dogs, we confess our sins, then the daughter, that is, our evil life, shall be healed.”
If you’re into early church-commentary, you can love it along with me. (SO INSTENSE! I kind of want to write a theater-piece for a Syrophenician woman where she’s involved in an intense throw-down of rhymes.
But, I don’t really know a lot about bustin’ rhymes.
If not, you can just be impressed, as I was, that I know people who can throw that kinda research onto the internet within the hour.
Faith community, people, it’s a thang.
I think we can just stop the contest for here and all eternity because it is official: I have the cutest friends. The cutest ones.
This afternoon two gentlemen messaged me separately, one to see where I was in accomplishing my dreams and the other to see how we could better serve the poor.
I’m crazy-lucky and I melted into a pool of happiness, too. Because I just love that that’s who they are. And I love that I get to know them.
So, be hopeful, friends: good men exist.
For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!