The rain went on until I thought I’d go mad. Adrienne had her last day of seventh grade, in a gray drizzle. The cat sulked on the porch, glaring at the sloppy overgrown grass. The guinea pig sulked in her cage, because she couldn’t go out to nibble the clover. Jimmy the Mechanic had to put off the repairs and maintenance he’d planned on Sacre Bleu, which meant the air conditioning didn’t work properly, but that hardly mattered because it... Read more
At the end of the world, I got my house ready for a party. I told the Artful Dodgers I was baking cookies in the afternoon. This was the day of the Mandrake’s graduation from preschool, and I wanted to treat them to something. I didn’t have any money to buy her a present, but I had a package of cake mix, and a very good recipe for cake mix cookies with sprinkles. The children promised me they’d be... Read more
I just want to remind you that every choice our government makes has real consequences, for real people. Everybody likes it when I tell stories about the children who live in LaBelle: Jimmy’s boy, the Baker Street Irregulars, the Artful Dodgers. People sometimes wish they could see pictures (which I don’t post publicly, because they’re somebody else’s minor children of course). Once in awhile, somebody mails me clothes or another little gift for one of them. You should know that,... Read more
I woke up anxious as ever. The day might come when I don’t immediately panic and pray to God not to hurt me when I open my eyes. But I don’t expect that day any time soon. Morning is when I rocket back into consciousness and panic that I’m going to hell. Jesus, please be patient. I’m doing my best. Please don’t hurt me. With the morning petitions finished, I stumbled down to get my coffee. Charlie the cat’s breakfast... Read more
There was a knock at the door. I was lying on the sofa, putting off getting ready for Mass, because I was anxious. But I was even more anxious when I heard the knock. It was so hard and insistent that I ran to the door, thinking it must be the police. But it was the Artful Dodger with his sister, the middle child, the one who’s tall and skinny like a sylph. Jimmy’s Boy was with them. Charlie the... Read more
So, we have a new Pope. The new Pope’s name is Leo XIV, an American, and everybody’s got an opinion about him. I do too. I was having fun teasing the MAGAs on social media a couple weeks ago after the conclave, because the new Pope seems to despise J. D. Vance. But I haven’t written much more about him, except for a few paragraphs on my other blog talking about how significant it is that he’s from the... Read more
I never thought I’d be the mother of a traumatized cat. Charlie the stray is still sleeping on my porch. She chases off the other strays, not to mention the groundhogs, so the yard is nicer than it was before she came. She hides from the children who are her rightful owners, and comes out when they’re gone. She arches her back and hisses to protect me when a stray dog happens by. Every morning, as Adrienne leaves for school,... Read more
As the sun was getting low, I went out to inspect the garden. Charlie the cat sauntered out of her cat house on the porch, careful not to look too excited to see me. Adrienne or I usually bring out a treat at nightfall. And then she bolted back, because the whole neighborhood rocked with the sound of wheels. Jimmy’s boy whizzed by in one of those plastic cars you propel with your feet like the Flintstones. The Artful Dodger... Read more
I dreamed I was at the Papal Conclave. In the dream, it made sense that I was in the Vatican for the Papal Conclave. I wasn’t the only lay person there. There were tourists of every race and nationality at the conclave, dressed rather casually, in among the clerics. Some of the tourists were on the floor in bedrolls and mattresses. People were talking and arguing. I was showing Adrienne Michelangelo’s famous ceiling. And then the gunshots began. I... Read more
If not for the worry, I would be happy. On Monday I went to pray and hike and worry on that glorious trail to the waterfall, the place where I’ve gone to pray in despair and in not knowing and in breaking the ice with Jesus. The trail was bombarded in several places with fallen trees from the storm last week, and the crick was still unusually high. The first part of my pilgrimage was more like a parkour... Read more
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