smockmomma: February 2004 Archives
You are the power behind the throne. Rome would have fallen apart if you hadn't stepped in and saved it from anarchy. You're not above scheming, lying, and even murdering in order to keep your family in power. You are strong and determined, but you sometimes regret being born a female. In a world where men have the power, you are resigned to rule with your husband.
You were portrayed
by Sian Phillips.
i know i should be ashamed to be so excited by this, but the freaky in me just loves livia! i think i'd have rated as poor julia however, had she been an option. I, CLAVDIVS is my all time favorite mini-series, the hub and i watch the videos at least once a year. snaps to the secret agent man for the link.
thanks to all of y'all who've inquired about my dog, Dixie Belle. i finally have really good news! today, for the first time since she was hit by a car, she was playing with our chihuahua, Chi Chi. since the accident she's been too sore, but now it looks as though she's finally getting some of her vigor back. thank you, Saint Francis!
apparently a woman with a heart condition, may she rest in peace, collapsed while viewing the crucifixion scene in The Passion and later died at a hospital.
If God has a face
What would it look like?
And would you want to see
If seeing meant that you would have to believe
In things like heaven and in Jesus and the saints and all the prophets?
And yeah yeah God is great
Yeah yeah God is good
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Trying to make his way home
Trying to make his way home
Back up to heaven all alone
Nobody callin' on the phone
Except for the Pope maybe in Rome...
Artist: Joan Osborne
Song: What If God Was One Of Us
You're Compassion Fatigue!
by Susan Moeller
You used to care, but now it's just getting too difficult. You cared about the plight of people in lands near and far, but now the media has bombarded you with images of suffering to the point that you just don't have the energy to go on. You've become cold and heartless, as though you'd lived in New York City for a year or so. But you stand as a serious example to all others that they should turn off their TV sets and start caring again.
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.
lemme tell y'all i saw SpecialK this morning at Mass...she looks so ready to have this sweet baby, it isn't even funny. my feet started to swell in sympathy! please pray for a safe and uncomplicated delivery. i'm still counting on a leap year baby...especially if she continues her present madness of painting her bedroom!
(warning: shameless self promo ahead)
totally coolmoe new (saint) blog: Popcorn Critics.
to all of the winners!
and for the 49 kind souls who voted for the Summa Mamas as best group blog, thanks! we had no idea we knew that many people!
you'll forgive me, dear reader, if i'm a little late in reporting the news that barbie and ken have broken up. yes, i know, but it's true. and don't think mattel isn't milking this break up for everything it's worth. corporate pigs. milking this sordid affair for a buck! for shaaame.
after years of shacking up with ken, barb's decided to strike out on her own. well, i knew this was bound to happen as soon as barbie started putting her career before ken. she went from being a nurse to a doctor. then as soon as she started talking about equality, her clothes started getting skimpier and skimpier. then she started getting all uppity and feministy. the writing has been on the wall at least since the early eighties, people.
i assumed they were keeping up appearances for skipper's sake, but barbie's publicist hinted that she was tired of ken's "commitment phobia." but hey, as MamaT pointed out in her post below, it's the rare man who wants a wife who shows everything all the time to everyone.
i know i sound schizophrenic about this. am i, or am i not, happy that barbie and ken are no longer living in sin? well, according to some sources, barbie has already been linked to the "new and improved" male surfer doll, blaine. if this is the case she's just jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. i mean, really barbie. wake up and smell the coffee, honey.
blaine? the hottie from "down under" with his tight surfer shorts and blonde highlights? you mark my words, blaine is mattel's first gay doll.
on a the brighter side, according to mrs. dashwood, cathy and irving are engaged. thank goodness some couples still have true values.
someone named kaylasmommy30 thoughtfully sent me a nice little email with a link to a "live college cam" .... i promptly wrote back with a little "shame on you" email of my own.
when it didn't bounce back -- most do, as your average run of the mill porn pushers typically delete the email address right after they mass mail -- i thought just for fun (since i, too, am an aol subscriber) i'd look her profile up.
turns out the porn pusher in this case is Linda from Worcester MA. she works in a nursing home, scary thought, huh? she has never been married, but she does have a boyfriend. of course, she is kayla's mommy. oh, and she has leopard skin wallpaper on her profile page. why didn't that surprise me?
are people really this stupid?
now, before i'm lambasted for being uncharitable, mind you, i didn't ask this woman, and i use the term loosely, to send me pornography. in a nutshell, i'm mad as hell, and i'm not gonna take it any more.
even winnie-the-pooh has to have limits!
I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new. Shall I not call God the Beautiful, who daily showeth himself so to me in his gifts? I chide society, I embrace solitude, and yet I am not so ungrateful as not to see the wise, the lovely and the noble-minded, as from time to time they pass my gate. Who hears me, who understands me, becomes mine,—a possession for all time. Nor is nature so poor but she gives me this joy several times, and thus we weave social threads of our own, a new web of relations: and, as many thoughts in succession substantiate themselves, we shall by-and-by stand in a new world of our own creation, and no longer strangers and pilgrims in a traditionary globe. My friends have come to me unsought. The great God gave them to me. By oldest right, by the divine affinity of virtue with itself, I find them, or rather not I, but the Deity in me and in them, both deride and cancel the thick walls of individual character, relation, age, sex, circumstance, at which he usually connives, and now makes many one. High thanks I owe you, excellent lovers, who carry out the world for me to new and noble depths, and enlarge the meaning of all my thoughts. These are not stark and stiffened persons, but the new-born poetry of God,—poetry without stop,—hymn, ode and epic, poetry still flowing and not yet caked in dead books with annotation and grammar, but Apollo and the Muses chanting still. Will these too separate themselves from me again, or some of them? I know not, but I fear it not; for my relation to them is so pure that we hold by simple affinity, and the Genius of my life being thus social, the same affinity will exert its energy on whomsoever is as noble as these men and women, wherever I may be.
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882), 1841
happy valentine's day!
from the smockmomma
As an update to MamaT's earlier post on Lost in Translation in which she speculated that I would like this movie more than she did, I must tell you that she was sooo right on!
First of all, I know why this film has been nominated for four Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actor and Best Director). Lost in Translation is incredible and rewarding. Hey, it’s incredibly rewarding.
I haven't laughed out loud this heartily in ... oh, I don't even know how long. And I haven't felt this sad for such unassuming characters in ages. In fact, I don’t think I’ve cared at all for characters this unassuming. Translation is probably the best character-driven melodrama I’ve ever seen, and I assure you that I’m not in the habit of tossing out accolades. If I have any bias it comes from the fact that the comedy is extremely subtle . . . and, while it is a characteristic I simply do not possess, I adore subtlety. Also, I’ve always been intrigued by themes of isolation and it’s actually refreshing to see such a sober theme done with heart and done well. It was also surprisingly metaphysical: both characters are lost in translation. They understand neither the Japanese culture nor the language and both characters are really lost, lost in more ways than one. Charlotte is emotionally and physically abandoned by her husband, while Bob just seems misplaced – both in his marriage and his career.
Make no mistake, Bill Murray earns his Oscar nod. This is the first time I’ve seen him actually acting like a bona-fide grown-up, and he's darn great at it. His character, Bob, is so ingeniously complex – dry yet gentle, sly but vulnerable. I couldn’t help but wonder what his wife was missing. But that’s the beauty of this film; it brings home the fact that we are all so flawed, but essentially redeemable. Murray is not only witty, he’s delightful and charming.
Scarlet Johansson, who plays Charlotte, is virtually a fetus when it comes to both age and acting, but it would be unfair to simply dismiss her ability because she’s really good. Perhaps her role doesn’t appear all that demanding; regardless, she plays lost, nay disengaged, very well. I actually felt sorry for Charlotte and was somehow drawn to her -- she embodies Japanimation with her wide eyes and collagenized lips, that perpetual "baby" look that brings out the maternal in me, I guess. The fact that she’s a Yale graduate stumped me at first. But again, that’s the genius of the movie. That little nugget just proves that even smart people can make really stupid mistakes when it comes to love.
There is absolutely no doubt that the film was directed by a woman (Sofia Coppola – up for two awards, one for writing the screenplay and one for directing it). If I’m not mistaken this is only her second film. It’s an incredible argument for Nature over Nurture. The most uncomfortable scene is the strip club scene, but under Coppola’s direction, it is survivable and important. Bob's disinterest and disenchantment with the whole skin-show scene are palpable, and when he reaches out to steady the whore, it’s pure compassion on his character’s part. No one but a woman could manage to direct that – no one but a woman would even think to write it. What’s more, as MamaT pointed out, the main characters, while deeply drawn to each other, do not indulge in adultery. I can practically guarantee that if a man had directed Translation, they’d have managed to get it on…even if they would have had to get rip roaring drunk in order to "trip" into it. No offense fellas, but you know it's true. Coppala makes sure you understand that what you're witnessing is a friendship, not lust. Yes, Bob is in the throws of a mid-life crisis and, yes, Charlotte, for all her learnin', has only a tentative grasp of the real world and is charmed by this older man's acumen, but this is camaraderie...born of necessity perhaps, but true nonetheless.
The icing on the cake? The score. I really want this soundtrack. The dream-pop lazy music is perfect for the heavy sigh feeling Bob and Charlotte roam around in most of the time.
In a word, Lost in Translation is brilliant.
And, for those of you who've seen the film . . . lip my stockin!
5:5 Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.
8:28 And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.
"why do the heathen so furiously rage together?" (psalm2)
okay fellow parishioners, i'm sick and tired of this present darkness for the 2004 elections, so i am launching my official campaign. i'm running on the "isn't there anyone Catholic to vote for? " ticket of Why Not?
please consider signing this electronic petition against judicial tyranny AKA the Massachussetts Court's determination to force legalized "gay marriage" on the people of that state and, ultimately, on the rest of us.
but i say 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it.'
our eldest smockdoggy was hit by a car tonight. thanks to many prayers, Dixie Belle is already back home. the emergency vet sent her home with no broken bones and only minor lacerations, but stiff as all get out and whining pathetically. it's breaking my heart.
we aren't having much luck with cars this week. smockmomma's momma, Charlene, was in a car accident wednesday. no broken bones, with only minor lacerations, but stiff as all get out. no whining...except about her car which was totalled.
continued prayers of thanksgiving and petition for recovery for both will be appreciated.
before someone mentions the "order" here, i do love my mom much more than my dog, but the fact that my mom can talk and reason is comforting. my poor Dixie Belle just cries and looks at me like, "what's happening?" oh, it's too sad, blast it!
I am a twenty-three year old, liberated woman who
has been on the pill for two years. It's getting
very expensive and I think my boyfriend should share
half the cost, but I don't know him well enough to
discuss money with him.
I obviously have way too much time on my hands this evening, much like the mad little student-scientists who recorded this study of the effects of smoking and alcohol on everybody's (well, not mine) favorite Easter treat, Peeps.
thanks to the summa's wacky neighbor christian for the link.
a not-altogether-too-uncommon colloquy in the SmockMaison.
hub: (switching off the alarm clock) s'time t'getup. you gettin' the kids breakfast?
smockmomma: (lovingly nuzzles the brow of the babe cradled to her breast) i cannot at this moment for i am feeding our baby.
smockmomma: (shocked) oh my! the dogs are eating the dirt off your shoes.
hub: (muses over his shoulder) why don't you feed the dogs?
smockmomma: (lovingly staring down at the babe cradled in her arms) i fear i simply cannot for i am feeding our precious baby.
hub: (inquires absently) are you hungry yet?
smockmomma: (answers thoughtfully) hmm... i think i am.
hub: whater y'cookin? HA!
smockmomma: (smiles sweetly) i would love to be able to cook something tasty and wholesome for you at present, my dearest darling. alas, (kissing the forehead of the babe cradled in her arms) i cannot for i am feeding my baby.
hub: (sniffs) what's fer dinner?
smockmomma: (patiently) dinner will be ready shortly, darling.
hub: (scratches) lemme guess. you can't cook cuz yer feedin' the baby.
smockmomma: (knits her brow, puzzled) whatever do you mean, dearest lover?
hub: (snorts) i swear i'd grow a breast if it got me outta doin half the stuff you use it to get outta. (mimicks) i can't do this, i'm feeding the baby. i simply can't do that, i'm breastfeeding.
hub: YES! i wanna lay around all day wrapped in a fleece blanket like a burrito feeding the baby.
smockmomma: all day?
smockmomma: i see.
hub: damn straight you see.
hub: that's more like it. (snaps the paper for emphasis and sets it aside)
smockmomma: (nods emphatically)
hub: (clearing his throat) now. what do you want me to make for dinner?
we must be a buncha un-American freaks here in the SmockMaison. come to find out we are the only people we know who didn't watch the superbowl thingie or its adverts, so we had to hear all the hoopla second hand. thank God for small favors.
Okay, smockmomma has two cents to throw in:
In the words of Frances White (as Julia) in I, CLAVDIVS: "FAT? Well, if I'm fat, I'm fat where a woman ought to be! Not skinny like a boy!"
Sorry. I simply couldn't resist. No offense to our skinny readers. ANYway...
As a society, we are so used to living it up, feasting, if you will. So when Mother Church allows us to Feast --every Sunday is a Feast Day, you knew that, right? -- just eating our normal fare would usually suffice. And, when we are called to Fast we may make all sorts of excuses not to, but by definition we still know what it means. The dilemma comes during the "in-between" -- Ordinary Time. We know how to Feast and we know how to Fast. But, how do we live Ordinary?
I smoked for eighteen years...loved every cotton-pickin minute of it. When I smoked "in Ordinary Time" I had no struggles. The only time I struggled with it -- not for health reasons, or stinky clothes reasons or vanity, or even monetary "HOW MUCH?" reasons -- was when it came to my chitlins or when I saw the smokes as my god. Yup. Sometimes I knew that my fear, anger, angst, frustration (or whatever the problem) would be better off at the foot of the cross, but it was faster and easier to light up rather than kneel down.
So it goes, as I see it, with food...or any other thing we turn to when it's God we should be seeking. Now, boredom seems another matter, but that's where the Ordinary Time should kick in, right?
MamaT and I have discussed this concept before, and I'm trying to convince her to write a book, aptly entitled Living in Ordinary Time. Feel free to help me along in encouraging her.