All Souls' Day

Father of all, we pray to thee for those we love but see no longer. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, we pray thee to set thy passion, cross, and death, between thy judgment and our souls, now and in the hour of our death. Give mercy and grace to the living, pardon and rest to the dead, to thy holy Church peace and concord, and to us sinners everlasting life and glory; who with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and ever.

Ross Arnett, Jr.
Mary Arnett
Robert Crowell
Jo Ann Crowell
Elizabeth Russell
Thomas Russell
And for all the faithful departed

Réquiem ætérnam dona eis, Dómine,
et lux perpétua lúceat eis.
Requiéscant in pace. Amen.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace. Amen.

The Feast of All Saints

Sancti Omnes, orate pro nobis!


Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

Mary and Joseph, pray for us.
Michael and all angels, pray for us.
Anna, Joachim, Elizabeth, pray for us.
Elijah, Moses, John the Baptist, pray for us.
Isaac, Sarah, Abraham, pray for us.
Jacob, Joseph, Samuel, pray for us.
Ruth, David and Solomon, pray for us.
Isaiah, Jeremiah, pray for us.
All you holy men and women, pray for us.

Peter, Paul, Andrew, pray for us.
James, John, and all apostles, pray for us.
Mary Magdelene, Veronica, pray for us.
Barnabas, Matthias, pray for us.
Stephen, Philip, and Cornelius, pray for us.
Prisca and Aquila, pray for us.
Timothy and Titus, pray for us.
Linus, Cletus, and Clement, pray for us.
All you holy men and women, pray for us.

Lawrence and Chrysogonus, pray for us.
Innocent and Boniface, pray for us.
Hippolytus and Origen, pray for us.
Athanasius and Basil, pray for us.
Felicity, Perpetua, pray for us.
Cosmos and Damien, pray for us.
John Chrysostom and Justin, pray for us.
Lucy, Agatha, and Agnes, pray for us.
All you holy men and women, pray for us.

Jerome and Eusebius, pray for us.
Scholastica and Benedict, pray for us.
Ambrose, Monica, Augustine, pray for us.
Martin and Gregory, pray for us.
Clare, Francis, and Dominic, pray for us.
Francis Xavier, Ignatius, pray for us.
Elizabeth and Catherine, pray for us.
Louis and Wenceslaus, pray for us.
All you holy men and women, pray for us.

Lord, be merciful, save your people.
From all evil, save your people.
From every sin, save your people.
From everlasting damnation, save your people.
By your incarnation, save your people.
By your death and resurrection, save your people.
By your gift of the spirit, save your people.
Have mercy on us sinners, save your people.
Christ hear us, Lord Jesus hear our prayer.

Lord give new life, hear our prayer.
To his chosen, hear our prayer.
By the grace of baptism, hear our prayer.
Oh Jesus Son of the living God, hear our prayer.
Send your Spirit, hear our prayer.
In its fullness, hear our prayer.
On your sons and daughters, hear our prayer.
Who believe and profess you, hear our prayer.
Christ hear us, Lord Jesus hear our prayer.

AJ Update

Anthony Jr. has been home for about two weeks now. He has gotten so big. It is odd to count a 5 month old baby that weighs 6 lbs big, but it is big for him. He's doing very well. He came home with only oxygen and a feeding tube, which is really great. My mom says he is a very animated baby and even has a little bit of a temper. I'll place money that he gets that from the Arnetts. Anyway, here is a pic of him and my brother.

Post-it Note

I haven't had a lot of time to write lately. The semester (or quarter or term or whatever they call it here) is winding down and there is only a week left of classes. After this week I get a week off of work. Yay! I teach four classes next semester (two English 101s and two English 102s) and I'll be working at the writing lab for a pretty sweet hourly sum. I'm coming home from November 5th to November 10th.

I had lots of bad dreams last night. I had a dream that someone close to me died. I also had a dream that I had a baby that killed me and ate my brain. I don't even want to get into the symbolism. I'll just bury that dream in a dark place and wait for it to manifest itself through an irrational fear or another personality. Whoo!

I'll have a real post soon.

School Daze

Well, yeah... I am seriously thinking about going back to get my PhD now. Wow. That took less than six months (and less than two months on the job) for me to realize that working isn't that much fun. It's funny because when I finished in May, I was all like, "I'm never going back to school. It's no fun and almost everyone in academia is disassociated from the world of real people." You know, real people? The people who have never even heard about the Junius manuscript, and even if they did hear about it, they wouldn't care at all. I think this is at least 99.98% of the world's population, but I haven't done the math.

I still believe that last part- the part about academics being disassociated from the real world. I'm just excited about it now instead of disheartened. David had a good insight yesterday about our different motivations for wanting a PhD. He said that I want to be an academic (aka- someone who has the degree, the job, and can spout off some smart stuff) but I don't want to get involved with expert research and specialized study. He, on the other hand, wants to get involved with the research and specialized study, but he doesn't necessarily want the associations that go along with being an academic. (It sounded better and I'm sure made more sense when he said it)

It's true that we have used the term "academic" as a dirty word in our household before, but that's because many professors seem zeroed in on just one aspect of life and it gets under our skin. But on Wednesday and Thursday I got to talk to some professors and former classmates who are really cool and don't seem disconnected at all. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've found out that I can be an academic and a real person at the same time. I can tell people about the Augustinian influences in Donne's poems and still mistake Rowan Williams for Rowan Atkinson all in the same day.

So I'm going to check out UC's comparative lit. department next week and I'll go from there.

In Lafayette

The prize winning David O'Neil has just graciously deposited his prize winning check into our (not so) prize winning joint bank account. Perhaps I should let him keep it all and spend the whole wad on Chipotle like he would probably do. What's the point of having a prize if you can't buy neat or yummy things with it? But alas, the check is going toward rent. Boo.

The awards ceremony last night was nice because I got to see the person I love recognized as a fellow who is a promising scholar and cool guy. It was also neat because it made me think about going back for my PhD.

We're in Lafayette right now, but we have to go back in about three hours. Boo again.

My Birthday Week Approacheth

I, like Caitie, absolutely love my birthday. Most people probably love their birthday even if they don't admit it or act like it. I just happen to act like it. A lot. First, I happen to be born in the best month of the entire year: October. This is the month where the weather is perfect, football is on every weekend, everybody wears their cutest clothes, and people have entire celebrations devoted to good beer. But it gets even better for me. I happen to be born on the best day of the best month, which is the 15th. I get to say I was born on the ides of October, and that would be cool enough. However, October 15th also happens to be the day the Gregorian calendar was put into effect. See, the Julian calendar had some problems with it, and in 1582 Pope Gregory XIII was told something had to be done. The vernal equinox was drifting back and the date of Easter was way off, and there were about ten days that needed to be scratched from the calender. So Gregory XIII said that everyone would go to sleep on October 4th and they would wake up on Monica's birthday...I mean October 15th. From then on, the Gregorian calendar has been in place. As if the day couldn't get any better, October 15th is also the feast day of St. Theresa of Avila. So as you can see, this day is extremely cool. I'm so glad I decided to be born on October 15th instead of my due date at the end of November.

But you might be asking yourself about the title of this post. What the hell is a Birthday Week? Well, about six years back I was a little stressed out about my approaching birthday. How was I going to visit all my family, various groups of friends, see David, and have some coveted time to myself all in one day? And then it hit me. Like a modern day calendar wizard, I decided to expand my birthday to an entire week. Pope Gregory XIII would be proud, I think. I decided that I would do some special things by myself a couple of days before my birthday, spend my real birthday with my family, and spend the rest of the week with friends. The result was a smashing success. Here's my Birthday Week itinerary for this year-

October 13th (Saturday)-Birthday Week opening ceremonies, ie, mention to David that my Birthday Week has begun. Go to the Cincinnati Art Museum, which is free, and look at all the cool exhibits.

October 14th(Sunday)- Go to mass. Then veg out on documentaries from the library and drink iced coffee all day. Oh, by the way, when you go to church on the 14th you have to keep me in your prayers and request that I become a better wife, daughter, sister, and friend. This is a Birthday Week Decree, so it can't be refused. Anyway, most of you know me, and you know I need these prayers. It'll actually be to your benefit.

October 15th, my actual birthday(Monday)- Go to mass in the morning if I can swing it. By the way, all those who go to daily mass can pray for me on this day as well. Then after work, David is taking me out to Olives, a hip little restaurant down the street from us. He says I can even get dessert. Woot.

October 16th (Tuesday)- Sleep in. Wake up whenever and take a lovely walk around our cool neighborhood. I plan to stop by all the cool little shops on our street and look at all the neat houses around the block.

October 17th (Wednesday)- Go to Lafayette for David's Outstanding Thesis award. See how gracious I am? I'm sharing my Birthday Week limelight with David. David will be presented with a $500 check and we'll get a $350 travel voucher. That means we've rented a sedan to come to Lafayette, booked a room at the Holiday Inn Select with a king sized bed, and have planned a trip to exotic Thai. I also get to see my parents who will be there for the award thing. After the award ceremony or whatever it is, we're going to Kristin's parents' house to hang out with Kristin et al.

October 18th (Thursday)- Wake up in a king sized bed. Go to breakfast on Purdue's dime. Walk from the Holiday Inn Select to the Frozen Custard in Wabash Landing. Order a Boilermaker Sundae, which is a Birthday Week tradition. Go to lunch with my parents if both of them can make it. Go back to Cincinnati.

October 19 (Friday)- Birthday Week closing ceremonies. Officially recognize that I am 26 years old.

Sounds like an awesome Birthday Week to me. If you'd like a birthday week of your own, I suggest the following. First, you need to have family, friends, and a spouse/significant other that will put up with your tyrannical egotism for a week. Luckily, I've been blessed to have such a family, spouse, and friends. Second, about five days before your birthday, start casually dropping into conversation or posting on your blog that your Birthday Week is approaching. Most people will go along with it. Finally, plan a special event every day of your Birthday Week. Start two days before your actual birthday and end four days after.

Update Shmupdate

Well, I suppose I ought to update. I don't have anything going on though. Everything is boring.

I met some of David's classmates last night. They are all very nice.

Last week our neighborhood had a Streetscapes Festival. Artists throughout the city drew famous works of art in sidewalk chalk on Telford street, which is about two streets down from us. The chalk was actually a special chalk mixed with linseed oil and soap. As a result, many of the pictures are still on the street to look at. One artist did a huge Pieta (The one by Bouguereau) right in the middle of the street. It was excellent. It's interesting to walk down Telford and see the Blessed Virgin holding Christ crucified in the middle of the street, but it works. This weekend, our neighborhood is hosting a microbrew festival. People can sample from over 60 small batch beers right in the heart of Clifton. We aren't going to that, but we are planning to go to an apple cider festival tomorrow. It's at Hidden Valley Fruit Farm. They'll have several kinds of cider, hayrides, and other apple/ fall related activities. The best part is that it's free.

Oh, tomorrow we're going to try a new curch. We've been going to this church in Northside called St. Boniface. Pretty funny considering that's the name of our parrish in Lafayette. Anyway, St. Boniface in Northside is one of the most beautiful chruches I've been to, and that includes all the churches in Rome and Florence. It doesn't have the same grandure as the Italian churches, but St. Boniface does have beautiful mosaics, stained glass, a marble canopy, and on and on. Well, the preists there are just so-so. They are the kind that don't make you say your act of contrition because they assume you were contrite before you got to confession. So tomorrow we'll go to Annunciation Catholic Church, which claims to be "the Catholic church in the heart of Clifton." It's about six blocks away from our apartment and we'll be able to walk there. I actually walked there on the feast of St. Francis to check it out. I would have passed by this building if it didn't say Annunciation Church on the front of it, and It's not because it looks like some new fangled modern church. In fact, it looks exactly like an ancient Greek temple complete with corinthian pillars. The church isn't as pretty at St. Boniface on the inside or the outside, but it still has its charms. It has a huge dome behind the altar and there is a mural of the Annunciation painted on it. Surrounding the painting of Gabriel and Mary are paintings of scores of saints. It has the tabernacle in the middle, and (be still my little heart) they have a communion rail!!!! I hope they use it. I guess we'll find out tomorrow. Most importantly, I hope the priests are solid.

Gold Tooth Guy

I came across a new saying a couple of days ago. I was walking behind two guys on Ludlow Ave, and I was shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. One guy was talking about how he used to be the best football player on his high school team. He was saying how he would do anything for the team and the team really counted on him to do whatever they needed. Then he said something that truly perplexed me. He said, "Man, I was the Gold Tooth Guy." What? What on earth could this possibly mean? He clearly said Gold Tooth Guy. His friend just nodded in recognition,so he must have known what it meant. Then I realized that this man meant that he was the Go To Guy on the team. Other phrases like this have changed in the past. A chest of drawers had now become Chester drawers. Some people have started calling Alzheimer's disease Old-timers disease. I'm sure we have all heard that it is a Doggy dog world instead of a dog eat dog world. But Gold Tooth Guy? This was really interesting to me and more than just a tad hilarious.

I've only had two linguistics classes in my life and I couldn't think of a term for what I had just heard. I raced home and told David, our resident linguist, the entire story. I then asked him what the term was for this kind of mispronunciation. David told me, "I don't know. That doesn't even sound like real linguistics. It sounds more like sociolinguistics." Great. A linguistics elitist. Anyhow, when I get home tonight (I'm at school right now) I'm going to look through my linguistics books to see if their is a more professional term for what I heard.

But something else came out of this discussion of Gold Tooth Guy Vs. Go To Guy. Apparently, I don't know what the term "Go To Guy" even means. I told David that it meant a person on the team who would "Go to it." He's the guy who does what the coaches ask of him no matter what. The Go To Guy is a hard worker. David found this about as hilarious as the original Good Tooth Guy discussion. He told me that, in fact, this is not what Go To Guy means. David says Go To Guy means that there is a person on the team that everyone "Goes to" in a clutch or important situation. We had a half hour long discussion about it. I'll admit that David has better evidence, but I've decided that I think it means both. What do you think? Also, if you have ever heard the expression Gold Tooth Guy or any other mispronunciation of a common phrase, leave a comment and tell me all about it.

CVS Psychic?

We live right across the street from a CVS. Most of you know my hatred for CVS. I worked at Osco for eight years. I didn't love, love, love the job, but it was really very little work. Most times I would go to work, hang out in the stock room talking to my supervisors, ignore calls for price checks, take a long break and call it a day. I'm sure most of you are getting a bad impression of my work ethic. I assure you that it is good, but only for non-corporate things. I'm not one to complain about "the man," but I'm really bad at memorising stupid corporate acronyms such as "P.R.I.D.E." and the like. I think "P.R.I.D.E" had something to do with customer service, but I can't remember. I'm also not good at smiling just because someone tells me to smile. Anyhow, after eight years, I actually formed a loyalty to Osco. I told myself that Osco was much better than Walgreen's and it was certainly better than those crappy CVS stores. I mean really, who the hell carpets a drug store? It's wrong.

Well, I quit when I got the job teaching Latin, and less than 6 months later, CVS bought out Osco. I was crushed. Any company that let me get away with so little work for eight years had my sympathy. I also felt guilt. Had I played a part in Osco's demise? Did I take one 45 minute break too many? And I was worried that CVS would try to screw over my aunt, who worked for Osco for 27 years and had loads saved up in retirement. CVS fired lots of people, including my favorite supervisor, but they did keep my aunt. But I've heard that they have awful employment practices and everyone is always in fear of being fired.

So it is hard for me to go into a CVS. But as I live in a big(ger) city now, I feel that I should walk to the places I can because I don't want to move my non-power steering truck and come back to wrestle this vehicle in between two Jettas.

Last night I needed quarters to do laundry, and I thought I would go to CVS to get them. David says there is a man who works Sunday nights there and he is really friendly. Not only that, but when David went to buy aluminum foil at CVS, this man guessed that he needed the foil for grilling. Without a word from David hinting at such. Weird. So I'm in CVS and I pick up a tube of toothpaste and take it up to this friendly guy. He rings up the toothpaste and I debit five dollars back. Without a word from me, he says, "Doing laundry? I can give that back to you in quarters." My jaw dropped. I said that that would be great. I could have wanted the five dollars for anything, but this man knew it was for laundry. It's not like he said "Oh toothpaste. You gonna brush your teeth?" Just like the foil, it was not obvious what I was going to do with this money.

So I've devised this plan to find out for sure whether this guy has some kind of extra sense. The next time I have indigestion, I'm going to go in and buy a box of baking soda. It works wonders on an upset stomach. My dad uses baking soda for any stomach ailment. If he'd ever get an ulcer he'd just drink some baking soda and water, and I half believe it would repair the ulcer. Well, there have been entire books written about the thousands of uses of baking soda. Will the man from CVS "guess" that I have indigestion, or will he kindly posit that I'm trying to clean the grout between my bathroom tile? Or will he just flat out tell me that he knows I'm running an experiment to see if he's psychic? I'll be sure to let you know.

I Came, I Saw, I Worked, I Quit

The job at the bagel place did not work out. I'm sure many of you are gearing up the parental phrase, "If you commit to something, you have to stick with it." So ground me. This job sucked in every way imaginable. I knew after two hours that I didn't want to work there, and I stuck with it for three days.

Here's what I thought working at a bagel shop would be like- Setting: A sleepy little corner bagel shop. A couple of old people would come in and ask me to make them a toasted bagel with some cream cheese. I'd smile and tell a funny anecdote while I poured a fresh cup of coffee for the both of them. Ten minutes later, another couple of people would drift in, and I would start the process over again. Well, this surely did not happen.

I was told on the day I started that this was the busiest Bruegger's Bagels in the country. I worried a little at that, but I asked myself, "How many people could possibly want to eat bagels?" A freaking lot! The "rush" at this store lasted from 9 am to 2pm. My shoe came untied at 9:30 and I did not have a chance to tie it until I clocked out to go home. Some people might be able to handle this pace, but I cannot. I don't think I'm lazy. I just can't handle the "bustle," as David calls it. And what does it mean that I can't handle the bustle? Does it mean I pout? No. Does it mean I get tired? No. Does it mean I want to yell curse words at the patrons? Well, sometimes. But mostly when I have to rush around for hours on end, it means I get panic attacks. So while I'm making some lady's $2.19 cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese, she doesn't know that I'm so hot I could pass out, my left arm is going numb, and I'm envisioning that my windpipe is closing up. So yeah, I get panic attacks from bagels. After two days of this, I started asking myself if panic attacks and constantly smelling like red onions were worth $7.25 an hour. I determined that they are not. I don't think I'm above that type of work. I don't think I'm better than anybody who does that work. I'm just not good at it. Perhaps if I was 16 and this was my first job I could stand it. But as it is, I hated it with a passion.

So on my second (and second to last day), I pulled the manager aside and told her that I hated working at the bagel place. My mom asked if I really used the work "hate" when I told the manager. Yeah, I did. Why beat around the bush? I told the manager I would finish out my schedule, which was only one more day, and then I would not be returning. She was frustrated but nice about it. I felt bad because they went through all the trouble to "train" me(i.e. show me videos from the 90's and then throw me into the fray). But I did hate it and didn't want to go back.

I'll start looking for another second job soon, but David says I don't have to if I don't want to.

Well, admonish me in a parental fashion if you must.

The Grindstone

I should most definitely be preparing for class that starts in an hour right now, but instead I want to write to my pals.

I got the job at the bagel place and I start tomorrow. I am promised 15-20 hours a week with no Sundays and two or three Saturdays a month off. I told the manager that I wanted to keep every other weekend completely free so I could come home frequently if I wanted. At the interview, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that I had the job, but that didn't stop me from being nervous. I was almost as nervous about this bagel job as I was about my interview for the college. I guess I'm just an equal opportunity worrier.

I got a chance to see how lonely I am getting at the interview. I haven't talked to anyone in Cincinnati but David for more than two sentences. So while I was being interviewed, I found myself wanting to elaborate on anything and everything just to talk to someone. I tried to cap myself off, but I'm sure I rambled a couple of times. Oh well, maybe they'll just think I'm friendly. The bagel place might be a good place to meet people, too. I don't really have a chance to talk to any of my co-workers at the college and I can't just strike up a casual conversation with my students outside of class. Having no friends will definitely lend itself work, work, work, and paying off debt. I guess there's an upside.

Oh, I did meet the chair of the English department yesterday. Again, I found myself wanting to ramble to him, but I kept it short. He's a pretty cool, young-ish, punk rock kind of a guy. As I was leaving his office, I saw that he had a Guided By Voices bumper sticker on the wall. I wanted to launch into a spiel about how they were one of my favorite bands, and how we should talk about music sometime, ect, but I didn't. Instead I just said, "You like Guided By Voices? Thumbs up." Then I walked off. I am soooooo cool.

My students are having a class discussion today about the essays we read. I really hope that these guys want to talk because I'm not good at prodding responses out of people. I assigned reading questions that specific people in class are personally responsible for answering during the discussion. I hope that facilitates discussion. Does anyone out there have any other suggestions for getting people to talk in class? I might not need it, but I want to be on the safe side. I can't remember my teachers employing any special methods, but I usually had my mind made up before class whether or not I was going to talk about anything we read the day before.

Well, I really should prepare now.

Assault Rifle for Debt

Okay, so I finally have regular internet that will let me sign in on blogger again. I just finished planning my first lesson, which I will introduce tomorrow. It is on the completely boring topic of prewriting. Hey, you gotta start somewhere. Wednesday was my real first day, but I just went over the syllabus and stuff like that. I was nervous, but i wasn't nearly as nervous as I thought I would be. I'm really liking work so far. CState buildings and campus reminds me more of a small four year college than a community college, but I only have Ivy Tech to compare. Actually, I thought Ivy Tech was a nice school, but it doesn't have anything on CState. All their classrooms are smart and easily workable and they have really awesome cafeterias and cafes on campus. Oh, this is cool. All the culinary arts majors have to take a class on pastry making. They don't do anything with all the pastries they make afterward so they just haul them to the cafe. So there are gourmet pastries available to everyone. This could be good or bad for me. Anyway, it seems like a really cool place. I still have no idea who my boss is or where the English adjuncts' office is, but I figure someone will tell me when they get angry that I didn't report somewhere or do something I was supposed to.

In other news, David has decided he wants to take a machine gun approach to our debt and gun it down all in one Ramboesque blaze of glory. What sparked this proposed debt massacre? Well, there's this talk radio station down here that has The Dave Ramsey Show on. David loves this guy. I think he's kind of a jerk who just gives people common sense advise.

Example: Person in debt: Hi Dave. Love the show. Listen, I've got 50,000 dollars in credit card debt, a $1200 a month mortgage, and three new cars. How do I get out of debt?

Dave Ramsey, Debt Management Guru: Wow, stupid isn't illegal, but it should be. Sell your house, sell your cars, cut up the credit cards, and get three jobs. If you do this, you can have your debt paid off in four years.

Person in debt: Gee, why didn't I think of that? Dave you're a genius.

Anyway, all of this means that David already has himself a second job and is on the lookout for another and now it is my turn. So, I have applied and gotten an interview for the glamorous world of Bruegger's Bagels. Basically, it's Einstein Bagels with a different name. It's located just down the street and I'll be able to walk to work if I get the job. I hope I'm qualified enough. I hope the manager doesn't google my name and see this post. Oh well if she does. I really do want the job. I'm hoping there will be some cool perk like free coffee.

That's pretty much it for now.

From Cinci

Greetings from The Queen City, The City of Seven Hills, The Blue Chip City, Cin Cin Naughty, The 'Nati, or my personal favorite, Porkopolis. We're in Cinci now and we are trying to work, move, and adjust to the city all at the same time. What I've seen of Cincinnati I like so far. Our street is even more eclectic than I first described. Everyone who lives, works, or shops on our street has multiple tattoos and looks like they belong to a band I'd listen to. I am definitely feeling uncool. Orientation at work yesterday long and unhelpful, as those things always are. I came to work today to get some unresolved issues out of the way. You know, little things like what time I teach, where I teach, who my boss is. Mostly everyone just looked at me like I was in the way and was worrying about nothing. So now I've annoyed everyone in my department. Awesome. The walk to work will be great exercise,and I'm actually happy about that. It's a little over a mile each way and it's uphill on the way back. Oh, and once I've walked my mile to work I still have 126 steps to climb before I get to the building. (Cincinnati is a very hilly town.) So I might not even have to join an exercise class. Though if I want to, there is a yoga studio connected to our apartment.

Basically everywhere I go I feel like the woman in the Visa commercial who tries to pay with cash. Everything is running like clockwork until I show up. Then I mess up the finely tuned routine everyone is in by asking for directions, getting in the wrong line for coffee, driving the wrong way down one way streets, etc. It will be nice once we are settled. We come back to Lafayette tonight in order to pack the moving truck tomorrow. We'll start packing the truck around 9:30 and leave, I hope, around 1:00. If you want to stop by during that time to say goodbye, please do. Although, I have to warn you that you might be contracted to move a box or two.

Panem et Circenses

After a couple of months of consideration, I've decided to change the name of my blog. I don't really write about anything too important on this blog, so "Panem et Circenses" seems fitting. Plus, I just like the sound of it. The quote comes from Juvenal:

nam qui dabat olim
imperium, fasces, legiones, omnia, nunc se
continet atque duas tantum res anxius optat,
panem et circenses.

Basically he's saying that Romans used to value their form of government and did their duties as citizens. But now everyone cares about just two things: bread and circuses. Since it's the title of my blog, I suppose I should really put it in nominative case, but "Panis et Circenses" doesn't have the same ring. Anyway, I'm going to keep the title on a trial basis to see how I like it. If I don't like it after a couple of weeks,(or if the fact that it's in the wrong case starts to bug me)I'll change it or go back to the old title. Feel free to tell me what you think of the new title! Does it have the ring of a person lording their worthless education over other people? One can only hope.

Thanks

Thanks to everyone who came out to our party last night. We had so much fun and were glad to properly say goodbye to so many of you. The party didn't officially end until 5:00 this morning when the last of the revelers pulled up a piece of floor in our living room and slept there. I, on the other hand, have not slept in 31 hours. After the party ended I had to switch over to Long Walk Matron and make breakfast for all the participants. This amounted to 5 dozen scrambled eggs (I went a little over board there), two packages of bacon, and two packages of hash browns. How is the Long Walk going? Well, I'll leave that to David, though I am planning a psychological deconstruction of the whole thing in a couple of days. Now I must prepare for my nephew's baby shower this evening.

Thanks again to everyone who came. It was a blast. Seeing all of you at once will certainly make it harder to leave, but it reminded us of how truly blessed we are to have so many wonderful friends.

On Tolerance

From the title of the post you might be thinking that I'll be lecturing people about accepting everyone as they are and cooperating to make this world a better place. You might especially assume this if you have been reading or participating in the recent debates on Anne's blog, where the topics of "craziness" and "big boy beds" have incited near riots. But I'm actually writing on something much more important. Alcohol.

When I was younger, say around 19-21, I could drink 8 beers and a couple of mixed drinks, fall asleep on somebody's kitchen floor with a sombrero on around 3:00 am, and wake up around 8:00 am and go for a jog. Perhaps it was because I was partying with a bunch of guys at an all guys school, but I felt like I had to keep up. And keep up I did. After the Wabash days, I furthered my drinking career by becoming the Irish Car Bomb drinking champ. This is a title I still hold today, and although I drink considerably less, I plan to defend it until death or pregnancy. Though it has a crude name, the concoction is quite a good if you imbibe it quickly enough. If you don't drink it quickly enough, it becomes a demon in a glass. This drink consists of a Guinness, a half shot of Irish whiskey and a half shot of Irish cream. When quaffed correctly it tastes like an alcoholic chocolate milkshake. When consumed incorrectly it tastes and looks like expired chocolate cottage cheese. Now, obviously, I've never seen myself drink one of these things, but I've heard I'm fast. I have, however, seen my biggest competition, Grant Freeman and my own cousin Matthew Arnett, drink one. I am amazed at the speed with which they drink, and if I can consistently beat them, then I must really have an amazing talent. Some people have genius IQs, some people can drink beer really fast. All talents are God-given, right? That's what I keep telling myself.

I have to insert at this point that after my college partying days, I never strove to "get drunk". This is a mortal sin and by the time I turned 22, I realized it. So if you drink and can't be drunk, how do you monitor yourself? There are many names for the point of non-drunkenness. I call it the "grey area". This is the large area between sober and drunkenness that you can rightfully stay in without shaming yourself. John Russell calls it the "point of hilarity". This is where you drink until you are in good spirits, but you stop once you are at that point.

Now I am at the ripe old age of almost 26, and I can count the times I have consumed more than one drink in a sitting on one hand, no maybe one ands a half hands, in the past year. I just don't like drinking all that much anymore. A statement like this would get my Catholic card revoked in many communities and parishes, so I have kept this a secret for a bit. I mean, what's the point of drinking? If I am only going to have one drink, then it just amounts to extra calories. If I have more then that, I risk drunkenness. Further, I say stupid things, embarrass myself, and trip over stuff daily. I don't need alcohol to help me do that anymore.

And with this revelation, my tolerance has taken a huge hit over the years. In fact, I had four drinks last night over the course of 6 or 7 hours. This morning I woke up convinced that a little man with a jackhammer had started a construction project on my skull. While trying to block out the pulse-like throbbing in my head, I reflected on my earlier days when last night's expedition would have been considered "pre-gaming" for the real party. This brought on equal parts of awe and horror.

I am so glad I don't drink like I did in college. It's funny to say it that way because I have only been out of college for three months. Perhaps I should say "early college". Alcohol has lots of empty calories, it is bad for organs(internal and musical. Don't ask.), and it usually makes me look like an even bigger idiot than I already am. And I say all of this knowing full well that I will drink, probably right up the the edge of the grey-black area, at the party tonight. See you there!

Party On. Excellent.

David and I have decided to throw a going away party.... for ourselves. Yes, we'll be the guests of honor and all of you out there reading are invited (that is if we know you).

We went to the store last night and bought burgers, chicken, steaks, soda, chips, beer, brownies, cookies, etc. There will be music and beanbag toss too. We want everyone to come, so spread the word to all who you think might like to wish us goodbye. Here's the vital information.

David and Monica's Going Away Party

Date- Friday, August 24th

Place- O'Neil Castle. Call or email if you need directions.

Time- Cookout starts at 5:00 so all you people with little ones can make it. At 8:30 we will take a couple of minutes to send off the Long Walkers. Party will resume around 8:45 or 9:00 sans Long Walkers.

We have all the main dishes, but if you'd like to bring a side that would be great.

We decided to have the going away party the same night as the Long Walk commencement because a bunch of our friends are going to be in town for that anyway. RSVP here on the blog, or call, or just come. But please do come. We want to see all of you one last time.

Packing

Well, we started packing today. All I have to say is that we have WAAAAAAAAAAY too many books. Doesn't sound possible, does it? It's true. I brought an entire truck bed full of boxes home today, and all but the very biggest boxes have been filled to the brim with books. I can't imagine what it's like when professors have to move.

What's in a Name?

Ol' Shakesy asked the above question in Romeo and Juliet, and I've been thinking about names, specifically naming children, since Laura posted last week on the name Lawrence. You see, I have scores of great names picked out for our future children. I want to name my children after early saints and classical and literary figures. But whenever I let slip a name I'm contemplating, the same trite argument rears its head. This argument is known as The Infallible Playground Doctrine set forth by the Senate of Concerned Grandparents, Nosy Friends, and Boring Aunts in 1895. The argument can be summed up as the following: "You can't name your child that!!! He'll be made fun of and be beaten up on the playground for sure." And from this argument, many great names have been shot down in favor of more normal or common names. I'm here today to write against the above doctrine and promote a new one. This new argument is called They Are My Kids and I am Going to Name Them Whatever The Hell I Want, So Shut Up. I have three basic arguments against the Playground Doctrine.

1. They are my kids and I am going to name them whatever the hell I want, so shut up.
If my husband and I agree to name our first son Xenophanes Hezekiah Milkbone BB Gun Josephus Snowglobe O'Neil, that's what we're going to name him. Why? Because it's our baby, we made him, and we're going to name him. I must say that I have no problem with common names. In fact, I like a lot of them. I love the names John, Michael, David, etc. And I am not going to purposely give my child an uncommon name just for the sake of it being uncommon. But if I find myself drawn to an uncommon name, I'm not going to be detracted by some old lady.

2. EVERYONE IS MADE FUN OF ON THE PLAYGROUND. EVERYONE.
Let's do a little informal poll. How many of you were ever made fun of on the playground? I'm guessing 100%. Now, how many of you were made fun of on the playground for something other than your name? I'm guessing close to 100%. From this we can deduce that giving your child a common name will not prevent him or her from being made fun of on the playground. My children are going to have red hair, pale skin, little knowledge of pop culture, and possibly 700 food allergies. If they are made fun of for their name only, it would be a massive blessing. I mean, children are made fun of for coming to school with dried up snot rivers mixed with dirt running down their faces, and yet parents still send them to school that way. Kids are made fun of for weighing 300 pounds in the 2nd grade, and yet parents still send them to school that way. So what, in God's name, is wrong with sending your kid to school with a name like Aloysius? And yet the parents of the 300 pound 2nd grader with snot rivers are the people telling me that I just can't name my kid Augustine Leonidas O'Neil. Well, I can and I will.

3. An odd name with personal meaning and importance is preferable to a common or popular one without.
Go to the mall and yell out the name Dakota. See how many children turn their heads. If it's less than 4,000 I'd be surprised. Now yell out the name Augustine. If one kid turns his head I would be equally surprised. Perhaps all 4,000 children were named Dakota because their parents were inspired by that part of the country. That's fine, but I am not inspired by that part of the country. At least, not enough to name my kid that. Maybe my cat. Nah, I wouldn't even name my cat that. The point is that the name should mean something to the parents and they should pass that meaning on to their child.

Finally, I've known lots of people with odd names, and as far as I know none of them died of shame one the playground. These names include Leaf, Patience, Song, Glade, Prentice, and so on. When contemplating the names of your children, disregard the playground argument, and whatever you do, don't regurgitate it.