Dirty Catholic

Bloggie-versary

Wee-Hoo! Dirty Catholic is two years old today!

So that means I can go (almost) two whole years before feeling comfortable enough with one thing before starting an new thing.

The question that remains is, shall I do NoBloPoMo in November, as is customary, and if so, for which?

May I Introduce You To...

...My latest project?

It's a new blog called, "Just Practicing."  (www.JustPracticing.net)

I've been wanting to do this for a while and the part-time downgrade at my old parish, some interesting reading, and the encouragement of my friends and family inspired me to get going.

Don't worry, Dirty Catholic will still be active. Just think of this as a second place to check.

Thanks for reading and blessings to you all!

Overheard at the Track

"I come here everyday at 5pm and run until the sun sets. And I don't know if I'm getting stronger or what, but each day it seems to go by faster and faster. It's almost as if the sun is setting earlier!"

Dual Vocations

In honor of Independence Day, I would like to offer these examples of priests with a healthy sensse of Ignatian independence from the typical vocation:

The Fashion-Designer Priest

The Baker Priest

The Rapper Priest, East Coast

The Rapper Priest, West Coast (that picture is just begging for an Ironic Catholic Caption Contest)

Do you know of any hypen-priests that deserve our attention?

Productivity Report

Yesterday I did some work for the parish (need a bilingual Mass setting? I can now direct you to every single one in existence), tidied up the house, started the laundry, went grocery shopping, made muffins and organic rice krispie treats for Mr. Man's lunches, cooked Chicken Tikka Masala with my sister for dinner, bought and began some subversive cross-stitch, and watched the entire 6 hours of the BBC's Pride and Prejudice.

Today I slept in until 2pm.

I can only be so productive, it seems.

Party Like A Grandma

Mr. Man & I went to a wedding in the Oakland hills on Friday night, where we got to hang out with some old friends and enjoy the unusually warm evening. I was from the "Graduate school" contingent of the bride's friends, a group that is particularly fond of drinking and dancing. I love going to weddings with this group because we are usually the first ones on -and the last ones off- the dance floor.

But my friends, this time we were sadly outdone. The groom's aunt, a 75-year-old grandma, was our dancing queen. She danced indiscriminately, some would say promiscuously, with everyone there. She goaded reluctant men from their chairs for a boogie, freely broke in on couples to share a salsa dance, danced with old and young, men and women, the talented and the rhythmically challenged.

I left that night hoping that I could one day learn to be as free, friendly, and joyous as she was. I left hoping that I could learn to party like a grandma.

(Can you spot her?)

Delinquent

What?

I've been busy...doing stuff. You know, like turning my backyard into a pub and trouncing my husband at darts. And experimenting in what types a foods a chicken will eat. (Blueberries? Yes. Hamburger bun? No. Though lately they seem most interested when I'm eating chicken... freaky little cannibals.)

This weekend we had a Father's Day for the Delinquent party to which we invited the childless, those too lazy to visit their fathers, those who's fathers are with the heavenly father, and those whose fathers are too appaling to deserve a Father's Day. Most of our guests, like ourselves, fell primarily into the "too lazy" category. I did manage to send my father a card, however. ("DC," my mom said in a voicemail, "I wasn't at all upset that you didn't send me a Mother's Day card," she lied unconvincingly, "But I think your father would really appreciate a card for Father's Day.")  My father is generally a great guy and in fact was a major help in the backyard pub project, drilling brazenly into the neighbor's cinderblock fence to hang the dartboard, but somehow I have a hard time imagining that a guy who would take his wife to the hallmark store to show her the cards he could buy her - instead of actually buying one for her - would invest a lot of emotional energy into whether or not his daughter sent a Father's Day card.

In other news, the family that my sister and I have worked for ages (as nannies) took advantage of the great state of California's recent decision and got married yesterday. Their kids were adorably excited, but it was unclear if it was because of the wedding or the fact that after the wedding, they got to drink soda.

Today friends from graduate school get into town for another wedding this weekend (of my friend and the occasional commenter, "Mo") so I'm off to clean the house and make sure the chickens don't take the Vespa for another joy-ride.

Yes, it's a fabulously exciting life, I know.

Fashion Disaster, That's Me

Apparently my fashion sense has been in decline for a while now. I date it back to over a year ago when the idea of getting pregnant "soon" encouraged an unwise number of empire-waisted and boxy-shirt purchases.
Once I decided to stop living my life in anticipation of pregnancy (ah the freedom of living like a clueless teenager!) my clothing purchases failed to reflect that change.  And people started to make comments.

My sister, Katie, said, "You used to dress so cute! You inspired me to dress better! But now...."
My husband asked, "Why do you dress like an old lady?"
The final straw was when my other sister AJ told me, "You are no longer allowed to go shopping without supervision."

Well fine, then.

This weekend while waiting to meet up with some friends in the city, Mr. Man & I dropped into a shop in the embarcadero just to look. Actually, my plan was to try on whatever Mr. Man brought me in order to show him that all the clothes he likes simply do not look good on my body. (Denim miniskirts and tank-tops? Nothankyou.)

Instead, we left with three (3!) new dresses. Who is this man buying me clothes, and what did he do with my husband? (Not that I want to find my old husband, I just want to make sure he's tied up securely and that I can keep the new guy.)

So the good news is that I have something to wear to this weekend's gauntlet of school play, baccalaureate, graduation, rehearsal dinner, and wedding, but the bad news is that I'm feeling guilty about keeping all three dresses.

Whaddaya think? Which should I return?

 

Covet

It seems I'm making it through the whole spectrum of Deadly Sins this week. Yesterday was anger. Today we're on Greed.

But Oh. MY. Word.

(What, you don't want green parrot lamps in your living room? Good. More for me!)

I've had window open all week to the etsy.com  site that is selling these  lamps. When I am bored I look at them and think about what I would name them. I'd link to the page now, but I don't want you to buy them. Even though they are a little too expensive for me.  (But I LOVE them!)

Fine. I'll link, but you have to promise not to buy them. Just look. Here.   

But don't buy them. They are MINE!

(And let's not tell Mr. Man about this chat, okay?)

Next, Catholics Ordain Women!

Jews Lifted the Ban on Ham!