Memory, that winged host that flew above me

Have you heard about the book club Hayley at Carrots for Michaelmas is hosting about Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited? I'm thrilled because Brideshead  is my favorite book. Ever since it was on my summer reading list senior year of high school, I've re-read it about once a year. On every return visit I've changed a little, and so I notice or enjoy new things. The notes my 17 year old self feverishly made in multi-colored pencil seem a little silly today.

Brideshead Revisted is a great novel becaue its decades-long story has something for everyone. Carefree college antics, coming-of-age angst, love affairs, guilt, religious identity, family drama, the place of Catholics in English society, and some great papist insider jokes. There a so many different facets to ponder, and I've added a page to this blog tracking some of my favorite recent commentary on it.

For me, BR continues to be an obsession because it's all about decorative arts, yo. Architecture and home furnishings are practically the star of the show. Like the Flyte family in Charles' life, BR passages kept popping into my head when I started my master's program at a "museum and country estate."

"Is the dome by Inigo Jones too? It looks later."
"Oh Charles, don't be such a tourist. What does it matter when it was built, if it's pretty?"
"It's the sort of thing I like to know."

All the descriptions of the Flyte family house make so much more sense now. On my first visit to Winterthur, I scoffed at its seemingly redundant acres of antique furniture. Gradually, as I learned to guide tourists through the corridors, I discovered the joy of paying close visual attention to the things around me. After all, historical context is the sort of thing I like to know too.

It was an aesthetic education to live within those walls, to wander from room to room, from the Soanesque library to the Chinese drawing-room, adazzle with gilt pagodas and nodding mandarins, painted paper and Chippendale fret-work, from the Pompeian parlor ... to sit, hour after hour, in the pillared shade looking out over the terrace.

The Chinese Parlor at Winterthur, full of painted paper and Chippendale fret-work.

Even though Charles Ryder is a total jerk sometimes, I do identify with his artistic journey. Eventually shedding his lazy undergrad ways, he soaks up all the art around him, tries his first big painting project, and eventually makes a career out of documenting historic architecture. As the existential trauma that is grad school fades, I tend to remember fondly my two years "in arcadia": with unlimited access to an eight-story mansion.

Most of the time I use my "looking at furniture" master's degree to make obnoxious comments about the background in Downton Abbey scenes (oh man, that William and Mary high chest in Mrs. Crawley's parlor), but I'm still obsessed with photographing architecture. Like Charles, I feel closer to the big truths in life when I'm pondering beautiful things. 

Marriage and the Cross - Hype vs. Reality

In case you missed it, the latest Catholic blogosphere kerfuffle is over how we talk about marriage. It all started with Emma Smith's well-meaning post "Marriage is Hard Work," in which she sadly reflected on some divorcing co-workers who felt like marriage was all up to luck. Then she stated "with complete confidence my spouse will never cheat on me ...because I have a faith and a God who stand behind me in that statement. And I can say that because the love my fiancé and I share is not human, it is divine."

To which some married women said "Are you kidding me? That is not real life." Then other women chided the critics for being mean to youthful idealism. Who is right? I suppose everyone is, in some way. Yes, Christian marriage requires hard work and God's grace, not luck. Yes, we shouldn't become the  "Oh just wait ..." Debbie Downers who pounce on optimism. But no, sacraments don't come with guarantees of future behavior. For better or worse, we still have free will.

A few years ago I went to a college friend's wedding officiated by our wise campus chaplain, who has overseen dozens of alumni marriages and never was one for sugar coated homilies. In his sermon, he literally looked at the couple and told them "This is the hardest work you will ever do." They are no longer together. Likewise I know couples who may have started out in less-than-sacramental circumstances, but grew closer to Christ and have built solid Catholic families. That's reality for you.

Catholics can be so eager to promote the goodness of marriage to a commitment-shy culture that we become an hype machine. I like to call this "OMGJPIITOB!!!1!" syndrome. Civilization of Love! Culture of Life! Save sex for marriage and you can help save the world. Obedience to the Magisterium will result in a blissful love life. All those other people shacking up are just miserable, but you won't be!

This idealistic hyperbole can make us sound like the caste system in Brave New World. "I'm so glad I'm not a Beta. The Betas just use and objectify each other. The lecherous men run off and leave the women "fat, bitter, and depressed" cougars." This casts human relationships in extremes - either doomed total depravity or divinely assured uprightness. Reality is far more complicated than that.

When I was engaged, I approached marriage with naive optimism but also fears of unworthiness. Would God zap me with lightning at the altar because I hadn't "discerned" enough? Would I let my parish down somehow and become a statistic about The Culture? I conflated my wedding with the final exam of being a Nice Catholic Girl. "Happily ever after" would be my diploma reward for graduating with no chastity demerits. Better obsess about my NFP charting and cram more Fulton Sheen essays! In the last stressful throes of wedding planning, I blurted out "I just wish the bishop would give me a dang gold star or something!"

Well guess what? Marriage isn't a fairy tale  that rewards the good - it's an agreement to carry the cross together.  In our very first week as spouses there were disagreements and disappointments and illness. Idealism quickly collided with reality. At first, it felt like God had snuck up and dumped  bucket of cold water on my head. We followed all the rules; this wasn't part of the bargain!

Here's the reality: the sacrament of marriage isn't a guarantee nor is it a prize. Like Baptism and Confirmation, it's an undeserved invitation to grace/ When we receive it, we're embarking on a journey towards holiness. We can either be disillusioned at our own weakness or throw ourselves onto God's mercy, because only He can make us stronger, better. Even though the Southern Baron and I are soul mates in many ways, our love is still very, very human. Meshing our lives together has put a magnifying glass on our weaknesses. Who knew there were so many ways we could hurt or misunderstand each other? I can't predict what flaws and differences will bubble to the surface during future challenges.

Every day, I must choose to love my husband unconditionally, the way God loves him. I must choose to accept God's love and grace too. When my relationship with one of them suffers, so does the other. At the same time, I'm deeply humbled that my spouse offers me unconditional love too. As that same wise priest said in a different wedding homily, a husband and wife don't "deserve" each other, their unique combination of sins and virtues. They don't "deserve" God's love and grace either - but He offers it anyway, every day.

NFP Subculture: Don't Punish the Obedient

"I wish I liked Catholics more."
"They seem just like other people."
"My dear Charles, that's exactly what they're not--particularly in this country, where they're so few. It's not just that they're a clique--as a matter of fact, they're about four cliques all blackguarding each other half the time--but they've got an entirely different outlook on life; everything they think important is different from other people. They try and hide it as much as they can, but it comes out all the time."
- Brideshead Revisited Book I, Chapter 4

Last week John Zmirak at The Catholic Thing posted a stunningly fed-up rant about "the weirdness, bitterness, crankiness, and the general mediocrity that pervade the Catholic subculture," and how those negative aspects hinder evangelization, especially about Church doctrine on contraception. The Catholic population that actually believes and follows the Church's disapproval of artificial birth control is relatively tiny, and thus "as inbred as a pack of captive cheetahs, with all the dangers of deformity and disease that that implies."

Zmirak warns that "The Church as righteous subculture is unappealing to nearly everyone – including the kids who grow up inside it, who despite all those years of homeschooling and chapel veils frequently flee for what look like saner pastures ... We need to listen to [the secular world's] real questions and objections and do a much better job explaining ourselves. Or else that’s who we’ll go right on talking to – ourselves."

(*Edit: When I included this snarky soundbite, my intention was not to condemn the "homeschooling and chapel veils" set among whom I grew up and greatly respect. I seriously doubt the homeschooler apostasy rate is as high as Zmirak suggests. But I have also seen that no one pious practice is a magic bullet for sanctity and that intelligent young people indeed can be disillusioned by a lack of self-awareness in some traditional Catholic circles.)

It's true; self-righteous dismissal and distrust of Others isn't going to win any converts. It also endangers the few devout believers who do hold fast to beleaguered truths of the faith. Even if you are among the remnant that actually shuns contraception, there plenty of your compatriots ready to warn that you might be Doing It Wrong. Internet discussions about Natural Family Planning and childbearing are notoriously contentious. "Perfect love casts out fear," (1 John 4:18) but there is plenty of "bitterness, crankiness," infighting, and fearmongering in the NFP subculture. Look at any recent article about the morality and ethics of NFP, and you'll see several cliques all blackguarding each other:

• Dire conspiracy theorists sure most people's reasons for postponing pregnancy aren't good enough 
• Harried parents paranoid that they should be pregnant again or that they discerned poorly
• Rival method loyalists engaged in combox brawls
• Theologians insensitive to the emotional responses their coldly logical syllogisms elicit
• Infertility martyrs who shame anyone with "lesser" sufferings for complaining
• Glib spouters of the conventional wisdom that anyone struggling with NFP must be lazy and/or selfish, lustful, lacking in faith, or resisting God's will 

Is this really the alternative we want to offer the secular world? Instead of getting free birth control pills, you can be part of a tiny subculture that bickers about the minutiae of bodily functions and acts as the pregnancy thought police! Doesn't that sound life-giving and awesome? 

My own NFP experience has taught me how toxic fertility scrupulosity can be. Although I've been on board with NFP since I was a teenager, actually using it in my marriage has been a huge test of my faith. I had naively thought that obsessive charting would exempt me from those "lazy" user problems, but in reality the learning curve was steep. In our first months as newlyweds we dealt with much confusion, frustration, and loneliness. Had Theology of the Body cruelly duped us? Irregular charts made my body feel like an enemy and drove me into neurotic data tracking. I worried that God must be punishing us for some secret transgression and that I had failed as a wife. When I mentioned my spiritual conflict in confession, one priest told me this was none of his business and hinted I should just use birth control anyway. 

In reality, our problems were simply practical. Three methods, several hundred dollars of classes, and one minor surgery later, it's finally getting better. I now know what kind of charting works best for my personality and my body's habits. What helped me get through this difficult time was compassion from Catholic friends who acknowledged my suffering. Even if their own NFP stories were different, they trusted my judgement and encouraged me to persevere. I'm eternally grateful to the kind Franciscan confessor  in neon blue Crocs who told me "Yeah, this NFP stuff can be hard. Most priests have no clue."

I also appreciate the conversation Simcha Fisher has started with her hilarious and insightful book The Sinner's Guide to Natural Family Planning. She reminds readers that coming to terms with one's fertility requires spiritual growth, but that doesn't mean the NFP crowd should feel "judged and judgey." Only God can analyze fully a couple's hearts and childbearing decisions. Since Simcha's book came out, it's been heartening to see many other Catholic bloggers reveal their own NFP struggles and concur that there is no one-size-fits-all solution.

The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. (Mark 2:27) It's senseless to be Pharisaical towards Catholics who sincerely believe and practice all the Church's teachings. It's illogical to tell people that following the rules with an imperfect mindset is just as grave a sin as breaking them altogether. If orthodox Catholics are a clique that suspects the worst of its own members, why would anyone in their right mind want to sit with us? 

How Not to Talk About Underemployed People

There's been a lot of backlash to the Obama campaign's "The Life of Julia." This slick little slideshow shows a woman going through life relying on government funding, even though mean ol' Mitt Romney wants to rip those benefits from her hands. Like all campaign literature, it oversimplifies things and sounds slightly condescending.

One recent response to it really burned me up, though. Sure, I agree with "The Life of Emily" as a rebuttal of government paternalism. I bet if I met the author, Emily Stimpson, in person, we'd have a lot in common. Her story of success as a professional young woman is inspiring. Making it as a free-lance writer is hard, and she's totally convinced me to open a health savings account.

But her tales of job success hit too close to home for me. It felt like the name-dropping and insensitive boasting of a smug class valedictorian. Sure, she's smart and diligent, but she also got many lucky breaks. One of those was being born 7 years before I was. Right now, there aren't enough merit scholarships and entry-level jobs to go around for even the hard-studying A-students. This sentence in particular burned: "It would never occur to her to still be on her parents’ plan, even if she could. After all, she’s 26—an adult." Well yahoo. I guess that makes me an infant.

Via Economic Policy Institute

To top it off, Emily's readers decided that I and other underemployed people who commented were whiny morons lacking American values. Their kids could pay for insurance straight out of school, what's wrong with us? "A master's degree does not entitle you to a job with benefits," scolded one person. He implied I should have gone to trade school instead. The flurry of "dislikes" felt like a spit in the face. These pharisees pointed at me, the 27-year old living with her parents, and said "I thank you, O Lord, that I am not like that."

I know, I'm talking about internet comments from strangers here. It doesn't really matter. But this was on a Catholic website. For the first time, I felt attacked personally by my own kind. I couldn't believe the ignorance and lack of compassion.


The "American Dream" is not in the Apostles' Creed, people. Our economy is in flux right now - a college degree doesn't ensure a job anymore. People are relying on their parents for longer into adulthood. The recession is not over. Who knows what career path advice kids will get in five or ten years.

If I were to write "The Life of Sarah," it would read like Emily's, but with more ups and downs. Mine is just one story, and I know there are many people worse off than I. But I am an example of how fortunes can unexpectedly change, and how hard work and good grades don't always win you success. My odyssey into adulthood also shows how sometimes, you need a helping hand.

I went to a state university for the lower tuition, taking out loans and working part-time jobs. At age 20 I contracted a chronic circulatory condition and had to take a year of leave from school. For the next 5 years, this "pre-existing condition" would prevent me from getting coverage outside of my parents' insurance plan. If I didn't have insurance, I couldn't get the medication I needed to function. So yes, I relied on my parents into adulthood.

At age 23 I spent a year with the Vincentian Service Corps in St. Louis. There I saw firsthand how government aid could help some people, like the mom of 5 who used housing assistance money to move away from her abusive meth-addict husband. I also saw the heavy costs of family decline and sexual irresponsibility. I learned how some people just wanted a handout, but all the money in the world couldn't replace the value of caring, challenging mentors. All this time I made $300 a month, so obviously I wasn't building a nest egg. It was worth it.

Source

At age 25 I was in a competitive master's program that provided a tuition fellowship and stipend. I could not have afforded grad school any other way. When my Dad lost his job, I emptied my "wedding dress slush fund" savings into COBRA fees to extend my insurance coverage. A generous gift from a relative helped me pay these fees and buy a very sensible, very used car. My cardiologist declared me mostly free of symptoms, and so I could finally purchase basic insurance through my university.

At age 26 I got my master's, but not a job like most of my classmates. I moved back in with my parents and worked odd jobs all summer. In a stroke of luck I got an entry-level temp job, replacing an accounting department's college intern. My hourly wage job allows me to pay for my insurance, as well as out-of-pocket treatments for a back injury.

Now at age 27 I know I must help pay for my wedding, but have no idea where I'll be working in a month. A lot of my peers save money by shacking up with significant others, but obviously we won't do that. I'm determined to have Depression-era pluck, looking for whatever gigs I can find. Substitute teaching? Museum volunteering? A temp agency? I'm also going for the novena mother-load, the 54-day rosary. My path is not what I envisioned at age 20, and I do not wish it for my younger siblings. But I refuse to condemn myself for circumstances in some part beyond my control.

So if you want to talk to the Kids Today about their jobs, realize that it's always more complicated than it looks. Here are a few tips.

• Don't conflate individuals with economic trends. Should we have a national conversation about how college is overpriced and maybe not worth it for everyone? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean you should point at a deep-thinking liberal arts major and tell him he should have been a mechanic instead. Don't grill him about whether it's time to "give up" on his field. 
• Read this recent piece about the surprising number of PhDs on public assistance.  Realize that not everyone on food stamps is a welfare queen - sometimes ambitious, intelligent people turn to welfare as a last resort. 
• Don't tell a recent grad "Oh, but aren't there lots of companies in your field where you live?" Yes, we know, as does everyone else with our degree. This is like telling a single woman "Oh, but there are lots of cute guys in your area. Have you tried going to bars?"
• Don't yap about how you or your kids or cousin or brother was a wild success right out of school. 
• Do refer underemployed young adults to job openings or to people who might be good professional connections. Whom you know matters, more than ever. 
• Do offer practical interview advice based on your own experience. Express sympathy when they get turned down after an interview. Assure them that they are just as capable as their peers; that a lot of this is mysterious luck.
• Do cheer them on with small successes, like part-time retail jobs. Don't lecture them about counting their blessings. They know. 
• Do tell them about sales on professional wear at the local outlet mall. 
• Do offer to pray for them. Only God knows how we'll get out of this recession mess. 

Any other job-seekers reading this? What would you add to my list? 

Mormonpalooza Part 2: Housewife Blogs and Evangelization Envy

The past few years have seen the rise of the hip Mormon mommy/housewife blog phenomenon. There seems to be an endless network of them, and good gravy are they popular. Thousands of followers, dozens of sponsors, weekly giveaways popular. Personally, I am hooked on The Daybook, Nat the Fat Rat (Happiness Curator! Lover of Anne of Green Gables!), Rockstar Diaries, and Mormon in Manhattan to name a few.

The stinkin' cute Sydney and Tyson of The Daybook. 

In Salon this January, highly educated journalist Emily Matchar asked the question on many young women's minds (including mine): “Why can’t I stop reading Mormon housewife blogs?” She concluded that, unlike the uber-intense mommy blogosphere, these ladies make marriage and motherhood look like fun adventures.  At VirtuousPla.Net, Julie Rodrigues recently observed that these blogs "give beauty slowly," countering the modern obsession with instant gratification. Jen Fulweiler chimed in that it’s the inherent female nurturing, giving instinct that makes PhD candidates pore over posts about recipes and decorating.

I agree with all these women, and very much identify with Matchar and her friends. Reading cookbooks and stalking other people’s domestic bliss were my main coping techniques while thesis writing. It was a world so comforting, and yet slightly exotic compared to the library stacks.

There's been some discussion in the Catholic blogsphere about what an effective evangelization force these Mormon bloggers are. Such artsy diaries make show that we church-going folk are happy, creative, and normal.  These women blend modernity with faith seemingly effortlessly. They are in the world but not quite of it, often more subtly than we Catholics seem to be. But before we go running out to create knock-off hipster Catholic blogs, there are some key points to consider.

Mormon housewife blogs are up-to-the-minute trendy. 
These women use Instagram, sell handmade accessories on Etsy and dish about makeup trends.  Their trendiness seems authentic, not self-consciously commercial. When readers ask, "What makes Mormons so cool?, they reply that they just look for beauty in everything, and that includes Forever 21.

These blogs are written for a wide general audience – lifestyle first, LDS a distant second.
 “Just frolicking in the city, pushing this stroller in my hipster glasses and red lipstick. Have you tried that new burger place across town? Oh and I’m excited about General Conference and hosting some missionaries for dinner on Sunday.”

via ClothedMuch.com

Similarly, clothing discussions are about fashion, not just modesty. 
You'll never see these stylish girls in tank tops or short skirts, but they don't feel the need to tell you that constantly. Their posts are all "Hey, look at these cute blouses! I found the sweetest necklace on sale!"

I once told my parish priest that he should give up his pipe dreams of a modest clothing line, because the Mormons have that locked down. Three words: Shabby Apple dresses.

By far the expert Mormon fashion blogger is LA-dweller Elaine Hearn at Clothed Much. Her blogroll of Mormon fashion bloggers is comprehensive, and her use of items from both department and thrift stores is brilliant. With nary an ankle length jumper in sight.

They offer artistic quality and positivity, not preaching to the choir
Mormon bloggers' layouts are uncluttered and their photos use natural light, not garish flash. They write about what is good in life, instead of just clutching their pearls about THE CULTURE.

There is a time and place for hashing out the minutiae of theology and liturgy, and then there are times to be more approachable. Endless debates about NFP and homeschooling get tiresome, as does the millionth mediocre rehash of Theology of the Body. This is where Mormon bloggers enchant and inspire me in a way Catholic mommy blogs often do not. It's refreshing to see something practical and beautiful, not just hand-wringing about immorality on TV.

Who cares what horrendous things the kids on Jersey Shore are wearing; what would be a good outfit for work tomorrow? How could I still unleash my creative side once I am chasing after little ones? How do I relate to my secular colleagues? More importantly, how could Catholic life be relevant to them? Women like Sydney and Elaine give me hope that I can participate in modern society but also stay true to my beliefs.

Via The Rockstar Diaries

This is where I as a Catholic blogger/cultural historian do some serious pondering. 
Do we blog to evangelize or to talk amongst ourselves? Should Catholic young women write with our theology more "undercover"? Personally, I love the like-minded community of spiritual support I have found through blogging. Should I put my money where my mouth is and switch to posting recipes and daily outfit photos? Or would that be watering down my faith?

Do any Catholic lifestyle blogs with a large secular following already exist?  Do you think Catholic women should embrace a new online evangelization strategy? What do you think?

Epic Intercession: Now with 50% more novenas!

Earlier this month I raved about the blog Pray More Novenas and how its email reminders got me through all nine days with St. Therese. Starting today, I am back on the novena bandwagon, joining over 5,000 Catholics to pray the St. Jude Novena, leading up to St. Jude's feast day on October 28.

 Do you have any ‘impossible causes’ to pray for? St. Jude is the patron saint of the impossible, and his intercession has helped people through tough times for centuries. On a personal level, I have some good friends who are particularly grateful to St. Jude, so I feel like he would be a good saint to get acquainted with. You can sign up for handy email reminders to get the the novena prayers here: St. Jude Novena

Evelyn Waugh blog alert!

As I have mentioned on this blog before, I like Evelyn Waugh's writing. A lot. A crotchety, snarky English convert to Catholicism, he alternates between withering criticism of modern society and flowery episodes of spellbinding beauty. 


I'm always excited to find Waugh devotees online - there are even some other blogs with Brideshead Revisited as their namesake! 


The Black Cordelias ( "Send five bob and ask your friends to do the same.")  cites young Cordelia's hilarious enthusiasm for sponsoring babies in the foreign missions. Kudos to this blog's group of authors for finding such adorable pictures of kids in nun costumes.


Sacred Monkeys of the Vatican is a lovely collection of "The Strange, the Random, and the Beautiful." Its author gets a million bonus points for mentioning Cordelia's pranking of half-hearted convert Rex Mottram. That poor unsuspecting Canadian. Teenage little sisters make the worst RCIA instructors.


Earlier this week Why I am A Catholic posted about the convert's prayer in Helena, one of Waugh's loveliest but more obscure works. In that passage, recently-baptized St. Helen prays to the Magi, reflecting on how she and they were late-arriving pilgrims. 


Another of my favorite passages in Helena is her exchange with the peddler who helps her locate the true Cross. (There are some unfortunate twinges of "wandering Jew" anti-Semitism in that character, but that's another story.) Their discussion of relics and kitsch is so marvelously full of material culture. (Emphasis mine.)

"'How I see it, this new religion of the Galilean may be in for quite a run. A religion starts, no one knows how. Soon, you get holy men and holy places springing up everywhere, old shrines change their names, there's apparitions and pilgrimages. There'll be ladies wanting other things besides the cross. All one wants is to get the thing started properly. One wants a few genuine relics in thoroughly respectable hands. Then everyone else will follow. There won't be enough genuine stuff to meet the demand. That will be my turn. I shall get paid. I wouldn't take anything from you now, lady. Glad to see you have the cross. It won't cost you a thing.' 

Helena listened and in her mind saw, clear as all else on that brilliant timeless morning, what was in store. She saw the sanctuaries of Christendom become a fair ground, stalls hung with beads and medals, substances yet unknown pressed into sacred emblems; heard a chatter of haggling in tongues yet unspoken. She saw the treasuries of the Church filled with forgeries and impostures. She saw Christians fighting and stealing to get possession of trash. She saw all this, considered it and said:'It's a stiff price'; and then: 'Show me the cross.'"

Excessive materialism is the ironic flipside of a faith steeped in sensory beauty and physical reminders of the divine. If there are beautiful cathedrals, there can also be glow-in-the-dark Jesus ashtrays, crusaders bickering over bones of saints, and near hoarder-levels of holy card collecting. But is tangible connection to God worth with risk? Oh yeah. 

Ten Facts about Me and The Beau

Betty Beguiles has this fun feature "about me and my better half" going on her blog, so I though I'd join in. Here are some fun facts about me and The Beau, who's really been deserving a better explanation for a while.

1. He's a New Orleans native, I'm a Virginian. So how did we end up long-distance dating in the northeast? Grad school and the OK Cupid dating website. 
2. He got my attention in his first email message by asking if I'd seen the new Sense and Sensibility adaptation. (He later admitted this was a calculated move.) Then I got his attention by agreeing that William III and Mary II totally stole the English throne from her Catholic father James II. Thus a history nerd romance was born. 
3. Our first date was on the feast of the Assumption, August 15, 2009. Meeting for coffee and dinner turned into six hours of conversation before he finally drove back to New Jersey. 
4. His blog nickname comes from the brief period before we were "Facebook official" and I needed some way to describe "That guy who drove 2 hours to meet me at Brew-Ha-Ha" to my classmates. "The Beau" seemed appropriately olde timey. 
5. We both love photography, so many of our early dates involved taking pictures in parks and on my museum grounds. Then my DSLR broke and school got crazy, so we need to get back into that.
6. Before we met he didn't know anything about gluten-intolerance, but he's been amazingly supportive about it. He's even gotten me to be more assertive asking about ingredients in restaurants! The day we figured out how to make gumbo with a GF roux was a big victory. 
7. He went to Jesuit High School in New Orleans, so the Jesuits are a big part of his spirituality. I've got a Vincentian background, so we educate each other. 
8. Due to geographic distance, our moms have never met, but we are pretty sure they are almost the same person. Bonus: my mom was taught by Jesuits at SLU, his mom has a Vincentian confessor. 
9. This summer and fall he will be in London doing history dissertation research. At first I dreaded it horribly, but I've gradually become more peaceful about it and more excited for him to have this opportunity. 
10. Ever since our third date (when we became Facebook official) we like to hold hands during the homily at Mass - except when he's in the choir loft at his parish.

Material Culture Alert: Rosary stories

October is the month of the rosary, and in honor of that some Catholic bloggers are sharing their own rosaries and the stories behind them. For instance, the always-entertaining Kat is featuring rosaries all month on The Crescat. So here's my contribution.

First of all, I should confess that the Rosary and I have not always been super close. When you are a kid it can seem endlessly boring. I've had my share of not-great rosary experiences: kneeling on the cafeteria floor in middle school; late at night in the living room when none of my siblings managed to stay awake past the first decade; or those parking lot May Crowning procession that never, ever work, no matter how hard you try to keep your Hail Marys on pace with the people in front of you.

A turning point for me was Pope John Paul II's apostolic letter Rosarium Virginis Mariae. He explained that the whole point is not how piously you enunciate each bead, but rather how you contemplate the face of Christ. It's not mindless repetition, it's tuning out the world to meditate on events in scripture.

Since then, I've been finding new ways to incorporate the Rosary into my life. Keeping one near my bed has helped me through many a night of insomnia. Road trips are another good opportunity. Lately, I've prayed through workouts, challenging myself to jog for just one more decade. Although, I learned the hard way today that even though prayer and running are zen, and treadmills technically keep you on a stationary path, you should still not close your eyes!

I have owned numerous rosaries over the the years - agate, pearl, faceted, plastic, Our Father medallions depicting the four Roman basilicas, made out of colored cord on a Jamaica service trip. One was blessed with a relic of Padre Pio, and another was given by a crush at World Youth Day who was bound for the seminary. But the one I want to talk about is the one on my rear view mirror that I see every day. It represents one of my fantastic rosary moments.

When I was a senior in high school, I was sure that I should go to Catholic University in D.C. I had a great time visiting, some friends were going there, and why wouldn't God want me to further my Catholic education? In the end, though, it came down to money, and I had to settle for my second-choice state school.

The week my parents and I made the decision, I was devastated and confused. How could this be the way God wanted it? Happily, there was a chapel at my school with the Blessed Sacrament, so I went there during a free period. In the dim light, I grabbed a plastic rosary from the basket by the door and plopped myself down at the altar rail to demand some answers. One decade along, I looked down at my hands - the rosary had green and yellow beads. The colors of my state school.

That state school ended up being one of the best decisions I ever made. I didn't know then how much it would make me learn and grow. But God knew, and I like to think that He and His Mom decided to send me a little hug of encouragement about it that day.
The rosary in my car is not the original from that story, but it's close. It put it there to remind me that God's providence is never far away, even if it can be mysterious.

What about you, my very few readers? What is your favorite rosary? Do you have any good rosary-related stories?

Cooking on a budget

Lately I've been a little short on cash, due in part to my own stupidity and in part to the perils of being a Poor Grad Student. ($350 student activity fee when I am on campus 3 hours a week? Really?) Since groceries are a flexible budget item, I've tried to spend as little as possible. Actually, it's been a good experience and has made me get more creative. Nostalgia for rice and beans night in the VSC house led me to cooking dried beans in my crock pot, which was possibly the easiest cooking method ever.

Given my current situation, I was thrilled to discover the recipe blog Budget Bytes. I absolutely love how Beth gives prices for ingredients and per serving. This is a nice contrast to Food Network magazine, which has pretty pictures but often requires me to buy some random ingredient I'll barely use.

So last week or so I tried this recipe from the blog, and it was very tasty. Here is how mine turned out:Pasta, protein, and veggies - yum! And yes, I made it gluten free. A word about GF pasta: Trader Joe's sells brown rice spaghetti and fusilli for less than $2. It's very similar to pricier Tinkyada rice pasta, and even my gluten-full friends have eaten it happily. Personally, I don't mess with that goofy stuff made of corn and quinoa. It basically tastes like bland corn, and that is not pasta, my friends.

Thanks for the shoutout!

A big thanks to D. aka Qandlequeen for giving me a shoutout on her blog! She was one of my co-workers in St. Louis last year, and definitely helped keep me sane as I adjusted to office life. Not only did she answer my near-constant tech questions, she kept a secret "vending machine" of candy in her desk drawers. And then there were the office pranks.... I'm her blog keeps me in touch with her adventures and sense of humor.

I'm also glad D. has photo documentation of my visit when I was in STL last month. After The Nicest Boss In the World had thanked me a dozen times for dropping by, he ran out and bought everyone in the office Ted Drewes frozen custard. Because, well, he's the Nicest Boss In The World. All that custard came with dry ice, which provided a fun distraction.

**Side note on Ted Drewes** If you are ever in St. Louis, their custard is a MUST. My mom went to St. Louis University, so all my life I've been hearing about their legendary "concretes" that are so thick you can turn them upside down. Ted's is honestly the only ice cream I have dared to eat in my 9 years of lactose intolerance, it's that crucial. After I could stomach not one but two servings last month, I'm considering loosening my dairy prejudices.