Thanks For Asking

Yes, as a matter of fact, I AM So.Freaking.Ready.For.Summer.

It's not just about the weather for me. It's about the fact that I haven't had a real summer since before the last Olympics. Last summer, The Lad was barely of his apnea/Bradi monitor, was needing to be fed every 2 hours at the LONGEST, and The Feared Redhead was pumping -- this limited our travel range AND our time away from the house (or other source of electricity and privacy). The summer before THAT, it was job hunting as a result of the pending layoff, and dealing with TFR's hyperemesis. Most of my time was spent by the bedside of a very sick pregnant woman.

So for both of us, this summer is being looked forward to quite expectantly. The Lad is old enough to take camping, and for drives in the country. We're already thinking about where we want to go camping, and I'm starting to get the Itch.

And yes, the weather has been part of the problem. But not because it's miserable. Au contraire, we're having quite a pleasant early spring. Today, despite a bit of chill in the air, the sun is shining brightly. Yesterday was similar, and warmer, and we enjoyed a lovely walk through Alton Baker Park. But it's still too cold for camping and other TRULY Summer activities, so the fact that it's pleasant enough to hint at what's to come, but still cool enough to make me wait is driving me CRAZY.

In fact, Saturday I was singing along with THomas the Tank Engine's theme music, but changed the lyrics to "They're 2, they're 4, they're 6, they're 8, shunting trucks and hauling freight. Watch daddy go 'round the bend, Thomas and his friends."

I do need to get out.

I'm It!

Thanks for the Memory to GroovyVic at Fiddle Dee Dee.

You Are Coke

A true original and classic, you represent the best of everything you can offer. Just the right amount of sweet, just the right amount of energy... you're the life of the party. Your best soda match: Mountain Dew Stay away from:Dr Pepper

What Kind of Soda Are You?

Honey Bee Mine

Last week I mentioned Terroir, the idea that due to factors like soil composition, location has an effect on the way wine, and indeed food in general, tastes. One of the most common foodstuffs of which this is true, yet often is overlooked, is honey. Interestingly, when I opened my email this morning, I had received a link to an online culinary publication that highlights honey this month. That's right -- the type of flower from which the bees extract nectar has an effect on the flavor of the honey. And bees being the little energy conservationists they are, if you place hives near a large source of one particular flower, odds are strongly in favor of that flower predominating the honey produced.

As the article alludes to but does not state, the most common honey in the United States is clover and/or alfalfa honey. There are a few regional favorites of which I'm aware -- in California, Orange Blossom honey is popular. In some other western states, sagebrush honey is. Here in the Northwest, it's blackberry honey.

But as the article also mentions, wildflowers make a dark, sharp-tasting honey. And growing up in Southern Oregon, I developed a taste for honey from an all-too-common local variety of, ahem, "wlidflower". It' s a local secret that not many people even here in Oregon know about, but for those of us raised rurally, especially in the southern end of the state, it can be a passion. The wildflower in question?

Poison Oak.

You heard me right. Poison oak is indeed a flowering plant, and there is SCADS of the stuff all over Southwestern Oregon. And yes, bees produce honey from its flowers. The honey is, like most wildflower honey, darker and sharper than clover honey. It's also a bit stronger, with a wilder flavor, almost spicy or musky. It's an acquired taste, but once acquired, it will haunt you, because it can be hard to find.

But over the weekend I discovered that Market of Choice is stocking it. Glory Bee, a local honey company, produces it, and I knew this, but not many stores will stiock it. MoC has taken a chance, and from what the clerk was telling me, it's getting the same "I've found the Grail!" reaction from other shoppers that it got from me yesterday.

Wine Whine

As mentioned in previous posts, we have a local market chain here in the Eugene-Springfield area called Market of Choice which is a hybrid between a regular small grocery chain and a whole Foods-type store. It carries a large selection of organic produce, free range meat, aned other health foods, as well as homeopathic remedies, etc.

It also, as I've said, has one of the best wine sections around, and a fantastic cheese department. Every store has a cheese steward and a wine steward on staff to assist customers in selecting the right wine or cheese for a given occcasion or meal. One of the things I appreciate about them is that they are happy to bear your budget in mind, and will try to find the right selection within your stated price range -- not to push the most expensive wine or cheese they can on you.

The wine steward at the location nearest our house (the MoC on Franklin, for my local readers) is a young man named Will. and when I say young man, I mean young even compared to my not-that-old age -- he's probably in his late 20's (bobgirrl, I'm looking at you). But despite his youth, the kid knows what the hell he's talking about when it comes to wine. He has recommended numerous wines to me, and not once have I regretted taking his advice. And calling the position wine steward may be a bit restrictive -- he's actually the assistant beverage department manager, and he is just as good at picking beer. If we were ancient Greeks, he'd be favored by both Ceres AND Dyonisius. That's a pretty happy subset of the Pantheon to have on your side.

This past Monday I was in another part of town, and had a limited amount of time to shop, so I stopped at another Market of Choice. One of the things I needed to pick up was a bottle of wine. I intended it to go with the Shrimp Campeche, but we went with margaritas instead, so I ended up serving it with another Mexican meal last night. I spoke to the wine person at this other store, and explained my dilemma: I needed a white wine that would go well with a spicy meal, and my wife thinks Gewurtztraminer (which I consider ideal with spicy food) is too sweet. He recommended a White Burgundy, which he said is essentially a Chardonnay. I told him I try to pick Oregon wines as much as possible, but he assured me that this French wine was superior.

Now, I try to avoid buying French products as much as possible -- I come as close to boycotting France as you can get without actually actively boycotting France. I respect French cuisine, but I believe their government is intentionally charting a policy course to set itself as a foil to US interests, and I am disinclined to financially patronize a semi-hostile nation. But I occasionally relent, and he was adamant that this was the right wine for me, so I bought it. Last night I served it. We had blue corn nachos with black beans, white cheddar, and a Mexican-spiced chicken sausage. I made sure I tried the wine both before and after eating any of the food.

I was unimpressed. It lacked the mellow richness I'm used to from Oregon and California Chardonnays. All I tasted was tartness and up front acid, with maybe a little bit of fruit trying to fight its way through to my taste buds. There was no depth, no complexity. It was boring, and the only redeeming feature was that it contained alchohol. It wasn't even that thirst quenching.

I should have listened to the warning signals in my head when I noticed that he thought it would be better simply because it was French. Look, the French make some great wine, but that doesn't exempt them from occasionally making swill.

Lesson learned: If I'm going to take someone's advice on somehting like wine, I want them to have proven to me their ability in this regard.

My goal in going to culinary school is not only to become a chef, but one day to own my own restaurant. In the past couple of years, as my home cooking has blossomed, I've recognized the importance of serving the right wine with a meal. Hence, I have reached the conclusion that one of my priorities if I ever do have my own restaurant will be to find the right Sommelier -- someone with not only a good knowledge of wine and food, but also someone with whom I establish a rapport, and who shares my vision for the cuisine of the restaurant. And yes, in this case, it will be someone who understands how good Oregon wines can be, and is willing to give them preference.

Why, you ask?

One of the oenological concepts that the French established is terroir, the idea that "the special characteristics of geography tbestowed individuality upon the food product" (to paraphrase from Wikipedia). I used to dismiss the idea, but the more I drink wine, the more apparent it becomes. And I've become convinced that the concept applies to other foodstuffs, not just wine. This has led me to believe that the best wine to pair with food from a given region is wine from that same region. And since my goal is to highlight Oregon food ingredients in my menu, it only makes sense to pair them with Oregon wines. It's not that French wines or California wines or australian wines suck (they don't), it's that they'd be better paired with French or California or Australian foods.

The short term lesson learned is that when I need help picking a wine, I'm going back to the MoC on Franklin and talking to Will.

Another Wine Heaven

I got into a discussion of wine regions in the comments to this post over at the Llama Butchers, and it got me thinking about all of the wineries right here in the Eugene area. There are some good ones, and so I decided to list them and see which ones I've been to. I've italicized those:

Benton-Lane
Briggs Hill
Chateau Lorane
Eugene Wine Celllars
High Pass
Iris Hill
King Estate
LaVelle
Rainsong
Saginaw Vineyards
Secret House
Sweet Cheeks
Sylvan Ridge/Hinman
Territorial
Pfeiffer

Update:
What do you think, folks? Was I being oversensitive?

Fuzzy Furry Logic

Thanks for the Memory to Courtney at Midvale School for the Gifted Alumni Association and MJ at Several Moving Cars.

Mostly Calvin You are 70% Calvin and 30% Hobbes

Your inner Calvin often prevails, but, as in the image below, you have a significant Hobbesian component. I'm going to try to stretch the visual metaphor here: you have a good head on your shoulders, but when you don't use it, your crazy body gets you in trouble? Does that work? Odds are you're impulsive and imaginative, but it's possible you've collected just enough wisdom to hold your most anti-social urges in check. Most of the time. It's a precarious balance, like a boy on one foot with a tiger head.

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 89% on calvin You scored higher than 3% on hobbes

Link: The Calvin Or Hobbes Test written by gwendolynbooks on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

A Little Bit About Me

Recently one of my favorite bloggers, Theresa of This Mom Blogs, underwent surgery, and admitted to some nerves. One of the things that she mentioned was the fact that the surgery was being done at a teaching hospital. I commented in order to reassure her, telling her that two of my childhood surgeries were done at a teaching hospital, and my care was excellent.

The interaction got me thinking, and I decided to share with er my medical history. And since I'm going to be sharing anyway, it might as well be with my entire blog audience. I've alluded to it in the past, so now I'll come clean. My mother reads my blog, she can correct any discrepancies in my recollection of events.

As I said in that previous post, I was a very sick child. Over the course of the first six or seven years of my life, I was in and out of the hospital numerous times. I contracted just about every childhood disease then known to man, including some that aren't that common. I had mumps, measles, and rubella. I contracted a croup that caused my throat to swell so badly that a tracheotomy and an oxygen tent were necessary. Another time when my mother took me to the emergency room, the doctor who examined me called over a group of residents, showed them my symptoms, and told them how rare it was for such new residents to get to see a classic case of scarlet fever so early in their careers. We have somewhere a photograph of me as a boy, barely older than a toddler, standing in a hallway and looking back at my own butt, bare because I've lost so much weight, my pants won't stay on. My family was not entirely sure they weren't going to lose me.

Time and time again, they would take me to the doctors, and the doctors would treat whatever ailment I currently had. But it wasn't until I was almost ten that one of the doctors, a "Young Turk", just out of residency and feeling his oats, decided to ask "Why is this kid always sick?" He ordered a battery of tests (some more unpleasant than others -- more on that later), and the results revealed something most interesting. My left kidney was severely underdeveloped, and there were problems with the valves leading from my kidneys to my bladder. The doctors deduced that this was reducing my body's ability to flush toxins out of my system, and that this was weakening my immune system. It was decided that the defective kidney would have to be removed, and the valve between my right kidney and my bladder repaired.

As providence (or luck, for you agnostics & atheists) would have it, the man who was at that time the world's leading nephrologist, an Egyptian doctor named Tanaka (I think), was in the United States for an extended stay, and agreed to take my case.

The surgeries would be performed at the University of California Medical Center in San Francisco. To this day, despite the politics of that town, this fact alone retains for it a special place in my heart. They took place a couple of months apart. The first surgery would correct the valve, the second would remove the bad left kidney.

The staff at the hospital was fantastic. They went to a lot of trouble on a daily basis to make sure we were as comfortable, or at least comforted, as possible. The hospital was a research hospital as well as teaching, and almost all of the other children in the pediatric ward were terminal. Of course, I didn't realize it at the time. The nurses in particular were amazingle compassionate and professional. Two stick out in my mind -- Dave, the first male nurse I ever met, and Jackie, a large African American woman who exuded motherliness that could be seen from space. The doctors explained each procedure to me and my parents ahead of time so that nothing would be unexpected -- it was all frightening enough, adding surprise to the mix would have been awful. We were allowed to raid the kitchen for anything our doctors said was ok to eat. The day I left after my second surgery, one of the nurses offered to make me a milkshake, and I told her I'd have it later, only to be rerleased before I had it.

The surgeries went well, and I have few memories of the days of the surgeries themselves, but the two I do have are vivid: I remember my anesthesiologist, a Samoan mountain named Tony, putting the mask on me and having me breathe deep and count dwon from ten. I never made it to 1 as he began spinning above me, then dissapearing at the end of a tunnel into a technicolor psychedelia. But I wasn't scared -- when a man who looks like he could play linebacker in the NFL tells you you're going to be OK, you know you're going to be ok.

But when I awoke, that's when I got scared -- I was in the ICU post-op, but I didn't know where I was, and I was a wake for quite some time before anyone noticed I'd come to.

After the surgeries, I had to have a catheter interted into my lower abdomen to drain fluid. My body didn't appreciate this procedure, and tried to reject the catheter throughout my recovery. The doctors told my parents that what their 10-year-old was experiencing every 10-15 minutes for a week or so was almost identical in location and intensity to severe labor contractions (no wonder then that I was all for TFR getting an epidural when she had The Lad), and there was only one drug that was effective in easing my pain. That's how we discovered that I'm allergic to codeine. At one point in my recovery, I was placed in a wheelchair and taken to a classroom where a tutor tried to help me keep up on my schoolwork. She sent me back to my room after one of my contractions freaked her out -- apparently I reacted to it so violently that I had all four wheels of the wheelchair in the air at once.

Eventually I did recover, and my health has been normal ever since. I did have to go back for some follow-up tests a couple of years later, and was supposed to continue to do so until adolescence, but they were the most unpleasant of the tests I mentioned before. Remember, this was in the days before MRI, and the only way to look inside me was by using old-fashioned X-rays. The problem was that they needed to dye my bladder and kidneys. The dye couldn't be injected intraveninously, and it couldn't be ingested, or it would not concentrate in my kidneys. It had to be BACKED into me -- I'll leave it at that. The experience was so traumatic that my mother decided I was not going through THAT again.

And so that is my medical past. You can see why I am a fan of teaching hospitals, and why to this day I adore nurses.

UPDATE:
My mom came through, check out the comments.

Solomon I Ain't

*sigh* I knew this day would come, but I never expected it so soon in The Lad's young life. And now that it has, I don't know what to do. So I'm seeking the wisdom of other, more experienced parents.

A little background may be in order.

At almost 14 months, The Lad is almost entirely up to speed on normal development for his age -- the only thing that reflects the fact that he was a preemie is that he's a little behind with his Gross Motor Skills (he's not quite walking yet, but he crawls like a bat turtle out of hell). At this point his little personality is well-developed, as is his repertoire of facial expressions, body language, and pre-talking verbal cues (he can also say a few words, including his name), and he's showing signs of being quite bright -- he's curious, and has already done some problem-solving, including how to keep a ball away from the dog.

So we have a child who is self-propelled, inquisitive, and has a strong personality. I think the parents out there know where this is going. That's right, he's already finding that most cherished of childhood treasures, "trouble". At this point it mostly consists of trying to open drawers he is not supposed to, and coming into possession of things mommy and daddy SHOULD have been able to prevent (like TV remotes, etc.) and discipline consists of "no" and tutting, replacing the offfending item with a toy, and the occasional flick on the hand (not hard enough to hurt, just enough to startle). You can imagine, he does not enjoy it, and expresses this displeasure.

So that brings me to the dilemma, and I will present it as a question to my elders:

How do you deal with a situation where your child has done/is doing something you know they shouldn't, and must be corrected, but they're being so damned cute and funny while doing it that you can't look at them with a straight face, let alone a stern one?

UPDATE:
Memo
From: The Meme-Mental Moron
To: The Llama Butchers
Re: Parental Advice
Uh, thanks for the anecdote, Robert. Like things weren't bad enough without that stark glimpse of what the future holds.

Too Close to Home

Thanks for the Memory to Daniel at Daniel's Political Musings.

Not long after I posted on Hillary Rodham Clinton and Immigration, I hopped over to Daniel's blog and read the following:

Finnish man headed home because of fraud



3/22/2006, 1:08 a.m. PT
The Associated Press

Pentii Reino Tuomi, 58, used at least 16 aliases and false Social Security numbers as he hopped from one state to another performing a variety of jobs. He was Danny Cole; he was Dan Savage. He was a bouncer, a bartender and even a bodyguard for Walter Mondale when the senator ran for president in 1984.

Now it has come to an end.

Tuomi is scheduled to be arraigned in Eugene this week on charges of felony fraud and accepting more than $50,000 in public assistance benefits under a false identity during the dozen or so years he's lived in the Eugene area. Federal charges were filed against him in Portland last summer, accusing him of illegally receiving $68,835 in Social Security benefits.

Authorities told the Register-Guard newspaper that Tuomi will probably be given 30 days to leave the country and will not receive jail time because of his cooperation. Arrangements will likely be made for him to send the money he owes back to Oregon.

"I just wanted to make things right," Tuomi said recently while sitting in the Hosanna Christian Fellowship church in Eugene. "It bothered my conscience."

I know this man, who actually goes by his middle name, Reino. The Feared Redhead and I used to attend the church he still attends and on whose property he lives.

My heart breaks for Reino. He's a broken man, and is truly contrite. He knows what he did is wrong, and I admire him for turning himself in and trying to make things right. As a Christian, I believe there is forgiveness for sin when there is repentance. Despite his past, I consider Reino a brother.

But he and I also know that there are connsequences for our actions. It is just that he face those consequences, and right that the government uphold the law.

I agree with his deportation, but I'll miss him, and I'll pray for him.

Sooper Seekrit Message to Bobgirrl

Happy now?

Confession Time

OK, we all have our secret shames. Mine is this: I occasionally find some of the performances by American Idol contestants enjoyable, and the show in general entertaining. The Feared Redhead loves the show overall. I get a twisted pleasure from the train wreck with a laugh track that is the auditions, and while Seacrest, Randy and Paula annoy the hell out of me, Simon Cowell is delightfully. Yet I appreciate him most when a performer actually does well and he is equally blunt in his praise.

Last night the theme was music from the 50's. I was pleased that two of the performers chose country songs from the era. And what blew me away was Chris Daughtry's rendition of Johnny Cash's I Walk the Line. He performed a hard rock ballad version of it that was driving and passionate and, while off key in a place or two, was powerful (sounds familiar when discussing Johnny Cash's music). I think the Man in Black would have approved.

You Were Saying?

Thanks for the Memory to The LlamaButchers and Newsbusters.

Back in September of last year, I posted on a case in the Netherlands where a polygamous civil union was legalized. I argued that this was a logical extension of same sex marriage. As I said then, "the most commonly used and accepted arguments against limiting Marriage to heterosexual monogamy are just as valid as arguments against limiting Marriage to monogamy AT ALL." My point was and remains that once we establish that marriage is not solely a union between one man and one woman, we have undercut any argument that marriage be solely between only two individuals at all.

At the time, one of my readers -- I think I rememeber who, but am not certain *cough cough Smallholder cough cough* -- presented a couple of arguments against polygamy and in support of gay marriage that, while valid, are NOT the arguments that are commonly used. He further went on to argue, if I remember correctly, that polygamy would NOT become a "cause" the way gay marriage has, and would NOT become a popular cause celebrite the way gay marriage has.

Well, I suppose he's right, as long as you don't consider coverage on the Today Show and MSNBC/Newsweek, and sympathetic treatment in an HBO Series to be the beginning of a cause celebrite.

At the time I made the argument, I tried to keep my predictions pretty reasonable. I didn't make any wild predictions like, say, "Next, people will be marrying other species!" or anything absurd like that. But once you accept the argument that marriage is nothing more than an expression of love, the lid's off Pandora's box.

Second Verse, Same as the First.

Quick quiz. It's easy, only two questions:

1. Which Democratic Senator called in 2003 for a national ID card in order to help combat illegal immigration?

2. Which other Democratic Senator gave a speech last week accusing Republicans of wanting to create a "Police State" in their opposition to illegal immigration?

OK, put down your pencils. What did you put down? For question #1, the answer is Hillary Rodham Clinton. No big surprise there -- this is the woman who once said "We're going to take things away from you on behalf of the common good." Her position is that big government, intrusive government, nanny state government, is a good thing.

But while that view of government is common on the left, it's not as popular among liberals when applied to immigration reform -- as evidenced by that second quote.

So who made that second comment, the one so sharply in contrast with Hillary's view? It was none other than Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton, in a speech made last week to supporters of the legalization of illegal immigrants.

I seem to recall that this was one of the very traits the GOP was able to use against Senator Kerry (D- France) in the last presidential race -- the ability to pick a side to an issue, take a stand on it, and then pick the other side when THAT is convenient. Apparently Hillary didn't learn from that.

And she should be even more aware of the danger in making such flip flops -- Kerry was one of a herd of Democratic hopefuls who only emerged as the front-runner after a very lively primary race. People have been watching Clinton, speculating on her candidacy, since before her husband left office. She should know that everything she says is going to be very closely scritinized.

You can't have it both ways, Hillary. Establishing a national ID would be far more intrusive and "Police State" than anything that serious conservatives are advocating to secure our borders. By making these conflicting comments, you are revealing yourself as a two-faced political hack, and at the same time, revealing that you have more concern for helping people violate our laws to come here than for protecting the rights of those of us who are here legally.

The Dangers of Dressing in the Dark

I get up somewhere between 5:00 and 5:00 every morning so that I can be at work by 5:45. I try to keep the turning on of lights to a minimum so that TFR can sleep intil The Lad wakes her up between 6 and 7.

This morning I got up and realized I had forgotten to lay out my clotyhes last night. No problem -- there's a load of clean laundry in the dryer. I grabbed a shirt from the dryer and headed backinto the house to dress -- the laundry is in the garage and it's colder than Hillary out there. I got dressed in the dark and came in to work.

Where I removed my coat and discovered that this is one of muy work-around-the-house shirts -- you know, the ones so dingy and stained that you've seen nicer clothes on the people holding cardboard signs at intersections? Yeah, one of THOSE shirts.

Today is going to be just freaking splendid, I can already tell.

I'm Baaaaack......

Comments should be back up now.

UPDATE:

The double roster for the Blogs for Atkinson Blogroll is corrected, and Day by Day is also back up. Also, I've backed up the entire database and template (Thanks for the Memory to Sadie, that dead sexy lady, for instructions on how).

Culinary Compromise

Saturday evening, The Feared Redhead got off work early, so we decided to go shopping for dinner together. We decided on shrimp. I wanted to make Scampi, she wanted something with a Mexican twist. I came up with a compromise.

There is already a trational Mexican dish that combines shrimp with butter, called Camarones al Mojo de Ajo. It's delicious, one of my favorite Mexican dishes, but it positively swims in butter, and since TFR and I are both dealing with serious weight issues, I wanted something with just a hint of butter. Recalling my earlier grilled recipe for Mexican flavored shrimp, I decided to combine the idea of Scampi, Camarones Al Mojo de Ajo, and Tequila Lime Shrimp. The recipe I came up with, I call Shrimp Campeche, since Campeche is a Mexican seaport, and sounds a little like Scampi.

Usually, when TFR wants to compliment me on my success with a new recipe, she'll teasingly give me "permission" to cook it again. This time, she demanded I do so -- and soon. I believe her exact words were, "Like, Monday."

Here's the recipe, expanded to be cooked for four instead of 2.

Shrimp Campeche

1 lb. raw shrimp, shelled and deveined
2 tbsp butter
2-4 cloves minced garlic
1/2 cup tequila
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp chili powder
1 tsp powdered Mexican oregano
1 tsp ground cumin
3 fresh limes
chopped fresh cilantro

You will need:

medium glass bowl
12 inch skillet
slotted spoon
chef's knife
matches

In a glass bowl, combine the shrimp and all of the dry seasonings, mix thoroughly.

Place the butter in a skillet and melt over medium high heat. Add the garlic, sautee until clear, then add the shrimp, stir . Immediately pour in the tequila. As soon as the tequila begins to boil, light with a match. Allow to burn until the shrimp is pink. Douse by squeezing the limes over the skillet (be careful to do this from a sufficient height to avoid burning yourself), drop the squeezed lime halves into the skillet. Using a slotted spoon, remove the shrimp to a plate. Reduce the liquid in the skillet by half, remove from heat, stir the shrimp back in. The shrimp can be served on a plate like scampi or served on corn tortillas. Sprinkle with a little chopped cilantro as a garnish.

Serves 4

Bad News

I spoke with my mom on the phone last night. My grandmother is far worse, and probably has days to live. It breaks my heart that she never got to meet her eldest grandson's firstborn. And I'm sorry he'll never meet the lady who was so special to his father.

St. Patrick's Lorica

Thanks for the Memory to MJ at Several Moving Cars.

Morning Prayer of Saint Patrick

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In obedience of angels,
In service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In preachings of the apostles,
In faiths of confessors,
In innocence of virgins,
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven;
Light of the sun,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of the wind,
Depth of the sea,
Stability of the earth,
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me;
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's hosts to save me
From snares of the devil,
From temptations of vices,
From every one who desires me ill,
Afar and anear,
Alone or in a mulitude.

I summon today all these powers between me and evil,
Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.
Christ shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through a belief in the Threeness,
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation

St. Patrick (ca. 377)

Pretty

I ask you. Isn't this a beautiful bottle?



The seal was real sealing wax, done so prettily, it broke my heart to have to remove it.

Although I did take comfort in the snifter I poured myself.

If You have to Explain It, It Isn't Funny.

So my good friend Vulture Six thinks I need to explain the name of my blog. Or at least the temporary name. You see, he's under the impression that I actually get new readers, not just the faithful dozen or so who visit me regularly. How special.

For my faithful readers, you get it, and it was for you I did it.

For those who might be new here, or accidentally stumbled upon my blog while googling for naked pictures of Giada De Laurentis (I have none, sorry. Giada's not that kind of girl.), the blog is usually called Memento Moron, and is a play on the old MEmento Mori. The Mement O'Moron is in celebration of St. PAtrick's Day, since I am part Irish.

Sooper Seekrit message to Vulture Six: Happy now?