Archive for March, 2007

Mixed news

Kasia March 26th, 2007

I’m always one to want to hear the bad news first (so as to end on a positive note, I suppose), so I’m going to start with the unfortunate news and then move on to the good.

Father John is being transferred as of July 1. As far as I’m concerned it’s sad news for everyone except the parish that’s getting him, although I suppose they may not see it that way at first – after all, they’ve probably had their current pastor for some time, and may very well be sorry to see him leave. With that said, however, I’m trying to focus on the fact that this is in God’s hands, and to pray that His will be done, whatever that may be.

The truly joyous news is that my parents now both know, and are being very supportive about the whole thing so far. I confess myself surprised, and a little nervous (as though the proverbial other shoe hasn’t dropped yet), but very, very grateful.  Deo gratias!

And one other piece of interesting news is that I got a line on a job that might answer a prayer I’ve been carrying in my heart for some time. The position isn’t even open yet, but it’s a very real possibility for me. So again, His will be done.

Thanks for the tip!

Kasia March 23rd, 2007

Sara suggested that I try Chadwicks. Thank you so much for the tip, Sara! I found a lot of prospective outfits, and have actually ordered two. The one that I really wanted for the Vigil is backordered…guess a lot of people wanted it too…but I found an alternative, and will post pictures of both later today.

Incidentally, I took a look at Sara’s blog and am looking forward to reading more from her. Take a look when you get a chance – I’m adding her to my blogroll, along with Nina, my darling sponsor who should be ON BEDREST, NOT BLOGGING!  ;-)

Hurrah!

Baby steps

Kasia March 22nd, 2007

Remember the movie What About Bob? Remember “baby steps”? “I’m baby-stepping out of the office…”

Baby steps are something I’ve really come to appreciate as I’ve gotten older. I never did when I was younger; I wanted everything done exactly right RIGHT NOW!, thank-you-very-much, and what do you mean I can’t save the whole world before breakfast? What about if I plan to eat late, say, more of a brunch-y thing? No? Well, I’ll show YOU!

Predictably, it didn’t work out well. Consistently. There’s a quote I’ve heard attributed to Einstein – don’t know if he was really the source – that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Well, by that definition I was insane, but I did come by it honestly (sometime I’ll tell you about my family).

So about five years ago I discovered a site called Flylady.net, which is run by a really neat woman named Marla Cilley, a.k.a. FlyLady. (She likes fly fishing – what can I say?) One of her big catch phrases is “baby steps” and another is “You can do anything for 15 minutes.” She’s a gem – I strongly recommend you go check out her site. I’ve started implementing some of her suggestions piecemeal, and lately have been trying to do it more consistently. I can tell you that my life runs much more smoothly when I’m following FlyLady.

Recently, The Big Seester found a book called The Four-Day Win that talks about the importance of setting small, incredibly achievable goals for yourself…in other words, baby steps. After a recent shopping excursion, I have decided to implement a modified version of The Four-Day Win.

Let me ’splain. (No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Bonus points to anyone besides TBS who gets that reference.)

I am of Rubenesque proportions. Shopping, therefore, is a trial. I really enjoyed shopping when I was thin, even though I was even a larger-than-average size then. (I was a size 12 despite being a biscuit underweight. Darned peasant genes!) But now…well, let’s just say I leave unnecessary shopping “until I lose some weight.” When I say “unnecessary” I mean if there is any possible scrap of clothing in my wardrobe that is not obscenely tight or ridiculously loose, that could POSSIBLY be construed as acceptable for a given occasion, by the loosest imaginable standards, I do not shop. I even wore a black suit to a wedding because my mother (who knew I didn’t have cash to buy an outfit anyway) told me that as long as I wore a glitzy top to dress it up, it was OK for an evening wedding. And I wore a brown suit to a summer daytime wedding, because hey, they said business casual! (In my defense, I aggressively shopped for an appropriate dress to wear, but the only one I found that came close to suiting my needs was out of my budget.)

However, as my loyal readers know, I expect to be received into the Church at the Easter Vigil. So I decided to suck it up (figuratively speaking) and go find an appropriate dress or suit to wear. I don’t have a lot of springy or summery clothes anyway, at least not that are work-appropriate, so hopefully I can then go on to use whatever I buy as a nice work outfit.

I hit five stores in two hours. Zilch.

Now, there are a few basic mistakes (in my opinion) that fashion designers make when they are creating clothes for plus-sized women. And hey – who decided that size 14 was the line of demarcation anyway?! (See earlier point about having been an underweight size 12 in high school.)

Anyway, the first mistake that they make is in terms of patterns. For some reason, The Powers That Be (hereafter referred, for the sake of my fingers, as TPTB) have determined that chubby chicks like me need big, garish designs on our clothes. Especially on tops. I think it’s supposed to camouflage our figures.  I don’t think it works. And even if it did work, I don’t like big, garish patterns.

However, the alternative seems to be to put us in either incredibly drab colors (again with the camouflage) or ridiculously bright, garish ones, which guarantee that we’ll be seen from 300 yards away. I saw a near-fluorescent lemon-yellow sweater in the plus-size section at Kohl’s. Thanks – if you include a Mag-Light with that, I could go climb up into the nearest lighthouse when the bulb burns out, because there’s no WAY anyone would be able to miss me!

The other thing they do that drives me bonkers is that they completely miss the mark when deciding what should and shouldn’t be available in plus sizes. Want a skimpy halter top? No problem! Want a pair of hip-huggers? We’ve got  you covered (so to speak). Want something tasteful and feminine? Umm…<scratches head and looks around>…no, we don’t really have anything that fits that bill. How about you try on this dress? It’ll make you look like a streetwalker, but it comes in your size!

In short, there seems to be very little room for me in plus-size clothing. In fact, I’m more or less in a no-win shopping situation, because I have little money, conservative tastes, and am overweight.

I’m not changing my tastes, and I don’t expect to have more money in the near future. So that leaves me with one alternative: lose weight, which I have been trying unsuccessfully to do for several years. I’m down five pounds from my highest weight ever, and have been hovering here for a couple of years. Wooo! Go me!  ;-)

So instead of doing the usual unsuccessful nonsense, I have decided to do a couple of things.

First, my employer has set up a ‘wellness program’ for employees. Since I’m overweight enough for it to be considered a health risk (though pride does require me to specify that I’m not really that big!), they’re giving me a little kickback for participating.

But mostly, since I know what I need to do and the issue is more about me actually DOING it, I’ve decided to modify the “four-day win” idea and conquer with baby steps. It won’t do anything for me by the Easter Vigil, but hey – God loves me even when I’m fat, right? And the Vigil isn’t about me or how I look anyway. (Yes, I did need to say that. Pride is a nasty sin.)

The “four-day win” means that you pick a ridiculously achievable goal, do it for four days, reward yourself, and then build on it incrementally. Kind of like the time TBS tried to potty-train her cats, by putting the litter box on newspapers by the toilet and gradually building it higher and higher, slowly, so they didn’t even know it was happening…which was a great idea, and probably would have worked, except that she didn’t brace up the newspapers with anything to stabilize the pile…I’m sure you can imagine the scene. Yeah. It was a mess. …and she hasn’t tried to potty-train her cats since.

Me, I’m stubborn, and I take a lot of time to learn habits. So I’m doing a seven-day win. For the next seven days, I will walk five minutes each day. I don’t mean walking to and from the car, or walking to Kroger. I will go for a five-minute walk on my lunch (or whenever) solely for the purpose of walking. If I do it all seven days, I’ll reward myself by unplugging the phone and taking a long, hot bath with some sort of product in it, with a nice candle burning and a totally unserious book. Maybe TBS will lend me an Agatha Christie or a Trixie Belden. Then the next week I’ll walk for ten minutes. After I build up to 30 minutes a day, I’ll start looking at food-related goals.

And in the meantime, maybe I’ll become a plus-size fashion designer.  ;-)

Tagged for a meme!

Kasia March 19th, 2007

Stephen Wikner tagged me for the “Six Weird Things About Me” meme. I’m not sure I can narrow it down to six…but anyway, so I’m supposed to list six weird things about me, tag three new people, and let them know I’ve tagged them.

1. Being the youngest child on the block, I developed some interesting variants on the usual “lonely child” syndrome. No imaginary friends per se (unless you count the ones in books, like Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy, not to mention Reepicheep), but I actually used to pretend I was the empress of the world. I even had a national anthem, which nothing, I repeat, nothing can ever induce me to share, lest it reach The Big Seester’s ears. She has quite enough ammo with which to mock me, thank you.
 
2. I will not eat anything that has mayonnaise in it, including egg salad, chicken salad, ham salad, potato salad, and cole slaw. In fact, if I so much as suspect that something might have mayonnaise in it, I don’t eat it. If everything on the table is suspect, I lie through my teeth and say I’m not hungry. (The funniest part is that I’ve never actually TRIED mayonnaise.)

3. Building off that last one, you may have surmised that I’m a fussy eater. It’s true. I don’t eat a variety of foods, including any kind of tomatoes (though I do eat tomato sauce, provided it’s not chunky), avocadoes, pimento, tuna fish, artichokes (though I do eat spinach-artichoke dip occasionally)… At some point or another in my life I have actually tried all of those foods; however, most of my aversions to them predate my actually trying them, so it’s probably primarily vestigial prejudice.

4. I am a living example of someone who would forget her own head if it weren’t attached to my shoulders. I am also astoundingly unobservant. I worked in my current cubicle for just short of a year before I discovered that there was a light under the upper storage bin. No joke. I’m that clueless.

5. Much as I love hats, and would love to indulge in a varied wardrobe of such, my head is far too large to fit any standard hat. I even have trouble with tuques (knitted winter hats, for those of you not familiar with Canadian parlance). Since my budget does not permit a milliner’s services, I have to make do. I have one only-slightly-snug tuque, a couple of adjustable-sized baseball caps (they can’t be too shallow though, or they fall right off), and a few hats that date back to my high school hat fancies. I only ever wear the tuque or a baseball cap, though, as my gargantuan head looks utterly ridiculous in most any hat.

6. I love to sing, but as my middle sibling wryly observed when we were younger, it’s unfortunate that my talent for it does not match my passion. Consequently, I primarily sing in church, in the car, and to my cats. I even make up songs for the cats, generally alternate lyrics to standard songs. Consider the following example, to the tune of The Banana Boat Song:

“Mi-ko! Mi-i-i-ko! Miko the kitty is a handsome kitty cat!
“Come, my sweet Miko cat! Come and kiss your mama!
“Miko, come, kiss your mommy-mum-mum!
“Meek! I said meek, I said meek, I said Mi-i-i-ko!
“Miko the kitty is a handsome tuxie cat!”

I tag The Big Seester, Dr. Mabuse, and Cris. Don’t hold back – you can see I didn’t!

Erin go blah

Kasia March 17th, 2007

I’ve never ‘gotten’ the whole St. Patrick’s Day mindset. I don’t think that ‘everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day’ (or Polish on Fat Tuesday, or French on Bastille Day, or whatever other faux homogeneity we’ve concocted to try to foster brotherhood); I’ve only been out drinking once on St. Patrick’s Day (it was highly overrated – come to think of it, so is going out drinking); and why some bishops feel the need to issue a dispensation for people to eat corned beef when St. Pat’s falls on a Friday is beyond me. But that’s just me being a grinch, I suppose.

I remember the first time someone wore a “Kiss me, I’m Irish” pin on St. Pat’s. It was my friend Carrie, in high school. I think I looked at her funny; and I think she threatened to pinch me for not wearing green. For the record, there are only a few shades of green that suit my complexion. So I don’t have a lot of green in my wardrobe to begin with, and The Big Seester can, I’m sure, attest that I would forget my head if it weren’t firmly attached to my shoulders. Unless I plan carefully, I do not remember things like “Oh, today is the last day before the Christmas break; I should wear something festive” or “It’s July 4th – I should wear red, white and blue.” It’s just not high in my mental priority index. So this isn’t just me slagging St. Pat’s.

But this year I really outdid myself, albeit inadvertently. Last night I gave TBS a ride home from work, then ran to my place, fed the cats and loved them up a bit, then started tossing clothes and passport into a bag so I could get on the road to Canada. Completely forgetting the date, I packed my orange-and-white-striped tee shirt, thinking “Oh, this will look nice with my brown fleece jacket.” (And it does.)

It didn’t hit me until The Canuck and I were out at breakfast this morning at a popular university hangout, and I saw several girls walk in wearing shamrock headdresses. That’s when I realized my gaffe.

Yup. I’m wearing orange on St. Patrick’s Day. I know the Irish flag has orange in it as well as green, but there IS another, much less innocuous connotation to wearing orange. At least I’m not marching through the streets of Belfast or Edinburgh, carrying a banner that reads “The Protestant Faith I Will Defend.”
The Canuck, bless him, laughed and said “So? You’re not Irish. You’re English!”

Fair point, sweetheart. I’ll just stay out of Corktown unless and until I change shirts.

Those crazy Germans…

Kasia March 16th, 2007

Deedah sent me this story. It’s about a drunken German man who managed to climb into an emergency baby deposit box at a hospital in Dortmund, Germany.

But that’s not so much what shocked me. I mean, it sounds like he was incredibly drunk (he fell asleep in the incubator as the staff tried to get him out), so stranger things have probably happened. No, what shocked me was that German and Austrian hospitals have set up these baby depositaries to begin with.

I’m a little conflicted about the whole thing. On the one hand, it sounds a bit like what Mother Teresa’s orphanages do in India: if you don’t want your baby, give him or her to us. We’ll take care of it. And if it keeps babies from being aborted, that’s a good thing, right?

On the other hand, this seems to remove any last vestige of responsibility from the parents, and further divorces actions from consequences. I don’t want my baby? I’ll just drop it in an emergency chute – the state will take care of things. You don’t have to see a social worker. You don’t even have to sign a form. What does that mean down the road for these babies as they grow up and need to know their medical histories?

I’ve never heard of this kind of flower…

Kasia March 15th, 2007

…does it have anything to do with the Wedding at Cana?

Curtsy to Laura the Crazy Mama.

I am a
Canna


What Flower
Are You?

What are you?

Chose my patron saint(s)…

Kasia March 15th, 2007

…my confirmation name with be Edith-Francis, for St. Edith Stein and St. Francis de Sales. Yes, I’m taking two. The Canuck thinks I’m being greedy. I think he shouldn’t tease me so much during Lent.  ;-)

I actually checked with the DRE at church, to make sure I could do this. She said yes. So my only question now is whether to be Edith-Francis or feminize Francis so I would be Edith-Frances. I certainly think Frances is a nicer name for a woman – since it IS the feminine of Francis – and plus my grandmother’s name was Frances, but since it’s a masculine Francis that I chose, maybe I ought to keep the name as it is. Any thoughts?

Meanwhile, I’m just trying to keep plugging along. Pressure has definitely stepped up, and now I have the added anxiety of having mailed the cards to my parents yesterday, but all in all things are progressing as well as can be expected.

Please pray for my co-worker Joye’s baby son Sawyer; he has had a high fever for several days. Also, prayers of thanksgiving for healing would be appreciated for my sponsor Nina, who was very ill and is now recovering nicely. (I would have asked for prayers earlier, but I didn’t know she was sick, the stoic silly!)

Someone call Beloved-But-Obnoxious Cousin…

Kasia March 12th, 2007

…Bishop Flores likes to talk about WORDS!  ;-)

I attended (the first half of) the Holy Trinity Apostolate’s Lenten Symposium at my parish, St. Anastasia. I actually attended two Masses Saturday (plus the usual half-a-Mass Sunday) because I got there early to get a good seat, and the parish was still having our 8 a.m. Saturday morning Mass. So the weekend was Mass-a-riffic…  ;-)

 Anyway, our newest auxiliary bishop, the Most Rev. Daniel Flores, celebrated the Mass (with sixteen concelebrants, four seminarians, two deacons, and a battalion of altar servers, muchas gracias!). Bishop Flores gave an excellent homily – it was almost more of a mini-lecture than a homily, but I, being a giant nerd, loved the daylights out of it – during which he mentioned that he’s a grammar nerd (WOOO! Grammar nerds of the Church, unite!). He then went on to draw out a nuance of Spanish between “a good memory” and “a memory that is good.” (He assured us that the nuance is easier to see in Spanish than English, and based on my low-intermediate knowledge of French, I  see what he’s getting at.)

A good memory means you retain information well. A memory that is good means that you remember good things.

It worked really well in the context of the homily, which was about the Prodigal Son. I find that it’s very easy to fall into the mindset of the elder son, even though I know rationally that any grace, any goodness, any ANYthing good I have is a gift from God. I still tend to fall into the “what is mine by right” and “what is his because he’s getting away with something” (another Flores-ism). The other line that just made me laugh was when he quoted a Hungarian priest who had taught him at seminary, complete with faux Hungarian accent: “If I cut you, you will bleed Pelagian.”

I left early to take care of shopping for RCIA the next day, cleaning, etc., because I had a friend’s farewell party in the evening and I knew I’d be scrambling otherwise, but the first two talks (Damon Owens on NFP and Fr. Roger Landry on John Paul II’s juvenology) were excellent. If you’ve got $35 (CD) or $45 (DVD) to spare, I strongly recommend contacting Holy Trinity Apostolate to see about getting a copy of the symposium. You can order it by sending a note and your check to:

Holy Trinity Apostolate
P.O. Box 7095
Sterling Heights, MI  48311-7095

Enjoy!

Deo gratias!

Kasia March 8th, 2007

I’ve just finished drafting the text of my letter to my mother (re: converting). Once I draft my father’s (which will probably use much of the same language), the hard part is over.

The Canuck thinks that they’ll accept it without too much angst. I hope he’s right. I have been known to overblow things before. But at the very least, it could be a LOT worse. Sometimes we have to keep that in perspective.  :-)

Have a great day!

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