Mea Culpa

Repentance is one of the tenets of Lent. As Catholics, we are especially called to make confession during this time of year.

As today was not a good day, I hereby confess and repent of the following:

  1.  Instead of getting back into my Lenten routine this week (reading a book on Psalms and another on Christian meditation), I have spent too much time on Twitter. But in my defense, Trump and the GOP have given me a lot to tweet about this week. Still -mea culpa.
  2. I have been trolling Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL) on the gun control issue because of yesterday’s student walkouts and for a comment he made during the CNN town hall that he works with people who support his “agenda,” aka the NRA.  I believe gun control – especially a ban on semi-automatic weapons and devices that turn them fully automatic (aka bump stocks) – SHOULD be on his “agenda.” And because he sounded absolutely supercilious and uncaring when he said it.  Anyway, for trolling him repeatedly about his “agenda,” – mea culpa.
  3. I have also been trolling Speaker Ryan just because he has so come to deserve it.  Whatever moral force he was during the 2015-16 campaign season, it has evaporated as so much dust in the wind. So, even though mea culpa, have to mea culpa again for not being so sorry about it.
  4. My support for Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau is greater right now for than our own President, who was widely reported today to have deliberately lied to Trudeau about trade deficits that don’t exist.  This caused me to apologize twice to Trudeau on Twitter on behalf of we, the people, and reference cherry trees.  Now I have just learned Trump may have been lying about a meeting where he lied to Trudeau  because Trudeau doesn’t even know what he is talking about! Like Rex Tillerson, I confess I think Trump is a “moron.” Mea not so culpa.
  5. I yelled at my cat tonight. Mea really very culpa, especially as she is sleeping so peacefully beside me right now rather than meowing for I don’t know what to feed her because her kidneys are failing, she is hungry, but won’t eat much of anything I try to give her, including $20 a plate salmon.  Have to say mea culpa culpa again on this one.
  6. Every night I do The NY Times mini crossword twice, both on my I-phone and my I-pad, then post whichever is the fastest time to Twitter because I am arrogant about my intellect. Mea culpa.
  7. I am glad I don’t have a husband to explain to about my $200 shopping spree this afternoon, which included three pairs of shoes I didn’t need but wanted because they were so cute. I give myself a half a mea and a full culpa because, well, one pair was a Calvin Klein brand for only $25.
  8. Even though I went to dinner, ate a full grilled chicken salad and had a caffeinated Coke, I came home and ate the last Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream bar because it was there and I have no impulse control. Mea culpa, culpa mea.

As penance,  I commit myself to a weekend without Twitter, as soon as I post this blog. And ten Hail Marys.

Mea no longer so culpa? 🤷🏼‍♀️

Rex, We Hardly Knew Ye

I find it ironic that it is the GOP -which often rails against the entertainment industry and the media-that gave us our first “movie star” President in Ronald Reagan.

Now we have had more than a year of our first “television star” President, again thanks to the GOP.

To say it has been eventful is to under state the state of the Trump presidency.

And today we lose the Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, who was never cut out for the job, but who at least was smart enough to know he was working for a “moron.”

Too bad he said so aloud. It was, I am sure, the beginning of his demise.

Tillerson was not a stupid man. You don’t become chairman of Exxon that way.

But he did have a “corporate mentality” that ill-suited him for leadership on policy.

(By the way, for those who have not worked within a large corporate structure, they have their own versions of State Departments, often known as Political Affairs.  Even corporate leaders get input on the public policy stances they take.)

Corporate leaders care about policy for how it impacts shareholder value, not for the sake of policy itself.

So Tillerson never had the right “lens” for the job he held.

But to be fair, neither does Trump.  His lens is colored by a profound ignorance of history and world affairs, what Constitutional limitations there are on the Presidency, how differently government runs compared to a family business.

Yet Trump, thanks to being given a pass by Speaker Ryan and Devin Nunes (R-CA) from the House Intelligence Committee’s look at Russian intervention in the election, is now feeling “unfettered” and free to let “Trump be Trump.”

High off a campaign rally in PA this weekend, Trump is ready to leap in a single bound over those prototypes of the great “Wall” this afternoon.

If anyone thinks Trump having his way on things will be calming, think again.

I have a feeling “Trump’s Wild Ride” is just beginning.





Teleporting Gregory Peck

I have concluded it is not wise to reintroduce caffeine into your system after two years of abstinence, even if it does -along with a pain pill and a large dose of Tylenol – take the edge off what felt like a migraine coming on.

It is now 3:26 am and I am still not able to sleep, unlike my cat who is curled up tightly into a ball upon my legs as I lie abed this early March morning.

It is also not good to review recent blog posts and discover you have left words out of sentences that render them meaningless – especially if you have bragged in your bio about winning awards for your writing.

Sigh. Perfection continues to elude me.  If only the pollen blowing steadily from the pine trees all afternoon had done the same, I wouldn’t have been near migraine and would have avoided the caffeine.

But of course, then I would have missed watching the Gregory Peck-Greer Garson movie on TCM so perfectly themed for yesterday’s  announcement by Trump on tariffs for steel and aluminum.

The movie was about a wealthy scion of a Pittsburgh steel plant and the Irish housemaid with whom he falls in love.  These characters are played by Peck and Garson, respectively.

It is a reminder that we were once a country that built things, like railroads and suspension bridges, that required the unending fires tended by iron workers that sent billowing smoke over the Allegheny.

Perhaps if POTUS had announced infrastructure plans to warrant the tariffs, I could understand them.  But since he didn’t, it seems they are just for the sake of argument. Arguing seems to be something Trump enjoys, whether there is purpose to it or not.

Aside from further alienating both friend and foe alike, I am stumped.  Trump, after all, makes the best deals.  So if he is negotiating all these new best trade deals, why would we need tariffs?

Still, in the limited economy of the knowledge he seems to have accumulated with his Wharton business degree, his best deals will end up eating into our pockets and gobbling up any positive tax bonus messaging the GOP planned to use for November mid-terms and beyond.

I mean, seriously, why didn’t Trump propose the same sort of tariffs on textiles to incentivize a Renaissance in that industry? Oh, that’s right: his ties are made in China.

Trump makes the best ties, even if he doesn’t make them here, because somehow he understands THAT makes business sense. (Or is it that Ivanka makes the best tie-dyes?  I get these things confused.)

Why does Trump want to go back in search of a future?  Is that the way innovation works?  Because I always thought economies, like species, evolve or become extinct.  And in case DJT hasn’t noticed, ours evolved into a service sector economy fueled by technology a long time ago.

In fact, I am sure that despite what sounded like a congratulatory tweet, Elon Musk will build the first teleportation machine any day now.

And the phrase “Beam me up, Scottie” will become more than a line of dialogue from “Star Trek.”

Hey Siri, what do you think?



“Three Billboards: An Easter Story?”

So as my recuperating seems to need to continue, I spent the afternoon watching one of this year’s Oscar nominated movies, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.”

If you don’t like movies with foul-language and can’t look past that to an investment in the story and characters, this movie is not for you.

If you can and your focus this Lent is on topics like atonement, love, mercy and forgiveness – done in the quirky, character-driven movies that draw Oscar talents like Frances  McDormand and Sam Rockwell – then you might want to give it a look if you haven’t yet seen it.

The premise is a sad one.  Mildred, the McDormand character, has lost her daughter to murder in an especially grisly manner.  Months have passed and there has been no news from local Ebbing police.

So Mildred, driving toward home on a local road that is little traveled due to the new freeway, notices three dilapidated billboards in a row and inspiration strikes.

She decides she will rent them and put pressure on the local police chief ( Woody Harrelson) by asking why her daughter’s killer has not yet been arrested.

From this act all manner of  anger, hatred, bias, grief, stereotyping, revenge, love, mercy, kindness, forgiveness and acceptance ensue in very sad and poignant ways.

It is not a movie with a neat ending. In fact, it is an ending that may be morally questionable depending on what Mildred and Deputy Dixon (Rockwell) decide in future to do.

And maybe you have to be in a Lenten frame of mind to see in it what I saw.

Humanity in all its forms of messiness. And assurance that God is at work in mysterious ways to heal us in its midst.

Okay, So I Am Still Watching “The Bachelor”

In my January 10th, 2018 post I said I did something I swore I would never do again…watch another season of “The Bachelor.”

Spoiler Alert: I also say the same things about “Dancing With the Stars” and the “Real Housewives” franchises, yet inevitably I do. So relax, Chris Harrison.  Relax.

This afternoon while recuperating on my new leather couch, I watched Arie’s  final rose 🌹 episodes. Of course, I felt as badly for Becca as the rest of Bachelor Nation. What a horrible experience to play out live on the public stage.

But I already knew he hadn’t picked the girl he most truly loved.  There was a difference in the way he kissed Lauren that was more deeply passionate. Rewatch the final episode. See if I am right. And remember this word: chemistry.

Besides, despite saying they like independent women, deep down men really like the ones they feel need protecting.  Or the women who pretend they need it.

Plus I think Arie was deeply influenced by the family consensus that Becca was a better long-term partner because she differed so much from the type of woman to which he is normally attracted. Yeah, well…I refer you to the above paragraph.  And the word “chemistry.”

I don’t know how this all ends, as there is yet another 2 hours or more of plot line left in this saga. Unfortunately I will have to record it, as I am spending the evening making up Easter baskets for disadvantaged children with my prayer group. I am sure that is the more charitable and valuable activity anyway. Which is why I am saving my physical energy spending the afternoon resting on my new leather couch.

But of course, I will watch it in recorded format when I get home. I am sure my opinions will be strong, as they are so far.

So, as a late arrival in Bachelor Nation on this subject, here’s my two cents.

Bachelors: Never, EVER, tell two girls you love them at the same time, even if you think you do. And NEVER do it while adding the words “very, very much.”

Contestants: Even if you are one of the last two people from which he will (allegedly) choose his “forever wife,” the operative word is TWO: there are two of you, and even if he has professed his love, presume he has told the other gal the same.  Guard your hearts more.  I know they throw around the term “reality TV.” This is not real life.

Which is why so many of the “engagements” from this show end up broken.

And why we cheer so much for the ones that don’t.

P.S.  Did I mention I got a new leather couch?86787908-17B5-41BB-B88F-DECA9F7E8260

P.P.S. And a matching chair!


Meditation at Lent: Part Two

They say you can meditate anywhere, even in the midst of noise and distractions.

I put this proposal to the test today as I began my Lenten reading and meditation practice while my plumber was clanking around the guest bathroom to install new faucets and a shower head.

I know. If I were a better feminist, I would learn to do such handiwork myself. But so long as I can still afford to have such chores done for me, I will leave it to the professionals, thanks.

The first grand interruption came when CJ popped out to show me how decrypt one piece of the plumbing was and what a hard time he had in pulling it out.

I explained it had been there since the house was built in 1992.  When he noted that was the year of his birth, I suddenly felt ancient.

The next distraction was the sound of the birds.  It had been raining earlier, so they were delighted to come out and sing cheerily when it went away.

Then came a ringing sound from the bathroom that put me in mind of lightly chiming bells.  Instead of 20 minutes, I ended up coming out of meditation in 15.

But I noticed something.  When I went on to do my Divine Mercy chaplet later, I did so with a more deeply focused awareness of each bead, dropping into a deeper silence of prayer.  The sense of peacefulness I had saying it was more profound and fully felt.

There may be something to this meditation thing during Lent after all.

Ecce.  Fiat.  Magnificat.




Meditation at Lent and Audrey Hepburn

You would think being part of a team to bring a very special Lenten retreat to our Church, I would be all over it when it comes to reading the two books I specifically picked out for this year’s Easter season.


I just spent the past morning catching up on more than a week’s worth of reading on the Psalms and Christian meditation. Unfortunately, the seven days of actual meditation I missed cannot be “made up.” Those meditation periods are now lost in the cosmic void somewhere.

Meditation is not a new practice to me. It is one I have repeatedly tried to make habit, from my mid-1970’s California days going forward.

Of course, back then, though I was nominally Christian, like meditation it was a way of life I fell in and out of habit of practicing. But since meditation is a recurrent topic in my life and I consider myself a contemplative soul, I was delighted to find a book on the Catholic practice of it at our local monastery.

The author of the book -a British monk-suggests the use of the word “maranatha” as a mantra. This word was an Aramaic expression that means “Come, Lord.

When I first tried it, I had difficulty because the way he suggests silently focusing on it -ma ra na tha -includes a syllable close in sound to the “harmonic” mantra I was given when a friend (again in California days) took me to a meditation group where I was “assigned” this sound.

So, I continued to read the daily Lenten passages, but gave up on the word “maranatha” and went back to this harmonic sound that I knew would reliably take me to this deep meditative state.

Then came our Marian retreat and my vow to take on a certain type of spirituality that focuses on Marian consecration and Divine Mercy in a more apostolic way of living.

So, from the mission handbook, today I tried a meditative breathing technique that focuses on three words: ecce, fiat and Magnificat

“Ecce” means “Behold (Lord, here I am in my weakness, littleness, brokenness and sin.) It is said at the point of the lungs being empty.

On inhalation comes “fiat” meaning “let it be done to me” (according to thy will).  Exhalation is “magnificat” – “my soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.”

I got a nice breath rhythm going and was pretty focused on the words and going to a deep place in my meditative state until I a stray thought entered my head.  “What happened to Sister Luke when she walked out of the convent and back into the world.

The night before I had watched “The Nun’s Story” starring Audrey Hepburn.  It is the story of a Belgian young woman who enters religious life shortly before World War II because of her desire to go to the Congo as a nurse it is a desire that is constantly being thwarted in different ways as her superiors detect in her -and she convicts herself-an inability to completely surrender in obedience to God.

I won’t go into the details of how she is constantly tested in this manner.  As I said, in the end she decides she is incapable of this surrender of her worldly compassion and concern to surrender to the bells that represented God’s voice to enter into communion with him at the appointed times.

i couldn’t go on meditating.  Sister Luke was too much suddenly in my head again as I, too, am trying to discern a will for my life. What happened to her when she walked out that door?

Two possibilities could be hinted at: that she went back to the Congo and nurse beside the doctor who had fallen in love with her, or that, upon learning of her father’s death in an air raid and her brother’s enlistment to fight the Nazis, she joined the resistance as a nurse based on a contact someone had given her.

I know I can order to book on which the movie is based and Google her to find the answer to where God called Sister Luke.

How I wish it were all that easy to find my own answer


Can We Talk About Guns Now?

Since the Parkland shooting I have not blogged, though I have spoken out on Twitter.

But I haven’t written about this 18th school shooting since January because I don’t know what argument there is left to give to stop this madness.

If the death of 14 students and three school staff isn’t an argument in and of itself, what is?

If the fact that it’s the 18th time we’ve had a school shooting since the start of this year alone, what is?

If the fact that the GOP refuses to say the word “gun” in any way and accepts un-totaled millions in campaign contributions from the NRA ($30 million to Trump alone), then what argument can be made to outweigh those vast sums?

Apparently none.

It doesn’t matter that the weapon used was first created by the Nazis at the end of World War II with the specific intent to kill as many Allied Forces as quickly as possible.

It doesn’t matter that the Russians mass-produced their Kalashnikov version to such a degree the excess ended up in the hands of the N. Vietnamese and was a prime reason in our inability to gain traction in an intractable war.

It doesn’t matter that then Secretary of Defense McNamara ordered up our own version (the M16) and that despite having this weapon of mass destruction and its siblings, we are still mired in intractable war in Afghanistan, spreading into Africa.

It doesn’t matter that unless they are on the battlefield, soldiers only carry this weapon in training and that it is otherwise kept in gun lockers on military bases.

It doesn’t matter that this weapon is meant to blow bodies apart, not just stop an attacker.

It doesn’t matter because somehow the NRA has put a spell on the minds of its members that is so dark, no reasoning can overcome it.

It doesn’t matter that common sense background checks, sensible restrictions on those who should not have guns, reasonable licensing and required training do no more to impinge on the right to bear arms than they do the right to drive a car.

It. Just. Doesn’t. Matter.

Because the death of our children does not make the “agenda” of people like Marco Rubio, a sometime more moral arbiter in his party.  Oh, he alleged he may be willing to make semi-automatic weapons “less lethal” to lead to less loss of life.

I wish he had been asked at CNN’s Parkland Town Hall which among the 17 victims he would have then chosen to live.  He wasn’t.

But if raising the age to buy this weapon of war from 18 to 21 isn’t acceptable to the NRA, you can bet your bottom dollar restricting magazine capacity won’t be, either. (Let’s not even dare to mention banning a weapon that has no business in civilian hands.)

Its opposition would be less money from NRA coffers for any GOP and supportive Democratic politicians who dared talk about gun control and the fact that the “right to life” should be more cherished than gun ownership

It. Just. Doesn’t. Matter.

And that is profoundly depressing to me.  That the safety of our children to attend school and not have to worry about more than pop quizzes, who sat by whom at lunch and whether the football team will make the playoffs…

Just. Doesn’t. Matter.

Not to Marco Rubio ( at least, it doesn’t matter enough to him). Not to Congress.  Not to the President. Not to the NRA.  Not to the country.

So why should I write about Parkland when…

It. Just. Won’t. Matter.


The Gun Death of Innocence

I had planned to come home from Mass tonight and write about the incredible joy I felt at the honor of helping distribute ashes for Ash Wednesday tonight.

As it turns out, I was in such a rush to get to Mass, I had forgotten to turn off my TV. I knew there had been a school shooting in Florida, but I had seen a news scroll that had shown one dead.

At 9 pm, by the time I talked to friends after a long and crowded service and got some food to bring home for a late dinner, I walked in to hear there were 17 dead in the 18th school shooting  in the U.S. since the start of 2018 alone.

And my joy disappeared. All I could think of was the little babies and toddlers whose foreheads I had marked with the Sign of the Cross this evening. I don’t know any of their names ( we have a large, bi-lingual Church).  But I pray for all of them that they do not grow up to experience as teens what those students did today in Florida.

I saw so much innocence tonight at Church. And as the I-phone clips of the shooting and the interviews of the teachers, students and parents unfold across my TV screen,  I see the death of innocence too.

We can ask God “why.” But we also already know the answer. We love our guns too much. We value our privilege to own one far greater than we value human life. Our political machine loves the moneyed-oil of the NRA more than it cares about those victimized in our gun-obsessed society.

Bullets mean more than souls.

It is time for our elected officials, for gun fans, for all of us to ask – who in our society really needs semi-automatic and automatic rifles to protect their homes, to hunt animals in the woods? Just because we can have them, should we?

Why are we so afraid of thorough and complete background checks for the privilege of gun ownership if we have nothing to hide?  Why is it so inconvenient to wait a week or two to take possession of a weapon for that background check to be complete? I have waited longer to get a doctor’s appointment!

Why do we require people to take driving classes for the privilege of being on our streets, but not to carry a gun in public spaces?

Why do we allow people to carry those guns in a concealed manner so we don’t even know they have them?

We know these questions and we already know the sane answers to them.

Yet we let the insanity continue.

The real question is why we continue the insanity.





I Am Too Old for This, Aren’t I?

I am not sure why. I am probably the busiest I have been right now since my working days, and that is while traveling at half the speed of life I used to travel.

Maybe it is the lemming effect. Who knows.

But I have two friends-one younger and one older-than me who have had incredible luck on dating sites recently.

So I did something I told myself the other day I would never do again and joined one.

Not only have I never found lasting love on any dating site I have ever tried, I seem to be an especial target of scammers, be it a dating site, Facebook or even DM on Twitter.

I think I have already been hit up twice by a new form of this scheme on the dating site. Two different people have contacted me on behalf of others who are too shy to do it themselves but somehow they managed to see my picture and their friends want me to e-mail them privately. If anyone out there knows how these stories end, let me know, because I am not bothering to find out for myself.

If someone wants me to correspond, the least they can do is pony up the six-month service fee like I did.

I don’t know what I am expecting to find doing this:   A 60-year-old who doesn’t like golf, isn’t a successful something and hates walking on the beach with his non-athletic body? According to every profile I have read, he doesn’t exist.

They are all adventurous, romantic, honest, excellent communicators who love to travel, go to the theater, read voraciously, exercise daily and are looking for that “one special someone.”  No games please.

Sigh. I feel this may be another fool’s errand and I should have stuck to my resolve to be content on my own. I am afraid of giving up the dignity I have managed to gather these past few years after my last dating debacle.

It probably doesn’t help that the movie I was watching last night was about this English couple about to celebrate their 45th wedding anniversary with a party when he receives news that a woman he had been hiking with in the mountains 50 years ago and who had fallen in the fissure of a glacier has been discovered – her body preserved. And that he starts confessing things to his wife about the situation she never knew before. Like he was the dead woman’s next of kin, for starters. In fact, they were sorta married. It goes quickly downhill from there.

I have to finish watching the movie tonight to find out the ending. Somehow I have a feeling the disappeared woman’s plunge into the fissure will have been no accident.

Just think I will be hitting “skip” on all those profiles showing outdoor hiking and climbing photos going forward.

Maybe I need to put “alpiners and scammers need not apply.” Or some new warning on my profile like that.

Then again, there may be no one left to be matched with if I do that.

Sigh.  I have always hated dating.  It is such a tentative state to be in.

What was I thinking? Aargh! Has anyone seen Lucy lately? Is the doctor in?

I may need to have my head examined.