Monkling's Blog

Why did the milk truck I saw this morning say “real” on the side? Is there fake milk?

Why did every single one of my preset car radio buttons have stations that were not playing music? Do all DJs decide to talk all at the same time?

Why did my daughter just volunteer to store the sorority chariot at our house until next year’s Greek Week?

Why is it going to be in the high 80s this weekend? Whatever happened to the 70s? Are we skipping straight over them?

We’re back with yet another handy little gardening tip.

If you do manage to get all those little baby plants in those tiny little paper cups all safely planted into the ground, there is an additional precaution you must take if you have any sort of animal or live anyplace where are any sort of animals. You see, animals may not know you just planted those little babies. Some animals, with huge feet and ears the size of Dumbo, who are also hard of hearing, will not hear when you yell at them. No, they will just go on ahead and trample all the freaking baby plants you nurtured from seeds and carefully just planted. They will stomp on your parsley. They will kill your dill. They will destroy your lavender.

Yes, the dumb, lumpy, old dog who will be 14 in a few shot weeks, roamed right through my newly planted herbs and vegetables. He is lucky that I have decided to let him live to see another birthday. I have started putting up barricades, while singing the barricade song from Les Miserables. If, in spite of my barriers, he manages to kill off my few remaining plants, his days on this earth are numbered…

Here’s a little tip for all you beginning gardeners out there. If you can’t find your 3″ peat moss pots to start your seedlings in, it may not be a good idea to substitute with 3 oz. paper cups.

If you are stupid enough to go ahead and use those little paper cups, which, by the way, aren’t really good for much other than their original purpose – to spit out toothpaste water, do not use a permanent marker to write on the cups what it is you planted in there.

In spite of the word “permanent” being part of the name, they’re really not. The writing will fade, especially on a soggy, water soaked tiny little paper cup that is now filled with dirt and a baby plant.

That will mean that, while you can clearly tell which plants are the tomatoes and which are the broccoli, you will not be able to figure out which are the cherry tomatoes and which are the plum tomatoes.

If you were planting a big garden with lots and lots of plants, it might be a bit of a fun surprise. Just plant everything and see what grows. However, when you have a small vegetable plot and only plan on actually planting 2 plum tomatoes and 1 cherry tomato plant, that can be a bit of a dilemma.

As it turns out, I guess I am growing a surprise vegetable garden this year. On the other hand, if I can’t keep dumb, deaf dog out of my tomatoes, I’m not going to get to eat any anyway. Therefore, it may not really be all that important.

I had forgotten that American Idol originated in England. No doubt because I don’t even watch the show. When we saw Carrie Underwood in Nashville, Louie & I had no idea that’s where she was from.

Anyhow, I found a link to this in my email this morning & it’s too good not to share. Unfortunately, it’s such a popular clip that I can’t embed it here. You have to go watch it on You Tube.

47 year old Susan Boyle singing a song from Les Les Miserables (Dave’s favorite musical). I guess you can still be a star, even when you’re in your 40s.

As we usually do, we attended the Easter Vigil tonight. In some ways, this Easter Vigil was special. Our parish built a new Church and it was the first Easter Vigil in the new Church. We also have a newly ordained priest assigned to our parish and this was his first Easter Vigil as a priest.

For those you unfamiliar with this particular Mass, it starts out with the priests & deacons starting a fire in the entrance to the Church. A few days ago, I saw our parish’s Plant Manager carrying the uh… no clue what it’s called and I said, “Oh! It’s the fire thingie!” You’d think the mother of a seminarian would know the proper term for it.

When you go into the Church for the Easter Vigil, it’s dark. Mass started at 8 but we got there early. It was still light out but as it the time crept towards 8, you could see the light through the stained glass windows fade. It seemed like someone was outside hitting a dimmer switch.

It’s late so I’m tired and all over the place tonight. Remember a while back I said I was asked to write something about being the parent of a seminarian for a new website our diocese was preparing to launch? It’s now live. If anyone is interested in checking out the website, use the email link to contact me & I’ll send you the url.

Yes I did initially have that information here but it revealed way too much – our last name, our parish… I don’t want that stuff posted here for the entire world to see but I’d be happy to share it via email.

First, let me say (in case anyone wanders in here who doesn’t know me and thinks I am completely insane) that I am not in any way diminishing the seriousness of the earthquake in L’Aquila, Italy. It was a horrible tragedy and my prayers are with the people affected by it.

That being said, it is time to move on to my son and our conversation today. (Luckily, he does not read my blog.) He said he was woken up early yesterday morning when the bed shook. His bed is lofted. He had no idea what was going on so he decided to sleep on the couch after that, not being too anxious to be on the bed if it collapsed.

He went all through the day with whatever it is seminarians do when they are off from school and planning a trip. It wasn’t until today that he found out it was an earthquake.

Me: “How could you have no clue it was an earthquake?”
Him: “It’s not like I have a TV in my room.”
Me: “It was all over the Internet.”

Apparently he doesn’t read the news online. Nor in the Italian newspapers, for that matter.

We spoke a bit about his upcoming trip to Ireland, where he will spend Easter & stay for a little over a week. Then he signed off and went to have dinner. A few hours later, he signed back on and IMed me again.

“We were at dinner, talking about the earthquake. Suddenly the table started shaking. I thought it was one of the guys screwing around until I looked up and saw the lights shaking.”

Those must be some powerful aftershocks if they can feel them 70 miles away in Rome. He is quite glad to be leaving tomorrow and hoping the earth will have settled down by the time he gets home.

Then he tells me how there’s a fault line that runs throughout Italy. That way I can have something to be concerned about for the next 4 years…

Today I have become a hostage negotiator. The hostage? Well I can’t show you that but let me show you his twin who, thankfully, is still here and unharmed:

WiiOne’s brother, WiiTwo, was kidnapped and is now being held for ransom. I did not receive a ransom note. This kidnapper is clever. She knew a note could be traced back to her. No, I received a phone call from the kidnapper.

“If you ever want to see WiiTwo alive again, you will leave your house at exactly 6 p.m. You will drive to Garden City. Make sure you are not followed. Once there, you will see an ice cream store. You’ll recognize it by the crowd of college students hanging around inside and out.

Go inside the ice cream store. Buy some ice cream and then put the rest of your money into the big glass jar with the sorority name on it. Then, and only then, will your WiiTwo be returned to you.”

Oh, will the horror never end? Can you imagine being forced to buy ice cream and make a donation to charity in order to pay off a kidnapper?

Or should that be a remote-napper? No, that sounds like someone who is napping remotely. A controller-napper? No that sounds like some public official. Toynapper?

I am not, nor have I ever been in one. I am, however, learning quite a lot about… well not sororities but about college aged girls. Yep, quite a lot. For instance, tonight I learned:

1. 40 or so girls in a house can up the temperature by about 30 degrees. (That would have come in handy a month or 2 ago when it was below freezing!)

2. Girls are loud. (Well I already knew that but it was confirmed. Strongly.)

3. I am much better off not knowing what goes on in sorority life. There is a reason they have their secrets.

4. My daughter has an entirely new family tree with bigs, grand-bigs, littles and grand-littles. I’m not quite sure what that makes me. Somehow I suspect I probably don’t want to be on that family tree.

Steve wasn’t in a fraternity. He was, however, a Basselin. You wouldn’t think something having to do with seminarians would be anything like a fraternity, would you? Well we’re not talking Animal House but they did have their traditions.

These were all alluded to, the traditions. I have no real information. All I know is one time Steve came home during a school break with an enormous crucifix. He said something about being the guardian of it or some such role. I never saw such a dusty, dirty crucifix in my life so I had to clean it. I bet those Basselins never saw it looking so good as when Stephen brought it back.

Junior year for Theresa is winding down. Whatever will I do for entertainment when she’s all done with college?