Eating Cold Spaghetti

 Sometimes I get ambitious and borrow too many books at once. Sometimes, I end up returning them before finishing or...starting them. I am hoping now is not one of those times.(although, I'm taking the time to write this instead of read... so time will tell)  Aside from the few simple just for fun books I'm sure to finish with ease, I have also borrowed The Story of a Soul by Saint Therese of Lisieux and The Seven Story Mountain by Thomas Merton. I really desire to read both, but they will take more time and thought than the other rather mindless books. I realized recently, that I have gotten in the habit of reading an autobiography or memoir here and there, because there is something really enriching about reading the lives of others. It doesn't matter if it's the life of a monk or saint(though, I do imagine there is much more to be gleaned from these), or a journalist with questionable morals - something can always be learned. And if nothing else, we may learn a lot

 My 8 month old daughter is almost walking and because of this I find books constantly being ripped from the bookshelf and anything on any table or shelf of her height is propelled to the floor as victims of her conquests( and her favorite place to get down and explore is our local library ... )  So, the other day, as I was picking up books for the millionth time, I was surprised by a poem I had written about month after the birth of my son as it fell out of the pages of some book. I had completely forgotten about it. I am always surprised when I find things I've written and cannot remember them, except maybe vaguely.  There's not much to it, but I figured it was worth sharing at least.  Completely full every muscle fiber stretched  completely  For life brand-new. Feel without fear push- release  receive this beautiful gift from within. Completely empty every fiber -muscles need filling  completely. With holiness accept- receive the gift from above. So, that was a poem on givin

There is a half melted cat in a box on top of my stove right now.  And as I write this, I'm suddenly reminded of a book I read a while back called "Welcome to the Funny Farm."  But, all joking aside, it is actually a collection of stories from a mom's life with a bit of a biblical message and a lot of laughs. I related as I read, and you might to if you are reading anything I write.  The particular story I recall had something to do with a dehydrated lizard in a bag on top of the woman's fridge, where our treasure is and the things we do for love. But back to the cat.  The cat is made of wax and is a terrifying candle that was "gifted" to my precious little 2 year old boy.  He treasures it and since it's a candle (and he loves fire..) we must keep it; even though I desired to throw away the minute I laid eyes on it. I mean, why? Who in their right mind wants to have a melting cat? I don't like cats much myself(or the idea of pets in general), but