Catalysts

          That first paycheck felt really good, especially since I am going to pay my loan off after posting. I am eating French Silk Pie, the Cook's Country recipe, and it is so good.
          Brittany is expecting. For some reason it makes me so happy to think about, I guess because she is the first close friend who has had a baby. Well, who will have a baby, God willing. It reminds me of how much I have to be thankful for. When I think of all the people who are burning their children and throwing them in the trash, of how miserable I could be, if I did not have such amazing parents. It is a depressing thought, but also extremely uplifting. There is so much that I have that a fraction of people in the world have. It was not an exaggeration when the children of Fatima said that souls were falling into hell like snowflakes. I look around me at all the blank faces that have no joy in them, because they have no grace. I can be sad about the reality of this bleak world, but I have to be happy for those blank faces and try to inspire them to think on something eternal, even if for a moment. And I have to be joyful for myself. Every moment that i can I have to say thank you to Him for every grace and every happy moment. Most importantly for my family. They are the rock I stand on, sitting steady in the earth that is Christ.
        

Time Flies

      I cannot believe it is already the end of June! This month flew by. I am sitting on my bed on a gorgeous sunny Sunday. Father gave his sermon on the compassion of the Sacred Heart. It was a great pick me up for the end of June. Feast of St. Peter and Paul on Wednesday!! Sadly I probably won't be able to go to mass, as I have to go to the dentist that morning. Ugh.
     So of course, right when I get in a sort of groove of exercising and blogging and getting my life together, I have to work two double shifts two days in a row, and the whole great plan, and attitude completely goes out the window. But thankfully I think I have been able to bounce back. I just got back from a run, and it went even better than the last one. And after I finish this post, I am going to tackle a bit of yoga I think.
       My sister has gone and done a horrible thing, and become addicted to Downton Abbey. Anyone who reads this take it as a warning! Avoid this mistake at all costs! Psyche is bad enough!
       I am off to work tonight as a favor for a coworker, and for once, even though it is Sunday, I am actually kind of looking forward to it! I don't know why. Probably because I really don't have anything better to do, and I am getting my first paycheck tomorrow.
       To conclude, I leave this blog with the pasta recipe that I made for a friend's wedding. I personally catered it, and it was a great experience and turned out awesome!

Heat: 1 cup cream and 1 cup milk over low to medium heat
Turn heat to low
Add: 2 cups good quality parmesan cheese
Wait till it melts, whisking carefully
Add: 1 tblsp. all purpose flour.
Whisk until all lumps are gone
Take off the heat
Add: 1 tsp chili flakes ( or any amount you prefer )
1/4 cup rinsed sundried tomatoes
1 tsp garlic powder
lots of salt and pepper

Mix with one pound cooked pasta and enjoy!! Feel free to add chicken or sausage!
This is my own personal recipe, so please refer people to this blog if you want to share!

Summer Starts

          Something I have realized in the past couple of days: whenever someone makes a bad life decision, it is usually those closest to them, and not the actual person, who get hurt the most. This is a conviction that has sprung simply from personal experience on both sides of the matter. And once I realized it, it made me really want to not do anything stupid that will make others feel worse than me.
          There are times when no one can fix a hurt that is inside you, when there is no one you can talk to who will understand why you just want to weep for a week straight. Times when only a talk with God will suffice. And those times are usually times of hurt. When something is ripped away from you without any warning, or any replacement- so that there is just a gaping whole in your soul. Only God's love can fill those holes. I have to keep telling myself that, or I will wallow in sadness, in every sense of the word.
         9 months ago, I said that I would be posting on my new blog every day. That obviously turned out really well, but I am determined to give it another shot. Which is why I am here, putting down some more reflections for the beginning of the summer, if only to make myself seriously contemplate something not totally superfluous.
        Here's to new beginnings!!

Father's Day

Dear Dad,

        I thank God that the older I get, the more I love, understand and appreciate you. Thanks to you, our family grows in unity, strength and love every year. It is by your example that I am driven to love God more, not only because he gave me such an amazing father, but because every day I see how much you love Him. It really is a minor miracle that you have survived raising five strong-minded and opinionated girls without bashing a couple of our heads in, or maybe your own, though I sense that maybe you have contemplated this before. You surprise me every day with your kindness, probably because this is one of your traits I have yet to notice in myself.
      But what I love the most about you Dad, is how much you love Mom. She knows what I mean. Its the little gestures that make all the difference, like how you bring her coffee every morning no matter what, or how you will go get her floss no matter how comfy you are. Every morning I hear you creaking down those steps, I have to smile, because I am so happy to have you for my Dad.
      You teach bratty children all day and then come home and work on your land. You built this house and cultivated this property so that your kids could grow up happy and healthy. You gave me the most important thing in my life besides Catholicism: music.
      There is no proper way to thank you. For everything. But there is one sure way: to see you in Heaven. And I am sure I speak for all of us kids when I say that that is what I intend to do. Otherwise all your sacrifices are worthless. And that is the most heartbreaking thought of all.
      I almost wish all the kids in the world could have you as a dad, but then I would have to share you, and it is hard enough with the six of us already.
       I love you Dad. Thanks for taking care of Mom and us. Thanks for never giving up, no matter what. All I can do is pray for all of the blessings God can spare to be saved for you guys. I hope your day is perfect, and that you grow happier every moment. I love you both so much more than I have every shown you, and I am going to start changing that right now.

Sophie Ann

The Beauty of a Scent

      This past Holy Saturday Dad walked in from a shopping trip with one lily and a bag of groceries. I was disappointed and asked if the lilies were really expensive this year. Dad said yeah, we could only afford one, and I nodded sadly. We were to have the pleasure or smelling only one lily plant this year.
      Then he came in a couple of minutes later with two more! I couldn't believe it!
      It isn't just their pearly white color and soft symmetrical shape that make lilies one of the most beautiful flowers. It is that amazing fantastic smell, that seems to fill your mind with thoughts of peace and tranquillity. A smell that betokens hope and puts a smile on your face.
      One could even argue that the smell of any flower is really more important than the look, at least for the classics. Yes, all flowers are beautiful, but it is the ones that smell that have become famous. In the words of Shakespeare: "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." There is something mysterious about the scent of a flower. It seems to come from nowhere, yet it permeates everywhere.
      Scents have long been known to be extremely helpful in creating memories. We can recall a scent from pretty much anywhere. If one has smelt it before he will recognize it, even if he cannot place the memory exactly. Just the other day my Mom came downstairs ready to go out. The smell of her perfume immediately brought me back to my childhood. She has had that same perfume my whole life. It brought me back to dozens of special occasions when she would come out of her room all dressed up, and the scent of her perfume would make me smile and get excited. I love that smell. It means comfort to me. Perhaps if she had never worn it, if I smelled in a store without the background of my memory, I would hate it. Who knows? Smells are embedded in our memories.
       This subject was brought to my mind now, in May, because it is the month of the lilacs. Our property grows literally dozens of bushes, and just yesterday, Mom brought in a big bunch and put them in a vase on the table. The house is filled with their glorious scent. Though there are some people who dislike the scent of a lily, I have never met anyone who sneered at a lilac's smell. It is sweet, but not sickening, aromatic, but not overwhelming, subtle, but not fleeting. The lilac is truly the queen of may-time for us.
       These reflections, as well as a recent stint of conversation with an artist friend of the family, led me to the question: can a scent be called beautiful? Usually men speak of beauty in reference to art, and as existing in a material thing. We normally sense beauty through sight, whether in a piece of art, another human being, or nature, or through pure ideas, like when we say that someone has a beautiful character. In that case, we use powers of communication and reason to decide. But what about smell? Does it fall in one of these categories? I have always stood by the definition that beauty is the harmony of order. And I suppose it is in the order of nature that a flower smells. But the smell itself, the actual sensation of smelling, is that something beautiful? We can see beauty. Can we smell beauty? One could argue that a smell is beautiful because it is in nature's order to come from that thing. But what about artificial smells? Are they then out of the category?
        And then there is the problem of the smell that is distasteful, but still part of nature. Mold for instance, is a perfectly natural thing, especially in something like cheese. But there are few who find it pleasant to smell. Or sweat, to go slightly grosser. Again, it is perfectly natural, but not usually considered a pleasant smell. Notice, we usually refer to smells as pleasant or not, not beautiful.
       So it seems nature can't automatically make a smell beautiful. But some scents do partake in that harmony of order that is universally appealing. Some scents are good, others bad, for most people. On the other hand, like in art, there is something very subjective in perceiving what is a pleasant smell. Memories and past experiences will play a big hand in that.
      Well perhaps more contemplation will unshroud this mystery, but in the meantime, it is an interesting and intriguing question.

A Day of Hail and Sun

Softly the heads of flowers poke

From underneath the soggy ground.

They do not fear the March time smoke

Or springtime rains; they make no sound.

The buds on trees are white and red,

The grassy shoots are green and bright,

The newborn fawns and rabbits tread

With gentle paws, hidden from sight.

Yet on occasion, from the trees,

They venture forth with cautious glance.

The gardens and the orchards please

Their eager mouths: they take their chance!

Then just as quick, with urgent hops

To shaded grove they scanter back:

To gather up their first young crops

The men have come with pail and sack.

But we have jumped ahead of time!

Tis not midsummer yet, I think!

The sun has not prolonged her climb

Nor yet have buds had their first blink.

The hail and sun trade places still,

While gray clouds gather and disperse.

The sunset streaks across the hill

And golden rays the trees immerse.

From their deep dens coyotes cry

And elk wander over the field.

As darkness mingles with the sky,

Grandly the full moon is revealed.

So spring’s soft night engulfs this land

Of simple homes, of one small town;

Offers her sweet, nurturing hand

To birth again what men have sown.

By Sophie Saurette

Reflection; 3rd Week of Lent

His sorrows are immense; they reach beyond
The mind of man to deep within Divine
Realities. God takes the sinner's bond
Upon Himself -offers His Son, the fine
Of man's eternal bliss. What cold, hard hearts
Who pass Him by, unnoticed on the road
To Calvary! Surely their conscience smarts
Who still insist in sin! But no! They goad
Each others' souls to greater depths. Meantime
His tears fall unavailing on the the ground
Of Olivet. One other heart, sublime
In its pure love, one with His pain, is found:
His Mother, to whose hurt the sea's abyss
Is but a raindrop -one, small, ocean's kiss.