Happy Monday, dear readers!
It's been a whirlwind weekend. With Halloween having been on Saturday, Sunday's followup to the craziness was All Saints' Day. Since it was our week to go to the other church, we got dressed and went to Mass. It would have been uneventful except that the baby had a HUGE shitsplosion that happened when her diaper somehow shifted and basically led to her pooping all over the car seat, and on my pant leg when I took her out of the seat before I noticed the damage. I spent pretty much the entire second half of Mass cleaning up both myself and the baby, and while I was pissed about missing out half of Mass, I begrudgingly accepted that embarrassing incidents like this are just another part of parenthood. The shitsplosion was also a reminder to always carry a spare onesie in the diaper bag just in case of accidents.
Today was All Souls Day. In the Catholic Faith, this is the day to pray especially hard for the dead and those souls who escaped Hell and made it to Purgatory. My FB feed featured many an image of a flaming hand or prayer books with handprints burned into them, a reference to the purifying flames of Purgatory. Contrary to popular belief, Purgatory is NOT Hell with the flames on low. Purgatory is, in the words of my catechist priest, "God's hospital" where those who died in a state of Grace but not totally clean of sin go to get treated and cleansed before they can enter Heaven. Purgatory is described as being a place of suffering, but with the end result being able to enter Heaven and join the ranks of the saints and blesseds. The level of pain and duration of time spent in Purgatory varies, depending on the sins and how often (or not) people pray for or do good works on behalf of the deceased.
Though we would go to church later on in the day for All Souls Day, we first made a trip to a part of town I had not been to since 2007. My hubby applied to a trucking school located directly due east of where we live, and was due to meet today with the hiring manager to see if he would be an eligible candidate for their program. The trip there was not bad, since recent repairs to the road made it drive-able and despite its industrially isolated location, it was still within the city limits!
Alas, my husband turned out not to qualify for the trucking program due to some ongoing medical issues but because I came along with the baby, the whole office came out to admire her. While my hubby did not qualify, the manager encouraged me to apply once the baby was older. That way, I could take her with me when I went out on the routes. It's not an uncommon practice for long distance truck drivers to bring family members along for the ride. In fact, a neighbor of ours drove an 18-wheeler cross-country for 20 years and often took her children with her during their summer breaks or school holidays.
Since we so very rarely come out to this part of town, we decided to drive around a bit and check out the area. The Pima Air and Space museum and the Boneyard at Davis-Monthan AFB were the last places I visited on this side of town, and that was in 2007 when I came to Tucson to check out the University of Arizona for college. We passed both locations on our drive, and also both the Arizona State Penitentiary and the Federal prison. One thing we were glad to see out by the prisons were plenty of open scrubland, though it has shrunk significantly as the sprawl expanded. Provided that nothing catastrophic happens, I predict that within the next 20 years, developers will be building houses right up against the prison walls because the sprawl has encroached on so much desert. It happened in Chicago (see: Cook County Jail at 26th and California Ave), and I can see it happening here too.
After running some errands and making an emergency computer repair trip to our family friend's home, we went to church. It was a mercifully short Mass, since both the baby and I were pretty tired. The substitute priest for the vacationing Canon Bill this week was a Frenchman I'd previously met with an accent so thick I can barely understand him. Fortunately, the man realizes his thick accent makes understanding him difficult, so he keeps his Masses short. He's quite sincere and intelligent, as is evidenced by his quality Confessions and grasp of Latin. I do hope he gets sent to visit/assist our Latin Mass church more frequently. I like what I see in him as a priest, and would also like to get to know him better as any ordinary parishioner might.
And that is how I spent my Monday. Good night world!
It's been a whirlwind weekend. With Halloween having been on Saturday, Sunday's followup to the craziness was All Saints' Day. Since it was our week to go to the other church, we got dressed and went to Mass. It would have been uneventful except that the baby had a HUGE shitsplosion that happened when her diaper somehow shifted and basically led to her pooping all over the car seat, and on my pant leg when I took her out of the seat before I noticed the damage. I spent pretty much the entire second half of Mass cleaning up both myself and the baby, and while I was pissed about missing out half of Mass, I begrudgingly accepted that embarrassing incidents like this are just another part of parenthood. The shitsplosion was also a reminder to always carry a spare onesie in the diaper bag just in case of accidents.
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| Oh parenthood. Pic found here |
Today was All Souls Day. In the Catholic Faith, this is the day to pray especially hard for the dead and those souls who escaped Hell and made it to Purgatory. My FB feed featured many an image of a flaming hand or prayer books with handprints burned into them, a reference to the purifying flames of Purgatory. Contrary to popular belief, Purgatory is NOT Hell with the flames on low. Purgatory is, in the words of my catechist priest, "God's hospital" where those who died in a state of Grace but not totally clean of sin go to get treated and cleansed before they can enter Heaven. Purgatory is described as being a place of suffering, but with the end result being able to enter Heaven and join the ranks of the saints and blesseds. The level of pain and duration of time spent in Purgatory varies, depending on the sins and how often (or not) people pray for or do good works on behalf of the deceased.
Though we would go to church later on in the day for All Souls Day, we first made a trip to a part of town I had not been to since 2007. My hubby applied to a trucking school located directly due east of where we live, and was due to meet today with the hiring manager to see if he would be an eligible candidate for their program. The trip there was not bad, since recent repairs to the road made it drive-able and despite its industrially isolated location, it was still within the city limits!
Alas, my husband turned out not to qualify for the trucking program due to some ongoing medical issues but because I came along with the baby, the whole office came out to admire her. While my hubby did not qualify, the manager encouraged me to apply once the baby was older. That way, I could take her with me when I went out on the routes. It's not an uncommon practice for long distance truck drivers to bring family members along for the ride. In fact, a neighbor of ours drove an 18-wheeler cross-country for 20 years and often took her children with her during their summer breaks or school holidays.
Since we so very rarely come out to this part of town, we decided to drive around a bit and check out the area. The Pima Air and Space museum and the Boneyard at Davis-Monthan AFB were the last places I visited on this side of town, and that was in 2007 when I came to Tucson to check out the University of Arizona for college. We passed both locations on our drive, and also both the Arizona State Penitentiary and the Federal prison. One thing we were glad to see out by the prisons were plenty of open scrubland, though it has shrunk significantly as the sprawl expanded. Provided that nothing catastrophic happens, I predict that within the next 20 years, developers will be building houses right up against the prison walls because the sprawl has encroached on so much desert. It happened in Chicago (see: Cook County Jail at 26th and California Ave), and I can see it happening here too.
After running some errands and making an emergency computer repair trip to our family friend's home, we went to church. It was a mercifully short Mass, since both the baby and I were pretty tired. The substitute priest for the vacationing Canon Bill this week was a Frenchman I'd previously met with an accent so thick I can barely understand him. Fortunately, the man realizes his thick accent makes understanding him difficult, so he keeps his Masses short. He's quite sincere and intelligent, as is evidenced by his quality Confessions and grasp of Latin. I do hope he gets sent to visit/assist our Latin Mass church more frequently. I like what I see in him as a priest, and would also like to get to know him better as any ordinary parishioner might.
And that is how I spent my Monday. Good night world!
