He got in!

Last year Alan applied to the PhD program at Ave Maria in Florida. I thought he was a shoe in. No one reads as much as my husband, I proudly (arrogantly) thought, and no one makes better use of what he learns. We visited the school, we waited for the letter, I saved a Red Lobster gift certificate from Christmas for the expected celebration dinner.

But the school was having all sorts of problems and there were doubts he'd accept even if he was admitted. Still, when the rejection letter came I was angry. What a slap in the face, I thought. And then there were the months of seemingly endless speculation-- was it his essay, his statement, his interview? What had gone wrong? We put the idea of year round sunshine out of our heads and Alan planned for the next round of applications.

It was harrowing! Instead of one school, one place to think about it was five or six. There was a trip to South Bend, to Dayton, to DC. There was the day of his GREs when Alan left his ID at home and Lucy and I made the trip to Lexington during rush hour in our friend's SUV, skidding on ice and listening to "Paper Planes," to get it to him. Then the letters being sent off and the waiting, waiting, waiting while I admittedly thought "better him than me."

Then yesterday Alan came in with the mail. He handed me a letter and said "Read this." I saw Catholic University of America, saw the word accepted, saw the fat packet of papers in Alan's other hand. I was ecstatic! All his hard work and praying has amounted in admission into a good PhD program. There are other letters to wait for but no matter what happens next at least I know he has a place to study and that one way or another we will be moving this summer.

These moments are the icing on the cake of marriage, when you get to see the person you love grow and flourish. I am proud of Alan and excited about all that still lays ahead of us.

When Gentle Women Used to Knit

Jane Brocket tucked this poem into her book "The Gentle Art of Domesticity." It is by Robert Service.

Winding Wool

She'd bring to me a skein of wool
And beg me to hold out my hands;
so on my pipe I cease to pull
And watch her twine the shining strands
Into a ball so snug and neat,
Perchance a pair of socks to knit
To comfort my unworthy feet,
Or pullover my girth to fit.

As to the winding I would sway,
A poem in my head would sing,
And I would watch in dreamy way
The bright yarn swiftly slendering.
The best I liked were coloured strands
I let my pensive pipe grow cool . . .
Two active and two passive hands,
So busy wining shining wool.

Alas! Two of those hands are cold,
And in these days of wrath and wrong,
I am so wearyful and old,
I wonder if I've lived too long.
So in my loneliness I sit
And dream of sweet domestic rule . . .
When gentle women used to knit,
And men were happy winding wool.

Some Flannery

Here is a bit of wit from "Greenleaf," a story I recommend:

"She thought the word, Jesus, should be kept inside the church building like other words inside the bedroom. She was a good Christian woman with a large respect for religion, though she did not, of course, believe any of it was true."

She is still my favorite famous (devout) Catholic at this point; my regrets to Alfred Hitchcock and Richard Simmons, though they tie for a close second.

Knitting, Glorious Knitting

Ah, the benefits of nesting. Both Alan and I are going through that phase of a pregnancy when you want everything clean and organized. If only this would last! I've been knitting up a storm again as well. Lucy was welcomed into the world with a quilt, knitted toys, hats, socks-- it is only fair that baby #2 receives the same. Her little basket of homemade things is quickly filling up.

Several kind friends have been nice enough to humor me about knitting as well: I've taught half a dozen people to knit in the last couple of weeks and though my teaching skills have grown rusty they still managed to learn well enough. A few are already well on their way to whipping out scarves!

There is something meditative about the needle arts once you get into them: the continuous loops of knitting, the cheerful rhythm of crochet, the neat little x's of cross stitch all provide a tattoo that can call you back to the world of thought and contemplation. Rosary beads made much more sense to me after thinking about them this way-- while there is nothing in the beads themselves the moving of hands and repetition of prayers has the ability to transport your mind and spirit to another place. Now if only I prayed the Rosary as much as I knitted! Perhaps I will become more disciplined and learn to pray while I knit. Any holy needlecrafters out there with advice on the topic?

Note: If you have a chance, check out this thoughtful post from my grandpa.

Lost Lost the Lost and Lost

Humor me, please. Here is a selection of songs pertaining to Lost from my personal Grooveshark collection. You will find songs from the show and other tunes about being marooned, eating coconuts, repeating time over and over again. There is a little Steely Dan shout out to Mr. Shepherd at the end, too.

If you haven't already you should go to ABC and watch the clips from tomorrow's show (they are definitely spoilers!). The teaser for the season is worth watching too-- just click the link and two clips then the teaser should play.

Hurley to Sayid: "Hey, man. You gonna
put the lime in the coconut, drink 'em both up?"