These Are a Few of My Favorite Saints

So, it's Lent, and that usually makes me a bit more reflective on All Things Catholic and Why I Stay, even though I'm most likely on the far edge of ex-communication. Among the many reasons why I love Catholicism and stubbornly cling to the faith, even when some of the people make me want to scream and pull my hair out until I'm as bald as my dad and father-in-law, are the saints. In a word, the saints are simply COOL. And we have a saint for nearly everything, every occupation. For every situation in life, there is a saint we can turn to and ask for intercession, ask for that saint's help in petitioning God for whatever we need, whether it's searching for that lost set of car keys or brewing the perfect beer or simply making it through the day with the kids without calling in the men in the white coats to come take you away.



Here are a few of my personal favorite saints who hold an important place in my life:



St. Brigid of Ireland: I start with this saint of early Christian Ireland because I took it as my Confirmation name and consider her my primary Patron Saint. She was multi-talented. Among her many achievements, she opened art schools, brewed beer, opened monasteries, and gave away a lot of food and goods to the poor. Given my penchant for drinking and drawing, she's right up my alley! Why an Irish saint when I'm mainly of English and Cherokee descent? Why not? Besides, I've always admired the Irish spirit and tenacity.

St. Francis of Assisi: Among other things, he's the Patron Saint of animals. Considering that we currently count among the residents of our Funny Farm eight Siberian Huskies, two Shih Tzus, four cats, and two guinea pigs, St. Francis logically holds an important place in our family. Even he feels the burden of looking out for our gang at times, though. I've already been through two garden statues and am currently searching for another one...

St. Anthony of Padua: Patron Saint of Lost Items! When I was a kid, my mom used to say that if my head weren't attached to my body, I'd probably lose it. Things haven't changed all that much since I've grown up, and my kids have inherited this unfortunate trait from me. We are constantly asking St. Anthony to help us find lost jewelry, books, Rosaries, shoes, items of clothing, computer-related items, games. Needless to say, we are always making contributions to the poor box in gratitude. Yes, St. Anthony always comes through!

The Blessed Mother: I'm sitting here in my living room, and in this room alone, I see two portraits of St. Mary on my walls, a statue of St. Mary in the corner of the room, and in my curio cabinet, I have a whole shelf of figurines of Mary in her various manifestations, including the Lady of Guadalupe. I also have at least ten Rosaries, including the antique crystal one that my grandmother gave me on my wedding day--that is the one I carry in my purse and use most often when I pray the Rosary--an Irish St. Patrick's Rosary, one from Italy, one made by a parishioner at my church, one with different coloured beads for each decade representing the various continents--it's a pray for peace Rosary--and one dedicated to John Paul II's pontificate.

Now, keep in mind that I live in the middle of the Bible Belt and Catholics make up less than 4% of the population. A lot of the Protestants I encounter are open-minded and tolerant, but there are always going to be the exceptions, and I've met a few, even right here in my own neighbourhood. I've had service people come into my house to work on appliances or some such, and once they've caught sight of my "pagan" statues and portraits, they've treated me as a leper. Once while trick-or-treating with my kids, I was asked by someone where we went to church. When I told him, he actually took a step back, as if "Papism" were contagious. When I was younger, I was easily offended by such people and their ignorance. Now, I am merely amused. My humor and my saints help keep me grounded!

Um, Why Are You a WITCH?

Okay, so a few people, especially those fellow Catholics, may be wondering why the title of my blog is "The Witch of the Appalachians." The explanation is two-fold. It is a literary allusion, but primarily, it is a nod to my ancestry.

First, the literary allusion. In Byron's Manfred, the Faustian main character has an encounter with the Witch of the Alps. The Appalachians may not be quite as grand as the Alps, but we have our pride, okay?

As for my ancestry, no, I don't have any actual witches back there...that I'm aware of...but plenty women have been called that and probably other things, too. However, the one person I had on my mind when I came up with the title was Grandma Sally. She is my great-great-grandmother, and she was a Cherokee medicine woman. In a time when there were few to no physicians to care for the people and their medical needs in the mountains, she used her knowledge and skills, learned from the time she was able to walk and talk, to treat, heal, deliver babies, and care for the folks in the "hollers" and hills for miles and miles around. Because she relied upon extensive herbal lore, she gathered fresh plants and herbs and used her kitchen to hang and dry them. My dad remembers her from when he was a small boy, and he said that a lot of people, while respecting her knowledge, were also afraid of her, and whispered that she was a witch.

I spoke with other relatives who remember Grandma Sally, and they, too, said that many people whispered this very thing about her. She was not a gregarious, talkative, friendly person. She was introspective, serious, and when pushed, had the very Devil's own temper. One of her sons was shot and killed in a feud, and she would often grab her gun and threaten to go kill a member of the rival family in revenge, even years later. It would take several of her other sons to hold her down. After dark, members of that rival family stayed in their holler, for fear that the "witch" would curse them.

There are many other stories about her. The darling Czech Pecker says that every time he hears another story about Grandma Sally, he understands me a little bit more. Now, I wonder what he means by that?

American Girl, Atlanta, and Good Friends

Friday morning saw me heading down the highway, I-85, in my Native American mobile, kids in tow, toward Atlanta to meet up with my good friend Sunny and her girls at the American Girl Boutique and Bistro in Alpharetta, Georgia. The most dangerous part of driving was trying not to run off the road from laughing as Rebekah and J.P. played Mad Libs in the back seat.

We had a fabulous time at American Girl! Rebekah got a Just Like Me doll, and aside from the eye colour, she DOES look a lot like her. Let me tell you, this store is a pre-teen girl's crack pipe, and for this nearly 40 year-old mother--I was totally channeling my inner pre-teen girl. Dolls, accessories, clothes, books...they even have a hair salon for the dolls there! My son held up through it all manfully, and he even carried one of the bags. He's such a little gentleman--sometimes!

We had lunch at the Bistro, and we had a grand time, talking and laughing with friends. Sunny is a hoot. I feel like she's my separated sister or something! Her girls are darling. Being female, we had to all check out the bathroom, and we all oohed and aahed over the decor. Pink and chocolate coloured tiles on the floors and walls, sparkly tiles! Pink sparkly soap--Rebekah especially loved this one! The highlight of the meal for my son, however, was when Sunny's youngest daughter's doll lost her leg. Literally. She picked up the doll, and the tights fell off, along with the leg. J.P. fell over laughing. Everyone laughed, but J.P. was truly tickled!

The Boy was not forgotten in all of the Girl Frenzy. He got some Wii games from Gamestop, and a radio that has a flash light and cell phone charger. He got a bit perturbed when we went nuts in Sephora, but he managed. I also finally got the Vera Bradley tote with the Pink Elephants that I have been craving for a while now.

Back at the hotel, we continued our fun and hi-jinks. The kids watched movies, we texted with some of our fellow Heifers, and talked to some of them on the phone. At one point, Sunny and I were on the phone with our Heifer friend, Jess, and we were getting especially hysterical about Skye's legless doll, and some jerk in the room next to us decided to yell at us...except our kids were in the hallway going from her room to mine, and THEY were the ones he targeted. Sunny very diplomatically told him to go to Hell. No, she didn't use those words. She was very polite, but I think he wondered about her!

We made it back to South Carolina, and the darling Czech Pecker forgave me for spending his hard-earned money, as he always does. Hey...I work hard, too, as his adoring wife and mother to his spawns of Satan, don't I? I'm just sad that there is not an American Girl store locally. I would totally put in an application to work there. And proceed to spend my entire paycheck there, too.

The Sky is Falling

Maybe that's an exaggeration, but as I sit here and write this, there is a storm a'blowing out there. Ah, Spring is around the corner, it is. I'm sitting snug on my sofa, under my son's fleece John Deere blanket because my Kentucky blanket is in the dryer, dammit, with these two Shih Tzus huddled next to me like furry little rats. Scaredy cats. Kids are off to school, dropped off by the darling Czech Pecker, and the temptation to crawl back into bed and sleep for another hour or two is SO strong.

A few random thoughts for today:

The darling Czech Pecker is THE best husband in the world, even if I do plan our divorce at least once a month and get the urge to whack him across the head once a week. Please note: I never act on those urges.

I love my dogs, but why did they have to eat the taco kit yesterday?

My kids are funny and growing up to be smartasses just like their mom and dad. This makes me proud.

I am so excited about going to Atlanta on Friday with Rebekah to meet my friend Sunny and her daughters at American Girl and staying there Friday night to have a girls' night. I wish the other Heifers could join us.

I wonder how I should prepare that roast for dinner this evening?

They say I have ADD, but they don't understand. Oh look...there's a bird flying by my window!

I need to finish laundry. Not my favorite task.

It is nearly time to gather my courage and crawl out from under the blanket and face the work of the day. Such is the life of a Kept Woman!

My Sinless Son

Well, for a brief time he was, anyway. John Patrick and his classmates had their First Reconciliation on Thursday morning, and I would LOVE to have been a fly on the wall to hear the incredibly grave sins that these hardened juvenile delinquents had to Confess to the good Monsignor! As we parents sat there in the church, we watched child after child enter the room for Confession with looks of high anxiety on their faces and exit a few minutes later with large grins. We asked J.P. what he thought of it, and he answered, "It was fun!" Now, I never really thought of Confession as "fun," but it is certainly not the the hellfire and brimstone event that it used to be a generation ago. I went just two weeks ago, with the same priest, and it was a positive experience. If this same priest could make a 39 year old wife and mother feel better after the Sacrament, then he certainly could make a group of 2nd graders have a positive experience, and evidently he did.

Now, we are heading toward First Communion on April 13th! The next couple of months promise to be busy.

The dogs are acting like their usual canine selves. Yesterday, Skyy decided to slip out of her collar when we were getting out of the car after I took the kids to school. She took off like a bat out of Hell, and I was busy getting Mojo out of the car and walking him into the house. I called my mom and asked if Robert, my step dad, could help me chase the hyper Russian bitch down. As I was walking back out after I settled Mojo down, Robert called. Skyy had run straight up to my mom's house, about 1/4 mile away, and was standing by their fence when Robert walked outside, probably lured there by my mom's own pack of Siberian psychos, especially the males. See, I think Skyy is about ready to go into heat again soon. Oh joy. I told some friends that I think Prancer, my mom's Alpha Male, sends out a signal, kind of like the Bat Signal, in the sky, and my Skyy was answering it! Prancer is quite the studly Sibe with his striking red and white good looks, green eyes, and full mask.

Due to Skyy's super rowdy behavior, I have had to put my books out of her reach. Well, she's not the main culprit. Mojo is, with his puppy teething. I know that Byron loved his animals, too, but I really am not thrilled about my dogs trying to eat my Byron books. I do hope the poet, in his grave, understands the canine teeth marks marking his books.

I have one final remark this evening. Alchemy chocolate infused vodka is the ultimate sipping experience.

The Aliens Returned My Children

Well, really, I never expected that they would keep the little spawns of Satan, did I? The calm lasted until Tuesday, then they were back to arguing like siblings, and Rebekah was back to being a sassy pre-teen, and J.P. was back to being an 8 year-old boy with an attitude. Ah, life in the Lazurek Funny Farm!

I think, however, that there are vestiges of the aliens still hovering around our abode.

For one thing, the dogs...oh dear. They are even more wound up than usual. I have looked for signs. Is there a full moon? Is Mercury in retrograde? Is a meteor hurtling speedily toward Earth? I have looked at what they eat. No changes in what I feed them. Did they break into the wine cabinet? Are any coffee beans missing? Have they been sniffing the kids' glue sticks?

One thing is certain...I love my dogs, but I am not a happy camper when they try to eat my Byron books. You see, I love Byron. I have a bookshelf full of Byron related books--his poetry, the full collection of his journals and letters, literary criticism, history of his era, literary relationships between Byron and Shelley and Byron and the Irish poet, Thomas Moore, stacks of articles printed from literary journals. And my dogs have tried to eat some of the books. No, I am not thrilled.

They also snatched a couple of Shakespeare plays, including MacBeth and Titus Andronicus. Yes, I do see the irony of their cannibalistic attack on the latter.

It might be a tad difficult to build bookshelves suspended from the ceiling, and I have a feeling that, being the Huskies that they are, they would merely find a ladder.

In other odd happenings, the darling Czech Pecker actually bought me a dozen roses for Valentine's Day. Wow...who woud have guessed he possessed any romantic sentiments? "Romantic," with a small "r," is not generally a word that describes either one of us! For example, my gift to him was an autobiography of Eric Clapton. I'm thinking that he might be possessed by something. I'm not sure what...I will have to watch closely.

Oh, and I found another wine to try. Cat Among the Pigeons. Couldn't resist the name, of course. It's Australian.

The Pod People Have Stolen My Kids!

We went to the mall yesterday, an act that surely shaved at least ten years off my Purgatory. I purely despise the mall, especially on the weekend, but the kids needed some new shoes. After we struck out at a couple of other places, the darling Czech Pecker and I reluctantly trudged toward The Mall with all of the enthusiasm of French nobility toward the guillotine.

Kids Foot Locker was a painful experience. Crowded, did not have the sizes we needed. However, J.P. did come away with one pair of shoes. After a bit more searching, Rebekah found a pair. And then we grabbed a bite to eat.

Where do the Pod People come in, you ask? Throughout the entire afternoon, J.P. and Rebekah BEHAVED! They did not fight each other, they were huggy and kissy with the Czech Pecker and me, they did not fuss when we said we were there to buy shoes only and not a bunch of other things, like webkinz. We had some intelligent conversations with them, They were sweethearts.

This morning, when I took them to school, this behaviour continued. THAT is the scary part. My kids, especially my daughter, are not morning people. However, we left early enough to make a Starbucks stop where they chose some juice and banana loaf bread (Rebekah) and Vanilla pound cake (J.P.), and they chatted all the way to school. Again, no fussing with each other.

The aliens have surely landed. Stay tuned. This afternoon will be telling when I pick them up.