Daily Life
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All Hallow’s Eve
I remember dragging shopping bags through the damp grass, bags filled with Halloween candy, praying that the bottom of the bag wouldn’t give way like it did on my cousin Debbie that one year, and how she lost all her candy in the weeds outside old lady Hutt’s house, and I didn’t care, because I never liked Debbie anyway. I remember wearing my costume to school, and how my breath condensed inside the cheap plastic mask, and how scary and powerful I felt when we prowled the streets in a mob of ten or twenty, back before the idea of vandalism or violence had ever crept into our minds. I…
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The Importance of Laura Wood
I wanted to encourage my readers to frequently visit The Thinking Housewife and to support Laura Wood’s work if possible. Since I began my oddball journey from joyless and confused Protestant to embracing the traditional Roman Catholic faith with enthusiasm and, yes, love, Laura Wood has been a steady, encouraging presence. She is one of three people who have helped me more than I can express, the other two being Father James Conner, a monk at Our Lady of Gethsemani Abbey in Bardstown, Kentucky, and the lady who hosts the superb website Fisheaters. The Thinking Housewife is one of those rare sites that, every time I visit, feeds my soul,…
- Daily Life, Holy Days, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, Photographs, Reflections, Saints
Something In The Air
We awoke to one of those days that couldn’t be more perfect for the Orr temperament if we’d sat down with a Weather & Scenery Catalogue and ticked off all the boxes for the Saturday we were ordering. A muted, witchy glow of cloud-shrouded afterthought of a sun, leaves layered like the scales of Jonah’s fish across the slippery skin of the mountain earth, the rain as fine as the mist at the produce section in the grocery store, the stillness and sacredness that churches and even libraries once had but will never have again. When I swung my legs over the bed and touched the floor, the Spotted Southern…
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Numbering The Stones
If you look carefully at the photo above, you will see a daddy longlegs in the upper left quadrant. I took this picture this past Saturday while Jinx and I were exploring in the little country cemetery near our farm. We were there explicitly to count the gravestones, something I had been meaning to do for some time. The gravestone itself is one of my favorites, the marker of a Jesse Lane, who served the Confederacy in a regiment from his home state. The stone is simple and dignified, like the ones at Arlington National Cemetery, and I usually touch it in passing. On this particular cool day, it radiated…
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Tones of Heaven
Mrs. Orr and I stumbled on this piece of music recently. We both sat and listened while watching each others’ faces. It’s an aching piece of chest-music, with a melody that makes me want to close my eyes and write a loved one, repent of a sin, stroke a dog’s ears, gaze at an old photograph, hold my wife close. The composer is Michael Hoppe, and he seems to be a very interesting man. This evening while acquainting myself with his work, I found Mr. Hoppe’s gorgeous Ave Maria. I’ve included it here for you. If I may presume to offer a suggestion for your evening prayers, look up the…
- Church Life, Daily Life, Dreams, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Lectio Divina, Prayers, Quotations, Reflections
Despair, Sleep, and Heavenly Mother
Bruce Charlton has posted a really good essay over at his blog, one of those posts that stopped me in my tracks. I commend it to you. I’ll include here the checklist Bruce wrote to assist in spiritual re-encouragement, and then a couple of thoughts. 1. Reality is ultimately created by God – and continually being-created by God; and I participate in this creation (as a sub-creator) insofar as the world is understandable to me. I look around and remind myself of this. 2. The world is Not dead, mechanical or random; the world is alive and conscious: this is a world of beings. Every ‘thing’ is actually a being, or part…
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Spanking Clean
Got home and got the spotted menace into the bathtub. I won’t describe the barking, whining, frantic, scrambling details. I will only express gratitude. Gratitude that the mix of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and Dawn dish soap worked to remove the skunk-stink. And gratitude that it’s over. Until the next time Jinx decides the black cat with the white stripey tail is just soooooo cute and irresistable. Farm life. Jinx life. Here we are. Praise Christ for another day. ~ S.K. Orr
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Hoist By His Own Inner Retard
Mrs. Orr reported that when she let Jinx outside this morning, he was full of zest: bounding around, leaping, grinning, eager to get outside. I got up shortly after she did and after pouring a cup of coffee, I went to see if Jinx was ready to come inside and eat his breakfast. He was, and he trotted through the door and into the dining room. And that’s when it hit me. “Could you come here a sec? I think I smell something.” I called to my wife. She poked her head around the door. “Oh, no,” she said. Skunk. Majorly. Ah, hell. This is going to be a very…
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Intact Routine
Yesterday was one of the most perfect days I can remember. When we awoke, a cool front had blown in and it was raining steadily. After feeding the dogs, my wife started breakfast (breakfast burritos from scratch…just one more element in a perfect day) and I took the spotted menace out for a soaking ramble through the hills. The mist was curling like Fafnir’s breath, silver and sinister, reaching into hidden places erupting from black chasms in the slick rock. We padded along, Jinx’s paws making a curious leatherlike sound on the wet leaves. We walked and looked and stopped and gazed and strolled and smiled — yes, Jinx smiles…
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I, Too, Want To Encourage Brandon To Go
You’ll probably never again see me recommend a television show, but in this instance, I must. Last night’s opening monologue on Tucker Carlson’s show was gold. The mockery was so thick you could spackle with it. It was as if Tucker asked The Babylon Bee to write his teleprompter notes. This is perhaps the best way to address what’s going on in this world. The devil cannot tolerate being laughed at. ~ S.K. Orr