You better believe I’m up for little more than cultivating reading lists at this point in the week. But what a list it will be, I promise.
Please tell me y’all watched the GOP debate last night? It was, in sum, a sh%tshow featuring various near-bar fights and some cringe-worthy moments for even such an ego as the Donald’s. Speaking of the man with the hair, a family “Whats app” chat session during the debates last night (my family of origin is rabidly political) quickly devolved into hilarity when “trump supporter” was misread by Siri and reincarnated as “Trumpstaporter,” which was then turned into a meme involving the horrible family dog in short time. Moral of the story? Don’t be a Trumpstaporter.
1. But last night, overall? Great television. I’m tapping Rubio and Paul as the winners of the debate with Carson a close second. I really, really like Ben Carson. But I’m not sure he has the steely nerves and the big, bold personality necessary to stand against the Hillary machine and the media scrutiny. I also think he may just be too good for us, on the whole (and in a rare-ish move, I agree wholeheartedly with Matt Walsh). The average American voter may not be smart or moral enough to appreciate his strength of character or intellect. Or maybe I’m just a jaded Denverite who listens to too much NPR, and people are actually more decent than that.
2. I really thought this baby was coming last night. Busted out the timing app and everything and for 4 hours they were getting stronger and harder and closer. And then I crawled back in bed “just to rest” a minute before calling Grandma for middle-of-the-night childcare backup, and…I fell asleep. Until 7 am. Womp womp. I blame this, which I’m now realizing may be the reason we’ve false-alarmed every single time so far. So maybe the fact that I didn’t go anywhere except to sleep last night was a huge advancement in my pregnancy skills level. Maybe. At any rate I am making great advancements on my Purgatory pay down plan.
3. I’ve never, ever read a compelling pro abortion argument. Until I read this one. Leave it to Jen Fulwiller to reconcile two adversarial world views. Her brain really is a national treasure (as is her amazing hair).
4. I really love St. John Vianney, maybe because I think Vianney would be an adorable (though not on our current list) girl’s name, or maybe because he spent 18 hours a day in the Confessional and signed a petition his parishioners were circulating to get him kicked out of his own parish, but his self sacrifice and humility and holiness under the most unlikely conditions have forever endeared him to me. One of my dearest friends wrote this piece in honor of his feast day earlier this week.
5. Do you read “Tales of Me and the Husband?” She and her family are on the first leg of a multi-month tour of Italy with kids, and I’m having rose-colored flashbacks and drooling over her beautiful photos. But when the envy gets too hot, I click open my accuweather app and check the temp in Rome and then, poof, I’m utterly charmed once again by American suburbia. (For now, at least. I may have my hopes pinned on an autumn sojourn to La città eterna c/o Dave’s work responsibilities and some frequent flier miles, so this wee bambino/a will be acquiring a passport bright and early upon exiting, just like the rest of our crew has.)
Happy weekend to you and yours, and remember to toss a Rosary heavenward tomorrow in honor of St. Dominic. Pray specifically, if you would, for some baby friends who need massive healing: little unborn Gabriel Thompson and baby Sebastian.