Interesting Blog I Happened Across...

Catholic Churches of Manhattan - in which a young man named "Andrew the Sinner" has set himself the interesting, nay fascinating, task of attending Mass at all 96 Catholic parishes in Manhattan. He takes pictures and shares his thoughts about each, along with other reflections.

Interestingly, back in January when the Princess and I went on our day trip to NYC to shop for shoes and other Big Dance essentials, we snagged a cab at Bryant Park and went down to Canal Street, trolled Chinatown, turned the corner and had a fabulous lunch at one of the innumerable restaurants in Little Italy, and meandered our way all the way back up to Times Square. We stopped and looked around at Old St. Patrick's Cathedral (odd name for a church Little Italy, we agreed), which is one of Andrew's more recent stops.

Worth a visit to his blog - enjoy!

A breath of fresh air...

...did a day trip to NYC yesterday to do some high school dance shoe shopping and perhaps snatch up some same-day tickets to see a show. But once we hit the ground, the Princess and I decided against the show. We hit Canal Street, lunched in Little Italy, meandered up through Nolita, went to a small historic museum (Old Merchant's House on 4th St.) and gradually hoofed our way back up to Times Square, snacking, striking shoe and costume jewelry gold and chatting the whole way.

After the deep freeze hit here last week, it was actually in the 20's and a light snow started in the late afternoon...increasing in perfect step with our foot fatigue and desire to get back to Broadway and meet up with our group of friends (we charter a nice touring bus a few times a year to get the heck out of obscurity for awhile). It was so beautiful, though. The city was humming, there was just enough fresh snow for it to look clean and inviting, and then...it was back to the bus. And to a big house near a brook, slightly north of nowhere.

Helo Mom will be back after pondering the imponderables of the teenage psyche...and after a day of centering prayer and self-imposed zero media tomorrow.

The Jackals Are Out

Not surprisingly, scammers are already out there selling "tickets" to The One's inauguration on January 20th, thereby demonstrating that the spirit of capitalism may well survive the next four years.

Me, well, you won't find me within short-range missile distance of Obamagrad* on January 20th. I will be in NYC spending my money on other forms of theatre.

* All it takes is an Executive Order, friends....lol!

In Remembrance - Patriot Day

Today is September 11, 2008.

Manhattan

The Pentagon

Flight 93 in Shanksville, PA

Seven years since we awoke to terror hitting us squarely in the face, at home - and all three locations became home to us all.

Those 19 homicidal maniacs and their sponsors caught our country with its pants down. Never again.

Where were you?

Where I Was.

The Beloved, kids and I had just returned to our home in San Diego, fresh from a 30-day leave, visiting family and househunting in NY - he'd just submitted his retirement package the day before we left town. He decided to head in to Miramar a little bit early (0500) to catch up on paperwork. A little after 0600, he called me, told me to wake up and turn on the news.

.

"We're under attack, babe."

.

I flipped on the TV just in time to see the second plane hit the WTC. We both cried out in disbelief and sat, riveted, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Then the first tower fell.

.

"Oh no. Oh my God, no...oh, dear God..."

.

I could tell he was choked up and not able to say more. That alone made me start to cry. At first I didn't quite understand. Selfishly, I thought maybe he was worried that he'd be deployed someplace. (That came later). But no, his anguish was not about him, or us.

It was about them. His brother firefighters. He knew instantly that many brave men were storming those buildings, going in while everyone else was running out, trying to help, to rescue, to give aid and comfort. And he knew a lot of them were not going to make it home.

As the next few, surreal days wore on, we remained stunned but did our best to resume our daily lives. The news in San Diego was grim, between the Navy and Marines who we knew would be heading out to fight enemies as-yet unknown, and as experts warned that a chemical attack on San Diego would be so easy...a boat full of poison, an onshore flow...for the first time in my life, I was scared of forces and things I could not see. I was depressed, scared for my family and for my country. But I was also in the midst of expert depositions a big construction defect case 63 miles from home, up in Temecula, CA. So I had to leave home at dawn each day, wondering if the Beloved and girls were going to be safe. Then, in the middle of a very contentious exchange (it was me for the plantiffs vs about 15 defense attorneys who were piling on every time I tried to ask a question), my cell phone started vibrating.

It was the Beloved.

I asked for a recess, my hands shaking, and a few of the guys in suits said "No!" and insinuated that I was stalling or trying to coach my expert. My expert, who knew me well and knew what the Beloved did for a living, launched out of his chair, went up over the table, and lunged for someone's throat. I stood up, yanked him back, swore rather viciously on the record (it was left off the transcript, thankfully) and said we were taking a break, and f*** 'em if they didn't like it.

I ran into an adjoining conference room, took the call, and got the news. "I'm leaving in 30 minutes. We're loading the plane. Kuwait, and then someplace called Tajikistan, I guess." I sank to the floor. I was a mess.

I am fairly sure I said all the right things, love, goodbyes, and all that. Then I looked up and saw several of the defense attorneys looking in at me through the conference room windows. The worst a-hole among them came in, kleenex in hand, and helped me up. "I'm sorry. Pete just told us what's going on. Is your husband leaving? ("Yes, in less than an hour.")We've postponed the depo. Go see if you can catch him. And tell him we're proud of him." He was no longer an a-hole, he was an American.

I flew, at about 90 mph, all the way back down to Miramar. (I should not have been driving, really.) I got there 45 minutes after the call...only to wait in line for an hour to get on to the base. I was hoping against hope that the Marines were operating on Marine time, and I might get lucky. I got to the 3rd MAW buildings, and they were deserted. I sat in the car, head on the steering wheel, and sobbed. Then I looked up and saw a lone figure in cammies walking briskly toward the car.

My Beloved.

"Hi. What're you doing here? Why didn't you answer your phone?" (Oops, conference room floor...) All the guys had parked their cars in the storage lot, and then got called in for a briefing, which ended right when I got there. The deployment was postponed, based on new intelligence, for at least 30 days. Then another 30. And then...well, that's another story.

I know all of you out there reading this are prayerful people, so I know without asking that you will pray for all the lost souls of September 11th and for all of those lost in the war and chaos since that time. But please take a moment to say an extra prayer to St. Michael the Archangel for all the lost first responders...98% of whom were our Catholic brothers and sisters, living out their vocations of love and service to their fellow man.

Saint Michael the Archangel,defend us in battle.

Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;

and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host -

by the Divine Power of God -

cast into hell, Satan and all the evil spirits,

who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.
Amen.

One last prayer request - for the repose of the soul of Mari-Rae, a classmate, who was on the flight that hit the Pentagon. Click here for her remarkable story.

God Bless America and keep her free.

In, then back out

Well, we made it home last night after 11 hours in the car with a very nicely behaved baby, who (along with his carseat) acted as a perfect buffer to two slightly cranky female children.

Sadly, I must do a little [- gulp -] WORK tomorrow, then on Friday we are off to NYC to do something I've never done...a game at Yankee Stadium with the Beloved and crew. One of those things that must happen before the stadium is wrecked and replaced after this season. I've gotta get a picture of the Beloved and the Boy standing out front of the stadium for the sake of posterity.

It's almost as good for a Boy as going to Wrigley with his Mamma.

GO CUBS GO!

P.S. I just realized something else - this will also mark my first venture into the Bronx, oddly enough - I think I've driven through and/or at least flown out of every other borough. Digi, I will chow down on a dog and hoist a cold adult beverage in your honor.