Bold. Permanent. Indelible. – Harvey Makes His Mark

Mail
My mailbox on the 28th of August, 2017.

Funny thing about Sharpie markers. On their website, the product description offers its use for “paper, plastic, metal, and most other surfaces.” It’s that “most other surfaces” part that gets me. You know what surface I never dreamed I’d be using my trusty fine-tip Sharpie on?

My kids’ arms.

Turns out, Sharpie writes well on skin – even if your hand is shaking like a leaf. And it stays there after several days of baths and soapy scrubbings, as a bold, indelible reminder of a hurricane that still haunts my dreams, almost two months later.

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Little Bit O’ Lagniappe [vol. 6]

Little Bit O' Lagniappe

Natural Beauty

I’m surrounded by natural beauty – most notably in the beautiful squishiness of our newest addition, Beckett. He was born on a very hot, humid August day – the feast of St. Dominic. The doctor was a bit late to the delivery because the elevator was out of order, and he almost arrived without her assistance. He’s a squishy, fat, bundle of love of which his older siblings can’t get enough.  I’m spending my maternity leave soaking in his goodness – the smell of his milky breath, the rolls upon rolls of baby fat, and the quiet calmness of his coos. I’m in awe of this little man.

Babyhands.jpg

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Pray, Hope, and Don’t Worry – Sometimes, Easier Said Than Done

More often than not lately, I’m empathizing with the Israelites and their golden calf worship. OK, not really the ones that did the actual worshipping, but more like the ones who awkwardly stood on the edges of the crowd watching everything go down but doing nothing to stop it. I would’ve been one of the ones, mouth agape, discreetly taking pics on my phone to post to IG with the hashtag #prayforthesedamnedfools while secretly agreeing with them in frustration. Now before you go thinking I’m going to melt down all of my gold jewelry (all four pieces) and cast them into the likeness of Elsie the cow, let me explain a bit.
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That Time the Triduum Triumphed

It was 2014. We were set to move out of our home two weeks after Easter, and, as my procrastinating self would have it, I’d yet to pack anything other than books. I decided that we’d spend the Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday) purging and packing, and this process would yield to an Easter Sunday with far less clutter – an excellent metaphor for the New Life we were entering with our new house. You know what they say about plans and making God laugh. On Good Friday, I decided to make falafel for supper – a tradition I’d started the year before, and we loved so much that we’ve kept it up. Because it’s a rather involved process, I didn’t get the kitchen cleaned until rather late, and I fell into bed exhausted.
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