The Old Baguette just had an idea. The question of whether or not women should be ordained as priests will probably not be answered for years and years. Frankly, following the pros and cons of the ordination of women can be exhausting and knowing that even the smallest of changes in the way "things are done" can take years to accomplish makes the debate both tiring and tiresome. The arguments on both sides are stale. We've heard them all. Too often? Perhaps, but I'd like to focus on one of these arguments just the same. The cons proclaim that one of the reasons why women shouldn't be ordained is the "fact" that women have not been ordained in the past. There is disagreement -- and further debate -- over whether or not this "fact" really is a "fact." Fact or fabrication. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The Old Baguette thinks she might have a solution to this deadlock.
A friend sent me a picture of a Cardinal. A churchman, not a bird. He's wearing a scarlet robe with a train that's about 40 feet long. Bridal consultants call a train of that length a "Cathedral Train." He's wearing a silly hat that would cause a sensation at the Kentucky Derby or at the wedding of a Royal in England. You know he's wearing a ring, a big ring. His red shoes aren't flats either, but high heels. He has attendants to keep all the material off the ground when he's walking and to arrange it nicely when he's seated. The attendants are wearing long skirts and lots of lace. Frankly, they look like nerds, but the title nerd of honor doesn't go along with the long skirts and lace. If the men were women, they'd be dressed for a wedding or a Halloween party. The creature in scarlet would be called the bride and the attendants would be maids of honor. There are women in the pictures, too, but they aren't in scarlet or lace. In their dull colors, they look like drab little wrens. The scenes aren't happy.
Now, in the old days, many a Cardinal was a layman. Men didn't have to be priests to be made Cardinals. That is undeniably a fact. Why not skip the discussion of whether or not women should be ordained? Give it a rest for awhile. Instead, let's argue for the appointment of women Cardinals ASAP. Plenty of women are around who run companies and countries. Some of them are Catholic. Make these women Cardinals and see what happens. Women are practical. One is bound to say: We have no priests. It's time to abandon our focus on fashion and ordain the married and single, male and female. That's the way God made them.
Well, that's the Old Baguette's idea. Push for the appointment of women cardinals.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A Girl with Attitude
Friends who already have a Samoyed, Katie, recently added a five-year old Samoyed female, Shasta, to their household. They drove to California from their home in Ely, MN, rescued her, and then spent five days with her on the return trip. En route, they bonded and found they had rescued a fabulous dog. Gorgeous. Bright. Curious. An alpha female. A girl with attitude.
The Old Baguette had wanted to meet her, so the pet mobile stopped in Minneapolis for a few hours of socializing, research, and play. After it was clear that Shasta was welcoming to strangers, i..e., me, John took her for a walk and gave her food and water which she ignored. She was more interested in having the three of us admire her, pet her, tell her how gorgeous, funny, smart, and good she is. She posed for pictures. She actually looked at the camera and smiled that Sammy smile. That's posing, isn't it? Then, John and Jo played a brilliant game with her. They stood facing each other, about as far apart from each other as the pitcher and the catcher stand during a baseball game. Shasta was "at bat" on home plate. John, the pitcher, began the game by calling, "Come, Shasta." Shasta raced to him, got a treat, and then faced Jo, the catcher. Jo called, "Come, Shasta," and Shasta then raced to Jo, got her treat, and waited for John's call. Back and forth between them, Shasta ran until she was worn out, her energy drained, but John and Jo weren't at all worn out. None of their energy had been drained because they hadn't budged except to dole out a treat. Owners of energetic dogs that require a lot of exercise, do try this game that John and Jo invented. You and your dog will love it.
Next came the research, serious research. Katie, the Samoyed back at the ranch in Ely, is a licensed Therapy Dog. She wanders from room to room in nursing homes and hospitals, cheering up patients. That's real therapy. Could Shasta abandon her alpha female instincts and become a Therapy Dog, too? Could she be calm enough to provide therapy? Yes, she could.
The Old Baguette, creaky, infirm, took on the role of patient and sat in the corner of a bench.
Shasta stretched out beside her, clearly ready to bark Code Blue, if the Old Baguette rolled off the bench and landed on the grass, an unconscious blob. That didn't happen, but Shasta submitted to being scratched on the neck and petted while the Old Baguette muttered sweet somethings. Good dog. Good girl. An aura of peace prevailed. Both dog and human experienced therapeutic effects. Samoyeds are workers. Clearly, Shasta can get and keep a position as a therapist despite today's tough job market.
Too soon the pet mobile was on its way to Ely. Shasta would meet Katie and explore her new home. Would Katie be traumatized? Would she feel like the omega female? Would Katie, Therapy Dog par excellence, require therapy herself? Would Shasta take to her large, luxurious kennel on the lake? It was a good thing that John and Jo hadn't worn themselves out while exercising Shasta because the day was young. Shasta might be young, but John and Jo aren't. (Unlike the Old Baguette, however, they are not the slightest bit creaky.)
The Old Baguette is not a therapist, licensed or unlicensed, or even licentious, but she's not a bad diagnostician. Shasta is certainly a girl with attitude. Lots of attitude. She probably thinks that Mount Shasta in California is named for her. She's going to bring a lot of joy and pizazz to John, Jo, and, yes, to Katie.
The Old Baguette had wanted to meet her, so the pet mobile stopped in Minneapolis for a few hours of socializing, research, and play. After it was clear that Shasta was welcoming to strangers, i..e., me, John took her for a walk and gave her food and water which she ignored. She was more interested in having the three of us admire her, pet her, tell her how gorgeous, funny, smart, and good she is. She posed for pictures. She actually looked at the camera and smiled that Sammy smile. That's posing, isn't it? Then, John and Jo played a brilliant game with her. They stood facing each other, about as far apart from each other as the pitcher and the catcher stand during a baseball game. Shasta was "at bat" on home plate. John, the pitcher, began the game by calling, "Come, Shasta." Shasta raced to him, got a treat, and then faced Jo, the catcher. Jo called, "Come, Shasta," and Shasta then raced to Jo, got her treat, and waited for John's call. Back and forth between them, Shasta ran until she was worn out, her energy drained, but John and Jo weren't at all worn out. None of their energy had been drained because they hadn't budged except to dole out a treat. Owners of energetic dogs that require a lot of exercise, do try this game that John and Jo invented. You and your dog will love it.
Next came the research, serious research. Katie, the Samoyed back at the ranch in Ely, is a licensed Therapy Dog. She wanders from room to room in nursing homes and hospitals, cheering up patients. That's real therapy. Could Shasta abandon her alpha female instincts and become a Therapy Dog, too? Could she be calm enough to provide therapy? Yes, she could.
The Old Baguette, creaky, infirm, took on the role of patient and sat in the corner of a bench.
Shasta stretched out beside her, clearly ready to bark Code Blue, if the Old Baguette rolled off the bench and landed on the grass, an unconscious blob. That didn't happen, but Shasta submitted to being scratched on the neck and petted while the Old Baguette muttered sweet somethings. Good dog. Good girl. An aura of peace prevailed. Both dog and human experienced therapeutic effects. Samoyeds are workers. Clearly, Shasta can get and keep a position as a therapist despite today's tough job market.
Too soon the pet mobile was on its way to Ely. Shasta would meet Katie and explore her new home. Would Katie be traumatized? Would she feel like the omega female? Would Katie, Therapy Dog par excellence, require therapy herself? Would Shasta take to her large, luxurious kennel on the lake? It was a good thing that John and Jo hadn't worn themselves out while exercising Shasta because the day was young. Shasta might be young, but John and Jo aren't. (Unlike the Old Baguette, however, they are not the slightest bit creaky.)
The Old Baguette is not a therapist, licensed or unlicensed, or even licentious, but she's not a bad diagnostician. Shasta is certainly a girl with attitude. Lots of attitude. She probably thinks that Mount Shasta in California is named for her. She's going to bring a lot of joy and pizazz to John, Jo, and, yes, to Katie.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Yet Another Questionnaire
The Old Baguette has created another questionnaire. Readers read books. Many then review and rate them on Amazon.com. Reviewers describe some books as masterpieces of mediocrity and give them 3 star ratings. These are the ho hums. Reviewers describe other books as poorly written, boring, worse than mediocre and give them 2 star ratings. These are the mini-disasters. Finally, a few books get a dreaded to-read-this-book-you-have-to-be-out-of-your-mind review and an equally dreaded 1 star rating. These are the mega-disasters. In the opinion of the reviewers/raters, these books aren't worth reading, yet the reviewers/raters read them from the first capital letter to the last punctuation mark. They started them and finished them. Instead of tossing the book aside as a time waster or worse and then finding a good book to read, the reviewer/rater plugged along until the rotten book was finished. Why?
Now, the only books the Old Baguette will consider reading have 4 star or 5 star ratings. She eschews (a word that would appear only in a pretentious ho-hum or worse book) eschews all books that are ho-hum or worse. When there are so many 4 and 5 star books out there, why would she --or anyone else -- begin reading a 3, 2, or 1 star book and then take the time to finish it? A book really can't be reviewed and rated until it's been completed. Why have so many, many ho-hums, mini-disasters, and mega-disasters been read from start to finish? Shouldn't all readers, like the Old Baguette, eschew books rated 3 stars or worse?
Yes.
Alas, reviewers, like fingerprints and snowflakes, are so unique that they sometimes give 1 star ratings to 5 star books and 5 star ratings to 1 star books. How does the Old Baguette deal with this problem? She reads a few pages of every book. If she likes it, she keeps on reading. If she doesn't like it, she abandons the unsatisfactory book for another. Shouldn't all readers do the same?
Yes.
The Old Baguette really wonders why readers feel compelled to finish books they don't like and has designed the following questionnaire to get answers. If you feel compelled to finish books just because you started reading them, this questionnaire is for you. Perhaps you were traumatized as a child. If so, you must understand the nature of your trauma so you can stop reading bad books to their end. If this questionnaire isn't for you, go to your doctor's office and look for a Reader's Digest. No matter what the year or the month you will find a questionnaire, a poll, a survey, or a real life story that will suit you and inspire you.
Questionnaire:
I was traumatized as a child by one of the following experiences.
o My mother repeatedly told me that she would send our library of books to the word hungry children of China if I didn't finish my book.
o In first grade, we made snakes by writing the titles of books we had read on circles which we stapled together. My snake was short, so I got new circles by giving the one book I'd read different titles. My snake got longer and longer until it reached the Principal's office.
o I got one book a year for my birthday. If I wanted to read, I read that book -- even if I didn't
like it.
o I didn't learn to read until I was twelve. My family owned one book. I used to hold it, count to twenty, and then turn a page until I reached the last page. What was on the page didn't matter.
o Andrew Carnegie didn't build a library in my town. Our school didn't have a library either. We read the Dick and Jane books and the letters in our names.
o Our dog Spot ate my comic book.
o Now an adult, I don't stop reading until I've reached the book's penultimate (another word that appears only in pretentious ho hum or worse books) penultimate chapter, and then I think: "Hey, I've read this far. I might as well finish. And then I'll review and rate the book for Amazon.com."
o A different traumatic experience that isn't listed above, e.g., your dog Spot was actually a Maine Coon tabby. That cat was plenty big enough to eat a comic book.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Old Baguette hopes that the reviewers/raters who take the above questionnaire will become as sensitive in their reviews and ratings of books as they are in their reviews and ratings of beer and pick-ups.
(Keep in mind these final thoughts: The Old Baguette's reviews and ratings tend to be inaccurate, and Blogs are not books.)
Now, the only books the Old Baguette will consider reading have 4 star or 5 star ratings. She eschews (a word that would appear only in a pretentious ho-hum or worse book) eschews all books that are ho-hum or worse. When there are so many 4 and 5 star books out there, why would she --or anyone else -- begin reading a 3, 2, or 1 star book and then take the time to finish it? A book really can't be reviewed and rated until it's been completed. Why have so many, many ho-hums, mini-disasters, and mega-disasters been read from start to finish? Shouldn't all readers, like the Old Baguette, eschew books rated 3 stars or worse?
Yes.
Alas, reviewers, like fingerprints and snowflakes, are so unique that they sometimes give 1 star ratings to 5 star books and 5 star ratings to 1 star books. How does the Old Baguette deal with this problem? She reads a few pages of every book. If she likes it, she keeps on reading. If she doesn't like it, she abandons the unsatisfactory book for another. Shouldn't all readers do the same?
Yes.
The Old Baguette really wonders why readers feel compelled to finish books they don't like and has designed the following questionnaire to get answers. If you feel compelled to finish books just because you started reading them, this questionnaire is for you. Perhaps you were traumatized as a child. If so, you must understand the nature of your trauma so you can stop reading bad books to their end. If this questionnaire isn't for you, go to your doctor's office and look for a Reader's Digest. No matter what the year or the month you will find a questionnaire, a poll, a survey, or a real life story that will suit you and inspire you.
Questionnaire:
I was traumatized as a child by one of the following experiences.
o My mother repeatedly told me that she would send our library of books to the word hungry children of China if I didn't finish my book.
o In first grade, we made snakes by writing the titles of books we had read on circles which we stapled together. My snake was short, so I got new circles by giving the one book I'd read different titles. My snake got longer and longer until it reached the Principal's office.
o I got one book a year for my birthday. If I wanted to read, I read that book -- even if I didn't
like it.
o I didn't learn to read until I was twelve. My family owned one book. I used to hold it, count to twenty, and then turn a page until I reached the last page. What was on the page didn't matter.
o Andrew Carnegie didn't build a library in my town. Our school didn't have a library either. We read the Dick and Jane books and the letters in our names.
o Our dog Spot ate my comic book.
o Now an adult, I don't stop reading until I've reached the book's penultimate (another word that appears only in pretentious ho hum or worse books) penultimate chapter, and then I think: "Hey, I've read this far. I might as well finish. And then I'll review and rate the book for Amazon.com."
o A different traumatic experience that isn't listed above, e.g., your dog Spot was actually a Maine Coon tabby. That cat was plenty big enough to eat a comic book.
* * * * * * * * * *
The Old Baguette hopes that the reviewers/raters who take the above questionnaire will become as sensitive in their reviews and ratings of books as they are in their reviews and ratings of beer and pick-ups.
(Keep in mind these final thoughts: The Old Baguette's reviews and ratings tend to be inaccurate, and Blogs are not books.)
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Put in Her Place
The Old Baguette was gently chastised by her buddies at church this morning. If the Archbishop should threaten her lovingly with excommunication or with a brisk burn at the stake, she should not stoop to rudeness. Rudeness never conquers. Instead, she should follow Dirty Harry's example and say, "Go ahead. Excommunicate me. Burn me briskly at the stake. MAKE MY DAY!" She should try her best to be sweet.
The Archbishop won't threaten the Old Baguette at all, of course. The Old Baguette is really old. If the Archbishop notices her at all, he won't think she could ever be dangerous. He would be wrong
The Archbishop won't threaten the Old Baguette at all, of course. The Old Baguette is really old. If the Archbishop notices her at all, he won't think she could ever be dangerous. He would be wrong
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Synod of the Baptized
This year's Synod of the Baptized, the first of many, is over. The many attendees left all fired up to work for change. The Old Baguette was there as were several of her church going buddies. We go to brunch together after Mass on Sunday. We meet together regularly to discuss the bible, books, and other stuff. We learn from each other as well as from the printed page, take a break for treats, and celebrate being friends. We rejoice and are glad.
The Archbishop wasn't at the Synod. We didn't miss his presence, but it's too bad he didn't hear Anthony Padovano wow us with his wisdom and wit. He didn't get the opportunity to brain storm with us about what structures need changing so that we can change -- for the better. Nope. He missed it all. Has he forgotten that he is baptized, too, and should be our friend, our buddy, just another Person of God? The Old Baguette would like to remind him of that reality.
Lovingly, of course.
The Archbishop wasn't at the Synod. We didn't miss his presence, but it's too bad he didn't hear Anthony Padovano wow us with his wisdom and wit. He didn't get the opportunity to brain storm with us about what structures need changing so that we can change -- for the better. Nope. He missed it all. Has he forgotten that he is baptized, too, and should be our friend, our buddy, just another Person of God? The Old Baguette would like to remind him of that reality.
Lovingly, of course.
Monday, September 12, 2011
A Synod of the Baptized
Coming up in the Twin Cities this very Saturday will be a Synod of the Baptized. When the Old Baguette was a Petite Pain, she was baptized so she'll be there. Our Archbishop has written the organizers of our little gathering. We must not use the word "Synod" because Synods are
"official" gatherings. We "ordinary" Catholics must use another word to describe our little gathering because it is "unofficial." Apparently, the Archbishop has forgotten that we "ordinary" Catholics aren't ordinary at all. Each of us has been baptized. Each one of us is a VIP. If we want to call one of our gatherings a Synod, we can. (Lighten up! "Synod" is just a word.)
The Archbishop has also been baptized. If he hasn't been baptized, he lacks one of the necessary qualifications for his job. Lawyers must pass the Bar Exam; Archbishops must be baptized. Because our Archbishop has been baptized, he'd be welcome to attend our little gathering, our Synod of the Baptized. Like the rest of us, he'd have an opportunity to vent lovingly as is his wont. We'd listen. Of course. We're baptized and Catholic, but most of us are not rude. The Old Baguette admits she would stoop to rudeness or worse if she were lovingly threatened with excommunication or a brisk burn at the stake. However, she's an exception.
Our question: Would the Archbishop listen to us? We suspect he wouldn't. And that's why we are forced to have a Synod. What's so difficult to understand about that?
"official" gatherings. We "ordinary" Catholics must use another word to describe our little gathering because it is "unofficial." Apparently, the Archbishop has forgotten that we "ordinary" Catholics aren't ordinary at all. Each of us has been baptized. Each one of us is a VIP. If we want to call one of our gatherings a Synod, we can. (Lighten up! "Synod" is just a word.)
The Archbishop has also been baptized. If he hasn't been baptized, he lacks one of the necessary qualifications for his job. Lawyers must pass the Bar Exam; Archbishops must be baptized. Because our Archbishop has been baptized, he'd be welcome to attend our little gathering, our Synod of the Baptized. Like the rest of us, he'd have an opportunity to vent lovingly as is his wont. We'd listen. Of course. We're baptized and Catholic, but most of us are not rude. The Old Baguette admits she would stoop to rudeness or worse if she were lovingly threatened with excommunication or a brisk burn at the stake. However, she's an exception.
Our question: Would the Archbishop listen to us? We suspect he wouldn't. And that's why we are forced to have a Synod. What's so difficult to understand about that?
Sunday, September 11, 2011
A New Computer. Hosannah!
The Old Baguette has not written a post since sometime in May. Mercy! I could claim that my brain, broiled by days of blistering heat, simply stopped functioning, but I won't. Why not? Because my brain finds functioning difficult whatever the temperature. Instead, I shall claim that my electronic brain, my computer, hasn't been cooperating at all. My fault, of course. I not only put garbage in, but I also made sure that each bit of that garbage had a folder of its own so it could stay in. None of that garbage ever got out. The Old Baguette is writing now only because she has a new computer. I shall treat it more kindly. I will try to keep the garbage out, but if some gets in I will delete it. I will stop creating folders. If I could stop smoking, I see no reason why I can't stop creating folders.
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