St. Joseph's Day 2025

 

Happy St. Joseph's Day! Did you remember to wear red today? I sure did, and so did my coworker who had no idea what I was talking about. He's also not a bit Italian, but today was his birthday, and he brought in treats, so I had some orange cranberry bread because it is a solemnity. Every Wednesday we have a staff meeting, and my boss creates an agenda that we can all add to, even at the same time, so I added an agenda item: COWORKER'S BIRTHDAY!!! And Coworker deleted it. Then another coworker got into the spirit, and she started adding COWORKER'S BIRTHDAY!!! to the agenda, and Coworker deleted it. He said, "I'm deleting them as fast as you two are adding them," and I said, "I'm going to win this round," because I know Coworker is even a bigger Luddite than I am, and he doesn't bring his laptop to the meeting, so as soon as he left for the meeting with his old-school pen and paper, I added COWORKER'S BIRTHDAY!!! to the agenda, and he had no way to remove it. Underneath the agenda is a list of our names, so we can add what we're working on this week, and my other coworker wrote BIRTHDAY!! behind the birthday boy's name in ginormous orange font. That was a nice touch. I think our boss thought it was all pretty funny, but the chair and our young coworker were more nonplussed. We always start the meeting with a riddle, and I provided the one this week, courtesy of the priest on Sunday: Why can't you borrow money from a Leprechaun? Only the birthday boy knew the answer: because they're always a little short!

This morning there were so many people on the shuttle that by the time my buddy got on, there were no seats around me, so we didn't get to talk. The weather was crappy, rain and sleet, so I didn't walk with my colleague at lunch. The big conference room overlooking the lake was free according to the schedule, so I went up there just to find three of our grad students hanging around in there. I said, "Oh, is something going on?" and they said, "No, we're just talking," and they left when I said I wanted to walk in there. The room was booked at one, so I finished just before that and was leaving when a bunch of our other grad students started coming toward the room because one of them was giving a practice presentation before a conference. I don't think they saw me, but is there any reason to be embarrassed anyway? What's so odd about walking around a big conference room when the weather is crappy outside? Maybe I'm just afraid they'll catch me praying the rosary.

On the shuttle ride home, I did get to talk to my shuttle buddy, and by the time we got back to the parking lot, the rain had turned into snow. I was so glad to get home safely, change into comfy clothes, and eat beer cheese soup while watching old episodes of Colbert from last week. He must be on vacation this week. Next week is Spring Break at our university, but the only one going on vacation is our boss. I do love being on campus when the students are gone, but they are the reason we all have jobs, so I can't resent their presence too much...

Is this even bragging?

My French score was over 100 (I don't remember having a score in Irish), so 12 seems pretty pathetic. I keep waiting for DuoLingo to bump me up again, but it looks like I'll just have to slowly work my way up to my actual level of Spanish.

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St. Patrick's Day Singalong

 

Today I worked on campus and walked with my colleague at lunch. (Hardingfele didn't want to join us because she said she had walked enough already.) My colleague told me all about her trip to Tokyo and Shanghai, especially how her flight got canceled so she had to fly to three different cities to get back home. This is why I avoid flying, besides my deathly fear of planes. I wasn't able to get to Mass today (it's the anniversary of my baptism and I usually try to make it to Mass), but then I realized hey, I'm Catholic - we always move feasts on Monday to Sunday, and I went yesterday, so no problem. 

I was kind of horrified to see how many people didn't wear green today, like my union peeps (the president has the most Irish-sounding name, and he literally looks like a leprechaun), and the head of HR at the university (who also has the most Irish-sounding name, think Patrick and then a really Irish last name), but one woman at our Staff Congress meeting was wearing a headband with antennae, and on the end of each antenna was a tiny green top hat. Huh. Maybe that's worse than not wearing green.

I forgot to mention that the other day I was talking with another colleague, whom my walking buddy colleague says is a killer pickle ball player, as we waited for the elevator. I expected him to get on it with me and continue the conversation, but he said, "I like to take the stairs once a day." Wow - we were on the first floor, and he works on the 13th floor! Me, I'm too lazy to take the stairs from the 3rd floor, where I come in after my noontime walks, to the 8th floor where I work. Maybe that's why I suck at pickleball.

Travalon picked me up from work, then when we got home, he brought out all our Irish bears and piled the little ones on top of me, so I snuggled with them while we ate a quick dinner before heading to the Irish singalong. Daithi the Fiddler hosted it at Muso, the place where I go to the Slow Irish Sessions, and when I got there, it was clear we were welcome to bring instruments too, if we had them. Now one thing about Muso, which is a music club that I haven't formally joined yet, is that it has lots of instruments around. I saw one guy take a ukulele that was hanging on the wall and start playing it. The session on Saturday was also open to anyone, so if we had stayed there, and I had brought my mandolin, I could have joined in, so I'm beginning to wonder if on St. Patrick's Day weekend I should just take my mandolin with me everywhere I go. Tonight Travalon and I sang with great gusto during the first half of the singalong, but at the break I asked the lady who runs Muso if she had a spare mandolin sitting around. I guess she trusted me with instruments, because she got out a century-old mandolin and let me borrow it. I happily played chords while singing during the second half, since everything seemed to be in C, D, or G, and when they took an "instrument break" to play a well-known reel now and then, I could jump right in. Daithi did want to do one song in E, but the guitar player was like, "What?? No!!" so they did it in D. I'm glad, because I really hate playing the E chord. (E minor is a different matter - I could play that all night, but then it's basically just G, only minor.) Travalon seemed to enjoy the singalong too, and the books about music at Muso, and the treats people bring in. I know it's Lent, but I did indulge in a homemade shamrock sugar cookie, since it's a major feast day... if you're Irish. Wednesday is the real major feast day, especially if you're Italian. I'm Italian-adjacent, since my dad learned to cook from a Sicilian, and my "other" dad (Rich) also learned to cook from a Sicilian - his mom! So everyone remember to wear red for St. Joseph's Day, whether you're Italian or just wish you were.

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Light Bright-Inspired Post: Plant Personalities

 

Happy Feast of the Annunciation! I realize that on St. Joseph's feast day, I didn't mention him at all in my blog post, and this is the Year of St. Joseph. I have been praying the Litany of St. Joseph every morning since the year was declared, and I even did the Seven Sundays devotion successfully - I say this not to brag, but to show that anyone can do it. If someone like me who is so easily distracted and can lose track of doing a novena can manage to do something for seven Sundays in a row, then really anyone can. 

This morning Travalon asked me if the Annunciation is a day of obligation, and I said no, we don't have to go to Mass today. Then he wanted to know if it was a feast day, meaning he could do all those things he gave up for Lent, like order Funko Pop figurines online. I said sure, why not, and then in that spirit I spent quite a bit of time on social media. For some reason I thought of a friend I haven't seen in years, someone I've known since elementary school, so I sent another high school friend a message on social media to ask if he knew what she was up to. He said she lives on the West Coast now and is bitter at the world. What a shame, but then again when I asked what he was up to these days, he said he's in a polyamorous relationship with two women. We were all kind of oddballs in high school, but I'm almost normal now, at least compared to the two of them. 

I also texted Light Bright, because she used to help inspire me with blog post subjects, and she suggested blogging about the personality of my plants: which one would be my BFF, which one would be my archenemy, and which one would steal my boyfriend. The first one is easy - the ZZ plant would be my bestie, because it's so easygoing. The plant that would be my archenemy might be the dumb cane I got when a coworker at the Press was shutting down his side business, and it was his office plant. It's huge, it's supposed to be indestructible, but right now it's covered with little fuzzy white bugs and is deathly ill. Or maybe it would be one of the pothos plants that have spread everywhere, and it's hard to walk in my plant room without tripping over them. There you go - they're trying to kill me! Now which plant would steal my boyfriend? I don't remember Travalon having a whole lot of interest in any of my plants, but come to think of it he does really like this tall, red-tinted cactus type thing. He always comments on it. I suppose as far as plants go, it's sexy - red and tall and slim and just a bit dangerous, with spines. So once again Light Bright comes through with a blog post idea!

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Happy St. Joseph Day

Today is St. Joseph’s Day, when all of us (who know about it) are a little bit Italian, as long as we wear red. Speaking of Italians, they are claiming the new pope because he is ethnically Italian. Of course Latin America claims him too, and both the Jesuits and the Franciscans are ecstatic. I would add that the French should be flattered, because “Francesco” literally means French. But getting back to St. Joseph, it has always annoyed me the way people bury statues of him upside down to sell their houses. Doesn’t that seem just a little disrespectful? How would they like it if people buried photos of them upside down and demanded they help with real estate deals?

On a similar religious theme, Toque McToque sent me a story about a guy who saw Jesus in the paint spattered on a dropcloth. Why are people always seeing Jesus in random inanimate objects? She also sent me this example of someone seeing something (someone) else in a painting of Jesus:

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Happy St. Joseph's Day!

Did you remember to wear red today? Remember, on St. Joseph’s Day, everyone is a little bit Italian, and it is my goal in life to see Richard Bonomo’s heritage made as cheesy as mine. My dream is that someday you will see flocks of people in the St. Joseph’s Day parade with little to no Italian heritage, wearing plastic meatballs on their heads and buttons that say “Kiss me, I’m Italian!” They will stick an “-ino” on the end of their surnames and go around joking about how the “Jonesino” and “Smithino” families are so very Italian, and how they are sure they had a great-grandmother on their father’s side who is from Naples, or at least visited there. And they will drink red wine… wait, that’s not cheesy. Never mind.

While I was lying in bed sick the day that the O’Joneses and O’Smiths wore green and drank green beer while wearing plastic shamrocks on their heads, Hardingfele was celebrating her lack of Irish heritage by playing hardinger fiddle for elementary school kids. Now Hardingfele is an excellent example of someone who doesn’t let genes dictate her heritage: she was born a Russian Jew but is now a proud Norski! You go, girlski!

Here, in her own words on MyFace, is how it all went down:

Hardingfele: So I get to present Norway for St. Patty's day at a school program, but trolls are still a hit. Call me stupid, but I cut up wax earplugs and now I cannot hear well because they are stuck in the ear canal. I am too embarrassed to go to the doc and explain this mishap

Friend #1: Don't be. They've seen it all, and worse... :)

Hardingfele: I am hoping it will eventually melt or something. I managed to mangle both ears. But then being slightly hard of hearing may not be so bad. At least I can genuinely say that I did not hear that whiny request.....

Friend #2: if you can't get it out it's ER time..

Hardingfele: Doc said come to urgent care ASAP. This is why health reform will get bogged down, skyrocketing costs by twits like me :-)

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Hardingfele: Nurse pulled out a little fingernail size of silicon earplug out of each ear. Note to self, dont do something this moronic again.

Friend #3: at least the metal flagpoles are not frozen anymore, so you should be safe from that at least!!!

Hardingfele: Right!

Friend #2: I triple dog dare ya!

Friend #2: her name wasn't Nurse Jan...was it?

Hardingfele: Nope, Teri or Carrie

Me again. Isn't it interesting that Hardingfele has to wear earplugs while playing the hardinger fiddle? Is it really that loud? I love love love the Christmas Story references from her friends! Wish there was a way to work The Princess Bride in there too! Maybe something about iocane?

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Happy St. Joseph's Day!

An obvious topic for today's Lenten reflection would be the obedience and faith of St. Joseph. Imagine you're Joe: your fiancee turns up with a bun in the oven that you KNOW isn't yours, and she swears she hasn't been messing around. But then you dream that she's right, the child is God Incarnate, so you go ahead and marry her. There are a couple of weird things going on the night the kid is born, like a big star resting right over the stable and shepards saying they heard angels singing, and sometime later a bunch of fancy dudes on camels come to your door with lots of schwag. THEN you dream that you have to take your wife and kid out of the country because the local honcho wants to knock the kid off. (Good thing those Eastern dudes brought you all that schwag to sell to finance a trip all the way to Egypt!) Wouldn't you be just a little weirded out? But St. Joseph stays calm through it all and does what he is told, no matter how out there it seems, and in the end the little nuclear family got to move to a nice place in Nazareth.

Today you were supposed to wear red in honor of St. Joseph. Did you? (I'll wait while you check.) He is the patron saint of Italy, Poland, and I think maybe Germany too. On St. Joseph's Day, everyone is a little bit Italian! I said to Richard Bonomo that it was a shame this day didn't get the same press as St. Patrick's Day, wouldn't he love to have his ethnic background commercialized and trivialized like mine has been? and oddly enough he said No. But I have figured out the basic problem: the Italians need a simple, attractive emblem like the shamrock. Why shouldn't people with Italian surnames get catalogues full of Italocrap just like the catalogues I keep getting full of Celtocrap? How did they know I needed a toilet seat cover emblazoned with shamrocks and a green scarf that says "Irish Princess" and a plastic angel that plays "Tura Lura"? So I am asking you, my faithful readers, to suggest a simple, bold, and monochromatic emblem for the Italians to rival the shamrocks of the Irish. Maybe a meatball would be good...? It's a simple geometric shape and a bright red color!

St. Joseph is also the patron saint of workers because of his work as a carpenter, and the protector of virgins because of his role as Our Lady's protector. I'm not sure why people bury statues of him upside-down in the yard to sell their houses; they tell me it works, but it seems a little idol-worshipy to me, not to mention disrespectful. Then again, I suppose it's no worse than hanging a statue of St. Anthony upside-down until he finds you a husband. Why would St. Anthony find you a husband? I thought St. Anne (Our Lady's mother) was the patron saint of single woman. I always heard you were supposed to pray to her: "Dear St. Anne/Find me a man!" St. Anthony is the patron saint of lost things. ("Tony, Tony, come around/Something's lost and must be found!") But maybe I should be praying to St. Anthony, because my man is clearly lost, since he hasn't found me yet!

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