A Momentous Day!

Today is a National Holiday in Belgium.

Today is also the feast day of St. Victor of Marseilles.

On this day in 356 B.C., Herostratus set fire to the Temple of Artemis in Ephesus; it was one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

In 1861the South won the First Battle of Bull Run. So much for coming out of the chute strong.

In 1969, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon. I saw that!

These famous people share a birthday today: Josh Hartnett, Robin Williams, Ernest Hemingway, Isaac Stern, Jon Lovitz, and Kenneth Starr. I left out Janet Reno because she’s just plain creepy.

birthday girl
birthday girl

And finally, the most important thing of all: it’s Vicky’s birthday!

Happy Birthday Vic! ! !

I enjoyed an egg salad sandwich, and it’s not even lent!

How delightful to work from home. I figure that I saved a quarter of a tank of gas, and another 4 or 5 bucks for not going out to eat. Hmmm. Could this be some crazy new trend for me? Could I possibly be on the road to better fiscal responsibility?

I just think it’s Plurk’s fault. How long does it take to buy a pair of shoes, anywhay?

that sandwich smells like first grade

About a hundred years ago when I was in first grade I had a lunch box similar to this one in the picture. I don’t remember any yellow in it, but it was definitely a red plaid metal lunch box. In the world of school accessories, things like lunch boxes had not become big money makers that are product tie-ins to studios such as Disney. It was just a utilitarian box. McDonald’s had just opened and real people actually ate merely a hamburger and regular-size (i.e., small) fries with an 8 oz. Coke. We were a lot thinner back then.

Anyway, that was my lunch box. My mom used the thermos for coffee, so she would tape a nickel or five(!) pennies to the lid so I could buy milk at lunch time. HA! I need a part time job just to keep my teenaged son in milk–I might just try taping some pennies to a lunch box and see how that plays out when he returns to school next month.

I had a flashback to those days earlier today when I opened my lunch. I no longer carry around a metal lunchbox, and the contents of my lunch are a little more sophisticated these days: replace bologna with a delightfully rare roast beef–lose the mayo for a spicy horseradish on rye instead of Wonderbread, but the idea is the same. I pulled out my sandwich, and unwrapped the old school folding plastic instead of sealing ziplock, and BAM! it’s 1969 all over again.

“Why I Moved” by Bego

Wency, of Slaho fame, asked me the following question:

Hey Bego, any reason why you decided to move? Just curious, you know?

Ok, Wency, here’s my answer: Because.

There’s more, of course, but the overwhelming reason is because I wanted to do it. When I started blogging a few years ago, I had already been reading several forums and blogs and had seen a lot of nice clean blogs and an equal share of really messy, really confusing blogs that had so many widgets and stuff that it was distracting. And then when I starting reading those blogs from Bloglines, the reader took out all that stuff and gave me the kind of clean lines I appreciated. Anyway, from a purely aesthetic and streamlined point of view, I liked the stuff that let me find the content easier.

When I finally decided to take the plunge and start my own blog, I knew my audience was family and friends–I just wanted a place to post my random thoughts and observations, and also keep my parents and siblings caught up on stuff in my life. It became a forum for posting the silly pictures of stuff going on in my life, and I wanted to keep it as simple as possible, mostly so that my parents could use it without having to register for things like MySpace or Facebook.

I tried out a few blogs, such as Xanga and LiveJournal, but they were loaded with all the stuff that I wanted to avoid. Blogger seemed to have the easiest format, not only for the reader, but for me, too. I settled on the design that I liked the most out of what was available at the time, almost on a whim. I liked it well enough and it served my needs.

I was doing some other stuff on blogs at the time. Like you, I was posting at Ink ‘n Doodles, and in fact, the Friday Ruminations eventually turned into my blog–something that agitated Rob a little (sorry dude, but all this is your fault to begin with!) because I pretty much disappeared from posting over there. But hey, it gave me the courage to take the dive. For too long I wrote and jammed it under my bed instead of sharing it. I was also writing on a group blog at Rosary Army, where I eventually started posting on Mondays under the title of Monday Musings. That has grown into a regular feature at Rosary Army, along with some other really good bloggers like Mickey Addison, Fr. Bill Kessler, Greg Willits, and lately, a podcast called Catholic Magazine that features Mickey, me, and Fr. Jay Finelli, the iPadre (check out his podcast, too!). I also help write for That Catholic Show, which, if I say so myself, is a great fun way to look at Catholicism in 5-mute bursts of catechesis.

So, it turns out that I’m not just writing on my blog, but I’m scattered in a bunch of different places, and while the readership of this blog is still family and close friends, I’ve also added some very cool and interesting people who drop in every once in a while, either out of curiosity or because I’ve linked to here for something that I think they would like.

In writing for those other endeavors, I’ve been exposed to different bloghosts, and found that WordPress has a cleaner design–exactly what I was looking for! The bottom line is this: if I had known then what I know now, I would have built my blog like this three years ago. But I didn’t.

It’s kind of like buying a house. Unless you are one of those freaky people who knows exactly what to get, and has the foresight and money to get it on the first go round, you end up buying the house you can, and learn from that experience so you can get a bigger and better house the next time.

That’s it. I moved because I wanted to and I could. And I was tired of green.

Waiting for Godot

I’m sitting in my office watching the rain drizzle onto the blacktop of the newly covered driveway. The cemetary across the street looks serene; the plastic flowers stuck into the permanent vases have survived the storm that raged earlier, unlike the real flowers, which have disappeared and become part of the natural order again.

Why would anyone put garish orange flowers on a tomb? It’s the only thing I can see.

Meanwhile, the giant oak outside my window had sprouted some new leaves.

today is Marc Chagall’s birthday

I know this because Google has its usual tribute to the day’s event in its header. It’s important to me because Chagall is actually one of those artists that I happen to adore. I want to be very careful here and not sound pretentious or goofy or like a poser. I’m not a connoisseur of anything, but I know what I like, and I tend to really like the things I claim to like.

I first encountered Chagall quite by accident. I was living in Aix-en-Provence, a beautiful city in southern France not too far from Marseille and the Riviera. I was attending school there and enjoying the wonderful host family that coincidentally had many of the same interests as I. The whole flat was covered in books, and as an English major minoring in French (who knew I needed French to study the medieval literature I loved?) I was in absolute heaven.  More about these wonderful folks another time.

Anyway, I ended up at the Chagall Museum in Nice and couldn’t tear myself away. His work, to me, seems whimsical but very symbolic, and I couldn’t read enough about his life. I think I was drawn to his work because of his use of color, particularly blue, and absolutely fell in love with this painting:

I couldn’t put my finger on the significance that this painting would have on me later, but at the time I was drawn by the color and the contrasts he created. It turns out blue is a very meaningful color–suggestive of the Divine. Hmm. Who knew? Certainly not I. I was just mesmerized by the art on display.

It reminded me a little bit of another painting that I love, The Old Guitarist by Picasso:

This painting is unique because if you look above the old man’s head, a woman’s face emerges–like Picasso may have painted over something else, or, perhaps, his muse is faintly visible.

Anyway, that’s my tribute to Chagall. I’ll forgive him for the atrocity that is the ceiling at the Paris Opera.