Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Out And About


Our beautiful church, St. Francis, has been referred to by many as the "treasure of the valley." I agree. It is a beautiful parish inside and out, the structure and the church family that fills it every day.

One frustration for me in attending Mass is that due to the forty-five minute drive to church, this is what happens every time:


Anna has not been sleeping so well at night, so while I usually wake her up when we pull into the church parking lot, today I let her rest a little while.

Tommy and Mary Margaret were also in the car, so we decided to have some fun with the camera. (I am getting better about remembering to bring my camera with me everywhere I go!)








The car seats serve as a jungle gym....
And Tommy learns to use the camera. He took some neat pictures. Can you see his face in the side-view mirror? He is holding the camera, taking the picture:




There is a hole-in-the wall pizza place a few doors down from St. Francis. It's called Luigi's, and it does great business!






Finally Anna woke up, and we braved the cold and headed up the steep hill to church. We went upstairs to the "cry room" (I call it the cry cubicle), right next to the choir loft. I was glad that we made it in time to hear part of Father Burt's homily.


Anna looked down and saw her brothers and sister in the church and said (yelled), "Look Mommy, There's Benjaben!"  (what she calls Ben)




After Mass, I got this picture of Mary Margaret with our pastor, Father Burt. She is wearing the coat I wore as a little girl!


Later we went to visit with our lifelong friends , the Willsons. Tommy decided he wants to start taking violin lessons.


This evening, I had the laugh of the century. I said something Ben didn't like and he said, "Mom, that's so grow-tis-cue." I looked at him like he was crazy.

He asked, "Isn't grow-tis-cue a word?" I said, "No! I don't know what you're talking about." Then he spelled it out:  g-r-o-t-e-s-q-u-e

I almost laughed as hard as when last week Travis asked whose Aero-spay-she-al (Aeropostle) shirt it was. I don't blame him. Who can keep up with all the brand names, anyway!