Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Veggie Fun

Picture from:Big Idea Fun

Do you like VeggieTales and tetris?
Veggie Pile-Up is a fun game to play! When you've completed a line of veggies, they jump off of the paper and hop out of sight.
Moby Blaster is another great veggie game!

Some of you might already have seen this, but here's a neat veggie video:
Store Wars (thanks to Pueo's brother for that)

Lastly, mom made this salad for us one lunch, I have to admit, it wasn't bad!

Sliced Tomatoes
Sliced Onions
Small slices of ham of turkey
Shredded carrots
Feta cheese
Shredded cheddar cheese
Balsamic Vinaigrette

Mix together for a delicious lunch appetizer!

Who says Veggies are boring? :-)

Sunday, January 28, 2007


Our lovebird, Lilo, is currently sitting proudly on three tiny eggs!!!

Stitch, our other lovebird, is happily chirping away, munching on veggies and feeding them to Lilo. The moment we saw the egg, since we're homeschooled, Dad quickly decided to make a nestbox for the birds. For those of you who are wondering what in the world is a nestbox, it's a small box filled with paper strips where the female bird sits on her eggs. So measurements were taken, a realization of need for a bigger cage arouse, and a trip to the hardware and pet store was made. The project was our math and science for the day Mom decided :-)

I've learned much from the years our four birds began to be permanent residents of our home. What they eat, how they play, what they're trying to tell you with their actions, we've even had an emergency a couple of times...

I thank God everyday for our wonderful, sweet, comic, playful, and loud, little birds!

Saint Francis, patron saint of animals, pray for us!

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Pro-Life March

We attended the Pro-life March last Monday. For those of you who weren't able to attend, here's what happened:

To wind was slightly blowing, adding to the chilly air that surrounded the day. Wisps of clouds floated across the the Miriam blue sky...
Hahaha, I'll spare you the details.
We arrived at the capital in the nick of time. A few fellow homeschoolers were there already. We were in the back, so I couldn't see who said the opening prayer. When prayers were finished, we were able to get a better seat. I won't be able to tell you the names of all the emphatic speakers, but a few were the Bishop, other pastors, legislators, senators, and the lieutenant governor's wife. They spoke with passion, determination, clarity, and emphasis. They encouraged everyone to speak out firmly in what they believed in: "Respect for Life from Conception to Natural Death". I'm not sure how far we walked, but it was a little further than the capital to the Cathedral, and back. "Dum vita est, spes est" While there is life, there is hope.

Hawaii Right to Life:


Thanks to Mrs. Esther for posting this!

Therese's Roses, hope you like it:

Ut Prosim means "to serve"
I could find another one though.
(next new year's resolution, learn Latin!)

Commander of the Midget Alliance, hope you're feeling better...

You can make your own here: http://www.says-it.com/seal/index.php

Sunday, January 21, 2007

The Catholic Culture Meme

I've been tagged by Mrs. Esther, yay!!!! :-)

I'm not trying to copy anyone's answers if you find duplicate answers at another blog. My knowledge of the arts is very limited. Reaserching was fun though!

Name a Catholic book that you want to share so much that you keep giving away copies:
I don't really give books away, I usually let everyone borrow them, but if I did, it would be Letters of St. Therese of Lisieux.

Name a work of religious art you'd like to live with:
Pietra (it's the only on I really know)

Name your favorite Catholic artist:

Name a work of Catholic fiction which has penetrated your real life:
The Winged Wathcman

Name your favorite Catholic Musicians - male & female:
Beethovan and Bernadette Farrell

Name your favorite musical:
Sound of Music

Name a punch line that always makes you laugh:
Usually changes every week, but the latest is: "Because they miss the mother ship!"

I tag...

Whoever wants to be tagged, you're it!

Three Kings' Gifts part III

My birds, Lilo and Stitch! Guess which is which?
Cyd, hope you can view the picture.

Last story!


There was once an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Harth, almost ready to retire, living in blissful peace. Forty years of marriage, they had been blessed with wonderful children, and sweet grandchildren. Mr. and Mrs. Harth lived in a cozy home, just right for the both of them. Yet life is not without it's imperfections, for soon Mrs. Harth had a stroke. Relatives and friends flocked to the hospital. Mrs. Harth survived, but couldn't speak or move, though she would get better eventually. Mr. Harth was utterly distraught. As he stayed at her side, countless questions arose in his mind. What would happen to his wife, what would happen to him? His wife had done all the chores at home. Who would clean the house, wash the clothes, who would cook the food? The first question was easily answered by everyone else. Put Mrs. Harth in a care home. Mr. Harth downright refused. She was his wife for better or worse. No care home, he would take care of her he decided then and there. Relatives and friends shook their heads in exasperation, but Mr. Harth nodded his in determination.

So Mr. Harth retired, and brought his wife home. All poor Mrs. Harth could do was sit in her chair, staring at anything that happened to be in front of her. Mr. Harth made sure she was comfortable, turned on the TV for her, then headed for the kitchen. He stood in the middle of the smooth tiled floor, trying to remember what Mrs. Harth did before preparing a meal. A bowl! That's what he needed. Now where were the bowls? It was some minuets before he located the bowl, eggs, sugar, flour, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, and butter. Cinnamon cookies were Mrs. Harth's favorite, what better way to help her get better? Four hours later, Mr. Harth walked to his wife, a proud grin on his face. He was tired, hot, sticky, and holding a plate of a variety of cookies. Some were hard, some suspiciously soft, some burnt, some thickly covered in cinnamon, and some perfect.

The next day, Mr. Harth did what he did best. He fixed up the yard as he thought of the previous day's dinner, the morning's breakfast, and lunch. They had been...interesting, but not bad for first attempts. He planned the rest of the week's chores. He would wash the clothes tomorrow, then clean the house the next. Yes, he chuckled to himself, it would be an interesting Friday and Saturday...

His attempt to wash the clothes, bed sheets, and curtains, had somehow gone askew. The sheets were still damp when he took them out of the washer. The curtains creased from neglect when he prepared the day's meals. Most confusing of all, where had his white shirt gone, and where did he get that pink one? It looked oddly familiar. Cleaning the house was slightly better, though the detergent he used on the walls smelled like his wife's perfume for some reason. Though he did all these chores, Mrs. Harth became more and more depressed. Everyone kept trying to change Mr. Harth's mind, but Mr. Harth was firm in his resolve. He would not give up. He couldn't understand why Mrs. Harth was depressed, but he would not give up. Perhaps some fresh air would cheer her up. He'd have to fix her up presentably of course...

Mr. Harth took a lipstick from Mrs. Harth's make up bag, and smeared it on her lips. Next, he took eyeliner, and drew a line atop her eyebrows. He had seen her apply makeup so many times, but never paid much attention as to how she did it. Now he wished he had been more observant. He picked up a round container full of what looked like dust. He had seen Mrs. Hath dab her cheeks with the dust so he did just that. He fixed up her hair and stepped back with a grin to admire his work. He kept his grin frozen on his face, and walked out of the room so Mrs. Harth couldn't see his reaction. Once out of the room, he closed the door and laughed as softly as he could. She had looked like a clown! Her hair was too curly, and her makeup was applied terribly! Mr. Harth sighed, composed himself, fetched a wet towel from the bathroom, and went to wash the makeup off Mrs. Harth's face.

Mr. Harth took a deep breath of cool autumn air as he pushed his wife's wheelchair around the park. He had finally - after a few days and various attempts - applied the right amount of makeup to his wife's face. Her hair was nicely combed, and her clothes were the same color as they were before he had washed them. Their house smelled of fresh oranges, and his meals were better than last week's. But he could tell that his wife wasn't happy. He was trying his best, not every meal he cooked wasn't black in color. Not all of the clothed he washed ended up a different color. Mr. Harth sighed. He needed a break, but he couldn't give up. He raised his eyes toward heaven for the millionth time, and pled with all his heart for the grace to complete the task he had taken upon himself.

Days went by, and Mr. Harth was having a terrible day. He was at a loss as to how turkey was cooked. The water for the soup was overflowing, resembling a bubbling mass of lava. The apple pie was starting to get a little too brown at the top, and who knew what had become of the mashed potatoes! He turned everything off and hid in his room. He saw his wife beckoning him over to her. With difficulty she spoke for the first time in a long while, but her words were far from comforting. In fact they were upset and demanding. "Why are you doing this to me? I'm supposed to take care of you, you're not supposed to take care of me!" Mr. Harth could take no more. All the pent up frustration he had pushed away in the past weeks burst. He ran out of the house into the cold air as tears fell.

A couple of rounds around the park calmed him down. Composed and reserved, he marched purposefully back to his house and to his wife. "You want to know why I'm doing this, it's because you do it every day for me. You wash, cook, clean, and so much more. Can't I do the same for you?" Mollified, Mrs. Harth sorrowfully apologized and hugged Mr. Harth.

There might be more to that story, I'm not sure, that's all Father told us. Hope you enjoyed the stories!

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Three King's Gifts part II

Picture from Patron Saint's Index

Continuation of the story............


Brother Martin was a happy, cheerful monk. Willing to help anyone, no matter how notorious, in need. He was skipping down to the baker's from the monastery, when he chanced to see a man dressed in rags sleeping in a doorway. Brother Martin, abandoning his task for bread, walked to the man. It was plain to see that if the man did not get medical attention..... Brother Martin hurried to the monastery for more help.

The man woke to find himself in a cot in a moderately furnished room. There was a monk standing over him with a smile on his face. The man was no longer ill, but he was still bitter. He yelled with all his might at the monk and tossed a nearby plate of food at him. Poor Brother Martin scurried out as quickly as he could. Every time a brother came to give the man food, the same events occurred. The monks were given specific instructions by the abbot not to talk to the man. A smile was fine, but the Abbot wanted to give the man time to heal, to be alone safe from all the horrors he had faced.

After a year, the man became confused. Each morning a monk would bring the man breakfast, the man would throw it at a wall, and the monk would clean the mess up with a cheerful smile on his face. Then a monk would come back with fresh food. The man scowled at the monks, but in return he received another benevolent smile. The man could bear his curiosity no longer. He asked the ever happy monks if he could talk to the abbot.

The abbot came to the man's room. Immediately, the man tossed not plates of food at the Abbot, but sincere questions. "Why do all of you smile so much? Every time you give me food, I throw it at one of you. It's not old, dry, or tasteless food either! And after that? He cleans it up! What more, he smiles again! Why do you smile at me even when I've been so mean to all of you? Why do you persist?!"

The wise Abbot simply gave the man another smile. "Why? Because we love you." The Abbot the preceded to teach the man about God, and how and why Jesus died on the cross. The man listened with awe and wonder, the bitterness in him slowly dripping away. The Abbot finished, leaving the man in quiet wonder. The Abbot excused himself, leaving the man to ponder all that the Abbot had said. He then made a resolve to repay the monks' kindness. For the first time in a while, he got out of bed.

It was Christmas season, and the monks had a tradition: to make a gift for the Christ Child. They would then place the gift under the statue of Mary holding the Child. The monks were busy making their gifts, a long stately poem, a beautiful cake, glittery candles, a delicate painted vase, and many more. The man, of course was welcome to stay. As he sat in his room, however, he wondered what he could give the Christ Child. He spent many hours wandering the monastery, in search of an inspiration. Christmas Eve night soon came and the monks were in the chapel for prayers. The man stood sorrowfully in front of the magnificent statue, gifts of the monks surrounding the base. What could he possibly give? He suddenly spotted three balls. It filled him with joy. When he was traveling from town to town, his main source of meager income had been begging and juggling. He wondered if he should juggle for the Christ Child. There was only one way to find out.

Three balls soared up into the air as the man juggled them. The man soon remembered his skill well, and when he became more sure of himself, he picked up the delicate vase and added it to his three balls. He picked up the candles, the poem, and even the cake! Soon all the monks' gifts were in the air, flying in the circular pattern. Until a voice upset the man's concentration. The man, surprised and scared stopped juggling. Down came the stately poem, down came the balls, down came the candles, vase and cake. The man turned around. One monk, hearing the sounds from the man's juggling, had come to investigate. The monk could take it no longer, this man had mistreated them for a long time, and the monks had borne it, but at the sight of the monks' hard work being tossed in the air was too much.

The monk started yelling at the man, who crouched in a ball, trying to drown out the monk's harsh tirade. In the midst of the monk's scolding, the man felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. The man looked up and gasped. The statue of Mary and the Child Jesus had come to life. The monk ceased in midsentance. The Child was gently patting the man, the most beautiful smile on the Child's face. The Child spoke, and the voice was laughing, gentle, and full of authority. "Do it again," he clapped "That was the best present this year!"

Therese's Roses, this should be easy for you!
I'm going to stop again, sorry!
It's hard to concentrate with a cold....

What Breed of Puppy are You?

Um.... the post is malfunctioning....

You Are a Golden Retriever Puppy

Tolerant, fun-loving, and patient.

You are eager to please - and attached to your frisbee.

Still working on the Three King's Gifts post, it'll be there soon, I hope.

Monday, January 8, 2007

The Three Kings' gifts part I

Last Saturday, we attended a meeting in which Mom had to go in front of everyone and talk about Blessings & Eucharistic Adoration. About how God blesses us, especially when we are obedient. She did pretty well, since she's non really a public speaker. In fact, after her speech, everyone congratulated her. Well done Mom!

After her speech, another speaker, Father Mark, spoke about The Call to Holiness. Since it was Epiphany, he taught us these stories about the three wise men's gifts and how they could help us lead better lives. Can you figure out their meanings?

Long ago, three wise men set out to follow the star that would lead them to the Child Jesus. However, there was a fourth. He too, set out to give the Child the gift of thousands of priceless jewels. He had ventured some while after the other three, and was constantly trying to catch up.

At last, he came to a town. He searched for his companions, only to find that he had missed them. On his way out of the town, he heard a cry. It was a woman, who had been abused by her master for many years. The wise man thought to himself, "Surely I can spare a jewel to pay for her freedom. I have plenty to spare"
So he freed her, bought her new clothes, and helped her start a better life, then continued with his journey contented with himself for doing a good deed.

He then came to another town, only to find once again he had missed the other three. One way or another, he had found another being in need. Once again, he gave one of his many jewels to help the poor one, convinced that he had more than one to spare.

The same events continued for thirty years. Tired, frustrated, discouraged, and with only one precious jewel left, he entered Jerusalem. He looked at his last jewel in despair. "What am I to do now?" he wondered desperately, "The Child surely ought to be an adult by now" he decided to make the journey home. He had heared about a man, convicted for no reason, who was to die. Looking at his last jewel, he made up his mind to help the poor man. Yet, he hesitated. He had traveled so long to give it to the Child, he had been saving it all those years. In his heart, however, he knew what to do.

Purposefully, he marched to where the man was being held. He stopped in his tracks, horrified that he was too late, for there was the man already making his way to Calvary. The man looked up, and the wise man met his eyes. What he realized was amazing. In the man he saw each and every being in need that he had ever helped, and realized that the man before him was the one he had been searching for all those years.
"Whatever you do unto the least of My kin, you do unto Me"

I'll help on this one. Father Mark said the story had two meanings. Whenever we give, we shouldn't give whatever excess of wealth we have. we should give as much as we can, and it will come back to us tenfold. The second meaning is "Whatever you do for the least of My kin, you do unto Me."

There was once a young prince who lived a perfect life. He was good wealthy, handsome, and about to marry the most beautiful maiden in all the land. Until a fatal hunting accident marred him for life. His father prohibited him from being seen in public. His brothers, who had been intimidated by him, were laughing at him, taunting him until he could bear it no more. Worst of all, his fiance refused to marry such a hideous man. One night he could take it no more, so he left.

From the person everyone wanted to be, he had gone to the person everyone abhorred. He lived in the streets, begging, sleeping wherever he could, a he was frequently chased away. As he ate scraps from tables, he thought of the most delicious food he was used to, served steaming hot, mouth watering and rich in flavor. As he slept in doorways, he dreamed of soft warm beds, made of the softest feathers. Only to wake up cold, stiff, and hungrier than before.

Soon, he became bitter, ill-tempered, resentful of others, and gravely sick.

Yikes, it's dinner time already!

Sorry, I'll have to post the rest later.

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

Saint Therese movie website

Picture from patron Saints Index

I know the movie came out two years ago now, but it is still one I'll never forget.

The music was wonderful (I always have to listen to the music)

and the movie leaves you with a lump in your throat, joy in your heart, and a special place for St. Therese.

Follow this link to the movie's website:

I'll write a review sometime, but if you, reader, want to, please do!