Kate's Take on the Wedding

http://crownsathisfeet.blogspot.com/2005/10/wedding-one-i-was-gonna-crash-one-that.html

Delightful perspective...

Pride and Prejudice

So last night, Pete and I watched the new Pride and Prejudice, a movie that had a lot of ground to cover after its previous versions.

Overall, I think I liked it, though with the time constraints, you lost a *lot* in character development. And then there was the slight issue of Elizabeth Bennett adopting the mannerisms of Keira Knightly. While Matthew Macfadyen delivers a very fine Darcy--more mysterious, and more passionate than Colin Firth--Miss Knightly couldn't really pull out of her 20th century self to fit into Austen's era. Donald Sutherland's Mr. Bennett was an affectionate, though badgered country man who dropped his lines out in such an understated fashion you almost wanted him to repeat them to figure out how they fit into the story. Mrs. Bennett was, as usual, annoying, and Kitty and Lydia giggled with the best of them.

I enjoyed the filming, and the sense we gained from the movie of being almost in the room with the story. The distinctions between the Bennetts' society and Darcy's society were much more clearly drawn. With the use of a bit more drama than other versions I have seen, I think the director achieved a flavor of high romance, if he did set propriety at nought for a bit with Lizzie's apparel. I will also admit that I left with a sense of cold and wet, which may have been due to the weather outside last night, but might also be attributed to several scenes filmed in the pouring rain.

I would recommend that you watch this film, but don't expect it to be like any other version you've ever seen. If you accept it as a movie on its own, it does an admirable job of capturing your senses, leaving you with an invitation to continue watching even after the credits start rolling.

Just had to get that out of my system.

Pete's LOTR Character

Congratulations! You're Pippin!

Which Lord of the Rings character and personality problem are you?

Colorado Memories

"And I would tell my children, 'Your mother has the wildness of the mountains in her spirit...'"

We were standing, holding each other, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Colorado. On one of our many drives, we had stopped to visit the scenery (and use the outhouse) in Theodore Roosevelt National Forest. As the wind whipped through our hair and I huddled a bit closer to my husband for warmth, he began to share with me the beauty he sees in my heart. I will never forget that moment...

Pete took me to Colorado, the home of my heart, for our honeymoon. We had originally been planning a trip to Europe, but on Valentine's Day, Pete asked me if I wouldn't rather go to Colorado. Such a gift he gave! My first view of the mountains brought tears to my eyes--I didn't know how homesick I had been until I saw them, waiting for me with the red of the setting sun piercing through the blue and gray and green of the clouds resting on the peaks and drifting into the valleys.

We had arrived at the Denver airport in time to catch sight of the snow as we were flying in. While we were waiting for our shuttle, we enjoyed a rather...uh, lengthy kiss that caught the attention of some passers-by in the shuttle across the way. Pete kissed me to the tune of the whistles and hoots of encouragement! We were officially on our honeymoon, and didn't care if the world knew it!

We spent our days resting in the lodge at Estes Park or driving through the mountains--though Pete did cave and take me shopping a few times! I had my camera, and we were able to take a lot of pictures on our drives, a sampling of which I include below! We both agreed that it was the best trip either of us had ever taken--and it wasn't just because we were married, either! We watched lots and LOTS of movies together, but it was so nice to just rest!

So, without further ado, here is a little photo-journal of our trip!

The Happy Couple

(What can we say? We didn't spend time around people to get our picture taken together!!!)

Rocky Mountain National Park

*grin*

The Driver

Aspens

LONG, long ago, so the legend says, when Joseph and Mary and the Holy Babe fled out of Bethlehem into Egypt, they passed through the green wildwood. And flowers and trees and plants bent their heads in reverence. But the proud aspen held its head high and refused even to look at the Holy Babe. In vain the birds sang in the aspen's branches, entreating it to gaze for one moment at the wonderful One; the proud tree still held its head erect in scorn.

Then outspake Mary, his mother. "O aspen tree," she said, "why do you not gaze on the Holy Child? Why do you not bow your head? A star arose at his birth, angels sang his first lullaby, kings and shepherds came to the brightness of his rising; why, then, O aspen, do you refuse to honor your Lord and mine?"

But the aspen could not answer. A strange shivering passed through its stem and along its boughs, which set its leaves a-quivering. It trembled before the Holy Babe.

And so from age to age, even unto this day, the proud aspen shakes and shivers.

Me--STILL with my wedding pimple...

Colorado Elk: It was mating season... ;-)

Looking at me? Or the mountains?

The Hazards of Driveby Shooting...

Plains and Mountains and Sky

If I had my life to live over I'd like to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax. I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual trouble, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones. You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds, I would pick more daisies. ~Nadine Stair

St. Ambrose

Last night, though Pete and I did not go to an All Saint's Day party planned by my boss, my dear husband found a way to make his presence known. After extensive Internet research on the saint assigned to us, St. Ambrose of Milan, he wrote his own comprehensive history.

I present it here for your review:

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Saint Ambrose: A revised and (the author hopes) more interesting fractured historical account of the Bishop of Milan: his life, ministry, and water ballet skills.

Birth

Saint Ambrose was born. Possibly, though this fact has been argued. 340 is the year which many in the Church believe is the year in which he was born (if at all). Of course, where he was born is a well settled fact. It was in Trier. Or Lyon. Or Arles. Regardless, you now have as much information as I have regarding his birth. It is presumed, though not conclusively documented, that he had a mother; this presumption arises since Mr. Saint Ambrose’s dad was fairly well off and the family could afford one.

Life

Historians enter heated arguments with each other about St. Ambrose’s life, sometimes permitting their rancorous disagreements to spill out into their own personal lives. Their venting often gets them in trouble with their cats, since they frequently yell, “Ambrose’s father was prefect, not perfect!” After these unseemly outbursts, they must usually purchase large quantities of expensive Asian fish with which to placate their offended feline who are terrified by such yelling. The irony, of course, is that Ambrose’s dad doesn’t really enter the picture. He was prefect, but not perfect. His imperfections do not appear to have harmed his prefecture; please disbelieve any fabrications or prefabrications seeking to pierce the fabric of solid truth woven tightly in this hasty history. His father was the prefect of Gaul, to be precise. While perfecting his galling prefecting, he (or rather), his presumed wife, bore three children: Saint Satyrus, Saint Marcellina, and Saint Ambrose. It is often thought that their childhood must have been idyllic, if not heavenly, with such names.

Ambrose was educated in philosophy, in oration, in the classics… and in Rome. He was in Rome because his father, having perfected his prefecting to the point where it could no longer be perfected any further, expired. His family felt Gauled, er, called, to the Eternal City, and continue there for the educational and spiritual benefit of the children. As Ambrose’s academic accomplishments started increasing, so did the number of politicians taking note of his political skills. While some would consider it a shame and disgrace, he decided to enter the legal profession. His oration during legal arguments was so compelling that he was soon sent by Emperor Valentinian to become the consular governor of Liguria and Aemilia. Basic gist: they thought he talked “real perty.” His residence was to be the northern Italian city of Milan. Milan, of course, is the Italian word for “My lawn… no trespassing.”

History recounts Ambrose a kind and gentle leader, which is good, since he, in fact, was kind and gentle. While the consular governor, the bishop of Milan died (prompting the immortal cry, “THERE’S A DEAD BISHOP ON THE LANDIN’!”). * It is interesting to note that at this point in time, Ambrose himself had not yet been baptized into the church, being a catechumen**, another Italian word meaning either “half cat, half human” or “gesunheit.” There was much concern regarding the death of the bishop, namely because of a schism in the faith at the time between the traditional beliefs held by Roman Catholics and beliefs being advocated by followers of Arian (who openly doubted the divinity of Jesus Christ). It was feared by the traditionalists in Milan that an Arian would be appointed to head the church in that city. This fear prompted civil unrest and pleas to the pontiff requesting immediate appointment of a bishop to the Milanese see by papal edict rather than through the usual method of election. Ambrose himself went to the basilica in an attempt to quell the impending violence brought on by the civil unrest. While offering an impassioned plea for unity and peace, the crowd started to call for Ambrose’s appointment to the episcopate! Ambrose, fully realizing his training not equal to the task, promptly did the only thing a self-respecting Frenchman would do. He fled. The crowd, unwilling to accept this as a refusal of their will, chased after him, and announced him their candidate for bishop. Valentinian, knowing Ambrose’s character, approved the Milano’s choice and confirmed his appointment. On December 7, 374, he was baptized and consecrated Bishop of the See of Milan.

Ambrose’s appointment immediately affected his life. He divested himself of his worldly goods (including his collection of “The Gladiators of Gaul” action figures) which prompted his brother, Satyrus, to quit his own job as a prefect and attempt to talk sense into him. Ambrose, however, was more interested in carrying out his ecclesiastical duties than his own physical comforts, and instead accepted Satyrus’ service as administrator of his physical affairs, permitting Ambrose to focus on his own spiritual training.

Ambrose stood firm in doctrine against the assaults of the Arians on the divinity of Christ, wrote liturgical hymns, preached, and, in general did a lot of good things which caused a lot of people in a lot of places to respect him. A lot. He is most famous for his role in the notorious Investiture Controversy, a remarkable achievement, mainly because it occurred 750 years after he died. Because of this, his role was limited, and he is well thought of for not having rendered an inflammatory edict about the matter.

As many people are aware, the Catholic Church and many other denominations practice baptism by sprinkling. Other denominations practice baptism by immersion. While this hasty history seeks not to settle the differences between the two in its short pages, it does wish to point out why Catholics practices baptism by sprinkling.

Ambrose was a Doctor of the Church. There was hardly a man who could have done more in his office, though he considered his life to have been spent doing too little. He titled himself the doctor who “did too little,” and is known as Dr. Doolittle, a self-effacing title and inside joke skillfully crafted into a public relations coup by his personal secretary, Paulinus. About this time, he, along with his friend Saint Monica (the famous “Ragin’ Harmonica” of the Milanese Jazz Scene) began ministering to Augustine, a Hippo. In fact, his masterful communication with Augustine so impressed his associates that his skills in bestiary communication have since become legendary, prompting a recent documentary starring Eddie Murphy in the role of Saint Ambrose’s Doctor Doolittle. Their ministrations to Augustine complete, all that remained was the Hippo’s baptism into the church. When the day came, Augustine, unfortunately, tripped over Ambrose’s miter, and fell into the baptistery, completely soaking himself but sprinkling all the bystanders with the baptistery’s wet contents. To this day, in honor of this kindly bishop and his famous baptizee, the Catholic church practices baptism by sprinkling.

Ambrose faithfully discharged his duties as the Bishop of Milan for 23 years, dying in 397. Despite my ignorant drivel, he remains one of the most respected and revered defenders of the divinity of Christ and of the Church. The basket of Milano cookies are offered for your mutual enjoyment and the memorial of Saint Ambrose, Bishop of Milan.

_______________________________________
*A thousand pardons, I confess to having viewed episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus.
** One who is being taught the principles of Christianity. English equivalent is “padawan.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Following the presentation of the document, Pete had supplied the party-goers with nine different varieties of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies.

As for our own evening?

*grin*

We didn't miss the party. We attended a Japanese steakhouse showing of "Flying Knives and Dinner While You Watch" and ended the evening by reading ourselves to sleep.