Quick Takes (whatever day I finally post this)

...and I'm sick once again. I should just schedule blogger to auto-post an "I'm sick" post about once a month. It would probably be right most of the time.

The entire family is dying of the Lung Crud. This time, Anthony was patient zero, and I followed shortly after. Odd, though, that Anthony got sick on Friday, when he hadn't been out of the house since the previous Sunday. How are these germs getting in?

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Stations of the cross have been particularly penitential this Lent. I have somehow managed to always end up in front of a family who follows along at their own pace, disregarding the tempo set by Father when intoning the Stabat Mater, and who somehow always end up out of sync with the entire rest of the congregation when reading the other parts. It is a special kind of hell, when you are trying to sing or read and someone else is speaking right in your ear at a completely different speed. It's akin to the torture room described by C.S Lewis in That Hideous Strength, which had patterns of dots on the ceiling and floor, which didn't quite line up. It seems designed to break down your will.

I wonder of the CIA has ever tried that as an "enhanced interrogation technique". That or smearing potential terrorists' backs with bacon grease, waiting a couple days, then popping any back pimples that form. Cause gorram that would make me talk in a hurry.

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Tuscany Press: the Tuscany Prize for Catholic Fiction.

What do you think? Should I enter "The Wrong Side"?

(Sort of the idea behind "The Wrong Side", but on a millennial scale.)

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Of course, it's not a Quick Take/Miscellany/Dump post without memes:

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Speaking of conclaves, Mom linked this on her Facebook wall, so you should all know about it. My pick was Cardinal Ouellet as Pope Gregory XVII, on day 4. He's not necessarily my first choice, but I was going by likelihood and had heard a lot of buzz about him. A lot of other people, apparently, agree. Not sure who my actual first pick would be. Dolan or Burke would be awesome, as would Turkson. Whoever it is, I hope he keeps up B16's (bingo!) encouragement of the Extraordinary Form of the Mass.

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If you follow The Murloc on facebook, you'll have seen pictures from her latest project, but I'll share them here just the same. She decorated a new friend's little girl's dress and crown and also made a cake for her princess-themed 7th birthday party.

Silvery crown with pink and yellow swarovski crystals (yes, each of those were glued on one by one).

Satin and daisies added to the edge, pearls down the front, and a large satin ribbon for the middle.

Satin and daisies, with crystals trimming the side bustles (not sure what the technical term for those are).

Satin and daisies, with lace for the bottom.

Two-tiered cake. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and pink and yellow fondant. Gluten/soy/mostly-dairy (organic butter used) free cake! And it was YUMMY!

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I was struck with an awesome thought Sunday a couple weeks ago. While listening to the Vox Caelestis women's ensemble, it occurred to me how many countless saints in heaven had sung this same glorious music we sing every Sunday. And, it occurred to me, that many of them likely sang it for the same reasons I do; because it gives such joy to hear beautiful music in praise of God.

I began wondering if they still sing it, and still take joy in hearing it. I recalled the universality of the Mass—participated in by the whole communion of saints—and realized that, when singing at the Mass, my voice is not alone, but is joined by the "great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue."

I'm not singing alone, but am joined by that choir boy who lived in the 17th century, and whose voice cracked during the Asperges Me in the same place mine did; by the medieval canoness, who would also get impatient at people who sang to slowly; and by the Ugandan convert, who did not sing in any great cathedral or church, whose voice was greater than any modern pop music star, and of whom no one today knows existed.

"And that," as Gandalf would say, "is an encouraging thought."