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Locked on 07/13/2004 9:52:11 AM PDT by Admin Moderator, reason:
Hobbit Hole XIII: http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-chat/1170490/posts |
Posted on 06/26/2004 8:07:15 AM PDT by HairOfTheDog
Special Wedding Edition: The Hobbit Hole XI - No One Admitted Except on Wedding Business!
New verse:
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Upon the hearth the fire is red, |
Still round the corner there may wait |
Home is behind, the world ahead, |
ROTFL!! I know what you mean! I don't mind if folks have their kids at Mass, what I don't like is when they allow them to chatter constantly and in a LOUD voice. There are only a couple of times when there should be quiet, and the kids can learn this if their parents will only TEACH them. If the kids can't behave, there's a place for the parents to take them where they (the parents) can still see Mass, though because of the noise of the other kids, they can't hear it very well.
When Joseph was small, we took him every so often, but when he was too young to keep still, we stopped taking him until he got old enough to understand. He did fine when we began taking him again at about age 5, and explained what was going on to him.
Right...Joshua doesn't nap through worship anymore...stopped doing that when he was four...but he does just fine. Sits quietly. He doesn't have to listen though.
Matthew does have to listen and we question him after church to see what he got out of it. Sometimes he does't get the point, but he can at least tell us what was talked about. That's when we tell him the point! :-D
See y'all later! Got some chores to do 'fore the guys get home from swimming...probably see you in the morning.
~barbecue~ is fer eatin', not cookin`
don't make me turn this thread around...
Show off! (nicely done)
I haven't had any trouble with birds eating them...yet. Kept the bugs off with Sevin and the squirrels and chipmunks away with pepper spray. Supposedly the marigolds help too...right?
Plus we've got a bird feeder just a few feet from the maters. Maybe the birds think since dinner is already fixed they don't need to cook...
That'll be just fine, but I've been told marigolds wouldn't come back here...
bar·be·cue (bärb
-ky
)
n.
- A grill, pit, or outdoor fireplace for roasting meat.
- A whole animal carcass or section thereof roasted or broiled over an open fire or on a spit.
- A social gathering, usually held outdoors, at which food is cooked over an open flame.
Oh shure, that werks if'n yer usin' a damnyankee dictionary...
It'd be silly to use anything other than a damnyankee dictionary up here in damnyankee land, wouldn't it! ~smiles~
Well, yuh got the silly part right...
I want the fives before Bear get's 'em...
I want the fives before Bear get's 'em...
Yikes
Would tomorrow be a good day to move? Might be a bit of a shock on a Monday tho...
And a funkle that's born on the Sabbath day
Is blithe and bonny and good and...oh wait...nevermind...
Babies were always in the sanctuary when I went to church. If a baby "went off," the parent was expected to go to a waiting room and calm 'em down. There was a speaker in the room, so that they'd know what was happening; but those babies were expected to be in the sanctuary as much as possible.
When I was a kid, we all went to church. I went to Sunday School once I could sit still for short periods of time and color --- about 3, I guess --- and my parents went to adult Sunday School. At the Methodist church I attended then, every class started at 9:30, every age group had a separate room, and everybody worked on the same Sunday School lesson, modified to suit the age of the students. Then, at 10:30, we all met back up in the overflow room just off the sanctuary and every group got to demonstrate something from the lesson for the preacher. That took us up to 10 minutes till 11, just enough time for the bathroom before church started.
As I got older, I didn't want to sit with my parents. Us kids would hog the back pews, and the ushers would glare us into submission when we started acting silly. If the glare didn't work, they would lean in from the aisle and tap you on the shoulder with two white-gloved fingers. And, oh, if Mrs. Evans or Mrs. Foster ... or, worse, Mr. Evans ... had to crook those fingers, and take you out of church, you were d-e-d when you got home!
Have things changed so much?
The plants die every year here. I get new ones from the seeds. Third year now. Same with the tomatos.
BTW we have som e beautiful tomato and potato plants growing in our compost heap.
Spammer
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