So I was lying here on the couch this afternoon, wishing it was quiet enough for a nap but getting quite the opposite with both boys on top of me, grabbing my face and wrestling with each other. They slid over to the front of the couch, still wrestling, when I spotted Mojo with his face against the small of his brother's back, mouth open, ready to sink his teeth in. I stopped him and prepared to make a big deal of it -- when it comes to biting, Mojo has a long rap sheet. But Mojo was in no mood to cop a plea.

"I wasn't going to bite him," Mojo explained. "I was trying to tickle him with my teeth."

I found his story implausible but good. Quite good.

I'm watching the funeral from Rome. It's quite elaborate. I'm drinking a cup of turkish coffee. Every once in a while I look around and slowly say the word: "acupuncture."

Before the power went down in Tuckahoe last night, we attended a Mass celebrated for Pope John Paul II. I thought it was important to bring the boys, espcially Cookie who's named for the man, but I also knew it would be a challenge to keep them quiet for that long so late in the day. They were tired. Mojo was cranky over a runny nose. Cookie is by nature a chattering monkey. Alane dealt with Mojo; I tried to keep Cookie still. He squirmed; he crawled under the pew; he made a lot of noise. And he did something strange... Every once in a while he'd smile wide and turn his face toward me and slowly say the word:

"Acupuncture."

I don't know where he got that or why he was saying it. I thought to myself, "This makes no sense," but then I thought that at Spumoni South it would seem quite normal.

Honest commentators (like Instapundit) have condemned over-the-top language from Sen. Cornyn and others who have been reckless in their criticism of the modern judiciary. Fair enough -- lynching judges is no way to re-establish law.

A similar controversy surfaced nearly 10 years ago. A somewhat obscure periodical called First Things published a symposium that asked several prominent constitutionalists whether the time had come to hoist the pitchforks, light the torches and overthrow the lawless regime of the courts.

Well, maybe the question was a little more nuanced than that; in any case the writers replied no, we should continue to work within the system.

Just posing that question did two things. First, it gave the MSM fits (heh heh). Second, it put an ever-so-slight chill into the spines of some judges. Of course, all those feelings passed quickly and judges went quickly and quietly back to their standard recklessness.

steve...
You are slacking on the blog. We need details.
You are disappointing John.
Oh yeah and congratulations on your pink engagement.

Now there is something to hope for. You know... they prefer to be called little people alane. A little pope would be cool but i hear the odds are on a latin american cardinal or the cardinal from nigeria. Besides how would he wear the hat. its like 2 feet high. The entire process is quite fascinating. I have never witnessed the way this works. I just keep thinking where are all the younger priests? There was almost no one at the processional to St. Peters that was even middleaged. Median age was 70.

So we went to play a little mini golf and hit the batting cage yesterday. We did not go to the driving range as that is an activity we can only do with John. I wait for the day when we can bring John Paul to the driving range. So anyway, Jenia gave up by the 9th hole and pelted the ball out onto Kanner HWy. We didn't hear any crashes so we assume it went unnoticed. There were several shots into the water hazard but the water had a kind of jello quality. Golf balls floated in it. Shouldn't they sink? well it was in stuart. weird things occur there. It was a good time. Ree and marlena passed. I dont think they enjoy the 18 hole putt putt. I then hit the batting cage and was very weary of the testicle area and its vulnerability so i was careful. And they had a helmet that fit me....what a place.

So i went by my dad's house for some real meatballs and an 8hr gravy and was pleasantly surprised by the presentation of pizzaiola. Very good. You must make some for alane. I think he took out his pent up aggression on the lawn guy and fired him. I wish i was there. He told Vin he had never been told he did a bad job before. Heasked the lawn man "Do you think you do a good job?" Ahhh turn the tables. The guy is not very good. He breaks sprinkler heads and chopps up our xmas lights. He never does what you ask. He hired someone new. He hired " THE HIGBY" I am sure there will be stories.

Actually I am Polish and Slovak, but that's ok. I figure most people do not know one Eastern European country from another. Although I' m of the improper heritage, I think my meatballs were pretty good.

I was terribly saddened by the passing of Pope John Paul. He was truly a great man and so few of those walk the earth. I would hate to be the next Pope-it will be hard to top John Paul. I have already heard that he might become John Paul the Great. Although, I'm not sure how this title gets conferred.

I have seen some of the reporting about the odds on favorite for the next pope. I really do not care who is chosen next--another Pole or Eastern European would be nice, but that would be a miracle. However, while viewing those supposedly in contention it caught my eye that one of these holy men was very short in stature. Indeed, he appeared close to midget. Now, I'm fairly devout, but a midget pope would be a faith challenge for me.

Alane is Polish. That's good if you're going to be the pope; not so good if you're going to make the meatballs.

What can you say about gravy that only cooked for three hours?

What can you say about a man who sleeps wearing Banlon socks?

Earlier today we started to explain to Cookie the significance of his namesake the pope. Most of it he won't understand until he's older but he's about to turn five and we can't shelter him from the world anymore -- at least we can introduce him to the idea/reality of greatness (which may later prove a counterbalance to the moral mediocrity of the "role models" that modern culture will subsequently serve up to him).

Such was our lunchtime conversation.

A few minutes ago Cookie wanted to use the TV for his computer game and I told him I wanted to watch the news for a few more minutes. The pope had died today, I explained, and now all the priests were gathering to pray and decide who would be the next pope.

"Will the next pope be named John Paul?" he asked.

"The next pope will probably have a different name," I said -- and that attracted Mojo's attention.

"Pope Joseph?" he asked excitedly, clearly thinking he had a chance at getting the job.

Good try, Mojo. But the world just ain't ready for that.

Alane is a snore-monster. Tonight, she gets her head examined.