Monthly Archives: March 2006

Oscar Research

In email correspondence with Gordon and Paul, they both note that they mostly went with the picks in Entertainment Weekly, with minor variations.

Oscars

Again this year we go to Dana & Lois’s house for the Oscar party. Gordon & Babs & Ally are there, along with Dana, Lois, Mark and some guy named Steve. We fill out our ballots, Dawn making all personal picks while I go with what buzz I’ve stolen from the Los Angeles Times, since we’ve seen exactly zero movies up for awards tonight. Dawn & I love Jon Stewart, so we really like him as host. The rest of the crowd are not fans, so they just think he’s so-so.

There are a lot of commercials for L’Oreal, with Andie MacDowell and Penélope Cruz. I keep waiting and waiting, and complaining bitterly, for Aishwarya Rai to appear, and finally she does, although there’s too much discussion and talk of the product and not enough Ash. Babs mentions that Ash is engaged, to whoever is the biggest male Bollywood star. I hadn’t heard this, and I wonder who it could be. She used to be sorta engaged to Salman Khan, but since she’s Hindu and he’s Mulsim, that would never happen. The biggest Bollywood star is probably Shahrukh Khan. But, again, probably Muslim. The only other name I can think of is Aamir Khan.[1]

I’m disappointed that out of all the clips they show of Brokeback Mountain, we never see the lovers kiss. The clips from the rest of the movies are fairly dull, although I do now want to see Good Night and Good Luck and Crash.

At the end of the night, I’ve got 20 out of 25 right, and Gordon and I tie for first place in the pool. Dawn is disgusted with me for not having any picks of my own and just going with the LA Times.[2] Even Ally has seen more of the movies than I have. I tell everyone that it’s like I’m eight years old again, not having seen any of the movies and having trouble staying up way past my bedtime. The show ends at a civilized 11:30 or so, but we have to drive back home to the city, so it’s after midnight by the time we crawl into bed.

[1] Research the next day reveals that Ash may, or may not, be engaged to Abhishek Bachchan. While he has finally started demonstrating some star wattage after a number of years in the business, I don’t know if he could yet be called the biggest male star. He is more famous, of course, for being the son of the biggest star of them all, the king of all time, the most famous man in the world, Amitabh Bachchan. And, apparently, the three Khans are all already married. But, turns out, Salman Khan has two wives.

[2] The next morning I find my notes of my research on Friday for my Oscar picks. I realize that, because of the way the first page of my printout breaks, I screwed up my vote for best foreign language picture. I was supposed to have gone with Tsotsi, and Tsotsi did indeed win. And I had thought the LAT’s clear choice was Paul Giamatti for supporting actor, but a closer look clearly shows that Giamatti and George Clooney had tied in the critics’ picks. I would totally have gone with Clooney had I realized that at the time. That’s two more that I should have gotten. (I screwed up a third one, just plain mis-marking cinematography for Batman Begins rather than Brokeback Mountain. But Memoirs of a Geisha won, so I would’ve been wrong anyway.)

Parish Morning Retreat

The main reason I worked out yesterday rather than my usual Saturday was so that I could attend the retreat at the Washington Theological Union. Not just a good chance to get a start start on the Lenten season, the retreat also features Christ McCullough, formerly of St. Matt’s and now living in Nashville. Chris’s wife Amy is studying for a PhD at Vanderbilt, is why they moved away. They also just had a son, Luke, 21 weeks ago now.

Chris talks about Lent having three movements. There’s sin, then repentance, then reconciliation. I like how he uses the term ‘movements,’ sort of like the season is a symphony. He talks about how these movements are echoed in the three readings for mass tomorrow, the first Sunday of Lent.

First is a reading from Genesis 9, 8-15, where God speaks to Noah and his sons. “I will establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all bodily creatures be destroyed by the waters of a flood,” He says. The second reading is from 1 Peter 3, 18-22. “God patiently waited in the days of Noah during the building of the ark, in which a few persons, eight in all, were saved through water.” The Gospel reading is from St. Mark 1, 12-15.

The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert,
and he remained in the desert for forty days,
tempted by Satan.
He was among wild beasts,
and the angels ministered to him.

After John had been arrested,
Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God:
“This is the time of fulfillment.
The kingdom of God is at hand.
Repent, and believe in the gospel.”

So, going into the forty days of Lent, we read about the 40 days of floodwaters and the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert. St. Peter tells us that the eight saved through water was a prefigure to baptism, which saves us all now. He goes on to say that baptism “is not a removal of dirt from the body but an appeal to God for a clear conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.” And Lent is a time for cleansing, and especially a time to appeal to God for a clear conscience.

Chris says something very interesting about sin and dirt, or sin as dirt. He says that we have to embrace our dirt, weird as that sounds. That which is most shameful to us, where we are most sinful, that’s where we find Christ. That’s where we find our cross, he says.

And that immediately strikes me as an awfully compelling way to see it, something that resonates with me and is helpful. The Lord tells us in St. Matthew, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.” I always think of it, that taking up the cross, as acting like Jesus, or suffering for others like Jesus. And short of becoming a priest, or going to Calcutta and joing the Missionaries of Charity, how can I ever feel like I’m doing enough, like I’m taking up the cross and following Christ? But, thinking about it now, and in the context of what Chris said, Jesus says that one must deny himself and take up his cross. Not the cross, but one’s own cross. And maybe one’s own cross isn’t doing good works, it’s working on oneself.

But not working on oneself in a self-help or new age self-actualization kind of way, but working on oneself in relationship to God. Working on one’s sins. And there you go. There’s Lent. Moving from sin to repentance, from penance to reconciliation with God.

And later Monsignor celebrates mass for us in the WTU chapel. Chris had asked us to write down our offering for Lent, to offer at mass. I didn’t really do that so much as write down a petition, asking God to call me like he called to Samuel, where Samuel replies, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” And, funny enough, we begin mass with a gathering song called The Summons, the first line of which is “Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?”

Maureen asks if I’ll help serve at mass, helping Monsignor with the gifts. I’m self-conscious and don’t want to do it, and worry about doing something wrong, but I do it along with a woman named Patty. And neither of us really knows what we’re doing, but Monsignor helps us through it.

And it was good to see Chris, and Pat Durham was there, and Barbara Reck too. I’m glad about the day and about Lent.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

My father, Robert Joseph, born 4 March 1939, in Toledo OH, the second son of Virgil Paul and Laura Catherine Bohls of Toledo, known to them as Bobby or even Bobby Joe, as an adult generally known as Bob, turns 67 today.

A graduate of Central Catholic High School in 1957, he went on to a bachelor’s degree in mathematics from the University of Toledo, graduating first in his ROTC class and receving a commission in the United States Army. In 1968 he received a master’s degree in operations research from the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey CA, then served a tour of duty in Vietnam. He retired in 1982 after 22 years of service. Afterwards an executive with FMC Corporation, he now is a professor at the Defense Acquisition University at Fort Belvoir in Virgnia. In 2004 he earned a doctorate of education from George Mason University in Fairfax VA.

One of my earliest, earliest memories, if not the earliest memory I have, is watching my father sweep the front porch of the apartment where we lived. I remember when I was around ten or so, if my brother and I would help him with yard work on a hot summer day, we’d get to drink some from a can of Budweiser. When I was a teenager we used to play racquetball, and I never could beat him.

Friday Workout

Had a good workout today. I’m doing the overhead press (at XPressLine station 5) a lot more these days, along with the Cybex fly machine, trying to combine more things at once, rather than using the more focussed Cybex curl and the tricep machines. I still do the StairMaster for 22 minutes. I’ve been searching for something that will do abs and lower back without hurting my back at the same time, but I’m still not satisfied with anything so far.

At my gym, Washington Sports Club, they have a little video screen on each cardio machine, where you can plug in your headphones and watch TV or the music videos. I usually try and find like Turner Classic Movies or American Movie Classics, with some old cowboy movie or noir or something like that.

The showers at the Connecticut Avenue club are nicer than the ones at 20th & M, but I for some reason prefer the ones at 20th & M. Maybe it’s because they’re fully tiled rather than plastic, although the tiled showers are fully enclosed and pretty dark compared to the more open plastic ones.

Either way the showers are pretty small. So I turn the shower on and get wet and then turn the shower off to soap up, so that I can turn this way and that and work up a good lather without being under the stream of the water, since there’s no place to get away from the water, it being so small. I hate touching my arm or back to the tile or the shower curtain, though. It’s cold and clammy and I shiver if I do it.

Happy Birthday, Erin!

Erin Danielle Lawler turns 25 today. My niece is actually down in Florida with her mom (my sister) and grandmother (my mom). Erin graduated from Ramapo State College of New Jersey, with a bachelor’s degree in graphic design.

She blogs (of course she does – she’s 25) but she asks that family members not read her blog. I find that strange and funny, but then I remember that I don’t even tell my family that I blog. Well, except for my wife. In fact, she’s the only person who’s invited and therefore able to read the thing. (Hi, Dawn). So I kinda understand Erin’s viewpoint as well.

So then that makes me wonder why I’m writing this and to whom. And the why is because it’s more like a diary, and I decided that it would be fun to try to keep a diary for a year. So that’s why each entry is dated, although astute readers will notice that the date of the entry and the date it’s actually posted rarely match. And to whom is that I imagine that I’m writing for a readership, although I know that I’m not. (Again, hi, Dawn).

Maybe I think I’ll let somebody else read it someday? Maybe I should invite someone now? Maybe Gordon?

But then I wonder about burdening someone with the task of reading my blog. Like I don’t especially like reading my brother’s blog, because it’s a vile rant o’ hate, but I sometimes check in with it. But he’s sometimes disappointed in me for not reading it. And so I’d hate to ask Gordon, Did you read such and such entry, and find out that I’m just not that interesting and no, he hasn’t seen it.

And then there’s the fact that I know my neice has a blog and I don’t read it. Not because she’s asked me not to read it, but because I don’t really think to read it. I mean, I actively avoid my brother’s blog, but I just don’t think that much about Erin’s blog. I remember it every so often and then dip in and read a bit, and then I’m off again. It was only today that I noticed the banner that asked family members and co-workers not to read it. And then that makes me feel guilty, like I’m not interested enough in my niece’s life.

But then again I’m really not that interested in her life. I mean, I’m interested, but not like these really private thoughts, every day, interested. And mostly her blog is, generally, to me, somewhat incomprehensibe. There are a lot of lyrics to songs I don’t know from bands I don’t know. And stylistically she’s often dense and elliptical, deliberately so, no doubt, but I just don’t understand it a lot of the time. In general, it’s not for me, not for my understanding.

Oh, I don’t know. It’s a complicated and weird subject, actually. She doesn’t want me to read it, but I do, but then I don’t, and then I feel guilty, when I shouldn’t. Crazy, huh?

UPDATE: Now that I’ve transferred this year’s posts to Blogger, some of the above no longer really applies. Anyone can read it, and the date stamping is different here. But there’s like millions of blogs here, so no one does read it. I don’t think. Or I don’t know.
3/28/2006 4:20 p.m.

Ash Wednesday

Dawn and I are up a little early to make it to 8:00 a.m. mass at St. Matt’s. And instead of walking where we normally do, me to Judiciary Square and Dawn to Metro Center, we simply stroll the two blocks to our local Metro station Stadium/Armory and ride to Farragut West. Poor Dawn is already feeling headachy, not a pleasant way to start the day on a day of fasting.

We arrive for Mass just barely after the procession begins, but, since it’s one of the early masses, there’s plenty of room for us in our usual spot in the east transept by the organ. No choir for us yet; they’re back for the 12:10 p.m. mass with the Cardinal. And no singing either, just reciting the responsorial psalm and the Gloria and Lord’s Prayer and whatnot. I like singing better.

For ashes we get “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel.” I can’t remember if I’ve ever gotten “Remember you are dust and to dust you will return.” Our ashgiver dude is not nearly as generous as Monsignor in his smearing technique. Our forehead crosses look like they’ll barely last past lunch, whereas Monsignor’s folks may never get theirs to scrub off.

The homeless man who was begging for alms outside before Mass comes in and sits near us in time for the Lord’s Prayer. He kneels after the Agnus Dei then splits when communion begins. He was somewhat crabby when we passed him by on our way in, so I make sure to give him something after we leave.

I love Ash Wednesday and having the cross on my forehead all day. I like the clubbiness of the ashes, spotting someone else on the street and knowing that they’re Catholic too. And, as Tina Fey pointed out once, it’s the day Catholics get to freak out their co-workers. Tait asks me about it. Sadly, my dashing young protege Kate never makes it to work, so she misses it.

For the 5:30 Mass I return to St. Matt’s to be an usher. I arrive about 20 minutes early and am surprised at the sparse attendance, but by 5:30 the place is packed. And by 5:40 the place is overflowing. My assignment is section B in the west transept.[1] I’m not trained in proper seating etiquette, so I let people fend for themselves. But I am to usher them to ashes and communion, as well as take up the collection. Come time for ashes I’m a little disappointed that my help is not especially necessary, as people seem pretty clued in as to where to line up and from whom to get their ashes. This is mostly a function of having enough ministers to do the ashes, and enough for communion as well. Luckily, I’m a little more useful during the collection.

I spot a coworker Sasha down back in the nave, by the St. Anthony Chapel. I had invited her to come and am pleased that she did in fact come. I’m able to chat briefly with her at Mass’s end. Then we all have to dash because they seem to be starting the 7:00 p.m. Spanish Mass like 20 minutes early.

I look for ashes on the train home but don’t see any. Mine are fading but holding in there. We have soup at dinner, but no wine with it like we usually would have, only water. No ice cream for dessert, although we do have a soda pop each.

A good day.

1 This is over by the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, one of the two chapels in the Cathedral that I’ve never been in. The other is the Chapel of Holy Angels, which is upstairs off the Sacristy, and I’m not sure when we’re allowed up there. The Blessed Sacrament Chapel I’m just afraid to go in. Once, when we were giving Kevin and his mom and aunt a tour of the Cathedral, I admitted to Dawn that I was afraid to go in there and that she had to take them there. “I’m not going in there!” she cried in horror.