The Gospel of Jesus’ Wife

As we approach Easter, the Momma of the Man Cave would like to weigh in on this:

On September 18, 2012, HDS Professor Karen L. King announced the existence of a papyrus fragment dubbed “The Gospel of Jesus’s Wife” at the International Coptic Congress in Rome.” – Harvard Divinity School web site

Now, there’s plenty of debate as to whether the papyrus is authentic, whether or not “wife” refers to an actual female life partner or to the church. I can’t say WHICH analysis is correct here…

… But I CAN shed light on what likely FOLLOWED what Professor King found: ““Jesus said to them, ‘My wife…’”

UH-HEM: Continue reading

That moment when you realize your boy is becoming a man

Pokemon cards © Heather Bosch MediaMe: Hopping up on my youngest son’s bed, “What-cha doin’?”

Youngest son: “Just going through my Pokémon cards.”

Ah, Pokémon. He’s been collecting them since he could talk. Many a Pokémon playing cards have been stuffed into Christmas stockings, wrapped neatly as birthday presents, or presented as a congratulatory “Hey I know spelling isn’t your best subject, but you got 7 out of 10, right? Nice!”

“See,” he tells me, “THIS one is rare. It’s really cool. “

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My baby boy plays football

football-9-27-2014-sThe  Man Cave entered a new era today. My youngest son played his first ‘at home’ high school football game.

This is a MUCH different experience than being in the stands rooting for my favorite NFL team (see my earlier post about crazy Seahawks fans) and even different from the high school games I attended as a teen.

No, this game featured MY BABY BOY, though well padded , facing potential tackles from the other team. The other team, in this case, is from across the island and full of Irish-American kids. GIANT Irish-American kids. I swear we were playing the Notre Dame farm team. Our team was notably smaller. The “center” might have been four-foot-nine. If he put “lifts” in his football cleats. “He’s little but tough,” my son insisted, “like a rabid Chihuahua.” Fitting, since he appeared to be no taller than the opposing teams’ shins. Continue reading

Awkward Man Cave sports discussion

footballMy son went to his first High School football practice, today. This was no easy task as he had to convince ME — the Man Cave Momma — to let him turn out for a sport that can be dangerous. Yes, I know all sports can be dangerous. But I’ll bet even Marshawn Lynch’s mom cringes when the fourth or fifth opposing player attaches himself to the Herculean running back’s legs in an attempt to stop him while in BEAST MODE.

Fortunately there is plenty of safety gear, from helmet to pads, and most of it is provided by the school. However my son informed us we needed to purchase . . . Let’s say “something commonly used in sports to protect the manly nether regions.” The conversation that followed went a little like this: Continue reading

A birthday in the Man Cave

William's first birthday (C) Bosch MediaMy youngest son turns a year older this week. I now have two adolescent boys firmly planted in the Man Cave.

Growing teenaged boys are so like one-year-old Labradors. All feet, lanky legs and not sure what to do with it all. They run away, independently… but just “so far…” Then they come back, give you that wide-eyed hopeful look that says, “You still love me, right?” Continue reading

Thank you, Maestro for bringing back the magic of music

Curtis High School orchestrat - May - 2014Music has always been part of the Man Cave. From lullabies for baby boys to piano lessons, guitar, violin and singing.

I brought music into the Man Cave because I was brought up with it. My love for music began in childhood but hit an early roadblock. A seemingly big, impenetrable roadblock in the form of a very negative orchestra teacher. I’ll spare you the details but our local junior high and high school orchestras dwindled from 40 members to 4 in less than a handful of years.

Enter Joel Westgaard.

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The lady with the ‘blong’ hair


Heather’s Mom, December 1973

When I was a wee girl of about six, my class was assigned to write something about our mothers. “My mother has ’blong’ hair,” I wrote. The teacher floated by my desk and said, “What’s that word?”
“Blong,” I said.
“Honey, that’s not a word. Do you mean long? Do you mean brown?”
“No BLONG,” I insisted. But she changed the words to “long brown hair,” which was not at ALL what I was trying to describe. Continue reading

The Mom nose knows

noseAccording to scientists, the human nose can detect one TRILLION different odors, far more than previously thought. As the Mom of the Man Cave, this comes as no surprise. Stay with me. Odors in a Man Cave aren’t necessarily BAD. There’s the scent that shows hubby has splurged for the lovely maple-y flavored bacon; the scent of fresh clean baby boy — my FAVORITE when the little men were very little; and the scent of freshly scrubbed home.

But being the Mom of the Man Cave means I have developed not only an extra set of eyes, but extra-sensitive nostrils. I would wager that women who live in Man Caves can detect a QUADRILLION different scents.

Continue reading