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Catholic World News reports: "A former chancellor of the Manchester, New Hampshire diocese, who last year resigned from his post as president of the St. Luke Institute, has been sentenced to a 4-year prison term after pleading guilty to theft charges. Msgr. Edward Arsenault admitted to stealing funds from the Manchester diocese, from the estate of a fellow priest, and from a hospital where he had served on the board. Under a plea-bargaining agreement he will serve 4 years in a New Hampshire prison. As chancellor of the New Hampshire diocese, Msgr. Arsenault was the top aid to Bishop John...

Busier'n a blind, one armed paper hanger balancing on one foot, stretched out 12 feet in the air hanging from the top rung of a ladder, precariously perched and thanking God for the opportunity

More on the Clintons' house- hunting. I already told you they're looking in Westchester and want more land and a bigger -- a really big big bigger -- place. Something to fit their nowaday finances and someday future. We're talking like his 'n' hers wings. And there are rules for allowing them into a house you still own to determine if they might want it. While mansion owners are rarely nobodies, the rules are they -- whoever they may be -- must vacate the premises when Jack and Jill and Hill and Bill come to look. However, the staff (Like,...

RICHWOODS — When Shawn Hornbeck first walked through the doorway of his family's new home Tuesday evening, his jaw dropped and he backtracked right out of the house. A moment later, he opened the front door again, still smiling ear-to-ear and headed straight toward his new room. He was floored again. Shawn stood outside the blue room, with its small plasma television mounted on the wall, an encased poster of his favorite movie, "The Fast and The Furious," and an iTunes home audio system on his dresser. Excerpt- See link for rest of story and photo of house.

PHOENIX, Nov. 3, 2006 – In grand fashion, “Packages From Home” welcomed dignitaries and guests to the grand opening of its new digs on the Phoenix Memorial Hospital campus yesterday. Jordan Leigh (left) performs “Soldier I Thank You,” her tribute to the troops, Nov. 2 in Phoenix during the grand opening of a new facility for “Packages From Home,” a nonprofit group that supports the troops. Leigh lost her brother in the global war on terrorism. Her mother, Terri Schall, (center), and Margy Bons, a public information officer for Packages From Home, look on. Photo by Samantha L. Quigley  '(Click...

WASHINGTON, Oct. 2, 2006 -- In just a few short months, the Phoenix-based Packages From Home organization has found a new home and a new sponsor, the group’s director of marketing and media relations said. Packages from Home, an Arizona-based troop support organization, recently moved into a new 3,100-square-foot facility. Phoenix Memorial Hospital is donating the space rent and utility free for a year with the possibility of a renewal at the end of the term. Courtesy photo  '(Click photo for screen-resolution image);high-resolution image available. Packages From Home began as a mother’s labor of love in March 2004, with sending...

<p>We're moving. I blame my daughter. She's only 5 months old but she has somehow acquired, at a conservative estimate, 250 million toys. Every morning, there seem to be more of them. I suspect they're having some kind of battery-powered sex while we sleep. These toys make a lot of noise. In my youth, toys were passive lumps of wood or metal that were silent unless you whacked your brother on the head with them. But today's toys contain computer chips, so they can move and talk; this stimulates the mind of your child. Notice I say ''your child.'' MY child just wants to eat the toys. For example, she has an electronic Pooh bear who moves his head and says things like, ''Would you like to play with me?'' This stimulates my daughter to try to put Pooh's head into her mouth. Any day now, Pooh will hold up his paws and scream, ''NOOOO!'' But that will not stop my daughter. She is the Great White Shark of babies. But my point is this: We have a smallish house, and we work at home, and it's hard to concentrate when the floor is covered with toys that are constantly trying to strike up conversations. So I called our Realtor and said: ``We need to move.'' Now a truly compassionate Realtor, upon hearing these words, would have shot me in the head. Instead, our Realtor found us a larger house. We liked it immediately, although it needed a Little Work. ''It just needs some paint,'' I told my wife. I can look at a house and know exactly what it needs, because in fifth and sixth grades, I took Wood Shop. So we had a Paint Guy look at the house. He told us -- and we knew he was an expert, because he had a clipboard -- that before he could paint it, it needed some carpentry work. So we had a Carpentry Guy look at the house. He also had a clipboard. ''You see this?'' he asked me, poking at a board. From my perspective, it looked no different from all the other boards in the house. From my perspective, the entire HOUSE was random boards. But the Carpentry Guy was looking at this board with the facial expression of a man stuck in an elevator with the national leadership of the Big Flatulent Persons Support Group. ''When we take this board off,'' he said, ominously, ``there's no telling WHAT we're gonna find.'' I wanted to say, ''So let's not take it off!'' But I didn't want him to think that I was not a manly masculine Wood Shop graduate. The Carpentry Guy said that, before he could start dismantling the house, we needed to have somebody look at our windows. So we had the Windows Guy come out. He was visibly shaken. I thought he was going to drop his clipboard. Apparently our windows have some kind of deadly window leprosy. They must be replaced immediately with new windows, which, to judge from the price and delivery date, will be made from gem-quality diamonds on another planet. Did I mention the Termite Guy? No? Well, he believes that termites might be eating our house. So we are going to ''tent'' the house, which involves surrounding it with a giant tent, filling it with a deadly gas, and then having the homeowners crawl inside and mercifully kill themselves before they can write any more checks. No, that would be wrong. We have a job to finish. To make our new house habitable, we have to contact the Roof Guy, the Electricity Guy, the Plumbing Guy, the Gas Guy, the Alarm Guy, the Tree Guy, the Moving Guy, and all the other guys THEY will want us to contact. The clipboard industry is depending on us! Meanwhile, we need to sell our old house. When people come to look at it, we scurry around hiding any possessions that would suggest to a prospective buyer that we are not Martha Stewart. For example, in our bathroom (this is true) we hide the big bottle of Plax mouthwash. We want prospective buyers to think, ``It's a nice house! And the owners apparently have had no problems with dental plaque!'' My big fear is that, when prospective buyers poke their heads into our daughter's room, the toys will start talking to them. ''These people are really slobs!'' Pooh will shout. ``They're hiding their Plax under the bathroom counter! Also, their daughter wants to eat my head!'' All I can say is, Pooh had better keep his fuzzy little mouth shut. Because I took Wood Shop. And I have a hammer.</p>