Bay leaves

This morning, Tyka, Maren, Maren's dad, and I participated in an activity that shall not be named. I wished I had a camera so I could create a little photo essay for you. It would have looked something like this:

- a sign on the waterfront reading: "caution: water may be contaminated by sewage following rainfall"
- a gaggle of men fishing in a boat in our beautiful river
- a shot of our typically cloudy skies

Maren has the busiest social calendar of anyone I know. She had four eventful thing scheduled for today. When I have a free Saturday, it's generally spent in sloth with some moderate socializing. I remain impressed by the maren-ness of Maren.

After our morning date with Maren, we proceeded to church where we were splashed with water, sprinkled with bay leaves, and fed the manna that is fruit, nuts, bread and port wine. It all leaves you rather exulting and living on a slightly different wavelength.

Caution: the following is what happens when you're giddy and tired and you decide your god-daughter needs an Easter dress:

You go to the Hanna Andersson outlet, the most dangerous place on earth. You intend to purchase one (1) cute dress that fits an almost-two-year-old.

You deliberate between this (in pink) and a cute blue linen sundress (no photo, being outlet and all).

While deliberating, you notice that everything in the women's section is 50% off. Hmm, you've been wanting some long john pants, you think. You find these in orange and white.

Then you find this for $15! Notice how much it costs on the website? Yeah. But for $15? Sold.

You grab a plain brown long sleeve shirt that's practical. You make a last chance phone call to Toni hoping for words of wisdom. No answer. You can't decide between the two dresses for Q, so you get them both.

And that, my friends, is why Hanna Andersson is cotton crack. Toni still says she wants to go there next time she's in town. I think I'll have to leave my wallet at home for that trip.

Bridal chambers

Even though I have not been with you, blogging, be encouraged that you have been with me. I have mentally composed many a blog over the past few days, and I fear I shall never get them all out.

There was much standing in church. There was much singing, and much laughing. Tyka and I are working on a series of faux troparia for your enjoyment. We intend to cover such topics as: banana peels, virginity, the head of John the Baptist, bridal chambers, and so forth.

We've noticed that there's an awful lot of singing about bridal chambers. "I see thy bridal chamber..." which makes sense. In that one it's a place we want to go. Bridal chambers are good things, right? I wouldn't know, but I assume so. But then there's "Jonah lept forth from the monster as from a bridal chamber." Well, I sure don't want a bridal chamber if it's like being swallowed by a sea monster for three days! Huh. We're presented with a very conflicting picture here.

Tyka and I were planning a joint blog yesterday, which will perhaps still come to pass, but I guess it won't be a Good Friday blog anymore. We never managed to sit down together. Contrary to what it seems, we don't really live together. We just pass like ships in the night. If we didn't blog, I'm not sure how we'd keep in touch.

Part of the problem yesterday was the napping. There was a lot of napping happening and we just didn't plan it right. Speaking of naps, that will be the activity that follows this blog. You know, to balance that whole staying up all night thing that will happen tonight.

To be continued...

Little Miss Q 

Admiring their chickens 

Thunderstorms

For Beege, a calendar of this week's services:

Saturday: Matins 8 am, liturgy 9:30 am, vespers 7 pm
Palm Sunday: Matins 8 am, liturgy 10 am, bridegroom service 6 pm
Monday: Pre-Sanctified liturgy 6:30 pm
Tuesday: Matins 6 am, Pre-Sanc 6:30 pm
Wednesday: Matins 6 am, Pre-Sanc 5:30 pm, Unction 7:30 pm
Thursday: Liturgy 2 pm, Passion Gospels 7 pm
Friday: Royal Hours 6 am, Vespers 4 pm, Matins 7 pm
Saturday: Liturgy & baptisms 11 am, Reading of Acts 9 pm, Midnight Office 11:15 pm, Paschal Matins & Liturgy 12 am
Easter Sunday: Vespers 6 pm

There are maybe a few people who go to ALL of those. I am NOT one. Now you can console yourself. Oh, and keep in mind - if services seem close together, that's probably because there's no break in between. And the Holy Saturday liturgy & baptisms? I'd say I get home around 4 or 5 pm. And I tend to come back around 11 pm (because otherwise I'd fall asleep and/or not get a parking spot) and head home between 3 and 4 am.

But those two services? Those are my favorite out of the whole year. And they involve food. At the end of the first one, we bring tables into the church, loaded down with dried fruit & nuts, fresh bread, juice, and port. We’re SO hungry and it’s like the best thing you’ve ever eaten. You get a little tipsy from the port and an empty stomach, and you sit on the steps leading to the altar, and you talk and eat. At the end of the midnight service, we have a big potluck, so that takes up some time.

On to other matters! Tyka, wretch that she is, got "lost" walking home from work and stood me up at the library. Oh well.

I did wear the socks yesterday, with boldness and without condemnation. As I was walking up to church I thought to myself, "Self, this weather is much too fabulous for Holy Week. Where is the somber downpour? Whence the sunshine?" I ended up taking off my socks and shoes just to cool down a little. And lo, just as we began the Unction service, we were joined by the best thunderstorm I've seen since we left Indy in 1987.

According to my memory, thunderstorms in the great city of my birth involved me sitting in a large closet with a friend, carding wool. Yes, you read that right. And hey, another example of closet play! I always think of this when there’s thunder, and I’m pretty sure that’s why I love thunderstorms so much.

But this thunderstorm - it just kept going. First there was the rustle and the heavy spatter of rain in the parking lot, at which point we rushed en masse from the humid church (well, those of us who left our windows down). Then a lovely flash of lightening, and then a noise like God's stomach growling. I could sympathize; mine was pretty growly, too.

Today I was scheduled to babysit the three youngsters, and instead of sitting around and making messes in the house, I took the younger two to OMSI where they rompted and played with sand and water and made pictures with stamps. I could barely keep track of both of them but fortunately they managed to not disappear on me. It's always funny to go places like that where there are a ton of moms and kids but you're not a mom. Especially since they're young enough to theoretically be mine. But nope, I get to drop them off and say 'that was fun!' and go home and blog.

for you! 

Holy & Mercenary

Do you think it's appropriate to wear boldly striped socks to church? (You don't have to answer, I'm guessing anyone who reads this will say YES!) Because I'm going to. The ones you saw yesterday. And for the record, I only wore them briefly yesterday. And I've started this thing where I wear striped socks to the library whenever possible. You know, kids + fun socks. Except the only people who comment on my socks are my coworkers.

(I think I need to remember how to write in complete sentences. Wretch that I am.)

This is the plan for today: I'm working the afternoon at the library, and at some point Tyka shall visit me and we shall peruse the section on adoption books. Doesn't that make it sound like we're thinking of adopting? Surprise! Actually, the point is for her to get a sense of the books that are out there, aimed at adopted kids.

Then, I shall proceed to church and the final and glorious Pre-Sanc, followed by Unction, which is usually the point when it hits me. Whoa. It's really Holy Week. (Beege, you don't even want to know how many services I'm skipping. You'd faint dead away - not me skipping, but the number.)

One of my favorite things about church is all the connections between people. For instance, Tyka and Ann-the-speed-reader (wouldn't it be great if there were a St. Ann the Speed Reader? Like Rufus the Obedient and Zachariah the Recluse?*) have the same godmother, who happens to have been my kindergarten teacher. Or, Q is my god-daughter. I've known her mom, K since we were 2. Before our respective sets of parents met, my dad and K's mom went on a date. Stuff like that.

*I could talk for a really long time about hilarious saints' names. Is that appropriate to Holy Week? Oh well. Here's some (saints and various things that are noted on the church calendar) that make me chuckle:**

John the Cave Dweller
Onesimus the Apostle
First & Second Finding of the Venerable Head of John the Baptist (oops! we lost it! let's go look for it again!)
Polycarp
Alexios the "Man of God" (the "" make it look sarcastic)
Hilarion the New
Simon the Zealot
Third Finding of the Precious Head of St. John the Baptist (really, we've got to keep better track of this...)
Sampson the Hospitable
Cyrus and John the Unmercenaries (as opposed to the ones who were mercenaries)
Lupus the Martyr and Slave
Carpus and Papylus
John the Merciful
Daniel the Stylite

You get the idea.

**And at the same time I chuckle, I deeply respect their sanctity. It's a delicate art.

-jessmonster, the holy & mercenary blogger

Moderation

I need to work on moderation. Between words and pictures. Not all at once with either one. I got a little carried away today. I'm the kind of tired where you keep asking yourself, "self, why aren't you in bed?" but you can't make yourself get up and go. I'm going to try now, very hard. Divert yourself with these photos, please.

Casting pearls before pigtails; or, a previously promised picture 

Me and Q's mama, for the then & now effect. I'm pushing. Those are very 'us' faces, in case you don't know us. 

Like a scene from A Room with a View. Where is George? 

Cute attack 

Socks in all their glory 

We both dressed ourselves this morning. Like my new socks? 

Boots on the wrong feet 

Cleaning out the fridge

Inspired by Poppy (it was you, wasn't it?) I'm trying to eat up the odds and ends of food laying around, waiting to rot. I just had a black olive appetizer (and I would've put them on my fingers first if I hadn't been typing simultaneously) and some baby yellow potatoes are boiling. I don't even know how long those sat in our fruit bowl. I might have some spinach salad to round off the meal. If I were a different kind of person, I would bite right into the red pepper that's hanging out in the fridge. Instead, I think I'll incorporate it into some beans and rice for dinner.

I'm going crazy on the photos, folks. Don't hold me back.

A brief history of my life

Perhaps the most creative period of my life EVER - using new vocab in sentences in high school English. Yes, that was my creative peak. I look back on it fondly. I had the same teacher twice and each week we had to memorize words - and be able to use them. We had to use each word in a sentence and turn it in. I must have had some excess energy then, whatever wasn't being used up by dancing, and I decided to go above and beyond. I relished going above and beyond. I would create the most complex sentences I was capable of, and nearly all of them were graced with elaborately named individuals participating in the action. I referred constantly to the dictionary of names at the back of our mammoth black dictionary. I labored over those sentences. Oh the joy.

And then I became an English major.

The End.

jejune vs jessmonster

Jejuneness:

1. Not interesting; dull: “and there pour forth jejune words and useless empty phrases” (Anthony Trollope).
2. Lacking maturity; childish: surprised by their jejune responses to our problems.
3. Lacking in nutrition: a jejune diet.

Jessmonster:

1. endearingly mean: "the Jessmonster is so sarcastic but I love her anyway."
2. characterized by baked goods: "and lo, Jessmonster didst pour forth carbs on the world."
3. lacking the ability to get out of bed early without someone making me, but wishing I could since I love mornings: "Tyka had to Jessmonster me out of bed so we could laugh at pilates this morning."

I apologize for the noun/verb confusion in this post. It's after work, I reserve the right to let grammar slip as long as I awknowledge aforementioned slippyness.

I don't have anything to say

I would talk about work, except...no. No.

So, books then. The last two I finished were The Egypt Game (except I had the lovely retro gold cover on my library copy) and Pollyanna (again, different cover but worse in this case). Children's books. Yes. Pollyanna: yay or nay? Book, movie, whatever. Vote now.

Right now I'm not watching Sideways. And by not watching, I mean it's playing, with the commentary and captions, and I'm listening. I type haltingly and look up occasionally and eat chocolate chips. Hunched over a laptop. I sure know how to live, don't I? I need to latch onto a book. I'm a little dead inside without an attachment to a book.

Maybe inspiration will strike and I'll be back with something that's, oh, moderately interesting. For now, I leave you to your little imaginations.

Reasons I don't want a dog

1. they rip apart down comforters and leave the room with a fine dusting of feathers
2. they never learn to clean up after themselves. A child will eventually learn to poop in the toilet; a dog never will
3. they rub their faces in the poo of other dogs.
4. they lunge at cats, dragging you with them and risking back injury when you (or Tyka, as the case may be) slip on wet pavement
5. they enjoy sitting on furniture and leaving behind a gift of hair
6. slobber

All of this from witnessing Tyka dogsit. Okay, he wasn't much of a slobberer. I'm projecting from dogs I've sat on.

That said, some dogs are nice. I could handle a dog if need be. I would make that sacrifice. But I would NEVER get one for myself and proceed to treat it like a child. A child that never grows up.

I think it's time for bed if I start blogging about DOGS for crying out loud. Do I have nothing better to say? No liturgical gems? No snide remarks?

I do have this. A confession. I suspect I may be a mean person. No, I know this. Or I act like a mean person even though I'm well intentioned. How is this possible? I wish it weren't. But I am. The original jessmonster. I'm mean, especially, to people I love. I'm mean to everyone, really, but I think I notice it more with people I'm close to because it doesn't make sense. Just mean in little ways. Or maybe it's that I'm not always comfortable being affectionate? So I'm mean instead?

I really need to stop now. We're bordering on talking about emotions here. Unacceptable. Also, I'm asking too many questions.

PS - Spellcheck thinks "jessmonster" should be changed to "jejuneness." Um.

Late

Just a quick one because I should be leaving for church right now.

We made a sock pilgrimage today, Tyka, Teeth, Annie, and I. Well, only Annie and I purchased socks. I also got some for Q's mama so she can partake in the striped joy. I know I promise a lot of photos of things that never show up here, but I really want to share the new colorful ones with the world. Maybe we'll play photo catch up later.

But as we were walking away from Saturday Market (open on Sundays too!) the home of the sock mecca, Annie was humming a troparia and I was enjoying her humming since I, too, often have the tones stuck in my head. And lo, we walked past a man on the street who shouted after us "Do you believe in Jesus?" or something along those lines. And being the Jessmonster that I am, I wanted SO badly to shout back to him "Can't you hear? She's humming a freaking troparion!" Aren't I mean? The things I want to yell to poor street people? Then we were coming up with all sorts of things to answer the "have you been saved?" question. Like, "no, and neither have you."

I ate too much fish. Yummy, yummy fish.

"Behold, the bridegroom cometh..." and oops, I shall be late.

North Star, star of the sea

Margaret Barnstable wished on a star one night: North Star, star of the sea, I wish for a ship named after me. To sail away for a year and a day, with someone nice for company.

Maybe there are things that are equally as perfect as knowing a book by heart, but I can't think of anything at the moment. Not the same kind of perfect.

I'm not really sure that this is exactly how The Maggie B opens, but it's pretty close. The "year and a day" bit I'm not sure about, because she's only on the ship for a day. But it was my theme as I walked home tonight from where Tyka is house-sitting. It has a lovely rhythm for walking.

Okay, there are equally perfect things. Spring days being one of them. Where it pours and everything is green and new, and there's a full moon and fog coming in from the river and the new leaves look white in the moonlight. I guess that's a spring night. I didn't want to come inside. Sleeping outside would maybe be a little wet, but it sounds worth it.

Or on a boat, say, like Margaret. And her brother James (someone nice for company). With a cozy ship with fruit trees and a cabin with a stove and a pineapple-print chair and a bunk with a view of the waves.

I love those moments when you want nothing more than what you have - a walk home on quiet streets.

Maybe I should name my children Margaret and James. When they come along, you know. At least as middle names. I want kids for two reasons: to read out loud to, and to name them after characters in books. (If you were to name a child after a character in a book, who would it be?)

Quote of the day, courtesy of Fr. M's sermon: "You can't just say 'He's a big magnet and I'm full of metal.'" ("He" being God)

Also, today was a "wine/oil/caviar" day, in case you didn't know. Tomorrow: fish!

Pop

I got off work half an hour early tonight, because a $4,000 machine made a pop like a balloon and stopped working. Nice, huh? I could've used the hours, but I think that extra half hour of daylight was worth it. It was GORGEOUS when I drove home. One of those days where all of a sudden everything is green and the air is fresh, and the clouds over Mt. Hood look like snow being blown off. I love the view on my new commute - the highway sweeps up and gives you a downtown skyline, the perfect arch of a bridge, the west hills, a mountain, a sunset.

I came home, walked to New Seasons, smelled all the delicious restaurant smells along the way, and got some serious non-vegan cravings. Earlier I was thinking that I'm not quite ready for Lent to end - I don't feel in it enough. But there's nothing like a trip to the grocery store to make you change your mind and think "hey, food! Bacon! Ice cream! Milk! Chicken!" Yup.

Then I ate my dinner & watched Wilby Wonderful (thumbs up) with the door left open, even after dark. I adore spring weather.

Getting all churchy on you

Here I am. See?

Just moments ago I attempted some self-portraits with earring, but the battery on Tyka's camera died. How dare you? Leave a camera with a low battery? When I might need to take self-portraits?

I have to say, I love earrings. I love that I am now the proud owner of eight pairs, seven of them gifts. I love you! You and your gifts of earrings, dear people. My heart swells with joy. The latest bundle to arrive in the mail (mail! I love mail too!) is from receptionista and they are lovely. Some, I believe, she made herself. Thank you!

In other news, that week of weeks is rapidly approaching on winged feet. Last year it was fantastic because when I asked for Good Friday off, my manager said "sure, and don't you have a few personal days to use?" which was the first I'd heard about personal days, only having worked there a few months. So I ended up just working Monday and Tuesday and then I could attend all the services my heart desired. And the weather was gorgeous and sunny, and lo, it was good.

This year, I work. My personal days were gobbled up long ago. I wrangled Friday off, and Wednesday evening, which is good, but I'm a little worried about not feeling involved enough. Holy Week is all about losing yourself in what's happening, feeling like you live at church, staying in that mindset. I'm not sure how well I can sustain that over the days I have to work through services. Whenever I cut church, I feel like I'm missing something. Not like I'm sneaking off to do something better.

Next up: this Saturday is Lazarus Saturday. I love* Lazarus Saturday. First because it's that first step into Holy Week - "okay, we're getting serious now! Lent is over! Time to pack your bags and move to church!" - and also because how freaking cool is it that the person Jesus raised from the dead was his friend? Yes, his sisters needed him and he did it for them, too, but his friend! I've always loved that, being attached to my friends.

Mary and her sister came to meet them, crying bitterly,
"Lord, where wert Thou? For he whom Thou lovest has departed,
And lo, he is not here."
As they cried out these words, He, himself, wept.
But he asked, "Where is the tomb of my friend?"

I love this stuff! Now you see why I use "lo" in sentences.

Oh. This I don't like so much:

According to an ancient tradition, it is said that Lazarus was thirty years old when the Lord raised him; then he lived another thirty years on Cyprus and there reposed in the Lord. It is furthermore related that after he was raised from the dead, he never laughed till the end of his life, but that once only, when he saw someone stealing a clay vessel, he smiled and said, "Clay stealing clay." His grave is situated in the city of Kition, having the inscription: "Lazarus the four days dead and friend of Christ."

Well, the no laughing part I don't like. But ah, the gentle humor (via ancient tradition) of Lazarus.

Oh this, this I love:

We understand now that it is because He wept, i.e., loved His friend Lazarus and had pity on him, that He had the power of restoring life to him. The power of Resurrection is not a Divine "power in itself," but the power of love, or rather, love as power. God is Love, and it is love that creates life; it is love that weeps at the grave and it is, therefore, love that restores life...

*Rundown of things I "love" in this post:
earrings
how many I have received as gifts
the people who have given them to me
Lazarus Saturday
lo
love

Warning

Small Miseries:

In the car on the way to work, desperately needing lotion and knowing there will be done until you get home again

Backbelts. The horror. Being forced to wear one because of an audit at work (must have proper back support!) on the single hottest day since I've been there. Work + backbelt = sweat = yuck.

Small Pleasures:
The sun being out.

The birds that live in the warehouse and sing. And so far, they haven't pooped on me.

The endless joy of odd signs

"I love my brain." - neon sign at the Red & Black Cafe

"Warning: you do not want to be responsible for burning down the building." - on the popcorn machine in the break room, following instructions on turning it off.

Kitchen notes

The juice is taking over our fridge. I think we need to go on a juice diet until it's gone. Anyone want to come over and have juice? May I offer you some V8 (leftover from chili making - to be discussed later), Rio Red Grapefruit, Dixie Peach (two bottles - plenty for everyone!), Dynamo Plus Calcium, or Orange Mango?

Today, inbetween babysitting (Lego pyramids galore! goldfish crackers! closets that become jungle gyms!*) and going to work (at three) I have accomplished the unthinkable: I started dinner. Usually I just scrounge when I come home at 8:30, but today I whipped out my handy mini-crockpot and started some vegetarian chili. If I ever finish this blog entry, I will also make some cornbread. YUM.

Any ideas for a vegan recipe that will use up: half a can of tomatoes, half a red pepper, half an onion, and half a can of V8? This is the problem with a mini. You can't neatly use up all your ingredients.

*Apparently my sister and I aren't the only ones who thought that a closet was the greatest toy ever. If you are ever around bored younguns, introduce them to your closet. Money back guarantee. Ours was the kind with doors that make two V's when opened (V V) and we treated it like an elevator. For example: you spend an hour or so getting dressed up. Wear about 5 skirt simultaneously for the best effect. Try a hat. Dress up your dolls, too. Prepare a ballroom in the family room. Have the classical music cued up. Have tea waiting for later. Enter your elevator. Fight with your siblings for space. Break to calm down. Continue elevator ride. Etc. The hall closet, with a normal door, was also great fun when we took every single thing off the floor, brought in a flashlight or two, and closed the door on ourselves. I wonder how many hours we spent in closets?

Brought To You By the Letter G and the Number 6

Letter G

First, poking fun at the people who make my paycheck possible...customers. Sometimes the customer is right. Sometimes, well, they're a little nuts. Let's see if I can tell this story without giving away too many details. Town pocket, this story is for you. A real life example of capital cursive G's.

A man comes in. He's flaming and irate. It made me want to laugh when all he'd said was "I have a few questions" in a huffy voice. (I believe he also pulled out a notepad...did he have cues for himself?) I can answer questions. "Okay," I say, humoring his huffiness. Who knows, maybe he has good reason. Fast-forward through revealing details and his issues, which are minor, really. He wants us to be at his beck and call. That's not how it works. Along the way he's using his pen to emphasize a point and I am mesmerized as it repeatedly pokes through the package he's holding - I can barely hear what he's saying because I can't really believe he's actually poking that hard.

We come up with a solution for his "problem" which involves him writing instructions. I hand him something to write on and turn to help other customers, who've been rolling there eyes at him as he babbles and complains and repeats himself even after I've repeated what he said back to him to make sure we're on the same page.

He cuts back to the front of the line to hand me the paper. "That's a G," he says, pointing to an elaborate capital cursive G. "If you print it, it looks like a 6, so I used a General Mills G."

WHOA.

1) If you learned how to print neatly, a capital G does not look like a 9.
2) Since when is it a General Mills G? Do they have a trademark now on ALL capital cursive G's?

Number 6

My cousin Harrison turned six today. I eventually escaped the madness that was work today and went to his party. He's not really my cousin, he's my second cousin. Using the phrasing of the SAT's verbal section: My age is to my cousin's age (his father) as Harrison's age is to mine. Roughly. When my brother & sister & I were kids, our cousin came out from the east coast to his true home, the west coast, and stayed with us for a few months until he got an apartment. We picked on him, and he picked on us. Then his girlfriend moved out, and they got married and did fun stuff with us, like take us to Finnigan's and Powell's and Psycho Safeway (should it be Sycho Safeway?) which was near their super cool downtown apartment.

Then they had kids, who are 6 and almost 4, and we do the same thing for them. We pick on them, and they pick on us, and now they're old enough for us to take to do fun stuff, like go to Powell's and get gelato afterwards. It's nice and cyclical. The weird part was how I got suddenly emotional when we were singing happy birthday - here he is, in kindergarten. Before he was the tiny baby with huge feet and tons of hair (my then 10-year-old brother was holding him and accidentally poked him on his umbilical cord stump and all of his limbs suddenly stuck straight out with shock). What happened?

The Future
Tomorrow, Oly. Next, the world. I may or may not update, depending on whether we manage to shut up and blog or we just go hog wild talking.

a little more nothing

Grapefruit watch: one down, two to go. And in the course of consumption today, a bowl was sacrified to the grapefruit cause. A staffroom bowl. Only one thing could be saved, and my instinct said "grapefruit!" and so the lovely green bowl died.

Storytime anecdote: we have a lot of regular Wednesday evening storytime families at the library. One mother & son were there tonight. He's maybe 3 or 4, and they have another one on the way. When the librarian said "everyone stand up!" to begin a song, the boy shouted "Mom! Stand up!" and ran back to help her up from her chair. Is there anything cuter than kids being protective of their pregnant mothers?

Sock of the day: green and white stripes. I've got to get my own pairs, these things are addicting.

Question of the day: anyone know a good source for stripey tights? I've got the sock source down...it's time to focus on tights. Help me out here! My legs are begging you!

Kolya

See it. I'd rate it a mild tearjerker, excellent movie, very cute kid. Thanks for leaving it behind on the kitchen table, Tyka.

That's all I've got for tonight, folks. I'm off to read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. If you enjoy Byron (and by enjoy I mean that you get a kick out of his letters & journals and "His Very Self and Voice," that you get nostalgic when you think of him, and that few things are as funny as his rhymes, and/or were in the B/W seminar) you should check this out. He makes an appearance, and it's the final touch to make me recommend this book.

Going to the zoo zoo zoo*

I have the apartment to myself until the weekend. It feels weird. I spend a lot of time here alone, because of how different our work schedules are, but to know that no one else will be here? That all the messes are mine?

The first thing I did after Tyka left was clean the fridge. Not like "thank goodness she's gone, now I can clean this." It just happened. I'm like that. Instead of engaging in random acts of kindness, I engage in random acts of cleaning. And they're really random. The fridge is actually one of the cleaner parts of the apartment, and my time would be much better spent, say, emptying the dishwasher.

Don't let me forget to eat those grapefruit. I don't want any molding while I'm on the fruit watch. Oh, the responsibility!

Tomorrow I'm going to the Oregon Zoo with various peeps, including Q, her mom, her aunt (aunt! how is it possible that little A. is an aunt? She's still in high school! She was just a baby herself! I feel the universe folding in on itself!) and perhaps another mother & child. I met the mother once at a wedding (Q's godfather's, actually) at which she was approximately 3 months married and 2 months and 29 days pregnant. Or something like that; we didn't get into that much detail. I don't think I've ever met her child. I think it's a boy, and if I had to guess I would say that his name is Gabriel. Nice name. I hope they come so I can find out.

And I can't wait to see Q with all the animals, based on how excited she gets by pictures of animals and the horse that lives next to our church. They go regularly but I've never made it before.

*You can come, too too too...

The Peep of the Day

Bee recommended an article entitled "Global Warning" in the April 11 New Yorker, and you should all get your hands on it. It tells us of a 19th century writer of "the earliest religious instruction the infant mind is capable of receiving," Mrs. Mortimer, who warns small children in very practical ways.

"How kind of God it was to give you a body! I hope that your body will not get hurt.
Will your bones break?--Yes, they would, if you were to fall down from a high place, or if a car were to go over them...
How easy it would be to hurt your poor little body!
If it were to fall into the fire, it would be burned up...If a great knife were run through your body, the blood would come out. If a great box were to fall on your head, your head would be crushed. If you were to fall out of the window, your neck would be broken. If you were not to eat some food for a few days, your little body would be very sick, your breath would stop, and you would grow cold, and you would soon be dead."

I wish Mrs. Mortimer had thought to warn me about getting your ears pierced. Although I guess the whole "great knife" thing is sort of like piercing. Including the blood part. Yes, today I wore earrings and lo, the blood did gush forth. It stopped when I switched to lighter earrings (in the middle of purchasing an unrelated, third pair of earrings) (a recap: pair #1, from Toni, gorgeous but blood-inducing; pair #2, the ones Tyka was wearing - we switched; pair #3, purchased today, very light).

Sancto Subito

Tyka deserves immediate sainthood for her role in the whole earring thing. As I whine like the 13-year-old that I am, "I can't do it!" she, good roommate that she is, helps me take out and put in earrings. She checks to make sure I got the backs on all the way. She doesn't complain about the blood.

And sorry, no pics yet due to surpreme laziness.

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

If you give a mouse a weekend off work, she'll want some Sunday brunch.

If you sit her down at the table, she'll smell the coffee, and she'll ask if she can have some to go with her brunch.

If you give her some coffee, she'll try it plain.

If she tries it plain, she'll make a face and ask if you have any sugar to go with it.

If you give her some sugar, she'll accidentally pour too much in and ask for more coffee to go with it.

If you give her more coffee, she'll notice the cream.

If she notices the cream, she'll want some in her own coffee.

And then she'll be going straight to hell.

(My deepest thanks to Laura Numeroff, for bringing us "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie," and Lis for introducing the phrase "you're going straight to hell" into our lives in such a useful and meaningful way.)

A trinity

Secret Eating

The slice of bread and butter I slurped down before heading to church, hoping no one would smell the illicit butter on my breath.

Idle Talking

Rachel and Fiona, the four year old girls standing with the choir, whispering to each other and doodling at their music stands.

Frivolous Laughter

Q handing me books in the cry room after the service, chuckling and saying "whoa!" at the sight of Noah's menagerie. "Giraffe! Potomus! Horsie!"

(Although, really, the laughter of a 22-month old is never frivolous, and four year olds never speak idly. I exaggerate for effect, as always, and besides, I'm not the one who came up with those phrases.)

FYI: no earrings yet, but not for lack of trying. A reattempt shall be made tomorrow, and if Tyka's camera is cooperative, photographic evidence shall be forthcoming.

Six weeks

It's time. Tomorrow will be six weeks. But I need help. I'm afraid. Tyka, darling, will you provide support this afternoon and help me put in real earrings?

You know what this means, don't you? Now I'm going to want to go buy more. Good thing getting my taxes done is taking me over to Hawthorne today. This is the plan: get taxes done, and depending on how it goes, I shall either a) celebrate or b) console myself by spending my Powell's gift card and taking a look at earrings. I have three pairs at the moment, all gifts (thank you Cyn and Town!) so it's completely reasonable that I go out and buy more, right? Right??

Quote night

In no particular order, all while having snacks and drinks at the Rose & Raindrop tonight:

Tyka: "Whenever I see a red coat, I think of Schindler's List. And then the rest of the world goes black and white, and it's like that for the rest of the day."

Teeth: "I think this onion is genetically modified."

Tyka: "I've been exfoliating like my plane's going down."

Tyka: "Sorry, can I change my order from the dessert to a side of fries?"
(After causing the waiter to spend an inordinate amount of time at our table, answering questions, describing beers, and waiting for us to decide.)

Cause that's just the kind of night it was.

And work this week has involved: burnt popcorn, an iodine spill, dry ice, talking to a $4000 scanner, irate customers, customers who say "God bless you" as they leave (while I appreciate the sentiment, the glazed look in her eye did not endear her to me), being left alone all day during my second week at a new job, cruise tips, and a LOT of pistachios. And this was just one of my jobs.

Note to self

When you find yourself "just doing a few dishes" at 11:30 pm, and then longingly holding your hands under the hot running water after you're done, it's time to take a bath. Remember this. Bathe.

Troparia quote du jour

From the Nativity of the Theotokos (Mary for you non-Orthonuts):

"We venerate thy swaddling clothes O Virgin Theotokos!"

(Found on a scrap of paper while cleaning my desk, written surreptitiously during the service last fall.)

A spool of thread

Tuckova's comment about The Tale of Despereaux reminded me (thank you!) of something I've been meaning to include as a tidbit but kept forgetting about. Really. Just yesterday I was sitting here thinking "what was that thing that happened on Sunday, after work, that was amusing and I was going to share?" Don't you hate it when you keep forgetting the same thing over and over? I had a professor in college whose name I couldn't remember for the life of me mere months after graduation.

Anyway, Despereaux! First, the book was recommended to me by the librarian I work with, so I listened to it on tape and fell in love. Nothing makes the commute more pleasant than 'the Story of a Mouse, a Princess, Some Soup, and a Spool of Thread.' This is one of those books that makes me want kids just so I can read out loud to them. It is your destiny, Reader, to love this book.

Fastforward to Sunday. We close up promptly at 5 at the library, and we were standing in the back chatting before walking out the staff entrance, when we see a couple women peering in the windows at us. We try to avoid eye-contact so they'll get the hint that really, we're closed. They walk away and we lock up. I'm crossing the parking lot when a truck with the two women in it pulls up next to me. I figure they're wondering when we open the next day or somesuch, but instead one asks:

"I was just wondering if you could tell me who wrote Because of Winn-Dixie?"

I panic for a second before the title registers, and then I say confidently "Kate DiCamillo." I can even spell her name for them.

"Thank you!" they gush. "And it won the Newbery, didn't it?"

"Actually," I say, my fount of knowledge gushing at full speed, "her other book, The Tale of Despereaux won the Newbery. I think Winn-Dixie was just a Newbery Honor."

After they drove off, my supervisor asked me, "What did they want?"

"To know who wrote Because of Winn-Dixie."

"I'm glad they asked you and not me!"

And that, folks, is why I work at a library. Because I love it when people want to know about books, and I can give them what they want.

Just a little nothing

Two book recommendations before bed:

Cork and Fuzz. I covered this one tonight, and sneaked in a little read, and loved it. It's an easy reader (ages 6-9) which isn't usually my genre of choice, but really, check it out. Cork is a muskrat and Fuzz is a possum, and they meet up and are getting to know each other. Fuzz keeps hiding things under a pointy leaf, and Cork asks, "what is that?" and Fuzz answers "just a little nothing." Cork says "I float like a cork" and Fuzz says "I float like a rock."

The Red Wolf. A picture book in gorgeous colors, recommended for knitters. A princess is kept in a tower by her father, who thinks the world is too dangerous. A box of yarn appears as a gift to the princess, and she knits a red wolf suit, turns into a wolf, and escapes from the tower. Read it yourself to find out where her knitting takes her...

-jessmonster, who floats like a rock

Artichoke heart

Today, a post about artichokes. I'm gonna see how much mileage I can get out of them. I love them. I love pulling off the leaves and dipping them in yummy things like butter or olive oil. I love that more than the heart.

I had one for dinner, and as do many things in my life, it conjured up a lot of memories. Mostly of being in Bologna during artichoke season, circa 2002. In a nod towards civilization, Italians mostly eat what's in season. One day I went to the local frutti and there was no broccoli. How great is that? Because it wasn't in season! It was beautiful. And then the artichokes came in luscious, cheap droves.

One day of PPP* was Artichoke Day. I can't remember the fruit of the day, maybe bananas? Anyway, we (Bee & I) went to Elisa's room at the Residence Galaxy (a dorm/hotel) (real name) and cooked a boatload of artichokes for dinner. I think we may have also eaten them for lunch. There may have been some tofu involved, but basically I think we ate 2 small chokes apiece. Maybe more. I came close to ODing.

Now, when I taste them, I imagine a bus ride out of the old city walls, a labyrinth of hallways, thin walls and huge windows, and dinner around her tiny table. Maybe it was that night, maybe another night, when we went to the roof, crawled under the fence to get to the edge, and sat under the stars drinking wine and eating chocolate. If I give the story the mythical quality it seems to be asking for, we can throw in the long walk home to via Orfeo, the smell of baking bread at 3 am causing unprecedented amounts of drool, and the musical accompaniment of Stars Go Blue.

This is what happens when I have an artichoke for dinner.

*Inside joke. No explanation possible, rational, or forthcoming.

A questionable gift from the Bunny

1. Is it true what they say about librarians?
It IS true. All of it. We talk about patrons behind their backs, we don't have to pay fines, and we're snobs. I won't say any more for fear of repercussions from the Grand Order of Librarians, but if you can imagine it, it's probably true.

2. Yes…but do you know what freezing is in Celsius?
Yes! Zero. N'est ce pas?

3. How does it feel being a plunger thief?
You know, I lived with guilt for a really long time. Now I just live with the extra plunger that we never officially presented to you. I will say, to my credit, that we have a remarkably incapable toilet.

4. Have there been any moments this Lent that have struck you deeply?
During the Annunciation liturgy, about halfway through. It just all seemed perfect. Other than that I haven't really felt satisfyingly Lenten yet. I need to work on that.

5. Since you are a Word Queen, guess the definitions (without looking it up!) of these three words: quackle, maulifluff, and zythepsary.
Quackle: a duck's laugh.
Maulifluff: when your clothes come out of the dryer covered in lint.
Zythepsary: apothecary with a lisp.

So shall ye receive

Tyka was wondering...

1) What is your favorite thing about being my roommate?
As I mentioned earlier, that would be your laptop and your digital camera. Materialistic greed aside, it would be the goofy spontaneous things we do together. Like getting my ears pierced. Or eating nachos in the car. Or wogging.

2) What is the last CD that you raped and pillaged?
That would be the Monsoon Wedding soundtrack. (For the uninitiated, 'raping and pillaging' is the new slang for 'ripping and burning.' They're such violent words that we figured, why not kick it up a notch and call it 'raping and pillaging'?)

3) Which Spice Girl are you?
None. [Edited to add: Sleepy Spice. I've been sucking up sleep like a vacuum the past few nights.]

4) What color is your new comforter cover going to be?
I'm thinking blue. Because it goes with a lot of stuff. But I could be persuaded in the direction of red or green if the mood struck.

5) What time will you be home tonight? I want to have dinner
Apparently, I got home around 8:45. It was sofa king crazy at work.

6) When was the last time you had the hiccups?
I can't recall exactly, but it often happens when I eat bread too quickly.

7) Why do you love Harold and Maude so much?
It makes me laugh. It's totally unlike any other movie I've seen. It's sad but goofy and leaves me in a pleasant mood. The Cat Stevens soundtrack rocks. Harold has a fabulously expressive face. Harold's mother filling out the dating service survey is pure comedy gold. Etc.

8) What is your next life goal that you want to accomplish?
I want to write a story that I'm proud of. Not on any particular time frame, but just in general. I want that to keep happening. I've only done it once so far.

Blogmobile

Tonight is apparently photo night. Since I finally mastered it I went a little crazy(tyka helped me before - tonight she was helpless on the couch while I did battle with her computer). It would have gone crazier if the battery in her camera hadn't given up the ghost. (The real reasons I'm friends with tyka? Her laptop, her digital camera, and the fact that she emails me all day at work.)

Today I got back in the mail the letter I sent to Toni last week (see photos below). There are several things to remember when writing a letter:

1. write it
2. put it in envelope & seal
3. stamp it
4. address it

You can see for yourselves which step I forgot.

Did anyone else see the fantastic cartoon at the back of this week's New Yorker?

Where's MY cream? 

town pocket visiting at our B&B outlet 

Coffee, cream, petit-four, happiness. 

My last letter to Toni - think I forgot something? 

No shit. 

A little avocado

I just stuck my head in the fridge and found myself singing, under my breath even though I'm alone:

"Oh I wish I had a leetle avocado, that is what I really wish I had..." to the tune of, can you guess it? The Oscar Meyer weiner song.

My $5,000 friends

I was talking to a coworker yesterday about tuition, and being in debt for college. I ended up paying for the equivalent of a year's tuition, for my room & board & etc. And I was telling her how it was tot worth it, even though I could've lived with my parents, because I wouldn't have made friends (or made friends in the same way) if I hadn't lived on campus. All of a sudden it hit me, that I went in debt to make friends. If you take out the costs of books and the extra expense of going overseas and stuff, I figure it cost me about $5,000 for each great friend that I made. You know, give or take a few thousand. Girls, it was worth every dollar.

Tidbits

A few observations.

Last night I went over to Kate & Pate's (parents of Q) and also over were Q's godfather, his wife, and their 2 month old son (Macarios - believe it or not). Godfather & wife are one of those couples that really tick some people off (for personalities/events in the past) but I was pleasantly surprised to see how much being a father had relaxed him. It became him well. I've never really talked to him, even though he's my god-whatever and all, but I was holding Q up to see little M and he was being all goofy introducing them and it was pretty fun. When Q was born, he was a little terrified to hold her. It freaked him out a little when I passed her to him. And now he's handling his son like a pro. He also got braces. I bet anything that was his wife's doing, and about time. Good work. It's good to see people growing, you know?

Q was also really excited to discover that I got my ears pierced. We were sitting there, and all of a sudden she pointed and said "whoa!" and I turned to see what she was pointing at. Nope, wait, she's pointing at my ear. It was like she'd just discovered the source of the Nile or something. I was the coolest.

And then today in church she kept shooting me dirty looks. Sorry Q, my pious headscarf is hiding the earrings you so love!

This afternoon I worked at the library. While revising books I overheard a mother and ten year old son working on his homework. "'How many days was the temperature below freezing?'" she read. "What's freezing?" she asked her son. About TEN MINUTES LATER she finally found a worksheet that listed as 32 degrees as freezing. Um, duh? Who doesn't know that?

Today was also Stinky People Day at the library. If you have access to a DVD player, you have access to a shower. Use it. If you're homeless, then okay, I can accept your stinkiness. But if you're checking out DVDs...get a grip!

Tyka is a wee bit tipsy at the moment. She was trying to play footsie while we ate dinner. Um, Tyk, you probably don't want to make Teeth jealous like that. FYI. He doesn't need to know.

She says I haven't been blogging enough lately. Somehow I thought those four posts on Friday would suffice for two days. What do I know?

One more for today

Questions from Kara

1. what was the last book you read and loved? why?
The last book I loved was "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." And yes, I'm not ashamed to admit it. However, I listened to that on tape. So I'll say that the last book I read and loved was "Harriet the Spy" which I never managed to read as a kid. It's the BEST.

2. beege already asked what your favorite word is. so, instead, i'll ask what your favorite phrase or quote is.
Hmm...tough one. Not the type of question that can ever really be answered. Here are a few possibilities:
"There are things you do because they feel right & they may make no sense & they may make no money & it may be the Real reason we are here: to love each other & eat each other's cooking & say it was good." (this is a storypeople
"When a lot of things start going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born - and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible." (Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies)
Favorite phrase? "Oh Lord I care not for gold nor silver..."

3. since we seem to live parallel lives sometimes, were you also sick last week when i was sick and in bed for 4 days?
Oh yes, I definitely was. Not in-bed sick, but there was a LOT of coughing involved.

4. what is the favorite place you've traveled to and why?
The Aran Islands, off the coast of Ireland near Galway. Cliffs, cliffs and more cliffs, and the tiniest church in the world.

5. your two parter: ah, tea. i love tea, don't you? (ok, that wasn't the question). what is your favorite tea? and how do you make it?
Earl Gray, Twinings. I boil water, pour it over a couple tea bags in a pot, steep for a few minutes, and enjoy with honey.

Don't follow me, I'll try to lose you

For the first time today, a coworker saw me in my pajamas.*

Should I start getting dressed earlier?

Oh, and he brought me $134.20. Score.

*Not counting a) my mom and b) coworkers at college because we freaking lived in our pajamas when we were RAs.

[Edited to add - this sounds a little wrong, doesn't it? The money and the pajamas? They aren't related. Just a coincidence. Rest assured.]

It's April!

When did that happen?

Rainy again

It's rainy again so I'm making oatmeal and a pot of tea. Mmm.

I got woken up this morning by a phone call from my roomie and realized, hey, this is a pretty good way to wake up. Forget that nasty alarm clock, I'll just have her (or someone else just calling to chat in a friendly way) call me every morning. Especially on these days when I don't have to get up at any particular time.

Don't stone me, but I don't have to go to work until 3 pm four days a week. This is my "weekend" time - I only get half of the real weekends off.

Kitchen exploded in a fury of steam; oatmeal and tea are now really underway.

Being as it's first thing in the morning, I don't really have anything to say, but I wish to goodness that Bee & Soph (who are across the world & country, respectively, right now) were here in my kitchen. Don't know if you read this, girls, but not a pot of Constant Earl goes by that I don't miss you.