Magdalini

Yes, Ma'am

2012-01-03T14:05:00.002-05:00

I was reading the book The Duggars: 20 and Counting! and enjoying the parenting tidbits, especially on obedience.

We've been having Teddy respond with "Yes, ma'am" or "Yes, sir" occasionally when we ask him to do something for us, but after this, I decided to enforce it a little more, as Michelle Duggar does to make sure that her children have heard her (to avoid "I forgot" or "I didn't hear you" excuses).

If Teddy doesn't say, "Yes, ma'am," right after I've told him to do something, now I prompt, "Yes, ma'am?" and he says it ... and then picks himself up and goes and does what I've asked with no further drama. This may not last forever, but it sure is nice to have him just stop (throwing himself on the floor in "despair," whining, screaming (about my making him answer the question, "What are you doing?"—I mean, really? Is it that hard to say, "I'm playing"?), etc.), but to have him actually stop and obey...it's a bit heady.

I can fake being a good parent even better now!

Re-solving

2011-12-31T23:00:00.001-05:00

I'm sure you've heard of the little story about "getting up again," and this is what makes me excited about preparing for the new year.

Changing the calendar.
Filling out the stewardship form for our parish.
Deciding our twelve favorite charities for our monthly tithing, and when each should receive the donation.
Coming up with family goals, and trying to figure out concrete ways of effecting (and remembering) them.

I have tried several times to read the Bible all the way through, so I'm especially happy that my husband has agreed to a goal of each of us reading through it in 2012.

It's wonderful to think of the spiritual benefits of all of these things, but secretly, maybe it's just that I'm devoted to spreadsheets.

Another challenge I've set for myself is not buying any books this coming year. I went to visit my mother for a week, and a main goal of that trip was to sort through childhood books and toys. I was so thrilled about the books that I rashly gushed to my husband, "I won't need to buy books for a whole year!" And the rascal took me up on it. (I didn't say that he couldn't buy any books for me, and I did make sure that I could buy until the end of December. What? Light-and-Life had a sale for 20% off children's books, and All Saints' Monastery (Calverton, NY) came out with a darling little book.)

Things which are not official resolutions, but I am attempting anyhow:

I am walking more (to and from the produce stand, once from the oil-change-place to the library and back, and once from church) these past two weeks, and I seem to have escaped the most recent weight plateau (the same weight for about three months).

I am trying to keep my temper. Please pray for me, as it is a constant struggle.

I want to put my house in order, physically, bodily, and spiritually, and actually post about it to my project blog rather than just putting it off and saying, "Oh, I should get to that..." The benefits of accomplishments are so marvelous! Why is it, then, that it is so difficult to get started?

Bedtime stories

2011-12-11T22:53:00.001-05:00

I'm still struggling along, trying to deal with philosophical questions like death, why bad things happen to good people, how to love others (especially when they drive me/my husband crazy), and bringing up children (in the way they should go, especially considering that I'm not all that great at staying headed in the right direction).

Reading to Teddy at bedtime seems to have helped more than anything else in terms of my having patience with him. We are in the middle of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and he is pretty good about asking for it. We read one, one-and-a-half, or two chapters each night, and only skip if either of us is not feeling up to it or it's much too late for reading. I think he is getting more comfortable using his words to tell me when he's had enough, and (I hope) I am getting better at talking to him and drawing out answers without jumping all over him and expecting too much (which just frustrates both of us).

I've found that I'm calmer through the day, with Teddy, Lucia, and VP. Our home seems more peaceful (although this has not seemed to affect the dreadfully neglected laundry or dishes).

It seems like it's been so long since I've actually been able to enjoy being with my little boy. He really is wonderful. I'm more than a little bit afraid that this is just a fluke, that something will come up to upset the balance and I'll turn into horrible screaming mommy again. Please keep praying for me.

Irish dance hiatus is over

2011-10-04T23:21:00.003-04:00

I've been slightly more busy on the other blogs, and definitely more busy in real life. I do want to share the news that we've found an Irish dance school for both me and Teddy, after trying two in the area.

While going to sleep the past couple of nights, I've been thinking about Irish dancing. I was so concentrated on going today (to see the second school) that I didn't even bring a book. (My husband was impressed.)

Now I just have to get the rest of my body ready to enjoy this. I'm so out of shape I was only able to put two steps together once, but VP said that I was probably dancing for about 20 minutes, which is longer than I thought I would be able to do ... and much shorter than it seemed! I have about 20 pounds to lose to get back to my pre-baby weight, and then I'll have to see how much more I'd like to lose.

As a side note, doing lots of exercise and being a nursing mother? I am so grateful my husband filled the water pitcher in the fridge before we left ... and after we came home, too.

Vespers and Liturgy tomorrow night, or I would go for two nights a week. Ahh.

Consistency

2011-06-10T21:28:00.006-04:00

So this time I spent most of the week thinking of taking pictures for the next Thursday's post. But you have to know what day it is for that to work. So, Friday again.

Pretty

Happy

Fr. George is the priest who married us. This was the first time they'd served together as priests.

Funny

She fusses when we try to bring her head up into a more comfortable-looking position. Silly bat-baby.

After the address labels are done or we move and they're no longer useful for the address, Teddy gets stickers. The ones from the Archdiocese have icons. In the near future, if someone asks me whether I've found Jesus, I can answer yes. He's all over my house. And my child:

Real

As someone on facebook pointed out, my husband will use any excuse to get into the water. I think at this point he'd already tossed his goggles, and here he's signaling a field goal. (He did get dunked a couple of times, and with the temperature, I was a bit envious. I was nursing when it was his turn at the dunk tank, but thanks to a future seminarian, I got to see it through pictures afterwards.)

I knew there would be some sort of cool use for this box when I snagged it a few months ago!

Real.

A Day Late...

2011-06-03T15:35:00.004-04:00

Pretty, happy, funny, real. "Real" I can do (the "day late" is part of that)... It was fun to look for the others, though!

Pretty: She stayed asleep when I put her down! (Okay, only for a half hour. Nobody gave me a memo that said: by the way, today is cluster-feeding day! But they should have.) And she's all cuddled up in Matushka Anna's beautiful Columba blanket. (Don't you want one?)

Happy: He and I spent some time reading together this morning, and then it was time to pick up his room. He had beads and shoelaces out all over the floor, so I told him to put them in their little box. On a whim, I thought I'd present this toy/task/work to him again now that he's older. He totally got it! He put the beads on the string faster and faster, only needing a little help with the first two.

Funny: He is good about remembering to put his sunglasses on. And he has two pairs. So he puts both of them on. It makes a kind of sense, but it still makes me laugh.

Real: Our "dining" room table. This is the dumping ground for anything which doesn't go in the diaper bag and must be taken out. (That should read "taken out and put away," but as you can see, that's not the case. Yet.) Let's see... dead flowers, food processor, tote and diaper bags, unopened box of oatmeal, icon books, road atlas, bibs, socks with packaging, gift receipts for baby things (I don't remember what goes with anything, but heaven forfend I toss any of it!), a nifty wet bag I won in the Great Cloth Diaper Hunt (I was going to post about my three prizes, but only two ever showed up...). There's an undusted knick-knack shelf with iris photographs on the left, and a china cabinet with nice things that we don't use or look at (or dust) on the right. On the floor on the left are a box and a bag ... awaiting their doom, I think.

Maybe I should look for a happier "real." (Heck, maybe I should post on Thursday like everyone else.)

Productivity and Prattling

2011-05-23T23:19:00.003-04:00

I've been reading organizational and productivity books again, not finding them terribly useful overall, but getting at least one phrase or idea which keeps me going. The latest "thing" is to make a plan: write down the goal, breaking it into sub-goals, and then assign dates by which each sub-goal needs to be completed.

So I've got three pieces of scratch paper (A, B, and C): (A) one for the Metropolis of Atlanta presvyteres directory (needs to be ready and printed before we leave for Clergy-Laity next month); (B) one for the NSP newsletter, which needs to be put together and have address labels printed by about June 1 (thank heavens for two ladies: one who suggested someone else print and mail the newsletter, and the other who volunteered to do it); and (C) one for my AFR transcription to-do list.

I'm way ahead on the directory, but mostly because I was terrified of having dozens of presvyteres to call (no email address) and check on their mailing addresses so I can send them the information to review, correct, and give permission for me to share among the presvyteres. I set aside from Sunday through Wednesday to make all those calls (50), and I'm already done! I still have to call parishes to get any contact information for another 20 or so (phone numbers disconnected, etc.), and then print and mail something, but I'm ahead! I'm ahead on something!

Just to make up for that, I got more assignments for my AFR to-do list. But I get paid for that, and it's fun and ... intellectual-growth-inciting. (Post-partum vocabulary. It's better than the first time, but not all that much.) So I finished another Fr. Thomas Hopko podcast, but I don't dare post it until I'm more lucid. (Man, can he talk. I have trouble keeping up with him even on "slow playback." Occasionally I hear him on normal speed by accident, and it's just scary. I'd hate to have to take notes for a class of his; I'd want to write everything down, and there's no way I would be able to keep up.)

The newsletter has been blocked out, and I got a report in already, and a promise of another one, but those are from two ladies whom I know I can count on already. Getting the other reports, and the letter from the Archbishop (didn't leave enough time between my request and the deadline, due to moving up the dates for the newsletter because of the deadline for the retreat which is advertised in the newsletter ... that was fun, too)—those have a higher risk factor.

The other things I'm working on are staying on top of the laundry (so far, so good, although there's a few dribs and drabs on the sofa currently), the dishes (I emptied the dishwasher this morning! We won't talk about the mess on the counters of the previous days and days until my husband took pity on us and just started the dishwasher even though—gasp!—the top wasn't full.), and the childrenses. THERE ARE LOTS OF SMALL NEEDY PEOPLE NOW. Sometimes they are asleep at the same time (like now), and I almost congratulate myself. Other times my head explodes and I wonder whether I am an alcoholic except with cookies. (I'm breastfeeding. Nobody wants a drunk spitty baby. The spitty is bad enough.)

I should have replaced the leg elastics in all the diapers before Lucia was born. I did four. Her legs are simply too small, and I'm tired of getting hit from both ends. (Did I mention spitty?) I want at least the covered end to BE covered. So I'm up to ten of the 24 diapers being "safe."

In terms of spitty, I feel like I'm in my own private Lent. When I went to the birthing center for Lucia's hearing screen, the lady giving it (wish I'd gotten her name; must remember to ask) asked if Lucia spit up a lot and did I drink milk. Yes to both. She said I should drink less milk, because casein, the milk protein (needs a cape or at least a jingle), is hard for babies to digest. She said I craved milk because I needed protein, so I could get that fix by eating "green leafy vegetables and lean cuts of meat." I think milk is also comfort food for me, and my mother was visiting then; I estimated that the previous day I'd had about 12 cups of milk. So I cut it out. She still spits up, a lot, but I think there's a significant decrease, especially at night. I hadn't realized that there was actually a time when, after feeding, you could just rock and pat the baby on the back and not have to screech because you'd gotten blasted and would someone take the baby and put her elsewhere so you could mop everything up and go change clothes and then change the baby's clothes and find where you'd missed the spot and change the baby's clothes again because she's still erupting. NO. You can sit and rock and be dry. Not all the time, but twice in a row was just magical. There was more rest. There was more dry.

I was supposed to go to the midwife today, but received a call saying there was a woman in labor and could I come in on Wednesday. So we moved the appointment, but the (pregnant) office admin was sad because I often bring in banana bread and had already told her I had three fresh loaves ready to bring. So I told her I have more bananas and would make another batch. This morning I made four loaves of banana bread (the fourth was for the (pregnant) office admin at the chiropractor's office where I needed to go to pay the bill and it's right near the birthing center), wrote five thank-you notes (I was caught up three days ago!), packed up baby goods for donation, and made sure the frozen milk was ready to go for donation. So we'll try all that again on Wednesday. During Teddy's naptime. Woo!

We realized the Clergy Family Retreat (lasting about four days) includes the feasts of Ss. Peter and Paul and the Twelve Apostles (June 29 and 30), so it kind of makes going for the little snippet of time (Sunday afternoon to Tuesday afternoon) not worth a trip from south-ish Florida to near-nothing South Carolina. With a small baby and a 2.5-year-old. This would be harder to accept if we didn't have plane tickets to all go to the Metropolis Clergy-Laity, which is not as much fun, but includes some of the same people, which is the reason I get excited about both. Nonetheless, I told my husband he owes me. I'm not sure whether this debt will be paid off in ice cream, a trip to the beach, or letting me go on some sort of retreat by myself (iconography?), or a regular date night (we've never had one; I think we're still on single digits in terms of dates anyhow), or maybe even TAKING a vacation like our bishop told him (and all the priests) to make sure to do.

He is not good at vacations. He is not even good at days off. I have taken to answering at least our home phone all the time so that I can say, "Father is not available right now," because he won't. (Sometimes he does let a person leave a message on his cell, but usually not.)

I think the babies are the hardest part. I thought I would be a good mother. I thought I would ENJOY being with small people all the time. I would be Julie Andrews. We would sing all the time. I would not be angry and shouting and mean. Nobody ever said about the screaming in my head. Somehow, though, it's easier with more things to do. (I have an appointment to talk to someone, but encouraging words are welcome just the same.)

I may just pass out from overuse of parentheses. Tomorrow we are going to visit friends and show off Lucia and maybe have chicken-fried steak (buy-one-get-one-free, and I will eat my vegetables). I miss milk rather desperately.

Holy Friday

2011-04-22T14:29:00.004-04:00

I had written this out at some point during a previous Holy Week, but have no idea what year. Since I am within my 40 days, I thought I would share one of my first impressions of Holy Week as an Orthodox Christian.

This is the evening of Good Friday. We have been at church almost the entire day. After the morning service, we had a children's retreat while the older people decorated the kouvouklion with an overabundance of flowers: red roses, white carnations, sprays of baby's breath, and small purple flowers. It startded as a simple and beautiful carved wooden tomb, and literally blossomed over the day into a bower, calling to mind Christ the Bridegroom.

The first service (in the afternoon) after the kouvouklion was decorated ended with Father's invitation to worship at the soleas. The children crawled happily and humbly underneath to make the path of a cross. At tonight's service, people lit candles, light flooding into all the corners of the church from the altar trickling back to the nave in a slow joyous growing. The chanters sung the doxology, and then the entire congregation sang the song of the angels: "Holy, Holy, Holy!"

We slowly processed on the outside of the church: the cross, the altar boys, the tiny myrrh-bearers all dressed in white like the servant girls carrying the lamps and awaiting the Bridegroom, the kouvouklion, the priest, the chanters, the choir, and the entire congregation. We carried candles, weighed down with overwhelming joy and humility of knowing that we cannot move ourselves to God, so he came to fetch us to Him. The myrrh-bearers scattered rose petals which seemed to have been blood spilling from the tomb and transformed into joyous, velvet, sweet-smelling reminders of God's Love.

Thoughts on Medicine and Health

2011-01-18T19:42:00.005-05:00

Yesterday I went to the ER for chest pain. After the initial rush (shortness of breath, chest pain, and being six months pregnant moves you to the front of the line, evidently), I was stuck in a room without even a call button. I had an X-ray, an EKG, and a CT scan to see whether there were any problems with my heart or lungs or whether I had any blood clots. I seem to have disappointed the doctor with my normal readings, and he sent me home with a stern injunction to see a real doctor—not just a midwife. His diagnosis? Chest pain.

Last night was excruciatingly painful, as I could not find a comfortable position for sleep. I caught a little in Teddy's rocking chair, a few minutes on the couch, another while leaning/lying on the bed until my knees gave out, then sitting up with my legs crossed until my legs fell asleep. I finally got a lovely hour and a half lying on my belly (so you know it wasn't the usual kind of comfortable already) with pillows all under my front, terrified to move and exacerbate the pain ... which makes it a little difficult to relax enough to sleep.

This afternoon I was able to sleep for a glorious two hours. (Interrupted twenty minutes in by Teddy, who then napped next to me.) I was on my back, with the chest pain not gone, but not as terrifyingly *present* as it has been these past two nights. (The first night I made it through by being propped up on the sofa.)

Tomorrow afternoon I'll find out what a chiropractor can do for me. (I've never been to a chiropractor, and had some muddled mental image of an acupuncturist.) What with all the contortions last night, I'm sore all over. The midwives had originally suggested I see a chiropractor for an alignment before labor because I had such a tough time with Teddy, possibly due to the rods in my back. Then I was referred to her because the baby likes to be head-up rather than the preferred head-down position*; a chiropractor would be able to make sure the ligaments and what-not are nimble enough so that the baby can be turned before and during labor. Then all this chest pain crud, which my midwife thinks is either gas (gasx doesn't seem to help), or something stretched due to the bout with food poisoning last week.**

*A breech birth, with the baby remaining head-up would necessitate not only a hospital birth but surgery, due to Florida state law. An alternative is living out-of-state, but with a due date of "the week before Holy Week," that's not appealing either.

**2011 is a bit more exciting than we'd expected. I won't be eating hot dogs any time soon. Also, my first first-hand experience with food poisoning ... at six months pregnant ... and my husband feeling miserable, too (he got better quickly) ... and Teddy, poor love, only throwing up while he was asleep ... I thought things would get slower after the Theophany craziness, which this year included the funerary viewing of a priest the day before (and an extra four hours' drive).

In any case, I meant to write about medicine and health. When we went to see the midwife after the ER doctor had released me, I felt safe. These were people who knew and cared about me. One of the aides asked whether they'd felt my gallbladder, and my midwife quickly jumped in: "They don't like to touch people." I realized that that was quite true. I'd had all these people coming in, giving me a sheet of paper or asking for my credit card, asking me my name and date of birth, not introducing themselves for the most part, whisking me hither and yon—I literally had to ask directions for the exit because nobody told me how to leave—and not telling me how to contact a nurse if I needed one. (The one lab technician who left me with a call button didn't bother to see that it wasn't actually plugged in; fortunately he was kind enough to give my nurse the message that I'd like to see her.)

I don't like hospitals because you cease to be a person. You put your own health and, necessarily, your trust in people who view you as an object of tests and procedures, who are only interested in making sure *you* fit *their* perspective.*** I sent Teddy and Fr. Peter home for lunch, which was scary for me, as I like to have another adult present at all times when I'm in the hospital. (I'm sick and scared, especially without a diagnosis, and I want someone whom I *do* trust to look out for my best interests.) I'm six months pregnant and had only had toast for breakfast (there was Orthros and Divine Liturgy and not much time for more), and was admitted around lunchtime. I was fed because I'd asked for a drink of water; I couldn't get that myself because I was all tied up to the bed with wires and had no idea how to put the bedrails down.

***I wonder whether people have this view of the Church, and how we can work to change that.

I'm still angry at the doctor who released my father from the hospital when his numbers looked fine. (The nurses were horrified to learn he'd been discharged; they knew my father wasn't well enough to leave just by looking at him ... he was readmitted two days later via the emergency room and died in the hospital.) I'm afraid of hospital errors like what happened after my back surgery: I took morphine orally, the nurse wrote it on the chart, I threw up everything, and the shift changed. I didn't have morphine for two hours despite my mother and father's begging, because "it's in the chart" ... fortunately, I only have a nightmare remembrance of that, but that's a "10" on the pain scale for me. There was the hospital nurse who came to take the stitches out of my hand. For stitches, there's a knot, the thread goes through the flesh, and comes out in a knot on the other side. She was supposed to cut one knot, then pull the thread out. She cut *both* knots off, and then had no way to get the thread out. I had my dad resterilize the tweezers and keep her off of me and I took out my own stitches. (And this was when I was still recuperating from back surgery.)

So that's some of the history of why I never want to be in labor or give birth in a hospital. I will drink crazy drinks, I will take weird vitamins and minerals, I will try papaya enzyme (tastes pretty good, actually). I will turn to my midwives and listen to their referrals to chiropractors. We can talk about God and about my husband's being a priest without being awkward. They are not afraid to share their faith with me. That's how I know they see me as a person.

**Disclaimer: There *are* wonderful people who work in hospitals, and I am grateful for their care and their help. I just can't automatically rely on everyone in a hospital setting to see *me* the way I can at the birthing center.

Adventures in Homeschooling ... and stuff

2010-12-08T16:49:00.003-05:00

I am a great waffler on homeschooling. I think it's a marvellous idea. I just don't know whether it's a good fit for either me or for Teddy.

Recently, I read an article suggested by an esteemed friend regarding homeschooling and socialization.

I remember looking over my Montessori "report cards" from when I was small and seeing non-standard subjects. So I thought about what subjects I'd like Teddy to cover right now and came up with a few: reading, writing, arithmetic, life skills (cooking, cleaning, laundry), beauty (art, nature, music, dance), and religion. I jotted down an age-appropriate goal or activity to go with each section.

Since my husband will be out of town for the next couple of days, I figured that making a schedule for my day would be useful. Today has gone quite well. I'm glad that I put in meal preparation times, and am being flexible with myself. (We didn't take a walk this morning, sending Dadda off on his trip instead, and I was late going on errands and couldn't find the blasted lightbulb (bought others which don't fit the little icon light), so we'll go shopping for foods tomorrow.)

My current goals for Teddy:
*reading: putting letters together, like a hornbook sort of thing; maybe I'll try the second lesson tomorrow
*writing: tracing letters; I need to be more prepared for this, as Teddy only wanted to copy the dots. Maybe I can print something out from here
*arithmetic: counting physical items; Teddy tends to keep on going with the numbers, so there may be three items, but he'll count to eleven or twelve
*life skills:
**cooking: we made banana bread today; Teddy loves watching anything about baking
**cleaning: pick up toys and dust baseboards; he's getting better about the first, and I thought he might enjoy something with a dustrag which would save me some bending over; I haven't introduced the latter yet
**laundry: put away clothes; he's pretty good about moving laundry between baskets and machines, but after it's out of the dryer, it usually ends up on the couch for a few days
*beauty:
**art: look at children's art books; haven't pulled any of the multitudes we have yet
**nature: take a walk; oh, well; we'll try again tomorrow
**music: match pitch; I felt like I should have a goal, but he started singing along with the Romanian Christmas carol cd, so I felt progress was made
**dance: clap on beat; again with the need to have a goal, but maybe we'll try this when I watch more Jeeves and Wooster tonight - there's fun music!
*religion:
**icon identification: he picked up on St. Savas last night from a church school display, and did pretty well with St. Barbara and St. Nicholas
**prayers by heart: he was shouting "Agios athanatos, eleison imas!" earlier, so I'll just slow down the usual bedtime prayers
**listen to Mama read the Gospel: oh, yeah, I forgot to do that this morning because I slept in almost a full hour

I think the hardest thing about the Montessori ideas is "a prepared environment" ... and close after that "a prepared teacher." I am trying to make sure that he knows what clean and tidy is ... and thinks it's normal. I wish this were the case for me. Thank goodness for "Auntie Leila"!

Husband just called to report the delivery of both NSP newsletters to the Metropolis and grandmother's chairs to aunt's house!

How long does it take roofers to put a new roof on and why do they seem to work the loudest during Teddy's naptime?

Looking for things, I cleared off an entire section of kitchen counter which just looks and feels wonderful. This is not the kitchen reorganization I was thinking of doing over the next three days, but it's nice to have the dishes done and a whole flat surface to just ... be flat with nothing on it. (I have a tray of miscellany, but moved that somewhere that was already cluttered so I could have a little bit more of success right now.)

I think it is time for a snack, as I am unable to focus. Either that, or I've run out of things to say.

Stretched Too Thin

2010-11-21T12:47:00.004-05:00

Dear friends,

I am struggling. I am the mother of an ever-increasingly-active two-year-old boy. And I am the choir director of our church, as well as the main chanter. These two callings do not work well together, especially as, stretched thin by those demands, I am thickening in the middle. (The baby is due the week before Holy Week.)

Today I received word from a friend on the parish council that he and another parish council member have been receiving complaints about Teddy's behavior. I did not ask for details.

It seems that I have different expectations of my son than everyone else in the entire parish, except my husband. This morning I was filled with joy because Teddy was singing along with the choir more than he ever has before. Instead of just "Lord, have mercy," "Kyrie, eleison," "To You, O Lord," and "Amen," he was singing the trisagion hymn and parts of other hymns in both Greek and English. At the same time, I was frustrated that he still kicks and bangs on the pews, with his feet and with his little cars. I am fine with him standing on a little box to see out of the choir loft, but this makes several members of the choir almost terrified that he'll fall down. He was stopped from going downstairs (after I had specifically said that he should, as he wanted a certain favorite parishioner who was downstairs and I told him he could go and see his Vickie) by one of the choir members who really upset him by picking him up and trying to keep him in the choir loft. She asked doubtfully, "Can he go down the stairs by himself?" People, he's been going up and down those stairs for months. By himself. Carrying toys and whatnot. Plus, I *told* him to go downstairs. Another choir member, better known to Teddy and myself, picked him up and talked to him, but he was still upset enough that I had to hold him almost the rest of the service.

He knows when the Gospel is. He knows he must either be held by me or sit or stand quietly. He sings, "Glory to You, O Lord," at just the right times, without any cues besides what's going on in the service. On the other hand, he's a wiggly two-year-old.

People usually come to me after I'm wrung out with trying to at least contain him when he's been acting up all through the services and say, "Oh, he was so *good* today!" So I appreciated being told that there have been problems with his behavior. (I wouldn't have brought him to the whole parish council meeting if I hadn't needed to tell the parish council things ... and, no, I don't trust my husband to remember them; he's got his own things he needs to take care of.)

The choir and I can't agree on a time for rehearsal. They say they'll come during Orthros (great, but I'm in church) or after Liturgy (I'm exhausted by then; again: I come to Orthros), but not after Vespers on Saturday. So then they're frustrated at sight-reading on Sunday morning. (I am one of very few people who can read music, and even for "Amen" some of them (who very much need to) just won't look up. Now I know what my band directors were always talking about.)

I don't mind preparing the music, and I don't mind singing planned (or unplanned) solos, even though this morning when I was going to review the music, I broke the plug for our electronic keyboard at home and have no idea whether I stayed in tone 4 for the hymn in church. Fr. Peter usually runs the rehearsals, as he's directed choirs properly before. We've talked about recording the hymns ahead of time and putting them on the church website, but there never seems to be time ... without a noisy boy in the background.

God gave me a husband and a son. The choir literally tricked me into being the choir director. (The parish has no money budgeted for a choir director next year, and there are few parishioners who are able, let alone willing, to step in.) It's painful to listen to this choir when there is no director. It's horrible to watch Teddy act up or cry and I'm not able to get to him because I'm in the middle of conducting a hymn. I love having Teddy in the choir, though. I love having him sing, even if he's playing with his trucks at the same time.

Because of the upcoming little one, my time as choir director is necessarily temporary, but with these new-to-me complaints, and with Teddy's increasing wiggliness, I think it will have to be shorter than I had previously expected.

Please pray that I am making the right decision. (I am sure there will still be complaints about the choir and about Teddy's behavior, myself chief among complainers as among sinners.) Teddy, my Theodore, my gift of God—he must come first. As my husband pointed out today in his focus on godparents: I will be judged for my efforts in bringing those in my care to Christ.

As usual, I wish there were an easy answer. Preferably involving ice cream. However, as in giving birth, the only way out is through, taking all my concentration and energy, for a most worthwhile effort.

O Lady who entered into the Temple today as a small child, the Holy of Holies who are yourself so near to God, intercede for me to your Son.

How We Became Hippie Parents, Part 2

2010-06-29T19:18:00.002-04:00

I know, everyone's just been *waiting* for me to continue. Har har. But Rachel said I should go ahead and blog about the things I'm enthusiastic about discovering. (Thank you, Rachel.)

So after a natural childbirth (no thanks to the Harrington rods), the next hippie step we took was cloth diapers.

We were fortunate to have a storefront cloth diaper store (which moved from Florida to Minnesota), so we were able to go in and look and feel the various kinds of diapers they had, and even have the employees there (one at a time) tell us about the various differences between them, and about the various accessories which others had found useful. Basically, I really liked the BumGenius 3.0 One Size pocket diapers, and we were (again) fortunate to be able to make an investment in 24 of the suckers.

BumGenius 3.0 One Size, after 21 months of use:
+excellent absorbency (compared with a few days of disposable/explodable diapers)
+good fit and easy to adjust the size with snaps
---velcro wears out somewhat easily; others have dealt with this by replacing the velcro tabs (getting replacement tabs for free (at the time) from the manufacturer, although I can't find a link now, and sewing them on themselves)

My workaround for the velcro problem: when I take the diaper covers out of the dryer (which also helps with the velcro), I (1) pinch out large clumps of whatever they've picked up (thread and lint; the laundry tabs were the first things to go) and then (2) pinch each hook-side tab together, rubbing it against itself which helps keep the tab from curling further, and (3) keep Teddy in a onesie, often with shorts, to make sure that the diaper stays on (overalls do not work with this tactic, for the most part)

So, if I had to choose again, I would pick something similar (pocket diaper), but make all the adjustable parts with snaps, like the new BumGenius One Size, and like FuzziBunz have been doing all the time (that I know of).

We really only needed the diapers, but there have been a few accessories purchases I highly suggest: cloth diaper pail liners (with a diaper pail, i.e., trash can with step-on lid-opener from Target) and the awesome diaper sprayer (also good for rinsing the tub or feet!).

But cloth diapering is not the extent of the scatological hippieness, oh no! (I wonder how many hits my blog will get for that phrase...) There's something called Elimination Communication (or EC), and it's sort of like potty training (hopefully the end result is the same: the child learning to use the potty himself) but it isn't quite. Basically, it's paying attention to your child and figuring out when he needs to go (after waking up, before and after a bath, around mealtimes, and before bedtime are good places to start trying), and taking him. If he can't sit up yet, you can hold him over the potty. I recommend bringing a book (for you or him) or having special toys to play with on the potty (easily washable is good -- use your dishwasher for extra clean after cleaning it yourself) or fun songs to sing using your fingers (Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes, The Eensy-Weensy Spider, and a Romanian elephant counting song (the one where they're swinging in a spider web, which I've found in several language variants, but I only know the Romanian one, thanks to my husband) were the ones we used for Teddy).

(1) I read The Diaper Free Baby and realized: "Hey, I don't have to do this all the time. Each time Teddy uses the potty is a little victory, and eventually, the diapers will go away. Each time Teddy misses, it's okay; I'll just clean up and move on." (Poop in the potty (with a diaper rinser) versus poopy diaper (and the poo will get all over his everything is a no-brainer; if you're still confused, potty = good. The second part, moving on, was crucial for me and my husband.)

(2) I read this post by a Montessori teacher and mother, and was blown away with the realization that I didn't have to put the potty on the bathroom floor! I could put it on the counter (with a heck of a lot of supervision, but much easier on my back); I could put it in the bathtub (for misses, any tendency to tip the potty over, or just so he couldn't escape ... as easily, or I could put it in the kitchen if that's where we were).

(3) I bought three potties at IKEA (Lättsam) after reading reviews which said they're cheap (yes) and easy to clean (yes). Now we have one in each bathroom and one at my mother's house. Teddy was terrified of the adult-size toilet, and the only good toddler toilet seat I found isn't made for elongated toilet bowls.

I started Teddy using the potty when he was about eight months old. I am glad to have a sister who encouraged me with her experience; she's lived for a bit in India and started her children sitting (terrified that they'd fall in, from what I remember) on the toilet when they were about six months old. I also got training pants from her, and Teddy will pick "underwear" over "diaper" almost every single time. (Which wreaks havoc on my usual laundry schedule which is based on having three diapers left; I may recover.) Today, at 21 months, he has learned to pull down his own underwear (okay, take it all the way off, despite my best efforts) when asked (although he's starting to have more initiative), tell me that he's going pee-pee (usually after he has, a little, but less and less each time), sit on and use the potty, and, awesomely, tell me when he's done—or not. (I love asking: "Are you all done? Are you finished?" and getting his exasperated: "No! Pee-pee!" like he's saying, "Hey, quit trying to rush me! I'm all grown up and using the potty all by myself!") Of course, today we had three instances of poopy diapers (one in the swim diaper,* alas, but I still think we're making progress overall.

*Swim diapers by Imse Vimse and Speedo (found at Target, in their kids' summer swim gear section) have been pretty awesome for our little fish.

In sum, here's my advice:
*Find a place to look at actual cloth diapers before you buy, and steer away from velcro if you can. (Used diapers can often be found on craigslist.) Follow the manufacturer's washing instructions as best you can! I really like the one-size pocket diapers.
*Totally get a diaper rinser. (Make sure your toilet has the adjustable connection to the wall plumbing.) The cloth diaper bags are a good idea, but you'll need two, since you'll be washing one and still need something to put soiled linens in.
*Read The Diaper Free Baby and consider whether this is something you're interested in. You don't have to buy anything extra and you might find that it's easier than you thought, especially since you just have to take it one potty trip at a time.
*Get a potty or toilet seat you and your child are comfortable with. (I figured that if Teddy's screaming about sitting on the toilet, he probably won't be relaxed enough to use it, and since the IKEA potties had good reviews and were under $4, I could experiment.)

Why did we choose cloth diapers? The main point was cost. It's cheaper to use cloth diapers than disposables ... and if we have another child, we'd only pay to use the washing machine (and dryer). The initial investment can be difficult, but we found it to be worth it. Another point was reducing our trash so we don't build up the landfills as much. I admit, I still use plastic bags to carry dirty diapers home, but there are cloth bags which do the same. I think I also read somewhere that human waste isn't supposed to go in the trash, so I feel better about putting waste in the toilet.

My mother was initially horrified at the cost of the new-fangled diapers compared to the cloth diapers she'd used for me (prefolds with pins (augh!) and plastic pants (again: augh!), but once Teddy and I visited her house, she seemed to fall in love with them, and ask me to tell her friend (with a new grandbaby) all about them.

There's still more weird parenting choices to blog about, so either wait (another 18 months!?) or let me know you want more.

Winning

2010-05-10T21:49:00.003-04:00

I have had "blog about BOB books prize" on my to-do list for months.

In January, I won a prize through the Letters of Grace giveaway. Letters of Grace is an Orthodox homeschooling curriculum geared toward children learning to read. It is the product of much hard work from Mary, Anna, and Matushka Emily. These three ladies have created beautiful and harmonious lessons and tested them on their own families, and are freely sharing their work.
***
Teddy loves his BOB books. I thought he'd be too young for them, as they are meant to be read by the child. He'd keep coming up to me and to his father, pushing the first book into our hands and demanding: "Mat! Mat!" (the name of the first book). He loves taking the books out of the box and putting them back in, solemnly turning pages and "reading" them himself, then bringing them to us to unlock their non-plots.

I worry that Teddy won't read enough. I worry that he'll read too much (as I did, and probably do). But I love sharing the discoveries with him. (Okay, most of the time, since I've put the BOB books out of reach for a while. "Mat! Mat!" can be too much since Teddy can't read them himself yet.)
***
So I just wanted to give thanks for Letters of Grace and its creators and share this wonderful resource.

Meal Plan

2010-05-03T16:34:00.002-04:00

While reading posts in Google Reader, I often pause on Mary @ Evlogia's posts, finding them relevant to my current life, or inspiring to some future project. (Most things are on hold, now that we are gearing up for a move this month. The assignment is still not official, so that's all I'll say.)

On the Thursday before last week, I read this post and fell head over heels in love with the idea of a seasonal* meal plan. Mary's meal plans repeat each week within the season, so her family eats the same week's meals (no, not like that) from the Sunday of St. Thomas through the Sunday of All Saints. Then, for the Apostles' Fast, they'll eat using a different meal plan—but one which stays the same week to week within that season.

*Liturgical seasons, that is, fasting for fasts, and feasting for festal seasons.

There are not enough superlatives to describe how awesomely wonderful this is to me. I am struggling with eating vegetables, eating nourishing food, eating varied food**, and preparing meals. I want Teddy to have these things be normal to him, but that means I have to work hard at it now. (Okay, I'd like for these things to be normal for me, too, but that's not as inspiring. Teddy is much cuter.)

**My first academic year at ND included about eight months of lunches and dinners based around chicken patties. And I'm not exaggerating.

So I wrote down all the things we like to eat (feasting-wise) which I could think of off the top of my head, and noticed that three of them (hamburgers, tasty Romanian soup, and seven-layer dip) last for more than one meal. Even with that, it was a bit of a struggle to stretch across to a full 14 lunch and dinner meals, with nothing but the main repeating entree ... well, repeating. Fr. Peter chose seven-layer dip because we'd just had a week of soup, and I don't know whether he will want to have seven-layer dip for weeks and weeks, but so far it is MARVELOUS. I made it on Saturday after the yard sale, and—guess what!—lunch was already made for Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday!

This past Sunday we were so exhausted from the yard sale that I didn't have time to sit down and grind out a meal plan—BUT I ALREADY KNEW WHAT WE WERE GOING TO EAT BECAUSE I REMEMBERED IT FROM LAST WEEK!

Okay, we have a PTO board meeting, paraklesis, and shopping tonight, and fish is on the menu (my one stretch, even though it's Costco fishsticks for me and salmon burgers with garlic for the more adventurous men), and it takes a while. I just wanted everyone to know how awesome this seasonal* thing is.

Thank you, Mary.

On Waiting and Worth

2010-04-19T22:57:00.003-04:00

So this weekend (and today, as it turns out) we've been waiting for important news. We're not allowed to say quite a bit at this point (see: tearing hair out), but we're expecting to hear either that we're ready to move ahead on a whole bunch of work, or we're still going to do some work before we're even at that stage of the game.

Fortunately, this weekend our parish hosted the Metropolis of Atlanta St. John Chrysostom oratorical festival. I got to see Presvytera Christine Salzman, who is wonderful, and I met Presvytera Georgia Metropulos, who is also wonderful. (Ahh, basking in unexpected presvyteres memories.) On Saturday, I attempted to have Teddy take a nap (mostly failed) so we could go with the group on an hour-and-a-half dolphin-sighting boat tour (completely awesome, especially for Teddy). We also got to hang out with some very tall priests (Frs. Grigorios Tatsis and James Berends) on the beach. Teddy threw sand, covered himself in sand, lay down and immersed himself in sand, was slightly buried in sand, ran in the sand, and came home with lots of sand and a beach ball. I love being prepared with changes of clothes. On Sunday it rained, and Teddy went out in it to the point where I just took off most of his clothes and let him go for it. (Did I mention loving having changes of clothes?)

However, with the Very Important Call not going to come on the weekend, I still had plenty of nervous energy. So I worked on my to-do list. I have a love-hate relationship with my to-do list. I really love having things written down, as I have a terrible memory, and things niggle at the back of my head (I've got something Important to do ... what is it?). On the other hand, when I *don't* get things done (hello, the internet), I get depressed and pessimistic and feel worthless in general.

But. With the Very Important Call looming, we decided to pray more. So I had my husband pull out a paraklesis booklet from the heap by the icon corner (yes, "tidy and dust the icon corner" has been a repeat entry on the to-do list for a few months now, and is becoming more important as Teddy's reach and curiosity expand exponentially || I have also added "find *small* paraklesis book" to the to-do list as all we could find is the great paraklesis book), and we started using it. Then I realized that, although I drag my feet when it comes to morning prayers, adding a reader's service of the great paraklesis makes me like doing the morning prayers *and* gets my day off to a better start (oh, hush. days can start at noon, right?); I never thought that adding prayers would make me like praying more. Maybe singing them has something to do with it.

Getting things done on my to-do list has really helped my sense of self, most especially my nightly routine. I've had "put away dishes, clean Teddy's chair, wipe counters, and tidy for 15 minutes" on the daily list literally for months without doing them systematically. I did all of those things last night and it was like a drug. I FELT LIKE A WORTHWHILE HUMAN BEING AGAIN. No more moping, feeling oppressed from all the things I have to do (okay, packing boxes and ahaha planning a neighborhood yard sale impinge on that a bit), and no more feeling like I never get anything done: if I can just trust the self who writes out the list, stop thinking, and just follow what I wrote, I might actually be able to be a grown up (eventually). Just don't ask me to eat the shrimp. That's grown-up food.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

2010-03-28T17:25:00.003-04:00

I am currently reading Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle for our parish book club. (We have a choice between this and No Impact Man, but, since I suggested that one, I'd already read it.) The focus of this book is on eating locally, and the easiest way to do that is to grown one's own food.

I like the ideas in this book as well, and, as usual, they have made me think about how to make similar changes in my life. And this, understandable to those who know me and can join in, makes me laugh. First off, I don't like vegetables. I grew up a picky eater and am slowly attempting to try new foods. For instance, I turned 30 on March 21 this year, and today was my first taste (that I know of) of beets. (They are not quivering blobs of blood after all, but taste, unsurprisingly, like red tubers.) I even ate fish without turning a hair. (I only started admitting to the idea of liking fish less than three years ago, when we moved here and Presvytera Vasso made salmon for us.)

So I've made a rough plan of preparation for starting a vegetable garden (a long-term goal of mine).

Eat vegetables.
Cook vegetables.
Store vegetables (freeze-dry, can, etc.).
Harvest vegetables. (I don't actually know how to tell when things are *ready*, which is probably important.)
Take care of plants (weeding, not killing from over-/under-watering, or bugs and disease, mulch, and plenty of things I'm sure I don't know yet).
Plant things.

Oh, well, I've run out of thoughts and need to rush out to Bridegroom service tonight. Have a blessed and profitable Holy Week, y'all!

Falling and Getting Up

2010-03-11T13:56:00.005-05:00

It's almost 2 p.m. I haven't even gotten dressed or brushed my hair yet. I ought to eat lunch. I'm continuing to write my to-do list while Teddy is napping. (A scheduled naptime when Mommy is tiredest in the day is a beautiful thing.)

The house is a mess. I feel wretched and achy, and am wondering whether this is a new cold or just a resurgence of the one I brought back from MN.

Aqua Zumba did not go well last night, since Teddy could see me but couldn't get to me which resulted in both of us being miserable until I went over to the little pool, Fr. Peter didn't get his full swim in (Presanctified Liturgy was in the morning, so he didn't get his morning swim), and ... okay, it was just a lot harder than regular Zumba without the water resistance. So I'm probably not going to go to another Aqua Zumba for a while. I'm undecided on tonight's Zumba class.

I've been enjoying rereading favorite books (Harper Hall trilogy by Anne McCaffrey, and will start some Robin McKinley today) while I've been feeling low, and might have to be more conscious about how what I read affects my mood.

Yesterday was one sister's birthday, and I'm still working on getting her what she asked for for Christmas (a family portrait).

I will rest, but I will not give up. My house will be messy, my baby will be cranky, and I will be exhausted ... and that's okay. I will continue to write out my to-do list, and I will continue to keep going. By the grace of God, I will get up when I fall. Sometimes it takes me a little longer than others.

Reading Method Journalism; or, Mindfulness

2010-03-04T14:30:00.004-05:00

I have recently read Colin Beavan's No Impact Man and watched the movie, and this afternoon just finished reading Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project. The first was an attempt to reflect values in actions and daily life, and the second was an attempt to improve one's happiness (and overall life) by analysis and experimentation.

Starting with Teddy's pregnancy (I think; maybe I'm just not able to remember further back), I started enjoying something I never thought I would: reading non-fiction books. I especially like reading books which either tell me how to do something (like John Rosemond's books on disciplining children, where "discipline" means "make a disciple of") or relate the author's struggle to improve himself in a way which makes me think on how I could improve both myself and my life.

One of the things which impressed me about Ms. Rubin's book was the preparation time she spent in plotting out what she wanted to accomplish, the steps she needed to take, and the order in which to take them. She thought of this in April, and researched and read and took notes, and only started her year-long project in January. I also like that each month had a different emphasis, so there would be a refreshment of purpose throughout the year.

I'd like to try doing a Happiness Project myself, but I am afraid of failure. In Molly Sabourin's Close to Home (an awesome early birthday present from my husband, and my absolutely most favorite book right now—I've never had the urge to take notes inside a book before, usually being horrified by the idea of writing in books), she relates the story of a young monk who asks Abba Sisoes what to do when he falls. "Get up!" "I got up, and I fell again!" "Get up again!" "For how long should I get up when I fall?" "Until your death." I'm afraid of the failure of not getting up again, of not continuing to try, of despairing and turning away from God.

So, instead, I'm going to try, and I'm going to trust God.
----
I was frustrated with my tendency to want to buy all the Orthodox children's books I could find, and then not to read them, or to find them only after the saint's day had passed. I've started putting together a personal synaxarion (or whatever book it should be) spreadsheet to list the icons, books (and board books), icon bookmarks (and pins and pendants), and podcasts for spiritual relevance for Teddy. A spreadsheet lets me sort by each category, although the most useful is "date."

Today's items are for the Third Thursday of Lent and for St. Gerasimos of the Jordan:

Children's Bible Reader, p. 139: Wise Words of Solomon (Proverbs 10-16)
Povestiri Pentru Copii, v. 5, p. 72: St. Gerasimos of the Jordan (Sfântul Gherasim și Leul)

I've also been having some success with keeping a menu plan, even though it's still not very good, it at least provides a back-up plan for what to eat, and helps me make the shopping list to make sure that we have everything that we need. I don't include breakfast, because we don't seem to eat that as a family, and I usually have cookies and cocoa and then wait to eat lunch. (We usually eat two dinners, though, before and after we go to the pool in the evening.)

Today's lunch was intended to be the soup made on Tuesday (tomato-rice soup from the Romanian cookbook), but yesterday it reminded me of worms/shrimp, so I went with toasted bagels and bruschetta, with potato chips on the side for extra crunch. The plan for dinner is mashed potatoes, but I might be able to scrounge up a salad, too, if my husband didn't use up all the tomatoes on his soup.
----
On Saturday, Teddy and I returned from MN, where we were visiting my sister and her family (oh, the joy of cousins!) for ten days. The Sunday before this was our parish Greek festival, and the day when Teddy decided to go from four naps a day to one. ONE. We also got sick at my sister's house, and I am still a bit under the weather. However, I did take the plunge and went to a Zumba class on Tuesday evening, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I haven't sweat (sweated?) that much since giving birth to Teddy, and, of course, the one-hour class was much more enjoyable than that. It reminded me a bit of doing Mousercize in elementary P.E. class: everyone was excited to get to do fun exercising. The rhythms made it easy and enjoyable, and there were breaks just often enough. My only problem was a rhythm-challenged boy who gangled obtrusively right in front of me, so I'll see about getting into the room a little earlier for a better place. Another husband-assisted early birthday present was the Zumba DVD set, which looks fun and arrived yesterday. (Teddy already likes the rhythm sticks.)
----
Reading Molly Sabourin's book and blog posts make me worry about my spiritual side. I struggle to pay attention and to be mindful, but I'm not sure I succeed very often if at all. Last night's Presanctified Liturgy was more of an exercise in keeping Teddy quiet and silently apologizing to the few parishioners who were probably all watching Teddy's antics than of any spiritual growth.

As always, please keep me in your prayers.

Update; or, I don't want to go on the cart!

2009-11-11T00:24:00.002-05:00

Not dead yet.

I've been struggling with negative thoughts recently, adding to apathy and laziness.

Please pray that I get it together.

September 9

2009-09-09T22:31:00.002-04:00

I really need a new keyboard, one that doesn't require movement from the shoulder to get the lower line of letters and the space bar to come through.

Today was the Tampa Bay presvyteres' meeting, which went pretty well. (Just the Greek Orthodox presvyteres from the Tampa Bay vicarship.) We had eight presvyteres and Teddy, and it was lovely to see the other seven presvyteres. Next week many of us will get together in Winter Haven for the patronal feast of St. Sophia.

Fr. Peter dropped me and Teddy off at home, and Teddy went straight to bed. (He'd missed a couple of naps.) I don't know what happened to the 2.5 hours before Fr. Peter came home from work, but I didn't rest enough and started getting symptoms of something. I took an antihistamine and drank lots of sports drink and water.

I started getting things done that I'd skipped in my morning routine (watering plants, making the bed, etc.), and realized that I wanted to skip swimming. I told my husband and then I got to look forward to some uninterrupted me-time while the boys went to the pool.*

*Teddy can swim to the wall from at least six feet away.

I did laundry. I put the Project 365 photos up. I worked in the yard. I cleaned the bathroom. I watched NCIS. (Aren't commercials little breaks so you'll go do housework?) I tidied the living room.

I still have a huge list of things to do, but I feel so much better.

Part of my morning routine is putting my hair up. It's really surprising how much more ready and efficient I feel just by doing that. Also, I love that I don't have to worry about it once it's up: two French braids and a clip, and it doesn't move.

September 5

2009-09-05T21:14:00.002-04:00

At about five in the afternoon, I finished what I'd like to be my "morning routine." Of course, that doesn't usually include going swimming. (Forgot the camera again, dang it.)

Last night, Teddy slept through the night for the second time in a row since we had houseguests and went travelling and messed up his schedule. It was marvelous, and strange at the same time.

I worry that I spend too much time on the computer and in books. I'm not spending enough time doing the things around the house which need to get done, and I'm not spending enough time with my family. I haven't managed to plan meals in advance, so I've been mostly on a diet of hot dogs and pizzas. In addition to being really bad for me, health-wise, as well as for any weight loss, it's a horrible example to set for Teddy.

On the positive side of things, I did stick to my routine until I got it done, including exercises for my back. And, well, I'll keep trying tomorrow.

September 3

2009-09-03T20:43:00.002-04:00

Today I managed to go to the family storytime at the library, even though we were late due to an unexpected poopy diaper.

I spent most of the afternoon on the computer working on presvyteres stuff. The article ("by Teddy") of the Atlanta Metropolis Clergy-Laity is still too large, so I will have to figure out how to reduce the filesize of each of the pictures, then resize them to what they currently are, and make sure everything works.

I decided not to go to the water aerobics thing tonight, but took about an hour to work in the yard some more. I didn't realize I was so long, since I started about an hour later than I usually do, and went until I couldn't tell dirt from leaves (and was trying not to think of bugs).

Still doing more cogitating than working on the presvyteres directory. I'm much better at looking things up than calling people I don't know. Oh, well. I'll see what I can do with a fresh start tomorrow.

New Year's Resolutions

2009-08-31T15:15:00.003-04:00

It's that time again. The ecclesiastical new year** starts tomorrow, and over the past few days I've been thinking about what I want to start doing, and what I want to continue doing that I've recently started.

I want to keep working on ...
*menu planning, with the help of this site.
*water aerobics twice a week.
*gardening and working in the yard for an hour each evening.
*saying morning prayers each day.
*having our weekly "family sing."

I want to start ...
*taking a picture each day and posting it online.
*blogging at least once a week.

**I linked to the article on the Twelve Great Feasts because I love the way the Orthodox ecclesiastical year starts with the birth of the Theotokos and ends with her Dormition (feast of the Assumption, for you Catholic readers).

Sixtieth lunacy

2009-07-24T19:59:00.002-04:00

Five years ago, we got married. The invitations said, "Vespers and reception to follow."

I'll never forget our wedding night: I had an ear infection, and my new husband sang and sang to me for hours. And we watched Brit Sits, as it was a Saturday.

It seems strange to have lost two parents and gained a son in that time. I've never known how to answer the question, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" I don't look back very well, either. But this does make me curious to see what will happen in the next five. Will I be able to weather storms more gracefully? Will I be able to give strength to my family?

Living

2009-06-01T16:29:00.002-04:00

This baby thing sure is turning out to be a lot of hard work. Of course, I didn't really appreciate the 6:30am wake-up after having settled into a routine with a wake-up at 8am, but I got all the errands and the laundry done before lunch, thanks to my wonderful husband who took the baby almost all morning.

I have been struggling to keep the house in order. Any kind of order. As it is the first of June (Happy Rabbit Rabbit Day!), I am starting another month's worth of work. (I would have started planning this weekend, but on Saturday we had community clean-up day at church followed by basketball, and Sunday had a pan-Orthodox (non-fasting) gathering and a graduation party. This is also the reason Teddy-o's schedule is off.)

I am currently reading Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House by Cheryl Mendelson, and am struck by how funnily and well she writes as well as the very idea that ... she likes keeping house. And that I might, too, once I figure out what I'm doing. I've already noticed that I don't stress about our laundry or shopping, since I know that happens on Mondays. (Oh, drat, as does cleaning the bathroom, which hasn't miraculously done anything on its own.) I laugh at some of her ideas, but at the same time realize that if I did get on a schedule, I might actually do some of those crazy things, like taking out the trash and sanitizing the trash can every day. But at this point, anything is better than nothing.

I like sitting down with my husband and talking about what he wants and what I want and how we can get there. (Sometimes the first two vary widely from the second, and we need Jeeves, alas, who is nowhere to be found.) I like making lists and knowing what's going to happen before it's on top of me. I am getting better at realizing that after a month, if I don't, the lower-priority tasks (dutifully copied onto the next day's to-do list) can simply be relinquished to the overall to-do list. (I have two separate steno pads: one was started after I could think again after giving birth ... although most of the time I'd find the pad and realize I had no idea what the idea was, two seconds later; the other is a to-do list which gets, usually, longer and longer as the month goes on, although occasionally I do cross things off. The main to-do list has the left-hand column for repeated daily tasks (weigh, water plants, exercise) and the right-hand column for specific tasks for that day (and lots snowballing from previous days). The right-hand column is divided into broad priorities: things which should happen today and important; tasks of medium importance; and other things I'd like to do sometime but thought of today so I should put them down before the thought leaves entirely. An example of the latter I completed today: research velcro. (See? How many times would your mind tell you to do that?)

I am also putting together a husband-and-wife-generated wishlist of what things should be accomplished each week, attempting to establish actual daily and weekly routines. Then there's a sheet of paper with all the days of June listed in the middle: on the left are feasts and birthdays and whatnot, and on the right will be various cleaning tasks. (Today, for example, I am cleaning behind the refrigerator; evidently the previous tenants had dogs, as that is what the vacuum cleaner smells like now. I will have to make a second attack on the remnant sludge. ugh.)

On a somewhat related note, putting my hair up does wonders for how I feel, and what I feel I can accomplish. It's just two French braids, twisted and secured with a large clip, but it's cool (temperature-wise, though others seem to like it as well, or at least better than my previous non-style) and, my favorite part, it STAYS PUT. This means that I do not have to feel self-conscious about taking out a scrunchie and putting my hair back in it (in church, oh, cringe) or worrying how quickly I can do that and whether Teddy will reach whatever exciting piece of something before I have my hands free again.

I am looking forward (still) to the Metropolis of Atlanta Clergy-Laity Conference. I am only in charge (and only somewhat in charge) of the ice cream social for the presvyteres. Yes, that does mean Blue Bell. And yes, I bought it on sale. And there's a good chance that there will be more half-gallons than people attending, but you can never have too much Blue Bell. (Well, okay, but I haven't eaten any since February. I have been Very Good. It's starting to hurt a bit now.) I am excited at the prospect of seeing friends from seminary, and introducing them to Teddy and vice versa, and seeing how their little ones are not so little any more, and just being with them.

I'm a really horrible correspondent, but I think about people almost all day long. I wish there were a program or a method or something-involving-lists to improve my correspondence skills. I can do thank-you notes (there's another list on a steno pad, and a note on my regular to-do list), but somehow I am intimidated by just emailing back. What if the other person thinks I'm irritating, or pushy? (I'd probably get told so, and wouldn't have to worry about it.) And then I move on to other things rather than respond right away ... And then it's later and I realize I never responded to the email and it's three months gone, and the guilt simply piles up.

Well, there are dishes in the sink, and my skin is telling me to move the thermostat so it's below 80, and I need to take just one more little peek at my little fellow who hasn't made a sound for a few hours now. Please keep me in your prayers.

Birthday 29

2009-03-22T13:56:00.003-04:00

Now I'm in my prime.

I just wanted to say how nice my birthday was. Thanks to facebook (early) and my sisters (late), I got to extend my birthday sense of festivity beyond the usual 24-hours. (A la pre- and post-feast, as Emma points out. Hmm. Her husband is in his prime, too. A different prime, but still.)

Fr. Peter and Teddy and I, after breakfast, went to a middle school whose music program was having a rummage sale. (Yay to checking craigslist!) For about twelve dollars—I was spending, not counting, so that's Fr. Peter's estimate—I bagged (literally, because Fr. Peter was smart and got the tote bags from the trunk of the car) about two feet of books, a popsicle-making kit, and a penguin marionette. Most of the books are at least nominally for Teddy, although when we came home I plowed through four of them, and am in the middle of the fifth.

Aaaahhh. Books.

I think I will have some more of the lenten (so I can share!) applesauce cake (new-to-me-recipe from Khouria Virginia Massouh from last Sunday's pan-Orthodox vespers) I made on Friday and rest my feet up. I will stop posting before I run out of parentheses (horrors!).

Framed!

2009-03-14T14:48:00.003-04:00

After having been inspired, I went to Michael's and bought framey things for artwork I've had since a pre-teen trip to England, a college trip to Chicago, and a recent trip to my mother's house.

My mother bought these lovely Cicely Mary Barker "Flower Fairies" when we went to England for a conference of hers. I think I was twelve. "The Wood Sorrel Fairy" and "The Wind-Flower Fairy" were already matted, so I just found some frames and put them in.

On September 14, 2003, I was visiting a friend in Chicago, and we went to some Irish or Celtic festival, and all day I mooned about this booth, wringing my hands about not being able to afford some artwork by Jeff Fitzpatrick. I ended up not being able to say no, and bought an entire set of limited edition Iris giclée prints even though I could not afford them. (This was when I took out a loan for my last semester at Notre Dame.) Each of the four smaller prints is a slightly different size, and I ought to get them matted, but they are in frames, which is much better than between sheets of cardboard in the guestroom closet. (I know the date because I still have the receipt with the certificates of authenticity and artist's explanations of the symbolism in each piece.)

During a trip to my mother's house at the end of February through the beginning of March, I was assigned the task (among many, and I am requested to go back) of sorting through three paper-box-fuls of photographs and memorabilia. I found these darling little cards of the Christchild. My mother said I could have them, and that they were modern (1970s?) versions of the (1930s?) artwork she and Papa had picked out for me at an antique shop (unknown to me until Teddy came along) when they were driving between Houston and Notre Dame.

It was difficult to find frames I liked for these, so I just got some unfinished ones, and a sheet of decorative paper for backing. (And I splurged on an X-acto knife, which I had missed using since I don't get to plunder through my sister's art supplies on a regular basis any more.)

I spent just about an hour and a little over $60 at Michael's. I was very glad at the prices and sizes, as the last time I wanted something framed it was a custom job and cost over $200. Teddy took a nap in his little stroller, and we were just in time to pick Daddy up from his marriage counseling session. While they took their naps, I framed and took metapictures and even posted! I think I will be happily lazy the rest of today. ... but I'm not allowed to go back to Michael's until all these things are hung somewhere!

No Jury Duty

2009-02-23T12:29:00.002-05:00

I know most people want to get out of jury duty, but I had been rather looking forward to participating. Unfortunately, Teddy probably wouldn't be happy at being separated from his food for an entire workday. (We tried bottle feeding once, and all three of us were exhausted and unhappy afterwards.)

I was excused as "a parent or legal guardian of a child under 6 and not full-time employed." I think it's neat that I was able to do this online, but a little sad that I couldn't add a note: Try back when my son is weaned!

I don't get to use the word "weaned" enough, I think. Also, I like calling Teddy "yeanling," thanks to Fr. Seraphim's influence. (Mary was referred to as "the Ewe that yeaned the Lamb of God.")

Happy St. Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T15:37:00.004-05:00

Even though the Orthodox Church doesn't celebrate St. Valentine today—I've seen July 6, July 30, and October 24 at least—I read a post today about the blogger's grandparents, which reminded me of my own. I have inherited my grandmother's genealogy papers and paraphernalia, and this includes several little love notes. This is one from my mother to her father, or, as is written on the back in a little girl's scrawl: "Daddy from Cathie."

Other little treasures include Easter, Father's Day, and Christmas cards. I know there are people who are down on having a holiday for romantic love, but I remember my grandmother weeping for the husband she'd lost more than ten years earlier. I like using the icon stickers from the Archdiocese's mailing labels as "stamps" on my little love notes to my husband.

Overheard in the Nursery

2009-02-04T17:00:00.001-05:00

"This little piggy went to Marquette;
"This little piggy went to Notre Dame."

How long before Daddy has a sidekick for his puns?

Promises, Promises

2009-01-22T17:07:00.003-05:00

Okay, folks, I got myself in trouble this time. I commented on Mimi's blog and (somewhat inadvertently) committed myself to participating. I have an entire year to forget and procrastinate! Yet, I live in hope.

I agreed to participate in the following “crazy train” so now I must post the following:—"Crazy Chain of Making" (from ramsey to Jocelyn to Laura to Mimi to me)

The first five people to respond to this post will get something made by me. It will be about or tailored to those five people.

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:
- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make!
- What I create will be just for you.
- It'll be completed this year.
- You have no clue what it's going to be or when its going to be. It may be fiction. It may be poetry. I may draw or paint something. I may bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure!
- I reserve the right to do something extremely strange.

The catch? Oh, the catch is that you have to put this in your journal as well, if you expect me to do something for you!

*Please put your postal address & email address in your ~~comment or~~ email it to me!—In other news, I am sick. I have committed to taking Teddy to a Tampa Bay area clergy vasilopita cutting—very confusing; what's wrong with January 1?—tomorrow night. Fr. Peter will be starting his lifeguarding training, so he won't be going.

I also want to say that I have a total crush on this blog (this post in particular, and the blog in general). The pictures and writings are reflections of true beauty which I believe is only found in a life lived in pursuit of Truth (Himself). I understand that when one has time to blog, things often look nicer than the everyday messes of life, but I'm the kind of person who goes to museums and says, "I need this for my house." (Rather a problem when the original items included a large assembly of household and grounds staff ...) But I do need this for my life: a commitment to strive for the good things, to make my family into saints, to make our house into a home (somehow this involves vacuuming more often, I think), and to participate more fully in creation (gardening and volunteering). I am so frustrated that I am, and will always be, miles away from all of my goals, and that it's so difficult to just keep up with just the very basics (forget dishes and cleaning the bathroom, I'm talking remembering to get dressed and eat meals, nevermind trying to get back to meal planning).

I want to be the kind of person who has a calm center based on prayer and service to Christ. I want to be well-educated, aware of the issues in the world and local community—not just someone with an expensive piece of paper. I want to be able to invite people over to our house for dinner more often than twice a year. I want to not have to remember where I've stuffed the papers I hid (to be filed) when cleaning up for houseguests. I'll be 29 in March, and I don't feel even slightly grown up, except that I can make myself eat vegetables sometimes. It's hard to fight off the feeling that since I want something that's really hard to get, that it's not even worth trying—I think that has always been my hardest obstacle.

I finished reading a Montessori book today, and while I don't agree with several of the authors' ideas ("doctrine and dogma" seem just as bad to them as "Naziism and socialism"—what?!), I do like the idea of giving the child tools which will be useful to him as a man. I have to work to acquire the tools of self-discipline, cleanliness, and order before I can help my son.

I think I will start by taking my vitamin for the day and drinking another large glass of orange juice.

Lists and Miscellany

2009-01-02T16:30:00.002-05:00

I'm a big fan of lists. The giant, leaping thoughts of "Gee, I really need to get this done, but not right now" have a place to go, so I can hold onto them. My brain was especially bad after the baby was born, so I just got a stenographer's notebook (just like my dad used to use for his notes) to make a list of things I needed to remember.

Today I finally took a few hours and tried on all my clothes, after putting most of the maternity clothing in the suitcase. (I had one in the laundry, one I'd never worn, and one in the car ... but I'm not sure I can close the suitcase again without help.) There's quite a bit of clothing which I can't get into, some things which I'll be donating, and lots of extra hangers (as opposed to the previous none for guests). I have hanging in the closet seven skirts and two dresses which either fit or fit well enough to be used in case of emergency. I have no pants (except one pair of drawstring) which fit, but three pairs of shorts which fit ... more or less. I have way too many shirts, especially white ones, and I'm not sure why I keep holding onto the ones which are nice, but I don't like them. So there may be further purging after my husband gets home, with his extra brain cells. I do have one pair of nice pants which fits, but until it snows in Florida, I won't be wearing them. (Augh!) So eventually I will be going shopping again. I have lots and lots of baby clothes to return (he still has more than I do), and plenty of gift cards, so that's all right, but I would rather shop in the thrift stores anyhow. It's more fun, and it seems easier to find things which I both like and can fit into. (Also a good place to get clean, ironed shirts for my husband. Score!)

I am a bit leery of the coming week. Today is my day to clean the house and get things ready, but little yowly boy has been confusing me. I think he wants to eat, so I try to feed him, but he screeches and screeches until I get so sick of it that I put him back to bed. Which is what he wanted. Poor thing.

Saturday we're going to the monastery to get the icons and baptismal favors. Sunday there's Liturgy. Monday there's Liturgy, picking up Paul (godfather-to-be) at the airport, calling people (Presvytera Georget, the dentist to reschedule the appointments, and the OB/GYN about the refund), possibly going swimming at the pool, and a hierarchical dinner thingy. (Maybe there's a vespers somewhere?) Tuesday there's Orthros and Liturgy in Tarpon Springs, with all its festivities, then rest (maybe) and on to Tampa for their church's festal vespers. Wednesday is Tampa's festal Orthros and Liturgy, greeting my mother from the airport, and picking up Thanasi (our seminarian for the GOYA Winter Event this year) from the airport. Thursday is the long-awaited baptism and taking Paul back to the airport. It gets less hectic after that, since I am not planning on going to the Winter Event, but I will still have a houseguest (and my mother, who is staying in a nearby hotel), and, of course, the laundry.

We will attempt to watch a Jane Austen (about, not of) movie tonight, and I may figure out a bit more of Traveling With Infant airline stuff. (Advice welcome; please comment.) After that, we're off and running with no time to look back. Thank goodness there's the Holy Spirit. (Yes, that's redundant, but it's still nice.)

How We Became Hippie Parents, Part 1

2008-12-31T14:28:00.003-05:00

Well, let's start the finger-pointing. Mairs' story of the birth of her daughter made the Bradley Method and natural childbirth get into my head. I found the list of Bradley Method teachers online, and my husband contacted one. She said that she was taking a break from teaching, and referred us to another teacher on the list.

I checked out some of the books listed on the Bradley website. (Here are my reviews of parenting books.) I wanted to read the original thoughts of the doctors who came up with the natural childbirth ideas, and read the "basic" books I could find for Bradley (also called "Husband-Coached Childbirth"), Lamaze, and almost anything else I could get my hands on. However, after reading Dr. Bradley's Husband-Coached Childbirth, I realized that everything else sounded silly, and this was obviously the best way to go for us.

So we signed up for classes and started going to them. Our Bradley Method teacher had a little library of books and other media to check out, so I happily perused several of those options.

Then it was time for the Birth Plan. (If you know me at all, you understand that my love of over-planning and of making lists warrants the capitalization.) So I asked my OB/GYN (several of them, repeatedly, since it's a group) about the various "normal" things. And the more I learned about natural childbirth, the more I realized that ... um ... my doctors weren't listening to me. Coming up with several drafts of a birth plan, they seemed to get a particular Look on their faces when they came across things like "no IV" and "food and water." (If there is a desire for an explanation of what I wanted and why, I'll be happy to explain. I took lots of notes, and may even be able to find some of them.)

We took the suggested hospital childbirth preparation class, and the idea struck me that I was going to be much too busy having the baby to try to fight the doctors and nurses to get them to leave me alone when I didn't want interventions.

So we took this difficulty to our Bradley Method teacher and she suggested taking a tour of the local birthing center. When we went to look at cloth diapers at a nearby store, I picked up a flyer (wow, the hippie-ness!) and there was an advertisement for the birthing center there, too. So we made the appointment. I never had to discuss my Birth Plan with the midwives there. Every single thing in my birth plan was their normal operating procedure. Also, the birthing center was nice and cozy, and the people seemed especially friendly and attentive.

So we switched (after much worry (on my part, at least) and discussion) from the standard, everyone-normal-does-this OB/GYN to the almost underground alternative midwife-staffed birthing center.

I borrowed Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin from our Bradley Method teacher's lending library. I thought there would be lots of theory and discussion, like many of the other books on natural childbirth I'd been reading. On the contrary, this book was mostly birth stories written by the mothers, fathers, midwives, and attendants, in their own language. (This had initially put me off, as it was written by actual hippies who had "rushes" instead of contractions and when things were serious, they were "heavy.") Yet when the midwife asked me to make the decision during labor of whether I wanted her to break my waters, I knew that Ina May Gaskin (after whom the Gaskin Maneuver was named) regularly broke the waters of the mothers under her care, so I was able to make an informed decision, despite being in heavy labor.

Oh, and when we took the hospital tour, I was just laughing to myself that I had ever considered going to the hospital over the birthing center.

Before I get too ahead of myself, I just want to say "thank you" to Mairs for her unintentional help to me, my husband, and our little son.

(I also want to add that although I have nothing against going to the hospital, I have had too many unpleasant experiences in the hospital (and one at this particular hospital) to make me feel altogether comfortable trusting the staff there.

(When I was sixteen I had back surgery (insertion of Harrington rods for scoliosis) and stayed in the hospital for a week. At one point during that week, I was given morphine orally. I threw it up, and the nurses changed shifts. They had down on my chart that I had taken the morphine, and, despite my mother's protests (which are all I remember coherently, besides pain), they would not give me any more for the next two hours.

(My father was discharged from the hospital by a doctor who looked at the test results instead of the man. The nurses, when he had to be readmitted within a few days, were shocked. One said, "He should never have been discharged!" Within a week, my father was dead.

(When I had a miscarriage later that summer, and I wanted to have one more ultrasound to make sure (and to give God one more chance for a miracle) the morning I had the D&C, I had everyone except the sonogram technician express complete disbelief that it was even possible for me to have a full bladder (for the sonogram) and to not have eaten or drunk anything that morning. Don't most people have any idea of biology, or the fact that it takes time to process what you eat and drink?

(When my mother goes to the hospital, she always gets an itemized bill and checks it, and has taught me to do the same. She has had to fight to get things removed from the bill like the anesthesiologist fee. She didn't *have* an anesthesiologist.

(And that is why I don't like hospitals. I will use them when necessary, but I don't trust them. This is not to say that there aren't good people working in hospitals, but when you already have an idea that people aren't going to listen to you ...)

The Parenting Paradigm

2008-12-17T18:36:00.003-05:00

After conversation with my husband about where to put posts on parenting (which question he said I answered myself), it has been decided that parenting rambling will go here rather than there.

Mostly, I'd like to have a place where I feel comfortable talking about our and my parenting choices, and being excited about learning new things about the developing little person we have in our family.

Today is the first time I have felt like a competent mommy. The past several days have been hectic (something outside the home in the morning, afternoon, and evening, almost every day since Friday), and today I didn't have to leave home at all. (I love staying at home, in my box of a house. I do have to make an effort to take walks outside, and be in sunshine, etc. For the record, Teddy and I took two little front-yard-only walks today.)

I do not know how related it is, but today was also the first day I tried to cut down on the pacifier use. I was confident in my decisions to put him down for his naps. I set the timer for five minutes and let him wail (taking notes on changes in tone to help me not go in to him). After the timer went off, I tried caressing his forehead to soothe him, but he kept fussing, so in went the paci, after which he was asleep if not right away then by the time the timer marked another five minutes. (I have a really bad sense of time.) Throughout the day, he didn't really cry at the changing table, and seemed to cry less at on my lap as I prepared to feed him.

I have been reading and listening to plenty of advice over the past three months. Reading includes several Montessori things (in books and online) and lots of parenting blogs. Advice has included my family (mother: he's too cold; sister: he's too hot; conclusion: he's just fine), parishioners of our home parish as well as other parishes (including one Greek lady who assured me that my next* will be a girl), and random people (what a sweet little girl!). And then there are all the people who give me advice, and, either just before or just afterwards, tell me I should go with my gut. Well, my gut is now educated, advised, driven by hormones, and has made compromises with my husband on how to deal with child-based challenges. So it's a very confused gut indeed, and I don't always know even what I want to do.

*We have postponed the actual discussion of having another child until all three of us have made it to September 2009.

We went to confession on Monday, and I raised the difficulty I had been having with receiving advice. I do know people mean well, but it's awfully hard to hear the same criticisms over and over without feeling rather resentful. For instance, having my baby in a sling: "He's always in there." "Isn't that bad for his spine?" "Isn't that bad for your back?" "He'll be growing out of that soon." And the first coffee hour, people kept putting cash right next to his face and hands. I'm a new mommy and I reserve the right to be germophobic. I put him in the sling because he likes it, I like it, and I remembered the Greek custom of "spitting"* to "keep away the evil eye"** and figured that if I kept him close to me, people would keep their distance a bit more than if he were in the stroller. (Ha! to the last part. Some do, but they don't cancel out the ones who don't.)

*One, in the service of baptism, you spit on the devil, not on the baby, and I really don't care for the association. Two, just because you mean to fake spit doesn't mean you are not actually spitting, and that's just gross. (I was "spat" on during pregnancy, and that's okay, but not on my baby with the immune system still being worked on, thankyouverymuch.)

**Once he's baptized, as pointed out by the abbess of the Annunciation Monastery, the evil eye can't hurt him. Also, I think the idea of the evil eye isn't worth bothering about.

So anyway, in confession Fr. Petros helped me focus on the fact that a priest's child is a child of the community, and everyone wants to have a share in loving him. (Selfish grumble: mine! mine!) So I will do my best to keep smiling and "thanking them for their contribution" as Fr. Petros put it. Also, I have the satisfaction of taking him home with me and doing mostly as I please with the boy.

For whatever reason, praise and questions are almost as annoying as criticism. Although I do like the praise much better, I am a little tired of being asked whether I am breastfeeding (yes) and told that I made the right choice (or: "Good for you!"). Perhaps it is the quantity, or the fact that breastfeeding seems more like a non-choice to me: I decided on it, my husband supports me, and by now it is working.

This post is already long, but I will try to keep posting as my brain and baby allow. I hope to answer the thought my husband had when he (a "veteran dad" of two months) brought our son to the Boot Camp for New Dads, "When did we turn into the hippie parents?"

Rosencranz?

2008-10-29T20:52:00.000-04:00

He: "I had a weird dream about you last night, but never mind."
I: "No, no; sit down! ... Well? What?"
He: "Nothing."
I: "What?"
He: "Nothing."
I: "What!?"
He: "What? Nothing."
I: "You can't take both lines!"

Margarine, not butter

2008-10-20T10:58:00.002-04:00

"According to your sister, this is molten death."
"Molten death?"
"I was paraphrasing."

This is what happens when all three sisters get together and have French toast.

Did You Ever?

2008-09-23T20:23:00.004-04:00

M.: I'm allowed to be weird, 'cause I'm a convert, right?
Fr. P.: That's what I hear...
M.: Whom have you been talking to?
Fr. P.: This one and that one and this one and that...
M.: Did they ever see a lassie? She's going their way!

This oddity brought to you by the letter T, which rhymes with P, which stands for pool.

Looking at Mobiles

2008-09-06T22:32:00.001-04:00

Me: I don't know. I don't think I'd want sheep dangling over my head.

Him: The sheep of Damocles!

Duped by the whole parish!

2008-08-30T13:57:00.006-04:00

About two months ago, I received an invitation to "The Presvytera's Luncheon." I assumed that this was a typo, and it was supposed to be "The Presvyteres' Luncheon." I emailed the church secretary to ask what this was about, and she said that Presvytera Vasso was in charge, and that she herself did not have any other information to give me. What with everything else going on, I kept forgetting to ask Presvytera Vasso about it.

Presvytera Vasso had told me way back that there would probably be a shower for me, and that the whole parish would be so excited about this baby, that I should not buy anything, but should register: I could always buy things later. So one thought was that this luncheon would be some presvyteres get-together, but another thought was that maybe it was the baby shower. I told my husband about this, and he basically shrugged and went back to researching for the best stroller (or whatever) to add to the registry. Obviously not something he was terribly curious about—he hadn't gotten an invitation.

The Thursday before the Sunday luncheon, I called Presvytera Vasso and asked her what this was all about. She said it was to honor the presvyteres of the area. I knew that she had been made the representative for the Tampa Bay area. I planned to take notes and pictures and maybe submit something for the Metropolis presvyteres' newsletter, and made a note to make sure I brought my camera to church on Sunday.

Sunday morning, I dropped Fr. Peter off for his usual hour before Orthros starts, and went back home to wake up a little more and have some quiet time in my glider in front of our icons to say the pre-Communion prayers. (There are often cheerful, exuberant morning people in church before Orthros starts, and my more curmudgeonly attitude doesn't quite mesh with the humility I'm aiming for in preparing to receive Christ.)

During the announcements, Fr. James reminded people that the coffee hour would be in the gym today, as there was a special function for the presvyteres in the hall. I was glad I had brought the camera. I was a little tired, so I did my usual thing and sat back down in my pew after getting the antidoron (blessed bread). When things had settled down a bit (and my feet condescended to let me use them without complaining), I went to go read the post-Communion prayers aloud for Fr. Peter. (We have a somewhat open altar on the sides, so I can be just outside while he finishes the Gifts.)

Then he did three things which were odd. He asked me to wait for him (he was going to go to the luncheon, invitation or not—as priest, one is usually just expected). I was happy enough to sit down. When he came out from having put his vestments away, he indicated that he would be willing to go through the pews and pick up the bulletins which had been left behind. (I always get in trouble for doing this, with a shocked, "Presvytera! We have a janitor for that!" ... but I always figure it's my church, my earth ... I'm the kind of person who likes to pick things up and keep them tidy ... as long as it's not actually my job or my house, that is.) So that was weird, but I was a little tired, and didn't know what to expect in terms of tiringness of the luncheon, so I said we should just go over there. There is a little walkway from the church to the hall, connecting two side doors of each, and usually we go through the sides. (It's nice to hang out with the man who has keys to just about everything, especially when your feet are tired.) But then he said, "I'm too lazy to use my keys. Let's go around to the front." I shrugged mentally, thinking that it was odd that he referred to himself as "lazy," since he is anything but.

I am not quick on the uptake.

When the church secretary opened the door from the foyer to the hall and said, "Surprise!" and a whole crowd of people in a pastel-bedecked hall were grinning madly at me, my first thought was, "What does she mean, 'Surprise'? and where are all the presvyteres?"

As I found out, in my complete and utter stupor, the entire parish, including my husband, had been in on this baby shower for a two months. People were worried that Fr. James had given away the secret they'd been trying so hard to keep with his coffee hour announcement. In a parish of more than 700 families, they couldn't believe that I really was surprised. I still am, in fact.

I am completely humbled that they went out of their ways to arrange such a lovely time to celebrate the birth of this little one who is patently so dear to us all. Whereas before the shower we had clothing for the baby consisting of a onesie and a sample newborn diaper, we are now completely equipped to clothe and diaper Bunny for months and months.

Just for the gifts and cards received at the shower, I wrote 88 thank-you notes. Usually writing thank-you notes is an onerous task, but this time I was truly overwhelmed and humbled in gratitude, and finished them in just about a 24-hour period. (This did not include the three hours of listing the presents and going through the church directory (and whitepages.com) to get addresses.) The church secretary had been kind enough to provide stationery and to ask the guests to address their own envelopes for the thank-you notes (although the latter was rather embarrassing to me, and several people didn't quite understand that they weren't supposed to enclose a gift inside or leave room for other information (like a stamp) on the envelope—but I wasn't the hostess of the party).

While I was writing the thank-you notes, I found myself being grateful to the people who had written checks, not so much for the money, but for the fact that I could read the full name and address. A few other cards have come in the mail, and another was delivered by someone who couldn't attend the luncheon on Sunday.

Today's mail has brought another card, and, what I have been waiting for all week, the "cute" stamps my mother mailed on Monday so that I could use them with the thank-you notes. Guess I'll go find out how long it takes to write another thank-you note and stamp, seal, and mail 92 of them.

I thank God for such a community to welcome our baby.

Later: I had forgotten that we'd already handed out three thank-yous (via the church office). While I was writing the first dose of thank-you notes, my lovely husband was sorting through the gifts, like arranging the clothing into different sizes. He was the one in charge of sealing, and thoroughly trounced me as I tried to catch up with the stamps. Now we have three inches' worth of notes to mail (the post office closed an hour ago, dashing my hopes of getting them out before the long weekend). It was much more fun having him to help with things than to do it all myself; that always seems to be the case.

Kolaches

2008-08-26T16:26:00.002-04:00

Hopefully, this will be the last catch-up post on this blog. (There's two in line for the baby blog, though.)

Recently, my "nesting" skills steered me toward the kitchen. So I made kolaches*. I mistakenly thought we had enough cream cheese, but we only had 8 oz., and the cream cheese filling recipe I wanted to try called for 16 oz., which wouldn't have been a problem except that it's hard to halve one egg.

*The missing ingredient in the directions is the scalded and cooled milk, which I assumed should be mixed in at the beginning.

So, since I've been craving peaches and yogurt (not together), we had lots of peaches on hand. So I found a recipe online and halved it (after looking up how many peaches were in a bushel) and made my own peach filling from scratch. I used about half of it in the kolaches, but was confident that my sweet-loving husband would take care of the extra. (I think he ended up being more delighted with the extra filling than with the kolaches themselves.)

Things I learned: Even at a low temperature and for a short time, do not bake things on the lowest rack. You cannot completely clean off burnt peach filling from your cookie sheets. Extra egg whites can easily fit into the brownies you make afterwards. (I got carried away.) Scraping off the burnt bottoms of two trays of kolaches is well worth the effort. Toasting kolaches and covering them with ice cream is reward enough to the labor (and heat) involved in making them in the first place.

And now I have cream cheese.

Of course we'll have a washing machine!

2008-08-22T11:07:00.002-04:00

(Catchy catching-up-related blurb here.)

My mother wanted to make sure she could wash her clothes at our house, to cut down on the things she was bringing to her first visit (of the three planned for this year so far), as she was bringing plenty of baby things from herself and from my older-middle sister, bringing things from her trip to Turkey and Greece, and from our house going to stay with her college friend who lives in Washington state. Oh, and then there was a hurricane headed for her house, so she also decided to take the Important Papers (titles, deeds, and whatnot—can't leave without the whatnot), just in case.

We had enjoyed our washing machine for just over a year (ominous warranty-free period should tip you off), and at the beginning of the week Tita* was supposed to arrive it stopped doing the fast spin at the end. That wasn't too bad, since it was just to get the water out, and the dryer would just have to work harder. But then the door started refusing to open. (As in, on separate occasions, I spent two 5-minute attempts, my husband a 5-minute attempt, and my mother a vain 20-minute attempt, trying different settings and persuasive tactics just to get our clothes back.)

*My father grew up in Brasil. He wanted his children to call their parents "Papa" and "Mamacita." When my older-older sister was little, she couldn't say "Mamacita," instead saying "Tita." I'm the third child, so it was already settled. Sorry if it sounds like I'm talking about my aunt, but that's just the way it is, yo.

Then my husband noticed a little ratty head peeking out from behind the washer one day. So we called the washing machine repairman, mentioning all these details. Fortunately, my mother was visiting, since we had an OB appointment during the time the repairman came. From what I understand, she got him to take off the bottom panel of the washing machine. Voila! Rats' nest! They'd chewed through the wiring that made it do the final spin. And then some other wiring, too. It would cost $100 more to repair the washing machine than we'd spent on it in the first place.

So my mother helped us buy a new washing machine (with a sanitary cycle specifically for things like diapers), *with* the Sears service agreement. (The salesman specifically said it was *not* an extended warranty, but better, since we'd also get yearly preventative check-ups.) And it's EnergyStar, which thrills my husband no end. We're still figuring out the Star Trek technology to use it ... and I've grown up enough to at least separate the whites from the coloreds. (It wasn't really an issue: all our clothes were old and washed enough that nothing would ever bleed again.) Two of the maintenance guys from church went to Sears with my husband and loaded it in their truck and basically delivered it for us, even taking away the packing material and refusing any sort of payment. (Just wait. We'll get them at Christmas. And until then with baked goods.)

But.

There was still the rat problem. In the wall behind the washer and dryer, there is a ... pipe thingy. It's definitely large enough to let a rat in ... and we knew that a rat had leapt inside it to get away from the danger of my 6'2" husband. If we simply plugged it up, who knows how many rats would die inside, though? So, again with my mother's guidance, we bought sticky traps. A few hours later: two rats in the trap between the washer and dryer. My husband had the misfortune to be the dispatcher. We found that our Chlorox spray (bathroom cleaner stuff?) is good at removing rat blood from the garage floor. (I cowered in the house. Thank goodness my mother was here.)

My mother insisted that we check for future infestation *each week* which we thought was a bit excessive. Nonetheless, I put it on the calendar for each Saturday morning. When we replaced the week-old sticky trap (which had caught a ginormous spider and a huge lizard), we again caught another rat in a few hours. Then another one the next day. When my husband went to pay the rent check, he mentioned our rat problem. We had thought that we were on the hook for "infestations," but happily found out that that was for small things, and *they* would take care of things like rats and mice. So we had Bernie come out and set snap traps (we have our sticky traps out still, but not in the prime locations). He also filled in the rat-hole/pipe with steel wool which I'd bought. (Supposedly they aren't supposed to like getting it on their feet?) Now, naturally, none of the traps have caught anything. Which is dandy with me.

So my mother had quite an adventurous few days with us. The rest of the time, when we weren't making yet another trek to Target, she sanded and painted the frame of Great-Aunt Margaret's lounge chair, reorganized the linen closet, and, most importantly, organized my overflowing boxlid of photographs into tidy albums. And ate quite a bit of the peppermint ice cream which had been purchased with her in mind.

After Tita left, I was inspired enough with the whole organizing thing to re-do the rest of the hall closet, and later the pantry. Yesterday, NESTING took over in the nursery. (I was trying to accomplish the to-do list item "sanitize baby blocks"—the ones which had been my mother's when she was little—and I ended up reorganizing things.) The drop-leaf table is now tucked perfectly into a corner in the dining room, the two-drawer chest is also in the dining room (a bit tight, but now the spacing matches the rest of the house, and we don't use the dining room all that much, anyhow). The boxes of genealogy and music found a place in our closet, and the crib is set up. We have a plan for rotating the twin bed, moving the little bookcases, taking down the six-foot table (now that there's nothing under it! *Snoopy dance*), moving the dresser, and adding Papa's platform rocker from the living room. There's actually room for Bunny! Now we should probably think about buying things like sheets and clothing and diapers.

My first Greek Monastery

2008-08-19T15:20:00.003-04:00

(Yes! It's more catching up, for your condimentary delight! ... Get it? Ketchup? Condiments? Har. Okay, enough corny parenthesis.)

Until July 29 of this year, I had only been to Romanian monasteries, including the beautiful women's monastery in Rives Junction, Michigan, and the ones we visited in Romania, of course.

So after quite a few attempts at putting it on the calendar and then having to postpone, we called ahead and were encouraged to drive up to the Annunciation of the Theotokos Greek Orthodox Monastery near Ocala, Florida.

The grounds were quite spacious, resting comfortably in the middle of horse country. (Seriously, there are nothing but horse ranches and farms as you get closer to the monastery.) Since there are only three monastics (women) living there, Orthodox parishioners who live nearby come to help out with the grounds. When we were there, a lady and her two sons and a little girl were also there. The boys were out attacking the tall grass on riding lawn mowers, and the lady and her friend's little girl helped prepare some of the iconographic materials (by doing things like shellacking).

We didn't see anyone besides the two boys who were mowing when we first arrived, so we made our way to the bookstore on our search to find people. Since we had been spotted walking (or waddling) across the courtyard, we were greeted by the abbess (as I later found out) in the bookstore. She seemed to glow and was full of life, helping us look at things in the bookstore, and pulling out icons of St. Anna from the back when I indicated I was interested, even talking avidly about the state of the Church today.

We had lunch with the lady and little girl (one of the boys coming in later) in the guests' dining room. The nuns ate separately, but one kept coming in to make sure we had all we wanted. Boy, did we! There was fish, the most bestest pasta I've ever had, salad, bread, and feta ... and then brownies. Poor Fr. Peter suffered through his favorite summer treat: watermelon. We helped clear and clean, then went back to the bookstore to purchase things before vespers. We bought an icon of St. Anna, some charcoal, a box of wicks with wickholders (the lamp on the altar at Holy Trinity wasn't staying lit), and the book From I-ville to You-ville. We also bought a little pin of the Panagia, like the little pins which Orthodox parents affix to the clothing of their little babies so that they can have something like a cross, but without the danger of having something around the neck. I pinned it over my belly and the abbess laughed. Evidently this was new to her, but I couldn't wait to have something from the Church just for Bunny.

We had a nice little vespers, all in Greek, with quite a bit of consternation: Fr. Peter hadn't done weekday vespers with certain rubrics since seminary (where they evidently did things differently), and the sisters were used to doing readers' services (omitting the petitions and other parts which a priest does), but it all was smoothed out. After that, we left a donation in the box outside and drove home (about a two-hour drive) while I read the book. I am looking forward to taking Bunny when he can see and be seen, but I wanted to have a connection with monastic life sooner rather than later.

Maybe Bunny likes me writing about this, as I'm getting pushed around in various different ways as I write this. Sheesh! What's he up to, anyhow?

Nursery Update

2008-08-18T15:32:00.002-04:00

When we moved into this house, we picked our "master bedroom" because it was close to the bathroom with a bathtub. The other two rooms were the guest room and the nursery. Then the nursery was no longer needed, so we renamed them the green room and the pink room (based on the sheets we had for the double bed and the twin bed). The pink room was pretty much the junk room, and I felt I had achieved a great deal because all the junk of the house (excepting the boxes of china and other boxed inheritance thingies, tucked into closets, wardrobes, and corners) was contained in one room.

Then we needed a nursery again. In the junk room. So I plowed through. (When o-o sis came to visit, she helped quite a bit.) Fr. Peter refinished a wardrobe (which still needs a bit of work: there are no panels in the doors so you can see everything inside, and the doors don't stay closed unless tied shut), and I put all the office supplies in there to clear off the six-foot table so I could continue sorting things. I organized the books in the whole house, keeping the children's books in this room. I got all the paper files into the filing cabinets. I sorted through inheritances. (Why I felt the need to keep Grandma's unfinished knitting projects with and without instructions, I have no idea. But they are on hand in case of a knitting emergency. And in case I figure out how to knit more than a rectangle, assuming I remember that much.) And I sorted through the music boxes. And I shoved genealogical materials into filing cabinets ... and left the rest in boxes. And I sorted through my art supplies. And I sorted out photos, memorabilia, puzzles, baby things, and miscellany. (Pink bunny ears are rather difficult to categorize.)

Now I am down to two boxes of miscellany, about six boxes of music, several of genealogy, some extra photos (not yet in albums), puzzles, memorabilia, and baby things. There's an extra trunk-like thing with VHS tapes (we gave away our VCR before moving here) and audio tapes. There's a drop-leaf table. The bed is covered with a car seat, the box of knitting and other fabric things from Grandma, and empty boxes (in case I need them for sorting, I don't want them *all* broken down). The six-foot table is still up, holding the puzzles, stamp covers (I mean packages covered in stamps ... I used to keep them for my father and I can't quite bear to throw them out.), photos, baby things, and my "to file" pile; the table is covering the boxes of music and genealogy materials which won't fit into the closet. Other than that, there's a baby dresser blocking access to the two little bookshelves (and somewhat to the wardrobe), and there's no room to put up the crib until we can figure out where the drop-leaf table and the trunk-like thing can go.

As you may have guessed, I am much more enamored of talking about it and making lists about it rather than moving things out of the way. I'm pretty sure that the trunk-like thing will find a home in the living room, and the drop-leaf table in the guest bedroom. If I am exceptionally clever in cleaning out our own bedroom closet, there may be room for boxes in there, so we can take down the six-foot table (alas for such a lovely workspace) and have room for the crib, the dresser, and even some play space on the floor. Nevermind that I also want to bring in the two little cabinety things from the guest room. I guess I'll just hang around and wait for more of that "nesting" energy to come my way.

Sisterly visitation

2008-08-16T22:27:00.004-04:00

(Catching up is hard to do-ooh...)

My older-older sister visited during the first full week of July, driving down from Augusta, Georgia. Since I have two older sisters, to differentiate, the older of the two (who is also older than I) has hereby been designated as "older-older." In case you care.

I didn't realize that she came primarily to WORK. (This is usually the case in my family, but I'm more often the one pressed into labor. "Oh, you're here. You can start with the fridge and then there's some laundry ...") So o-o sis carted nursery furniture* from a parishioner's house in her giant beast of a car (not quite an SUV, but it made it with everything in just two trips). And she attacked the weeds in the car.** And I can find things in our hall closet. (Dang, we have a lot of light bulbs.) She inspired me to keep going on things around the house, too, after she'd gone, so the paperwork in the nursery is all in the filing cabinet (or in a pile of things "to be filed" which I am getting to, five items at a time), and the miscellany has been reduced to two smallish boxes. (I mean, really, how do you categorize pink bunny ears, old marching drill charts, and commemorative pins from the Atlanta Olympics which I visited with Papa?)

*It's a full suite of nursery furniture. White. Matching. All because their little girl got her "big girl" furniture. These people will be on our prayer list for years to come. The glider and nursing stool are set up right under the fan in front of the prayer corner, and Bunny just loves rocking throughout our home Parakleses.

**Update: My husband pointed out that she removed no weeds from the car, and did not use the car to attack the weeds in the yard. When do I get my brain back, did they say?

All in all, o-o sis and I had a much better visit than I had expected. Except that she liked buying me things. Edible things. I *kinda* went over my calories-per-day quite a bit. I did stabilize after she'd gone, though, being careful to not try to *lose* weight at this point. (I mean, there's Blue Bell in the house, so that would just be silly.)

Clergy Family Retreat 2008

2008-08-13T11:31:00.003-04:00

(Another catch-up post.)

During the third week of June, we participated in the second annual Clergy Family Retreat of the Metropolis of Atlanta, held at the beautiful Diakonia Center in South Carolina.

We were so blessed to partake of the calming atmosphere and the indescribably wonderful company. I enjoyed meeting new clergy families and seeing friends once again. We were also blessed to have avoided several episodes which befell others: a broken leg, a bitten hand, and drastic sunburn.

I still can't believe I made it all the way on the three-mile hike to (and back from) the falls, as pregnant as I was and with all those fallen trees on the path (to climb under and over!). I loved going all together for ice cream (though I didn't care for the miniature golf). I liked going in the canoe, especially since I didn't fall out, and the little snake head was a comfortable distance away, and I missed seeing the turtle. I liked swimming in the lake, too, and I still don't know which of us was more startled: me, or the water spider who crawled over my arm and then took of, Jesus-walking on top of the water. (Hey, it's an Orthodox retreat center.)

I liked sitting and talking (and especially listening) as we waited, watching the lake and the children playing nearby, smelling the delicious smells from the kitchen. I liked the lazy afternoons with arts and crafts, listening to my husband and another priest talk about people and parishes, passing along ways to serve the Church and the people of Christ with love.

I loved seeing little Theodosios, the youngest visible participant (almost a year old) and looking forward to next year with our own little Bunny.

The fancy dinner wasn't quite my cup of tea, but I had a marvellous PK assistant who made a pizza just for me as well as making me hot chocolate (properly, with milk), just out of his own goodness. I had fun singing with my husband and Presvytera Mari some of the songs from our "Deacon's Singers" days. Hopefully, we'll be more organized next year and get Fr. Grigorios involved as a bass to have all four parts.

One of my favorite parts was having daily services in the tiny little chapel with its icons inside and open windows to the outside, all shining forth and visibly singing God's beauty in His creation.

I think it's funny that I keep looking forward to next year's Clergy Family Retreat almost more than giving birth to the baby at this point.

VBS 2008

2008-08-09T09:56:00.002-04:00

(Trying to get caught up on some blogging about summer events...)

Holy Trinity had its Vacation Bible School in the second week of June, and I volunteered and was drafted to be in charge of the music and dance segments. I hadn't realized what earworms those songs could be. (We used one of those VBS kits, so it came with cds and a dvd for the dance moves.) I learned that some of the bigger kids like to do their own dance routines (and the GOYA helpers helped them with some choreography), that John Rosemond's philosophy actually works, and that pre-K has not caught onto the "Duck, Duck, Goose" idea just yet. I mean, they get the whole walking around and patting heads while saying, "Duck, duck ..." but when they're selected, most of them just sit there. Or when they are motivated into actually running, they just keep going, or if they are encouraged to sit down, they go right back to "their" spot instead of the spot of whoever picked them. Very amusing for the coordinator people. I didn't feel like I did very much (being in charge of the remote and mustering a cheerful aspect for reviewing the "dance moves"), but most everyone seemed to have a good time.

Prayer request and miscellany

2008-06-06T11:29:00.003-04:00

Please pray for the repose of my cousin David, who passed away yesterday.

It seems strange to write about completely unrelated things after that. My sister called me about David while I was getting ready to go to volunteer at a food pantry with the GOYA. At the food pantry, I was separated from the youth and put to "work" giving out baby food. (In two hours, only three people came by, and one lady and her baby were there the whole time, so I talked to her and played with the baby for two hours. Not really what I'd call "work.")

On Wednesday night, the gym was in use for something else, so basketball was canceled. Fr. Peter was able to move his marriage preparation class to the afternoon, so we had the whole evening free. I made a list of activities for him to consider for the evening, from "yard work" to "eat out" to "go buy a surprise." He rated them in the order of interest, and we had a really neat evening, getting him the DVD of The Aristocats (one of his absolutely favorite movies; unfortunately, he's an excellent guesser/mind-reader, so it wasn't really a surprise), going out to eat at Olive Garden (gift cards are pretty nice!), and going for another swim at the Long Center.*

*We've brokered a deal: he helps out in the yard on Tuesday (his day off), and I go to the gym and pool with him twice a week. So far, it's been okay, although I am biased against the pool because I'm really bad at swimming and because it's hard to read in the pool (especially compared to the treadmill). Since I've had ear problems all my life (and now have a very slightly perforated eardrum) and hate ear plugs, I have been opting to keep my head out of the water. So, feeling like a (very round) idiot, my options are walking in the pool, dog-paddling, and using a kick-board (and a combination of the first two). I further feel idiotic by being happy that I can almost dog-paddle the whole way across the pool and I am no longer taking 5-minute breaks between each leg. Meanwhile, a few lanes over, my husband is working on his strokes, currently trying to improve his (lamentable, according to him) twice-as-slow-as-the-world-record time, and being recruited for the adults' competition team by the lifeguards. I hope Bunny** enjoys my efforts, anyhow.

**"Bunny" for "bun in the oven." It's nicer to have a pet name than just continually saying "the baby," and I'm not ready to do as some friends who went with alternating names from the characters of The Cosby Show each month.

My husband is pretty much done with the new version of the website for the Metropolis of Atlanta, so it should be transferred to that link soon. I've been having fun (and not, depending) helping him fix things and transfer things from the old site.

Next week, our church will have the ominous (is that just to me?) "Vacation Bible School." I had originally said I'd do arts and crafts, but I was somehow moved to music, so I'm half-heartedly trying to learn the songs and *cough* choreography of these generic Christian things so I can teach them. Right now I am taking a break with Veruca Salt and Björk. I kinda wish I could teach the kids Orthodox hymns, or even things from a modern Orthodox tradition, like the music from the Panagia With Us All cd we have. Prayers requested.

Oh, yeah ... minions

2008-05-22T20:09:00.004-04:00

So I can't blog any more, because pregnancy hormones, old age, aliens stealing my brain, and metal fatigue have caused me to completely not remember any reason for blogging when I sit down to do it. And then I'm hungry. And then I have to go to the bathroom. And then I have to go lie down and rest.

So I asked my husband what I was going to blog about. (I don't know why, but he's good at that sort of thing quite often.) His response: "Minions!"

Which reminded me that I get "youth minions" to help me out when I'm doing the music and dance portion of Vacation Bible School. I am hoping to replace some of the cheesier songs with a few from Fr. Christodoulos' cd (they're niftier and they're specifically Orthodox, and much less "Jesus is my boyfriend" vibe-y).

In other news, I cleaned the whole bathroom in one go after feebly attempting this feat for over a month. Go me! (Unfortunately we have two bathrooms, and the other one is simply withering the buildup of dust!)

Holy Friday 2008

2008-04-28T18:52:00.001-04:00

On Holy Friday, Dr. Tim and I helped with the teenagers' retreat. (Fr. Peter was at the retreat for the younger children.) I managed to get through my presentation of St. Kassiane pretty well, even including the difficult three-page hymn (that's a short version—long ones can run to 14 pages). My favorite presentation of all the "Personalities of Holy Week" was Dr. Tim's penultimate, personable portrayal of Jesus. (Sorry for the unintended alliteration.)

"Jesus" started by thanking all his friends and saying it was great that they said so many nice things about him. Then he asked people to stand up (meaning the youth, but all the adults participated, too), pair up, and ask one another's forgiveness, the response to which was "May God forgive us both." After this exercise, he started talking about himself, how he was there with God the Father at the beginning of the world, being present at Creation. He spoke fondly of being friends with Adam, and how they would talk together in the evenings—because he, God, had to work during the day. He talked about how he created Eve from Adam's rib—then switched immediately to his earthly ministry as Jesus Christ. He said he kept asking where his friend Adam was, and was horrified to hear that he had died. "Death? What is that?" He explained death as the spirit, the breath God had put into Adam, leaving the body. "The breath that I put there!? I did not create death. I created life!" Then he asked the people where Adam's body was, and heard them say it was under the ground. He paced agitatedly across the floor. "My friend Adam—dead. His body under the earth—I've got to go get him!" He called out the Pharisees and Scribes, excoriating them for using their authority and knowledge of the Law to separate God from His people instead of working to draw them together. Then he enacted his crucifixion, asking God the Father to forgive the people, and calling out to Adam that he was coming.

I'm afraid I don't do Dr. Tim's presentation justice—I was moved to tears, because this is so truly what the Orthodox Church teaches about the Resurrection, which one can see on the festal icon: Christ, like a super hero, his garments flowing and white, stands above the broken bonds of Hell—its gates, keys, and locks—His hands grasp the wrists of Adam and Even who are being pulled from their tombs as the crowds look on: haloed Old Testament Patriarchs on Christ's right and those not marked by haloes on His left.

Not blogging

2008-04-17T13:45:00.002-04:00

I used to blog a whole lot (before this blog, even). However, once I became the wife of a clergyman, I felt rather ... exposed. Even if nobody else expected "more" of me, I expected more of me as a presvytera. So I ended up thinking more and blogging less. On the one hand, I miss blogging about every silly thing, but on the other hand, I realized today that I was following the "speak less" idea of the Fathers. Or, in terms of Fr. Thomas Hopko's "Forty Maxims," I'd tried the following:

5. Practice silence, inner and outer.
At least a sort of blogging silence.
17. Never bring unnecessary attention to yourself.
I feel so conspicuous when I blog as a presvytera, which I do whenever I blog. And that's not necessarily a bad thing, since it calls to mind my responsibility to provide a Christian example at all times (still working on that). However, I worry that people will take me too seriously as a presvytera, and not realize that I'm just a normal messed-up person, struggling just the same as they are. (And giving up, and feeling awful about it, and hating to go to confession, too.)
24. Don't complain, grumble, murmur or whine.
I'm still working on this in real life (my poor husband), but I can't complain about anything that happens at church, or anyone I know from there. (Not that there's much in the first place, but that feeling of restraint is definitely there.) Again, I have to think about what kind of example I set, not only for people who read my blog, but what precedent do I set for myself?
25. Don't seek or expect pity or praise.
29. Don't defend or justify yourself.
Oh, the main reason I blog. Attention! So other people will think I'm clever. (I'm usually only funny when I don't mean to be, or if you haven't heard me tell the same dumb joke over a million times.) So people will like me. Any other reasons for wanting attention, even though I'm not worthy of it. Maybe so that I will like me better, even though the only way for people to like me (including myself liking me) is to become a better person.

So I've been trying to change the way I blog. Without getting too high-theology religious (no offense to the seminarian bloggers out there...), and without losing the funny parts of my life, I want to blog about things which happen in such a way that I learn from them, that I become better because of them.

Especially now that I'm getting another kind of hat to wear, with its awesome responsibilities. I am terrified that I will not live up to the expectations I have of motherhood. (It doesn't really help that my mother has four college degrees, and had two jobs when I was growing up, and is more like the Energizer Bunny than a human being (at least, like lazy ol' me) when it comes to getting housework done—or work of any kind, really.)

Pray for me, a sinner.

Marital Conflict

2008-04-01T11:18:00.001-04:00

I still contend that Byzantine chant is not a good vehicle for Shel Silverstein.

Sermon Reaction

2008-03-28T21:14:00.004-04:00

In the chapel, the second graders sit in the front pew near the chant stand, so I usually sit there during the sermon. When Fr. Peter gave his sermon this past Sunday, he commented on how we struggle through Great Lent. He asked, "You know how slowly Great Lent goes by?" and I was able to clearly hear the heart-felt, half-sighed "Yeah!" from the front row.

Oh, yeah... I have a blog.

2008-03-24T15:30:00.006-04:00

Well, I feel like I've been called out, thanks to Fr. Athanasios.

So I could maybe link to my other blog, the current subject of which is due in September, God willing.

Recently, I've been doing the pregnancy thing. I'm not sure why it's called "morning sickness," since the medical term seems to be the Latin for "vomiting of pregnancy" (charming, eh?). In any case, I seem to be sticking with my father's joke: "Well, it's morning somewhere." Consequently, I have not been doing much of anything. I have only just started to feel better ... except that whenever I *do* start to feel better, the rest of the day goes downhill and my husband has his moaning wife back again.

My birthday was this past Friday. My husband had already gotten me the totally awesome present of the first two Monkey Island games, and baked the usual Lenten-chocolate-cake-and-icing-from-scratch which looks lumpy but tastes wonderful (well, it's chocolate). My mother, with true insight, got me a duct tape wallet kit. Fr. James gave me my husband for the entire afternoon, which we spent watching basketball on television (and computer). I treated myself to attending the Akathist hymn at church in the evening.

Hopefully, my husband will post a version of his sermon from yesterday on his blog. Meanwhile, I will take another moaning break with some ginger ale. I mean, get back to cleaning the house. (How did we get so much stuff packed into what's going to be the baby's room anyhow?)

Happy New Year!; or: Bishops and Bishops and Bishops, oh my!

2008-01-07T22:13:00.001-05:00

Well, they sure weren't kidding when they said that this was the busiest time of the year.

Almost all the Greek Orthodox parishes in the Tampa Bay area had feast days. Let's see...
St. Sophia - Winter Haven, September 16 for vespers;
St. Michael - Tarpon Springs (shrine/chapel), November 7 for vespers, November 8 for Liturgy;
Thanksgiving trips to visit mothers;
JOY Advent sleepover, November 30 and December 1;
Preparing (on Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays) for Christmas program held on December 16;
St. Barbara - Sarasota (Fr. Peter went to these alone), December 3 for vespers, December 4 for Liturgy;
St. Nicholas - Tarpon Springs, December 5 for vespers, December 6 for Liturgy;
Started to go to doctors (back pain, dentist, regular kinds of things we'd been putting off - this is what I'd asked for for Christmas);
December 23, 24, 25 - 3 Liturgies in a row;
St. Stefanos - St. Petersburg, December 26 for vespers, December 27 for Liturgy;
Christmas parties (don't even remember how many) and New Year's Dinner Dance;
Archbishop Luncheon, January 5;
Theophany - early Liturgy at Holy Trinity, then up to Tarpon for hierarchness, January 6 (pictures here);
St. John the Baptist - Tampa, January 6 for vespers, January 7 for Liturgy.

Meanwhile, I've managed to get four boxes out of the house: a microwave and two boxes of clothing to the Salvation Army, and a box of ugly china to replacements.com which may or may not give me some money to cover the shipping but hopefully won't send anything back. I was pleased to get two outfits at the Salvation Army, one of which I made use of at the Archbishop Luncheon the next day.

Today in Tampa was long, but nice. In the luncheon after Liturgy, Archbishop Demetrios thanked the chanters and then went and singled me out as the singing presvytera. Afterwards he said he'd asked who I was and didn't believe people when they said "a presvytera"; he thought I must be the daughter of a presvytera, I looked so young. Maybe if I get some grease paint for wrinkles, I won't be mistaken for a GOYAN* as often. Yes, I know, if that's the worst I have to complain about ...

*GOYA stands for Greek Orthodox Youth Association, whose members are often referred to as "GOYANs." Thanks to Lissa for letting me know I was using terms she wasn't familiar with. (It all makes more sense in my head, I promise!)

Oh. And those newsletters that go out with the Christmas cards? We finished the newsletters but haven't actually sent them out yet. I am surprised at the amount of things I managed to accomplish, like typing up and submitting the presvyteres meeting notes to our Metropolis president (who's such a darling!), getting those boxes out of the house, clearing up the guest room for Niko (he's really funny: part 1 and part 2) for his visit next weekend to help with the GOYA retreat, and learn more about the squiggles Byzantine notation. I didn't spend as much time on the wiki as I would have liked, but I did manage to put up some brief articles and a picture of some of the bishops I came across over the past weekend.

As His Eminence Demetrios said at the end of his speech this morning (to the best of my and my husband's combined memory), "I didn't mean to say all these things, but with such good listeners, you're almost dangerous."

JOY at Vespers and Orthros

2007-12-17T14:33:00.000-05:00

Somewhat recently, Fr. Peter and I were fortunate to participate in a Friday night JOY lock-in. Except I made us go home and sleep in a real bed, as this was soon after the GOYA retreat and trips to Romania and Texas.* We did come back early enough on Saturday morning to make (on his part) and eat (on our parts) chocolate-chip pancakes, which were a pretty big hit. I know that I'm used to my personal priest-cum-chef making me pancakes upon request, but I don't think the small fry had glimpsed such wonders, so I volunteered him. (And then volunteered him to make me my own batch the next day. He's really good with the Bisquick, yo.)

As part of the retreat, we had Vespers on Friday night, a rather informal affair as far as I was concerned. (Not counting us, two adults versus twenty-some kids equals "informal.") Our parish doesn't have Vespers as a matter of course, so while they were leaping along the hallways to the chapel, they were telling me how strange it was for them to be going to church "at night" and "in the dark." In the chapel, when it was time for the reading of the psalm, I invited to the chant stand "anyone who wanted to help read." I saw lots of hands up (they're pretty well trained with that), so I—rashly, as it turned out—said that whoever was interested should come up. I quickly noticed that I was up against the wall in a waist-high sea of children. I looked up and saw that only the two adults were still in the pews. I started one little girl reading, then stopped her after she'd read a good bit, and put another child up. I had faces turned to me like sunflowers, hungry, begging to participate, and it was difficult not to cry with the beauty of it. When we only had a little bit of the psalm to go, I had everyone read with me all together.

Except for the longer pieces, like the psalms, we had typed out the Vespers and Orthros services so that the children could follow along. They had to be coached through some of the parts, with big prompts of, "All together now," and I have the feeling that this was an introduction to things like the Trisagion prayers, although we did get a big boost at the familiar Our Father.

For the Saturday Orthros, we decided that of the six psalms read at the beginning, we'd do three instead of the one we had originally planned for. Most of the children had gone home the night before, but I still was scrambling: "You can read the epistle." "You can read the synaxarion." "You can read this psalm which comes later." Everyone wanted to read.

I don't know how to communicate this hunger. I do know that once they get to junior or senior high, they might not be as interested in participating. They don't know that there are so many interesting questions and answers, such beauty, such peace, such strength to draw on when the mean kids pick on you, or you drop your science project in mud, or you're just not understood by the rest of the world in your prickly adolescence. Fr. James was a bit skeptical about children this age (8 to 12, I think) being involved in Vespers and Orthros, saying that it would be too long for them. Well, if I'm not involved in a service, it gets boring quickly for me, too, especially in a language I don't understand.

Do their parents know how hungry their children are? I remember the shock on the children's faces: "We can read?" Yes, loves, you are forever and always welcome to the chant stand so long as I am there. I will always make room, I will always hold the book so you can see, I will always help you pronounce the tricky words. I want to relearn from you that hunger, I want to learn from you to keep going through a psalm with stumbling-blocks like "iniquity" and "leviathan," I want to learn from you that sense of fellow-ship and of going forward together with my brothers and sisters in Christ.

*Please keep mothers in your prayers: my nouna's mother recently passed away; my mother recently had surgery to remove a melanoma and a sentinel lymph node (she's up-and-at-'em again, but will have two cataract surgeries within the next two months); Fr. Peter's mother is struggling against metastasized cancer.

Flossing to the Beat

2007-11-09T14:01:00.000-05:00

I recently started using the "alarm" function of my cell phone, to help me get to bed on time as well as to wake up. I set it to one of the ringtones which isn't too annoying, but doesn't make me think that the phone is ringing. Last night as we were getting ready to go to sleep, my husband started dancing when the alarm went off, so I kept snoozing it so he'd have more "music."

He complained after a while: "It's kinda hard to floss and keep on the beat."

Saturday, October 6

2007-10-10T19:30:00.000-04:00

Catching up at last on the Smart Habits Saturday.

*Wake up 7:30 - Averaged 8:29 (7:14 to 9:43)
The usual, continuing to weigh in the morning.
*Shower under 5 min - Averaged 4 and a half minutes again.
*Computer off 8:30 - Averaged 9:14 (with two days of not turning it on at all, averaged in at zero)
*Bed 9:30 - Averaged 10:30 (9:37 to 11:12)
*Lights out 10 - Averaged 10:52 (10:13 to 11:21)
121/145=83%; times: two hours, 51 minutes late (excluding the computer)

No movement on the weight-loss front, but the ancient exercise bike may arrive as early as this week, which should speed things along a little better.

I am really enjoying starting my day with the 2007 Daily Lives, Miracles, and Wisdom of the Saints and Fasting Calendar. I have that and my Bible (the beaten-up one from high school) in the bathroom, so as I'm dredging myself out of sleep, I can read about the saints of the day, a quotation from a Church father, and read the Scripture for the day. After that, throughout the day I read a little at a time in the Old Testament, in my goal of reading the Bible through for the first time. I have about a dozen bookmarks in this Bible from previous attempts and haven't caught up to the first bookmark yet.

I realized as I was reading through the description of the Ark of the Covenant in Exodus that it reminds me of the kouvouklion—rats. No orthodoxwiki article yet. Ah, well, I did my best in my Lego rendition, so that'll have to suffice for the nonce. Exodus 25:26-27: "You shall also make four rings of gold for it and fasten them at the four corners, one at each leg, on two opposite sides of the frame as holders for the poles to carry the table."

I think also that the daily reading and prayer is helping me notice other things. For instance, in the prayers of preparation for Holy Communion, it says, "As Thou didst deign to lie in a cavern, in a manger of dumb beasts, so now deign to enter in to the manger of my beastly soul, and into my soiled body." I try to say the prayers each Sunday, and to partake each Sunday, and it's really a struggle to pay attention to the prayers, but I was focused on this segment especially this past Sunday, and realized that this prayer (by St. John Chrysostom) wasn't focusing on the stable or the cave, but on the manger: the place where the animals ate. And this image was in the prayers to prepare me to consume Him, Who from the very first (okay, not the very first, although He was there, but the very first incarnately) was representing Himself as food. And there were shepherds there, suggesting sheep. Peter, feed My sheep. It really doesn't seem at first that this little part of the prayer talks about Christ as food, but it somehow struck me that that's what it refers to. (Not that that might be all it refers to, but still.)

Oh! I had forgotten my other interesting thing. I'm used to hearing Jesus described as "the Paschal Lamb" that I hadn't really thought about it. Okay, so He's the "sacrificial lamb" at "Pascha" which comes from "Passover," but I hadn't thought about the actual sacrificial lamb at the Passover, nor the tradition of roasting a whole lamb at Pascha. From Exodus 12:1 "Tell the whole community of Israel: On the tenth of this month every one of your families must procure for itself a lamb, one apiece for each household. ... The lamb must be a year-old male and without blemish. ... You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month, and then, with the whole assembly of Israel present, it shall be slaughtered during the evening twilight. They shall take some of its blood and apply it to the two doorposts and the lintel of every house in which they partake of the lamb. That same night they shall eat its roasted flesh with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. It shall not be eaten raw or boiled, but roasted whole..." When Fr. J.J. came to St. Bernadette's Catholic Church, he gave a memorable sermon, illustrating how Christ was the gate for the sheep by actually lying down to show that's how the shepherds guarded the sheep: they were sleeping on the ground as part of the fence so that the sheep would be safe. In reading the passage from Exodus, I kept thinking about how Christ was the gate: "take some of its blood and apply it to the two doorposts and the lintel of every house."

As I'm writing this, I am recalled to the pre-communion prayers again, to earlier in the same prayer: "I know that I am not worthy nor sufficiently pleasing that Thou shouldst come under the roof of the house of my soul for it is entirely desolate and fallen in ruin..." Again, we are the house and He marks us as the Lamb with His Blood so that we may be spared. I think I will stop now, as I am getting goosebumps.

Saturday, September 29

2007-10-08T16:39:00.000-04:00

So I'm a little behind for the Smart Habits Saturday... No complaints, no guilt.

*Wake up 7:30 - Averaged 9:03 (7:40 to 10:47)
The usual, starting to weigh in the morning.
*Shower under 5 min - Averaged 4 and a half minutes!
*Computer off 8:30 - Averaged 8:28 (with three days of not turning it on at all, averaged in at zero)
*Bed 9:30 - Averaged 10:24 (9:41 to 11:37)
*Lights out 10 - Averaged 10:56 (10:05 to 12:01)
120/151=79%; times: three hours, 39 minutes late (now excluding the computer)

In the summer of 2006, I went from 162 to 132 pounds. Now I'm back up to 140, and looking to lose another ten, despite the proximity to Blue Bell ice cream. We'll see.

Saturday, September 22

2007-09-24T20:03:00.000-04:00

Smart Habits Saturday:

*Wake up 7:30 - Averaged 8:59 (7:36 to 10:00)
The usual, adding a 15-minute chant practice.
*Shower under 5 min - Averaged 7 and a half minutes again
*Computer off 8:30 - Averaged 7:38 (5:38 to 10:29, with one day of not turning it on at all, averaged in at zero)
*Bed 9:30 - Averaged 10:06 (9:32 to 11:33)
*Lights out 10 - Averaged 11:03 (10:09 to 11:44)
130/149=87%; times: three hours, 39 minutes late (now excluding the computer)

I have been really struggling this past weekend, especially with the rule about not turning on the computer until I have finished the tasks for the day up to lunch.

Also, with the main to-do task being "unpack," the rest of the to-do list gets a little shunted aside. I am thinking about adding a "project" 15 minutes.

In any case, I got quite a bit done today, moving things from one room into another. I think I can qualify as "moved in" now. Although there are still plenty of boxes to sort through, in my life there have *always* been plenty of boxes to sort through. In this case, I have them organized by papers, music*, and stuff. (The books are on the bookcases; one box I thought was music was actually mystery novels. Nevermind that it was correctly labelled.) Then, not necessarily in boxes, but still to be organized in my Grand Scheme of Things, are clothing, books, kitchen things, artwork and art supplies, computer paraphernalia, yardwork, and icons. I am, of course, looking forward more to culling, categorizing, and organizing the books than anything else. The kitchen things will have to wait until the bookcases come from Denver, as our kitchen storage options are currently limited. Hopefully, there will be room also for the books from Denver (Eleven boxes. I couldn't help myself, so I helped myself.), board games (our collection also being added to), folding tables and chairs (likewise from Denver), and office supplies.

*Nine boxes of it, as I can't bear to throw out sheet music and have been playing instruments myself for over 16 years now, which doesn't bear in mind that my father was also collecting on my behalf as well as his own (came across a guitar book which is identical to the one he gave me), as well as the music I had inherited from my mother's and great-grandmother's musical days. I will have to get a move on the latter, as a cousin has requested particular things and I have no idea what I have except that it is old and most definitely quaint.

My husband seems to like the current setup in the pink room** (move-to), whereas I was concerned about the mess in the office (move-from). The six-foot table covered quite a few boxes of ... stuff I really have no idea what to do with. Fortunately I realized I had never actually told my husband that I wanted him to sort through all the computer things, so that stuff will reduce in quantity.

**The two guest rooms are now named for the color of their sheets: green and pink. It was a little odd saying "the guest room" and "the other guest room which was to have been the baby's room but there's not going to be a baby now and my isn't this awkward." But now the pinkness of the sheets has been covered by the green thing (an ancient, decrepit foam futon for which my mother seems to have a fondness and therefore must take with her at the earliest available opportunity), which in turn is piled upon by... um... boxes strategically placed for sorting. (Yes, they're full of Stuff.)

Since we have recently made a trip to the library, I am finding it easy to take breaks between getting things done to read a chapter at a time. That way, I have something to look forward to (Terry Pratchett) when performing a disagreeable task.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention that I am enrolled in Greek school. I have come quite a long way in pronuncimanating modern Greek. I have tried not to show off, but I've been around Greek for about five years now, so I do have a few skills. Such as pronouncing and typing. I can even find certain typographical errors, and in ancient/liturgical Greek. However, my conversational Greek is limited to "Please," "Thank you," "You're welcome," "I'm sorry," "How are you?" "Good," "Good day/evening/night," and, in a desperate conversational gambit, most of the Trisagion prayers. (The Our Father is an excellent thing to learn on long car trips, though I am still working on it in Romanian with all its tricky vowels.) Hopefully tomorrow I will remember to count my sit-ups (nasty things) in Greek. Hmm. Except I only have the numbers one through ten... No, I guess I can't get away with halving that part of my exercise routine.

Saturday, September 15

2007-09-15T15:56:00.000-04:00

It's time for another Smart Habits Saturday.

*Wake up 7:30 - Averaged 8:23 (7:35 to 9:28)
*Prayer and Scripture - 7/7
*Make bed - 7/7
*Get dressed - 7/7
*Eyes/teeth/face - 6/7
*Hair and make-up - 7/7
*Vitamin - 7/7
*Laundry check - 7/7
*Flower check - 7/7
*Eat breakfast - 4/4
*Exercise - 7/7
*15 min to-do - 6/7
*15 min declutter - 7/7
*15 min zone - 6/7
*15 min to-do - 7/7
*Eat lunch - 7/7
*Eat snack - 6/6
*Prepare dinner - 5/7
*Dishes check - 7/7
*Lay out clothes - 7/7
*Eyes/teeth/face - 7/7
*Prayer - 7/7
*Shower under 5 min - Averaged 7 and a half minutes
*Computer off 8:30 - Averaged 7:57 (3:28 to 10:20, with one day of not turning it on at all, averaged in at zero)
*Bed 9:30 - Averaged 10:12 (9:24 to 11:46)
*Lights out 10 - Averaged 10:51 (10:14 to 11:51)
138/143=97%; times: one hour, 53 minutes late (now including turning the computer off).

I've had quite a few disruptions in my schedule this week, but managed to struggle through to have four "perfect-score" days, and only one day on which I didn't allow myself to turn on my computer. I am still working on the best order for the morning, and will flip things around some more this coming week. I am also going to add working on Byzantine chant for 15 minutes a day, but put that after my computer time has been earned for the day.

In other news, I have received a standing invitation to join the regular chanter at the chant stand. I have also discovered that there is nothing more frightening than a kindly priest offering to let you sing the next hymn. Also, handwritten Greek. (Note to self: get information on the adult Greek school class already!) I had fun on Friday's feast of the Elevation of the Holy Cross, especially since I knew the festal hymn (being the "fight song" of the seminary, and therefore sung often enough, though I don't know it in English, as there are too many translations floating around and I haven't actually sat down and learned one). So for this coming Sunday, I pestered my husband into hunting down the music for the two hymns for which he could find music for the small entrance (these are variable hymns). Then I further pestered hymn by wrestling with them. It is frustrating to learn new things, when I want to hurry up and already *know* them. Then I pestered him by singing them over and over, making sure I could get into each of the different tones. (I was quite elated by my success until I tried to learn a tiny new hymn this afternoon and it was just as hard as the others were at the beginning.)

I am enjoying myself on goodreads, and have added the requisite 50 books and applied for librarianship status. The latter, mostly so that I can add my ancient "Little Colonel" books to the modern editions. It's rather a challenge to only add the books I have just read (and not go back and add everything I've read, which itself would be quite a daunting task, though tempting). Another challenge is to make myself write at least the briefest review. I always hated writing book reports in school, but practicing writing about what I've read seems wholesome, like celery (eating which is likewise not a favorite).

My dear husband has found the time to complete and move in the bookcases which we bought just over a week ago. One is still empty, waiting for me to open the boxes in the closet and the half-empty (or at least opened and searched-through) boxes in the little guestroom. It's rather important that that room get cleared quickly, so that new boxes may be thrust in to the closet when they come, and all the things currently lurking in the office may be thence relegated to make room for, alas, the furniture when it comes. The coming is likely to be in October.

Please pray for my mother who had toe surgery yesterday and is now wheeling herself around the house. She says she is doing disgustingly well, but who couldn't use extra prayers? No, we're not going to talk about the Notre Dame football team. Evidently they decided not to play this week.

Saturday, September 8

2007-09-08T18:05:00.000-04:00

I asked Fr. Peter what we should give the Theotokos for her birthday, and he said we should give her a good Liturgy, so we did. For whatever reason, it was more difficult today than usual. I still need to work on the waking up end of things. In any case, it's time for another Smart Habits Saturday!

*Wake up 7:30 - Averaged 8:39 (7:49 to 9:41)
*Prayer and Scripture - 7/7
*Make bed - 7/7
*Get dressed - 7/7
*Eyes/teeth/face - 7/7
*Hair and make-up - 7/7
*Vitamin - 6/7
*Laundry check - 6/7
*Flower check - 6/7
*Eat breakfast - 6/6
*Exercise - 4/7
*15 min to-do - 4/7
*15 min declutter - 4/7
*15 min zone - 6/7
*15 min to-do - 4/7
*Eat lunch - 7/7
*Eat snack - 7/7
*Prepare dinner - 6/6
*Dishes check - 6/7
*Lay out clothes - 6/7
*Eyes/teeth/face - 6/7
*Prayer - 7/7
*Shower under 5 min - Averaged 8 minutes
*Computer off 8:30 - Averaged 9:11 (8:26 to 11:23)
*Bed 9:30 - Averaged 10:07 (9:19 to 11:39)
*Lights out 10 - Averaged 10:52 (10:21 to 12:02)
126/145=87%; times: 3 hours, 30 minutes late (now including turning the computer off).

After reading on someone else's blog the goal for getting showers under 5 minutes, I decided I would try it. It's not technically a goal yet, because I want to take my times and see what my average time is, for maybe another week.

I also read ... somewhere (I really should mark these things) about someone's habit of making settling her son down to bed easier by turning off electronics an hour before bedtime. So I set the rule for myself not only that I need to turn off the computer at 8:30 at night, but that I'm not allowed to turn it on in the first place until I've completed my list up to eating lunch. So far it's been around lunch time that it gets turned on. I've noticed that I get everything done on those days (on four of the past seven days I've accomplished everything on my list except the timings—which are harder to work on). I get my list started in the morning, and make a conscious effort to be good, allowing myself breaks (reading the Little Colonel books helps in being a break and inspiring me at the same time). Then in the afternoon, I can watch a movie (or the US Open, to which my husband has somehow addicted me) while I eat lunch and relax... and then I'm antsy to keep progressing. So I've actually gotten more done than I intended, including things I've been putting off for at least 5 years: closing a bank account which I hadn't even told my married name...

Ooh. Interception for a touchdown! 'Scuse. Must go cheer on my team some more, even though my throat is a bit hoarse already.

Also, does anyone have ideas (for an auntie on a budget) for a certain five-year-old boy whose birthday is upcoming, with the theme of volcanoes? His mother has been told on no uncertain terms that volcanoes and dinosaurs will not be mixed at the festivities. She is going to make him an actual erupting volcano cake. I need to remember to ask for a cake from her for my birthday. Heh. With an icon on it or something.

Chant stand

2007-09-02T13:45:00.000-04:00

Well, today what I had hoped for happened, and I'm not sure whether I was ready.

None of the chanters showed up at the beginning of Orthros, so Fr. Peter filled in for them as he had before. And filled in... and filled in. Around the Doxology, he lifted his eyebrows and beckoned me up. I picked up the bulletin (with the hymns for the little entrance) and went up.

It was really quite terrifying. The first Sunday of each month is an all-English liturgy. Strange as it may sound, I am not used to singing many of the hymns in English. (I know what they mean, but they're more comfortable in Greek.) And I hadn't heard "my" versions in such a long while I was terrified that I would forget the melodies of what I do know. Fortunately, my husband was able to stay with me for most of the Liturgy, even though he turned over some things to me abruptly.

I received many compliments of which I feel unworthy, and I have been most definitely recruited to sing in the chapel choir. (During the school year, the assistant priest leaves the main church after Orthros, leading the school children to the chapel. They have liturgy there and are dismissed to Sunday school.) From what I understand, the church secretary has been running the chapel choir; when I mentioned that I hoped it was okay that I was putting off people who wanted me in the regular choir, she asked me why. I told her I wanted to be with my husband. She gave a big grin and said, "I thought so!"

And now back to the regularly scheduled Post-Liturgical Nap.

Saturday, September 1

2007-09-01T11:43:00.000-04:00

Ha! This time I remembered Smart Habits Saturday on Saturday. Not that anyone else is particularly interested in how many times a week I remembered to floss and water the orchid, but nobody has complained. Yet.

*Wake up 7:30 - Averaged 8:43 (7:24 to 10:37)
*Prayer and Scripture - 7/7
*Make bed - 7/7
*Get dressed - 7/7
*Eyes/teeth/face - 7/7
*Hair and make-up - 7/7
*Laundry check - 7/7
*Flower check - 7/7
*Eat breakfast - 6/6
*15 min to-do - 6/7
*15 min declutter - 4/7
*15 min zone - 3/7
*15 min to-do - 3/7
*Eat lunch - 7/7
*Eat snack - 3/3
*Prepare dinner - 4/6
*Dishes check - 6/7
*Lay out clothes - 5/6
*Vitamin - 6/7
*Exercise - 4/7
*Eyes/teeth/face - 6/7
*Prayer - 6/7
*Bed 9:30 - Averaged 10:03 (9:20 to 11:37)
*Lights out 10 - Averaged 11:02 (10:19 to 12:07)
118/140=84%; times: 3 hours, 29 minutes late.

During the week, I realized that I was being mean and crabby. Okay, and it might have been evident to my husband, who suggested that I eat a snack around 4 pm. After that I was able to keep on target, and even got everything done on Friday. (Thankfully escaping the "prepare dinner" task, as we were invited out to a lovely dinner at a parishioner's house at which I ate, unregrettably, too much dessert.)

I had hoped that laying out my clothes the night before would help me get my mornings more in line.

I am disappointed that I am more than a half hour behind on my overall times since last week, although those were skewed a bit as I woke up at 6:34 when Fr. Peter had to go to the airport very early.

I surprised myself with the to-do list. I actually sewed a rip and even finished typing the baptismal service (in Greek!). And things that weren't on the list got done, too, like taking pictures of some flowers in the yard and sending them to my sister the same day; and staying on top of paying hospital bills (oh, and does that ever need staying on top of; we're almost running out of paper clips to keep each section separate).

In other news, Fr. Peter has his brand-new home entertainment system. (Those credit card reward thingies earned us a $100 Sears gift card, and he'd been pining away for months.) Now it only takes me five minutes to manage to turn on the television (and the cable box and the sound). And I can hear when he's listening to music ... from any room in the house. And he needs another cable so we can watch DVDs ... although all of ours are in a box somewhere.

Go Irish, beat Yellow Jackets!

Saturday, August 25

2007-08-26T12:49:00.000-04:00

So I found The Lazy Organizer following a link from Parent Hacks to GNMParents to her site, and really liked the "SMART Saturday" idea. I made a list of daily things I wanted to accomplish and kept track of them, and here's how I did, from Sunday afternoon through Friday:

*Wake up 7:30 - Averaged 7:50 (6:34 to 8:38)
*Prayer and Scripture - 5/5
*Make bed - 5/5
*Get dressed - 5/5
*Eyes/teeth/face - 5/5
*Hair and make-up - 5/5
*Laundry check - 4/5
*Flower check - 5/5
*Eat breakfast - 5/5
*15 min to-do - 5/6
*15 min declutter - 4/6
*15 min zone - 1/6
*15 min to-do - 3/6
*Eat lunch - 6/6
*Prepare dinner - 2/6
*Dishes check - 6/6
*Vitamin - 4/6
*Exercise - 4/6
*Eyes/teeth/face - 5/6
*Prayer - 6/6
*Bed 9:30 - Averaged 10:46 (9:40 to 11:43)
*Lights out 10 - Averaged 11:13 (10:28 to 12:46)
85/106=80%; times: 2 hours, 49 minutes late.

I guess that's not too bad. I think I do better with just having a checklist. The 15-minute entries in the middle of the day are to keep me on track throughout the day. I have a "focus" of what I'd like to do from my to-do list, which, this week, is retyping the Baptismal service for Fr. Peter so he can have it in the order he likes, without having to flip through the entire book. "Decluttering" right now just means unpacking; "zone" means actual cleaning; the other "15 min to-do" means taking something else from the to-do list, separate from the main focus. I did eight things on the to-do list (and not the main focus) on Thursday, but I don't think it's fair to put them on other days: I just get to enjoy having them done, and not have to look at them on the list any more.

In other news, my father-in-law is finishing his second week here with us before returning to his work in Nigeria. My mother visited on Thursday-Friday-Saturday, and took him and me to the Florida Aquarium in Tampa, which was much better than I had thought it would be. We also went on the "Behind the Scenes Tour" and got to watch a girl feed the fish, and the Eco-Tour and managed to see a few brief glimpses of dolphins as well as the many birds ... nevermind just enjoying being out on a boat for an hour and a half. (Yes, I put on sunscreen before and after, and yes, I'm still as red as a lobster.) My favorite part were the otters, even though the "Behind the Scenes" tourguide said they were mean. They were also show-offs, doing flips any time anyone looked their way.

Yesterday was my (late) father's birthday. I used my new colorful stationery to send out cards to my niece, nephews, and sister, using the stamps my mother got with Papa's face on them (and was able to get them hand-cancelled by a nice lady at the post office). Since he is not using his birthday any more, I am very happy someone I know is! Gabi has a newborn little sister, and they are sharing a new blog.

Great Paraklesis

2007-08-02T21:10:00.000-04:00

(We're back from the trip to Romania, but there are 899 photos and one video to sort through and provide commentary on.)

Tonight, as there is no service at Holy Trinity (you can check out the webpage as Fr. Peter is working on it), we had a Great Paraklesis service at home. As you may know, the service is the same as the Small Paraklesis except for the odes and (as we remembered midway) the Gospel. However, we have no idea where our service book for the Small Paraklesis book is. (Did I take it to Romania? Is it still in a box?) So we used the online services (Small and Great).

But I learned (well, not in the finished sense) the Great Paraklesis odes from Fr. Seraphim (Dedes)'s cd. Except that I don't have a written copy. Being familiar with it from my six-month-plus stint of listening to it to and from work (twice through each way, or once in English and once in Greek), I found it much easier to finish transcribing it. (I had already done the first two odes previously, when I was less familiar with it.)

It was strange to have a service with my very own priest at home, but delightful to have a thoroughly familiar service. We have an icon of the Theotokos, gift of Fr. Antonie from the Neamţ Monastery (orthodoxwiki article to come, following picture-sorting, God-willing), propped up on a table. For most of the service we were turned towards the monitor, even using google documents for our prayer list ... which my husband added to verbally and I typographically as we went.

I think our house is happier now.

News; or Why I Haven't Been Posting

2007-07-07T20:00:00.000-04:00

Recent events:
June 6: Received a call from Houston, saying we should come be with Papa; things don't look good.
June 7: Fly down to Houston, met by Maire and Biren and Maya at the airport, wrong shuttle to car rental makes us wait about an hour longer. Get to spend some time with Papa at the hospital, go home to Tita's house while she stays at the hospital.
June 8: Hospital with Papa most of the day.
June 9: Hospital with Papa most of the day; went back to Webster for vespers. Received news of assignment. Went home to Tita's house to eat dinner. Received news of Papa's death. Dn. Virgil and I went back to the hospital, carried things for Tita; Peggy Atwood was there.
Sunday, June 10: Dn. Virgil dragged me out to church. Neighbors brought too much food. Saw George, got cell phones. Made arrangements for a truck. Tita made arrangements for men from Casa Juan Diego, and Marcus, her handyman, to load the truck in Houston.
Wednesday, June 13: Get the truck, call for AAA maps and triptiks, have men to load the truck. Stop any more things from getting on the truck, drive to Louisiana.
Thursday-Friday, June 14-15: Drive to Boston, MA, arriving at midnight.
Sunday, June 17: Father's Day. Load truck with lots of help. Popsicles and new babies.
June 18-19: Drive from Boston, MA, to Clearwater, FL, staying at a hotel and eating at Waffle House.
Wednesday, June 20: Sign one-year lease on new house. Turn on utilities. Unload most of truck (Dn. Virgil). Jerry-rig toilet (Magda). Have dinner with Fr. Dimitri (James) and Pres. Vasso.
Thursday, June 21: Finish unloading truck. Return truck. Have dinner with Ted, Lisa, and Michael Vlahos.
Sunday, June 24: Serve as "visiting deacon and wife" at Holy Trinity in Clearwater.
Monday, June 25: Make ob/gyn appointment for Wednesday.
Wednesday, June 27: Have ob/gyn appointment (get in at 9:06 am for 9:30 appointment, get seen at 10:45 - yuck): placenta size is 9 weeks, 2 days; no sign of fetal development. Need a D & C; scheduled for Monday.
Thursday, June 28: Drive to Savannah, GA. Pick up Tita for vespers. Post-vesperal dinner, with remarks from Metr. Alexios. Check into hotel on Tybee Island. Get vestments from Fr. Anthony Salzman.
Friday, June 29: Dn. Virgil becomes Fr. Peter on the feast of Ss. Peter and Paul at the church of St. Paul in Savannah. Heather and David Hewer; Lissa and Gabi Angtuaco. Luncheon in church hall. Spend time with guests, schedule D&C arrangments for Monday. Dinner across from hotel at Stingrays; ice cream and sno cones afterwards. Hewers leave, Angtuacos and Andronaches on beach.
Saturday, June 30: Travel to Hilton Head with Metr. Alexios and Fr. Grigorios and Tita. Celebrates his first service (as second priest; Metr. Alexios chants, co-opting Pres. Magda to chant stand). Go to look at RC chapel, use of which is offered to Hilton Head parish. Have lunch at Olympia Cafe with Metr. A and Fr. G. Take Fr. G back to the Tybee hotel, take Tita to her hotel and crash. Get stuff from Tita; drive back to Tybee Island hotel instead of going to dinner. Watch Lord Peter Wimsey; watch moonrise as walking on the beach.
Sunday, July 1: Celebrate second service as priest at St. Paul's in Savannah; skip farewell luncheon. Drive back to Clearwater is punctuated by severe diarrhea (two stops: on each, thwarted by closed and out-of-order bathrooms); swear off McDonald's forever. Thunderstorms reduce speed to as low as 35 mph, with flashers, much of the way.
Monday, July 2: Ultrasound and D&C at Morton Plant hospital.
Wednesday, July 4: Enjoy matinee of Ratatouille.
Thursday, July 5: Get washer, dryer, internet, and cable. Mow lawn, clean house (still in progress).

Upcoming events:
Monday, July 9: Follow-up appointment to D&C.
Tuesday, July 10: Fly to Romania.

Links of interest:
Savannah Now (official) pictures of the ordination
Our pictures of the ordination
Yum.

Expecting news, but not what we were expecting

2007-05-15T15:36:00.000-04:00

No, we still don't have a parish assignment.

Friday was my last day at work, and T gave me four tickets to the Red Sox. We went with Thomas and Jenny and had a great time. I am also happy about my now-empty change purse, the contents of which went to a rather surprised man who was begging. Dn. Virgil asked me whether I had given him just the change, or the purse as well. I was rather surprised that I had not told him about this particular purse. My mother had let me take it to school one day, and I bought my lunch and had the purse on the tray ... as I emptied it out into the trash. Miss Perkins went through the Dumpster to get the little purse back. So, no, I didn't give the purse away.

Last week, we found out some news which was confirmed at a doctor's visit yesterday afternoon. We started a new blog to share the news, but you'll have to be clever and find it yourself.

This morning, my husband received the news that he will be Holy Cross' valedictorian this year.

So, with my new-blog news and my husband's valedictory news, when someone comes up to us and says, "Congratulations!" I wonder what in particular we're being congratulated on.

Also recently enjoyed: not working, a two-hour nap after Liturgy this morning, and eating ice cream with my husband.

Parish Assignment

2007-05-04T10:07:00.000-04:00

No, we don't have one yet. We've cycled from the-bishops-don't-know-yet to maybe-city-A to maybe-city-B to the current state of the-bishops-definitely-don't-know.

Dna. Vassi has been very good at helping me remember: "God will provide." She gave me her hairband to snap on my wrist when I give into the worries and actually try to answer the solicitous "Where are you going?" I receive from my co-workers and family—from at least one person every day. I was explaining this to a fellow worrier: "I snap it against my wrist, hurting myself when I don't trust in God." (Oh. This little diakonissa finally got it.)

On the other hand, it's much easier to offer another answer, especially to those who ask me daily whether I've heard anything yet.

I've decided to say we're moving to Laputa.

Grandma

2007-04-03T21:41:00.000-04:00

My mother told me last week that the nurse said, given a choice between whether she thought Grandma would live another five days or another ten days, that it would be "stretching it" to say ten days more. My mother said she was going to Denver this past weekend. I was undecided until W at work said "Go." [For the record, my husband IMed me "I think it would be good for you to go" while I was talking to W. And he supported me the entire way through and I like him lots. Still.] I am glad I did. I am also glad I was able to snag Fr. Christodoulos to hear my confession. He's wonderful.

I spent three hours at the hospice with my grandmother. I spoke in her left ear, repeatedly telling her who I was and that I loved her (my father's advice, especially the repetition). The hospice people said that she was in a comatose state, and my mother had warned me that Grandma's breathing was irregular - it might stop for as long as 20 seconds or so at a time.

I patted her hair and read psalms to her (only the happy ones, per my mother's advice). I switched sides and she opened her eyes and flinched quite a bit when I began to pet her hair again. I told her who I was and that I loved her, some more. I read some more psalms to her. I sang songs to her. I told her funny little stories that came into my head.

The nurse came in and showed me how to give her some water, after I asked whether she could swallow (thinking of the holy water I had brought with me). Grandma's mouth was open and her tongue looked like the kind of tongue you get when you have too much phlegm and then go to sleep and can't breathe through your nose. I had only noticed her swallow about once until then. The first time the nurse gave Grandma some water it was apparent that Grandma's mouth was dry, and she closed her lips on the little sponge. A little later, Grandma coughed, which alarmed me (she could hardly move herself at all), so I went out into the hall where a group of nurses was. Some of them came in and showed me the little pain-medicine button and I could push it as often as I liked and it wouldn't overmedicate her (releasing only every 20 minutes). That made the few times I saw Grandma wince a little easier, as there was something I could do.

I put oil on her forehead, the holy oil that Dn. Virgil had brought back from his senior trip to New York. I told her about him and how he was praying for her. I showed her the little icon of Christ's body with his Mother and three disciples nearby. I told her they were waiting for Christ's Resurrection, just as we were waiting for Easter. Her eyes went from my face to the little icon as I described it.

After a while she seemed to be tired, so I spent the rest of the visit reading silently by her bedside, petting her hair smooth (I had complimented her on her hair and skin—my mother would say that if Grandma didn't keep a hair appointment, then we could start to worry), and reassuring her with pain medication and verbal reminders: "I'm here; you're okay," after which she seemed to rest a little easier.

When the nurses came in to move her occasionally, they didn't seem to be too careful about letting her know they were going to touch or move her before they did so. I remember being in the hospital after my back surgery and having my own surgeon sit on my mattress even though I was begging him to get up because he was hurting me; he didn't. She was in a lot of pain when they moved her, and I don't blame her for being even more hurt at sudden, unexpected movement by others. I was glad when they left us alone.

I had never been really "close" with my grandmother. I am her youngest grandchild (just me and my sisters).

I drove home to Grandma's house, a thirty-minute drive which took fifty because I had no sense of direction in the dark (7 o'clock there was my body's 9 o'clock), and took two long wrong turns. My mother came in the middle of the night and got to Grandma's house around three thirty. We were awakened early by a call saying Grandma had passed away. We had celebrated her 90th birthday party in October 2005.

The previous time I had visited my grandmother, I remembered her crying that she missed her husband. She had been without him for over 15 years. When I went to see her body in the morning, her forehead was smoothed, not wrinkled in pain. I was overcome with joy. She has her husband, her four tiny children who didn't survive more than a day or two, her adopted daughter. She is surrounded by God's love and grace. Filling my head was the word "Rejoice" from the akathist.

My mother was quite collected, having directions on what to do from her mother. She did say several times that I was a great help and she was glad I had come.

Please pray for the repose of the soul of the servant of God, Mary Catherine.

Choir Concert

2007-04-03T21:33:00.000-04:00

On March 24 we had a nice little choir concert. There were lots of points of confusion, but everything seemed to get straightened out. The turnout was rather low, due to a monastery trip which many people seemed to take advantage of, and the presence of a bishop at vespers, but we did make a little money for Fr. Alexios' school in Kenya.

Dn. Virgil sang two solos and after the intermission I sang a solo and we sang a duet. It was really rather terrifying, since I hadn't sung "Una Voce Poco Fa" in *such* a long time, and I am not pleased with how the end came out, but all the people in the audience seemed to like it. To get over my stage fright, I relaxed into the feisty character: the theme of the song is "I'm so innocent, docile, biddable ... but! if you cross me in love, watch out! I've got tricks up my sleeve and I'll be like a viper and lay a thousand traps!" I think almost every single person mentioned that they liked the way I turned the page. (Silly me. I forgot to number "skilled page-turning" in my talents. Heh.) I was sad that nobody seemed to remark on his solos, though later someone said she had. (There were two other soloists, but they (and I) sung in the second half, so maybe the people forgot about Dn. Virgil's first-half solos. But I really liked the German song he sang, and am still hoping for a personal encore ... when I remember to ask for it again.)

Hopefully, I'll be successful in my continued requests for the DVDs to be available.

Book Meme

2007-03-23T15:04:00.000-04:00

This is Mimi's fault.

1. Hardback or trade paperback or mass market paperback? Um. Was I supposed to be paying attention to more than just the story?

2. Amazon or brick and mortar? Half-Price Books.

3. Barnes & Noble or Borders? There's a difference? I have yet to use up the gift certificates (not cards, even) which I got for my high school graduation ... about 9 years ago. I mean to, of course. But, well, new books seem rather expensive (see above).

4. Bookmark or dogear? *gasp* Bookmark, of course. Working in the ND Rare Books and Special Collections Department just emphasized that idea, but also put me onto book snakes and cradles. (I keep meaning to make a book snake, as I think it would be particularly effective at the chant stand.)

5. Alphabetize by author or alphabetize by title or random? Right now they are in several caches of various size around the apartment. Once we get a more permanent place, though, I hope to have some sort of order, most likely by genre, then author.

6. Keep, throw away, or sell? Keeep.

7. Keep dust jacket or toss it? Keeep.

8. Read with dust jacket or remove it? No, no. Keeep.

9. Short story or novel? Yes. I usually gravitate towards novels, because if I like them, there's more reading in there, so I can keep going.

10. Collection (short stories by same author) or anthology (short stories by different authors)? Um. It doesn't make much difference to me, as long as I like the author (for a collection) or the editor (for an anthology). Also, this was the first I'd heard of the particular difference in usage of "collection" and "anthology."

11. Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket? I seem to have run out of each, so: yes, please.

12. Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks? No! Or rather, I am to stop reading when I'm supposed to, but that time always gets pushed back to "the end of this chapter" ... which is not necessarily good, because I can't always mentally register the chapter breaks themselves. When I'm being good, I put my finger or a bookmark at the next chapter, so I can remember to stop. When I'm really tired, though, I'll just close the book mid-sentence (hopefully, but not always, with the bookmark inside).

13. “It was a dark and stormy night” or “Once upon a time”? "Once upon a time," most of the time.

14. Buy or Borrow? Borrow first! I love my library, and what I can't find there (even through interlibrary loan) I look for online: sometimes the eBooks are available for free; there's also google's "find in a library" search: use that phrase in quotation marks with the title of your book and you can go to the entry at worldcat libraries, and you can see what libraries around you have copies of the book (like university libraries, or other places you wouldn't think to look at first). If it's really only available for sale, I stick it on my amazon.com wishlist and wait for my mother to think it's a good idea. I mean, there are other books in the meantime.

15. New or used? Used. (How do I love thee, Half-Price Books? Let me count the pennies... )

16.Buying choice: book reviews, recommendation or browse? What's the difference between book reviews and recommendations? Someone liked the book and informed you about it, right? I like going with that, especially from Mimi and Miriam, although I recently found the Daisy Dalrymple series (like Miss Marple, but not) by Carola Dunn through browsing the mystery section.

17. Tidy ending or cliffhanger? Tidy ending, although mid-series cliffhangers are okay because there's another book coming along. Another reason to read older authors.

18. Morning reading, afternoon reading or nighttime reading? I prefer to avoid mornings in toto, but Saturday afternoons curled up in the comfy chair with a good book are yummy. Most of my reading is between "in bed" and "lights out."

19. Stand-alone or series? I prefer series: they're good enough that the publisher keeps going, the author usually has more of a reputation, etc. On the other hand, they ought to be good enough on their own. Picking up a stand-alone is much riskier.

20. Favorite series? This is a hard one. I like the Miles Vorkosigan books (Lois McMaster Bujold), and Anne of Green Gables and Little House on the Prairie... oh, and the Goose Girl / Enna Burning books by Shannon Hale

21. Favorite children’s book? When I was a child or now? I still wouldn't know. Gah. I give up.

22. Favorite book of which nobody else has heard? The Blue Window by Temple Bailey

23. Favorite books read last year? Um. Between April and September last year I have 96 books and I haven't even bothered finishing that post's reviews. So I don't think I'll go into that. I did like Born Confused by Tanuja Desai Hidier, North by Donna Jo Napoli, and everyone seems to like The Time Traveler's Wife as well, but I'll add it and be redundant. The King of Mulberry Street by Donna Jo Napoli; A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith; the Homecoming series by Cynthia Voigt (even though I had to read it in middle school); 84, Charing Cross Road by Helene Hanf; Briar Rose by Jane Yolen; the Miles Vorkosigan books by Lois McMaster Bujold; The Tiger Rising by Kate DiCamillo.... I guess I did "go into that" ... but not going into much of the unreviewed books.

24. Favorite books of all time?
1. The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley
2. The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery
3. The Blue Window by Temple Bailey
— I swear I didn't mean to! I can't think of any others which would so definitively be dear to my heart, unless it's more of the same authors. Although M.M. Kaye's The Far Pavilions is up there far enough I can notice it. (How's that for mixing metaphors. Or maybe I just have my heart on a high shelf. Betcha didn't think of that. Not that you should, of course. Closing parenthesis now.)

25. Least favorite book you finished last year? Ugh. (I'm going through my book journal on lj.) The Woman Who Rides Like a Man by Tamora Pierce. I didn't realize it was mid-series when I picked it up, and my comment from the book journal sums it up: "I just wanted everyone to die immediately." Tangentially, I've noticed that when there's a "church" in the book, be it fantasy or historical fiction, I absolutely hate it when the main characters are against the church, or the church (at least in historical fiction) is portrayed as mostly evil.

26. What are you reading right now? The first Daisy Dalrymple: Death at Wentwater Court, by Carola Dunn. I recently finished The Geographer's Library which was disappointing in its ending, rather like House of Leaves (not House of Grass, House of Leaves): it seemed really cool ... and then fizzled.

27. What are you reading next? That depends on what is due soonest at the library at this point. I am trying to read as many as I can and, alas, wean myself from my beloved library. Not that I don't have several scores of books which I own ... there's the pile on the bookcase by Dn. Virgil's side of the bed, the pile behind the library books on the bookshelf, the piles in the bag from Emily, the pile on my bedside chair, the two giant ones I got from my mother, the dozen or so I got from my mother and shoved into a bookcase, and who knows what else she sent for my birthday. (Telling her not to send me more stuff which I'll have to pack doesn't seem to have much effect, does it, now?)

Addenda: I have to thank Mary Beth (HC, not ND) for giving me the "Books to Read" notebook. I have started writing down the books I "mean to" read, and thus actually remembering what they are when I bring the notebook to the library. Even when I don't bring it with me, I have developed the habit of keeping track of them as an event on my google calendar (which event also has all the current due dates of library materials I have outstanding). I am so ready to quit my job and run home and just read and read and read. I've already added several of Mimi's titles to my "to read" list. :)

Cubically

2007-03-21T22:18:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, a man and a woman loved each other very much, so they got married. Then they decided they would like to have a baby to love. So they prayed and prayed. And God said, "Yes."

And that was me!

— adapted from my parents' traditional birthday story, with me piping in at the end

Today was better than I could have imagined. Last night, two neighbors and I went out to dinner. I didn't know I was helping them buy ingredients for my own surprise birthday dinner! I thought I would just be invited over to dinner with the one neighbor. Evidently, she's sneakier than that. There were candles, placemats, napkin-holders, and a half-dozen smiling friends: the most welcoming sight.

Earlier, at Presanctified Liturgy, I was at the chant stand and had the four little girls in front (two of the triplets, a toddler, and one whom I'm convinced is an angel) come up and snuggle up to me out of the blue.

I'm getting to the point where it feels like God took Dn. Virgil away for the week so He could show me the other blessings he has for me. I kinda get distracted being wifely (either accommodating or demanding) when my husband's around.

Well, I was planning on writing my thank-you notes, but what with Ladies' Night Out (which I enjoyed: part one of the Twelve Great Feasts), my sister calling, and talking to Dn. Virgil online, I just have enough time to creep into bed. (And try not to stay up late and read like I've been doing the past couple of nights, using the excuse that my contacts are out so I can't see the numbers on the clock so I can read another chapter even though I know full well that I brought my Lego watch into bed with me so I can see when I should go to bed!)

Prayer Requests

2007-03-20T14:21:00.000-04:00

Please pray for my grandmother, Mary Catherine, who was taken to the hospital in an ambulance (after just having gotten home from the rehab place she was in for a couple of months). Please also pray for Catherine and Theodore.

Dependency

2007-03-20T11:20:00.000-04:00

Dn. Virgil is gone to New York this week for a senior trip to the Archdiocese.

Tomorrow, as previously noted, is my birthday. My birthday is forever doomed going to occur in Lent. The past two years he has made me a birthday cake from scratch. Last year's was all crumbly and lumpy, like a chocolate volcano. I was so disappointed to find out I wasn't "allowed" to come on the trip, so disappointed to realize that he was going to be away on "my" day, that I started missing him early. And very emotionally.

I realize that it's over-emotional, but that doesn't mean that I've been able to stop. It's a good thing I have tasks to accomplish to take my mind off the fact that there's a husband-sized hole in my life right now. I am beset with thoughts and images telling me that he'll be in an accident and I'll never see him again, but I don't think those are from God, so I am doing my best to pray hard to dispel these thoughts. I still tear up, like a giant baby, about once an hour at work.

Being at work is good, except that I'm getting to the part of my to-do list that I've been putting off (it's not important, but I should still do it) for a couple of months now. It's a little weird not to be putting out fires, but I'm pretty sure this is only a brief reprieve, so I should make good use of this time. In the evenings, I've been making plans to go to the gym (last night), and go grocery shopping and have dinner with a neighbor (whose husband is also on the trip), and attend the choir rehearsals. There's also quite a bit of administrative stuff for the concert to prepare for: getting a hold of Fr. Alexios for information about St. Mark's and whether he'd be able to say a few words during the concert; getting together with Diana to go over solo pieces; getting binders and music and information to people who need them; and getting the program finalized and printed out. And I need to schedule a confession, always a difficult task. I came too late to chapel last night to find a priest to ask.

Last night, as I was going into the gym, I was chatting with a student coming out. He remarked that my being away from Virgil and missing him so much sounded like another form of fasting. Reading this post on fasting also helped me take a step back and evaluate how what I was feeling was dominating how I thought and what I did.

I have been leaning too hard on my husband. Yes, he can take it, and gracefully, but it's not good for either of us. I look to him for reassurance on everything. This morning, I got up on the third snooze (not the fifth or the sixth, as usual) and was out the door with time to get fuel and still be early to work (not five minutes late, or just barely on time). I even had to make all of my own lunch. I haven't sliced bread in months, much less had to get the loaf out of the machine.

I know comparisons are odious, but I look around at my peers and I see adults: one has a little baby and another on the way* and is going to Ethiopia to see whether their family has a calling to missions; another has a baby with one on the way* and is struggling to cope with being a stay-at-home mother and writer while her husband is gone much of the time; another is expecting,* with her husband gone, and yet extends the hand of friendship to me, inviting me over for dinner tomorrow night. I struggle for half an hour to reply to an email from the last of these, stressed because I have to make decisions about what I will do in the next two evenings, without any feedback from my husband about what I do or how I phrase things in the email.

*I don't mean to say that the only people I admire are pregnant, or that it's all I think about, but I am especially impressed with people who not only have things together to the extent of being able to handle (not just physically) the demands of being responsible for life besides their own, but are expanding in other realms of their lives as well as being gracious and hospitable. Writing out a list of these three, however, has made me realize that God has given them to me as icons, holding out a hopeful picture of the strengths he would like to share with me if I choose to keep working on myself.

Oh, it hurts to grow, but how little and small and ugly I am now! Pray for me, a sinner.

Ordinary

2007-03-17T18:34:00.000-04:00

"Ordinary" comes from the Latin ordinarius meaning "customary, regular, usual, orderly." —"Ordinary People," Boundless, Roberto Rivera y Carlo

I finished the scarf I had been knitting for Dn. Virgil. I didn't really want to, since I hadn't finished the skein, but the sky dumped a lot of snow on us yesterday (enough for boots), he's going to New York next week, and it's long enough (longer than he wanted, which I thought was too short).

It curls, so I blocked it. Who says my college calculus book isn't still useful? (Along with four other math and computer science books from my husband's previous academic life, that is.) Then I went online, since it was still curling, and found out that knitted stitches are smaller than purled stitches, so stockinette stitch (where one side is all knit-stitched and the other all purl-stitch) is physically bound to curl. :( But I also found some patterns for simple scarves so I can try something else (like just plain knitting for both sides, for instance) for the next scarf. I think I will keep my eye open for natural fabrics (not terribly happy with the whole "acrylic" thing) which are multi-colored and purple.

I've also been trying to get things in order for his trip to New York. Last night (amid basketball watching, natch), we put together a list of things for him to take on the trip. We can't start packing yet because we can't get to our things in storage, despite having spoken to our neighbor and the Housing director guy. This is the latest in a long-standing series of problems in terms of the storage area in the basement and our being (un)able to access our pallet, but this is the worst: there's no space in the middle of the floor, so all I can do is turn on the light, turn it out, and let my husband know. I distracted him with Victor Borge, because he's getting a bit fed up with this, too.

So I put together a binder for him with choir music and solo (and duet) music for next Saturday's concert.

You are cordially invited to the campus of Hellenic College / Holy Cross Greek Orthodox School of Theology for a concert by the "Deacon's Singers" at Maliotis Cultural Center on March 24, 2007, at 7:00 pm, with proceeds to benefit the St. Mark's Orthodox School in Kenya.

Tickets are $5, and I think you get them at the door. We still need to talk to Fr. Alexios, who is a student here and who started St. Mark's school, about offering some comments during the concert.

We have all the choir pieces pretty much together, but there are lots of last-minute things to take care of, making sure everyone has everything in order for this concert, has a binder, etc. I'm getting frustrated with the people in the choir and my own inability to figure things out. It's also difficult to figure out what I'm singing (soprano line v. alto line). I'm tired of my husband (and my, but mostly his) hard work going unappreciated. Simple things like not telling him (although he asks every week) that someone's not going to be at rehearsal.

Anyhow. Going back to the "my hard work" things, I've put together a first draft of the program for the concert. You know, notes about the pieces, a la Dan Stowe, paragon of choir directors. I'll need to cut it down, since it's seven pages (for ten pieces, not including anything about the solos and duets which haven't yet been decided upon. Solos and duets: Dn. Virgil has a couple of short solos picked out (German and English), I have an Italian aria, we're thinking about a couple of duets (Loch Lomond - English, and Dunque Io Son - Italian), Mari has a couple of English pieces in mind, and Vinnie might do some. Diana is an angel to even consider all that accompaniment. It sounds pretty exciting to me. I don't know my choir pieces well enough to be happy about them, it's been years since I've done Una Voce Poco Fa (although when I was at ND, I downloaded 27 different versions so I could study what different singers had done with it: Marilyn Horne and Victoria de los Angeles were my two favorites), and I've never actually looked at the Dunque Io Son piece.

This morning while Dn. Virgil was at the senior retreat (to which I made him wear his "Irish By Marriage" pin, provided by my mother in years past), I slept in. Then I cleaned house - it had gotten pretty messy in days previous, when we were trying to find the Dunque Io Son piece. We never did, but Dn. V went to the library and got the opera score (Barber of Seville) and scanned in the piece and I printed out copies at work.

I'm still upset that he will be gone next week. It's bad enough that he'll be gone for five days in a row—we've never really slept apart—but he'll be gone for my birthday. I refuse to open any presents early, and I don't want to open them on my birthday (how depressing would that be? opening presents all. by. myself.), so I'm saving them for after he comes back.

Nine more weeks, right?

P.S. I do mean to respond to comments... more than just in my head, that is.

Sore Throat

2007-03-12T20:40:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I missed church and today I missed work, due to a sore throat which added some congestiony things. I had forgotten what it was like to be sick, so it took me a while to get back in the hang of treating symptoms.

Last night, after a day with no congestion, I started getting completely congested and then I remembered Tylenol Cold. Within half an hour, I was asleep. What bliss!

Yesterday and today I tried to eat things with mustard in them. And, of course, tried to eat vitamins and drink fluids, especially orange juice.

But this evening, I remembered my secret weapon: garlic. Just a section of a clove, eaten after a while. I feel (and smell) powerful.

Maybe this is what I need to have on hand to help me set boundaries with people at work. Unless they like garlic as much as my husband does. :)

Saturday: eleven more weeks

2007-03-03T22:34:00.000-05:00

Today was fun. I got to sleep in. I succeeded in eating less (than everything, which is how much I usually want to eat, but still) and drinking more water. I played on orthodoxwiki which I hadn't in a while. I edited some of the ethics assignments which have been posted, made a couple of new pages for saints, and put some links between the Romanian and English pages, until the wiki broke, at least.

We also got out of the house today. The reason? To get soybeans. I asked Virgil what I should wear. He asked me whether I had any jeans that fit. So we went to Savers instead of getting soybeans. (Also, I tried on all my pants and skirts and packed up several items with the half-a-box of VHS tapes and took an entire box to Savers! One less to pack!) We bought wooden hangers (6), a picture frame, a sweater, a shirt, two dresses, and a pair of jeans. I didn't even need to look at the books because I had received a giant bagful from Emily last week, and I'm happily reading a historical fiction trilogy by Pamela Kaufman.

We had Fr. Kahaber over for dinner, and he played the guitar for us afterwards.

Happy.

Continuing the count-down

2007-02-28T16:13:00.000-05:00

Currently, there's eleven weeks, two working days, and forty-seven minutes to commencement.

Work is harder and harder to tolerate, somehow. The phrase "wailing and gnashing of teeth" is not out of place with my thoughts on the subject. Right now I don't know my plans for the next eleven-twelve-thirteen weeks. (Of course I don't know anything beyond that. That would be silly.)

So work is in the process of producing an employee handbook. I asked K a while back how many vacation days I have left (thinking I would see how much of a Paschal break I could take, or how else I should arrange my tools to stretch my sanity jeest a little further). And she didn't know. Because they're in the process of changing how vacation days are done.

What I knew before: effective January 1, employee has immediate access to a year's worth of vacation, sick time, etc.; employee keeps any unused time at the end of the year, adding to the current time.

What K indicates they may be changing to: effective at the employee's anniversary (hire) date, employee will accrue vacation time in what seems to be a monthly manner: 0.867 something days per month; employee does *not* keep unused time at the end of the year.

My anniversary date is April 25 (or 24 according to K, which makes a difference since I took Bright Monday off last year). Massachusetts law says that the employer must pay for any unused vacation time when employee leaves company. I had been planning to work as long as I could, take the vacation pay as a bonus savings for the trip to Greece; I had spoken with this to JL who seemed okay with this. However, if I do that and the second plan is in effect, I would not *get* any vacation pay, and I *would* lose what I hadn't used. Which is silly, to me. I also realized that if Holy Week would come after my anniversary date, were I still employed here and the new plan would be in effect, I wouldn't be able to take the week off. Since last year's Holy Week, I took off three days for traveling to his ordination; one day for a stress vacation day; and two sick days. Also, I really don't want to work here any more.

So JL and C1 and I (that's yours truly, not another initial) had a meeting yesterday, involving who does what and how far is her training and how can we speed things up, and I voiced my concerns about the vacation thing. JL said that within a couple of weeks, they should have three or four people ready to be interviewed. So. One thing Dn. V. and I had been talking about was giving notice this week and stopping working on my birthday. However, due to the COMPLETELY UNKNOWN FUTURE, it seems prudent to keep socking money away into the savings account.

So after commencement, there's a trip to Greece, which is sponsored by the government of Greece through the school. We have tentative dates (starting a week after commencement). We have been told the government does not have the funds to include the wives (but we don't know whether, if we pay them the money, they could include us in the plans, transportation, etc.). We have given our passport information to the (very patient) student who is working to get us any information at all.

Then after the nebulous trip to Greece, there's a tentative trip to Romania to meet my inlaws. We would like to abscond with them back to the States (you know, generic airport) so that they can be present for their son's (and brother's) ordination to the priesthood.

Theoretically (oh, how bitter are the adverbs!), the ordination would take place at Dn. V.'s new parish assignment. The most recent news on that is from one of the two bishops in Chicago, saying something to the effect of "oh, I thought of this one parish, but I'll have to talk to the other bishop; we'll get back to you."

And then we live happily ever after. Thank goodness there are no loopholes in these plans or anything. I feel like I need a daisy chain and a wispy dress and a vacant look in my eye. I don't mind plans changing ... but that means actually having plans. Right now it's too "yeah, I'd like to do that someday; how about this summer?" God, I trust, but there are a lot of other people whom I *have* to trust, pulling the strings and calling the shots. Too bad I can't get a letter from my bishop telling my boss I need to stay home and play Alpha Centauri for the next eleven weeks.

Oh, and the sequel to my thrilling "Receptionist Manual" is in the works. Today I wrote how to submit forms online. Except for the part where I needed clarification from JL, so I wrote around that. I think there's a desk under all these papers, but I'm beginning to doubt.

Eleven weeks, two working days, and nineteen minutes to commencement. Now to fill the nineteen minutes with silly things which get paper off my desk, since I can't actually think any more.

Lent Begins

2007-02-19T10:15:00.000-05:00

We have had two services in Lent so far: Forgiveness Vespers last night and Orthros this morning. At the end of the vesperal service, beginning with the priests, deacons, and professors, we asked forgiveness of each other, individually bending down before each icon of Christ, kissing and begging in humble joy.

This morning, as usual, was a struggle to wake up (several times). But in the light of the chapel, each face was reflecting the morning light, many almost haggard-looking. (Or maybe that's just the way I felt so early.) The beauty of last night's calisthenics in the darkened church was brought forward into light, as each person I saw seemed to be even more a representation of Christ ... even the ones I didn't particularly like for one or another trivial reason.

We had a beautiful reflection on chastity given by Dna. Vassi. She said several things I particularly enjoyed, but this one especially: that everything she would say, she hoped we already knew, but perhaps, as she sometimes did, we needed a reminder. So often I find myself tuning things out, because I have convinced myself, "Oh, I already know that" when it may be a lesson I have yet to learn, like the story about the priest who preaches the same sermon Sunday after Sunday—his parishoners get worried: "Father, how long are you going to preach the same sermon?" "Until you listen."

My husband says that today is one of the strict fasting days, and he is planning to not eat until the evening. I am going to try to join him, but my stomach is already rumbling, trying to call my attention (as usual) to myself and what I want. God grant me the grace to continue on my journey to obeying His desires for me.

Forgive me, my brothers and sisters, a sinner.

Crawling Through

2007-02-09T11:26:00.000-05:00

This week has really taken it out of me, and I haven't even made it to the gym.

Work ... has been rather horrendous. E was out sick Monday, and we had a new C (C2) to train as receptionist. Our previous C (C1) was out sick Tuesday, came in for the first part of Wednesday, and had to go home and be out on Thursday as well. Nevermind all the unexpected work (for me and for C1, and training C2) I got to prevent me from my already over-loaded expected workload. And the interpersonal boundary issues. Haven't killed anyone yet, and there are 14 weeks and half a workday left now, until commencement.

On Sunday I knitted for about five or six hours. Dn. Virgil lost the scarf I had previously made him, so I figured I would pick up the lonely yarn and make him another. It's a pretty, bright red, and I'd like to be done by the 14th, but I'm planning on using up the whole skein, so I don't know whether that will happen. It's already a good length for a very short scarf, but I like knitting, and I may as well use up this skein and start in on another matching scarf for myself, since I managed to lose my scarf, too, perhaps out of spousal sympathy.

On Monday evening, I was so beat I just stayed home and knitted. On Tuesday, I went shopping during the day and after work, went to the library, and knitted while I watched House. On Wednesday, Dn. Virgil started the laundry, and I finished it; Dna. Shyla came over to visit and drove us both over to Ladies' Night Out where Dna. Vassi showed us how to make kollyva (with many different spellings), and we talked about the different traditions. Afterwards, we had the Howards up for fruit snacks. On Thursday, we had choir rehearsal for the Deacon's Singers (our SATB choir which Dn. Virgil started), and my voice told me that after that week, I was most definitely not going to be able to push enough air out of my lungs to sing well, let alone sing the soprano line. The spice tea from Natalie, given the night before, was really good when I got home (and knitted).

Lent hasn't even started, and I feel like I'm creeping towards Pascha, any progress already reduced to a crawl. I've gotten my Fr. Seraphim Dedes' Great Paraklesis cd back in the car, but couldn't summon up the energy to sing along this morning. I've noticed a difference in how difficult things seem on fasting days as opposed to non-fasting days, actively struggling against giving up. Maybe the creeping crawling is a good preparation for humbling myself, but I am longing for (perhaps not "ready") the lightness of Pascha. (Wikipedia says of crawling, "The term is often used to describe the motion of infants..." That seems appropriate in this "motion of a particularly slow process.")

This weekend we'll celebrate the Saturday of the Souls. Praise God I won't add my father to that list this week. Monday brought a scare, though he should be out of the hospital this coming Monday. (Please pray for Theodore.) On Saturday afternoon, there's a baptism for a darling baby girl on campus. After vespers, we've snagged some people to come over for dinner* before we go to the school's apokriatiko glendi (like a mardi gras celebration) in the gym in the evening. Sunday evening offers a "Kyriaki Parea" which means "Sunday Company" for the women of campus; I'll be bringing my knitting.

*We need help in eating up the ice cream, since somebody doesn't want me to do the whole thing myself. I've offered.

We are hoping that next week will bring my renewed passport and some information about where we might be going in the fall.

Sunday of the Prodigal Son

2007-02-05T12:00:00.000-05:00

I think my favorite story is that of the Prodigal Son. A father confessor of mine had likened confession to that story, and ever since then, it comes up in my mind. Last night I was talking to Dn. Virgil about my thoughts on it, and he said he enjoyed them, so you have him to blame for this blog post.

There are several differences to look at in this story. One is how the younger son makes his decisions. In the second part of the story, "when he came to himself," he makes a decision. (I also like the translation; it is a beautiful way to say that he was honest with himself, and came face-to-face with his behavior.) However, in the first part of the story, there is no indication that he reflects at all. For one thing, there's no language about it: immediately, he goes to his father and asks for his inheritance. For another thing, he doesn't immediately go out and party: "Not many days later..." he leaves; that indicates that he's really not planning anything, even having a good time.

Another difference in the story is, when the younger son does start planning, how he thinks his father will react and how his father ends up reacting. (My father confessor pointed out that their relationship is a symbol of the relationship between mankind and our heavenly Father.) The younger son plans to say things and humble himself as a servant. However, at first he doesn't even get that chance because his father is so overjoyed to see him: "But while he was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him." Then the son was able to tell his father of his contrition.

This story is the story of confession: we do wrong, perhaps unthinkingly, and are estranged from God; we "come to ourselves" and realize that we're in a sorry state, and things are better off where we came from; we decide to go back, humbly; we begin to act on that decision; God rejoices and welcomes us; we follow through on our decision to repent (that's the actual confessing within the sacrament—the hardest part for me); and we are welcomed home with rejoicing and festivities (able again to partake in the Holy Gifts).

The third difference in this story is the behavior of the two sons. One son begins by being unthinking, but then he thinks about his actions and realizes the consequences, and works on his relationship with his father; the consequences are joy. The older son comes into the story almost as an afterthought, completely separate from the younger—no cut-ins to tell what he's enjoying when the younger son is suffering, no telling about how hard he's working—it's not a story about their relationship with each other, only about their separate relationships with their father. (I thought this was interesting.) The older son looks at what he's done and judges that he did a good job and deserves more—after looking at what his brother got. We don't have any information about him being unsatisfied until he looks over at greener pastures. He comes to his father with bitterness and complaints. He doesn't rejoice that he's been better off than his brother this whole time. I feel sorry for him: he doesn't go through so much pain and agony, but he seems locked up, and refuses to grow.

His father seems almost tough on the older son: there are no words of comfort other than, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." This doesn't seem to be what the older son wants to hear: it doesn't focus on his jealousy at all. He has been feeling robbed by his brother's good fortune. There's not even a follow-up to say how he responded to his father's words. It's like a painting where the artist draws you out of the frame by having one of the depictions look out at you; the final words are for us, the congregation of here and now: "It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found."

Now that I think on it some more, this story's placement at the beginning of Lent is a good warning to keep your eyes on your own paper: you don't know what her spiritual father's dietary recommendations are; you don't know his struggle to do as much as he does. Concentrating on your own journey, retracing your steps to the Father in humble repentance is the example held up with the consequence of an invitation to the Feast of Feasts. Don't get stuck on the back porch, moping that "he got more than I did." Your Father is waiting, looking down the road, ready to start the preparations for rejoicing as soon as you come in sight.

Looking Forward to Lent

2007-01-29T13:20:00.000-05:00

I think it was last year when Fr. Seraphim, hearing someone deplore how long it would take until Pascha came around again, said, "How come nobody looks forward to Great Lent?"

Since then, I've been thinking about fasting off and on. Well, thinking, off and on, about fasting.

Today's thought was that I am, in fact, looking forward to Great Lent: I won't feel that I *have* to finish the ice cream. My eating will be simpler when meat and dairy are "not an option." I look forward to fewer trips to the grocery store. (Currently, we must go every week for a gallon of milk. Each.) For whatever reason, I remember* that I lose weight during fasting times.

*This may not actually be the case, but it's what I remember anyhow.

So I find myself looking forward to Great Lent: I get to prepare myself. I am giving myself the freedom to be good, to untie my "needs" for meat and dairy. I am challenging myself to accept this freedom graciously instead of being grouchy for lack of "yummy foods." I am allowing myself to be open to humility by being grateful for the foods I will be eating.

Thank God for the Church. I need her strength to even think about doing this. I need those fasting guidelines so I don't try too much and burn out. After re-reading the Orthodoxwiki entry on fasting (which I think I may have actually written), I get to look forward to focusing on prayer, almsgiving, and going to confession. I usually don't (like to) make the time for these at all, never mind that I do myself a favor by following through with them. When I come into the office on Monday, having gone to chapel all weekend makes me better able to face my co-workers in a Christian manner, despite my Alice tendencies. Dn. Virgil usually takes care of the tithing for our family (I help choose where it goes, he tells me how much and writes the checks), but maybe I can convince him that we can push a little beyond the 10% mark (even if it's just adding a dollar to the Sunday collection). Going to confession is something I dread, but I can push that under the self-discipline for which I am striving; currently I am going to the gym (again) and dieting (a little) to lose a little more weight.

Please pray for me so that my fasting diet doesn't include these words.

You don't have to eat your hat

2007-01-27T16:03:00.000-05:00

"Do you want dessert?"
"What?"
"Well, you could have gingerbread pants."

—referring to his half-eaten gingerbread man

Bathroom redecoration (at long last)

2007-01-23T22:48:00.000-05:00

Here are some photos (taken by my husband) of my husband's painting and stenciling job on our bathroom. This entry is dedicated to Lissa and the number e.

Pruning

2007-01-21T20:34:00.000-05:00

Centerpiece

Vassi gave me the advice that I should prune my plants, and that if I cut the basil close to the root, and put the stalk in a glass of water, it would put out roots and I could replant the stalk. So today I pruned and now have a pretty centerpiece for our table from the trimmings, and have attempted two re-rootings of the basil to use up some more vases.

Cleaning and Baklava

2007-01-20T12:35:00.000-05:00

A little garden on our bedroom windowsill.

In about twenty minutes, Vassi will head over and start teaching me to make baklava. (This is part of the payment for the railing down the hill to the lower married student housing parking lot; Southeast Railing donated much of it, but the owner said he would like that one Greek pastry with the honey and nuts.)

Some preparations for baklava.

In preparation, we obviously needed to clean the kitchen ... rather drastically, since there will be at least two people working in there and there's almost no counter space. Also, about a week or two ago, we (okay, I) decided (it was necessary) to rearrange the living room. Following FlyLady's ideals, I decided it wouldn't be worth my time to rearrange the clutter. I went through (with Dn. Virgil's help) several boxes, pulling things out of drawers (where I'd thrown them for unannounced company, or when I was tired of looking at them). I got rid of 5 boxes' worth of unecessary papers.* We still have more to go (which were unearthed today), but it's wonderfully liberating, and now there's room.

*If you don't have answers to things like: "Why am I keeping two copies of Notre Dame commencement exercise booklets wherein there are three names of people I know?" then you are allowed to get rid of it. Even then, it was still hard. I'm *good* at keeping.

We turned Dn. Virgil's desk around, moved mine into the corner (previously storage) with the (so lovely!**) filing cabinet. The couch went where my desk went. The comfy chair and ottoman went where the couch was, opening up the icon corner.

** Yes, I'm a dork, but it was a great Christmas present, and I can have an "away" in which to put things!

Top left: Dn. Virgil's corner; top right: my corner; bottom right: couch; bottom left: our new "mail station"; center: comfy chair and framed Panagia icon sketch (by the teacher of last summer's iconography class).

Dn. Virgil has been fully on board, cleaning the kitchen and his corner looks amazing. He's taken out lots of trash (although I was out the door first, having followed (again) FlyLady's advice on getting dressed to lace-up shoes). He clarified the bookshelves in the living room, and taken loads of things downstairs to storage (ready for the move or to be sorted later after further consideration). Also this past week, he's prepared my first computer (Cicero) to be given away by moving all the files and miscellany onto his computer and checking the 3.5" disks (you know, in case I need old papers from classes I don't even remember). I'm not emotionally ready to give away my old computer, but I'm not using it, and someone else may need it, and I don't want to have to move it.

Also this morning, when Dn. Virgil was taking out a towel to shake out on the balcony, we saw deer (he saw six, and I got a picture of one on the camera and saw three at a time) moving through the woods.

My "shot" of a deer.

----
Later: The baklava has been layered and is in the fridge, cooling. All the cleaning and baking involved lots of standing, and I am thus exhaustifyied.

Pop-Tart, anyone?

2007-01-15T13:03:00.000-05:00

Remember how I said that R had retired and was replaced by K? L has given her two weeks' notice. C, who had replaced D (the temp), is now training to be L's replacement. I feel like I'm playing Scrabble. That's all.

Solving Again

2007-01-13T22:57:00.000-05:00

Well, I didn't blog yesterday, despite my good intentions. E was sick the entire week (after having vacationed the week previously); R is now retired, replaced by K; D, the temp, has gone, and is replaced by C. Since L took Thursday off, and doesn't work Fridays, that made me the senior office person, who somehow had to fill in on lots of things which aren't actually my job.* So I was putting out lots of fires on Friday: finishing owner-contractor paperwork for a job in Pennsylvania which is starting up, which involved wrangling scanner software (on L's slower-than-dirt computer, involving opening files at my computer, going to L's, going back to mine to close them so I could open them on L's ...) into doing what I wanted with the PDFs and then figuring out a way to email a 27MB file to someone who can't accept attachments larger than 4MB (there are sites for that), and then finding out I had something wrong on page 14, emailing just that page and finding I emailed the wrong version; setting up travel arrangements (for T and W it was easy - just the hotel; for J it was a month's worth of air [which I'd done] and car [which I'd been walked through but hadn't done before]; for D it was hotel [which I'd never looked at before and the people at the hotel didn't have the paperwork we had faxed to them so I was scurrying through E's files trying to find a missing page to the application]); my sister called and let me talk to little M who gabbled at me on the phone for a bit; the owner wanted lunch ordered, so I needed to walk C do that [find the menu with phone for the place next door, have her call, a fax machine answers twice, get money out of petty cash, have her walk over and place the order [while I cover the phones]...); have K go to lunch without telling me; have C announce that she's going to lunch (I have seniority, why don't I get dibs on when I go to lunch? or at least get asked...); when I get to lunch (around 2, although I've changed my 'usual' lunchtime to 1), I go out and hide in the car with blessed silence for an hour (also Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman—got it for V, but he was reading something else, so I started to re-read it), and come back to find that T and the owner had been looking for me; get to walk across the street to retrieve mail (no company name, and the correct address for us, not for across the street!?); and all this while I sit at my desk in the middle of the room, with all the guys in (at 4 they took a break to go into the conference room *right* next to my desk and drink beer [what can I say? it's a construction company]), so it's horrendously loud and forget about G-rated conversation—I'm just lucky that not all of it is on cell phones right next to my desk, pacing back and forth, making my speakers go all loud and crackly and swearing up, right, and middle. And no, I'm not about to tell the owner of the company to back off, sit down, and clean up his language.

*It would be nice, sometime, to have an actual idea of what my job is and what it is not, but unless I set those limits, I doubt that will happen with this company. Right now my job is to do what I'm told, and to keep doing those things which are my responsibility. Meh.

And I forgot saving the day for B of the railing company [yes, the railing is finally up and today we got what I think was our first compliment, now that the weather warrants a railing for that incline] who came by and needed his invoice thingy fixed, which of course I volunteered to do because I have no sense and thought my day was slowing down [cue manical, ironic laughter] and, well, he's a nice guy and I haven't gotten around to giving him the promised baklava. (Did I mention he donated quite a bit of the railing, nevermind all the good advice he gave which we ignored and he patiently regave when we ran into the problems he thought we'd run into?)

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My new year's resolutions (why not?):
* Go to church every Sunday. (So far, so good. Well, you know. One at a time.)
Maintain correspondence. (E-mailing Miriam, calls with sister.)
* Blog weekly. (Aiming for Friday, barring another like this one, at which point I think I'll move to Australia.)
* Lose weight. (Just throwing the idea around. My actions, like tonight's heaping bowl of three flavors of ice cream with extra cookies thrown in, may not be helping. But the idea's there. So this will probably mean acceding to the husbandly "Let's go to the gym, shall we? Pretty please?")
* Be good to my husband. (See above.)

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Also this week, I recovered much of Dn. Virgil's old wiki and put it on his new wiki.

I beat Dn. Virgil at Robo Rally*, my favorite board game, second only to Siedler. Which someone romantically gave me for Christmas after we decided to have a shared wishlist using google docs. I realized that trying to beat a computer programmer at a programming-based game was not necessarily a realistic goal. He beat me, badly, the first time. Well, badly for me. However, the second time he went for flag 4 without having touched flag 3 (he himself had placed the flags), so I had a large enough victory.

*Rad!

We tried going to the Dedham Choral whatsit on Wednesday, but have mostly decided not to go back. They were nice, and it was okay, but not quite what I was hoping for. (Although that's a bit unfair, since they could hardly have been expected to have Dan Stowe for the director.) Also, my mother had spoiled me by getting the "new Vivaldi" cd, which pretty much sours you for sight-reading music in a non-Stowe choral ensemble, I'd think. And the jewel case is missing (suspicions directed husband-ward) and we haven't seen his scarf (hand-knitted by me!) since that rehearsal.

We also were taken to dinner by Dn. V's co-worker at a lovely place on Friday night, and still have leftovers to finish up.

---

Prayers requested for:
* Mary Catherine
* Theodore
* David
* Joseph
* Mercedes
and their caretakers, especially Catherine and Carol.
It seems like my family's falling apart. Oh, well, I have a date tomorrow morning at which I'll address many of these grievances with Someone in High Places. (Can you tell I've been reading too much Terry Pratchett?) Cheers!

Fall Choir Concert 2006

2007-01-05T14:38:00.000-05:00

On December 7 we had our choir concert. Either the night before or at the warm-up practice just prior to the performance we changed the unofficial "HC/HC Chorale" to the "Deacon's Singers."

Program(me)s of the concert include quite a bit of background information and translations, and are available upon request. Mugur took a DVD of the concert itself, which is pretty nice except for the zooming into giant heads, and, of course, any footage of me.

A brief synopsis of our concert:

Iată, vin colindători! (arr. Tiberiu Brediceanu)
Contrapunto Bestiale Alla Mente (Adriano Banchieri)
L’Ultimo Dì de Maggio (Sebastian Festa)
Der Abend (Johannes Brahms)
Georgian Wedding Hymn (Psalm 44:8-10)
Heavenly Light (Alexander Kopylov, arr. Peter J. Wilhousky, English text by Alice Mattullath)
Jesus Christ, the Apple Tree (Elizabeth Poston )
Lullay My Liking (Gustav Holst)
Pastime with Good Company (King Henry VIII of England)
My Lord, What a Mornin’! (Negro Spiritual, arr. 1924 Henry Thacker Burleigh)

Diana Eynon provided accompaniment for Der Abend, and when she was attending rehearsals, we stole her as an alto and as a conductor. Mari conducted the rest of the pieces, and is purely responsible for my smiling the entire way through the concert. (Her idea of making sure people's eyes are watching her conduct is to make faces.)

I had my first choral-related vocal solo (that is, first vocal solo aside from recitals from voice lessons), which was both exciting and terrifying, especially in consideration of the fact that I never managed to practice the solo outside of rehearsals.

It went well enough that we were invited to attend the campus Christmas party the next evening and perform some of our Christmas-y selections there. While we were up, it was decided that we would lead the general carolling. Which was unfair. We had a giant group of screaming children right in front of us, only to be appeased if we started singing the song they wanted (Rudolph and, ironically, Silent Night are all I remember). Also, since Vickie couldn't make it for this encore performance, Virgil sung her solo and had his first solo.

Christmas 2006

2007-01-05T09:51:00.000-05:00

This year, Christmas was on a Monday, leading for a pleasant weekend.

On Friday, I took the day off. I went to church in the morning for the Christmas Hours. Afterwards, I stayed for confession with Fr. Philip. Then I went home for Virgil and we went west to get passport photos of me taken (for my passport renewal application), have the car inspected, and grocery shopping. Christmas grocery shopping.

On Saturday, we had baking. I was in a snippy mood and, I think, pretty much stayed in bed reading all day. Dn. Virgil slaved away in the kitchen for about eight hours. I did come out of my cave to help in a plumbing emergency* and to stir the kolache mixture. We ended up with eleven loaves of cozonac (pl. "cozonaci" sounds like "cozonach" with a "ch" like in "cheese") and some kolaches.

*We've decided not to use the garbage disposal for eggshells. At least, not when using a recipe which calls for 36 eggs. Never mind additional eggs for the kolaches.

On Sunday after we got home from church in Arlington, we had cooking. We made a couple of kinds of sausage which I can't pronounce but I can definitely eat, and schnitzel (or rather, şniţel, since this kind is Romanian). My job was keeping the counters clean, providing lots of plates (unbeaten, unbattered, uncooked, and uneaten—all separated), and beating the heck out of lots of chicken. Yep. You need heckless chicken for şniţel.

Our Sneakiness Nears Its End

2006-08-07T23:28:00.000-04:00

Fr. P leased a house a few days before he left to rejoin his family (wife, five children) in Greece. He was explaining as we picked him up for the airport that he hadn't had enough time to set things up, but he wanted the house to be ready for his wife. So I finagled a key from him.

Since he's been gone, we've had quite a few weekends of attacking his house. Copious spiders, a dearth of instructions on an Ikea bunk bed, and incredibly gunky cabinet-tops have not stopped us. (Us including Peterbird and at least six other individuals on various occasions.)

He's returning this week, so hopefully there will be time to acquire lightbulbs, shower curtain devices, and enough food to put in the fridge for at least one meal for everyone. This has been a lot of fun, and reminds me of an article in Boundless: "Those neighbors were constantly looking for opportunities to serve this young woman — and their efforts paid off. When they shared the gospel, she listened." Having this opportunity to actively work at doing good for someone else was nourishing somehow.

Speaking of nourishing, everyone keeps telling me how thin I am now (that I've lost almost 20 pounds). I don't think I'm accepting their compliments very generously, instead taking this as an opportunity to complain about how hungry and tired I am all the time.

I am hesitant to say that work is getting easier, because I have three jobs to report on (online) on the tenth, and I'm supposed to have five, but if the governmental people don't set up those other two jobs, there's really nothing I can do about that... But I'm slowly chipping away at collecting the pieces of paper I need, and assembling the numbers into nice little cells and formulae. And then I come home and try to play as much Sims 2 before and after gym. I'm not ignoring my husband if he's busy doing Greek homework, right? And I found out how to download the priest clothing and career track Zohreh mentioned (modthesims2.com).

In other news, I am wretchedly icky after a full two-hour workout (even I am impressed), and will now go to rectify that. Then for the sleep, o the lovely sleep. I think God did a really good job with that whole concept. I will carry this digressive conversation with myself away from the keyboard now.

Telephony

2006-08-04T15:00:00.000-04:00

I hate the telephone. I don't like talking on the telephone, because it seems like I never know what to say. So I'm horrible about calling people back, especially for personal things, like keeping in touch with my sister. (Work is another matter; I have purposes to call for.)

My sister, however, likes to talk on the phone. And she has decided that when I'm at work, I'm fair game if I'm not too busy. And she puts little nephew B and little niece M on the phone. They fight over who gets to talk to Aunty Maig. M is in her shrieking phase, especially if B might possibly want to take the phone away from her. B, on the other hand, wants the blue chair that M was sitting on. Fortunately there are two phones.

Earlier this week I got to talk to B. He made me an "M" on wheels. I am so blessed. I think I might like talking on the phone now.

July 2006

2006-07-25T08:47:00.000-04:00

I'm just keeping ahead of exhaustion.

L at work is due with her second child ... soon. I'm filling in for her, and D, from a temp agency, is filling in for me. I try to pretend my job is like a computer game, with people (the project managers) throwing challenges at me. It's a bit intimidating when they come out of a meeting, having been out of the office most of last week, and offer me a deluge of paper with which to cope. Fortunately, rather than panic, I am comfortable enough to accept it and take notes, and then work like mad to keep up before the next round. (I'm behind at the moment, but not too far.)

Peterbird (Dn. Peterbird?) and I went to Home Depot the other day to get some spray-in insulation and tape (evidently the former is messy) to fill in the gap (significant draft) between the wall and the floor. And we ran into a fellow student who works in the paint department. He showed us some neat things, and Peterbird mentioned we were thinking of painting our apartment. So now our bathroom is a nice, cool lavender with stenciled flowers and a border. My contributions include nagging and unscrewing the bath accessories and staying out of the way.

Still going to the gym and all that. Haven't done as well recently, but I'm just barely hanging in there.

Saturday was my nameday, and since I couldn't take Monday (our anniversary) off, we celebrated them both together. On Friday night, Fr. Raphael had a vigil for St. Mary Magdalene. I wanted to like it more than I did, but I made it through the whole vigil. (Having "bedtime" be around 10 o'clock isn't always as useful as it may at first appear.) On Saturday, we slept in to ... 9 o'clock. (That's irony, i.e., not really sleeping in.) There were chocolate-chip pancakes. Then we went to Fr. Costin's house and played with people there. Dn. Virgil and Fr. Costin went to a twin-baptism, and when they came back there was something that seemed like ice-cream cake. Another Romanian family (with two more adorable little girls) came to play, and I don't know whether they were celebrating my second nameday or our second anniversary, but they sang something happy in Romanian and we had more tasty things to eat. We watched a Jackie Chan movie and came home.

Monday was tough, and today looks like it might be a good day to try to get more things done.

Incensed

2006-06-26T22:09:00.000-04:00

There is nothing like running to chapel because you hear the censer, and coming in the door and seeing your husband's face light up as he turns back to cense you in particular.

ND Reunion

2006-06-14T10:57:00.000-04:00

Lissa, Gabi's mother, took some wonderful pictures at the ND Alumni Reunion weekend. (This was the same weekend as the ordination; my parents had already planned to be there, and asked that we request that weekend for the ordination since they'd already be in town.) There are four pictures with Andronaches identifiable, one elbow, and a picture of Gabi at St. Andrew. (My favorite is the soccer picture: I don't know who looks more thrilled: Virgil or Gabi.)

I'm so glad we were able to see as many people as we did, but I sure do miss going to the pastaria and being very very silly.

First Liturgy as Deacon

2006-06-13T10:58:00.000-04:00

As soon as we told Father Andrew (of St. Vasilios, Dn. Virgil's spiritual father in Boston) about Virgil's upcoming ordination, he insisted on the privilege of having the new deacon serve his first Liturgy as a deacon at St. Vasilios. So Sunday there was the ordination, Monday was driving back, and Tuesday found us at St. Vasilios for Liturgy.

	Fr. Andrew censes the iconostasis before the beginning of Liturgy.
	Fr. Andrew blesses Dn. Virgil before they start the Liturgy.
	Dn. Virgil offers the petitions before Christ.
	The deacon beseeches Christ on behalf of the Church.
	The further petitions are offered before the Theotokos.
	Dn. Virgil and I have been attending St. Vasilios, his parish assignment, on many Sundays throughout the past two years.
	Dn. Virgil receives the Gospel book from Fr. Andrew during the Small Entrance.
	As the deacon raises the Gospel book, the clergy chant, "Come, let us worship and bow before Christ. Save us, O Son of God who arose from the dead, we who sing to You: Alleluia!" which the congregation repeats.
	"Σοφία. Πρόσχωμεν!" Before the reading of the epistle, the deacon proclaims: "Wisdom. Attend!"
	In the Orthodox Church, only clergy read the Gospel within the usual celebration of the Liturgy.
	For the Great Entrance, the Gifts are carried by the clergy. When there are many people in the altar, the altar boys precede the Gifts with fans (exapteriga), candles, and a cross; additional deacons precede with candles, and additional priests follow the Gifts with the spear or spoon (used during the prothesis). Here, Fr. Andrew censes as Dn. Virgil and Fr. Costin process bearing the Gifts. [N.B. I could not take any more pictures during the Great Entrance because I was too in awe—it was almost too beautiful for me to breathe.]
	Before they commune, the clergy, one by one, stand before the people and ask forgiveness for their sins and bow from the Royal Gates.
	The clergy commune in the altar before the Gifts are offered to the people. They stand at the left of the altar, receive the Body in their hands, consume it as they walk around the altar, and approach from the left to drink the Blood from the cup. In this picture, Dn. Virgil is consuming the precious Body.
	Because it is the Body of Christ, Dn. Virgil makes sure to take every particle from the antimension before the Gifts are offered to the people.
	The congregation says additional prayers of preparation for Communion as the chanters sing, "Praise the Lord from the heavens; praise Him in the highest. Alleluia."
	In the Orthodox Church, the Body and Blood are placed together in the cup, and the congregants commune with a spoon. Here, Dn. Virgil holds the veiled cup and brings it to the Royal Gates.
	"With fear of God, faith, and love, draw near!" Dn. Virgil invites the people to commune of the Body and Blood.
	The servant of the Lord, Deacon Virgil, offers the holy Gifts to the holy people of God. Fr. Andrew held the bowl of antidoron and Fr. Costin held the communion cloth (to ensure that no particle of the Gifts is dropped); these duties are usually given to acolytes, but it was a moving symbol of their love for Dn. Virgil
	The clergy and people give thanks to God.
	Fr. Andrew and Dn. Virgil lead the prayers of dismissal.
	As the clergy pray, the cantors sing softly, "Unto the one who blesses us and sanctifies us with God's grace, Lord, keep him in Your care, many years unto him."
	The recently ordained deacon is accepted here, too, with the acceptance and blessing: "AXIOS!" By our cries of 'Axios,' we are giving approval as members of the faithful, saying, "Yes, we agree that this person be ordained to serve God, the Church, and us. We will accept his prayers and his blessings. We will accept his ministry."¹
	Fr. Andrew congratulates Dn. Virgil, while Fr. Costin beams. Awwww.
	After the congregation departed for the coffee hour, the clergy remain in the altar to consume the rest of the Gifts and remove their vestments.
	Before I realized just how long the post-liturgical altar things would take, I enjoyed the beautiful iconography of the church. This is the icon of Christ, Pantokrator (the ruler of all) at St. Vasilios.
	Fr. Andrew, Dn. Virgil, and Fr. Costin. We managed to capture our clergy and take pictures after the coffee hour, provided by Philoptochos. (Philoptochos is everywhere, taking care of us!)

Ordination to the Diaconate

2006-06-10T00:49:00.001-04:00

Virgil's ordination to the diaconate was held at St. Andrew Greek Orthodox Church in South Bend, IN, on June 4, 2006. Please let me know if you have any questions about what goes on in these pictures.

	Stefan holds the dikirion on Metropolitan Iakovos' left, and Dn. Vasili holds the trikera to his right as they say the preparatory prayers before Orthros.
	Fr. Alexios, Fr. George, and Fr. Dean (holding the dikirion) receive the blessing from Metropolitan Iakovos. Magda, George, Hristos, and Catherine are at the chant stand. Dn. Vasili holds the trikirion and an open book. I think at this point we were just beginning the Liturgy.
	Metr. Iakovos blesses Virgil's head. Fr. Dean is on the left, Dn. Vasili is holding the trikirion. George, Hristos, and Catherine are semi-visible at the chanter's stand. Virgil is wearing the white hitona (to symbolize the purity of the one who is about to serve the Lord) and carries the pitcher and basin with which to wash the bishop's hands. This is the beginning of the ordination to subdiaconate; Virgil had already been tonsured a reader years ago.
	Fr. George reads the symmartyria from Fr. Andrew (of St. Vasilios, Sdn. Virgil's spiritual father at school) in both English and Greek. The symmartyria is a letter from one's spiritual father indicating that one is an acceptable candidate for ordination.* Fr. Andrew later said that he was happy to be at the ordination through the symmartyria, though he could not attend in person. *I've noticed that there are many people who find my blog by searching for "symmartyria." If you need an example of one in Greek or English, email me.
	Metr. Iakovos was given the choice of a heavy crystal pitcher-and-bowl or a light steel set. Naturally, he picked the crystal. In his day, they were this big! as he told us at the luncheon afterwards.
	One of the duties of a subdeacon is to wash the bishop's hands. Sdn. Virgil washes Metr. Iakovos' hands as Fr. George, Fr. Dean, and Dn. Vasili look on. After this, Metr. Iakovos flicked the water from his hands onto Sdn. Virgil's face.
	Dn. Vasili helps Sdn. Virgil with the pitcher and basin while Metr. Iakovos dries his hands. Frs. Alexios, George, and Dean look on.
	After Metr. Iakovos dried his hands, he placed the towel on Sdn. Virgil's head. Still holding the basin and pitcher, Sdn. Virgil is led to Christ by Fr. Alexios and Fr. Dean. The icon of Christ is still decorated from Pascha because the white cloth looked so nice.
	Time for prayer: as the candidate stands in front of the icon of Christ, he should recite the 50th Psalm, some hymns from the ninth hour, and other penitential prayers. He will remain in front of the icon of Christ through the Small Entrance and the readings of the epistle and Gospel.
	The clergy and the altar boys, having come out through the north deacon's door (second from the left, with Archangel Michael), process with the Gospel book for the Small Entrance, pausing to sing hymns in front of the Royal Doors. After this, the epistle is read, and then the Gospel is read. For this Liturgy, the Gospel was read in Greek by Dn. Vasili and in English by Fr. Dean.
	The next procession from the north deacon's door (still open in this picture) is called the Great Entrance. The clergy bear the bread and wine which will be offered as the Eucharist. For hierarchical Divine Liturgies, the bishop stays within the altar to receive the Gifts. The candidate for ordination follows the priests who bear the covered chalices. Dn. Vasili has the aer draped over his shoulders.
	After the Great Entrance, the candidate for ordination is set before the icon of the Theotokos to pray until it is time to ordain him.
	During the confession of the Creed, Metr. Iakovos kisses the altar as Fr. Dean and Fr. George shake the aer gently over the Gifts. This shaking was originally to keep flies and dirt away from the Holy Gifts. Dn. Vasili stands in front of the Royal Doors.
	Sdn. Virgil is led forward by Fr. Dean and Fr. George to Metropolitan Iakovos at the Royal Doors.
	Metr. Iakovos asks whether Sdn. Virgil is willing to accept this ordination, and whether he has anything he would like to say.
	Metr. Iakovos prays over Sdn. Virgil. There is an altar boy prostrating himself on the left, and Dn. Vasili kneeling, head bowed, on the right.
	Metr. Iakovos and Dn.(?) Virgil. The latter is still wearing his hitona.
	Metr. Iakovos bestows the vestments on Dn. Virgil. We borrowed from Fr. Gregory, who is no longer a deacon. Evidently, he and Dn. Virgil are exactly the same size!
	Dn. Vasili secures the right cuff (epimanikia) and Fr. Dean the left as they vest Dn. Virgil, who already wears the sticharion. The prayers of vesting are beautiful.

When the priest or deacon puts on the sticharon, he says: "My soul shall rejoice in the Lord, for He hath clothed me in the garment of salvation and with the vesture of gladness hath He covered me (Is. 61:10). In putting on the epimanika or cuffs, first on the right hand and then on the left, he prays: "Thy right hand, O Lord, is glorified in strength; Thy right hand, O Lord, hath vanquished the enemy, and in the multitude of Thy glory hast Thou crushed the adversaries (Ex. 15:6). "Thy hands have made me and fashioned me..." (Ps. 118:73). The cuffs are symbolic of the bonds of Christ and serve as a reminder that a minister of the Church must rely not on his own strength, but on the help of God. ¹

	Dn. Vasili and Fr. Dean assist Dn. Virgil with his orarion.
	Deacon Virgil is now arrayed in the "garments of salvation." ²
	Immediately, the new deacon begins to serve the Church, petitioning God for all good things. (This sounds like a PBS documentary, but, well, that's what happened.)
	Dn. Virgil reads pre-Communion prayers for Metr. Iakovos.
	Virgil now communes as a deacon. My favorite pictures of my husband, the ones which make me choke up they're so beautiful, are those in which I see him receiving the precious Gifts.
	Deacon Virgil holds his orarion patiently. (I mean, it's nothing to the crystal pitcher...)
	Dn. Virgil offers petitions to God on behalf of His people.
	Dn. Virgil awaits the metropolitan.
	Cake at the reception for afterwards. Evidently my mother decided to wander around with the camera.

My next project is to organize the pictures from Dn. Virgil's first Liturgy as a deacon, at St. Vasilios in Peabody, MA, on June 6, 2006.

Ordination Pictures

2006-06-08T23:43:00.000-04:00

The following 57 pictures are meant to be subsumed into one post, described and explained. I figured that people might enjoy them even without the explanations, so I went ahead and posted them, and will organize later.

I have to keep repeating "di-ah-KOH-nee-sa, di-ah-KOH-nee-sa" otherwise I mis-emphasize. I like the Romanian, though: Diaconiţă (di-ah-koh-NEET-sa) which sounds like something with lots of complicated sugar and icing. And I've been introduced to the misspelling "Deaconesse" which sounds like some cream-filled pastry.

Back to putting rocks in my husband's shoes so he stays on the ground instead of walking a few feet above it ...

Humbly yours,
Dna. Magda

*Update June 13, 2006: pictures from the ordination and first liturgy as a deacon are now organized into two posts.

Annunciation Church in Pensacola

2006-06-08T19:20:00.000-04:00

For Holy Week and Pascha, Virgil and I went to the Annunciation Church in Pensacola, Florida. The church was beautiful.

Ordination pictures from this past weekend are coming up after the gym this evening. I hope. So, you know... hum something until I get back.

Weighty Levity

2006-05-18T22:33:00.000-04:00

Or something. I have a book on my desk entitled Chickens Chickens Chickens, therefore I beg to be excused from things like intelligent thought.

I am a nerd. I think that the best thing about losing weight (besides, you know, feeling better and being able to wear your own clothes without going shopping) is math. Also, when I am at the gym, I weigh in at the beginning and end of my workout (to see how much drinking water and sweating actually affect my weight short-term is interesting), and I write down my weight in hexadecimal.

Oh, and I'm in love with a math-involving "killer" sudoku.

Further radness: Discovering Chef! on DVD at the library.

Back to weight: I lost a pound since yesterday, and am convinced it was because I had two pieces of (yum) chicken pizza for lunch today. Virgil seems as skeptical of this as I am of the Da Vinci Code plot. (Reading Khouria Frederica's review as I blog, and want to know who so perfectly expressed my own reaction: "...the book is so ahistorical that she had to pretend it was a sci-fi work about alternative reality to get through.") However, Virgil did point out that after working out mostly for 5 weeks, I've lost 6 pounds.

In chapel today, Archbishop Demetrios, after he put the crosses on the alumni who graduated 50 and 25 years ago, called one priest forward and held up the priest's hand. Apb. Demetrios invited everyone to look at this hand, and ponder how many thousands of times it had touched the body of Christ, and how many thousands of times it anointed with oil, and how many thousands of times it had blessed people.