Remember when, if you made an airline reservation and then couldn't make it for the trip, you could sell your plane tickets to someone else? And they could use them, without bringing out the whole swat team? It was no big deal. I miss those days.

Today I realized that the tickets I bought for a trip we're making a week from today were for 8:50 pm, rather than 8:50 am, as I'd intended to buy them for. I felt like an idiot! It doesn't work for us to travel later, as we already have to be late.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, this weekend is the biggest weekend for our church in, well, a hundred years! Really! We're celebrating our centennial at Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church in Portland, Oregon. That's a lot of years, and it's a big deal! We have a full weekend ahead of us. The choir has been practicing extra hard since January. My dear husband has been going, going, going. And you know, when he's busy, I'm busy. It all starts on Friday evening, when both the Archbishop and the Metropolitan (two types of bishops) arrive, and we'll kick off the weekend with a Glendi (big Greek dance party) and the opening of the new cultural center. Saturday we have an ecumenical doxology service, then a youth ralley where both bishops will be with the kids at Camp Angelos, and then the big banquet, celebrating these 100 years and toasting to the next 100. On Sunday we'll have the big church service, with the two bishops and 9 other clergy members. The choir has been working on music for that Sunday--some that's old (as in the old Desby music that used to be used in all the churches) and some that's new (some pieces were commissioned just for our choir!). It's all very exciting! In the afternoon and evening there will be a couple of events that are not open the public but Paul and I will be attending.

And after this is all over, there is a clergy couples retreat in Monterey. I can't think of a time when we'll need it more, but I wish we didn't have to miss the beginning of it, as it starts on Sunday, and there's no way we could have made it then!

So, that's where the plane tickets came in. I wanted to leave as early as possible on Monday morning, but not so early that poor Paul would have to miss his beauty sleep after this big weekend. So I scheduled our flight for 8:50. I thought it was am, but it was pm. And it cost more to change it than it did to just buy one-way tickets on another carrier. So, I am $220 poorer and reminding myself to *look at the details, dummy!*

But next week at this time, we'll have celebrated our brains out and we'll be relaxing on the beach in California. Ah, life is good.

Weird Happenings

We've had several weird things happen in the last couple of days, yesterday being the weirdest day.

First, Hibi took a long walk. When she called me (yes, I've just bought her a cell phone--and though I never thought I would do that, I'm glad I did!) she was almost two miles from home. She told me that she was just walking, and a man came up to her and asked, "where are you going?" And she said "I'm just walking." He then handed her a twenty dollar bill and walked off! Bizarre. Of course, all my mama bells were going off when I heard this, and when we tried to call her a few minutes later and she didn't answer, Paul rushed over to pick her up. Of course she was fine (and $20 richer)--she just hadn't heard the cell phone ring because she was walking on a busy street. I have no idea what to make of what happened. I guess just someone being nice? Random acts of kindness? Seems to Paul and me that we'd rather someone had practiced acts of kindness in a slightly different way.

She'd been home for not very long, and I was in the basement, when Paul called down that he had heard gunshots. 7 or 8 of them, he said. He walked in the direction he'd heard them from, and some people on the corner had looked up when they heard the shots and two teenagers were running away. It took the police quite a while to get to the right place--even though Paul had called 911 and told them where it had happened, they still were all over the place. Finally they found the right place and they taped off the area. I haven't heard anything more about it...nothing in today's paper or online. This happened one block from our house.

The next weird happening is just ironic, since we recently watched Little Miss Sunshine. Paul and I watched it without kids first, because we'd heard from some sources that it's "definitely not for kids!" But it was definitely the kind of humor that we enjoy and I vote the ending scene as one of the best scenes in moviemaking history. It was painful and hilarious, totally inappropriate and totally apropos at the same time. So, I thought carefully about whether my kids would be comfortable watching it. It is littered with the f word, so if you're uncomfortable with that, don't watch! And the grandfather is your classic dirty old porn-ogling man, but loveable in his own way. And I thought, no violence, and no actual sex scenes (though you do see some of the porn the grandfather enjoys, it is quite mild). If you can handle all these caveats I highly recommend it!

Anyway, the movie's main character is a little girl who is competing in a little girls' beauty pageant. And what's ironic is that Hibi received an invitation in the mail today to compete in a "young miss" beauty pageant! When I showed it to her, she was dumbfounded for a few seconds. And then she became a paper shredder who wants to shred the paper into as many pieces as she possibly can.

I sure have a good 13 year old.

what the chickens are up to now

Close up of Thelma, Louise, and Fallujah's tail.

This is Nigella, nesting. The end product of nesting chickens is....

This! Beautiful, huh? They taste wonderful, too.
From left to right: Mama Bear, Punky, Thelma, Louise, and Fallujah. (I've nicknamed Fallujah LuLu. :-) They're feasting on leftover pizza and salad. (Sorry, no beer with that, ladies!)

I thought it was about time I got out and took a bunch of pictures of my chickens and inflicted--I mean shared them with you. So here you go! Next up (as far as pictures go): I've finally got my Project Mexico pictures on the computer, so hopefully in the next week or so I'll get a post on that up.

102!

I forgot to mention here (gee, I must be recovering from two very busy weeks!) that my grandmother turned 102 yesterday! I can hardly believe her longevity. A commenter on ArielleJuliana's blog said that she thinks we're more like our grandmothers than our mothers. I hope I have the aging old and graceful gene that my grandmother has!

John McCutcheon

Now that I have my tickets, I can tell you to go get yours. ;-) John McCutcheon is coming to town again! He's good for a wonderful, warm evening of great music and political humor. JM is a very down-to-earth guy and comes up with wonderfully creative lyrics, some that will leave you rolling in the aisle laughing and some that will bring tears to your eyes.

He'll be performing on April 22 at 7 pm.

He's at the Aladdin Theater this year. Last year he performed at the Hollywood Theatre, which I love....but they've got to do something about their sound system. I've noted before that it needs help. But during the second half of John's concert, suddenly there was a high-pitched loud squeal that left me wondering if there was something weird going on. Thank goodness it was *just* the sound system, but it did freak me...and him...out.

Anyway, go to the Aladdin Theater's website and buy tickets. Better yet, to avoid Ticketmaster's price-gouging, go to the theater in person and buy them. Ticketmaster's handling fee is $5, where if you pay by cash or check at the theater they only charge $1 each ticket. I never understood handling fees at the box office though....why wouldn't that be included? It's not something you can avoid.

Oh, yeah, and if you don't live in Portland, check his website for when he'll be in your area.

That weekend promises to be an interesting one, as we're also attending the first annual Life is Good unschooling conference. Looking forward to the whole thing!

Christ is Risen!

This is the greeting that we Orthodox Christians say over and over, sing a multitude of times, and celebrate, starting on Pascha (Easter) which was yesterday, the same day as the Western Easter this year, until we celebrate the Ascension of Christ in 40 days from Pascha.

I just read an amazingly accurate description of Holy Week and Pascha online, and then realized at the end of it that it was written by the wife of Tom Hanks, Rita Wilson. He married a Greek woman and became Orthodox himself and we even hear from the priest at his church that they do attend with some regularity.

We had a beautiful celebration yesterday and will continue to celebrate throughout the season. And today I had a nice lie-in....I'm exhausted! Mexico and then Holy Week really took it out of me.

Egg Sting!

Ha! I caught her red-winged! ;-)

I'd been kind of wondering about Punky the Golden Laced Polish Crested hen. It seemed that all the other hens (except for Fallujah...hmm...) have been laying eggs. But I hadn't seen any of Punky's. And she's just skittish enough that I thought she'd be a prime candidate for hiding her eggs. I've had experience with this....(I almost wrote "eggsperience" but thought that'd be too tacky)...my chickens when we lived in rural California had the run of the place and could roam as far as they wanted. I'd find eggs in pretty far-flung places, and I'm pretty sure there are some we never found. But here, we're in a residential area. They mostly stay in the backyard. I'd looked all over the back, and didn't ever find anything. There's not a whole lot of places she could hide them.

But I did notice that sometimes she'd disappear and then come back.

When we got home from Mexico, our very observant neighbor who watched them for us said, "She's a fence-hopper! She likes to go over your back fence and hang out in the blackberry bushes!" Hmm...a clue. So, I started watching. I sure didn't want to hop the fence myself and wade through the prickly blackberries. That would hurt! But I just watched. Today when Punky went missing, I had the time and the inclination, so I just staked out the back fence. Just sat there, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. I heard birds singing and felt the nice warm sun. I saw a neighbor cat literally climb the chain-link fence and climb down again. Wow! And at just that moment, Punky hopped right through the little gap between the fence and our neighbor's garage.

So, I went and looked in that area, over the fence....and I'm not sure how I missed them before, because it was pretty close. I just had to stick my head over the fence and look to my right. And right there, by the wall, was a nest of white eggs.

I called for Zac and put my tall rubber boots on him. I put him over the fence and he gathered the eggs carefully. I put the eggs--18 of them!--into the nesting box. Then Zac caught Punky and we put her in there to show her that, hey Punky, *here* is where we lay eggs around here! I put a black X with a pen on each so I know which are the old eggs that have been out for who knows how long. I'll leave them there a couple of days and then compost them. Hopefully Punky'll get the idea!

Thank you for your help, Zachary! You're a good kid.

I'm glad we figured it out now, because hens will sometimes go broody when they get a big enough clutch of eggs. Then they want to sit on them. And I'm not sure I would have found her if she'd done that and I hadn't noticed until it was dark. And she could sit and sit and never hatch any of those infertile eggs.

Pascha Bread and Pascha Cheese

I've had lots of google hits from people looking for recipes for Pascha Bread and Pascha cheese, so I thought I'd repost them on my food blog. Just in case you're interested.

And here's a picture of last year's half-eaten loaf, along with one slice with cheese spread. Yum!

The Power of Music

During Holy Week, Paul pretty much just does services and visitations. He visits shut-ins and people in the hospital. Yesterday he went to visit a woman who is about our age, he said, but who is mentally disabled. She has the mind of about a one year old. The first time he visited her she just sat on the floor and didn't engage with him at all. He's not discouraged by this behaviour, and would have visited her again regardless, but he did have the great idea of bringing his guitar along this time. He said she was the same, not engaging at all, until he brought the guitar out. Then her eyes lit up and she came alive! She came over and participated in the music. She thumped on the top of the guitar, which sounds like a drum, so Paul thought next time he'd like to bring a drum (or several, because the nurses brought 3 other people over when he started playing!) so she could play with him.

I don't know what it is about music, but there is something magical about it. I think even people who are not musically talented feel the power of it. When something moves me deeply, very often it has been accompanied by music. It has a way of transmitting the message you want to convey in a deeply emotional way. I can't think of many religions that don't use music in their worship. It has the power to take us to a different place than our ordinary, daily lives.

It's just too bad we don't often share music in our everyday lives. Paul has never seemed to feel embarrassed to sing in public, just walking down the street, but I think he's an exception. Wouldn't it be great if we all felt comfortable singing to each other, just as we feel comfortable in talking to each other? Tears are another thing that's not very acceptable in public. I wonder if those two go together.

I decided to rest my own singing voice this morning in church, so I can hopefully have some left for the rest of the week. But it just about killed me not to even sing the "kyrie eleisons". Instead, I tried to focus on the beautiful music that was being made by the other chanters.

Holy Wednesday, Chickens, and Garden

As we're in the middle of Holy Week, we are very busy doing nothing but going to church. Church in the morning, church in the evening--each at least 1 1/2 hours, and tomorrow's service is between 3 and 3 1/2 hours long. But we're loving every moment--except for that moment when Zac wakes up and says "I don't want to go to church!" and then he gets over it. :-)

I've been doing my share of chanting for the services--the morning Presanctified services I've been in charge of, with a great group of women helping me. The evening services are bigger, of course, and I've been helping also with the chanting there. The women from the choir came last night and sang the Hymn of Kassiane. But you know what? All that chanting leaves my voice very tired. And again like last year, when I was singing the hymn of Kassiane this morning (we do it for the evening service and the morning service) I couldn't do it without my voice giving out. I was glad for Paul helping me out this year. I'm not sure I'd have gotten through it. It's a long hymn.

Tonight is the Holy Unction service, or the annointing with Holy Oil, or healing service. All the hymns focus on the healing ministry of Christ and the church. At the end we are each annointed with Holy Oil. We pray for the healing of soul and body. Now, we don't try to define how that healing comes, or what specifically it will look like. We come, with the understanding that each of us are wounded people and we need the healing of the church and the community. We need more opportunities to come together for healing, like the Forgiveness Vespers I wrote about at the beginning of Lent.

When we were first thinking about becoming Orthodox, only a few weeks after our first service in the Orthodox church, we came to the Holy Wednesday healing service. I was personally looking very much forward to it for a specific reason: I was in a deep depression that I was in counseling for. I really felt the need for the healing powers of the church, for those prayers, for the people around me to buoy me up and bring me closer to God. When we got to the church, we found that Holy Unction is a sacrament and as such, it is reserved for Orthodox Christians. Since we had not converted yet, we were not allowed to be annointed. We left early because I was so upset about this. There was a power there, something to that oil, that touch, that community. I can understand why it is only for Orthodox Christians, but it was something that I desired at that moment. When we became Orthodox, our priest performed an annointing just for me. And I think of that every Holy Wednesday.
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On to a report on our chickens! While we were in Mexico, we asked a neighbor to take care of the chickens. When we returned, she told us that they laid about 20 eggs while we were gone! That was more eggs than we'd gotten from them the whole time we've had them. And we've been getting two or three a day after that! We are finding out why eggs are such an integral part of Easter (and I believe they are also, maybe not as much, part of the Passover meal). Chickens, as I did not know before I had hens of my own, lay eggs seasonally. In the winter months when there's not much light they slow or stop laying altogether. At this time of year, they begin to pick up with the laying. Thus, if you have eggs this time of year, you add them to your celebration!
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One good Holy Week thing to do, I think, is to weed. Thank goodness for that, we've got lots of....well, not exactly weeds, and we actually inadvertently planted them. Remember when we converted our lawn to garden bed? One of the layers was straw. Or hay. I'm not sure which. But it was the one that has seeds in it. So, we now have zillions of oat plants coming up. Since we don't really care to have a bumper crop of oats (a small amount would be fine, but I really wanted other things too...) we are finding ourselves pulling up little oat grasses. Talk about reaping what you sow. I did some of that today, and also noticed all the plants that are coming up! I need to get out the chart I did for what's planted where, so I can identify all of them, but I think I've got chard and beets, radishes for sure, and basil. Also artichokes and mint and a bit of lettuce. Someone, I can't remember who or even if it was someone who would know, told me that artichokes grow here, but they produce woody flowers that aren't edible. So, they're beautiful but you can't eat them. Which explained why there was an artichoke plant that we'd pass all the time that grew beautiful artichokes, but the owner of them never harvested them, and they went to seed. But I'm not inclined to believe that I can't grow edible artichokes without a try, so I did plant them. Anyone have any more info on that?

Mexico and Holy Week

Hi, everyone....no, I have not dropped off the edge of the world, thank goodness! I just wanted to check in and let you all know that we are *back* from Project Mexico! I meant to post that we were going, but just as I was about to, *someone* said that he needed to use the computer for his book. More on that later!

Project Mexico is an organization that's been building houses for poor families in the Tijuana area since 1988. We got to know Greg and Margaret Yova, the founders, when we were first becoming Orthodox. When they'd been doing the house building for awhile, they realized another need was urgent--housing for orphaned boys in particular, because girls often had other avenues, but the boys often got put out on the streets when they entered their teen years. They now have some 23 or so boys who live there at the orphanage full-time and have become a family.

The orphanage is where we stayed last week, in group housing that is just like the houses that are built for poor families. We had no electricity and though we did have flush toilets, we couldn't flush toilet paper down. One day we had 40 mile per hour winds, which made our work quite difficult. "We" is a group of high schoolers and chaperones from our church who went specifically to do building projects during Spring Break in Mexico.

The work we did: most of the days we stayed on the orphanage and did two projects there. One was building a staircase on a hill that's between the buildings and their recreation area. We were lucky to have someone on our team who does construction and he masterminded the whole thing. I hear it came out beautiful (the kids and I had to leave early because we were driving and wanted to get home for Palm Sunday). The other project was to weed out and plant a hillside that keeps up their soccer field. They are fighting erosion and want iceplant to cover the hillsides. Some had been planted, and some of that had died, and needed a general weeding and second round of planting, which I enjoyed doing.

On Thursday we went out into a colonia, a small town which had lots of varying degrees of poverty evident. Last summer a house had been built by Project Mexico for Javier, Thelma, Monica and Vanessa, and they've moved in, but the house needed stucco outside to weatherproof it. So, that's what we spent the day doing. I don't think I'd ever done stuccoing and I enjoyed it. Also, Hibi and I had found some bilingual storybooks before we left and brought them along. She and I went in and read one of them to the children, and left the books with them as a gift. Late in the day, when only a few workers were needed (including the most skilled among us) I noticed that below us on the hillside there were children who'd evidently just gotten home from school and were coming outside, looking at us, and giggling. I called "Hola!" to them and they replied. We started calling to each other, and eventually they worked up the courage to come up the hill and meet us all. We got out the crafts that the Project Mexico people bring along for just this opportunity and colored with them and played with frisbees and bubbles. I've taken three terms of Spanish classes since last summer, in addition to my two years in high school, and I felt great to be able to converse with the children at least a little.

Thursday was a beautiful warm day, the first one that week, and it was such a perfect day! I felt good that it had turned out so perfect and sad that Hibi and Zac and I were leaving that evening. We wanted to get across the border, since we didn't know how long it might take, so we could keep on schedule for our driving back to Portland. But we left on a good note and are so grateful for the week.

We did a lot of thinking about the subject of "how much does one person need?" I discovered in this week that I really don't need a whole lot. If I have enough to eat, enough sleep, and am warm enough, it is enough. Even the one day when they ran out of coffee we were all fine with the strong tea they offered instead. Hey, a consistently hot shower would have also been welcome, but I did live without it. I hope I can remember the fact that I don't need all this stuff I have around me.

We got back last night, even in spite of having *two* flat tires yesterday, just in time for Holy Week. If you are not Orthodox, and have never been to Holy Week services, I'd encourage you to try it out this week. Holy Week services are way over-the-top in the Orthodox church, but are so beautiful and meaningful. I'd especially recommend the Thursday evening service, but beware that it lasts 3 to 3 1/2 hours. The Friday night service is also sadly sweet, as we sing the lamentations for our saviour who has died, but we know he will rise from the dead even as we sing the mournful hymns. Saturday morning is joyful, as it is actually an Easter service--it used to be the first of the Pascha services (Pascha is the word we use instead of Easter in the Orthodox church) and bay leaves are thrown all over the church! Of course, the crowning moment of the whole church year is Pascha itself, celebrated at a midnight service that usually runs from about 11 pm to anywhere between 1:30 and 4 am, depending on how much of the service your church does. :-) Possibly a more accessible service for those not accustomed to staying up all night is the Agape Vespers on Sunday, in which the gospel is read in as many different languages as we can find people to read it in. All of these are very special services which hold much meaning to me and my family.

A blessed Holy Week to all Christians! Also, a good Passover to my Jewish friends. :-)

Oh, yes, I almost forgot! Paul and his book. Paul has been doing translation work for some three years now. He's translating four of St. Basil's homilies, and has a publisher for the work (St. Vladimir's Press). His deadline was October of 2005.....and obviously he missed it, but now, he is finally done! The homilies focus on poverty and wealth and social justice. He's finished his part and is waiting now for a preface and then he'll send it to the publishers. Woohoo!

And I leave you, at the end of this already long post, with a story. This morning as I watched Zac serve as an altar boy, holding a palm, I was reminded of when he was four years old and we went to church on Palm Sunday. I always brought things to occupy him when he was that age. I usually brought crayons, and usually shied away from markers, because of the quick damage they can cause. But Paul had packed the bag that morning, and he'd put in markers. As I was standing in church, Zac was behind me on the pew. Suddenly I heard a gasp from the people behind me. I looked around at Zac, and he was covering every inch of his hand and continuing up his arm with green marker! "Zachary, what are you doing?" I asked him. He replied in the most joyful voice, "I'm a palm!"

Gender in the Church

Paul and I heard about this book on NPR one night, and Paul knew he had to read it. It's called Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith, written by Barbara Brown Taylor. The author is a former Episcopal priest and wrote of her decision to become a priest and of her decision to leave the priesthood. Paul read it and now I am more than half way through it, thanks to a homeschool Amtrak trip to Seattle. While Hibi and Zac played games with other kids on the train, I had the chance to read, without interruption (or sleepiness, which happens when I read after they go to bed) for maybe 1 1/2 hours. I am enjoying it immensely and I recommend it to anyone who would like to understand some of the issues of ministering to a flock. One thing that really struck me was that the reason she decided to leave the priesthood was not that things were going badly, but just the opposite. Things were going so well, in fact, that she went from having one service on Sunday morning to having four in a pretty short amount of time. There was real ministry going on. And because of that, she was sucked into the life of the church in a way that didn't leave much room for her own self. She talked about having to remind herself of what month it was, what *season* it was, because she'd go so long without being aware of her surroundings, being so caught up in the work of really being *with* other people.

This book reminds me of the reasons why the very best of the ministers in our churches (I'd imagine in other religions as well) are the ones who leave, for one reason or another. Because they are genuine people, the very thing that makes them such good ministers is the very thing that drains them so of being their own person.

One line in this book actually brought tears to my eyes, and it was because of something mentioned in passing. "The Holy Spirit had spread her wings, and all the babies had settled down underneath them." The author was describing a day when she had decided to baptize a whole bunch of babies all together, and it started out chaotic, with all the babies crying, and ended up with mystical silence. Barbara Brown Taylor did not address inclusive language at all in this book, but when she referenced the Holy Spirit as "she" something broke in my spirit.

A few years ago when we lived at St. Nicholas Ranch, I attended a women's group that met once a month, on a Saturday morning at the Newman Center in Fresno. (Though Fresno is certainly not known for it's progressive thought, it did have some pockets--this was one.) It was an Ecumenical progressive group, and we discussed faith in a way that I never heard in Sunday school or sitting in the pew listening to a sermon. The female essence of God was discussed here, and I began to realize that I already had identified with the belief that God is not male or female, but rather created both, but I had not internalized this belief. Had not made it my own. Had not let God out of God's male box.

One of the presentations I heard there was on gender-inclusive language in church. We heard from one woman who had been deeply hurt by the male-based language of the church, and had been told outright that males were the highest priority on God's list, with females being a distant second. The other woman who spoke said she always knew that she was included in the male-based language but wanted it to change so that all women knew this.

I thought it was an interesting presentation, but after all, I figured I'd always known that it all applied to the women and girls as well as the men and boys. But I could see that using this kind of language has obviously given some people some ammunition for shooting women down.

So I decided to do something radical. Since we were at St. Nicholas Ranch, and our church services were quite small unless there was a retreat, I often got the chance to read the Epistle. In fact, I was the default Epistle reader, along with Hibi and The Other Elizabeth (our neighbor). When I got up to read that Sunday, I just changed the male-based language to gender neutral language. And something quite remarkable happened.

Brothers and Sisters, have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of a human.

The last word, "human", I changed from the word "man" (as well as Brethren to Brothers and Sisters.) Suddenly I was struck with the fact that God had become *human*, not just a man. God had decided to be like me, not only like men. Perhaps it was the contrast between what the text said and what I changed it to, but it felt....different. I almost teared up right there while reading to the people there to worship. It felt so....personal. Like, as a woman, I was worth Jesus becoming one of us, including me as "one of us."

Skip now to the present. This past Sunday our church adopted the Official Greek Orthodox Archdiocese translation of the Nicene Creed. (For those unfamiliar with the Creed, it is the statement we recite in church every liturgy, that explains our beliefs in a nutshell.) At first I thought, oh, it's about time we had a standardized version! The Episcopal church has it standardized, the Antiochian Orthodox church does, the Metropolis of Boston has since before we lived there. But when I read it for the first time, my heart sank. It states:

And in one Lord Jesus Christ....
Who for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven and was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and became man.
(For the full text click here.)

We had been using a version that said "Who for us and for our salvation..." and I can't see what's wrong with that. I have scribbled out the word "men" in my choir book and will continue to say it the other way. Hello! We're not all men!

Some might protest and say that of course, by "men" we mean "men and women." Aside from the fact that if that's what we mean, why don't we just say that? I have some problems with this. First, Paul says that in Greek, you really can say anthropos and mean men and women. But, as he says, do you call your wife, your daughter, your mother, "man"? Madaleine L'Engle says that "mankind" may have originally meant the same as "humankind" but that it is probably irreparable as a good word for all of us, since it has *not* been used to mean that for centuries.

Back to the ecumenical women's group I attended: one thing that was stated there is that there is already enough misogyny inherant in the scriptures because of the times in which it was written. We don't need to borrow from the English language's misogyny to make even more.

I am considering writing to the Archdiocese to request that they take a look at this issue. Perhaps the all-male hierarchy has blinded them to this issue, but I believe it to be one that needs attention. We don't really believe that women are second-class citizens. Do we?

The Power of Chickens

Today I volunteered for Girl Scouts Beyond Bars as I do about once a month (if you're new to my blog and want to read my initial post about this, click here). After I picked up the first two girls (they're the two sisters I drove the very first time I volunteered) and was driving to pick up the third, I was thinking about how different my life is from theirs, and wondering if we can relate at all. Is it just a waste of time? I mean, here they are, being beaten down by the mainstream that they're still trying to live up to. And I have rejected the mainstream and am on my own path. Last time I drove we had a discussion of what kinds of snacks we could have on hand--for these girls who didn't eat any breakfast. Fruit? Huh-uh! No way! They want junk from McDonalds.

Anyway, I was thinking perhaps it was time to throw in the towel. They can't relate to my life, and I can't relate to theirs. And then, for some reason, I mentioned my chickens. I started telling about the funny things they do, like the two who have decided that they don't care to sleep in the coop, but wish to spend their nights on a beam high up by the garage roof. Every night for more than a week I've had to stand on a chair and get them down and put them in the coop. The youngest Girl Scout in my car, who is turning 10 this month, thought this was hysterical! When the third girl got in the car, she told her about it, and then asked for more chicken stories. I told them all about the chickens I had out in the country, and how we had one who came into the house to lay her eggs, and about the duck eggs that one hen hatched and then was the perfect mama hen to those "chicklings", and worried herself about to death when they hopped into a puddle and swam around!

After our visit at the prison, when we were all in the car again, they begged, "Tell us some more stories about your chickens!" And so I did.

Paul says they'll remember me as the "chicken lady." And I suppose we found something they can relate to in my life.

I think I'll continue, keeping on keeping on.

The Garden Labyrinth is Finished!

Today I had an unexpected afternoon free, and the weather was absolutely gorgeous, so I stayed outside and worked on the garden path. Here's the result! I can't believe how evenly the stone worked out--that's it for the stone, it's gone, except for little bitty pieces.

Now we're all ready to get planting! We'll probably do some on Friday. Stay tuned!

The Teen in the House

13 years ago yesterday I was walking with Paul into the hospital at 3 am. I'd been woken at 2 am with my water breaking and contractions too close together to even stop and time, and we hurriedly gathered up everything we'd need and headed out. As we walked the path to the emergency room entrance, I was in thought--the first time I'd had time to think since labor started. Then I said, "March 4th." Paul looked thoughtful, then said, "Yes, we are." "No," I said, "The baby's birthday! This baby will be born on March 4th!" (If you don't get it, read it out loud.)

And she was, just three hours later. It was Carissa (as she was known then) who made me a mom, and who really, in large part, made me who I am today. She has always questioned everything, forcing me to, as well. I sometimes get complimented on how I've raised a feminist daughter, but I always deny that I've done that. She turned me into a feminist, not the other way around. When she was only 1 year old, I'd observe a squirrel or other little animal and say, "look, there's a squirrel! He's carrying a nut." And she'd always say, without exception, "No, SHE is carrying a nut!" And that's only the beginning of her feminism. :-)

Hibi is a woman of convictions. She changed her own name at age 8, and insisted that we call her by her new name, Hibiscus or Hibi for short. When Paul and I became vegetarians when she was 6, she was so mad at me for not cooking meat anymore that she wouldn't eat anything I cooked. She'd get her own dinner, even if it was just yogurt (no meat, because I didn't keep it in the house) because she wanted to make her own decisions. But at age 10, she decided on her own to go even further than we had and become a vegan. Even when being a vegan is very difficult, and it would be easy to make exceptions now and then, she has stuck with her principles. If you ever have a spare hour and would like to here about the treatment of animals to produce our food, just ask her why she doesn't eat milk/eggs/honey/meat. She'll be happy to give you all kinds of research.

Hibi has turned out to be a fantastic artist. She really turns out some good work and I'm excited to see what she makes of her talent as she grows.

Happy Birthday, sweet Hibiscus! I'm so glad you're my daughter.

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Here are both Hibi and Zac with their birthday presents! Zac got roller blades, and Hibi got a skateboard. Yes, they both have helmets, and yes, they will be wearing them regularly. (Right, kids?)

We had a great time bowling with a few of Hibi's friends last night, followed by some wonderful pizza at Mississippi Pizza. Cheeseless for Hibi and one other vegan friend.

Foodie Meme

I was tagged by Karrie to do a foodie meme. I was also tagged by Monica to do a post on the influential women in my life, but I'm still putting some thought into that one and I'll post it when I'm ready. This one can be put out there quickly!

1. What’s your #1 comfort food? Hmm....just one....I guess I'd have to say pasta, with butter and parmesan cheese, or with pesto. (That counts as just one, right?)

2. If you were on a deserted island, what one food would you want to have with you? Umm...again, just one? I suppose I'd want something that'd keep well, and I guess we're talking about warm weather? Those don't go together very well. Oh, I'll say soup with lots of greens. And ice cream.

3. What is/are your signature dishes? (What dishes are you ‘known’ for?) Pastitsio would definitely be one--you can find the recipe on my food blog. My homemade pizza is awfully good. Tomato soup! My favorite "signature" dishes are all summer-time dishes.

4. It’s Friday night, you don’t know what to cook. You opt for…Maybe a quick stir-fry with whatever veggies I have in the fridge, that left-over tofu and rice. Or use the same stuff and toss it with the Chinese noodles I keep in the freezer. Or, go get some good French or Italian bread and have bruschetta with seasonal vegetables. Or, take the same veggies in the fridge and make a stew.

5. What’s your biggest weakness when it comes to food? Cheese. It goes with everything.

6. What food can you absolutely not eat? Fast food. Meat of any kind. Mass-produced glop.

7. You need a drink. You grab a….glass of red wine, if it's in the evening. Or a cup of chai or English Breakfast tea with honey and milk.

8. What’s the most decadent dish you’ve had? I suppose it'd be a tie between creme brulee, in Paris (or at home) and the chocolate souffles I make from the Joy of Cooking.

9. What’s your favorite type of food? Indian.

10. Favorite dish? Saag Paneer (since I'm thinking Indian now)

11. If your partner could take you to any restaurant you wanted, which one would it be? Chez Panisse in Berkeley. We went there for my birthday once, and it was divine! Or Greens in San Francisco. Oh, or Chow in San Francisco. Yum.

12. Are you a soup or salad person? I hardly ever make salad at home. I make lots of soups. In restaurants I often opt for the salad, if I'm not sure if the ingredients in a soup are vegetarian, or if I won't be getting many veggies otherwise.

13. Buffet, take-out or sit-down restaurant? Sit-down. If I'm going out, I like to be served and not have to do a lot of running all over the place. My family really likes getting take-out and eating in front of a good movie, but I'd much prefer to sit down in a nice restaurant.

14. What’s the most impressive dinner you’ve ever made? I think it'd have to be the meal I blogged about on my cooking blog, when I had my extended family over for dinner and I made, like, 5 dinners all at once.

15. Do you consider yourself a good cook? Yes. My family thinks so too!

16. Do you know what vichyssoise is? Yup.

17. Who’s your favorite TV cook? I never watch TV cooks.

18. Can you name at least three TV cooking personalities? Um...LeighAnn from church. She works for Fred Meyer and I know she's on TV. (I don't know how she is on TV, but I do know she's a fantastic cook!) Nigella Lawson? Isn't she on TV? Emil, the BAM! guy--I've heard about him from my mother-in-law.

19. Homemade or homemade from a box? Homemade, all the way.

20. Name 3 or more other foodies you are going to tag:
Melisa, Lisa and Vicki.

Garden Progress

Here's the work we did with the garden today. I think it's going to be so beautiful when it's done! The path is made from slabs of granite and marble that we got at the ReBuilding Center today--a whole cartload for 50 bucks. Broken pieces and scraps, but it was perfect for our useage! We plan to make a labyrinth of sorts.

We planted rosemary, lavender, and blueberries. More to come!

Peanut Butter Cookbook?

Often, when I'm looking at statcounter to see what info I can glean about who's been visiting my blog, the google searches are quite amusing. Today's was a good one: benny and joon cookbook. Of course, this person found my blog because I've mentioned Benny and Joon as my very favorite all-time movie, and I talk about cookbooks. I had to click on the search and find out if there was such a thing! Then I began wondering what foods would be in a cookbook like this. Peanut butter cereal smoothies? Tapioca without raisins? Spaghetti and salad...In that order? Maybe it could give housekeeping hints as well, compliments of Sam. Oh, and we can't forget Sam's clothes-iron grilled cheese sandwiches, or his tennis racket-mashed potatoes. :-)

Okay, thanks for my two minutes of amusement!

10 years ago

10 years ago today I was in labor from the time I woke early in the morning until 3:30 in the afternoon. And then, out slithered a beautiful newborn! We named him Zachary Peter that day. The Peter was for his godfather, who is a Ukrainian Orthodox priest and was named the Ukrainian version of Peter. However, he's always gone by the English name of Patrick, so when Zac was a few days old we decided to change his middle name to Patrick as well.

Zachary was born at home on the seminary campus in Brookline, MA. We said for years that he was, as far as we knew, the only baby born on the campus of Holy Cross seminary. But recently we were told there was an emergency birth in the campus cafeteria, when a laboring mother couldn't get to the hospital through the snow! So, Zachary is the only one intentionally born on the campus of Holy Cross.

Zac received new rollerblades for his birthday, and this morning we went to the homeschool skate where he loved showing off his new skates! We're having a little party with a few of his friends later this afternoon. I'll post pictures later.

Happy Birthday, Zachary! I love you.

Boy, am I going to ache!

This is what we did today: we converted one side of our front yard into garden bed.

And these are two of our three "new girls"--Punky and Mama Bear. We now have six hens: the original two, Thelma and Louise, and we just voted on the name for the Barred Rock. We decided to go with Monica's suggestion: Fallujah, because she was attacked by a hawk. ;-) Paul wanted to name her Barack....for three reasons, one being that it's only two years until the election ;-), and then barred rock, Barack....and barack just sounds like what a chicken says.

The other new girl is black with red on her throat. Her name was Little Black when we got her, but I think we're going to vote to change it to Nigella, which Hibi says means "black."