Sizzling Summer...Stuff.

So, after a week of sleeping in till 8am EVERY SINGLE GORGEOUS MORNING and wrapping up my affairs from the past year (money = ouch), I’m preparing to launch a new summer routine next week. This summer will be unlike any summer I’ve had yet. I suppose one could say that about every summer, but some summers are more alike than others. What’s new about this summer? I’m going to be taking classes and working a real honest-to-goodness job for real pay. Both are bran-new experiences for me.

I’m also trying to establish a routine for myself. I’ve found I need structure (this is why I pay people to teach me things that are written in books and keep me accountable in learning material). It’ll be a sort of “Liturgy of Life”, if you will, in which I order my days to include regular prayer and Scripture, exercise, sleep, study, reading, and song. Until now I’ve had only spasms of structure in my routine of trying to hap-hazardly crunch everything I need to do into my days and finding at the end of the day that exhaustion extinguishes other interests.

So, here are some goals for the summer.

Daily Readings every day. Compline every night.
Success in Microbiology. (my scale and grade scale)
Work as much as possible (goal of a minimum of 3 days a week).
Learn one new folk song every week. A cappella. Lyrics and melody memorized.
Workout MTW 1 hour &30 minutes minimum. Walk/Bicycle 30 minutes -1 hour per day HFSS.
Read good books and write papers and blog posts for pleasure. (Vague, I know.)


About my job:
I’m a nurse technician. Basically, that means I’m a nurse assistant with a few more skills and responsibilities. I can bathe patients, change their linens, feed them meals, take vital signs, help them walk, help them toilet, bring them things, turn them, check I.V. lines, empty catheters and drains, do basic assessments. I’m hoping to be able to give tube feedings, change dressings, put in catheters, take out I.V. s, do naso/oral-pharangeal suction, etc as well. I don’t know yet how much of these nursing type responsibilities I’ll have. My hours are “Relief” type. I’m told that that means I can work as much as I want whenever they need me. The shifts are 12 hours long. From 7am to 7pm and vice versa. The facility is a Long Term Acute Care Hospital: patients come here when they’ve outstayed their time in the hospital, but the nursing home isn’t the right place for them either. There’s a big focus on rehabilitation, at least from what I saw when I did my geriatrics rotation there. We want to get the patients to the point where they can go home. It’ll be great.

About my summer schooling:
I’m taking a Microbiology course three days a week and Voice lessons for an hour a week. It’s 6 credits in all, I think, but that still sounds like a good breather from the RN program. I’ll be able to use the internet while I’m at school so I’ll spend some time expanding my song repertoire in the afternoon of school days with the help of youtube.

Speaking of songs, I’m beginning a systematic effort to put together a collection of celtic folkish songs singable by me unaccompanied. So far, here’s a few I have memorized and can do decently. More to come. There’s plenty on the back burner that need some work on lyrics or melody. (One familiar with the Corries will guess my attraction of late.)

Loch Lomond – both versions
A Parcel of Rogues (Burns)
Scots Wha’ Hae (Burns)
The Trees They Grow So High
The Streets of Derry
The Water is Wide
The Rose of Allendale
Grace
Treat Me Daughter Kindly
Wild Mountain Thyme
Westering Home
Come O’er the Stream, Charlie
I Will Go
The Skye Boat Song

Because I am an Epistemophiliac...

Reader,

I crave this book. I found it in the library yesterday and it is amazing:

Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary of Unusual, Obscure, and Preposterous Words.

From this book, my friend and I learned yesterday that we are both "epistemophiliacs" and have since used that word rather randomly.

Is rediscovering her love for words and language, philosophy and debate. ARG.

B-day

Last evening through today have together composed the nicest birthday I think I have ever had. Simple, no fanfare, relaxing, are effective descripters. I did what I wanted to do.

Last night I came home to a nice, homecooked stirfry complete with vegetables, mushrooms, and onions. Instead of cake, we had apple pie at my request. Mom even bought cider. It was a very cozy meal - just the family, nothing elaborate. After dinner I received a few gifts - beautiful writing from my youngest sister, a CD of Handel's Messiah from my Grandparents, and a cell phone from my parents. Best of all, Dad brought out the guitar. He hasn't played since...I don't know when - probably at least a year. We drug out the old "Word of God" community song books and sang the beautiful charismatic semi-liturgical songs I used to love as a wee lass. The Te Deum setting in Daddy's book is still one of my favorite songs.

Instead of going to sleep or forcing homework down my gullet or even socializing online, I took up a book - the first fiction book I've cracked this semester. George MacDonald regaled me with his narrative of "wee Sir Gibbie" till nigh on 1:30am. It was delightfully satisfying and seemed a combination of several styles of writing I've appreciated in the past. The young, dumb, gentle-hearted orphan overcomes the odds with simplicity and forgiveness, wins the maiden, and in poetic justice inherits the house of his forbears, all in (relative) Scottish dialect.

The day of me birth I spent wi' me ain bonnie lad and some other friends. I would not have had the day any other way. It was relaxing, low key, and not "me focused" at all. I may safely say that in all my -- years, I've had ne'er a more pleasant birthday, nor received it sae gratefully as a day of rest.

Sunday Night's Addition: A note on the makeup. I'm going off of it. I've been wearing it off and on for the past week and a half because of acne severity. I hate acne: I hate the blotches on my face. I also abhore a mask, particularly clay, especially clay connected by association with coquettish behaviors. But I put it on because I hated the unnatural physiologic more than the unnatural cosmetic. Tomorrow, however, I'm done. I will not be ashamed of my face. If it causes unpleasantness to others, I will hide it again, but not till then.

Goodnight, dear reader. Tomorrow I begin my clinical work in Geriatrics. I don't have to get up at 4am, but I do need to rise at 5, and hence I shall now turn in. Here ends another post with no particularly deep point.

So, Singing, Self Saw Salamander

For the sheer sake of blogging something random...

I had my voice lesson this morning.

We moved to the grand piano in the choir room because it was so warm in our practice room.

All of a sudden, Brother G. stopped playing and got up. I looked over and there was a newt crawling on the tile floor! He picked it up gently and we looked at it. It had dust all over it and was starting to dry out. Brother G. took it outside and set it under some rain-soaked leaves.

When we checked on it after the lesson, the salamander was gone.

Thus Quoth The Patriarch: or Star Wars Plot Per Daddy

Star Wars plot according to Daddy:

"Beautiful girl
rescued by handsome boy
for dumb reasons
while doing exciting things
all over the universe."

Mommy: That sounds like a "universal" plot.

Children groan grinningly.

Just Wanted to Say

People,

You are blogging faster than I can follow you. I haven't read the Blackbirds for over a month and I see I'm missing out on some good stuff. I haven't caught up on Pasto's stuff either! And as for Liturgical stuff, Cultural stuff, and Bioethical stuff, well! That's taken a serious hike. And please don't be offended if I'm not commenting on personal blogses. *implores on knees* I'm trying to skim them 'bout once/week or so, but, whew! they get away from me.

But I took a minute after lecture today to check out some resources for me as a Nursing student and woman.

National Association of Prolife Nurses : These guys are BOLD and take it beyond abortion. Read their Policies under the Resources link. I'm considering joining.
Michigan Nurses for Life : also great.
Feminists for Life: I'll definitely be thinking about this one. I like it when women challenge the meaning and connotations that "feminism" has taken on in this culture. Being a woman does not mean being as much like a man as I can be. :P

So, yeah. News:

I'm doing fine. Not dead yet (see a previous post for image status. Wow, Eowyn's really lookin' good in that picture considerin' the circumstances. :P ).

Nursing classes are going great! I'm really enjoying the lectures and the lab skills because they both engage the mind in critical thinking and focus on real human beings and their individual needs in every aspect of life. Nursing is holistic care of the patient as a human being, and that is what I've always wanted to do without knowing how to state it in such terms. My professors are wonderful, especially the lead professor for this semester. She's no-nonsense, but has a wonderful sense of humor and a passion and concern for patients and students. She's not going to baby us: if we want this training, we have to throw ourselves into learning. But she's a caring and effective teacher even while she demands a full return.

The reading for the classes is IMMENSE. And I'm not kidding. We had double digit numbers of chapters assigned for the first day! I thought I read a lot for Augustine! Ha! (Well, I admit that I didn't do all the reading for Augustine College that I was supposed to - Music, for instance and the Art supplement occasionally. :P) But I've found (and been given) some strategies for picking out the information I need and moving on through, so once I get into a rhythm, I think I'll be fine.

As the week goes along, I'm my confidence is picking up a bit, which is very important. I was a bit worried by my own lack of self-confidence, initially, because I knew it would pose problems for motivation, info retention, test-taking, relating to professors, anxiety, sleep, etc.

My hybrid (online) course, Nutrition, meets on Saturday. Blah. I loathe online classes and Saturday meetings don't tickle me either, but, heh, I guess it spreads classes out a bit. Math for Meds challenges me - not with complicated concepts, but with my own slowness. I'm not a speedy mental calculator and I haven't had a math class in 2 years. Ouch! It's getting better as I work through the practice problem sets. Ooooh! and I am taking voice lessons with a Dominican monk! I can't really explain why that tickles me pink, but, if you know me at all, you might have a general idea. ;)

Alshoooooo, I'm reading the Apostolic Fathers for an idependent patristic study dealie-thing with Pasto' and am suitably thrill-ed. I finished I Clement and II Clement (albeit misnomered) while camping.

So, yeah.

gtts, any one? What about a grain? Silly apothecary system of measurment. Mutters. As I delight to share jewels of wisdom, "gtts" is short hand for "drop." Go figure. A grain is an (archaic) apothecary measurement and is equivalent to 60 milligrams. We have to be familiar with it because apparently old docs don't learn new tricks. :P (Yes, I know, mixed metaphor. Gotta stop doing that. It's just so much fun!)

Can you tell I'm a little tired and hungry and happy after a few stressful days?
Ending ramble now: press any key to continue.

Choices, choices, choices.

'k guys. I'm trying to decide which poems to declaim for the Fair. They have to be related either by topic or author. Last year I did Scottish poets. This year I'm loosely using the topic of "Poetic Reflections on Character" (made by me).

I know I want to declaim:
How did you Die?
If
Nobility

Those are the first three poems below and require about 5 minutes. I could fill two minutes more, but I can't decide which poem to add of the ones I've typed out below. My least favorite of the options below is Be Strong and I figure that Not in Vain is probably pretty 'run of the mill'. But I can't decide between Polonius' Advice to Laertes and Waiting. I like Waiting a little more, but I don't know whether good ole Polonius fits with the topic better. I need some advice.

So please speak up and declare to me your wisdom!

How Did You Die?
Edmund Vance Cooke

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that!
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there--that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts;
It's how did you fight--and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?




If
Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!


Nobility
Alice Cary
True worth is in being, not seeming,--
In doing, each day that goes by,
Some little good – not in dreaming
Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in their blindness,
And spite of the fancies of youth,
There’s nothing so kingly as kindness,
And nothing so royal as truth.

We get back our mete as we measure –
We cannot do wrong and feel right,
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,
For justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight, for the children of men.

‘Tis not in the pages of story
The heart of its ills to beguile,
Though he who makes courtship to glory
Gives all that he hath for her smile.
For when from her heights he has won her,
Alas! it is only to prove
That nothing’s so sacred as honor,
And nothing so loyal as love!

We cannot make bargains for blisses,
Nor catch them like fishes in nets;
And sometimes the thing our life misses
Helps more than the thing which it gets.
For good lieth not in pursuing,
Nor gaining of great nor of small,
But just in the doing, and doing
As we would be done by, is all.

Through envy, through malice, through hating,
Against the world, early and late,
No jot of our courage abating –
Our part is to work and to wait.
And slight is the sting of his trouble
Whose winnings are less than his worth;
For he who is honest is noble,
Whatever his fortunes or birth.




Not in Vain
Emily Dickenson

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain:
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.


Be Strong
Maltbie Davenport Babcock

Be strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard work to do, and loads to lift;
Shun not the struggle – face it; ‘tis God’s gift.

Be strong!
Say not, “The days are evil. Who’s to blame?”
And fold the hands and acquiesce – oh shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God’s name.

Be strong!
It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong,
How hard the battle goes, the day how long;
Faint not – fight on! Tomorrow comes the song.



Waiting
John Burroughs

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea;
I rave no more ‘gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my hast, I make delays –
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me,
No wind can drive my bark astray
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own, and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.

Polonius’ Advice to Laertes
(from Hamlet)
William Shakespeare

There, -- my blessing with you!
And these few precepts in thy memory
See thou character. –Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion’d thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
Bear’t that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But no expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
Ad it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Lithuania: Part I

Laubas, people!

At the beginning of our European adventure, I halfheartedly attempted to journal about the happenings each day, but our host packed things so tight that I had absolutely no time to record everything properly, nor energy after the day finally ended.

So, with Elle’s help (who, by the way, journalled very faithfully) I assembled a brief sketch of our doings here in the beautiful land of Lietuva. I’ll add random commentary also, but there’s no way I’ll be able to set down things as they were or do justice to them.

Monday, June 29th – Day of Endless Airplane Surprises

We were supposed to fly out from O’Hare, Chicago Airport to Warsaw, Poland about 5:30pm. But we packed early and were waiting around taking care of last minute things when the telephone rang. Our flight had been delayed 7 hours at least – not what we wanted to hear. However, there was another route which might just get us to Warsaw in time for our connecting flight to Vilnius. We would have to be at O’Hare in 3 hours. Could we do it? Mom’s never been one to delay. We called Grandma and Grandpa (as it was far too late to take the South

Once in O’Hare, we checked in, etc, only to find that our flight to Frankfurt, Germany was over-booked by 100 some passengers. Some-how, we managed to be among the persons assigned seats (Snap got upgraded to Business Class – lucky duck!): Thank God! Then the plane was delayed. And delayed some more. After an hour or so we boarded. Once on the plane, we settled in for a looooooong ride. 9 hours. I read some Lithuanian history, slept, edited some writing, read some Touchstone Magazine, talked with the Guatemalan lady on the other side of mom (practiced my Spanish), ate the food they gave me, and in general was immensely uncomfortable because they build seats for people taller than 5’ 1.”

Tuesday, June 30th – Continuation of Airplaneness and Commencement of Jet-lag

Once we landed in Frankfurt, we immediately sped across the airport to find our connecting flight to Warsaw. We had a slight problem, you see. When our tickets were printed, somehow, we didn’t receive my ticket from Warsaw to Vilnius. In Chicago we were told that they’d print it for us in Frankfurt. In Frankfurt they said to wait until Warsaw. I was a little worried. :P
Anyway, we noticed that this one family that had also taken our Chicago flight to Frankfurt boarded our connecting flight to Warsaw. Snap and I joked that perhaps we’d follow them, or they’d follow us, all the way to Vilnius. We shouldn’t have laughed – it happened. :D

When we landed in Frankfurt, Mom was in a bit of a panic. Our flight came in late, and there was only about half an hour till we were to board the Vilnius flight. We couldn’t read the signs very well, nor speak Polish (though English was spoken too [ish –as Snap says]) and we still needed a ticket for me! Needless to say, we had a rather frantic 30 minutes weaving our way through the airport and arrived barely in time to board the bus for the plane. (We probably would have missed it if Mom hadn’t sent Snap on ahead to let them know we were coming.)

On the plane, I read some more Lithuanian history and found out that the Millennium Celebration of Lithuania as a historically mentioned entity is connected with the Lithuanian’s martyring St Bruno. You’d probably know him as St. Boniface.

(Ironically, the Oak is symbolic for Lithuania. Snap: I thought St. Boniface cut down the Oak. TQ: And the Lithuanians cut down St. Boniface... [Yeah, I know. It’s pretty lame.])

Lithuania (Christianized by that time) also finally defeated the Teutonic Knights, ending their era of power, at the battle of Zalgiris or Grunewald under Grand Duke Vytautas. I also found out something very, very, very interesting. Apparently, at the time of Luther, the Grand Master of the weakened Teutonic Order corresponded with that reformer; the outcome being that both he and the greater portion of the Order became Lutheran and the former head of the Teutonic Knights swore allegiance to the Grand Duke of Lithuania as – guess what! – the Duke of Prussia! (That explains alot!)

Anyway, we landed in Vilnius, claimed our baggage, and were greeted by our hosts. (No customs, no passport checks.) They dropped us off at the flat which their friends had kindly agreed to let us borrow and left us to sleep for a few hours (after the mistress of the flat fed us well!). At 7pm, they picked us up and took us to see a bit of the city of Vilnius.

First we visited a cemetery in which rested a monument surrounding the graves of 14 persons killed by the Soviet tanks in an attack on a TV tower guarded by the Lithuanian nationals. Then we walked through Cathedral Square (past the Palace of the Grand Dukes of Lithuania and the Cathedral) and took pictures of the statue of King Gediminas – the first king of Lithuania. We climbed a hill above the Square, overlooking Vilnius, whereon were planted three immense white crosses. As our host told it, the original crosses were pulled down by the Soviets, but buried by the people before they could be destroyed so that after re-independence they could serve as a model for the present monumental crosses. (We saw those original pieces also). Finally, we left one of our newlywed friends with her husband of a few days (they were so beautiful together) and went with the other to meet his family and have dinner.

The family is lovely. The boy is one of those young men who just capture a place in my heart on first acquaintance. He’s witty, charmingly unembarrassed, yet sensitive and comical. Of them all, he spoke English the most fluently. The girl is wonderful as well, sweet, and very helpful. It was so nice to have another female to hang around with and to help translate despite age differences.

Wednesday, July 1st – Museum and Concerts, Concerts.

In the morning, our host took us to an open air museum of historic Lithuanian life. Traditional farmsteads from each sector of Lithuania form replicas of small settlements in the countryside. Interpreters in traditional dress explain architecture and traditions. (unfortunately, not in Anglishke) We had a lunch of traditional Lithuanian food at a small cafe in one of these villages, and our host suggested we try a certain drink: Gira. He explained that it was made with bread dough left to sit for three or four days in water with sugar. (Snap and I grin at each other.) It was served us in a bottle; this was not the real gira, said he. Someday we should try homemade gira. (Snap drinks and whispers to me, “Do you think it is...?” I nod. “I kind of like it,” says she. I grin.)
We made it back to Vilnius just in time to catch the first festivities of the Millennium Celebration of Lietuva. First we watched a ceremony by the riverside which we couldn’t see much of because of the crowd. Monks from the Franciscan Monastery were chanting (I think they were real monks??) and girls in traditional costume were putting wreaths of flowers on the water. (No, Nick, we didn’t participate. :D) Then we ran to a Franciscan church (much defaced by the Soviets and still in the process of restoration) for what our host called “a concert” (I think that this term meant pretty much anything musical performed by one or two groups indoors. I’m still not sure) in which songs were sung by choirs – apparently songs about St. Francis (?). Then we ran to the Vilnius University church to hear a concert by the Lithuanian Boy’s Choir and another choir after them. Then we found our way back to Cathedral Square for a televised National Signing of Millennium of Lithuania Document thingy. Since it was all in Lithuanian, I’m not actually that sure what was going on, but different Lithuanian important figures spoke and choirs sang songs, and bands played, and people were honored, and video clips on the history of Lithuania were shown, and I saw REAL LIVE MONKS! (they were barefoot too...) We didn’t get “home” until very late.

During our entire first week in Vilnius, Snap and I discovered that (very unfortunately) whenever we sat down for more than 15 minutes, we would find ourselves struggling against an overpowering urge to sleep. It was rather unpleasant because we were in constant fear that our host would think we were bored and be hurt.

Thursday, July 2nd – Day of Churches, Song and Dance

We spent the first part of the day with our newlywed hostess visiting churches in the Old Town of Vilnius. They were all beautiful. It saddened one to see the destruction wrought by the Soviets still awaiting repair. Many churches had once been covered with beautiful frescoes where now only bits of colored plaster still suggest the artwork. Most of the churches we saw were Roman Catholic, but we saw a few Russian Orthodox as well. I found the Orthodox churches artistically a bit surprising. They differed from all the other Orthodox churches I’ve been in (in my vaaaasst experience of a grand 2!) and the Eastern art I’ve seen. Large western looking paintings graced the walls in some, even forming part of the iconostasis. Many of the icons were westernized and lacked the unique form and perspective of the eastern icons. Often I saw a mix of western paintings and eastern icons in the same space, right next to each other. In one Orthodox cathedral, I saw relicts of several saints (from the area) preserved and housed in an elaborately roofed box. I eyed some of the icons for sale a bit wistfully too. At one of the churches, a lady took us to a table, and through our translator told us to take one or two of the pieces on it. Most were paper copies of icons, but in addition to one of those, I was given a necklace pendant of Christ with the Theotokos and Snap received a miniature icon of St. Valentine. Awesome! (Now I have both an RC “dogtag” and an Orthodox one. I plan to wear the Orthodox one as there’s nothing theologically wrong with it that I can see. (And my Protestant friends might ask questions. [Naughty me]) The RC one (from a Baptist School’s Garage Sale :P ) petitions the Blessed Virgin to pray for us, which I am uncomfortable with. )

After lunch, we climbed a hill (in pouring rain) to Gediminas Tower, a tower preserved from the wall of the castle that once overlooked the center of Vilnius. For the slightly romantic girl who loves knights, armor and chivalry, the little bit of brick and stone was immensely exciting. I loved every bit of it, especially the view over Vilnius from which I could imagine how I would defensively and offensively arrange an army around such a fortress. Afterwards, we were handed over to our other host who took us to the National Philharmonic to hear philharmonic choirs from all over Lithuania and Lithuanian choirs from other countries. I’ve never heard anything like it. (The hall was packed, but our host somehow worked us in after half and hour or so of waiting on the steps. It was so worth the wait.)

But the day wasn’t over yet! We missed the final half hour of the Philharmonic Orchestra concert to run to the Song and Dance Festival (part of the Millennium Celebration) in an outdoor amphitheatre snuggled in a deep valley in a Vilnius park. People lined the hills to watch. We heard folk songs and watched folk dances (in traditional costume) till late into the night. (actually early morning) At the end of the Festival, the musicians played traditional polkas from each of the four provinces of Lithuania and our host dragged me and Mamita down for a dance. It was awesome!

Friday, July 3rd – Swimming and the Children’s Festival

In the morning our hosts drove us to a small inland lake to swim. It was quite cold, yet desire to be good guests proved a strong incentive. Once accustomed to the water, the swim was pleasant and refreshing. Falling through the floor of the changing booth was not. (I wasn’t hurt, just a bit scratched.) Afterwards, we went to the Children’s Choir Festival in which over 16,000 children from all over Lithuania sang for hours and hours and hours. It was also amazing. (Our host’s children sang and played in one of the orchestras.) After this even was over, we went to eat and then walked along Gedimino parkway, near the Parliament building. Our host’s wife related to us how she and her husband had stood at that very corner not so many years ago with many other Lithuanians, forming a living barrier around Parliament to protect it from Soviet tanks. (This occurred the same night as the assault on the TV tower.) She also showed us an exhibit with remnants of the blocks and barricades surrounding the building.

Saturday, July 4th – Genocide Museum, Mass, and Opera at a Castle!

Mom managed to use the internet to contact Daddy, courtesy of our flat hostess, before our host picked us up. The order of the morning was to be the Museum of the Lithuanian Genocide (Nazi and Soviet), situated in the former KGB headquarters in Vilnius. Cold stone speaks louder than anything our host could have told us. Upstairs we saw offices, displays on the Lithuanian Partisan resistance, the deportees to Sibera, the KGB infiltration and police rule. But downstairs we encountered the cells; cells for solitary confinement, water treatment, some padded to prevent suicide by tortured prisoners, the execution chambers. I had heard the tales, but had never seen. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Our host didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to.

After that, we went to the Cathedral Square. Because of the Millennium Celebration, a media trailer had been set up at one corner of the square. Mom had been eager to use the internet to contact Dad, and Elle and I likewise wished for a clue of what was passing at home. Our host said that the loudspeakers had announced that everyone was invited to use the resources within the trailer (including computers with internet access). Nervously, with much glancing around us, Elle and I followed her into the booth. I managed to glance at my inbox and answer two emails, when all of a sudden I heard the televised microphone announcer behind me. I heard some sort of question, and turned just in time to see the announcer stick the microphone in front of Snap’s face. She turned bright red and whispered, “I don’t speak Lithuanian.” I heard the announcer chuckle and say something about “American” as he turned away. Mom totally missed the whole exchange, and we couldn’t convince her that we wanted to get out of sight NOW! Accordingly, Snap and I beat it out of there, leaving mom to spend another few minutes emailing.

Once Mom had finished with her internet communications, our host and we walked through the booths in the park next to the Cathedral square. It was full of various performing groups in traditional Lithuanian costume (singers, demonstrators, smiths, cooks, dancers, etc), vendors, and children and spectators of all sizes. Elle took pictures. At 5:00pm, we went to Mass with our host and his family (it was a special Mass that they had to be present for) and then drove to Trackai. Trackai is home to the best preserved medieval castle in Lithuania – a castle on an island. And as if that weren’t enough, we were going to see an opera – an famous Lithuanian opera staged in the castle. Several friends of our host’s son came along (they were hilarious and interesting. One looked like Prince Caspian while another spoke fluent English and looked like a Rohirrim from the LOTR movies.) We ate a light supper together at a cafe which included something akin to Pasties and a whole tall mug of gira! (I look at Snap and whisper, “It comes in pints!” She nods.” However, Snap did not like the homemade gira because of the pellet looking things floating in it.) I drank ALL of mine, pellets and all.

Unfortunately, it was raining when the opera began and we could barely see anything through the mass of umbrellas (the audience sat in the courtyard and the opera was staged upon the walls and on a platform in a corner. Even though it was in Lithuanian and I could understand none of the words (excepting a few names), I could follow the general storyline and I enjoyed the performance immensely. Our hostess also found a plot synopsis in English for us to read which greatly illumined the musical goings on. The Teutonic knights plot to take the castle, one princess marries her love, while her “sister” is deceived and seduced by the Teutonic envoy into betraying her people, is verbally chastened by her Lithuanian prince, and is murdered by the Teutonic envoy before reaching the castle. The Lithuanian warriors lose the battle and die in a burning castle rather than surrender. It was all very dramatic, including real fire! *eyes widen* Ooh, aah!

We took pictures in the dark in front of the castle.

Two items

Two small items.

First,
I copied down the following from an excellent and much loved (and worn) shirt of a friend in Vilnius. It was accompanied by illustrations:

Optimist - The glass is half full
Pessimist - The glass is half empty
Realist - The glass is.
Idealist - The glass should be full
Feminist - His glass seems more full than my glass.
Environmentalist - Save the water!
Anarchist - Let's break the glass!
Capitalist - Let's sell the glass!
Chemist - The glass is... (proceeds to list the chemical formula of glass which I failed to copy down)

Also, on the way home from the SB airport, Grandpa bought us Burger King. I was appalled (though quite humoured) at the message on the paper cups:

HAVE IT YOUR WAY
Maybe you want a lot of ice. Maybe you want no ice. Maybe you want your top securely fastened, or maybe you want to go topless. Hmmm? Maybe you want to mix COKE and SPRITE. Maybe you want to let your cup runneth over (we wish you wouldn't). Whatever you do, make sure to have things your way.


Note to self: Why a Biblical allusion?

Comic Relief!

Dear Reader,

As I am in need of and currently enjoying little comic relief at this time, I thought I share some.

First, you simply must head over to Snap's place and read the history test! It's priceless.

Secondly, that Pine Cone Boy has given me permission to post quotes he took from Augustine. I stealed them from his blogses. Editorial Note: if there is a "me" in the following it signifies Zack. I must have forgotten to change it. Also, Bladerunner is Dr. Bloedow. And Metelsk is Dr. Metelski. And the funniest quotes are at the bottom so you really do have to read the entire thing!

Kyle: When I say there are seven students in my class, people ask, “You mean seventy, right?” “No, seven.”
David: “It’s kinda like seventy…”
Kyle: “…only divided by ten.”

Joel: Please tell me we have internet.
Zack: Nope.
Joel: Gah! My life is over!
Kyle: That was short.

Zack: I bet I know more Swedish than you do.
Kyle: (pointing at IKEA package) Then tell me what “Malm” means!

Zack: Fudge’d!

Joel: We have to make up a name for the frat we started five seconds ago. What rhymes with “frat”?

(On Joel’s strangely constructed closet)
Kyle: I can just imagine you sitting up there, reciting poety and thinking up rhymes for “frat”.
Joel: It’s like Narnia back here… ‘Oh, hey Aslan. Can you think of a rhyme for “frat”‘?

Me: Malm’d!

(This was a hypothetical dialogue Dr. Tingley was describing)
Torturer: Tell us who your accomplice is!
Victim: I like sardines.

Samantha: (on a fuzzy picture Tingley wanted us to indentify) It looks like a bat with a cleft lip.
Tingley: (on the same picture) Only one student has ever guessed it without any hints or prompting. He was one of the worst students that year, but he guessed it.

Tingley: People used to read Plato after supper, whereas now they read John Grisham or… Harry Potter. (looking at Zack's weird expression) I’ve probably offended some people already.
Zack: No, I just wish everyone would stop staring at me!

Kyle: Is there somewhere I can park around here without getting one of these? (holds up parking ticket)

Zack: The Basement People are on an excursion. Get all your hammering done now!

Harold: (on whether or not the Basement People would steal our stuff) I don’t think you’ll have any problems with them. (pause) I’m a little worried about your laptops.

Kyle: Also, when it’s raining, that tree tries to kill you.

Zack: (on Joel’s techno) Is that the song or are you rewinding?

([Zack]'d sat down next to Kyle with a creepy smile on [his] face)
Kyle: I thought you were trying to get me to drive you somewhere.
Zack: No. I just like being insane and enjoying every minute of it.

(later)Kyle: (on Joel) He’s insane and enjoying every minute of it!
Zack: Hey, at least I’m not smellily insane.
Joel: What?
Kyle: I think he doesn’t like your dreadlocks.
Joel: You’re a shameless antagonist!

Zack: (pointing at David’s cereal) Can I have some of that?
David: No… listen, my cereal is like your ice cream.(pause)
Zack: I’ll trade you.(Joel and David laugh)
Joel: I guess it’s not… that was really funny. (laughs some more)
Zack: OK, I guess I’ll have to write that one down…

Kyle: Huh? (opens a book cover which folded out without anything on it) I don’t get it. Why?

Dr. Patrick: Atheism explains nothing and leaves you with all the problems. At least Christians can blame God, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

Dr. Patrick: Do the hardest thing you’re capable of.
Joel: What?
Dr. Patrick: Do the hardest thing you’re capable of.
Joel: Oh. I thought you said, “Do the hardest thing and your head will blow up.”

Janice: Do you want anything to eat?
Clement: No, I’m fine.
Dr. Patrick: You don’t look it.

(Sarah was telling how she RA’d for another college once, and contrasting the guys’ disgusting residence with the girls’ lovely one)
Sarah: The girls’ house smelled really nice, with cookies and brownies…
Dr. Patrick: And not an intelligent word to be heard.

Bladerunner: In this course, you will never, never be allowed to say, “There is two”.

Kyle: (on his church) Most of the congregation is Chinese. And then you have a few token Caucasians such as myself.

Joel: Choir was mandatory, so I took that for a few years. Can’t read music. Then in high school I took band, and I was the trumpet. Still can’t read music.

Rev. Hayman: There have been a few people over the years who have gotten away with calling me “Dougie”.
Joel: Can I be one of those people?

Kyle: The rain is deceivingly wet.

Dr. Tingley: (reading Hegel) “To pit this single assertion, that ‘in the Absolute all is one,’ against the organized whole of determinate and complete knowledge, or of knowledge which at least aims at and demands complete development — to give out its Absolute as the night in which, as we say, all cows are black — that is the very naïveté of emptiness of knowledge.” (pause) Hwat?!?

(We were trying to translate the Latin idiom “Si vales, valeo” into a corresponding English expression. Various attempts included, “If you’re well, I’m well,” “If you’re fine, I’m fine,” “How are you,” and others)
Bladerunner: (clarifying) HI!!!

Dr. Tingley: Sorry I’m late today.
Joel: We’ll forgive you. Well, I will, anyway.

Dr. Tingley: If the fart, I mean, the heart… I’m really sorry these lectures are recorded.

(Emily was telling us how she abbreviated words like “tradition” and “delicious” to “tradish” and “delish”)
Zack: Gah, I HATE it when people do that!
David: Oh, it doesn’t mat to me.

Metelsk: Everyone has a book at home?
(we nod) Good. It has nice pictures.

Kyle: (on his Literature notes) I put down here on the timeline, “William the Conqueror does his thing. CONQUER’D!” And then later, here’s Christopher Marlowe. STABB’D!

Metelsk: (explaining Anaximander’s theories) That was his thinking. Well, good try.

Karen: Deer are so stupid! *sigh* We should just shoot all of them.

(I mentioned I was planning to bring an axe to the Ranch)
Janice: An axe? A hatchet maybe, or a tomahawk…
Karen: I love throwing tomahawks. (mimes doing so)
Sarah: See, this is what makes me afraid of Americans. Americans and Zack.
Zack: I like weapons.

Zack: (finishing drying pot lid) Here’s your LID.
Joel: Put it on the pot, please.
Zack: Never. I’ll die first.
Joel: That can be arranged.

Bladerunner: (coming out of a long tangent about Roman history) No, we didn’t do the verb… why am I talking about this? We’re supposed to be doing Latin…

Bladerunner: A noun in the nominative plural.
Karen: …Virorum?
Bladerunner: Oh no, no, no, don’t do that to me, Karen.

Bladerunner: First verb.
Joel: Amicos…
Bladerunner: Now Joel. Now Joel, don’t ruin my day.

Bladerunner: The verb?
Kyle: Iram… no, what am I doing…
Bladerunner: I don’t know what you’re doing. It puzzles me.

Bladerunner: “Caecilianus has a lovely dinner-guest.” (pause) A pig.

Bladerunner: Direct object.
David: Leonidas.
Bladerunner: Now David, don’t make my life miserable.

Bladerunner: The verb?
David: Salvi?
Bladerunner: What are you trying to tell me.

Sarah: The next chapter is exactly the same as the last one, except with masculine endings.
David: But that’s not exactly the same, then!

Joel: They look young and stupid. Why aren’t they in school?

Karen: (watching a beatboxing video) Can you imagine how much spit is in that microphone?

Prof. Warren: I won’t read all this; I don’t want to kill your brain cells.
Zack: You already have.
Prof. Warren: Yes, well, hopefully we’ve created a few along the way…

Kyle: I’ve decided to form a club called, “Paradise Lost: WTF?”

Joel: (on the Cyclopes) They’re irreparably nucleic.
Prof. Tucker: Now there’s a phrase.

Zack: I’m pretty sure I’m the metalhead of this residence.
Joel: Yeah. (pause) Actually, I’m not sure you are…
Zack: You’re right, I’m just a poser.
Kyle: Wow, that was a quick confession.

Rev. Hayman: (making some kind of Biblical illustration) If you hear a loud roar outside… (a bus rolls by loudly outside) …well, that’s not quite what I was thinking of…

Tingley: Something in my brain is upside-down.

Joel: Why won’t it just get cold?
Zack: Zeus is angry at us. We must make hecatombs.
Joel: We’ll pour out libations and slaughter a cow. Except I don’t have any cows. (looks out window) I hope that guy will do.

Tingley: We’ll be able to end early today. Mercifully. For once. (we didn’t, btw)

Tingley: (on a bust of a philosopher) What’s different here?
Samantha: He looks insane.

Tingley: (on a sculpture of Aphrodite and Pan) She’s got a slipper here, and she’s going to whack him. “Oh, you naughty thing!”

Emily: They’re probably in numerical order. Two coming after one, etc.

Clement: So how’s everyone tonight?
Zack: Peachy. I’m just peachy!
Sarah: I think we need to stop giving Zack sugar. And caffeine.

Note attached to plant: I’m drowning. Don’t water me, please!

David: (telling a joke) What do white children turn into when they go to heaven?
Joel: Black people?
David: No, angels.
Joel: Same thing.

Emily: (dramatically speaking of the alleged Beowulf movie) As Grendel’s arm was ripped from his body, so the plot of Beowulf was ripped from the poem!

Joel: (on Beowulf) He killed seven people before he was born.
Emily: Yeah. “I ate my twin!”

Karen: That’s not the question I was expecting…
Tingley: Deal with it.

The following bracketed quotes are from a film Dr. Tingley showed us:

[Narrator: Each man puts forth his own definition of love until finally, Socrates annihilates them all.

Teacher: Beautiful speech. Beautiful. But of course... it has to be demolished.]

Me: I have a possible solution to the subjective dilemma you find yourself in.

Karen: That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!
Joel: You don’t hear much, do you?

Kyle: I learned all this reading Tom Clancey novels.
Prof. Tucker: Yeah, they teach pretty much everything in those except character development.

Zack: Look, did you have some kind of weird drink at that party?(pause)
Joel: (in really weird voice) The weirdest.

Tingley: That’s a good question, and we should answer it — just not now.

Sarah: I’m a horrible person.
Kyle: But it’s such a nice horrible.

Bladerunner: And who do you think Ovid is speaking to?
Kyle: Umm… who’s Ovid?

Prof. Warren: Well, we’re finishing up Gregorian chant today, believe it or not.
Zack: I don’t believe it.

(the following exchange took place on MSN)
Zack: Where are you?
Joel: I’m listening to MM in hermitude.
Zack: Hermitude? I think you mean the Hermitage, my friend.
Joel: No, hermitude. It’s like solitude, but with a beard.

Rev. Hayman: What’s the word you use for a people like this? Common lineage, common language, common goals…
Joel: …communists?

Prof. Tucker: (on Buechner) His theology is not orthodox, but… y’know. Who cares.

Tingley: Plato called Aristotle “The Reader”. Which is a good thing to be called. (pause) Better than “The Gamer”.

Tingley: Please excuse the proximity in that sentence of God and a dung beetle.

Prof. Tucker: …the reign of King Elizabeth.
Zack: Umm… isn’t that Queen Elizabeth?
Prof. Tucker: No, King Elizabeth sounds right to me.

Prof. Tucker: “Interactional synchrony.” Sounds like a Police album.

Prof. Tucker: “Most drafts can be cut by 50 per cent without losing any information or losing the author’s voice.”
David: Wow. That’s a lot of per cent. That’s almost, like, half.

Sarah: Does Wolsey get his head chopped off?
Prof. Tucker: No, I think he just dies.
Kyle: I’d like to point out right now that those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Kyle: I think you really need to revise your definition of “feet”.

(Joel’s laptop starts making a weird beeping noise)
Tingley: Where is that noise coming from?
Joel: My laptop. And it’s never made that noise before. I didn’t think it was capable of making that noise.(pause)
Tingley We — we don’t have to flee the building?

Bladerunner: The Rape of Lucretia, that’s a nice story…

Dr. Patrick: (to Zack) Yes, your veins are fairly prominent!

Joel: Sir, if you had a knife, would you beat someone with it?
Rev. Hayman: I’d be inclined to use a hammer.

Dr. Patrick: So since you got the Templeton Prize, how has your life changed?
Dr. Heller: It has been RUINED.

Dr. Heller: Cosmology is more narrow. Cosmology is concerned with one thing only: the universe.

Joel: (on his scarf) It’s like a day-long hug from a very fluffy man.
Janice: Or an attempt to strangle you from a very weak man.

Tingley: When you hear people talk about art, what do you think of?
Zack: I think of film, actually.
Tingley: Well, you would, wouldn’t you.

Rev. Hayman: What does “amen” mean?
Zack: (remembering that we’d looked this up, but I couldn’t remember what it meant) …aw, crap.
Rev. Hayman: It does not mean “aw, crap”.

Tingley: Now, some people don’t like the word “argument”.
Zack: I like the word argument.
Tingley: We know you like it, Zack. That might be the first thing we learned about you.

Prof. Tucker: (on the Rime of the Ancient Mariner) First reactions?
Dave: I liked it.
Prof. Tucker: OK. Why?
Dave: Uhhh… it was cool…

Tingley: …the forum here was populated only by pigs, deer, and vegetables…

Bladerunner: What case is “tibi,” Kyle?
Kyle: Umm… dative?

Bladerunner: Dative. Dative, David. (pause) David dative. Dative David. (chuckles)

Karen: (on how she’d been using Emily’s method of abbreviaysh) I was doing the Scriptures reading and I thought, “justificaysh”.
Zack: Heh, and sanctificaysh.
Dave: Whoa, guys. That’s not funny. It has to do with your salvaysh!
Joel: (coming over) Hey guys, I really enjoyed that talk on the Transfiguraysh.

Kyle: I like carnage, OK? Nothing wrong with that.

Kyle: What did I tell you about dreamworlds of magic? No more dreamworlds of magic!

Tingley: Does everyone agree with that? Or do we have… dissenters?

Tingley: In a syllogism, two negatives don’t make a positive, they make a big nothing.

Tingley: Is it valid?
Joel: No. Yes.
Tingley: I got a “no” and a “yes”… FROM THE SAME PERSON!

Tingley: (speaking of Zack) I just wish we could dial the irony knob down, though…
Dr. Patrick: No no, rack it up!

Dave: I dunno… is there such a thing as too much Bach?
Prof. Warren: (immediately) No.

Joel: (on the garbage) It sounds like some fruity tree gone wrong.

Emly: I need something abrasive. Can I borrow your personality?

Nova: I feel like one big frozen nose.

Tingley: (looks at Joel’s tea) Looks like Joel’s poured himself a nice scotch.

Joel: Accept my hospitality or I’ll KILL YOU!!!

Nova: Somehow proximity to the food makes me feel safer.
Emly: You clearly haven’t seen me cook.

(watching Andrei Rublev)
Cyril: It’s like Ottawa: always winter.
Nova: But never Christmas!

Zack: Some people don’t think squirrels will be in heaven.
Emly: (in silly voice) Well, the people who think that are probably not going there anyway.

Rev. Hayman: Were you saying something, Samantha?
Samantha: Oh, I was just gonna say what Dave said.
Rev. Hayman. Oh. You might want to change that… I was about to rip him to shreds.

(Tingley rings “bell” for quiet in the class)
Joel: Every time you do that it makes me think of a wedding.
Tingley: What do I have to do to shut you up.

Cyril: (to Jesse) Ah, you Eastern Orthodox weren’t REALLY worshipping God this morning because you were praying in a language you could understand!

(Cyril says something about the pope)
Jesse: Who you worship.
Cyril: We VENERATE the pope, we do not WORSHIP him…
Jesse: Yes you do.

Liturgy is Like Maccaroni and Cheese?

Every family makes Maccaroni and Cheese a little bit differently. And each member of the family fixes the family recipe a bit differently.

Some cook it out-of-the-box and some cook it "out of the box." Some make it from scratch. Some use oddly shaped noodles. Some put in veggies and some put in meat. Some put in extra cheese. A few put in hot sauce. Some sprinkle on parsley or offer it as an optional side. Some eat it as is.

Among the veggie adders, one may encounter the advocates of brocculi, carrots, peas, tomatoes, and stranger animals. Among the meat includers one might meet mixers-in of hot dogs, sausage, ham, or weirder substances. And the advocates of cheese besprinkle the mac with breeds as various as the possibilities of that fungal growth.

Those are more of the purist cooks. Then you get the ones who like to experiment and mix. The ones who throw in all the leftovers from the fridge and hope no one notices the incompatible tastes. Or the ones who change the recipe every week, startling the tastebuds into a sort of annoyance.

But even this is still Maccaroni and Cheese.

There are still the noodles and there is still the cheese. Other little practices more or less compatible with the noodles and cheese may be added, but the basis of the Maccaroni and Cheese remains the same.

It's when the cooks start forget about the noodles and the cheese that the eater of Maccaroni and Cheese should get nervous. When the dish becomes more about how many colors of veggies can be fit into it, or how many leftovers can be used up in the process, or how different it can taste from Mrs. X's maccaroni and cheese, the eater fights an urge to panic and go back to plain noodles and cheese - no embellishments.

I like fried perch - but please don't put it in my Maccaroni and Cheese. Hot dog chunks, in the right proportion and right context, can serve and bring out the flavor of the cheese and texture of the noodles, but not always. Sometimes the hot dogs can distract from the dish itself. Even brocculi in the wrong amount, or cooked incorrectly, can simply deter a child from eating and enjoying his Maccaroni and Cheese. Something about the stringy green against the yellow disgusts him - he just can't bring himself to put a spoonful in his mouth. Brocculi, most often a wonderful addition to any dish of Maccaroni and Cheese, has become a stumbling block keeping the child from eating his dinner, or enjoying it if he does taste it.

Embelishments are supposed to enhance the eating of the Maccaroni and Cheese. Where they don't, oughtn't they be left out or introduced gradually, so that the eater's tongue may come to find them palatable?

On the other hand, noodles and cheese cannot be disposed of and ought to be of the finest quality if they can be had. If one were to make Maccaroni and Cheese without noodles or cheese, it would cease to be the dish it was meant to be. Elbow maccaroni is good, but bowties set off the dish as a work of genuine art-cookery. Processed Cheese-Food is satisfactory and suitable for simple lunches, but genuine Cheddar suggests an entree of special quality and excellence for an occasion of the same.

Am I going crazy? If not, what have I forgotten in this nice little comparison?

Headkerchiefs and Sarates are Back!

So...Very Inane Post comin' right up.

Headkerchiefs are back! I'd taken up the practice of regularly wearing a bandana or handkerchief on my head the past year and a half, but had been obliged to give it up on the occasion of Mommy accidentally taking all my kerchiefs back to MI with her when she dropped me off at Augustine. I was a bit perturbed, but lived well without them.

Now I have found them again! And will wear them...as often as I can. (One can't really wear them properly when one puts one's hair up)

I first began wearing the kerchiefs and bandanas for fun. Then I noticed that they were cooler and kept the sun and bugs off of me and the hair out of my face. Then I noticed that some of them looked really nice (and would dress up a plainer shirt if worn around the neck). And they became a mini-personal-Sarah-fad. (I go through cycles of hair styles and I figured this was another one of them.) I was aware of the whole Biblical head-covering thing, but I wasn't wearing the dewrags (as a dear friend calls them) for religious reasons at all (though I was mistaken for doing so several times.)

Then, last Higher Things Conference, I struck up several conversations with a nicely accented pastor (in the course of my usual tradition of "pastor stalking" with questions). And in the course of the conversation, he inquired about my head gear. I answered that.... (wow - I just can't get away from Thomistic phrasing, can I? :P ).... I wore the kerchief for fun. He proceeded to commend me for theological implications thereof, which I silently accepted with mirth at the bestowal. Anyway, it stuck with me and I'm onto a renewed sporadic donning of the simple hat for fun, beauty and theology.

I've also re-awakened "Sarates" - or rather, Dr. Tingley (Philosophy and Art Prof at Augustine) re-awakened her. I got the name by Socratic questioning of my carpooling buddies while commuting to community college. I more or less gave up the Socratic questioning over the last summer and through my experience at Hope. Now, "Sarates" is reinitiated and has begun her reign of terror over the universe (well, not quite, and slightly more benevolently). She may ask you a random string of questions without giving any indication of where she is going with this. If so, rest assured she's not trying to convince you of something: she's trying to see how you think and follow your assumptions to their logical end.

Anyway, if she asks you why you tie your shoes, be prepared for more questions to follow. (And please don't tell me it's because your parents trained you to do so, even if it's true. :P You are old enough now to not tie your shoes if you don't want to. You must want to because you're doing it. You have a will that is not totally constrained by any amount of parental conditioning.)

So, now to bed. It's nice to post a rambling, not very disturbing, deep, or significant post again. Tata!

In Which I Attend Pascha and Transgress Orthodox Doctrine

I have just returned from a Pascha service at my dear friend's Orthodox church. It was very beautiful and her spiritual father reminds me alot of the ones I'll be returning to shortly.

I was pleased to be able to follow the liturgy quite well and pick up the chant decently by the end. Most of the chanted texts were familiar to me - well, the ones in English, that is. (I've also learned that in an unfamiliar chanted liturgy, if you simply lag about one second behind a clear singer, you can get the pitch of the next note and clue into the word from the first phonetic syllable and the context.)

Needless to say, I was enjoying the liturgy, incense, prayers, candles, beautiful icons, etc so much that I my analyzing awareness had relaxed by the time we entered the Divine Liturgy. Not being on my toes, I started into the Nicene Creed as I normally do, stumbling a bit because the translation being recited (no handouts or hymnals) was somewhat different than the typical Western rendition. That should have clued me into other differences between West and East surrounding the Creed, but nooo. I keep stumbling on...

..."the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proceeds from the Father and the..... Oh!"

Suddenly, I felt a sharp elbow jab on my arm from Zack. I stopped, then realized what I had done! The Filioque in Orthodox Divine Liturgy! I almost burst out laughing, but jabbed Zack back instead. When I'd composed myself I snuck a peek at his face to see almost as big a grin as I had had on my own.

I'm still here. Nobody noticed the Western trespass on Eastern ground and I even got a blessing from Father M-- despite.

The Pascha service was beautiful and I'm very glad to have had this opportunity to attend such an important Christian service with my Orthodox friend, but all the same, I'll be glad to be back at my home parish in a week with my own dear Pastors and well-beloved liturgy.

Now to sleep before church tomorrow!

Hail Thee Festival Day!

Hail thee Festival Day! Blest Day to be hallowed forever. Day when our Lord was raised, breaking the kingdom of death!

Christ is Risen!

He is Risen indeed, Alleluia!

Christ is Risen!

He is truly Risen!

A holy kiss of this wonderous day to you all!

Unfortunately, I didn't get to sing Hail Thee Festival Day today. But apart from that, today was beyond amazing. Lest I forget it in the week of upcoming exams,* I'm going to try to record a bit of it here.

(Note: if you wish to read further, be aware that this post is quite slanted in the direction of the author's own opinion without any attempt at objectivity whatsoever.)

Last night I cast myself upon my bed having savored the first morsels of Easter munchables following an high Anglican Vigil and High Mass and having made more preparations for my feast today. (Did I mention that I was cooking in the kitchen from basically 7:30am to 5pm on Saturday?) I awoke at 5:15am, planning to mop the kitchen floor, take the chilled ham out of the freezer (which isn't really freezing), set out silverware, and sundry other minor dinner details. Instead I went back to bed for a scanty 15 minutes, before rising, dressing, grooming, and attending to ham & Co. Of course, I didn't have time to mop the floor.

I wore the same floral frock I have donned for the last 4 or 5 Easters - the one with with blue and purple flowers and a large, lace edged collar. Not exactly the warmest thing to wear for a freezing walk in the gray dawn, but I did sacrifice dress shoes for my dress boots (which are becoming very undressish now that I have walked in them for approximately an hour a day on hard concrete or salty slush since purchasing them.) Samantha and I set out at 6:20am for the Lutheran church I have been attending since my arrival here. The cold drove us to quite rapid speeds, and I think we broke my record for transit time to church - 25 minutes for what usually takes 30-40min.

Sunrise service was sparsely attended, unfortunately, but we sang four hymns (why couldn't we have sung more?) during the course of the service, used the whole of Divine Service Setting I (singing most parts = thumbs up), partook Eucharist (Praise be to Christ!), and I managed not cross myself too conspicuously (Why do I feel so self-conscious doing it in this church and not selfconscious at all in the other churches?). At the end of the service, the pastor called out from the back of the church, "He is Risen!" one last time. We responded, "He is Risen indeed!" -- At which he called out to us, "Good Job!" :P

Samantha and I betook ourselves to the basement and wolfed (in 15 min.) an excellent breakfast of pancakes, eggs, sausage, and coffee/hot chocolate (I skipped the caffeine for the fake chocolate). Then we high-tailed it out of there for the college, discussing the Blessed Virgin Mary and Other Assorted Saints (if you can abreviate BVM, why not OAS?) on the way. Samantha and I made it to the college to find Zack already there (you see, the man was our ride to his confirmation) donning confirmatory garb. I slipped the ham into the oven, remembering to turn the thing on, just in time to hop into the little blue car of Zack with Emily, Janice, and Samantha. (I wondered if Zach accompanied to his confirmation by four females might give the hens of the congregation cause to cackle. Apparently, the hens were ok, but why must all clergy be match-minded?)

We arrived a bit early (thank goodness! I was feeling quite, quite, quite ill [someone please teach me how to fast the Thurs-Fri-Sat without killing myself when I start to Pascally feast] but after a few minutes, I got over it) and took refuge beneath the earth - i.e. the basement - while the Matins above finished. I'm pretty sure that the Cathedral of the Annunciation could be the world's tiniest cathedral; it's at least in for the running. We packed the place full. The service was nifty, nice and liturgical. The biship was beaming, ruddily decked and toweringly hatted. The incense was strong, pervasive and cloudlike. Processions, liturgy, and curly bishop sticks are happy things. Zach sat in the front row (with his family) while the rest of us Augushteinians sat about 3/4 of the way from the front - which was still very close, distance-wise. Professor Tingley, his wife, and his two beautiful little daughters occupied the pew in front of us.

I liked the "Bish" (as Zach refers to him) a lot. What's not to like in full vestments and a high red hat which snaps open like a foldable laundry basket? I liked him even more when he compared the Holy Spirit to a wireless router. It sounds crazy, but the analogy totally worked - You can't see or explain how the Holy Spirit brings Christ to you, but He does. And making Zack explain the origins of the words "prevent" and "confirm" in Latin was brilliant. So the chap got confirmed, oiled, and blessed. (Dr.) Tingley stood up with him and was beaming that shy but very proud and happy Tingley sort of half smile. Of course, I didn't take the Eucharist, but I still opted for a blessing.
I actually really miss the communion blessing. I've almost been tempted in the past to ask my dear Pasto's for the blessing instead of the Sacrament, but I really want the Sacrament too.

After service, we took pictures of Zack and the Bishop; Zack, the Bish, the family; Zack, the Bish and Sponser/Standing-up-with-him-people (I don't remember what they're called). Yes, I got some pictures too. After all, I need a few un-nutty Zack pictures and how could I pass up snapping a photo of a real, live, uncaged Bishop? Then I ate food - confirmation refreshments - talked to other students, talked to Zack's family, talked to Zack's bishop who is a perfect mix of the corny and the ecclesiastic (He's Slightly Cwirlesque). Then we overloaded Zack's car by adding in Joel - who had also made it to the confirmation via another ride. On the way back, a strange golden onion-topped something piqued our curiousity so we pursuaded Zack to divert our route by it. We stopped so Joel could go up to it and read the label. He had to jump right through the hedge; he couldn't go around by the sidewalk. :P It turned out to be a ROCOR (Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia) and we spent the rest of the ride home discussing this phenomenon and noting police cars apparently watching tiger-flag waving protesters.

On returning home, I rescued the overflowing ham juice from the ham, basted and put the ham back in the oven, and devoted myself to completing dinner prep. I'll spare you, dear reader, a step by step commentary - other than that I shooed the boys out of the kitchen - but I must outline the menu:

Honey-Wheat bread and rolls
Mashed Potatoes
Honey,Lemon,Ginger Carrots
Mixed Veggies (corn, green beans, peas)
Pineapple, honey(+mustard) glazed ham
Devilled Monks (will discuss below)
Raspberry layered Jello
Lettuce Salad with other luscious toppings
Sliced Strawberries
Peach Crisp
Donuts
Strawberry Milkshake

It was A TON of work, but it was absolutely magnificent!
Devilled Monks are my own creation. It came to me that I should gratify Emily's monk obsession by making devilled eggs in the form of Saxon monks. (Heehee!) I boiled the eggs, cut about a fourth inch off the top, and scooped out the yolk. I put the filling back in, pressing it out flat on the top to make a cm margin of yellow around the edges of the egg, and put the cap back on: visualize a yellow tonsure. Then I dipped a toothpick in balsamic vinegar and poked in little dark holes for eyes and smiley mouth. (Emily screamed and hugged me when she saw them: that made the trouble totally worth it.) Pictures might be forthcoming.

Anyway, I laid a nice table - sit down meal with table cloth, ceramic Easter table service, pretty serving bowls, etc. We were expecting 9 people for dinner - one didn't show up, but an extra did. We started late because of delay in arrivals at around 3:15pm; the food had started to cool, but that was ok. All in all we had:

Emily - sort of sub/honorary RA
Samantha - student
Zack - student
Joel - student
Jesse - Orthodox Clingon
Cyril - Eastern Catholic Clingon
Elizabeth - Orthodox Clingon
Reita - Anglican (becoming) Clingon

We ate, and ate, and talked, and sang some hymns, and talked, and then Cyril got up to go to church again, and we kept talking, and then the rest got up to go to church, etc at about 6:30pm.

Then Emily, Samantha and I headed to the chaplaincy (Da Place ov Cyril - hee hee) for Eastern Catholic Agape Vespers. It was lovely! We sang, we were "attentive" to "widom," the rather young priest (English is definitely not his first language, but his accent is beautiful) read/preached a sermon that I'd bet is from Chrysostom, though I'm not certain. It was so, so beautiful. We sang some more wonderful liturgy, got "incensed," and cried "Christ is Risen!" - "He is truly Risen!" responsively. Toward the end of the liturgy, while singing a beautiful resurrection chorus, people began to line up to kiss the icon of Christ. After kissing the icon, they began to greet the priest and each other by kissing each other on each cheek saying "Christ is Risen!" - "He is Truly Risen!"
At first, Emily, Samantha and I stood on the sidelines watching the joyful greetings. Having figured out the chorus, I was singing it with all my heart - "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and on those in the tombs bestowing life." After a few minutes, Harold, our Student Life Director worked his way over to us and greeted me in the same manner - "you can't come and not participate in the greeting." I was glad to receive it. A few others also extended greetings (kisses included in the package.) After about five minutes of this, Rebecca, Harold's wife, joyfully called out to us, "come, come! This isn't for Catholics only! You don't need to kiss the icon, but you must have a blessing and join us in greeting!" I could resist no longer. Sure, I wanted a blessing from the glowing priest; yes, I wanted to rub cheeks with every last person in that room and exclaim, "Christ is Risen!" - "He is Truly Risen!" a billion times! It was awesome!

After it was all over, Harold invited us to a Ukrainian Easter Party. "Hey, why not?" thought I. Oh, my goodness! Do Ukrainians know how to feast! There was enough rich pastries and cheeses and meat (especially pork sausages) to sink a battleship. And I have no idea how they fit so many people into that tiny little house. There were at least 10 families - kids included, plus single students. I didn't do much talking - watching Ukrainian Catholic culture keep Easter feast was pretty fascinating. Yes, there was the unavoidable beer keg, wine, and other such beverages. I opted for fresh apple cider. The trick to amusing one'self at parties where one is unfamiliar with the culture and ignorant of the language that half of the company speaks is to evesdrop on interesting conversations. Every now and again, several people would call relatives or friends, holding up their cell phones while the entire company sang rousing Easter hymns in Ukrainian (I think that's what it was) or English.

And now I'm home again, terribly tired out by cooking and feasting and singing. Tomorrow is my last day to study for exams and I haven't even begun. Yet, the Feast of Easter merits a break from academic pursuits. I don't regret it.

I'm especially glad that my dinner turned out so well. I've been planning it for some time. I was told by my guests that if I ever want to catch a husband, all I need to do is give the man that ham. Nice try boys. And Zack and Joel plotted to kidnap me to feed them and Emily to entertain them. :D It's nice to know that I can actually plan a feast and pull it off well. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment - a feeling like I've mastered something important - and it satisfies my feminine impulse to feed and nurture.

But I've a feeling I'll be eating leftover donuts for the next few days...

*Professor Bloedow gleefully explained that our upcoming αγων (test, contest) is the root of the English word "agony." Thanks Dr. Bloedow.

I and Thou - my bed, shower, etc

I have just finished a very confusing, but fascinating assignment on Martin Buber.

And I am planning on treating my bed as an It. I have no desire at all to enter into relation with Bed tonight - you see, I plan to experience the bed, feel the warmth, sense the softness, smell, the freshness. I have absolutely no desire to contemplate the bed, saying "You" to it with all my being while it reciprocates saying "You" to me with all its being. Bed will likely always reside in Thinghood for me. Sorry, Bed.

Now a shower, that's another matter. I could almost say "You" with my whole being as I contemplate a Shower as it is in its being. Perhaps after a long, cold camping trip in the backwoods...

Forget about people right now. I'm too tired to say "You" to them. My 'being' needs to be recharged by experiencing some "It"s through snoozing.

Perhaps more on Buber later - some serious instead of frivolous thoughts.
To all my readers, I say "You" to You! :P

That probably made no sense at all, but that is all right. After all, if You are really a You, there can be no mediation between us...

Save me from Mrs. P!: Or, I'm so, so sorry and guiltily ashamed of myself...

I'm upstairs cringing in a corner. Yes, I am, all 18 years of me.

Worse than that, it's not even my own corner I'm hiding in, it's Samantha's room. I'm too scared to hide by myself.

Why, you ask, am I - a college student - shamefacedly hiding in an upstairs room?

Because I didn't do my kitchen chores.

Laugh if you will. I can't help laughing myself, even while I feel a strange mixture of shame, apprehension, and sorrow. I'm so, so, so very sorry, Janice. (Though she can't hear me.)

You see, dear reader, there was to be a meeting of the college faculty this very evening (which is in fact, going on whilst I furtively type). Accordingly, we were asked to tidy things up a tad bit before they all arrived. Our R.A., Janice, had dinner engagements and as things ended up, only Samantha and I were left at the college. Being the lazy, slovenly sloths we are, we tidied up a minimum in the living room and class room, went on a walk, bought two very large luscious brownies from a local baker, came back, cooked brussel sprouts and cabbage and ate pickles, requiring me to open the perpetually smelly downstairs refrigerator which seemed unaccountably stinky tonight, left our dirty dishes in the sink, and headed upstairs to make a halfhearted attempt at homework as faculty cars arrived.

Of course, none of the faculty would walk through the kitchen, I reasoned as I laid down my pickle and cabbage stinking utensils. It would prove a much rued thought in retrospect.

I had barely bestowed myself in my room over various parchments, electronic and otherwise when I heard the door open and several persons enter. Suddenly, I heard a voice that halted my heart and seized it as in a chill ever tightening vise.


"Thomas [name changed]! What is that horrible smell!?!" A high woman's voice rose in what seemed an English strain of disapproval and concerned shock.
"It's cooking, my dear," a heavily British male voice replied calmly.
"Are you sure it's not the drains?!?" Every word carried easily into my room. I could not decipher his response.

It was the Mistress of the Establishment: Mrs. P, herself. Not that she would think of herself that way - she wouldn't - but being herself, she was the unconscious chatelaine of our group of young females to whom the thought of imminent encounter with Mrs. Dr. P would hurl into a frenzy of cleaning, sweeping junk under rugs, tidying, and de-odorizing. Never had I dreamt this day of Her entering the kitchen, our mess exposed to her eyes.

I shivered. I heard her voice beneath me, her steps toward the kitchen. I thought of the cluttered counter, the unwashed pots on the stove, the dishes in the sink. I saw in my minds eye, Janice, innocent, receiving a scolding for a catastrophe she did not create, domestic dirt she had dutifully consigned to our care. I shivered again and shuddered. Suddenly I was overwhelmed by an insurmountable desire for human company - for the commiseration of fellow sinners.

Ever so silently, I crept out of my room and tapped soundlessly on Samantha's door. "Samantha," I whimpered. "Come in," I heard her whisper, and I did. We looked at each other, the horror of realization visible in our faces. "That's S. isn't it," she said. I nodded, wishing with all my might that it were any other lady. "It never crossed my mind that she would come tonight," I offered, whispering, and we continued in soundless interjections of repentence and guilty confession recounting all the multiple things which were out of order on the floor below and which must perforce meet with disapprobation the cultured senses of M' Lady.

"Oh, if she should come up the stairs!" I gasped, and shivered with the horror of the possible event - horrible in it's possibility, possible on account of it's horror. I will not burden you, dear reader, with an account of the current state of the upstairs domain of the women, only suffice it to say that the current state is the past state under the effect of the Thermodynamic Second Law and as no outside force has acted upon it, it has with rapid, unfaltering motion careened in the direction of increasing entropy.

Noises from the kitchen indicated a busy cleaning and tidying. A new horror. And shame. Now we couldn't even sneak down and set all to order while everyone was in the meeting.

"Samantha," I whined, "can I come hide in your room with you?" We had both concluded that neither of us would be leaving the room while the Entity was busy below. She assented, and here have I remained, curled taunt in a corner, typing out the circumstances of my hilarious miserable guiltiness.

********************************************************************
I heard Janice's footsteps on the stair. Furtively, I crept from Samantha's corner and intercepted her near her room. Red of face, I confessed our...urm...situation at which Janice laughed soundlessly, silently shaking from amusement. Relieved, I laughed with her. No, she hadn't expected us to clean up any more, yes, Mrs. P would see a speck of dust anywhere. Still snickering, she padded down the stairs to the meeting.

I felt as if a load had dropped from my shoulders. It had. But I'm still not going to go downstairs until my lady leaves....
Pardon the cowardice. :P

How many male students does it take to change Professor Bloedow's tire?

Setting up the scenario:

Frigid temperatures
Steeply inclined street
Old, beat up car
Flat tire
Senior professor
Four strong male students
One hour (during Greek Class)

Goal: Tire Change

I'm hearing this second hand, but I wish I could have seen it myself and taken some pictures. Apparently, the little jack kept slipping - dropping the car onto the boys. The brakes worked on the front tires - unfortunately, the flat tire was on the front. It took all four of them to lift the car to reinstate the jack, hold the car from rolling down the slope, and change the tire without the car falling again. And also, a whole hour in the freezing cold.

Like I said, someone should have snapped some photos.

Two Down; One, Two, Three, Four to go!

My Philosophy term paper and my Music term paper are complete! God has done great things for me!

Now I have a Music midterm exam on Wednesday, an Art term paper due the 17th, a Scripture term paper due less than a week thereafter, a Science term paper due within this month, and a Literature term paper due by the end of term. Augh!

Basically, I first need to find some commentary on a couple paintings of the Trinity, and I'll be ready (more or less) to go for the Art Paper. The Scripture paper should take no more than a Friday and a Saturday. The Science paper will likely form itself into a creative letter to the professor, just being my blunt self. And for the Literature paper, I'm thinking of examining the likeness between Lilith in George MacDonald's Lilith and Orual in C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces. Both headstrong, stubborn to their own harm, females needing to be shaken up a bit...Hmmm. I wonder why I like that notion?

I had better go to sleep now. After all, I Kant write four papers post - Hume - ously...


(Please, someone, get the joke.)

Contra Dance tonight at All Saints

I spent the last 3 hours contra-dancing at All Saints, an Anglican church not three doors down. I have not words - or rather, I do have words, but my expression could not craft them properly.

I love contra dance. It's simpler than Scottish country dance because there's no footwork, but it has that same group style. Except, you stay with your partner (generally) throughout and are grouped by pairs, in squares, within lines.

Though I've contra-danced before, I've never been to an open (public) contra-dance. Granted, it's not quite as fun when you don't know all the people (but in a way, it's more freeing). One of the guys in my class invited us girls, but none of the others ended up coming. I couldn't resist. It's been so long since I danced and there is something in me which delights to dance with groups, to be absorbed into the flow and swirl of syncronized human beings catching, twirling, and swinging each other.

I had worked all day (strange how my Saturdays are becoming homework days) looking forward to this evening's reward. I must confess that I did spend twenty minutes engaging in feminine peacockery, picking clothes, doing hair, and (don't anybody laugh) putting on a bit of makeup to cover the acne outbreak and the healing scars. My togs were simple, but, I thought, quite nice; riding boots, green skirt, light pink blouse, jean jacket, two French braids tied about an inch from the head so that the rest fell free. I wasn't sure how "dressed up" people got for these functions, and as things turned out, I was right in the middle of the spectrum.

Zach and I walked over for the brief instruction period before the dance started, which proved immensely helpful in cleaning the rust off my memory. The dances, themselves whirled their way as the biggest blast of the past month. The experienced dancers guided our movements, and after a few minutes with one of them for a partner, clumsiness melted, at least partially, away.

Talk about sweat! I shed my jean jacket after the first dance, but soon was completely drenched anyway.

It was a gathering of diverse nationalities. I was mistaken by two gentlemen for Eastern European, and by one for having French origins. In addition I was paid the honor of a bow and a kiss upon introduction ... on the hand of course! Maybe our young men should be taken to dances to learn manners from their elders, no?
Sadly, I had to turn down a dance with the said gentleman as I had need to take some rest before church tomorrow.

One quickly learns to let herself be guided while paying close attention so as to render the gentleman's task as easy as possible. One also learns to synchronize her "bounces" with her partner when swung (if the gentleman chooses to bounce). The gentleman does best to have a firm grasp so that the lady can have both support as she balances in the spin and resistance to move.

I need sleep so I should wrap up the post. But I'm looking forward to contra-dances often in the next few months.

Oh, one thing more. Zach had gone back to the college while I stayed for one last dance. But to my surprise, when I finally left, he was waiting to walk me home. Apparently, he had been to the college and back. He didn't have to do that and it was kindly thought of. Marvellous night.

Doughnuts, Anyone?

Tonight, I managed to almost catch the house on fire. I'll explain later. (Hyperbole, by the by.)

I also made doughnuts, which are delicious, with the aid of my friend, Samantha. While doing so, we discovered a mutual appreciation of Michael Card and spent the next few hours while the doughnuts were frying and we were cleaning listening to his songs. And what do you know? One of our RA's walked into the kitchen. "Is that Michael Card?" she said. "Wow! I can't believe I'd forgotten about him." And she joined us singing.
It was great, but now it's late, and I must go to bed.
The doughnut's fate - for me must wait; until I rest my head.

:P