Just so I don’t get nagged…

Since I bug other people about not blogging, I feel like I need to keep it movin’ myself, or risk putting foot in mouth. Not that I don’t do that enough anyway…

This has been a big year, and it’s only April. And barely that. Thus far this year I’ve 1)Started doing spiritual direction, 2)Started looking for a house (not to buy, but to live in with my roommates, but this means that the idea, once so scary, of Moving Off Gagely, may actually become a reality), and 3)Become way more open to myself and God and others and all of that than I ever thought possible. And I still have so very far to go. 3, above, is what makes all the rest of this feel so big. I feel like, if you had met me in December and someone else met me now, they would be meeting different people. Not entirely, though sometimes it feels that way from the inside.

I actually bought shoes with cute flowers on them today. Wow…me…and flowers.

And now some funny quotes from Frederica Mathewes-Green that made me laugh in the Poustinia this weekend (from Facing East: A Pilgrim’s Journey into the Mysteries of Orthodoxy):

(On Orthodox Lent) “My Byzantine Catholic friend, Connie, cooks (a phrase that rings to me like “…navigates warships”) and early in Lent came over with a twenty-five pound bag of navy beans. All she wanted to do was share them. I welcomed her at the back door but inwardly began to fret. What do you do with raw beans? How do you store them? Should I get a plastic bucket, or do they need to breathe? A big paper bag? But would bugs get in and eat them? Should I put them in the refrigerator? Should they be kept moist or dry?
I realized that Gary was urgently needed in this situation. I hollered up the stairs to him, trying to conceal my panic. What I wanted to say was, “Help! Help! Someone is trying to bring beans into the house!” Sure enough he appeared, brave and competent as ever, and pured half the bag of beans inot a plastic bucket. Everybody needs a hero, and mine is the guy who knows beans.”

(On Avoiding Hypothermia) “If I button the collar of my blue winter jacket, the opening fits just right around my glasses, and I can peer out through the circle meant for my neck. I’m waling around this way in the dark, and I”m glad that it’s dark because I’d rather not have anyone see me.
When I finished at the gym, I had an hour to pass before Vespers–not enough time to fight the holiday traffic home. I drove, instead, to the Episcopal convent a few blocks from Basil’s house, thinking I’d walk around the grounds here for a while. But my hair was still wet from swimming laps, and I had no hat, which in this twenty-degree chill amounts to a prescription for hypothermia. It seemed like a stroke of genius when I figured that I could slip my arms out of the sleeves and wear my jacket as a sort of misshapen tent. Still, it wasn’t the kind of genius you necessarily want people to observe.”

She sad some rather fascinating serious stuff, too, but I’ll save that for another time.

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