Watching Football While Wired

Hopefully all my readers had a good weekend. Friday we had a birthday party for Kathbert, whose birthday was actually last Monday. Luxuli and her husband, Catzooks and her boyfriend, and I converged upon Richard Bonomo’s house for ravioli, red wine, salad, chocolate cake, and apple pie bread. Catzooks and her boyfriend gave Kathbert a six-pack of Fatty Boombalatty beer, which is becoming a tradition for them. Luxuli had found an abandoned and severely trimmed hibiscus on the curb, but we couldn’t find a pot large enough for it, so right now the root ball is wrapped in a garbage bag and then set in a cardboard box. Not the most ideal of situations…

Saturday Travalon had to work, so I hung out with the Rosary Ladies. Jilly Moose, Luxuli, and I met for coffee with some other people, then we helped plant tulip bulbs up at the Stations of the Cross where the cathedral used to be, and then Jilly Moose and I had a light lunch because in the evening we all got together with OK Cap for dinner. I had a 20% off coupon for the whole table, so I kind of splurged and had a petite steak with lobster on it. (Sorry to my vegetarian readership! I do like a medium rare steak now and then.) Then I had a chocolate Guinness shake for dessert. Luxuli was so impressed with it that she tried her hand at making some the next day, and they were even better than the restaurant’s!

Yesterday I overslept and missed my usual Mass but ironically did go to the Lutheran church for Reformation, although I got there late and missed two of the three pieces the choir sang. Since I was having so much trouble getting going, I had not one but two cups of Reformation Roast there. Then Travalon came up and said he would like to see the bubbling springs at Pheasant Branch which I had posted a video of on YouTube, so we went for a hike there. It was such a beautiful day; I wouldn’t mind autumn so much if it were always like yesterday afternoon. Then we went to a newish bar on State Street called 608 because they advertised banana Nutella wontons, which really are just as good as they sound. We went to 5 pm Mass and then had some coffee at our usual coffee place, Espresso Royale, so then I was really wired. We went to Rich’s house to watch the Packers demolish the Vikings, and everyone was much amused by me since I was so animated. I even got exercise during the game, because I kept jumping up and down while hollering at the TV. Travalon said he liked seeing me so wired, but it wasn’t such good news when I tried to go to sleep! Yet somehow today I am not too tired – maybe I am still a little wired? I did have my usual two cups of coffee this morning.

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Lutheran Cathedral Cookbook Potluck

Saturday night Richard Bonomo and I went to a potluck at Lutheran Cathedral of the West, and I brought my 1942 cookies, which were a big hit. What I hadn’t realized is that it was a Lutheran Cathedral cookbook potluck, so we were supposed to make a recipe from their brand-new cookbook. However, the parish had created a cookbook previously, and it just happened to be in 1942, so then everyone thought my cookies were from the original cookbook so I actually looked cooler than everyone else, not more clueless. Rich, of course, was the man of the hour because of his speech defending their church. There was a raffle in which everyone seemed to win except for Banjo Player’s husband and me, and a Lutheran Cathedral trivia game that our table did terribly on, since we were either not parishioners or relatively recent ones. What did we not win? The chance to have our photos taken while wearing paper chef hats and holding plastic spoons! So you can see what a disappointment that was. What I really was disappointed about was that the bus buddy who gave me the 1942 cookie recipe, who is a member of Lutheran Cathedral, injured her knee and so was not at the potluck. I was imagining the look on her face when I told her where I got the recipe!

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Happy Ascension! (One Day Late)

Yesterday I had a moment that might be as close to perfection as one can have in this life. I was sitting on my balcony, admiring my plants in the golden evening light, when a tiny hummingbird flew up to my blooming orchid. It had second thoughts, either about the orchid or because of me, and zipped off into the soft evening air, but it was still a delightful little guest.

Then I went to the Lutheran church for their Ascension potluck and service. (Generally our church does nothing for Ascension, since it is moved to the following Sunday, but apparently this year they had a high Tridentine Mass, and by the time I learned about it, I'd already promised to attend the Lutherans' celebration.) One woman brought lasagne made with spinach pasta, so that it looked like it was full of green peppers. People who hate green peppers didn't try any, and those of us who love them thought the peppers really added to the flavor. There's the power of suggestion for you! Their service was beautiful and simple, moving from the outside courtyard to the narthex to the west transept, and the closing hymn was the gorgeous tune "Bryn Calfaria." (They tell me this is the Episcopalian in my blood, that I am obsessed with hymn tune names. Catholics and Lutherans usually just refer to them by the lyrics, as in "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence" versus "Picardy.")

True story about hymn tunes: four years ago I was on a HUGE kick about this, totally obsessed, and I looked up a bunch of my favorite hymns to find out their tune names. Then I wrote a story for my OTHER choir director using these names for the characters and places in the story. The hymns that had tune names that were long, unwieldy German phrases I simply incorporated into the story in their English translations, such as "If you but trust in God to guide you." This story is called "Polyhymnia," as in "many songs," and it's all over the place now because people kept giving copies to other people, but I do diss a well-known Catholic songwriter (who is actually now UCC) so hopefully I don't get sued for libel! (Then again, the songwriter in question does have an entire website dedicated to how much people can't stand him, so I am the least of his problems.)

Have a fabulous holiday weekend! I am hoping to get to the farmer's market for the first time this year. Yes, how lame is that? I haven't been yet. It's either been lousy weather or I've been in Missouri for a wedding. My office mate is taking today and Tuesday off, so I thought it would be quiet and boring here at work, but I got pulled into an argument between two other parties over conference rooms. Good times. Fortunately I was able to engineer a peaceful solution. (Famous Hat to the rescue again!) In case you have not had a chance to get to a farmer's market yet, or worse, they don't have one where you are, I am posting a photo Palm Tree Fan took of some tulips she bought recently at the farmer's market so you can feel like you are there right now, drinking coffee and eating a scone and admiring produce and flowers.

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You Seder Mater, I Seder Matter

Today's Lenten reflection is on the Eucharist and its connection to Passover. Last night I went to a Christian seder at a neighborhood Catholic church, and the connection between the Passover Seder and the Christian Mass couldn't have been clearer. In the seder, we commemorate the blood of a lamb saving the nation of Israel; in the Mass, we commemorate the blood of the Lamb saving the whole world. At the seder, the father of the family holds up the matzo and breaks it; at the Mass, the priest holds up the host (which is made of unleavened bread) and breaks it.

This is the second Christian seder I've been to, and both times I had an unfortunate fit of "the giggles," which has (thankfully!) never plagued me during the Mass. The first time we were reading from a book typed up by a woman whose fiance was in medical school. He dictated the word "period" wherever he wanted her to put one, but in one case she accidentally typed the word "period," which would not have been SO bad, except it was at the end of the line of a psalm that said: "And death is not the end." Period. Last night I had trouble keeping a straight face as we were dropping wine onto our plates for each plague, and as the "father" recited each one, we intoned it like a bunch of zombies after him. When we got to "frogs," I had to fight not to burst into laughter. Partly it's just the sound of the word (imagine a bunch of zombies droning "frogs") and partly it's the concept. I mean, no wonder Pharoah wouldn't let Moses's people go free! What the heck would a "plague of frogs" entail? "Gosh, Joseph, there sure are a lot of frogs around lately." AND....? Most of the other plagues sound awful, but FROGS? They don't bite, they don't eat crops, and they're frankly kind of cute.

The other moment when I almost burst into helpless laughter last night was when they told us about the dessert; they said, "This cake is thousands of years old. It symbolizes the bricks the Israeli slaves used to build in Egypt." Anna Banana II and I just exchanged a glance. If the cake was that old, it wasn't just a SYMBOL of a brick anymore! Of course what they meant was that the TYPE of cake was thousands of years old, but that's not what they said... I said to Anna Banana II, "I wonder if we could get a more recent piece of cake... like one baked within the last couple of days!" But I will say that the cake was delicious, a dense honey cake.

Friday night Cecil Markovitch declared it was "Lutherans' Night Out," but Kathbert wouldn't come with us to the fish fry, so it was "Lutheran's Night Out" since my OTHER choir director was the only Lutheran there. Cecil said his favorite Lutheran joke was: "What do you call Lutherans from Duluth? Dulutherans!" and I wondered what the jokes were like that didn't make the cut! Then we got in this crazy conversation about the Lutheran's nice nursing nurse niece. Rich Bonomo, Anna Banana II, A-Fooze, and the B-Boys were among the others at Lutheran's Night Out. (We have to miss Frog's Night Out - no joke - because it is inconveniently scheduled for Maundy Thursday.)

Saturday morning my acoustic band had a gig at a nature center to celebrate maple sugar. Afterwards we went to the little zoo they have there, of native animals, and on the way back some brain trust was walking backwards up the path, and as I swerved to avoid him, I tripped and twisted my right ankle (the one I've sprained twice) and then landed on my left knee (the one that was still bruised from skiing last weekend). And that is why I did not do any training for the triathlon this weekend!

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The Cat Is the Hat

Last night for Epiphany we did exactly nothing at Our Lady of Perpetual Sobriety because "Epiphany" was moved to last Sunday, so I was forced to celebrate with the Lutherans. As they always do, the Lutherans marked the occasion with a potluck and then singing. Being ultra-polite (or as they say, "Minnesota nice" although this is not Minnesota), nobody would eat the last bite of anything at the potluck so we all had one scoop of food left in our serving dishes. That made cleaning up quite interesting!

Then I went home and played with my menagerie. For footage of Aimee and Allie, watch this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6s_UQxbMOyw

(That is Hardingfele, not me, making the un-PC crack about them!)

I know a woman who was once in the Peace Corps in Lesotho, and she said it was like living in a Dr. Seuss book. The people in Lesotho (which is pronounced "Lesootoo") are called the Besotho (pronounced "Besootoo") and speak Sesotho (pronounced - how else? - "Sesootoo"). Then there are the giant aloe vera trees everywhere, which she says look like the bizarre vegetation in Dr. Seuss's tomes. To top it all off (so to speak), her cat disappeared one day, and not long after that she saw a man wearing a hat that looked oddly familiar. At that she decided she should write a Seussian book of her adventures in Lesotho, and of course the title would be The Cat Is the Hat. So far as I know, however, she has not done so, thus depriving the world of this moving story until this very moment.

In case you were wondering what a cat as a hat looked like, here is a picture of my office mate's kitten sleeping on her husband's head. (It's my officemate's husband, not the kitten's.)


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