Scratch That Bit About the Leaves. This News Is Way Better.

My good friend from college, Meichell, is going to Korea next week to pick up her son. While I'm heading down to Georgia to visit my family, she'll be heading into long-awaited motherhood. And a little boy who really needs some special care and love is going to get it. I couldn't be happier for them. Congratulations, guys!

Green Things! Here! In Quebec!

I never thought I'd be one of those people who complained about the weather. I normally enjoy winter, and I love snow. But Quebec has broken me. Sure, it would get cold in New York, but not this cold. So I nearly cried when I woke up yesterday morning and saw this:


You see that? Green stuff! On trees! Here! We came up in mid-May last year to find our apartment, and by then everything was green. So I know in another few weeks this place is going to be blooming. Winter coats can be put away. The indoor farmer's market will be outdoors again. It will be time to start thinking about tomatoes and peppers.

The funny thing is, even though I've complained relentlessly about the extreme cold, I love the change of seasons. I know in October or November when there's a chill in the air and we get those first few snowflakes, I'll be happy to see them. I'll sit in the chair by the window, drink hot tea, and watch them slowly cover our lawn. But right now I'm hoping for a long, hot summer.

Making Breakfast

In keeping with my promise to myself, I started making yogurt last week. I've been making granola for awhile, and together the two make a great breakfast. Especially with maple syrup drizzled over the top. I just posted recipes (of a sort) here.

I'm working on cheese now. I made a kind of ricotta this week, but have to wait on supplies to make the more serious stuff. It's gonna be good!

Weekend Summary

Friday:

12:00--lose job (expected, still annoying)

Saturday:

8:00--wake up to very warm weather, sunshine, chirping birds, happy cats
9:00--Xander washes face, discovers hole in rusty pipe under sink, water runs all over floor
9:05--clean up wet floor
10:00--inform landlord of problem, who also discovers clogged pipes while making repairs
10:30--leave landlord with plumbing problems, go for long bike ride by river
11:15--Xander gets flat tire
11:20--have picnic by river, lament lack of emergency tire repair kit
11:45--begin walking to metro
12:15--Alana discovers gum on her shoe
12:20--continue walking to metro
12:30--Xander discovers gum on his shoe
12:40--continue walking to metro
1:15--finally get to metro, Xander's metro card malfunctions, wait on lady in booth to help
2:30--arrive home, find landlord still under sink fixing plumbing, feel guilty
3:30--get over guilt, leave for bike shop, see wonderful neighbor who informs us he has tires that fit Xander's bike
4:00--Xander and wonderful neighbor fix bike, landlord fixes plumbing, Xander finds discarded basket for my bike and attaches it
5:00--decide to have glass of wine to relieve stress, this happens:


5:15--Xander wrestles cork from bottle with pliers!
7:00--go to dinner with friends, refused service at favorite restaurant
7:15--find other restaurant, ignored by staff for 40 minutes, never even get to order drinks
8:00--find better restaurant, enjoy tasty food and beer

Sunday:

12:00--go for long bike ride...a very long bike ride
4:00--come home from long bike ride, massage sore bum, lament having gone on long bike ride
4:10--shower
4:30--take nap

On Religion (with footnotes by Eddie Izzard)

I've wanted to write a post about religion for months now, but it just seemed like such a daunting task that I kept putting it off. The subject keeps popping up, though, so I've been thinking about it a lot. I thought I'd try to muddle through my thoughts here in the hope of creating a reasonably concise "thanks but no thanks" response to any would-be suitors.

I grew up in the Bible Belt. The biggest church in town was the Baptist church, and most everyone I knew went there. There was no Episcopal church, so I church hopped just to hang out with my friends more. None of my friends had ever heard of Episcopalians. People thought we were Catholic for awhile, and most of them thought Catholics were going to hell for "worshipping Mary." I had exactly one Jewish friend in high school. I don't think any Muslim or Buddhist or Hindu kids ever crossed the threshold. (At our last reunion, someone from my high school said she hopes "people like that never come here.") Before and after most sporting events, the coach would make the players pray to Jesus. When I was around twelve, I was told by a minister that my soul was at risk because I had not been properly baptized and that I should be baptized again in--you guessed it--the Baptist church. People used their "faith in Jesus" as a crutch to support all kinds of things, from getting drunk to gossiping to being judgmental and cruel. Because all they had to do was ask for forgiveness and their sins were "washed away."

My favorite example of what Christianity meant to the folks in my hometown occurred when I was a teenager and participated in a Church youth group. We had been preached to over and over again about the importance of remaining chaste. (Abstinence only!) It was also hinted at repeatedly that if we were to slip up and get pregnant, the right thing to do was get married and raise that baby. Under no circumstances whatsoever should abortion be considered, because abortion is murder and murder a sin, and that forgiveness thing only applies to certain sins, you see. Anyway, one of the young couples in our youth group got pregnant. They decided to get married and raise that baby. We knew their families weren't wealthy, so we kids decided we should have a baby shower to help them get started. We were told that no, we could not be permitted to throw them a shower because that would be condoning their sinful behavior. (Because apparently we kids were stupid enough to think, "Hey! If we get pregnant people will give us stuff! Let's go for it!") I probably don't need to explain to you that this was the exact opposite of what I felt like Christianity was supposed to be about. In fact, a lot of the stuff people said and did in the name of Jesus in that town had nothing to do with Jesus. It had to do with status in the community, with vanity, with selfishness, with hate and judgment. Whenever a newcomer came to town, the local churches would vie for their business like used car salesmen. When people said, "We missed you at church last Sunday," it most often was not because they really wanted to see you. It was because they wanted everyone around to know they had been at church and you hadn't.

So for years I gave up on Christianity all together. I remained obsessed with religion and churches, though, so I studied religious art and architecture in college and graduate school. I became enamored with Celtic Christianity and Catholicism. I traveled through Europe a few times and saw countless beautiful churches. And then we moved to New York. Not only was there an Episcopal church eight blocks away, but it was a beautiful Gothic cathedral--the largest in the world. The building itself was inspirational, but so was the mission and the people. They believed in evolution and dinosaurs. They had an AIDS memorial and supported equal rights for gays. They had a homeless shelter and soup kitchen. They offered services in Spanish. They hosted all sorts of performances and exhibitions. They had a high-wire artist-in-residence. They held annual blessings for bikes and animals. They believed in peace and caring for the earth. But most importantly, they welcomed people of all faiths. In fact, their founding mission was and is to be "a house of prayer for all people," and who could argue with that?

My main problem with Christianity is Jesus. I thought I was the only one who had this problem, but there are more of us than you might think. I don't believe he was born of a virgin. I don't believe he is the path to salvation because I don't believe in hell, and I'm awfully unsure of heaven. I don't believe he was resurrected. I don't even believe he was The Only Son of God. (Blasphe-me! Blasphe-you!) But I do believe he existed, and I believe he was a revolutionary leader who inspired many people. I believe strongly in love, and that is what I choose to take as his central message. And this is why I had so many problems with the brand of Christianity many of the folks in my hometown practiced. It had very little to do with love and everything to do with feeling superior to others.

So basically I see Jesus as a political figure. And I like his politics enough that I've decided to become a supporter, to contribute to the campaign. I choose to participate in this particular religion because it's already part of my history, because there's a comfort in saying the same creeds every single week just like countless people have done before me. But I love religion as a whole. The evolution of the various religions, their places in people's lives, the way they provide structure and comfort to communities...it's wonderful. Religion is a way of filling in the gaps, of making us feel better about things we don't understand. Religion is not really based on facts or some universal truth, and I'm okay with that.

For the most part, I don't much care what other people believe unless they attempt to use their religious beliefs to assert superiority over others or perpetuate hateful attitudes. I don't think religion is necessary to convey morals. I think most people can learn right from wrong without ever setting foot in a church. Actually, the kindest, most generous, respectable people I've known were not Christians. Some of the meanest people I've ever met were.

Lately, I keep coming into contact with people--some of whom used to be friends--who are concerned about my "salvation," who insist they have found Truth with a capital "T." They say things like Obama is the anti-Christ, that our interest in adopting internationally or living abroad is the result of temptation by Satan, that "real Christians" can't support equal rights for gays, that our refusal to accept the Bible as the final word means we're going to hell, and all sorts of other crazy things. (My favorite so far was being compared to a cat who likes to drink antifreeze. It tastes good, but it's slowly killing me.) These people who are prideful enough to think they've picked the only right way upset and annoy me, especially when they damn me and claim to be my friend in the same breath. It seems contrived and conceited, and it's especially insulting to be treated as though I'm incapable of finding my own path. And if there's any danger to be found when it comes to religion, it seems to me to come from believing so strongly in your way of doing things that you are comfortable going around judging others under the guise of "sharing the Good News." (The Good News often being that the person sharing it is going to heaven, and you are going to hell for all eternity.) If you really believe in heaven and hell and God and Jesus, shouldn't you mind your own business and leave salvation and judgment to someone with better credentials than you have? Perhaps someone who created the universe? Or focus your energy on providing homes for the homeless and food for the poor and support to the oppressed? Just a thought. At the very least, recognize that your beliefs are yours and that the best way to show others that these beliefs have worked for you is to be a kind, generous, thoughtful, good, confident, and happy person.

So I wrote this post so next time someone harasses me about my religious beliefs I can send it to them and tell them to bugger off. I spent most of my life listening to your dogma. If I've got to believe what you believe to get into heaven, consider me a lost cause. I'd rather go to hell. At least there I'll be in good company.



P.S. If you didn't click on the links, you should. They're the best part of this whole essay.

P.P.S. I'm writing this on Sunday morning. That's right. When I should be in church. But it's 60 degrees out and sunny, so I plan to go on a bike ride and worship in the church of the outdoors.

The Internets Is a Strange Country

Several times in the past few years, I've thought about giving up the blog. Some weeks I wonder why I do it. I gotta admit that it feels downright arrogant to think anyone cares what is going on in our lives. But we live pretty far away from the people we love, and I keep posting because it's the easiest way to share photographs and news with friends and family. Occasionally, I share my thoughts as well. And I always like hearing about other people's lives, so I guess I figure it's reciprocated. But it's all fairly mundane, isn't it? I don't write a lot about politics or religion or whether or not to vaccinate your kids. The most controversy I'd ever managed to stir up on this site was probably when we asked people to suggest best- and worst-possible names for the Fabertids. And I gotta say, that didn't bring much.

Anyway, if you'd asked me how many people read my blog, I would have guessed ten at most. And that's only if you let me count husbands and wives separately. As it turns out, a lot more people than I ever would have imagined read this thing. I never knew because very few people leave comments. But recently I decided to try out one of those tracker gizmos that tells you where your readers are from, and I'll be damned if there aren't more of you than I thought from more places than I ever would have guessed. So this has me curious. Who are you folks and what brings you to these parts? It is utterly amazing to me that people from all over the world stop by here. I had no idea. It makes me feel less isolated somehow. And if I had to name my favorite thing about the internet, it might be just that. That people who have never met and never would have any reason to meet "in real life" can stumble across each other in this one place we all have in common. Kind of heartwarming, really.

So welcome, stranger. Pull up a chair and help yourself to a beer. And if you are feeling brave today, leave me a note on your way out. I'd like to meet you.

On the Overactive Imagination

I have one, and apparently Wil Wheaton has one, too.

Home Study to Prove We're Not Running a Sweat Shop, Dealing Drugs, or Living in an Abandoned Building? Check!

Those of you who have been following our adoption proceedings know that this paperwork business has been a trial. We had a few more bumps in the road than other folks on account of our being expats. Not living in the US during this process causes little problems as well as bigger ones, and I was beginning to think we'd never finish. For those of you who have had to write a thesis/dissertation, it's a bit like that. We don't get PhDs in international adoption, but we probably should.

Xander showed up unexpectedly in the reading room today to tell me that we are done. Our home study was approved by our agency. Now it's off to USCIS for approval. We've already finished all of our other paperwork, so all we need now is clearance from USCIS before we can pack up our dossier and send it off. This is the part where we sit back and wait on everyone else to do their jobs. With a bit of luck, in a couple of months our dossier will be on its way, and we can do optimistic things like shop for baby clothes and strollers. Finally.

To anyone who hasn't been through this process, this little victory won't sound like much. But finishing our paperwork is the best thing that's happened to us in months. And when our dossier goes to Ethiopia, you can bet there will be a very, very large party thrown at our place. You're all invited.

Librarians Can Be Funny?

My husband is hooked on xkcd. A friend of mine just revealed that there is a comic strip for geeks like me, too!

It's Earth Day Again

Let us pray that all living beings realize they are nourished from the same source of life. --Thich Nhat Hanh

No matter what we are already doing for the Earth, we could be doing more. Now that we're all broke, it's a great time to get back to the basics of making our own food, buying less processed and packaged things, recycling old things and making them last a little longer, eating less meat, etc. We are in a great position to change the way we live and redirect the marketplace. If this recession has shown us anything, it's that the choices made by individuals do matter to the world. Let's make better ones.

This year, my two commitments are to make my own yogurt (thanks, Michele!) and can/freeze tomatoes and fruit this summer. Both things take little time, don't require special equipment, and keep me from buying a whole lot of processed food. What can you do differently this year? Here are some very simple ideas, but if you already do all of these things, free free to share some new ideas in the comments.

1. Buy bar soap, not bottled.
2. Buy used books, CDs, and DVDs or go to the library.
3. Recycle. (I can't believe there are still people not doing this!)
4. Have clothing repaired when possible (or do it yourself).
5. Rather than buying processed snacks and soda, eat nuts and fresh fruit/veg, and drink more water.
6. When you do buy processed stuff, look for things produced in your state or region.
7. Eat less meat and more fresh, local veggies.
8. Buy fewer cleaners in plastic bottles. Pick one cleaner (like Simple Green, awesome on everything, or Seventh Generation) for the whole house and/or make your own.
9. Spend your money on experiences (movies, travel, dinner) rather than stuff.
10. Take shorter showers, especially if you live in an area affected by drought. If you're in a warm climate, turn off the water while you soap up and wash your hair.

All of the ten things above you can do really easily, but if you feel overwhelmed then start with just a few. I now bake bread, make granola, and make most of the sweets and snacks we consume, but I didn't do it all at once. It's really easy once you know how, but it takes time to get going. Do what feels manageable, then add something else once you get the hang of it. I've said this before, but it has taken us years to get where we are. And it will be several more years before we are where we want to be. But we're working on it. I'm sure there will be some backsliding once we have two babies in the house, but when they are a little older, teaching them to do things like make yogurt and bread is going to be magical. I can't wait.

Vaca-Stayca: Part II

While Rob and Sarah were visiting, we went on a trek from the west side of the mountain to the east. We started at the Oratoire, hiked through Notre-dame-des-neiges, up to the cross on the top of the mountain, and then back down again. Afterwards, we went to Dieu de Ciel for more tasty Quebec beer and also stopped by St. Viateur for bagels.

Along our walk, we saw all sorts of strange things, including a sword fight and some tightrope walkers. We also saw a lot of graffiti and a very brave cat.

Vaca-Stayca: Part I

Our friends Rob and Sarah came up from New York to visit. We had a great weekend, and it really felt like we were on vacation, too. We attempted to take them to Fort Lennox, but someone (might've been me) didn't pay close attention to the opening times and did not realize the fort doesn't open until May. Soooo we took them to Chambly instead, which is just up the Richelieu River. We had a picnic, walked along the lake, visited Fort Chambly, drank tasty Quebec beer, and had a lovely afternoon. That evening, we took them to a cabane à sucre for the annual sugaring off. We ate lots and lots and lots of maple-syrupy things, including my personal favorite: sugar pie.

Chambly


a canal lock


gulls dive for fish in the Richelieu rapids


Fort Chambly




tree tapping


tire d'erable (maple taffy)



dinner, music, and dancing inside the sugar shack


caribou, a drink that supposedly evolved from early hunting traditions in Quebec, when the hunters would drink the blood of the slaughtered caribou after the hunt


sugar pie


feu de joie


Last night, I made an apple cinnamon bread pudding for dessert. It turned out pretty well, I think. There's a recipe here.

Real (Stupid) Conversations

Here's a conversation that took place a couple of weeks ago at work. For those of you who don't know, I work in the rare books division of a library. Researchers come in to request rare materials and review them in the reading room. One student requested a book that we were unable to locate.

Alana: I'm sorry. They can't find it, but they're still looking.

Student: (becoming irritable) Well, if it's not on the shelf then where can it be?

Alana: They probably burned it.

Student: Ohmigod! Really?

Alana: No.

Same Old Story, Different Meaning, Same Message

Every year at Easter, the same old story gets told. There was this dude, right, and he was kind of revolutionary. Had all these crazy ideas about laws and love and how people should live. He was a troublemaker. Got a lot of people all riled up, so the government decided to do away with him. But apparently there was some kind of prophecy, so the dude totally saw it coming. Or at least he pretended to. He somehow plotted an escape, miraculous or just really clever. Staged his own death maybe. Or maybe God did it. Who knows? But right before he goes through with it, he gets kinda panicky, like maybe it was all just a big mistake. Maybe there's still time to back out. In the end, though, he realizes the bed is made.

Anyway, my favorite part of this whole story is actually the panic bit in the garden of Gethsemane. Each year, I listen to it read on Maundy Thursday, and most of the time it revives my passion for discipline. I'm a big discipline person. I ran track for years because I liked the personal challenge. Part of the appeal of the vegetarian and local-eating lifestyle is that it requires discipline. Graduate school? Discipline. Fasting? Discipline. Lent? Discipline. Even caring for museum objects requires discipline. I thrive on it. So when Jesus is in the garden praying and comes back out and all the disciples (who despite their name lacked discipline) are asleep, I normally sympathize with Jesus for getting mad about it. I mean come on, guys! All you have to do is stay awake! It's not really that hard, is it?

But this year, I heard it all completely differently. This year, I heard a Jesus who was freaking out. A guy who had painted himself into a corner and was frustrated about it. A guy who really would have liked a different outcome. A guy who, despite what many people might like to think, was none too excited about the prospect of death. Basically, the dude was losing his shit this time around. And he took it out on his disciples.

I'm not sure what exactly lead me to hear the readings differently this year. I think perhaps living in Quebec, experiencing the frustration of not being able to communicate, dealing with the cold, and going through the adoption process has me a little more worn down than I usually am by this time. Whatever it was, I was squarely on the side of the disciples this year. Surely it wouldn't hurt for them to take a little nap, dude? You got yourself into this mess, didn't you? You could have just shut up and eaten your matzo.

The beauty to me of being part of a tradition that allows questioning, one that doesn't require us all to accept the Bible as literally THE WORD OF GOD, is that the stories and their meanings can change depending on what's going on in our lives. Maybe one year I think Jesus might have been resurrected. But the next year I think maybe he staged his own death. Most years I'm pretty sure Mary and Joseph got themselves into a bit of a pickle and needed a way out. And I think a lot of the time that Jesus did, too. Sometimes I think he sounds like a pretty nice guy, and other times I think he sounds like a pompous jerk. (Okay, a lot of the time he sounds like a pompous jerk.) But these questions, doubts some may call them, don't really matter because all of these possibilities make this religion and its book more interesting. I like the tradition and history of it, and I think that whole "love one another" commandment is pretty much all you need to know. Risen? Not risen? Who cares! The final message is still a good one.

In regards to previous posts, I've finally published a couple of recipes here. The first post is about the Passover ones, but if you scroll down you will see some Easter recipes as well. Oddly enough, when I checked several epiceries for matzo, I couldn't find any. But I did discover that the one down the street sells communion wafers. Figures.

Culinary-Cultural Confusion

horseradish! beets! a bloody mess!


homemade matzo (looks risen due to the angle, but definitely NOT)


matzo ball soup (special thanks to Deb and Bobbi)


and cupcakes. leavened. eggs. not leavened.



We had a bunch of people over for "Eastuh dinnuh,"** but we had so much fun we forgot to take any photos. Alas!

Recipes will follow eventually.


**Here's a conversation that took place between me and my husband during the first year he lived in Georgia (before we were married):

Alana: Do you want to have dinner with me on Sunday night?

Xander: I can't. A friend's grandmother invited me over for Easter dinner.

Alana: Easter dinner?

Xander: Yeah, sorry.

Alana: Um, did she invite you over for Easter dinner? Or did she invite you over for "Eastuh dinnuh?"

Xander: Oh, well, she has an accent, so I guess "Eastuh dinnuh."

Alana: Um, honey, this is Georgia. If someone invites you over for dinner on a week night, then they probably mean in the evening. But "Sund'y dinnuh" and "Eastuh dinnuh" take place in the afternoon.

Kiva

My brother gave me a gift certificate to Kiva for my birthday. I'd actually never heard of Kiva before, so I was glad for the introduction. You make small loans to entrepreneurs all over the world. (Or you loan just part of the total amount applied for--others make up the difference.) The borrowers pay back the loans over a set period of time, and eventually you get your money back. You can then use it to make another loan. I just made my first loan today to a woman in Benin who runs a small grain mill. I'll let you know how it all works out, but so far Kiva seems brilliant. Here's an article about it if you want to read more.

We are thinking of using further proceeds from Molasses to make loans via Kiva, so check out the site and let me know what you think. Also feel free to recommend others you like.

Happy Pesach, Everybody!

No, I'm not Jewish. But this guy was!

Thanks to Deb for this Paschal miracle.

Adoption on NPR

This is probably the best thing I've heard or read on adoption since we started this whole process. It's short, it's not judgmental, and it's not overly sentimental.This interview can help you understand a lot of the issues involved in our adoption, and it would probably give you some ideas about how to respond to other people who comment or ask questions. I really, really recommend it, and if you are related to us by blood or love, it would mean a lot to us if you took the time to listen.

Why Did You Opt for an International Adoption?

Talk of the Nation, April 7, 2009 · Americans adopt thousands of children from other countries every year. The process can be tricky, and would-be adoptive parents often face the question "Why not adopt an American kid?"

Guests:

Isolde Motley, co-author of You Can Adopt, and mother of one biological child and two adopted children

Susan Soon-Keum Cox, vice president of public policy and external affairs for Holt International

And for extra credit this week, you can read this, sent to us by good friend Michele.

King David Was Bipolar

Or at least really, really moody. I found this the most encouraging part about re-reading the Psalms. We were having a tough couple of weeks, particularly on the adoption front, and my friend Anna suggested I "pray the Psalms." And I thought, "How about I start off by reading them for the first time in ten years?" So I grabbed my giant annotated Bible, the kind only a religion major (me) would have lying around, poured myself a glass of wine, and climbed into a hot bath. Hey, if you can't read the Bible naked in a hot bath with a bottle of wine, when can you read it?

Anyway, the thing that really struck me on this reading was just how moody the tone is. If we go with the supposition that David wrote many of the early Psalms--he most certainly did not write all of them--we can confidently conclude the man was dealing with a minor chemical imbalance. And I find this comforting because aren't we all? He goes from, "O Lord, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me; many are saying to me, there is no help for you in God," and, "Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing," to, "O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!" and, "I will tell of all your wonderful deeds." This sounds a bit like me, actually. One minute I'm all, "Oh, my life! My problems! WHIIIIIINE!" The next minute everything is just sunshiny and wonderful. And then again I'm back to "languishing."

One of the most heart-wrenching bits is in Psalm 13, when David writes:

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God!
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death,
and my enemy will say, "I have prevailed";
my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.

Suicide? Sounds like depression to me. Or like maybe David was going through a Goth phase. Sure, he wasn't necessarily writing about personal experiences, still one can only guess that David must have had some pretty bad days in order to even be able to write like that. But hey, if David could survive it and make the canon, so can I. Maybe one day a group of folks will get together and decide to add my blog posts to the Book of Internets, and some poor soul can take refuge in the fact that I also had bad days.

Speaking of Davids, reports are coming in of the extensive damage to historic buildings, monuments, and art in Italy. Whenever there is a disaster--natural or man-made--of course I am sad for the people. I also can't help being sad for the stuff. It lost its life as well, and I think of all the future generations that won't get to see these wonderful things that have been destroyed. This makes me sad.

It's wintry mixing here today. The weather is consistently in the 30s. It's much, much better than -20, but I long for coat-free days. Just a few here and there would be nice. In the words of another depressive, April is the cruelest month.

But I am also optimistic. I bought a bike this morning, and we plan to ride everywhere once it warms up just a bit more. J'ai un vélo! Le monde m'apparetient!

Iles-de-Boucherville


We went to Iles-de-Boucherville today with our friends Britt and Robin to do some hiking. It was cold and cloudy, and we mostly had the place to ourselves. The deer easily outnumbered the people.





The river was high and moving fast. The ice has mostly melted, but there were large pieces still breaking away from the edges and making their way down the river. We saw a couple of seagulls taking a cruise down the river on an ice raft. At the tip of the main island, the ice had broken up into tiny pieces that clinked together like wind chimes. It was really lovely.


Until we saw this:


Yeah, um, that'd be a couch. In the St. Lawrence.

Matzo Balls and Easter Eggs

It's that time of year again. The one when Christianity and Judaism collide and get all tangled up with each other as we each celebrate the coming of spring in our own strange, little-bit-pagan ways. I love it. I'm a big fan of Lent already. I like the challenge. And it makes the coming of Palm Sunday and Easter all the more special. But I'm also a big fan of Passover. It's like Thanksgiving with more God and less turkey.

When we lived in New York, finding ourselves a seder was no problem. We LOVED going to Deb's and reading from the Haggadah Coloring Book and drinking our four glasses of kosher wine. Deb makes the best matzo ball soup I've ever had, even though she's all modest about it if you ask her. And horseradish has always held a special place in my heart. What I'm telling you is that I like Passover food. A lot of people complain about it because they just can't stand giving up their grain. But I love it. What with the homesickness and all, missing Passover in New York is just too much for me. So while we're skipping the Haggadah, we're still going to eat the food. We've selected a few favorites: charoset, fish (tilapia, not gefilte--yuck!) with a beet-horseradish sauce, matzo ball soup, and macaroons (another much-hated Passover food that I happen to love). No brisket for me, thanks. We'll let you know how it goes.

And yes, just a few days later we'll make a totally leavened Easter feast and decorate eggs, too. I don't see a problem with that.

CADIE!

I went poking around Google today looking for their annual April Fool's joke. I was not disappointed. Be sure to click on all the links.

XOXOXO,
Alana