Making an Ash of Myself

It's late this year. Very late. Usually we are all well into the routine of Lent by now and here it is, only the first day. Appropriate though, because even though The Groundhog predicted an early spring, there has been precious little evidence of that...some pale blossoming, a slender crocus here or there. But Lent actually means "spring"....or rather the lengthening of days toward spring. So now that it is here perhaps the rest will follow.

There's a contagion sweeping through the House this week and I got some of it so I've been home since yesterday. Nothing dire but I'm a big believer in hitting the fluids and naps at the onset rather than waiting until I feel like complete crap and it's too late to do anything but ride it out.

I'll make it out to church for my ashes...maybe one of the little parishes nearby that don't really do much for me liturgically but are convenient. Or maybe I'll rally and go to the Cathedral. It doesn't matter. Getting the ashes, marking the start of the journey, hearing the words "turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel"...that's the point.

Oh, I do love Lent. I've been thinking a lot about what is unbalanced in my life these days...the causes (or perceived causes, anyway...the 6 weeks of Lent ALWAYS end up revealing more than I expect). I'm grateful for this time to simplify, to be more thoughtful/prayerful about the direction of my life/the condition of my heart. Some years, I admit, I kinda phone it in. I did that last year...partly, I suppose because it turned out the real journey of last year ended up being about Suzanne's cancer diagnosis. I'm hoping for a little less drama this year...just the opportunity to be open to the Spirit, to tidy up some of the dustier cupboards of my soul and thereby uncover a new freedom (or energy or some sort of positive force like that there) to - oh, I dunno -be more present in my life and to the people with whom I share it.

Happy Lent, to those whom that applies. Happy regular ol' Wednesday in March to those who it don't.

Ashes, Ashes

Ah, Lent. Permission to slow down, unplug, eat less, pray more....I need the formality of such edicts to do what it always makes sense to do.

This year I'll be praying for 2 friends on difficult journies and hope to enter in with them, to help share the load, to - as we Catholics like to say - be Christ to them. Because sometimes people need that.

For myself, I'm going to focus on being more, uh, focused. Perhaps "attentive" is the better word. Attentive to others, to the important things, making time to do what improves and stimulates me rather than just plugging into the mindless things that divert attention from doing. And I'm giving up sweets. Because I like to think that I'm not much of a sweetie person but I am and I'm still trying to get more svelte for all my big events in May, which now include The Child's confirmation and attending the Carole King/James Taylor concert with MAB. My trip to Omaha is officially firm and a'happenin', which delights me no end. A weekend in Omaha with JP is like going to a spa. Seriously.

So there you have it. I will be making an ash of myself later in the morning and then the season will officially begin. That makes me happy.

I'd Offer Deep Insights but I Have to Sweep Up Dog Food

It occurred that an interesting project for Lent might be to keep a photo journal...a picture a day through the 40 days. I don't know that such a project will necessarily bear all sorts of insightful fruit but at the very least it will be an exercise in being mindful; it will call me to pay attention, look around, notice.

I don't anticipate posting every photo or anything but already the contrast between yesterday and today is striking:

"Ash Wednesday"

"February 26"

Funny Thing Is, I Never Worry About Gumbo

A Note of Clarification: I didn't thoroughly proof yesterday's post. So it read like I was worried about the gumbo I made for the Fisherfolk. I wasn't worried. Gumbo is easy if you get your roux dark enough, which I did thankyouverymuch. No, the thing I'm attempting to not worry about was actually number 6 on yesterday's list.

Moving On: I was very eager for the not-State-of-the-Union last night. At the last one, as the President was announced and started walking toward the front of the chamber, I had this moment wherein I realized that the odds were really good that the next time that walk was made it would be by a woman or a black man. And I wanted to see it for real.

It was awesome.

I think Nancy Pelosi peed a little.

The grandest thing of all was the President's speech. Oh sure, I expected the elegant prose and Obama delivery. But it ended up being more than I expected. Because I have never ever in all my years of watching these annual addresses never ONCE heard a President talk to me like President Obama did last night. In the end, he wasn't making a speech so much as issuing a call to action, perfectly balanced between the statement of stark realities and encouragements of tangible hope. He looked, acted and sounded real. It was so refreshing.

Also, Michelle looked beautiful.

I didn't stay to listen to the rebuttal guy (I never listen to the rebuttal guy/gal. I think it is one of the silliest exercises in all of America politics. Let the President have his say...there's plenty of time to parse the validity or not of his words later. There's just something very silly about rebutting the State (or not-State) of the Union speech and that's why I never listen to the rebuttal). I ran over to see The Neighbor real quick and she muted Rebuttal Guy while we talked. I did note that his expression never changed and the cameras - at least on PBS - had him lit so he looked green. I decided he wasn't very impressive. The Neighbor said he was one of the GOPs newest, brightest lights. I felt bad for the GOP. When he finished his speech David Brooks, of the NY Times and my favorite conservative, looked apoplectic and did his best not to just laugh like a hyena. We did listen to him and he basically said that if the Republicans honestly think they are going to win hearts and minds by remaining mired in the past then they are just not going anywhere anytime soon.

I love David Brooks.

Also, interesting that the newest bright light tapped to do the rebuttal was the governor of Louisiana rather than, oh, I dunno, the governor of Alaska. Has the GOP already seen the error of their ways on that one? One can only hope.

And Finally: Today is Ash Wednesday so I'm not going to eat any meat. Or sweets. Or much of anything. You know what is sad, though? Yesterday was my last shot at eating sweetie things for 40 days and I didn't have a sweet-tooth. Isn't that just silly?

The Neighbor and I are going to go to services at the VA, which should be interesting. Actually, the most interesting part should be just taking a break and walking away from my desk...something I don't do very often. You have to understand, the nature of my job is such that I'm running around all the time and lots of my job is totally fun stuff like hanging out talking to people over coffee or pinching baby cheeks or, I dunno, organizing stuff (which you know I love to do). So it doesn't feel remotely like an office job though I have an office and jobs to do in it. But the point is that I rarely leave the house (except to shop for the house...which is also something I love to do), even for lunch because, hello? it's full of food.

But even though I love the house and the people in it and the things I do there I do need to walk away from it a little every day...to clear my head or see something new or disturb the notion that I'm indispensable. Whichever.

"See something new"...I just gave myself an idea for a Lenten art project. (makes note to pack up camera)

Have a good day.

Numeric Memes and the First Day of Spring

I promised light and fluffy, light and fluffy you shall have. (Did any of you ever sneak into the pantry, open the marshmallow fluff (that was hardly a staple but sometimes made an appearance) and just sit and eat it out of the jar with a spoon and then smooth over the top so it didn't look like you'd stolen any? Me neither).

There are a couple of Blogtopian games that came my way recently and today seems as good a time to stop avoiding play along as any.

First, Rosie tagged me with the really hard meme, the dreaded 6 word memoir. The rules go like this:
1. Write a 6 word memoir.
2. Post it on your blog and you can add a picture or some other visual.
3. Link the meme'r (Rosie made up that word and I like it)
4. Tag 5 other blogs and let the memees know they are tagged. (Rosie isn't the only one who can make up words. Also, I'm totally breaking the rules on this one and pulling the old, "if you wanna play consider yourself tagged thing. Because it's kinda hard and I don't want anyone getting mad at me).

Have you ever known me to say anything of substance in a mere 6 words? I can't order coffee in 6 words. Wait. That's not true. My standing order is "tall drip, no room". That's only 4. Never mind.

I've been reading the memoirs of some of Rosie's other victims memees and they have emboldened me slightly in that folks seem to be going for more of a summing up of personal philosophy than a strict memoir. Which opens up the options a bit. I mean, my memoir would have to be "Born, loved, bred, blogged about it", which leaves out some good stuff.

Let's try this:

Imperfect woman with charmed life. Wine? That actually leaves out a lot of good stuff, too, but it's how I feel about my life. I haven't always made good choices and I've had my share of decidedly not-swell moments but fundamentally I consider myself the most blessed chickypoo on the planet and when I count my blessings I like to lift a glass of vin rouge so there you go.

Moving on, this one comes from Dana and was way easier:

Four Jobs I have had in my life:
Undocumented farm worker
Street vendor (hawking stuffed crepes. I lasted 2 days).
Nanny
Office Manager

Four Movies I would watch/have watched over and over:
"Say Anything"
( "I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed").

"Princess Bride"
("Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die").

"Annie Hall"
("Well. Oh well. La di dah, la di dah").

"Philadelphia Story"
("I'm going crazy. I'm standing here solidly on my own two hands and going crazy").

[The quotes aren't a part of the meme but I thought it would be fun].

Four Places I have lived:
Portland, Oregon
Hubbard, Oregon
West Linn, Oregon
Seattle, Washingon

(I don't get around much).

Four TV Shows that I watch:
"The Office"
("Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica").

"How I Met Your Mother"
("It's gonna be legen... wait for it... dary!").

"What Not to Wear"
("Shut up!")

"Battlestar Galactica" (or I will be, come April)
("So say we all").

Four Places I have visited:
London, England
Nantes, France
Chicago, Illinois (Hey, gang!)
New York, New York

Four People who email me regularly:
Buck
Brooke
Wendy
the penis enlargement/replica watch people (Seriously, I think it's getting time to change my email again).

Four Favorite Foods:
Chicken and leek pie
Macaroni and cheese
BLTs
Cheddar cheese

Four Places I would like to be right now:
Drinking absinthe in a Paris cafe.
At DNC headquaters having a little 'come to Jesus' with Howard.
On "Oprah" with The Hat.
Having coffee with Buck on the Balcony of Terror.

Four Things I am looking forward to this year:
Seeing The Child graduate.
Finishing a book.
Seeing JP again. (Not sure how or when, but it's sort of mission critical).
Meeting up with bloggy buddies in California.

Four People who should post Four Things:
Danny
Sageweb
Willym
Doralong

---

So here it is, puppies, the Vernal Equinox, the first day of Spring. It is also the first day of Purim and it's Holy Thursday, the beginning of the sacred three days for us Catholic types. I started my morning at the Seder service at school. The Child was one of the readers. It was very simple and lovely. I teared up a little; there's just nothing quite like commemorating the Last Supper with a roomful of sincere, prayerful little kids. Tonight we'll be going to the Holy Thursday service at the Cathedral, one of my favorites of the whole year.

Lent went by fast this year. To be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure I entered into the whole thing quite as deeply as I usually do. Not sure why that is but I suppose reflecting on that will give me something else to do today.

The word "lent" comes from an Old English word for spring. Goes to the whole lengthening of days thing. And it just seems perfect to me that Lent is wrapping up on the first day of spring. Which has sprung. Even though it's 40 degrees out.



(Somebody seriously needs to do some gardening before the Easter Egg hunt on Sunday).










Our Lady of the Weeds

The Passage of Time

On the Feast of the Epiphany (the day the wise men found Baby Jesus), there is this very awesome morsel in the liturgy wherein a cantor gets up and "sings" the dates of the feasts and fasts for the coming liturgical year. (The Catholic church year starts the first Sunday of Advent. There are 4 weeks of Advent and then Christmastide so we obviously know what we are doing for those first months of the cycle. But heading into Ordinary Time we get this dandy little proclaimation to let us know what else is coming up. Like a coming attractions blurb, sung on three notes). Anyway, I love this little bit and sat eagerly, all poised and excited.

Then he sang that "Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten sea-son" (I can totally hear him singing that) was on February 6. HELLO? Consider. Epiphany is January 6. So this year, having just finished Christmas, we get one month of down time and it's 6 weeks of Lent? Wow.

With Ester being a movable feast it sometimes happens that Lent is early. In fact, Lent was early the year The Child was born. She was baptised at 10 days old because Lent was a'comin' and baptisms aren't typically celebrated in Lent and we didn't want to wait until Eastertide. (No, not because we thought she would die and go to hell. We don't believe that. It was because the Cathedral was going to close for renovations and we'd be worshipping in the gym across the street and we wanted her baptism to be in the same actual physical place where we were married). So anyway, there she was, the youngest baby to be baptised in Cathedral history but you know what? Her baptism anniversary is Feb. 6. Which means that as early as Lent was that year, this year it's even earlier!

The fundamental impact of this information was that I had to quick send out evites for Carnevale and start planning a menu before the Christmas leftovers were all gone.

In other "my how time flies" news:

1) The Child will be 14 in 11 days. (High School Musical theme for the party. Of course).

b) On the weekend I will be going to the Portland area for the service of a family friend who passed last week. He'll be getting his own post later but last night I was thinking about it and trying to wrap my mind around it. "Uncle" Gibby and his wife "Auntie" Nan are some of Dame Judi and Sean's oldest friends. We met when I was a sophomore in highschool. See? Long time. Now, I don't know if it's true or just the way my mind works but the last time I saw Gib and Nan, they seemed completely unchanged to me. Of course, that's sorta how I view Sean and Judi, too. Yeah, they are getting older. I'm getting older so they must be, right? And there's a bit more grey in their hair, perhaps. But really, unchanged. Still young and vital, as far as I can tell. (They will laugh at that characterisation but serioulsy, they are both now in their 70s and you wouldn't believe it to look at them or talk to them. See, youthful).

And I don't know if my similar assessments of Gib and Nan are just because they always "were" so I still see them that way or if they too were immune from that "getting ancient" thing but the point is, I was trying to think how old Uncle Gibby was and surely he was in his 70s, which sounds so much older than how I think of him.

Anytime, I've been thinking about his memorial service, which will be held (I believe) in the church we attended when I was in high school, a place I haven't revisited since I was in college. Not a ton of good memories, what with the whole PK thing, and I never really felt a burning desire to go back to the scene of so much angst and humiliation. (And yeah, it actually WAS that bad). But this is different. It's not about me. It's about honoring personal history and supporting a dearly loved family.

But I find myself wondering if I'll recognize anyone, besides Auntie Nan, of course. I think of my peers from that time and imagine who might be in attendance. We're all older. I don't think I've changed that much. Well, actually, I have. Frankly, I'm way more attractive now than I was then, which is a perversely comforting thought. But I am older. Will I be recognized? Will I know anyone else? Or will I have to stick close to Dame Judi, who has been in much more contact with that group of people, waiting for her whispered prompts so that I don't look like a complete idiot when someone comes up to greet us? Funny thing to think about, really, given how much a part of my life those people were once upon a time.

I really should get my hair done before the weekend.

Monday Stuff

This week is going to be massively nuts. Tonight is the only night I get to spend at home. Tomorrow I'm doing some Passover babysitting for the Rabbi's grandson. Wednesday there is a meeting at school. (You know how I hate evening meetings but someone is coming from the SPD to talk about internet safety and teens and that's a pretty important topic). Thursday is Holy Thursday so we'll be at church.

To balance the equation, The Child is starting her service hours for this trimester, working 3 days a week helping with different after school activities. Which means mama doesn't have to pick her up until 4 or 4:30 most days. Love that.

Yesterday the weather really got into the whole April Fools concept. It was bright and fragrant but the sun was deceptive. It was frakking cold all day. So cold, that even though it was April, I felt completely justified in making chicken and biscuits for dinner. Winter food in springtime. It was really yummy.

Yesterday was also Palm Sunday. YAY! Lent is almost over, officially ending on the Thursday evening, when the Holy Triduum, or 3 Days, begin. This Lent has kicked my butt. I'm going to be really, really, REALLY ready for the feast of Easter.

Not that I'm complaining. Lent is supposed to kick your butt, one way or the other. There's been a lot of reflection and wrestling and plenty of realizations. The self-examined life, they say, is not worth living. But Lent is heavy on the examination part. I suppose it's not unlike studying for a really big test. You have to do it, you know it will bear fruit, sometimes you discover little nuggets of truth that escaped you during the regular classwork. But in the end, you really can't wait for it to all be over. Hopefully, some of what I learned will stay with me instead of falling out of the back of my head.

Crap. School just called. The Child is sick.

The Middle of Lent

The middle of Lent always stinks.

In the language of the Church, Lent is a time in the desert, modeling the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness before He began His earthly ministry. Catholics "go into the desert" in Lent to prepare and be purified, as He did. We simplify, fast, give up and take on things all in an effort to become better Christians and to be ready for the great mysteries of Easter.

The beginning of the journey is always rather exciting. Having considered what needs to change in my life, I embrace the notion of a 40 day retreat. I'm ready, enthusiastic. And the beginning is like any journey, anticipating what's to come with eagerness. The edge of the desert has a wild beauty and besides, I can still see "home" back over my shoulder.

But after a few weeks the desert isn't such a perky place. The vista is nothing but barren sand, the occasional rock and maybe, with luck, a scrub brush. But there is no beauty, no oasis, no cleft of rock in which to hide from the heat. It sucks. Whatever load I'm carrying suddenly seems heavier; sometimes I lose my bearings and mostly am asking, "Why am I doing this again?"

But once in the middle of the desert there is no option but to keep moving until the 40 days wind down. There begins to be vegetation. The sandstorms aren't so frequent. And there, in the distance, a glimpse of the other end of the desert. There is a cool, green place waiting. The journey is over and I'm able to celebrate the 50 days of Easter with a new kind of joy and a fair amount of relief.

At least, that is how it plays out for me.

Another thing about Lent. I always start out with my own intentions, which come out of thoughtful reflection and prayer. But just about every year there's a point where God says, "Sure, that's a pretty good idea but here's where I'm really taking you".

This year's Lent is, without question, about waiting and about how impatient I am for the "big things". When it comes to little stuff, I have no problem with waiting. Standing on line for the grocery check-out, waiting to be seated in a restaurant, even traffic tie-ups...I'm the queen of Little Waiting. I don't fight it, don't complain. I'll take out a book or my day planner, ring up someone on my cell, chat with someone or just take the time to breathe and be. I am a model of charm and poise with the little waitings of life. Big stuff, not so much.

I want it now! I want the deal to close, the test results back, the decisions made sooner rather than later. Forget this waiting for a contractor to show up to finish the kitchen. Forget about backed up labs and department directors who have the nerve to go on vacation when I'm looking for a job. Escrow? Who needs it? These are the sorts of things that it seems I've had to deal with every Lent of my Catholic life. There is always something big going on, something that won't be accomplished quickly, something that is moving forward but so incrementally as to be imperceptible. And. I. Hate. It.

This morning I had a little breakthrough. Here's a bold statement: I'll bet you I do get The Job. We all know I'm perfect for it. They'll know it soon enough. But you know what else I bet? I'll bet if I get it the offer won't come until Eastertide. Just bet you.

And then I thought of something else. All this stuff with The Cat? It's consuming a lot of time and emotional energy. How much would it stink to be dealing with this AND working at the same time? (Granted, once I am working I'll have to deal with all sorts of things while holding down a job. But there is a mercy in the fact that right now there is time to attend to this).

This isn't a major breakthrough on the subject of Big Waiting, but I may have stumbled on a piece of it: I need to develop a similar attitude and discipline toward the Big stuff as I have with the Little. Breathing into it, letting it be and not wasting all my time in the meantime with fretting. Yes, the scenery right now is a little austere but there's beauty to be found even in the barreness, if I'm willing to stop complaining long enough to look around.

---

Cat Update for Those Who Are Interested

Got the blood work back yesterday, with elevated levels that confirm funkiness in her kidney. Doc wants her on a special low-protein diet, wants us to push fluids no matter how much she's drinking and he wants to see her again on Friday. The second he said he wanted us to start the IV, I freaked. The tech showed me how to do it but eewww... I spent the day visualizing how to administer a subcutaneous IV and getting skeeved out. I told The Neighbor that at least it would give me one more important skill for The Tribe after the apocolypse. ("Why, you'll be a medical technician! she said).

But then I remembered that our friend Jennifer is studying to be a physical therapist and maybe, just maybe she'd know how to do it. "Sub cute?" she said, "That is soooo easy". Hi. I have a new personal hero. She came up last night to give Phoebs her fluids and is going to come tonight and tomorrow as well.

May she and all her descendents be blessed for ever more. Selah.

If the problem is a kidney infection, then the antibiotics and fluids will help immensely and the vet should see an appreciable difference by Friday.

Also, her thyroid is normal. And that's the bad news. She's underweight but eats all the time. It could be that she's not getting enough nutrients because her kidney is otherwise occupied. It could be. It could also be cancer. There. I said it. So basically, if her kidney doesn't respond to the diet, pills and fluids, that's pretty much the diagnosis.

I told The Child yesterday and immediately began crying. She, on the other hand, remained stalwart. "The thing is," I told her, "we need to start preparing ourselves for the worst. If it really is just an infection and she's going to be fine we can be really happy. But if we tell ourselves that's all it is and it's worse we are going to be even sadder than we are now".

So there you go. And in the meantime, we're just loving her up as much as we can.

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Father began his homily today with this little story:

A young priest is assigned to a parish in New York City. One night he finds himself walking in the rough and tumble Bowery neighborhood. Suddenly, he feels a knife against his ribs and a gruff voicing saying, "Alright, buddy. Give me all your money".

The priest reaches for his wallet and as the thief pushes him around to get at it, he sees the priest's collar. "Oh!" he exclaims, handing back the wallet, "I had no idea. Please forgive me, Father!"

"It's alright, my son," says the priest. "Here, have a cigarette".

"Oh no, Father," replies the thief. "I never smoke during Lent".

That pretty much sums it up for me. These next 6 weeks aren't supposed to be about giving stuff up just for the sake of giving stuff up. It is an invitation to change my heart, change my life.

In that spirit, this year I am going to attempt to become more mindful. This means a lot of things. I want to be more mindful of what I put into my body (as opposed to just shoving something filling but not necessarily wholesome into my face at 11am because I neglected to eat a proper breakfast). Mindful about moving (especially when I have a little Dog who just loves his walkies). Mindful of how I treat others (especially the ones under the same roof). Mindful of how I use my time (like turning off the television after watching the show I purposefully intended to watch rather than spending the next 2 hours mindlessly surfing).

This is going to be a Lent about lots and lots of little ways I could be a better person/wife/mom/friend, and not so much some big, grand sacrifice. It's going to be about paying attention, listening, looking people in the eye. It's going to be about making choices for my time that speak to the things I care about (like "Gilmore girls") but not the things I don't (the E! True Hollywood Story: Bimbette McBimbetterson). I'm going to get up from my computer when my husband comes home and give him a proper Donna Reed greeting...because he deserves it. I'm going to assume the best about The Child rather than just assuming that whatever it is she's doing is wrong and somehow designed to drive me insane.

And like that.

I think this exercise in mindfulness can only be a good thing for my growth as a human being. But there's another motivation as well.

Let's say, just for grins, that I get this job (that I'm trying not to think about because I really want it and besides, it's hard not to think about it when I am currently working on "the test"). Working would be a good thing, on many levels. But it would also mean that 8 hours of my day are no longer available for use as I wish. I want to continue blogging and working on other writing projects. I'll still have to manage the home front (although obviously everyone else is going to have to step up. The Child already gets that, telling me last night that she needs to start cooking more dinners). It is going to require being able to be pretty bloody purposeful about time.

I am well aware that people do this sort of thing all the time. I'm not breaking new ground. But it will be new for me, new for us. So I think about it. Sometimes, I worry about it, too. (Not consciously, but my dreams have certainly had an angsty-abandoning people vibe going on). And of course I'm not abandoning anyone or anything in pursuing this. But it will be a big change and big changes always bring adjustments, even if they are good. Just saying, it would be wise to have "mindfulness" down before anything happens rather than try and develop that characteristic in the midst of everything else changing.

Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go pay attention.

Ash Wednesday

I went to Mass this morning at The Child's school. It was very nice, aside from the fact that they are big on singing hymns that no one has ever heard of before. But the readings and prayers were all done by students and I am always impressed to see how well behaved and prayerful the children are in church. Not like The Child's last school, where you're as likely to be hit by a spit ball as get the sign of peace. (OK, maybe it's not quite that bad but trust me, contemplative it wasn't).

Lent has begun. " Here in my dotage I'm running out of vices to give up in Lent. My focus this year is to make more time for prayer. Which will mean getting up earlier. Which is a sacrifice. I'm a big fan of sleeping.

I was enormously fortunate to come into the Church as an adult and to be catechized by people who had solid post-Vatican II sensibilities. Because I love Lent. It is a time of penance and fasting but the disciplines are not about mortifying ourselves. The ashes are a sign of our mortality and our penance, yes. But the injunction we hear at their imposition is "Turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel". This is a simple, disciplined time where we are called to focus more intently on how to better love God and by extension, each other.

I have a big cross of ashes on my forehead this morning. That makes me happy. Some years the minister is a little tentative and the ashes look like a smudge. People who see it think I've been gardening and haven't bothered to clean up. It can be a little funny to go out in the world on Ash Wednesday, since this isn't a predominantly Catholic city. People have a tendancy to look at you oddly. You can tell they are wondering if they should mention that you have a little something just there on your forehead. Not that I go out in the world all that much on Wednesdays but after mass I had to stop by the produce stand to pick up a potatoe and a courgette for tonight's soup. It wasn't too weird.

And there are the people who know what that ashen cross is all about. One Ash Wednesday a Jewish neighbor had come by and when I opened the door she took one look at me and said, "Oh, goodness, I have to get ready for Passover!"

Last night, just as I had settled down to my fresh episode of "Gilmore girls", the Mead St. Gang and their parents showed up at the door. They were all wearing masks and costumes, blowing on recorders and banging on drums. They swept The Child out with them, tambourine in hand, to parade around the block for Fat Tuesday. They had all had pancakes for dinner, too. I dared to suggest that next year we have a pancake race and the idea was warmly accepted. I can't wait!

Here is a soup recipe adapted from Jacques Pepin, which is very delicious even if you aren't fasting today:

"Instant" Vegetable Soup

4 servings

The ingredient list is not set in stone. Use whatever vegetables you have on hand. Use the large-holed side of a box grater to prepare the vegetables. Cheese is optional.

5 cups water
1-1/2 cups shredded zucchini (about half a zucchini)
1 cup shredded peeled carrot (about 1 carrot)
1 cup shredded onion (1 medium onion)
1 cup shredded white button mushrooms (2-4 mushrooms)
1/3 cup minced scallions (about 3 scallions)
2 cups (loosely packed) coarsely chopped greens (soft things like spinach or arugula)
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons instant grits
About 4 teaspoons olive oil
1 cup shredded Swiss (Gruyère) cheese (Parmesan works, too).

Bring the water to a boil in a large saucepan.

Add all the vegetables to the boiling water along with the salt. Bring the soup back to a boil, uncovered, for 2 to 3 minutes.

Sprinkle the grits on top of the soup, reduce the heat to low, and cook gently for 2 to 3 minutes longer. (You will have about 6 cups.)

Serve hot in soup bowls, spooning about 1 teaspoon of the olive oil on each serving and topping each of the bowls with a few generous tablespoonfuls of the cheese.