Getting Ready

I am already starting to get excited about Great Lent. In the past I have failed at keeping the fast. I don't mean the food part, I mean the attentivness, repentence, and the alms-giving parts. I haven't done very good at the food part either, but I do better at that than the more important parts of the fast. Anyway, that isn't what I wanted to write here. What I wanted to write about was a new word I learned while getting ready for Great Lent: xerophagy.

Here is the the dictionary definition:
"Xerophagy\Xe*roph"a*gy\, n. [L. xerophagia, Gr. ?; ? dry + ? to eat.] Among the primitive Christians, the living on a diet of dry food in Lent and on other fasts. "

It seems that during the first three days of Holy Week our one daily meal is to be a xerophagic meal. I knew about the one meal, of course, but I had not heard of xerophagy until today. This is very exciting!!! (More info on Orthodox Fasting can be found here.)

I know it might seem weird, but the weekly fast on Wednesday and Friday is one of the things that pointed me away from Roman Catholocism and toward Holy Orthodoxy. During the couple of years I was reading the Ante-Nicene Fathers and the Early Christian Writings, and comparing my "conservative" Protestant faith with the Roman Catholic faith, I read a little book called the Didache. (It had been mentioned by my then pastor, Brian Morgan in one of the sermons he preached at Peninsula Bible Church. It was the first patristic text I ever read, other than the New Testament. Thanks, Brian.) In the Didache it mentioned that Christians were expected to fast on Wednesdays and Fridays. Protestants don't do that. Neither do Roman Catholics. When I encountered the Orthodox Church and learned about the their Wednesday and Friday fasts, man, I'm telling you, a thrill went through me like you wouldn't believe. Who would have thought that I, the libertine of libertines would fall in love with the Orthodox Church because of its asceticism? Now, if I would just live that asceticism...[sigh]. Oh, well. Practice makes perfect.

In other news, the little boy and I went to the beach today. Specifically, we went to Bonny Doon Beach.

Here is an arial photo of the beach. In this picture you can see the Pacific Coast Highway running left to right, the road that goes inland to the little hamlet of Bonny Doon (Fans of Robert Heinlein might be interested in knowing that this is the town where the famous libertarian Sci-Fi philosopher lived.), and the little river that comes out of the cliff and circles around the beach in a clockwise direction.

In the hot days of summer it kind of turns into a hang out for old naked gay men, but that isn't a problem in the winter. It is the best beach between San Francisco and Santa Cruz. There is, as I said above, a little river that comes out of a tunnel in the cliffs. And wow what cliffs. (Here is a picture taken from the top. The beach is about 70 feet straight down.) The little boy and I had to climb down a 70 foot rock face to get to the beach below. The whole time, my fearless little boy was pulling on my hand and trying to jump (JUMP!!!) to the next lower rock. Ordinarily, I would keep 3 points of contact the whole time, but in one hand I had the little boy, and in the other I had a basket with dry clothes. It was scary! I wasn't entirely sure we were going to make it down the cliff. But we did. And boy did we have fun!

We ran in the waves, walked up the winding course of the river, dug holes in the sand, climbed on the rocks. Along the cliffs at the south end of the beach, where the river joined the sea, there were thousands of mussels - big ones! I thought about harvesting them but I don't know the law about that. So we left them. But the little boy had fun playing with them. We also tried to build a dam in the little river, but the little boy didn't want to do anything that organized. He just enjoyed throwing rocks into the water. At the top of the cliffs, and even growing on the sides there were gorgeous sweet smelling wildflowers. They were white but I don't know what they were called. (FYI: I didn't take any of the pictures in the links. I don't know any of the people who did take them, but they will give you some idea of what it is like at Bonny Doon Beach. Apparantly, a lot of people besides me think this is a very good beach.)

Tomorrow is the 4th anniversary of the day I first became aware of the existence of the woman to whom I am married.

Vandalism, Lesbians, Birds and Police

My day started with the little boy doing a belly flop across my chest. Got out of bed, got dressed, did the breakfast thing. As I walked outside, I was met by Leslie, my tenant in #4 telling me that she saw someone lurking and acting suspiciously in the parking area and that the car parked next to her car had been vandalized.

I checked it out and discovered that yes it had been vandalized. Nothing was stolen, it was just wrecked. The miscreant had broken the ignition switch, scratched all the paint, broken of the mirrors, broken the locks, slashed the tires and the upholstery. It was a mess. I talked to the owner of the car, my tenant in #7. to let her know about it. She was very upset.

A few minutes later a third tenant, the one from #20 came to my office to let me know she had seen different suspicious activity that might be related to the vandalism. Then she went to get ito her car to go to work. But she came back to me very upset. She discovered that her car had been vandalized, too.

I set up a meeting with the police and all three women. That was at 8 this morning.

Then I had to deal with contractors all day to get units ready for move-in on Saturday. Ordered blinds for some units we are remodeling. Went to home depot and bought a birdbath to hang from the camphor tree. I also picked up some bird seed. The little boy goes with me on errands like this. He likes hardware stores.

We installed the birdbath and hung a second feeder full of sunflower seeds from the camphor tree. (The tree is about 45 feet high and 40 in diameter.) It was fun. I showed the little boy how to drive nails and pull them out. I also taught him how to use a screwdriver today, he's more adept with the screwdriver than I thought he would be. I caught him taking apart his mother's adirondack chair.

My tenants who are moving in on Saturday are lesbians, but they pass for straight. They are super paranoid that their bosses will find out. I had to assure them several times that all I ask employers for is date of hire, job-title, and income; that I don't give any information to employers. I was kind of surprised by their secrecy - this is California. I think they will be good tenants. But I have not had good experiences with lesbians. In my very limted experience (we tend not to run in the same crowds) they tend to be a little psycho.

Back in the mid-nineties, when I was working at SF Weekly, it came out that I was a Christian. (And all because of a pizza. But that is another story.) This one woman, a very out and political lesbian in my department couldn't stand that a Christian was working with her and started harrassing me. She would come to my desk and say the most amazing things - "So you must think I'm going to Hell." "If you think breeders are normal what do you think of me?" "How long have you hated women?" "You probably think Melissa Etheridge is a bad musician." It was nuts! Finally, our boss told her to leave me alone. She didn't. She was fired. All of my experiences with (known) lesbians have been similarly unpleasant. Let's hope my new tenants wil buck the trend.

About 5pm the little boy and I went swimming. He has been able to swim up from the bottom of the pool for a long time. As well he can swim the length of the pool. But this week he finally figured out how to swim down to the bottom. He is very proud of himself. I'm proud of him, too.

The police arrived about 8 p.m. tonight to talk with the three women, my lovely and gracious tenants, Leslie, Julie, and Angelica about what was damaged and who saw what. After that the policeman, the little boy and I walked around the property to see what I might be able to do to prevent crime. He had some suggestions but they boild down to: build a fence with automatic gates and hope for the best. I couldn't figure out how to explain police to the little boy. Finally, I just said "They are like guardian angels. They keep the bad guys away." He accepted that.

I just put the little boy to bed. He was exhausted. But I read him a book before he fell asleeep. His mother bought him a little book published by the Ukranian Catholics called "The Guardian Angel Book". It's a pretty good book. The bottom crossbars are not tilted correctly, but other than that it is a good walk through of the Divine Litrgy. I also had to explain that some churches have pews but ours doesn't. And he didn't understand why the priest in the pictures was beardless. But he likes the book and insisted on sleeping with it and an Icon of St. Herman tonight.

It is late. I am tired. Goodnight.

Alcohol units: 0
tobacco units:0
caffine units: 6
pills for neck: 2

Long Day (all in one paragraph)

Up at 7. Prayers. Coffee. In the car by 8:30. Gas Station. Long drive north along the eastern shore of San Francisco Bay. Stuck in traffic for a very long time. There are four main Freeways out of the Bay Area. We had the misfortune of being on one of them. We traveled several miles with the speedometer on ZERO mph. But we got to Jeff's house about 10:45 (planned on being there before 10) and had a great time. (Thanks for the chow, Jeff. You can make chocolate pancakes for me anytime. But have you considered putting a little dark rum in the banana caramel sauce?) After brunch on the east side of the bay we crossed the Bay Bridge. Cyndi and I had our first real argument over politics. Specifically, it was regarding the financing of the seismic upgrade of the eastern span of the Bay Bridge. She thinks the State government should pay for it. I think the counties and cities around the San Francisco Bay should pay for it, or even better, the people who actually drive on the bridge. It was a very interesting experience. When we got to S.F. we had to make a stop at the Palace Hotel to drop something off. While I was waiting outside the hotel for Cyndi to pick me up Lavay Smith almost rode over me on her bicycle. It was So COOL!!!! When Cyndi picked me up I told her about my brush with greatness and she was totally unimpressed. Turns out she and Lavay have a friend in common and have partied togeather. According to Cyndi, Lavay is kinda dull and boring!!!! Then to My Sister-in-laws house on Nob Hill for a few minutes. Cyndi had to talk to her about something. Then to the bank, then Archangel Bookstore to buy candles, then to a mediteranean (muslim-owned) resturaunt for a very good lunch of lamb kebabs and shewerma (sp?), then to Golden Gate Park so the little boy could play. It was fun watching him interact with other kids. Although, one little 5 year old snot kept calling my little boy "pip squeek" and throwing a frizbee at him really HARD! The criminal-to-be's mother naively tried teaching her little wife-beater-in-training how to throw the frisbee more softly. The little soon-to-be-gang-member needed a paddling, not gentle instruction. I intervened by walking over to where they were "playing", taking my little boy's hand and walking him away from the junior felon. At first the little boy was not happy, but in a playground with forty kids running around and playing he quickly forgot the abusive frisbee boy and found another little boy (about the same age) with whom he could play "share". They kept finding things on the ground (twigs, rocks, etc.) to give to each other. I like that game a lot more than assault-frisbee. Got the bid from the gardener. Went to the Vigil in preparation for tomorrow's commemoration of the Beheading of John the Forerunner. Then drove home. Whoops! We were almost home when we realised we had to go grocery shopping. Then we went home. What did I find at home? Two parties going on in the complex. Two very loud parties. Had to talk to tennents. I hate that. One of them quieted down. The other gave me lip and for an excuse for being loud said, "But we're watching the Raider's game." Sure, blame your loud party on a bunch of football players in a different city! 1/2 an hour later they were still being loud. police were called. I forsee an eviction. Then I had to write a bunch of thank you notes to people. Now I am writing this blog entry. In about 30 seconds I will begin putting together the gardening bids for the parish council to look at tomorrow afternoon.

Today

Woke up early. Made breakfast (baccon, sliced apples, toast w/ butter and honey, coffee) for Cyndi and the little boy. As we were getting dressed he said "Go to beach?" Cyndi said "Why not?" I said, "Okay!" So, Cyndi went to work and me and the little boy went to the beach.

Getting to the beach at Santa Cruz from San Jose means taking Hwy 17 "over the hill". It is a pretty (and dangerous) drive through a redwood forest. Today it was foggy.

When we got to the beach it was too cold to go swimming. So we just walked around and played in the sand. There were some people playing volly ball. A couple of sail boats were anchored about 100 yards out from the breakers. I made a necklace out of dried kelp for the little boy. It took a while, but I think I finally got him to understand that his necklace has nothing to do with Saint Nicholas.

When it got too cold by the water we walked up to the boardwalk. All the rides were closed, but the arcade was open. At first I wasn't going to go in. (I don't like the noise of video ardades.) But then I remembered all the fun I had playing ski ball in that very arcade when I was a boy. I wondered if they still had the old machines. They didn't. They had brand new souped up ski ball machines!!! Well, I bought the little boy two games. He won six tickets and then traded them for a smiley face ring, 4 plastic centepedes, and 1 plastic scorpion. He was very happy. Oh, but you should have heard him scream with delight as he played the game. It was soooo excellent!

After ski ball we drove out on the municipal warf. (It is really a pier but they call it a warf. I don't know why.) We looked at sea lions lounging on the rafters of the warf. (I guess they thought it was too cold to be in the water, too.) The boy really enjoyed that. Then we bought some fried calimari and french fries from the resaurant at the end of the pier. We also fed some french bread to the gulls.

We got home about 1:30 in the afternoon. We took a nap together. Then I dropped the little boy off at my mom's house on the way to school.

Cyndi quit her job today. She is tired of recruiting and is going to be working for the company I work for. They are going to pay for her to go to school and get a real estate license. She is totally stoked. This is such a great thing for us. Right now she spends 10-11 hours per day at work PLUS 2 hours commuting. With her new job, she will be on call all the time, but generally, will have a 100% flexible schedule. Oh, and she found out that she is getting a huge bonus from her current employer.

We both had very good days.

Catching up

We have arrived home after our journey across the Central Valley and into the Sierra Nevada, indeed into the beautiful valley of Yosemite.

We left Sunday after Church, and drove to the little valley town of Madera where my wife's grandfather's widow lives. (She is not my wife's grandmother but they are very close.) We went by way of the Bay Bridge and out by the tract house development of Tracy but took the turn toward the place of my birth, Modesto. In Modesto we turned south and traveled along the amazingly dangerous Route 99. (If you are an American, probably 1/3 of the fruit, nuts, and vegetables you eat has been transported along this road for at least a little while as it traveled from farm to market.) Route 99 is four lanes wide, sometmes six, and is loaded with speeding trucks hauling food to markets and fertilizer to farms. No one drives slower than 70 mph on this road. Eventually, we came to Madera. We spent the night there. The heat was amazing. It was 103 degrees (F). The little boy enjoyed playing with the dog.

On Monday morning we left Madera and drove up into the mountains. It was a beautiful drive and I kept expecting the air to grow cooler as we attained higher elevations. But even at 6,000 feet above sea level the temperature was in the 90's.

The drive down into the Yosemite Valley was amazing. I can not even begin to describe it. Waterfalls, soaring cliffs (I had trouble looking up at these because of my neck.), a flat wooded valley floor through which passed a swiftly running Merced River. We stayed in a cabin at Curry Village. We went swimming soon after we unloaded the car. After swimming we tried to take a nap but it was too hot. Then in the late afternoon or early evening we went for a little hike to see Yosemite Falls. (If you are wondering what Yosemite means, I think I heard a ranger say it is a Modoc word that translates into English as "some of them are killers". It was a reference to some Paiutes who were living among the Ahwahneeches people in the Yosemite valley.)

We got back from the falls after the main dining room was closed, and we didn't feel like pizza. So, we went to the general store and bought cheese, salami, and crackers. We ate them as we sat in the amphitheater and listened to a lecture about bears. We saw many bats. The little boy grew afraid of the dark and we went back to the cabin to read HP6, which we had been reading aloud in the car all the way to Yosemite.

The next morning we packed up, mailed off some postcards, and left, but by a different route. We traveled for miles along the Merced River. On the way home we stopped at a starbucks in the the cute little town of Chowchilla and tasted samples of their new green tea frappuccino. I thought it was hideous but the little boy liked it. But he likes anything with whipped cream. I stuck with the iced mocha with no whipped cream.

In Chowchilla we got onto Route 152 and headed out of the San Juaquin Valley and into the Diablo Range. The San Luis Reservoir seemed a little low. I was a little surprized since we had such huge rains late in the spring. Of course, it wasn't as low as it was during the drought of the early 1990's. But I guess you if the canals in the Valley are full (and they are) we can't expect the San Luis Reservoir to be totally full.

Of course, it would be sacreligious to drive over the Pacheco Pass without stopping at Casa de Fruta and loading up on fruit. So we bought lunch at the Casa de Coffee, my wife bought some chocolates at Casa de Sweets, and we even took the little boy on a ride aboard the Casa de Choo Choo.

One not very good thing happened on the way home. My wife checked messages at home and there was one from her doctor asking her to call him. She did. It seems that she might have diabetes. She spent five hours today in a lab getting tested. We do not know the results yet.

When we got home we unpacked and got right back into reading HP6. We only have about 200 more pages to go and still have not figured out who dies. I understand that the last page had the NY Times book reviewer in tears, and she had never even read books 1 through 5.

Today I have been dealing with bad plumbing and bounced checks from tenants. One bright spot was when my friend Don Vladimir called on the phone. The little boy answererd the phone and announced that it was St. Vladimir on the phone for me.

Tomorrow I have cardiac stress test at 9:30 a.m. and an MRI at 1 p.m.

I'll post photos from the trip as soon as my wife uploads them.

This Day

I was up till four this morning doing homework. Slept in till nine. (thats when the little boy jumped on me. Kind hard to stay asleep with a two year old jumping on my chest.) Morning prayers. Followed by breakfst of canadian bacon, scrambled eggs, toast with peanut butter and jam, coffee.

Had to deal with some plumbing problems. Read some books to the little boy. Did a little cleaning up around the property. The plumber says that to fix all the problems the right way will cost about $135,000. I don't think the owner will go for that.

The bow ties I ordered for the little boy and I arrived today. Unfortunately, there was an error in the little boys tie; I had to mail it back to the company. But the people there are so nice. It was all cleared up on the phone. They are fedexing the correct tie today.

Cyndi came home around noon and we went to the polls. She had forgtten to register so wasn't able to vote. I voted for the Constitution Party (In California : The American Independant Party.) for every office for which they were running a candidate. If no Constitution Party candidate was running, I voted Libertarian. If no Libertarian, I voted Republican. For non-partisan elections (I really hate non-partisan elections.) I voted for the person who was not the incumbant, and/or the person who was not currently a government employee. (I heed the advice of Lord Acton.) Voted "NO" on all issues put before the voters, except one to fund public libraries in San Jose; the people need easy access to the laws that govern them. All the others seemed to be written by murderers and thieves. Oh, I declined to use the electronic ballot, and voted on a paper ballot. Democracy: Better than civil war.

Even though Cyndi couldn't vote, she went in with me. We always go to the polls together. But she is a socialist so our votes usually cancel each other. The little boy went, too.

The little boy is taking a nap. I think I will join him.

Yesterday and Today

The little boy and I went to church yesterday. (Cyndi stayed home. She has to study for her real estate exam on Jan 5) I wanted to get there before before the liturgy started so I could go to confession while the reader was praying the Hours. But, the drive from San Jose to San Francisco is a long one and I walked in the door just at the end of Hours... And saw the Bishop of Berkely standing in front of the Altar.

Yesterday's Gospel was Matthew's geneology of Jesus. Now here is why I love Orthodoxy. When I was kid growing up Protestant it really bothered me that the geneology of Luke did not match the geneology of Matthew. When I looked this problem up in books I was told that it was a minor discrepancy and that St. Matthew edited the geneology to make memorization easier. That never sounded right to me. Yesterday, Bishop Benjamin explained the situation. I love how the church tradition, time after time, answers all the questions I had as a Protestant.

After the Liturgy Fr. David heard my confession, the little boy helped blow out the candles and lampadas in the temple, and we went down stairs to the hall for lunch.

After lunch, we walked back to the car and passed a holly bush. I explained to the little boy that that was the bush we sing about the song "The Holy and the Ivy". Then he wanted to see ivy. Oh, well. The thirst for knowledge is unending.

When we got home we took a nap and then Cyndi and I visted my Mom in the hospital. They have had to double the Oxycontin. She said surgery has been scheduled for the 23rd. But I'm not sure she knows things right now.

This morning, lots of fog. The little boy had three bowls of Kashi Golean. (It's the best breakfast cereal ever.) I'm finishing my coffee (Peet's holiday blend Yum.) and listening to the St. Vlad's Seminary Choir sing the music from the Nativity Services... "God is with us! Understand all ye nations and submit yourself, for God is with us... Them that take counsel together, them shall the LORD destroy...Him will we fear...He shall be my Sanctification... through Him I shall be saved, both I and the children God has given me...for unto us a child is born.."

Well, I have to come down from this mountain. The little boy needs a bath and I have housecleaning to do. I hope all my readers have a good day.

Wine, divorce, cinnamon

The day started out nice. Slept in till 7. Cyndi left to go get some papers signed. While she was gone I cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen. Then, I made gluvein (but just one big mugfull. It morning after all.) for me and mulled apple cider for the little boy. It was cold so we both needed something hot inside us. We sat on the porch and drank it. Breakfast for me was tuna sandwiches with dijon mustard and olive oil. The little boy had cinnamon toast. We were out of gound cinnamon (the little boy poured it down the sink last week) so I had to grate some cinnamon sticks. The little boy helped me and we had a good time doing it. I wrapped the books I bought for my older boys (the one's who don't talk to me) and readied them to mail with their Thanksgiving greeting cards. The little boy asked who they were for. "Your brothers." "Billy and Devon?" "Yep." "Where are my brothers?" "Far away." "What are they doing?" "I don't know" "My brothers coming here?" "I don't know." (Editorial: Divorce is evil. I am very happy with my life now, but a decade of misery and estrangement from my two oldest sons was a heavy price to pay for marrying against all advice received. So, let me repeat this: Divorce is evil. Avoid it by preventing it. Marry right and be humble. ) I bought them W.E.B. Griffin books. For my oldest son, 16, I bought this book. For my middle son, 15, I bought this book. Each is the first book in a series. I read both series when I was between 17 and 19. I think they'll enjoy them. I hope they do. Well, gotta sign off now. Festal Vigil for the Entrance of the Theotokos is tonight.

Weekend Update

We got a new table and four chairs yesterday. Two things happened that caused us to make this purchase: Cyndi had to set up an office in our house and we are hosting Thanksgiving dinner. Our old table, an aluminum topped plywood table from Ikea is now covered with office stff. Our new table, heavy oak, sturdy construction looks very nice in our kitchen. We found it on Craigs List. So we drove to Saratoga and took a look at the table.

The seller wanted $250 for it. I was shocked. I had looked at new tables and anything comparable, with six well made chairs would have been $800 - $1,000. But Cyndi thought the $250 was too much and insisted that we pay less. The seller and I settled on $225. I love the free market system.

Well, once the deal was struck we went to U-Haul to rent a truck. The price was $19.95 plus milage. I talked them down to $9.95 plus milage. (Ha! I love this country!) Then we drove to the sellers house got the table and brought it home. Getting that table up the stairs was not easy. It did not help any that the little boy jumped in between Cyndi and I just as we were beginning the ascent. As we reached the top of the stairs, Cydi began to lose her grip, or suffered a loss of confidence or something, and I wound up bent over with a very heavy table balanced on my upper back and shoulders. The little boy was frightened. There was much yelling. "Is he okay? Grab the table! Don't let it fall on you! Hold it! Hold it!" But everthing was oaky. When it fell it was caught by the railing and did not hurt the little boy.

By the time all was done we didn't have time to go to San Francisco for Vigil. So I went to St. Stephen's in Campbell for Great Vespers. There was a priest available to hear my confession. It was good.

The little boy has a cough. Ever since he had the flu a few weeks agoo he has been going back and forth between good healthy days and days with coughing and runny nose. I guess he got weaked by the flu and now every little bug takes advantage of him. Anyway, his cough was too bad to take him to church this morning. Cyndi stayed home with him and I went alone.

I don't know why, but I was very sleepy. I nodded off during the Gospel reading. Almost fell over. I didn't really wake up until the Creed. There is a new family at church. The husband and the son were baptised a couple of months ago. The wife is slowly being assimilated (resistence is futle.) ; she lit a candle in front of an Icon today but I don't think she is ready to be baptised. Anyway, the father had not ben there in a couple of weeks and I noticed that he and his sone were not going to Communion. I figured that he hadn't prepared and offered to take his baby up to the chalice. Wow! I had never seen two people so moved by the smallest thing. Both of the parents were so thankful that I was a little bit embarrassed. Just goes to show you that our actions often mean much more to others than they mean to us.

When I got up to the chalice with the baby the priest and the subdeacons seemed a little bit confused. I was up there with someone elses baby. The look on their faces was funny.

We have a new altar boy. He looks to be about 7. He's really cute. The stricherion is so long on him that he has to hold it up with one hand as he walks. After communion he was standing in front of the ambo while Father was reading some announcements. He sneezed on to his gold broccade sleeve. And them looked at the sleeve with a look of horror on his face. It was very funny.

Nativity fast is starting. Very happy. I've just about killed my arteries eating up all the meat and dairy these past few days. I probably have more animal fat in my blood right now than W.C. Fields had booze in his.

Well, I have math homework waiting for me. I need to get to it.

Feast of the Holy Prophet Samuel

Troparion to the Holy Prophet Samuel

Thou didst blossom as a scion of righteousness from a barren womb, O great prophet Samuel. Thou dist reveal beforehand the blessings we should receive; from childhood thou didst serve the Lord in priestly office; as a prophet thou annointedst kings. Ever reember those who acclaim thee.



Today is the little boy's name day. He spent last night with his uncle and aunt in San Francisco, and this morning, very early went to the farmers market at the ferry building. Then he came back down here and we had a party.

The big Icon of the Holy Prophet Samuel was framed with flowers (purple agapanthus, red and white oleander, pink hibscus, red geraniums.) and moved from the little boy's room to the dining room. The menu was fish tacos with lots of different kinds of salsas, champagne, iced tea, chips, italian sodas. We sang the troparion,. We sang "God grant you many years". We ate. We told stories. It was a good time.

Who came to the party? Jeff who recently earned a M.A.T. from Fuller, (and with whom I used to have a joint blog.) and his son (age 2), the previously mentioned aunt and uncle who is a lawyer(J.D. from Wisconsin.), a certain man from my parish who while being a lawyer, also has a Th.D. from Chicago, and his daughter. It was a fun group. The conversation was mostly law and theology. I love being around people who know more than me. It is so invigorating.

Godmother wasn't able to come to the party but gave the little boy a collection of 8 little cars. We've been playing with them all night.

Godfather wasn't able to be here either but he sent two Icons to the little boy. One is of the Theotokos holding Jesus. The other is the the Call of Samuel. They are beautiful.

Alcohol units: 3.5
Caffine units: 2
Tobacco units: 0
Pills for neck: 2

Story telling and the ecclesiology of a three year old.

I've mentioned here that I am telling my little boy THE STORY. So far we have covered from Creation through the call of Abram. (FYI: I might be off in left field here but does it looks to me that Shem didn't die until after Abram was born. I might be wrong on the math, but check it out.) The little boy doesn't call this the "sad story" any more. Now he calls it "the long story." And it does take a long time to tell it with any detail.

So, in order to speed up the bedtime routine I've been telling little stories from the life of Jesus. The first was the man lowered through the hole in the ceiling. But he has also heard about Jesus telling his disciples to "lower the net on the other side", feeding the 5,000, healing the centurian's servant, turing water into wine, healing the 10 leapers and only 5 saying "thanks", the Annuncation and Nativity. I think that is all. Like the "Long Story" I don't give all the details at first. But by the third or fourth time I tell the story I'm including most or all of the details.

Yesterday, after telling him the story about the man with palsy who was saved by his friends when they lowered him through the roof to be healed by Jesus. (Luke 5:17-28), the little boy said "Tell me about Jesus nailed on the cross." (Most nights he kisses the Icons in his Icon Corner. One of them is Jesus nailed to the cross.) So I told him.

I started on Friday, just after the betrayal. We went through the beatings, the beard pulling, the trials(I kind of merged the trials all together into one event and didn't say anything about priests. I didn't want him to get confused and think that the priests he sees at Holy Trinity are teh people who tried Jesus.), the crown of thorns, the carrying of the cross...

"What is golgatha?"

"It means the place of the skull. It is where Jesus was killed."...

I told him about the crucifixion...

"Real nails? In his hands?"

"Yes"

About the darkness and the earthquake...

"Why?"

"the sun was so sad it did not make light. The earth was crying so hard that the ground shook under peoples' feet."

"oh."

I told him about the thieves. He got very excited when I told him that Paradise where the thief went with Jesus is like the Garden in the 'Long Story'. I told him about the presence of the Theotokos, and St. John, and the other women at the foot of the Cross. I told him about the angels standing by to rescue him at his command but how he stayed on the cross for us.

I told him about Saints Joseph and Nicodemas asking for Jesus' body, about breaking the legs of the theives, about stabbing Jesus with a spear ("What's a spear?" "Its a long stick with a knife on one end" "oh.") to see if he was really dead. I told him about the blood and water coming out of his side. (He was fascinated by this and wanted to know more. I told him that it is like at church when wine and water are both put in the chalice. He accepted that answer and I was able to finish the story.) I told him about putting Jesus in a new tomb.

By this time I was nearly sobbing, and his eyes were as wide as saucers as he said, in a voice of utter amazement, the most beatiful thing, "Jesus trampled death by death".

And I went on to tell about the myrrh-bearing women, and the angel at the tomb, and St. Peter running to the to see if it was really true, and about the empty tomb. And then I said, "And that is the end. Jesus has come back to life."

And then the little boy said. "Tell me the rest, Daddy."

And I thought for a second. And said, "you're right. There is more. A few days after he came back to life Jesus breathed on his disciples, St. Peter, and St. John, and gave them power to make more bishops by laying hands on people, and the power to forgive sins, and the power to tell others about Jesus. He created the Church."

"Our Church?"

"Yes, our Church."

"Our Church by putting hands on people?"

"Yes, St. Peter, and St. John, and the others went all over the world making people part of the Church."

"Our Church?"

"Yes, our Church. It's the same Church that Jesus made. It is really his church."

"By hands?"

"Yes. Bishops make new bishops by putting their hands on them. They make priests and deacons, too. "

"Did Jesus made Bishop Tikhon?"

"Bishop Tikhon wsa made by another bishop."

"But its our church?"

"Yes."

"Is it Jesus Church?"

"Yes, and you andI are part of it. We are part of Jesus' Church."

"The church with the hands?"

"Yep, all the way from Jesus to Ss. John, Thaddeus, Matthew, Peter, and the others, all the way to Bishop Tikhon, father Victor, and you.

"That's good."


Alcohol units: 0
Tobacco units: 0 (I think there is a trend here)
Caffine units: 1
Pills for the neck: 12
Tenant issues: 4
Contractor issues: 1

Busy day

Athanasia had to work in Scotts Valley today. The little boy and I went with her. We photocopied our hands in her office and then used hi-liter pens to color the pictures. After that the little boy and I went to Covered Bridge park in Felton for a long time. While we were there I witness two Mormon missionaries try to make some headway with an evangelical protestant. Wow! He had them so tied up they had no idea what to say. Just a little walk up a dirt road from the park was a boarding stable. We walked by all the stalls and looked at all of the horses. Then we watched some of them being exercized in the big corral. The little boy enjoyed it. Then we went to New Leaf market. It is one of my fave stores. Its like Whole foods but smaller funkier and crunchier. We almost stopped at the Abbot's thrift store, but, you know what? I have enough stuff already. So we didn't do that. Instead we drove up a one lane dead end twisty road up a mountain. Being that we were in a pacific temperate rain forst it was a beautiful drive. Until I had to drive back out and met a mail truck. That took a while. Got stuck in mud, burned some rubber. ground some gears. About three we picked up Athanasia and got some pizza then came home.

I'm staying home with the little boy while my wife goes to Vigil in San Francisco. As soon as he is asleep (in about an hour) I'll start in on the homework.

Oh, Concilliar Press has a new blog.

Valleys

I live in San Jose. Recently, the city government, or the Convention and Visitor's Bureau, or the Chamber of Commerce, or some official or quasi-official body has begun calling what the Spaniards and mexicans called "El Pueblo de San Jose" the Capital of Silicon Valley.

Hmmmm. It is certainly the seat of the county government. And Silicon Valley is certainly important to the County, indeed Silicon Valley, or more properly Santa Clara Valley is the financial engine, not just of Santa Clara County but of all of Northern California. But calling San Jose the capital of Silicon Valley seems pretentious, at least to me. When downtown San Jose was a dirty slum and nobody in their right mind went unarmed into the east side of the city, the computer industry was buzzing and chirping away in the cities to the northwest of San Jose. Palo Alto is where HP was started in a garage. I think it was Mountain View or Palo Alto where Shockly invented the the electronic semi-conducting transistor. PARC was in Palo Alto. And the first sketch of a hard drive was made on a napkin at the Waggon Wheel Resaurant in Mountain View. (I shouldn't leave out the Sunnyvale. The fruit cocktail was invented in the Libby's plant that no longer exists. There are no more fruit packing plants in Santa Clara County.) Now many of the big technology companies have their world headquarters in San Jose. Adobe is even downtown (it isn't a slum anymore.) and has built a nice children's playground next to one of their buildings. (My little boy likes it.)

Today we drove from San Jose, in the Santa Clara Valley to the San Juaqin Valley. I think the only way to get there is to go through the Diablo Mountains via the Pacheco Pass. The Pass was originally cut by the Ausaymus Indians. Their path went from the ocean to the San Juaquin Valley. Later it became a conveinent route for Roman Catholic missionaries and Spanish soldiers. California Highway 152 follows the route now. The San Juaquin Valley has another name: The Central Valley. If you look at California from outer space the Central Valley is the thing that you will notice.

When I was a little boy and lived in Silicon Valley the air was so dirty and smoggy that many days I could not see the mountains around the valley. (Ironically, I lived in Mountain View!) Today the air is much cleaner and I can always see the mountains. To the west they are covered with the gorgeious green of redwood trees because of the wet ocean air. To the east they are golden brown, with little green patches in the draws where oak trees have found a little rivulets to slake their thirst. In the Central Valley, the air has gone the other direction.

When I would visit my Uncle Fred as a boy I could always see the Diablo Range to the west and the snow-capped Sierra Nevada range to the east. But the air has grown brown there. Today I was less than 20 miles from the Sierras and I couldn't see them. It was shameful. But it seems like every little town in that valley wants to be like Los Angeles or San Jose: Sprawled all over the place with cookie-cutter sinlge-family "homes" (realtors never call them houses) where fruit trees used to stand. And where there is sprawl there are roads. And where there are roads there are cars. And cars make smog. It is shameful. I'm not opposed to growth. I'm just opposed to suburban growth. I know I've said it before but here I go again: Cities are good. Rural areas are good. Suburbs are bad. It is such a waste. If I weren't a free-market capitalist I'd make it a crime to cut down a healthy fruit tree.

Well, I'll get down off of my soapboax now. I'll tell you what I saw while driving. Thousands of acres in almonds and grapes. Scores if not hundreds of acres in cotton. Also corn. And much alfalafa. We saw dairy cattle and beef cattle. We saw a goat dairy, too. While driving through the little town of Firebaugh we saw a quinceanera taking place at the VFW hall. Or it might have been a wedding. It is hard to know since the girls whear white at both a wedding and a quinceanera. Either way, it looked like people were having fun, and the girls were beautiful as only 15 year old girls are- they think they know what life is about, but they don't really. I love the central valley. I was born there. My wife was born there. I hate what is happening to it.

The place we were going was a big house surrounded by about 15 square miles of vinyards. The house was on a little rise, with many tall trees. It was right on the widest part of the San Juaquin River and there was an observation deck on the second floor that overlooked the river. The occasion was my wife's cousin's graduation from university. Being Californians, we had grilled tri-tip to eat. It was a very pleasant afternoon. I read the current issue of the New Yorker to my wife and little boy on the drive there. He slept on the way back. It was a good day.

Claudia's Tombstone

Math (both stats and trig) last night was hard. After class I had trig homework and was up till 1 am. This moring at six we all got up and went to Oakland for my wife's real estate exam. (She doesn't hink she passed.) While she was taking the test, the little boy and I ate at Mama's on the corner of Broadway and 41st. (For my readers in sunny Mexico, there is Mama's in Cabo San Lucas now, so don't be envious anymore of your amigos nortenos.) Yum! Then we had some time to kill. I don't really know Oakland so we just drove around. The area around Lake Merrit is pretty. Eventually, we wound up in the Piedmont District. I wrote about the Piedmont back in the summer so I won't go into it again. But the thing that is neat is that I ran across the cemetary. (I had forgottent that it is just at the end of Piedmont Ave.) Well, since I had some time I thought I would stop by and pray for my my co-parishoner, Claudia (Mmmm. I wonder if it is okay to talk about reposed Orthodox in the past tense.) and ask her to pray for Fr. Victor, too. We eventually found the stone, the little boy and I. As I was praying he wandered off. When I was through I saw him about 50 yards away kneeling at a little Christmas tree. The little Christmas tree was left on the fresh grave of a seven year old boy named Arthur. There was no tombstone, just the christmas tree, a piece of cardboard with the dates and name, and a picture (taped to a rock) of a little boy in a wheel chair. I prayed for Arthur and his family, too.

Is a war of extermination too much to ask for?

I put my little boy to sleep a little while ago. About 30 seconds ago I saw these pictures. This little boy with the wound in his leg, and his back missing is about the size of my little boy........ until now, a photograph has never made me cry. What do we do about this? My whole life I have been hearing about Muslim ter....

I started this post as a call to iradicate Islam. But I just realized that this dead little Indonesian boy was probably Muslim.

O God, save us. Holy Martyr Yanis, pray to God for us.

Yesterday and King Michael of Romania

Yesterday morning the little boy and I took breakfast to my Dad. That evening was my Dad's birthday party. Athanasia and I took him out for Chinese food, and then to the convalescent hospital (The sign out front says it is a "Rehabilitation Center" but it looks like a convalescent hospital. ) dining where my brothers and sisters and some of my parents friends celebrated Dad's 78th birthday.

After the party I drove my dad back to his house. Then Athanasia, the little by and I drove to Palo Alto where we walked up one side of Fulton Street and down the other. We were there late at night, about 11 pm, so there was no car traffic. It was just we three walking down a beautiful street in the middle of the night. As much as the little boy admired all of the lights and decorations, I admired the little 1930's tudor revival houses. I just don't understand why builders don't build more houses like that.

When we got home we did evening prayers and got the little boy to bed, Athanasia began to knit for a little while, and I read to her.

Also, and I don't know how I missed this, King Michal of Romania (the last living annointed Orthodox monarch) received the Patriarchal Cross from Patriarch Teoctist in October. Some say that when he dies the anti-christ will appear. I have no idea, but I tend to dismiss all theories about the appearance of the anti-christ.

And, finally, today is the day of St. Herman. Father Herman, your American flock flees to you for protection. Intercede with Christ our King for your land and its people, peace for the world and salvation for our souls!

Sickness

Up before dawn today. The little boy(oh, he told me yesterday that he in not a little boy anymore. He says he is a big boy.) has been sick for two days. vomitiing and runs. He is better now. But now I am sick. Oh, man. What a bad time for me to be sick. I think I got an A on my chemistry test last night. I have great difficulty with the instructor. Often he is not clear or consistent in his use of nomenclature. For instance, it is only last night that I figured out that when he says "common isotope", "nuclear mass", "atomic mass", "mass number" that he is always refering to the number of protons and neutrons in any given atom. His usage of these words is not consistent with the periodic table or the textbook. It has been very frustrating. Nevertheless, I think I got an A on the test. Well, I am sick and need to lay down. Oh, I can't I have the little boy to take care of.

Last Bacon

Today has been a very good day so far. Woke up just a few minutes before 8. Athanasia was heading out the door. I don't know what time she woke up. Must have been early.

I was up late last night reading Bros. Karamozov. I think a person has to know about 17th & 18th century French philosophy, the Orthodox Church, the Bible, and pre-communist Russian history to really understand this book. I am sure that I am missing half of what is being said. Nevertheless, I've been in tears twice with this book(once for pity on one of the characters, once because I saw myself in another character and didn't like what I saw), and I'm only on page 77.

The little boy and I cleaned up the lampada. It hadn't been cleaned since Christmas of 2003. It was looking kind of scuzzy. Then we did morning prayers.
Then we ate the last of the bacon. It will be the last bacon until Pascha.

Tomorrow is the Sunday of the Last Judgement, the last day for eating meat until the priest blesses the "fleshmeats" on Pascha so, technically, we could have bacon for breakfast tomorrow, except, we are going to Communion (if we can make it to Confession tonight.) so there won't be any breakfast tomorrow. With the bacon we had eggs, yogurt, almonds, a clementine, and coffee. I gave a hadfull of almonds to the squirrel when he came inside.

The little boy was curious when I made the sign of the cross over the squirrel and told him to enjoy his breakfast and stay outside. (The squirrel likes to come in to the house). "Why did you do that?"
"We bless the squirrel because it is God's creation."
"You gave it peace"
"Yep, and told it to stay outside."
"You love the squirrel?"
"Yes, but not as much as I love you."
Laughs.

Now the little boy is out looking for snails and worms after last night's rain. I'm about to start in on a mountain of homework.

Today is the 4th anniversary of the day I met my wife face-to-face. (Well, sort of. We think we knew each other 6 weeks before we married. But we also think we met on March 5th. It doesn't quite add up.) I had tried to meet her before, but she said the place I wanted to meet was too far away from where she lived. (For the record, she was about 40 miles closer to the proposed meeting site than I was.) So our meeting was delayed about a week. As soon as she walked into the little coffee house by the beach I was in love. In the few years since we met there, the little cafe has gentrefied but it is still a nice place.

Commissioning

My friend Jeff was "commissioned" at his church today. (The best I can tell, commissioning is the low-calorie version of ordination.) We left our house at nine-thirty to get there by eleven. I had looked up the church the night before so I would know how to get there. So we got there. And we got there half an hour early. So Athanasia and I and the little boy and I kicked around a soccer ball for a little while in the parking lot. But we saw a lot of people going in and we heard singing so we figured it was starting.

As we were walking in we saw a sign that said the service starts at 10:30. "Hmmmm", I thought to myself, "Jeff said the service started at 11. That's strange." So all three of us walked down the center aisle to the front pew (Protestant churches have benches called pews, the one in the front is usually the last to fill up.) and sat down.

The guy behind us leaned forward and asked it the little boy would like to go to sunday school. We thanked him but said no thanks. Then I asked, "is this Bay Hills Evangelical Free Church?" That was met by an odd look on the man's face. "No, this is Bay Hills Community Church". Athanasia asked, "Is Jeff Miller being ordained today?" "No, I don't think so"
I looked at my wife and said, "Uh oh! We're in the wrong church!"

So we stood up and walked right up the center aisle, past 3oo people, and out the door. Wow! That was embarrassing.

Now before I write anything else, I want to make a couple of comments on the service we were in, even though it was for less than 5 minutes.
1) Pastors, please, please, please, don't wear Hawaiian shirts on the platform. It does not make you look cool, hip, real, relaxed, or with-it. It makes you look like someone who read a book about church growth. So, please be a grown up and wear a tie. Or follow your spiritual ancestor, Martin Luther's example and wear an academic robe. But please, knock off the Hawaiian shirts. If you are not sipping a pina colada and wearing sandles you should not be wearing a Hawaiian shirt.
2) 3 guitars is 2 guitars too many.
3) The band and the back up singers should not be so loud that the congregation's voice can not be heard.
4) Please, kill the PowerPoint projector. I know this will be hard for you; all the cool Protestant churches use PowerPoint now. But trust me, it's hokey. A church service is not supposed to be like a shareholders meeting or like a briefing for an Army general. The church has survived a few thousand years without PowerPoint. I'm pretty sure the Levites weren't using to project Psalms on the Temple wall. And I know for a fact that when Jesus preached he didn't use it. All he did was talk to people and tell them stories about grain, and sheep, and stuff like that. You should do that too. More talking, less PowerPointing.
5) The woman drummer was cool, though. Don't see enough chicks banging the hi-hats.

Now back to the story.

We jumped in the car, grabbed a cell phone, called 411 and got the address of the correct BayHills church. Zoomed up the freeway, woops! all of a sudden the freeway (I-880 north) dissapeard. It forked into I-80 and I-580. At the last possible moment, not really knowing which was the right one to take, I took the wrong one and very quickly found my self driving in the absolutely wrong direction. In fact, we were driving across the Bay Bridge. ARRRRGGGHHHHH!!!!!

After a quick turn around on Yerba Buena Island, we zoomed back to the East Bay, sped onto I-580 and drove north to Hercules. We got lost on Appian Way (The numbers reverse their order. I hate it when that happens.) but we eventually made it to the right BayHills church.

We heard the last 10 minutes of a sermon about money. Or maybe it was about investing. Yeah, that was it. It was about how to have financial security. Hmmmmm. I'm sitting there thinking, "yeah, on the terrible Day of the LORD, I want to make sure to tell Jesus all about how I got a 12 % annual return on my savings. That will really impress him. Surely, he didn't really mean it when he said the worm and rust would eat up my stock certificates. And that James, such a radical, I know he must have been wrong." Now to be fair, I did only hear the last 10 minutes of the sermon, and the preacher was right when he talked about debt and how it keeps a person from doing with their money what God wants them to do with it. Nevertheless, when I think of great saints who lived in poverty, such as St. Xenia, St. Paul, St. Anthony, St. Mary of Egypt, and even our God, Jesus himself who said "foxes have holes, birds have nests, but the Son of Man doesn't have a place to put his head" - whenthink of them I have trouble getting excited about a sermon that seems to be more about the blessings of compound interest than about feeding the hungry. But again, I don't want to sound too harsh. The pastor was right about not wasting money and about not going into debt. After all, if you are wasting money or paying off debt, you can't do the good things with your money that God wants you to do with it.

Oh, the commissioning itself was pretty standard. The pastor called Jeff up to the front, he explained the Biblical authority for laying hands on Jeff, then he and several other people laid hands on Jeff and prayed for him. (They have three services each Sunday so they actually did this three times.)

An interesting personal story: It was seeing deacons ordained at PBCC that really drove home to me that I was no longer a Protestant. I had just finished reading the works of the second century bishop St. Iraneus of Lyons (in present day France). And as I was watcing the ordination I remembered something St. Iranaeus said about some heretics of his day: "Who laid hands on them?" (okay, yes, that is a very rough translation.) And then I thought, "I wonder who laid hands on these guys ordaining the deacons?"

One cool thing happened today. As we were doing all of this driving, the little boy was sitting in the back seat reading the new book his mother bought him. And just as I said to my wife (We were on the Bay bridge at the time), "God is doing this to us because he does not want us visiting any heretic churches!! "(I was near to angry.) I heard my little boy singing the Trisagion Hymn. It made me very happy. I'd like to say that was enough church for me, but for the Orthodox, as long as there is the possibility of more there is never enough. To quote Bishop Benjamin of Berkeley, "If one 'Lord, have mercy' is good, why not three? I three why not 12. If 12 why not 40? If 40, why not 144... FOUR TIMES!!!" I guess what I am saying, is that yes, I'm happy for my friend Jeff. He has worked hard for this. But I wish I had been at Holy Trinity today. But even that would not have satisfied. Someday, in Heaven, it will all be all Liturgy all the time. But instead of men carrying the incense to the altar there will be angels doing that job. Instead of Bishop Tikhon (Many Years!) presiding over the liturgy, Christ our High Priest and the Lamb will be presiding. Instead of mystery there will be revelation. All the doors will be open. We will see face to face. Every day, every second will be Pascha.

Wow! What a day!

Woke up at 7. Grabbed some bagels and coffee. (Note: I really hate it that the peanut butter most often used at bagle shops is Skippy. There are plenty of good peanut butters on the market. Adams and Maranatha come to mind. Unlike Skippy, shey have no hydrogenated oils. In fact, they are nothing but pure peanuts. ) Dropped Athanasia off at her office in Scott's Valley. (Today was her last day filling in there. The new manager starts tomorrow) From there the little boy and I drove through Felton and Santa Cruz and up the coast to Pigeon Point Lighthouse and looked at wild flowers. I know that there are people who disagree with me but California has the prettiest official flower of all of the 50 States. We just walked among the flowers watching the big black bumble bees and the tiny green humming birds fly from blossom to blossom.

From there the little boy and I drove south on the coast to Waddell Beach. The creek that empties into the ocean there was swollen from the recent rains. It was a good opportunity to teach the boy about salty nd fresh water. First I had him taste the ocean. Then we walked 50 feet up streem and tasted the creek. He thought it was neat and wanted to do it again. There were only 5 surfers, 2 runners, and a couple with a boy a liitle older than my Anselm. It was really strange. That beach is usually packed with people.

From there we drove to the little town of Bonny Doon and did some wine tasting at the Bonny Doon Winery. Just me. Not the boy. (Wooo Hoooo!!! This is our third of 4 in a row wine days! I love Annunciation!) They make the best Muscat I've ever tasted.

Then we drove the backroads from Bonny Doon to Scotts Valley and pick up my sweetie about 1:30 pm. Well, by that time we were all hungy so we zipped back down to Santa Cruz and went to our fave Greek place. No, not Prophet Elias Church. Though my brothers and sister there have a killer annual festival, I'm talking about Vasili's Taverna. The best - I mean the BEST dolmathes in California! I couldn't have any today because it its Great Lent, but they also have amazingly faubulous souvlaki - Opa! - which my "I'm pregnant and the priest says I get to eat anything I want to eat during Lent" wife enjoyed.

Since we were in San Francisco for services on Thursday and Friday for the Annunciation services we decided not to drive all the way up there again tonight. Instead we went to the Vigil for the Sunday of St. Gregory Palamas at the Church of St. Nicholas in Saratoga. (If you haven't heard Archpriest Basil's voice you have missed out on one the best liturgical singers in the OCA. In my opinion he is every bit as good as Father Paul Lazor of St. Vlad's.) Also, it was good to see my old friend John from San Francisco who now is the choir director in Saratoga.