Lysistrata's Daughter

a morass frustration and rage and despair imprisoned, nothing will ever be better ex opere operanda He promised to be there and He was I can see again see the beauty that's been here all along

Looking around my house, I wonder if there is another way to furnish and decorate than thrift stores, yard sales, hand me downs, gifts, and curbside finds.  Maybe, but I doubt it's as fun.  Viva Craigslist!!

This morning, as we scrambled around frantically to get ready for church, Vuk's new shoes were nowhere to be found.  His new Lightning McQueen shoes that he loves in very truth.  So instead, he had to wear his old Thomas the train shoes, which had belonged to Lev and are quite sad looking and embarrassing to me, though my standards are not particularly high.  The rubber around the toes is completely worn away, and the fabric under that is gone at the big toes, so bits of white are visible.  But I wasn't quite embarrassed enough to prefer his rain boots, so we strapped them on and went to church. Happy feast of the Meeting of the Lord in the Temple, by the way. Now, you must understand, we had ransacked the house.  Looked under every table and every couch, searched in every room, even the Padre's office, where the children are not allowed.  Even in the cupboards of the play kitchen, which hide lost items more often than one would think.  Nothing. ...

"Lev!  No being Gollum at the dinner table."

New converts are like small children:  they're better served by listening to the grown-ups rather than talking. And for the love of all things holy, for the love of all the family members and friends you want to convert to the church:  do not start a blog in which you opine about the nature of Orthodoxy, Church history or Church politics.  It will embarrass you in about four years.

You know how people like to say that the Church is a hospital?  Yeah, well.  Sometimes being a matushka feels like being the lunch lady in the psych ward.