The Pascha Ordeal or How I Scored Fifteen Thousand Million Points with my New Wife

1369Well, I’m back.  I had a weekend in Memphis where I was blown away by how much love there is in this world for me, especially back home.  I didn’t tell anyone at the old church that I was coming to Pascha, save my “dad”, Adam, so there was a Whole Lot Of Surprise on everyone’s side, and was I oh-so-glad to see everyone.

The weekend started out with my mom and her new husband coming up to get Aslan and keeping him at their place while Chris and I took off for the lands to the north. It took us over five hours to get to Southaven, mainly cause we were taking our time and stopping at Wal-marts on the highway to look for a Bossk.  He found the toy of current desire at the Magee Wal-mart and me?  I found a lot of nicely colored cotton yarn for Sophie’s Universe and was exited to start working with it in the truck. (More on this very, very soon).  We’re walking out the door, both happy with our treasures when I say, “We came, we saw, we shopped like a Bossk.”  To which The Man burst out laughing.  I say, old chap, didn’t you see that pun coming a mile off?  Haven’t you been paying attention?  Either way, don’t mess with us and our action figures:  we mean business.

Speaking of seeing things a mile off, how about this:

We’d seen this on CBS Sunday Morning (y’all know.  My freaking ring tone is CBS Sunday Morning, aka Bach aka Winston Marsalis) during a Bill Geist story about crosses.  it cost $170,000+ bucks.

We saw it coming a mile off.  What I want to know is if they already have a big cross on the front of the restaurant and they are in *Southern Mississippi* why spend all this money on an audience that has an overwhelming amount of exposure to Christianity?  My point being:  how many doublewides (used) stocked with a year or more of food (wholesale) for a 1363deserving family (which would be all of them with children) with a single mother who needed to go to college for a better life could have used this money?  This is the difference between giving a picture of a fish and, um, giving them fish.  It irritates me to no end.  Shame on me, eh?  Yeah.  Feed me sheep, bubs.  Feed.  Imperative word there:  feed. I hate to go baaaa on this one, but baaaa is kinda the point. Such a thing looks to the uninitiated–such as my husband–as personal hubris and impracticality. Jesus didn’t give away crosses afterwards.  Nope.  Gave away fishes ‘n’ loaves.

(I explained it this way to Aslan:  if you came to school with your Star Wars lunch box and Jesus fed the whole school with it.  Yeah.  Mind blown.)

ANYWAY. On to better signs.  1375

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The Don and Suzanne, aka Dr. O, the only person at the table with her own tomb (she doesn’t brag, but she spent three months “digging up broken stuff” this past season). It’s my party, and I’m bloody having useless academics there if at all possible. Don does something-or-other for Bellhaven College.
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Drew Johnson showed up–I was so happy to see the best-read person I know enjoying some well-deserved downtime. He and Chris discussed Rome. You know. History majors. More useless academics.
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Rob, Beth’s man, The Don, The Drew, The Man, The Me, and The Beth.

So we got to town, dumped off our stuff at Beth’s house and headed on up to Celtic Crossing to meet Drew, Don, Suzanne (Rich had to go cook somewhere–oh, lucky them.  He is AmAZinG). We sat around and talked and had pints for the rest of the night.  It was fabulous.  And we stole a pub glass for Chris.  That’s right:  those of you at Celtic Crossing, how much do I owe you for a Harp glass??? I have *never* stole anything in my whole life.  So there.  I took one.  And we left it at Beth’s. The Don and Suzanne, aka Dr. O, the only person at the table with her own tomb (she doesn’t brag, but she spent three months “digging up broken stuff” this past season).  Everyone told me that I looked younger and better than they had ever seen me.  I credit The Man and his love, that’s all I can say.  Any happy I have is the result of hard work and the doggedness of his feelings for me.  Bad things can happen to you in love–I know.  But look at what can happen:

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Some people you’re lucky enough not to have boundaries with. No one will know how deep I love this gal.

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‘Nuff said.

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Eventually, it was past The Don’s bedtime. Alas.

Next day, we got up, hung out with Beth for a little while (Chris went out back with his coffee to watch for birds and he wasn’t disappointed.  He did realize that each and every one were going to have the bejeezus scared out of them by a Fed Ex jet up close ‘n’ personaly.  We headed into town to Brother Juniper’s.  Now if you don’t know Brother Juniper’s, you’ve freaking missed out.  It’ an orthodox restaurant ran by a very nice couple that goes to Annunciation (the Greek church) and it serves one thing:  breakfast.  And it is tremendous.  It made the Food Network twice in one year.  No one’s surprised.  After a very long drive (to Chris!) and an even longer wait (we found out later we could have been put on a list over the phone) we got a meal that was worth waiting for.  The Man got a Southwest omlet and I got a Lamb and Garden.  Holy freaking cow–just the biscuits were worth the drive up into Midtown, much less the bloody home fries, whose glory I had forgotten!

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Of course I had to text this shot of a lamb and garden omlet to my brother-in-law. he said the biscuit looked marvelous, so…
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…death to biscuit. Death. On Pascha, don’t sweat the biscuit, man. Eat it.

Spoke with the owners a bit, to jog the memory (they know dad) and went on to Davis-Kidd, which is now “The Booksellers”, just as awesome as ever, and after a failed attempt at YoLo, we went over to Adam’s apartment where Adam showed Chris all of his artwork.  It did my heart a world of good when Adam called Chris into the bedroom and showed him some of his more current works (mano y mano) and explained their meaning.  Chris told me hands down it was the best part of the whole weekend. 137613771380

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Who thought of this? Are there Fruit Loops incorporated in the doughnut? Gummies? It’s just… so tier one, you know?

We went home for a crash and to hang out with Beth.  Beth took me to the new Kroger which was freaking mind-blowing.  It was bigger than any I had ever seen counting Virginia.  It was large as a Wal-Mart, ridiculously bright and well-stocked.  It had a sushi bar, a nut bar, an organic section, an olive bar, a salad bar, a gift section, and a quarter isle of just protein bars.  (This place must be heaven to the spandex-wearing hoardes over at the DeSoto Athletic Club across the street–pow-howdy).  After buying a replacement present for Ethan’s kids (that’s Adam’s son) because smart one here left the chocolate bunnies in the truck all day (yeah, Mensa when I was twelve, hoss). Of course they had a doughnut case, but you know, Americans tend to over do it, right?

Now my husband has told me for many a moment that he loves me, right?  Well, sometimes to the damaged soul it takes a while for such information to sink in.  Nothing will ever budget my giddy heart’s delight that weekend that he stood in a Pascha service with me for over three hours, the disorienting experience that to the un-initiated orthodoxy can be (orthodoxy can be disorienting for those who are used to it).  1387

As you can see, Solly was put out that we left.  The other cats, being cats, were pretty much non-plussed. 1388

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