Today, I peeled and roughly chopped eight onions. (It was kind of sad, all those onions with their lives cut short.) Then I helped cut 60 pounds of salmon into single portions. (I wasn’t really sad about that part, just looking forward eating it tomorrow.) Then we dredged the salmon through a marinade of olive oil, lemon juice, massive amounts of garlic, and herbs. Then we piled them high in bus tubs to await tomorrow morning and the oven.
This is how we celebrate the beginning of our salvation.
I feel a festal troparion coming on. If I weren’t listening to Josh Ritter, I’d be composing one right now, in the tone of the actual Annunciation troparion (tone four).
Today is the beginning of our salvation
And the end of the lives of these salmon…
Yeah, you so don’t want to hear the rest.
Now I’m home, and the vegan cupcakes are the oven. The music is up loud, the sky is grey, and it’s back to church in two hours. If you fell into a time warp and appeared in Lent, you would know the time of year from the fact that it’s almost always time to be going to church. Church yesterday, today and tomorrow? Check. It’s Lent. Which is not to complain, especially since I usually seem to stumble upon enough grace to get along with the eclectic company at church. In fact, I often seem to embrace socialization. It’s, um, weird.
Which is not to say that the young ladies of the church did not cut out of the soup supper last night and go get Thai food instead. Not at all. We just had a different variety of socialization in mind.
Also, why is it that when I’m in line at the grocery store (purchasing coconut oil, canned pumpkin, two apples, muffin cups, and salsa) and the clerk teases me about salsa cupcakes, I take him literally and say something inane, instead of going along with the joke?