Archive for August, 2005


Although I’m not sure it will show up publicly, I have just deleted 8 comments from my last post — all spam. Can’t help wishing these people would get a life. Now we all have to deal with Word Verification, meaning, if you want to post a comment, you have to type in a squirrelly-looking word that says you are a real live human being, not a half-life whose only purpose is to sell penis enlargement to women, or something equally dim-witted.

That said, I feel I must comment on something rather unpleasant that has occurred on the OrthWomen’s list. I’m referring, of course, to the current flap over feminism. I won’t go into the history of the flap, since I think you are all on OrthWomen anyway, but what was interesting to me was the reaction not only on the list, but among the moderators. This topic caused passions, misunderstandings, recriminations, sleeplessness — and one moderator resigned from that position, though still a member of the list. (Me.) To me, that says everything that needs to be said on the subject of feminism. It always was a hot button, it remains a hot button, as far as I can see it’s entire raison d’etre is to push buttons — this is not any kind of appropriate topic for Orthodox discussion.

And I am still mightily annoyed with the original OrthWomen’s member who felt compelled to push this agenda onto the list. Go feel Empowered someplace else, willya?

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A word of explanation: My husband works for the federal government. Although he is not the author of this piece, it would be fair to say that it resonates with us.

A NEW DISCOVERY: A Breakthrough In Government

A major research institution has recently announced the discovery of the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element has been named “Governmentium”.

Governmentium has one neutron, 12 assistant neutrons, 75 deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312 particles. These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton like particles called peons.

Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected because it will always impede every action with which it comes into contact. A minute amount of Governmentium causes a reaction to take four days to complete, when it would normally take less than a second.

Governmentium has a normal half-life of 4 years. It does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places. In fact, Governmentium’s Mass will actually increase over time since each reorganization will cause morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes.

This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as “Critical Morass.”

When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium — an element which radiates just as much energy as Governmentium since it has half as many “peons” but twice as many morons.

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The rock ‘n’ roll raucousness now is stilled;
with Vivaldi the halls of the house are filled.
Where gerbils and hamsters once reigned supreme,
there’s time to think, and plan, and dream:
The kids are gone.

Two-a.m. feedings have long since fled,
and two-a.m. entrances nothing to dread.
From close of day to dawn’s rose-red,
We sleep the sleep of the grateful dead:
The kids are gone.

The bathroom is free, our showers are short,
we no longer hasten from sport to sport,
the mountains of laundry are molehills at last,
and supper in shifts is a thing of the past:
The kids are gone.

There’s time for our hobbies, we read at our leisure,
we walk and we talk to each other for pleasure.
But once in awhile, a brief, sorrowful sigh,
or a tear quickly wiped from a treasonous eye,
reveals our awareness: Our life’s task is done.
The kids are gone.

© 2005 by Meg Lark

Every once in so often, it just hits you. Yesterday was one of those days, for no evident reason.

Nothing too much is new. Scrambling like mad to get ready for my third year of Russian. It would help if Life didn’t keep getting in the way, but it does, and probably a good thing, given the sentiments expressed above.

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After it began to rain yesterday, and my husband could no longer work in his garden, he came in and was rattling around the kitchen. Suddenly he stopped and looked at me with a peculiar expression on his face, and said, “It’s been a year since Chris moved out.”

Yep. A little over a year, actually. When the move took place, I was at the choir school in Jordanville, so when I walked in the door at last, and brought my suitcase into our bedroom, I was confronted, at the other end of the hall, with the sight of Chris’s bare bookshelves. It was like a small knife slicing right into the solar plexus. Now a year has gone by, and we have seen him twice in that year. He has grown enormously in self-confidence, knowing that he can, after all, make it on his own in life; he has a job he loves, and has mastered the art of finding his way around a strange community and making it home. He seems to have found his own place in the world, and that’s a beautiful thing to see.

However, just because the kids go out on their own and you’re no longer “responsible” for them, doesn’t mean you stop wondering if they’re OK, if they’re warm enough in the winter or close to heat stroke in the summer, if they’re getting enough to eat, if their finances are OK, if their friends are “good enough” for them (as if there were such a thing as friends who deserved your Wonderful Kid)… The list goes on and on. I have a dreadful suspicion that I will be fretting into eternity about great-great-great grandchildren — or maybe I should just leave that to their great-great grandparents???

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