I didn’t take photos of any of the things I baked yesterday.
But I have Pascha cookies to send out still. So. I’ll do that.
The Third Labour of Hercules, to capture the Ceryneian Hind. It belonged to Artemis and could run faster than an arrow. He trapped it while it slept.
(via phoebe-bird)
(Source: Spotify)
I am baking up a storm today. There will be photos and links and blah blah blah gonna make some tasty stuff:
- Fleur de Sel Blondies
- Lemon Lavender cookies (vegan/sugar-free/gluten-free)
- Sweet Orange Florentines
- Rosemary Shortbread
Plus fajitas for dinner, and maybe some homemade salsa.
Guys, this is still gnosticism.
This is still gnosticism.
(Source: everything-relatable, via marinatheterrible)
Went to see The Great Gatsby with my mom.
Should have seen it in 3D.
“Why weren’t they playing Gotye in the soundtrack?” [good question, mom.]
Proginoskes from Madeline L’Engle’s A Wind in the Door
So we still getting this tattoo?
(Source: borgevino)
The young grasshopper learns quickly. #nannyadventures #latergram
the difference between pizza and your opinion is that i asked for pizza
(Source: anotherbadpoem, via phil0kalia)
Adam Boehmer, shot by Dylan Priest
I danced with him once and his shirt smelled like a sheep and he wished me well on my dance journey.
(via 16-horsepower)
For example, the mother who stays home with small children experiences a very real withdrawal from the world. Her existence is definitely monastic. Her tasks and preoccupations remove her from the centres of power and social importance. And she feels it. Moreover her sustained contact with young children (the mildest of the mild) gives her a privileged opportunity to be in harmony with the mild, that is, to attune herself to the powerlessness rather than to the powerful.
Moreover, the demands of young children also provide her with what St. Bernard, one of the great architects of monasticism, called the “monastic bell”. All monasteries have a bell. Bernard, in writing his rules for monasticism, told his monks that whenever the monastic bell rang, they were to drop whatever they were doing and go immediately to the particular activity (prayer, meals, work, study, sleep) to which the bell was summoning them. He was adamant that they respond immediately, stating that if they were writing a letter they were to stop in mid-sentence when the bell rang. The idea in his mind was that when the bell called, it called you to the next task and you were to respond immediately, not because you want to, but because it’s time for that task and time isn’t your time, it’s God’s time. For him, the monastic bell was intended as a discipline to stretch the heart by always taking you beyond your own agenda to God’s agenda.
Hence, a mother raising children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative, is forced, almost against her will, to constantly stretch her heart. For years, while raising children, her time is never her own, her own needs have to be kept in second place, and every time she turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. She hears the monastic bell many times during the day and she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because she wants to, but because it’s time for that activity and time isn’t her time, but God’s time.
—
lifeissues | The Domestic Monastery … (via frauluther)
Getting a jumpstart here…
(via shortbreadsh)
time to eat pizza again
Bright Wednesday! Can I marathon on pizza this week? Should I, though?
Guys do you remember years ago when I tried to strike up a conversation with a guy by asking all sorts of interesting questions about the Velikii Sbornik?
This same person was chatting with a lady and asked, “So, Fr. __ says you like ustav. I also like ustav.”
AHHH this is so great I love it.
Love love love that this is happening.
Remember when I used to take selfies first thing in the morning?
