On The Third Day

We flew back late last night after a rough, fast and frigid trip to Michigan. It was mostly all business and it was bone-chilling cold, with the only warmth and fun in time spent with good friends. Lunching with them was like a straight shot of Miracle Gro.

This morning we dressed for church and bicycled downtown, stopping first at the Hilton to say good morning and Happy Easter to the Snarl. More on her later, but part of her story is that she is working endless hours, going into overtime, while finishing up a semester with 21 credit hours.

Each year at this time, the Hilton has two intense weeks of business that require her to be there constantly. Last week, while we were watching basketball in Atlanta, the Honda Grand Prix was here in St. Petersburg and the race course runs directly in front of the hotel. Abby spends the week working the barista part of her job, squiggling the Honda logo atop cappuccinos and lattes.

This week, the hotel is closed to the public as a very large group of Orthodox Jews gather to celebrate the week of Pesach and Passover. They rent the entire hotel. This means that even as race week is winding down, rabbis have flown from NYC and the process of kashering the kitchens begins. The entire hotel is kosher for the week, including the top floor club and Starbucks, both of the places where Abby works. All of the food in the hotel is removed and everything starts from scratch 24 hours after every surface, element, espresso machine and appliance is cleansed. Most of the usual foods and beverages served are not served and every aspect of Abby’s job changes. There are days when money cannot be handled so all transactions are room charges and this generally means no tips, especially in the club where tips are for free services rather than food sales. She also needs to be sensitive to the very literal aspect of "no work" for Orthodox Jews and she sometimes finds herself called upon to do things that aren’t otherwise part of her routine. 

Last year she found it all quite mystical and strange; this year she knew better what to expect and she was happily chatting with guests when we found her there this morning. I gave her a kiss and whispered, "Happy Ham Day" in her ear. She laughed and grimaced; this is the first year she is such a hardcore vegetarian herself that she won’t be sitting down to her favorite meat, Easter ham. She will join us for another holiday favorite: creamed potatoes.

We quickly felt out of place standing there in the large hallway and we biked over to the church du jour. We are true seekers, wandering around in unfamiliar terrain both here and in Chicago. Until we finally find a place to settle, we’re trying on churches. Today we went to the large and lovely and older First Methodist Church and the service ended up being a feast for the eyes and ears, with literally hundreds of lilies, beautiful stained glass windows, a choir, brass, timpani, bells and pipe organ. Most of the service was music and familiar scripture and that was good because the sermon made no sense whatsoever. The sermon was called, "Why I believe in The Resurrection" and the answer was, "because my mom told me about it." Seriously, he said that. I thought he would go somewhere with that, but he only developed it enough to add that his favorite Sunday school teacher, who was also the bus driver, told him about it, too. I couldn’t help but wonder if his mother also told him about the Easter Bunny and I thought a little more depth was called for in explaining why he- and subsequently, we- should believe. Fortunately, I wasn’t counting on him for an answer. Also, I had already feasted at Babette’s repeatedly these past three days.
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My garden here is overflowing with evidence of renewal and rebirth. The yard that was nothing more than scraped dirty sand three short months ago is now growing lush and wild. I’ll post some before and after pictures later this week. The bougainvillea that grows on the alley fence was here when we bought this place but it was mostly dead wood with a few gangly branches that bloomed. I cut it back hard on Easter Day the first year and then I pruned it heavily again last Easter, even though it was flowering better. This year it is so brilliant it sort of shell-shocked my camera when I tried to get a good photo.Boug

My orchids are also happy here. While they are expensive and touchy in the Midwest, some, especially the vandas, do so well here in Florida they sort of mind themselves just hanging in pots on the fence.  These are keeping me company on the porch while in bloom.Porch
Orchid

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5 responses to “On The Third Day

  1. What a beautiful entry–so much to comment on, the trip back to Michigan, Abby’s job, the gorgeous flowers. I wish I could be there with you!

  2. The bougainvillea is so beautiful it is almost painful to see! The orchids obviously love it there and you and Rich seem to be settling in, despite your frequent flights to the frozen north. That Methodist Church was lucky to have you there today! Snarl has a very interesting job; to be able to learn so much while working is a definite perk!

  3. Well the wanderer has returned… we got snow. I know this sounds strange but we really got snow, the most in the whole season… it snowed for three hours and big flakes and it accumulated.. at least for a while. It melted by noon.

    MY BROTHER IS HERE! He came in Saturday, in a small jet from La Guardia and at the high point of the snow with very high winds. He said he thought the pilot wasn’t expecting the wind and landed a bit “hot”. They were 20 minutes early.. unheard of… US Air if anyone wants to know.

    We had a lovely service today with the pastor speaking on John 20… Mary not phased by the stone rolled away, not amazed by the angels in the tomb, and not recognizing the risen Christ when he asked her why she was weeping. She was blinded by her grief and sidetracked by the absence of Christ’s body from the tomb. For her the resurrection had no meaning, was only a “so what?” event …. until Christ called her by name… Mary. He called her name and it became personal and she recognized Him. He was making the point that the resurrection means nothing unless we make it personal. I thought it a very moving and effective sermon and really had never considered that passage in this way. Being a preacher’s kid, I have heard it often and from many viewpoints. I love the “personal” aspect; it brings me peace and joy in the midst of turmoil.

    Oh yes, we had roast lamb… my brother’s favorite. Ham was on Saturday. I roasted some asparagus with Parmesan cheese, crunchy and good. Nyssa had proposals to write, paper revision, physics test, geology paper and RA duty… she did not get home and her basket is waiting. She’ll be home next weekend.

    Your orchids are lovely and those others almost burned my eyes out with their brightness. Can’t wait to see more pictures.

    Now I am on my way to visit Babette again.
    Joyous Easter….

  4. Will you someday teach me to do orchids? Please?

    We buy my mother-in-law one each year for Easter and the display at her place today was just terrific, with 10 plus years of orchids, most in bloom. I seem to just kill them after they finish blooming.

    Hope you enjoyed the day.

  5. You, my dear, possess the greenest of thumbs! But, that picturesque porch is almost too serene. Perhaps you need a dozen or so kidlets to come by and put a few fingerprints on those windows?

    You mention “fast and frigid” regarding Michigan, but you suspiciously leave out the fact that the MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY SPARTANS WON THE NCAA FROZEN FOUR FINALS IN HOCKEY on Saturday night?!! May I confess how terribly sacrilegious I felt yelling Allelulia before Easter morn?

    Our sermon was titled “The Resurrection: Death Isn’t the Last Word Anymore.” That’ll teach you to spend Easter away from your Misery Synod peeps.

    God’s Peace, dear Vicki! He is risen, indeed!

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