And the Word Became Flesh

In the Catholic and Orthodox Churches, today is the Feast of the Annunciation. My friend, Kathleen-who actually had a major surgery this morning, calls it “The Feast of the Incarnation” and she’s right. Gabriel asked Mary if she would indeed become the mother of her Lord. She said yes and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:14)

This means that we can and should celebrate.

So tonight I’m having dinner with a friend. But I wanted to make myself a special lunch. I’ve been eating vegan all Lent but today, it’s a feast, I can go back to eating like a wonderful omnivore to celebrate the Incarnation.

If you read my previous blog, you know that I am severely lactose-intolerant and one of my goals in life is to find/create as many dairy-free recipes as I can so that I can survive the rest of my life without dairy. Today, I produced two meals for myself that I can eat. And they’re both simple.

One is a basic fried egg sandwich. This is very simple and is merely a knockoff of a sandwich that other people make with cheese. It’s just two slices of toast with margarine with two fried eggs in between

Lunch was a boneless chicken breast cooked in a home-made balsamic vinaigrette with flaked parsley then cut up into pieces and added to a lettuce-cucumber salad. And then I topped it with balsamic vinaigrette.

And then I made myself a dessert out of some lemon sorbet and pieces of a Swiss chocolate bar. It wasn’t ice cream-something that I miss -but it was great.

And I think it’s worthy of the Feast of the Annunciation.

A Bit of Underdone Potato…if only I’d eaten potatoes

To preface this, I must say that the past two evenings, I have eaten spaghetti with mushroom-tomato pasta sauce and a salad with balsamic vinagrette for dinner.

That said, I’ve been having strange dreams.

Monday night, I dreamed that many of my friends were gathered at the home of one specific friend. My Spanish host parents, Marian and Angel, were there-but they had suddenly become the parents of my friends, Kyle and Alex. But Alex wasn’t there. Suddenly, he arrived-with two piercings in his eyebrow that have never been there in real life. Marian and Angel yelled at him while the rest of us went to play Apples to Apples.

I told another friend that if I told his twin about this dream, his twin would probably yell at him. She agreed with me.

The following night (last night) I dreamed that I was in a bed with an old dying woman. To be precise, I was in a bed with the title character from William Faulkner’s A Rose for Emily. Yes, I was dreaming about being in bed with a mentally disturbed woman from a short story written by an author I hate. Suffice it to say, it was a very weird dream.

Why can’t I dream about Hugh Jackman or Brad Pitt like a normal person?