Years ago on Easter, when Babelfish Translator first came on line, a friend and I amused ourselves by running familiar religious phrases and quotes back and forth through different languages, and watching the original meaning fall apart.
The best bit: at one point we were left with mentions of "Jesus, in the meat, lingering on two morsels of wood."
We made ourselves laugh like mad (and also created an unsettling underlying feeling that that's probably what happens every time religious ideas get translated and retranslated in different languages).
But this is not a post about doubt. It's about Easter. And Spring.
Yesterday, on the way over to my cousins' for Easter brunch, I passed a Catholic church just as Easter mass was letting out, and little boys in lavender ties and little girls in yellow dresses were streaming out the front doors. It looked all family-oriented, and cute, and the kids had happy, expectant looks on their faces. Thus I experienced the first pangs of Catholic guilt of spring. I keep
saying I'm going to start attending mass nearby, and so far I've only
gone once (but I gave blood...I gave blood!).
Yesterday I enjoyed the first major bike ride of spring, heading south
on the lakeside trail all the way down to Navy Pier. This, of course,
also resulted in the first sore butt of spring. Seriously, even with
the gel seat I bought last year, ouch.