Adorable Ronaldo Comes Out on Marriage Equality

Cristiano Ronaldo

Quite a young god, isn't he?     ;-)

 Cristiano Ronaldo Voices Support for Marriage Equality in Portugal

Monochrome Weekend and Shadow Shot Sunday

 

 Pagan Sphinx Photo

Cemetery in a Portuguese Village         

Monochrome Weekend

Shadow Shot Sunday 

Fotos

SG1 in Lisbon

click on photos once, then twice, for optimal viewing

A collection of sort of quaint and charming and European and all of that, to share with you. I chose them quite randomly and was surprised to note that they all have a person in them (only one known to me) and then there is the cat. I very rarely photograph strangers. Other than the black kitty and SG1, the others are all sort of tourist props. Though I think the gentleman in front of the elevator was just a regular local. All of these are from Lisbon and Obidos, Portugal.

Love,
Pagan Sphinx

Spain and Portugal Photos and Comment Moderation

The Spain/Portugal slide show is now at the right, if you'd like to check it out. I'm still adding to it from the thousand-plus photos I took on this two week trip. I already miss those blue, blue Portuguese skies on sunny days. Only one rainy day the entire time we were there.

See what I mean?

Hundreds of spam comments (or whatever they are called) have been creeping into The Pagan Sphinx in the form of messages in an oriental language I cannot read and which link to porn sites. The comments are being scattered through past blog posts and I'm still plucking them out as I type this. I may not be able to delete them all, as blogger has no system I know of for deleting multiple unwanted comments. I utilized comment moderation once before due to unwelcome comments, but this is the first time I've had any problems with massive amounts of smut-spam.

My apologies for this but it's relatively quick to approve the comments through email so I'm not anticipating any communication difficulties.

Back From Vacation (With Photos)

Hi everyone! I hope you're all having a great summer.

The Supergirls and I are back from a trip to Barcelona and Lisbon. I'm still a bit tired from the trp and the oppressive humidity of the Northeast is sapping me of energy after the lovely blue skies and hot, dry temperatures of sunny Portugal.

We had a great time. Barcelona was a bit of a whirlwind. I would have liked to have spent another three days there. Lovely city for tourists.

Portugal is more of my heart, as I have no less (and probably more) than twenty wonderful aunts, uncles and cousins who made time to spend with us on this trip. The family fix warmed my heart, as I feel a touch of isolation here in the states where I have virtually no extended family.

Here are a few photos from our trip. I'm hoping to create a slideshow to put on the sidebar with a lot more photos for those of you who would like a glimpse of what we saw.

Meanwhile, I must help Sugergirl One put the final touches on her packing, as I'm taking her to the airport for her one-way flight to Santa Barbara. She's on her way to her Beloved Wife and her new life. More details to follow!

All the love,
Pagan Sphinx

Click on photos for optimum viewing size

Supergirls: a building in the Ciudad Vella
Barcelona

click on photo for best viewing size

The Supergirls in Barcelona with Gaudi's Templo Expiatorio de la Sagrada Familia;
(Expiatory Temple of the Holy Family) in the background


Waiting for the bus to Obidos
My mother and me


The fortified wall around the castle at Óbidos Portugal


Praia de Balial
(Balial Beach) Peniche, Portugal

Torre de Belém
(Tower of Belem)
Lisbon, Portugal

The courtyard at the Quinta dos Loridos Vineyards and Winery
Bombarral, Portugal

See You at the End of July (and some music from Mariza)

The Supergirls and I are off to Barcelona and Lisbon tomorrow! Wish you were coming along. Meanwhile, I have some Portuguese music to share with you.

The totally modern Mariza, performing a Portuguese song from the 40s, with a completely modern twist. You really need to listen at least for a few minutes. She's amazing. A totally drop-dead passionate and evocative vocalist.

Mariza was born in the overseas Portuguese Provence of Mozambique. My dearest Portuguese aunt and her daughters, my chummiest cousins, lived there for many years until they returned to Portugal in the late 1970s. Mozambique was taken back by its original people and all the white colonialists had to beat feet. A good thing for that country and a loss of their home for my relatives. But heck, they're over it! I didn't cut them a lot of slack when they told their story but I was glad that they were okay and back home safely. Most of the Portuguese actually got off pretty easy, given their overbearing, colonial presence in a country that didn't belong to them.

I apolozie for the tangent but it all started when I read that Mariza is the child of a Portuguese father and a partially African mother. For years I have wanted to see this incredible woman perform. Fado is a style of Portuguese music that dates back to the 1820s or earlier. It is a very dramatic, passionate and compelling musical style. There is also a style of Fado that is lighter and sounds more like folk music. The dramatic Fado reminds me closest to American blues, though perhaps there is a better analogy. I'm hoping my friend Singing Bear can analyze it for me, cuz he's my resource for all things musical and he knows what he's talking about!Enjoy and I'll see at the end of July. Have a great summer.
All the Love,
Pagan Sphinx

What's Goin' On

There's a lot goin' on! I'm assembling my info for the application packet for the graduate (fast-track) program I'm enrolling in. The first class starts on June 29. That means that I have one precious week after school ends and before I start attending M-TH, from 2:30-7:30 daily, with an hour plus round-trip commute. This ends on July 9.

In two weeks SG1 and The Beloved are graduating from college; cum laude and with thesis honors. Several activities are planned that weekend, which is Memorial Day weekend. The girls are moving into their tiny apartment on the Santa Barbara University campus mid-August. That is starting to settle in, though it's still hard for me to imagine my daughter living a continent away from me. She has applied for a AmeriCorp job which she is eagerly awaiting word about. The Beloved will have her graduate studies and stipend and SG1 hopefully will be working a job with benefits. AmeriCorps is perfect: offers benefits, money toward the cost of paying off student loans and a small stipend. We're really hoping she gets it. She would be perfect in that setting.

SG2 is home for the summer and will be starting her summer job this weekend at the supermarket. She's somewhat despondent about leaving Boston and all her friends. She's settled in very nicely this year and immensely looking forward to returning. This is cause for relief for me, her mother, because her first year was not her happiest. She and her high school boyfriend have parted ways for a few months now and she is seeing other boys, having fun and doing very well in school.

This summer SG1 and SG2 and I are going on vacation together to visit my mother in Portugal; not far from Lisbon. But before we do that, we're making a little stop. I'm splurging on three days and nights in Barcelona for us. I can't imagine the next time we'll have such an opportunity. The Beloved is flying home to Sacramento to spend her last summer with her family before she and SG1 resume their life as a couple. This is the perfect time for the three of us to do some bonding and funning together. Then we go relax with my mother and see the rest of my family and enjoy some hot Portuguese sun, some Atlantic Ocean and lots of great food.

These family trips to Portugal have tended to have sibling rivalry all over them in the past but we're going to try to behave as if that's not so. We three are older and wiser and hoping for the best. And I think we're all really going to try not to get on each other's nerves. (keeping fingers crossed). Speaking of the past. Here's a digital photo of a print (cuz I can't figure out this scanner and I just never get around to figuring it out) of us on vacation in Portugal in 92', I think it was. That flash is glare and the one making the goofy face is SG1, in her own little world.



I think I've accepted the fact that I have to get through this program in order to get out of the trap I'm in at work, which I can't discuss in very much detail here. Today was just awful. Every day that I have like this at work is just another indication of how I need to move on from there. It is simply just a bad fit between this workplace and me.

World and national politics have me burned out. I'm discouraged by the escalation of war. Instead of bringing the troops home from Iraq, we're gearing up big-time for Afghanistan and Iran. I didn't expect such hawkishness from this president. Go ahead and lecture me, if you need to. I know a lot of people feel that Obama is between a rock and a hard place. But you can't convince me war is justified. It very rarely is. It should be a last resort. I know it's ideaistic but it's my conscience and I'm listening to it.

What are you all doing for the summer, do you know yet?

What's Goin' On / Christmas / Solstice

I'm very slow to recover from this plague, as Dianne calls it. At this point, it's a vicious circle of the physical and psychological; with the physical troubles coming first and going 'round and 'round.

The ear pain is gone but my ear is still fuzzy. I'm taking the damned antibiotics, even though I strongly suspect this is viral. I wonder if it's the medication that's making me feel so queezy and headachy and otherwise out of sorts. Today is the last day I take the stuff, as it appears not to be doing much to help me. I have very little appetite and I'm now facing a return to work tomorrow, which I would be looking forward to except that I still don't feel up to par.

I've tried today to shake off the psychological piece of this plague by getting dressed in something other than sleep clothes. I paid some bills; I'm contemplating a load of laundry.

I've yet to step outside since my visit to the doctor's on Thursday. The thought just makes me feel sicker. Some of this low-level depression is due to the weather's most devastating consequence: The Winter Blues or as the shrinks call it: SAD. There was a hint of sun when I awoke not-so-early this afternoon. Yes. I woke up at 2:30 p.m. after having been awake from 2:00 to 5:3o a.m. I feel totally useless and almost lifeless. But not hopeless. Just impatient for this thing to go away so that I can feel normal and get about the business of decorating the house for Solstice. Or Yule.

These terms for the holidays don't exactly roll off the tongue. I was raised with Christmas because of both my mother and my culture; the latter of which is highly Roman Catholic. When I was a little girl in Portugal; where I was born and lived for the first six years of my life, Christmas was exactly that: a religious holiday to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. My father, being an atheist, was willing to go along with some of the traditions that my mother tried to uphold. I don't recall that we had a tree every year; I don't think we did. But I do remember one Christmas where my father found a bare tree branch and stuck it into a tin pail full of sand. We had these little clay knick-knacks around the house: little jugs with tiny hand-painted flowers (I have since bought a whole collection of these on visits to Portugal and we hang them on our family tree) and a few small, plastic toys that we strung with yarn and decorated the tree with.

This was in the early 60's when neither consumerism nor democracy had yet arrived in Portugal. Regular, working people went to church and prepared a slightly more special dinner and desserts than usual. I remember baked chicken, rice pudding in small saucers, with cinnamon designs sprinkled on top. My brother and I got to choose what type of design we wanted for our individual pudding and my mother would sprinkle a start or a spiral with cinnamon.

People went to church for midnight mass but we did not. My father didn't believe in it and though my mother was free to go if she wished, she chose to stay at home with us. One religious custom I recall is that my mother would have my brother and me each fetch one of our boots to leave out for the Baby Jesus to put something special into. It was always something very humble by American standards; even of the early to mid 60's: a couple of clementines, walnuts or a sweet treat. Purchased presents were largely unheard of in our family, though other relatives who were more affluent would get a few toys. We got sweaters that my mother hand-knitted for us or new winter boots, socks; practical things.

I'm not wanting to call the holiday Christmas anymore because I'm not a Christian, firstly. And if I were, why would I want to celebrate the birth of Jesus in December? What I'm really celebrating is The Winter Solstice. Let's face it, the darkest time of the year deserves some merriment; a celebration that the days will soon become a bit longer and we will gradually see the return of the sun and all the life and light it brings. This I can wrap my mind and soul around.

We've given up on the consumerism of the season almost altogether. We give very small, inexpensive gifts to one-another. Our children understand and appreciate that they're fortunate to have the gift of $2oo, 000 educations. At least that's what the full "retail" price of it is. The Girls have worked hard and benefited from much private merit and needs-based help. The government gives us very little, as we are not "poor" enough. That's okay. I don't think it's unfair that the uber-rich parents of their college mates are helping to foot the bill through endowment contributions. Thank you very much.

My contribution to The Season is to decorate the house with those Pagan touches: a tree with a lifetime's worth of two families' respective ornament collections, lots of table-top decorations and lots of indoor lights and real candles, greenery and touches of red everywhere. We also make a wonderful meal and stuff stockings with practical items and candy. We enjoy it. We don't make ourselves crazy and stressed.

Honestly, in preparing my gift list for WP, I came to the conclusion that I don't really want anything. Actually, that's not true. I want a new Imac to replace the ancient, heavy HP laptop that sits on my desk. But I don't need it. This one will do me for some time to come. SG1 will soon need a new computer to replace the one she's had since freshman year. That will be the priority before she starts graduate school in 2010. I want but don't need an Ipod. I had one briefly that WP found on the sidewalk in San Francisco but it only worked for a month before the battery went dead. Neither the battery nor the gadget will be replaced any time soon. I want but don't need a couple of gorgeous sweaters and tops that I've been ogling in online catalogs.

What I wanted most is almost finished: a new floor for a huge area of my house. It's replacing the oldest, ugliest linoleum you have ever seen; dating back to 1952. I kid you not. I'm grateful for the kindness and generosity of my loving partner who knows how much "home" matters to me. And even though the long process of this renovation project has been exasperating at times, it's taught me that our relationship is more important than the instant gratification of a new floor; presto. And so I've learned to be patient throughout the long ordeal of WP trying to fit in doing the floor work with his own job and other matters that come up routinely. If I'd had my druthers, I would have had someone install it in a day but WP is a thrifty man and he insisted on buying the flooring from the least expensive outlet he could find and putting it in himself, saving us about $2,000 in the process.

Oh and a few days ago, I knew even more certainly that I'd found the right man when he came home from the library with a John Lennon biography for me to read. Sometimes I think he's not paid attention to what floats my boat and it's only five years for us; but he is proving that he does indeed listen and care about what matters to me.

I think it was Betmo (sorry, Bet, but I can't find the exact post) who said in a recent post that the best gift is the gift of time. I can honestly say that I have that from WP. We are inseparable. We can spend an entire day going about our respective tasks, in the same house, hardly speak to each other until dinner and still feel connected. Of course, we do find each other frequently throughout the day and we give each other a squeeze or a kiss or a touch on the shoulder. This so works for me! And then there are other times when we spend an entire weekend day watching movies together; snuggling and feeling very lucky and contented.

Time is a gift indeed and I don't intend to miss out on it just because the rest of the world is going holiday-crazy. Time spent also brings the gifts of understanding, acceptance and unconditional love. You can't have those things if you don't invest the time in the people you love.

Namaste, my friends.

P.S. I want to thank my friend Bobbie at Almost There for this post, which inspired a few of my own Christmas (as it was then) memories.

Telling VoVo - Part Two

Supergirl One stayed up very late with her laptop one evening last week and was joined at some point by her Vovo, who couldn't sleep. On SG1's laptop is a wallpaper photo of her and the Beloved, hugging. Vovo asked her if this was her girl and the discussion began.

Since I was not present, what I'm writing is a reiteration of the conversation from SG1's point-of-view. My mother and I have not yet discussed it. I'm leaving it alone. Unless she brings it up, I don't intend to.

With that said, according to SG1, the discussion went less smoothly for her than it did for me when I introduced the subject of SG1's gayness. Remember also that I left it up to SG1 to tell her Vovo about her marriage plans. Supergirl One said that the marriage plans were not well received; with Vovo going as far as to say that she did not approve of two people of the same gender marrying and adding in no uncertain terms that she refused to attend the wedding. Further, Vovo requested that SG1 not come out in Mid-Size Town, Portugal, as it would cause nothing but gossip and ridicule. I had already heard this from my mother in what I call the "intro" conversation, and it came as no surprise then. Supergirl One was a bit miffed by the reaction to her marriage plans but appears to be taking it well.

Since that conversation, my mother has not changed in the least the amount of love, affection and attention she showers SG1 with. I'm both relieved and grateful that unconditional love is continues to be the family hallmark.

No disrespect against my mother but this situation brings to mind one of my favorite quotations of all time. Please, a little less love and a lot more common decency. Kurt Vonnegut wrote that.
I always think of my parents because though I was raised with tremendous love and affection, it was sometimes respect and courtesy that I needed even more than love.

What's goin' On

Supergirl One found a summer job. She starts work next week at what I call a Storybook Farm just over the river from my house. It's a strawberry farm, mostly but they also have cows and sell organic milk and cheese. When SG2 visited, her new boss was making cheese and already giving her pointers. She felt very comfortable with the gentleman farmer and when he told her that the whole family is into literature and writing, that was it. She'd found her niche for the summer!

Me, I'm lacking motivation. I thought that Spring and all her glory would help me lighten my step and begin all the household projects that need doing. Not a chance. I just want to play and blog and read and eat and sleep and hang out with W.P. and SG2.

Supergirl One is still at college. Today is the last day of her campus job and it's the day where I go down to Mount Holyoke and help her pack her stuff to move into the massive UMass campus for summer session. She's determined to graduate with her class of 2009, despite massive setbacks in her freshman and sophmore years due to bipolar illness and frequent hospitilizations. She'd also battled drug reactions, a severe skin rash from a virus and low blood pressure that caused her to pass out on several occasions. I'm continuously amazed, impressed and otherwise blown away by this girl's determination and intellect. Is this my kid? It's what you get when you cross a pagan sphinx with a cunning runt! hehehehe

As an aside, I know I'm boasting and that my English friends rather look down upon we Americans for it, but....SG1's semester GPA was a 3.9. No easy feat at that overly demanding elitist school. We're thrilled and proud and in the hopes of sounding humble, it has little to do with us at this point. Hell, I wanted her to go the easy route because I was concerned her illness would drain the life out of her and she wouldn't be able to do academics at that level. That girl has proven me wrong and that's what makes me so in awe of her.

I'm gearing myself up emotionally, if not in regard to cleaning and organizing my house, for my mother's visit at the end of June. My mother, for those of you who may not know, lives in Portugal. My family (including CR) who read this blog, know and understand fully how much I adore my mother; what a good relationship we now have and how much The Supergirls look forward to basking in her unconditional love - because she is good at that. There are complications, of course.

This is a case where Love can't be everything. Supergirl One, whom my regular readers know is gay and engaged to be married to a lovely young woman, is intent on telling her grandmother that she's a lesbian. SG1 wrote to me an eloquent email explaining her reasons for this. Below is an excerpt from that email:

The choice is between upsetting her [where, honestly, the onus is on her, because she is potentially the party to be behaving negatively] and acting against my own sense of dignity and pride by lying about one of the most fundamental and important aspects of my life. The latter choice also has repercussions for my relationship and the trust I share with my partner.

My own personal worry is not that my mother will be rude or angry but that she will consider this another form of Tragedy. I grew up with the various forms of Tragedy. Besides death, illness and suffering, and natural disasters, Tragedy as defined by my Portuguese family comes in the form of Alcoholism, Adultry and anything else that disgraces one's family. She will doubless be heartbroken by the news that her lovely grandaughter is a lesbian and plans on shacking up with a girl. My mother understands that gays get married. But "gays" are those other people over there somewhere in a world she doesn't understand.

My mother is 77 years old and has been through a tremendous lot. I don't want this news to put her over the top. Honestly, I have no clue as to how she will come to grips with this. Especially without my father, who died almost three years ago. Who will help her to understand? It will have to be me, of course. When SG1 gives her grandmother the news, she'll then go back to her dorm for summer session, while I sit with my mother and help her to contemplate this. I'm worried and sad and frustrated that I have to be burdened by this! My mother will doubtless blame this tragedy on either my divorce from The Supergirls' father or the bipolar disorder, or both.

To complicate things, my Portuguese is not what it used to be and certain things are just so hard to labor into translation. I have this upstanding, proud family where I am the only member of the immediate family who has divorced. It confuses me, really. We have so many nutcases in the family - depression and bipolar illness have touched the lives of several family members. But something like a same-sex relationship can put everyone over the top! WTF?

I'm projecting but with a very good scope consisting of 48 years of experience being a part of my family. We'll see what happens, but Happen it must.

Portugal, Matriarchs and Girls, Girls, Girls

I ended up in the states in 1967, when I was eight years old. The only words of English I knew were a few lyrics from a Beatles tune or two. My parents, older brother and I had been living in the U.S. for twenty years when my parents decided to move back to their home country of Portugal. I've visited many times since. My last two visits happened last summer. I went first in June to help my mother Maria, 78, with her recovery from gastric cancer surgery. In the last two years, she's suffered through the loss of my father, open-heart surgery and the recent stomach surgery.

The second visit, In August, my daughters, a.k.a The Girls, came with me to spend quality time with their grandmother, whom they adore. The solace of family and community kept us going. My aunt and cousins and their children visited daily and helped in countless ways that I may never fully be able to thank them for. The number of visitors to my mother's house to give her hope and strength through her recovery seemed endless. Everywhere I went in this busy Portuguese village - the farmers market, the pharmacy, the bakery, the bank, people knew who my girls and I were and that we'd come to take care of my mother. When I gave them a report, they all seemed genuinely interested. They showed empathy and concern and I recieved more sincere good wishes than it was possible for me to accurately pass on to my mother. Offers to help abounded, even from more casual friends. In Portugal, the "good folk" don't send a Hallmark card and call their duty to the ill and elderly, the grieving ,done. They visit and spend time with a neighbor, an old elementary school friend, a co-worker. They do things that matter. Once, when I had too large a load to walk back with to my mother's house from the farmer's market, my favorite produce vendor there insisted on keeping my packages for me and delivering them to the house at the end of her day. When she did, she also brought a bouquet of fresh cut flowers. The next time she was able, she said, she would come for a visit and tea. And she did.

Through all she's endured, our beloved mother, grandmother and recent great-grandmother, is more beautiful, more loving and wiser than she has ever been. She has chosen to remain at home in her own country despite pleas from my brother and me to come live with us and be near four grandchildren and two great-granchildren (my brother's son and his wife have two new babies). Since my visits last summer, I have altogether stopped asking my mother to return to the states. And if you call a place like that home, why would you ever want to leave it ever again?




Girl #1, Maria, Girl #2 & cousin Susana, also a Great Girl

Super Girl #2, age 19 & Snoopy, my aunt's pooch, age unknown

Super Girl #1 - age 20

My mother, Maria, Matriarch Extraordinaire