Check your premises at the door. Any preferred stereotypes about masochistic, subservient homeschooling moms will not offer any insight when reading this blog.
Let’s agree that everyone has their own contribution to make to the revolution- this minutae is mine. If you don’t like it or it upsets your cozy mental categories, that’s okay.
As Benjamin Franklin pointed out, “When everyone is thinking alike, no one is thinking.”
Alina came to Alabama from communist Romania with a banjo on her knee at the omnipotent age of three. While her friends were learning how to muster the appropriate southern lingo, she wore red jeans to Catholic school and learned from the nuns that communism was thick as blood and showed up in the color of your genes. Or jeans. It wasn’t quite as clear as the glass windows of the Popemobile.
So she expanded her (albeit) limited horizons. Wrote speeches for her next door neighbor to deliver to the local chapter of the D.A.R.- long, windbagged proclamations of hot and heavy patriotic ardor, stories of generals and saints who hated all the right people for all the godly reasons.
These days, Alina practices the fine southern art of sauntering around aimlessly with her three unschooled children hoping to attract the eye of that native-born city slicker she married.
As a stay-at-home feminist, she refuses to keep more than one room of the house tidy at a time and maintains a strict “no cleaning on weekdays” policy. This explains why the family often camps out in the backyard at night.
Alina hopes Wendell Berry will forgive her for this one transgression against her otherwise impeccable Berry-ness. Her American dream lacks a slot for career or Protestant work ethic. This is only a problem when it comes to conversing with fellow Americans or aspiring immigrants.
She tries to make up for many things by serving on the board of a local waterkeeper group and leading a local F.O.R. chapter. Because peace and reconciliation are good things, no matter which political parties one prefers to frequent.
Since nonprofiteering remains low on the list of American aspirations, Alina sometimes tries to make a “profit” from selling things she sews from other old things she has torn apart. A repugnance for patterns and assembly-line procedures prevents her from producing “products” which others might find worthy of consumption.
Being a dilettante does not receive the respect it deserves in Alina’s hometown of Tuscaloosa, Alabama. That’s why Alina plans to join the Green Party this year.
When she isn’t admiring the sublime curvature of her rather buxom nose, Alina likes to force her children to dress as early American settlers and scream “slow down” at old men in cars inching through the neighborhood.
Sorting through the amnesia of southern childhood and Transylvanian birth has led Alina to paint wooden icons of Walker Percy. If you find yourself annoyed by Alina at times, don’t feel alone- her family would probably agree (especially her husband, who gets rather concerned about photos like the one above). She will remind you (and him), earnestly, “You win some, you lose some” or “C’est la vie” or perhaps even the dread “Please bite me”. And then she’ll start to cry if the sun sets over the lip of the horizon just right.
If you’d like to contact Alina for none of the reasons above, email her at rainscented (at) gmail (dot) com. For some reason, she really likes most homo sapiens sapiens and delights in the individuals as opposed to the rather destructive species.
Alina writes stuff. Some of it is funny.
She also used to write stuff about totalitarianism today. And sometimes she still does.