The Life of a Greek Wife: Hey Wait...You Aren't Greek

Well no, technically I'm not. If you're a stickler then we're probably not going to get along.

I suppose a more appropriate title would be the The Life of a Wife Who Is Married to a Greek. That doesn't really roll of the tongue. Yannos's family calls me Greek since I was baptized in the Greek Orthodox Church. Yes, that's a religion and doesn't really make me Greek, but go with it.

Let me tell you about my baptism adventure since I tell this story often.

First, Everything I know about religion is from musicals. I went to church as a child because I wanted to sing in the choir. We did a musical called Zerubbabel's in Troubbabel. Then, I saw Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, so I know all about that. I was in Jesus Christ Superstar in high school, which is obviously an important part of the bible, but I was a soul sister who danced in vinyl on a platform so that's not very churchy.

For over a year before the wedding I attended classes with 3 different priests in order to prepare for my baptism that occurred the day before the wedding. The priest I spent the most time with was amazing. Father Peter met with me on Sunday afternoons and we talked about classical music and science, and I would tell him I wasn't so sure about this organized religion thing and he helped me find other ways to be spiritual. I really enjoyed the whole process.

Too bad Father Peter was not the person who was doing my baptism or our wedding.

It started off being lovely. Oh, I had to read a very long passage that I had never seen before in front of everyone, which no one told me about, but I got through it with only a few minor errors.

Then, I had been told that they were just going to sprinkle some water and dab some olive oil on me. FALSE. My entire head was dunked and then the entire bottle of olive oil was poured in my hair. Now I looked like a drowned rat and I still had to sit through our rehearsal and bridesmaid lunch.

Here's the best part. Apparently they cut your hair (again, not told about this). Did I mention that Father Anthony had a pretty sever tremor? No, I didn't. Well he did. He tried to cut 3 very long pieces of hair from right around my face the day before my wedding. My wonderful Godmother, Myrto quickly started speaking in Greek asking him to cut it from the back. Everyone says the priests hardly take any hair when they do this - I assure you, it was like I got my haircut.

Do you want to know what you look like when a priest with a horrible tremor starts walking towards your face with scissors after you are soaking wet and covered in olive oil and ashes? Oh goody!