Now For the Ritual Dropping of a Shiny Ball

Well, it's that time again, when we all gather and watch a ball slowly descend down a pole on top of a large building. Then we all go crazy.

The Saints and angels must be terribly amused.

I can't say I'm sorry to see 2008 go away. As years go, it was pretty crumbly.

On the other hand, I'm glad that all the really nasty stuff was tidily kept in 2008; that way I can say "it's just not my year" as opposed to "it's just not my half decade" or something like that.

Tomorrow is the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God, which is a wonderful way to celebrate the New Year.

I Baby Me, and So Can You

A friend told me a Secret of Happiness. Treat yourself as if you were your own child. Would you let your baby eat junk food all day? Watch raunchy movies? Skip out on prayers? Would you take your daughter to the doctor if she got sick? Ridicule her, belittle her, hold a grudge against her? Or treat her gently but firmly?

Taking care of yourself as if you were your own child means you'll always do what's really best for you. (Of course, this only works if you'd be a responsible parent.)

I think there are also definite benefits in occasionally letting loose and being silly and childlike once in awhile. This week, I plan to:

1. Swing on a swing set at the playground

2. Ride a carousel

3. Skip down a street

(This last activity, I know from past experience, is impossible to do while frowning.)

A Happy Event

I had a pleasant surprise today.

I tried to think of a name, the last name of a Sister's family down in Alabama. And I could not remember! I could hardly believe it; and so I thought plenty hard about it just to be sure.

Spiderman had his gift/curse. Mine is a sort of photographic memory. My brain doesn't take pictures of what it sees ... it photographs experiences. Everyone has a "flashbulb" memory of where they were on September 11th.

But I remember every time I got my name on the blackboard at school, the exact words, cadence and expression of a conversation in first grade, and the wrapping paper designs on presents of birthdays long ago.

I know of a woman, this Jill Price lady, who can literally recall every day of her life. She wrote a book recently: The Woman Who Can't Forget .

Obviously, my little "talent" doesn't compare. But I do seem to remember more, longer than the average bear. And that can be awful indeed, when there's bad things to be remembered.

It's a little sad that I have forgotten these people, since they are good, and were good to me. But I can't help but be pleased. They were a connection to a part of my life that is gone forever now.

If a memory is so vivid, it can be hard to let go of, to separate it from the present reality. Always remembering can be like rubbing salt in a wound. Sometimes healing is in the forgetting.

Merry Christmas

Thanks be to God, I've made it through with hardly any tears.

Currently I'm quite queasy from too many eclairs.

Happy Birthday, Jesus.

It's Not Right

To talk about what a priest tells you in Confession. It's a matter of justice; since the priest in question could never explain or defend himself, you shouldn't go on about it either.

So I was taught, and so is my general practice.

I'll make an exception in this case though. This week, the priest who heard me made some interesting points. Among them: going to Confession is an act of faith itself; what remains is building on that which we can be assured we already possess.

On a side note, this particular priest happened to be a Bishop who has origins in Boston. There's nothing like getting absolution in that accent.

The Defintions of Fudge

n.

1. A soft rich candy made of sugar, milk, butter, and flavoring.2. Nonsense; humbug.

v. fudged, fudg·ing, fudg·es

v.tr.

1. To fake or falsify: fudge casualty figures. 2. To evade (an issue, for example); dodge.

v.intr.

1. To act in an indecisive manner: always fudged on the important questions.
2. a. To go beyond the proper limits of something: fudged on the building code requirements.
b. To act dishonestly; cheat.

Ah, Security Theater

If you're traveling this Christmas, here are the latest airport security regulations.

Be sure you don't take cranberry sauce or maple syrup along. Possibly evil pernicious liquid explosives, those are. Tools of the terrorist trade.

The TSA website shows off the screener's spiffy new uniforms, designed to "convey an image of authority" to passengers.

"Behind every Saftey Procedure, there's an important Security Concern" it informs.

Is it theater or is it war?

In 2005, I boarded a plane departing Reagan National Airport in Washington DC.

With pepper spray in my purse.

Everything Should Taste Like Bacon

With this firm belief in mind, Justin and Dave began creating bacon flavoring products.

Their line includes "Baconnaise" different flavors of "Bacon Salt," and, of course, Bacon Lip Balm.


If any of your Jewish friends sometimes wonder what bacon tastes like, they sell 100% rabbi certified kosher bacon.

Actually, an "8 days of Kosher Bacon," package is available; the perfect gift for Hanukkah.

Arabs Have Shoe Issues

President George Bush (41) used to deliberately mispronounce Saddam Hussein's name. He'd say "Say-dam" instead of "Sah-dam." In Saddam's dialect, "say-dam" roughly translates to "shoe shine boy." Shoe shine boy is a really mean insult in Arab culture, apparently.

Yesterday, you may have heard, an Iraqi journalist lobbed a pair of size 10 shoes at President George Bush (43).

He was arrested but will most likely receive a slap on the wrist.

I wonder what would have happened if he'd thrown his shoes at another President, say, Saddam Hussein?

Trends

There is something comforting about a trend. Because just as something becomes obnoxiously fashionable and ubiquitous, that is the moment its power begins to fade.

When philosophical ideas or cute little Ugg boots are obscure, and their devotion is concentrated among a few disciples, the movement stays strong and purified. They may argue with true fervency for the rightness of their cause, or the must-have-ness of their fashion item.

As the masses listen to their argument and begin to agree, they latch on to the hot air balloon and weigh it down. The impetus for the movement becomes diluted. Soon it will be considered tired and passe. The masses, growing bored, will throw it off in favor of some other sparkling novelty, leaving the scorned trend a shriveled and despised shadow of its former self.

This cycle has played itself out and saved us from many nauseating pop cultural developments, including but not limited to: bell bottoms, shag carpet, pogs, Beanie Babies, and Trolls etc.

The thing about the cycle though, is it allows a trend to renew itself. As popular hangers on are cut off, the hot air balloon begins to rise again.

The Great Depression

No, I am not referring to our current economic death spiral.
Nearly a year has passed since my little mushroom cloud, and it seems I'm still stuck in the nuclear winter. Radioactive fall out still rains upon my head. Oh, the many and varied metaphors atomic explosions suggest.

I've been in remission now for 6 months. Rarely am I in pain. My job is personally rewarding. And it's the best wage I've ever received. It's true that my current living environment is not safe or happy. But compared to former days, when I was totally vulnerable to whatever anyone was going to do ... it is much better now.

But I am a little surprised and annoyed that I am not all better yet. In the beginning, I wondered if perhaps I'd lost my marbles. But counselors of all kinds did their tests on me and practically squealed with delight at the results ... You're so healthy! Especially! Considering!

I know what the problem is. I go to Sunday Mass, I go to Confession. But I haven't received Holy Communion, not for months and months. I was thinking earlier today, that I was grateful I haven't lost my faith. But in some ways I did lose it, at least for awhile ... I believed in God's existence, but I wondered if perhaps He was different than I thought He was.

Intellectually I knew that God is a nice guy. But you know that glowing, lidless, flaming eye in The Lord of the Rings? That's how I felt ... like God was a giant red eye.
Can anyone get me some Visine?

Prove You are Not A Social Deviant: Watch Baby Animals

My brother, two years younger than me, is a Marine. He is training to be an Officer, so his first deployment is still a piece away. He's been through the boot camp thing they do. (Although Marine types will say they don't have "boot camp;" boot camp is for Army people, who join the Army because they Aren't Ready for the Marines Yet.)

Anyway, he is more or less a trained killer. Initially I was a bit worried he'd turn into one of those sociopath marines who use their newly acquired skills to abuse and intimidate. But I knew my brother was going to be okay when I saw him watching this with delight:

A live cam set on a bunch of Shiba Inu puppies.

Really, he is generally quite mean to me ... but he does love animals. He gives them affectionate nicknames, talks to them in Motherese, and generally makes a big deal out of how cute they are. So he must not get off on hurting other weaker things. He's not a serial killer.

Yay!