Christmas Blessings

The nation got a Christmas present yesterday: health care reform will become a reality. In spite of the fact that the House and Senate must reach a compromise bill, the two bills are not that far apart. The bill was analyzed clearly and thoroughly yesterday in the Washington Post... There have been lots of lies flying around; see the truth for yourself -- in chart form-- for those of you who will cry: The Post is biased. Facts are facts, and they are presented plainly and clearly.
The Post is free on line. You have to sign in to post comments, but you don't have to sign in to read.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year - or whatever holidays you celebrate.

It's Not Ours

It’s Christmas Eve. I always picture the shepherds as they were watching the flocks on what they thought would be an ordinary night. They were “sore afraid” at the sight of the angels. I don’t blame them.

Until I was researching a Christmas play I was writing, I didn’t know much about shepherds. I knew humankind is the “sheep,” and God is the shepherd in Psalm 23. I knew being compared to sheep is not flattering. I knew sheep are dumb, wayward animals who, as humans are wont to do, follow the crowd – herd. I knew all that, but I didn’t know much about shepherds.
Luke says the shepherds were “in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night.”
Shepherds, I discovered, were thought of as, well, pond scum. They were migrant workers, usually working for one person for a while, and then going somewhere else.
They had the reputation of being thieves. The pay was low; the job was either boring (watching sheep graze) or terrifying (fighting off wolves). Fathers didn’t say to their sons, “Study hard so you can be a shepherd.” No. It was more like “Son, see those shepherds? They didn’t do their homework when they were your age. Do you want to be like that? Hit the books – now. I mean it.”
So the lowest of the low were the first to learn of the King of kings. Ironic, wouldn’t you say? You would think God would send the news first to a high priest, not a bunch of ignorant shepherds. But you’d also think God wouldn’t choose for his son to be born in a stable, either.
How many people in the world have change in their pockets and money in the bank? You probably do – I hope you do. Having that much money is something we take for granted. Do you know what percentage of the world’s people have as much as we do?
Eight percent. Eight percent. If Christ were being born today, people like us wouldn’t be the first to know about it. God’s sending the news first to lowly shepherds reminds us God loves every single one of us, no matter how despised, no matter how dirty.
There’s a lesson here. We’ve got a lot. Most people have little or nothing. We have to share. The blatant lies flying around about President Obama’s health program infuriate me. It’s really not his program, anyway. A majority of Congress has to support the bill before it becomes law. His program has many flaws, I’m sure, but everyone should be able to get health care, period. Everyone. Whether they “deserve” it or not is not for us to judge. It’s really not our money we’re hanging onto so tightly. It’s God’s money. We are stewards only. We, like the shepherds, are taking care of what is not ours.
The Senate passed their version of the Health Care bill this morning.

Anticipation!

It’s Christmas Eve-Eve. I love this date. I love Christmas Eve too, almost more than Christmas. I love the anticipation. Anticipation is a wonderful feeling if it is accompanied by certainty. We know Christmas will come. We are sure.
Another day of anticipation is (or was, I let it slip by) the Winter Solstice on the twenty-first.

It’s not that I see anything mystic or magical about this date – I am a Christian—but after the twenty-first, the days start getting longer. I love the sunshine, and every day we’ll be getting more of it! That is cause for celebration.
I think of the ancients and how they observed this day. Notice I don’t use the word celebrate. It was no celebration for the unlucky humans who would be sacrificed to appease the sun. I don’t approve of human sacrifice, mind you, but I understand their desperation. Just think. I know the sun will come back. They hoped it would come back, and if the tribe lost a virgin or two--

Imagine living in Scotland or England or Ireland on an ancient December twenty-first (you wouldn’t call it December twenty-first, of course). Those countries are foggy all year round. Add the winter darkness and the cold—-of course they wanted the sun to come back; they would die otherwise. I’m reminded of a book I read: A World Lit Only By Fire by William Manchester. Isn’t that title evocative? Until Thomas Edison’s light bulb, the whole world was lit only by fire. Much of the world still is.
For the ancients the solstice was about terror; but for us, it’s all about anticipation: spring will come; no sacrifices required- thank God.

We were Fine in the Blizzard of '09

The DC area is digging out. Roads are clear, pretty much. But on my way down 270 today, the sign says: Right two lanes closed for removal of snow. Think about it. The snow fell Friday. Now it's Tuesday and there is still a massive amount of snow to be removed: enough to close two lanes of traffic on a very busy highway. Enough to bring out the bulldozers -- the big ones. Traffic is crawling from Bethesda past Shady Grove - and that's a far piece.

Here is the blizzard as it happened.

We’ve been hearing about it all week: it’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming.

Friday: To the grocery store. The tv cameras are already there. This is going to be big news. We can forget about the health care reform battle for a moment.

Every single cart is gone. No—here’s one. Inside people (mostly men) are standing in front of the shelves with cell phones jammed next to their ears. “You want what?” and
“It’s where?”

A young couple is carrying only a basket. There is no way they can fit what they will need in just a basket -- no cart. Optimists.

My mother told me: NEVER go to the grocery store without a list. I could no more leave without a list than go to the store in bare feet. I feel smug as I zip past those people blocking the cereal aisle, staring off into space, muttering.

Friday afternoon: It’s snowing - tiny white flakes. It's a distinctively non-Southern snow, dry, not wet, frozen, not half melted. This stuff is going to be here a while. Where on earth is the newspaper? Maybe we'll find it in the spring.

My neighbor struggles up her driveway, a paint can in each hand. “Everyone else is standing in line to buy milk, and you're buying paint?" I say.
She shrugs. "I'm going to be stuck inside anyway."

The forecast is for twenty-five inches. I don't believe it. But it's still coming down.

Saturday morning: Ida Jane orders me to open the door: she wants out. The snow is piled so deep she sinks to her stomach. She looks at me as if to say, "Can't you do something about this?"

My neighbor who moved to DC from Boston gets to use his snow blower for the first time in five years. Bless his heart, he blows snow off everyone’s sidewalks.

People are hard at work, shoveling snow, but the people down the street believe in having a good time. They glide by on cross country skis. He says he hasn't had these skis out in five years! "There is a left pole and a right pole,” he says, “but I’ve forgotten which is which. Oh well.”

So much snow – we can’t go anywhere, so we don’t have to feel guilty for NOT going anywhere.

It was a lovely weekend; now we are digging out. I wouldn't have believed there was this much snow in the whole world.

Read This Book!

I am suffering from book envy – talent envy – word mastery envy. I’ve just finished reading Wally Lamb’s The Hour I First Believed.
How I wish I could write like that! I’m a good writer, but I am not in Wally Lamb’s class. I’m not fit take out his trash.
The book isn’t an easy read. I was so disgusted with the main character I just wanted Lamb to kill him off. But Lamb is a magician. He drew me into Caelem’s world, and I began to wish him well (but I still didn’t like him. I approved of his politics, though.)
I always read the acknowlegements. Lamb said the book took nine years to write, not hard to believe, considering the lengthy list of research sources in the back. The book concerns Colombine, the Civil War, prisons for women, Hurricane Katrina, and several other subjects I’m failing to mention. Just read the book.
The title makes no sense until the very end, but hold on. All will be explained. I’m sure the book will be a movie, but however good the movie is, the book is better.
Put this on your to-do list. Do it now. Read The Hour I First Believed by Wally Lamb.

Firefox and Microsoft - please leave me alone.

Microsoft and Firefox, I am on to you. You want me to spend money, don't you?
You will not let me alone with my antiquated software which works perfectly well. Oh no. You keep offering me updates:

"Firefox is installing your updates and will start in a few moments."
News flash: I do not want new updates. I want you to start already.
I wait impatiently. After several minutes, I get another message telling me the updates cannot be installed because another edition of Firefox is already running.
I am directed to reinstall Firefox.
Listen, Firefox. I do not want updates. I want the edition of Firefox already running to open.

And then Firefox sends me this one:
"Well, this is embarrassing." What? Is my computer blushing?
"Firefox cannot restore the windows from your last session."
I didn't ask you to restore anything. Just open!

When I tried to post this blog today, Blogspot sent me a message saying I couldn't post because I didn't have cookies. Look, people. You were happy with my cookies before; you let me post yesterday. What is it? Do you want me to sample your new recipe?
Fine. I'll start all over. I'll reboot: ctrl + alt + delete
Waiting. Waiting. Then
"The program is not responding." Well, duh.
"If you want to end the program immediately, click End Now." Promises, promises.
I click "End Now." It doesn't. I wait.
It's time for drastic measures. I push the magic on/off button on the keyboard. I restart.
Then this message: "Your last session of Windows closed unexpectedly..."
And whose fault was that? Yours!

I'm not a technophobe. Really. I just think if it ain't broke don't fix it.
Microsoft, Firefox, Blogspot: leave me alone.

Christmas on Hold?

It isn't looking a lot like Christmas yet, and we're halfway through December. Is it just me, or does everyone seem to be putting Christmas on hold this year? (Everyone, that is, apart from the stores, which started trumpeting Christmas right after the Fourth of July.)
Last year I was deluged with catalogs starting in September - this year the catalogs have trickled in - maybe seven in all. I don't object: I'm all for not wasting paper and saving the planet, but I don't think altruism is the reason the catalogs aren't coming. Merchants have decided catalogs are not profitable.
On my street only one person has put up lights - and that as late as last weekend. I was the only person to have a wreath on my door the weekend after Thanksgiving. (As for the lights, I'm lazy. I admit it. I'm waiting for my teenage son to do it for me. Given enough cookies and nagging, it will get done.)
I don't see evidence of cheer in my walks around the neighborhood, either. Could it be the economic mess George W. left us with has made Americans (gasp!) thrifty?
Are we returning to a quiet stay at home, low key, noncommercial holiday? Have we decided our Christmases were too loud, too secular, too ostentatious? Somehow I don't think so. I believe we will go back to our crazy Christmas frenzy when the economy improves. It's the American way, after all.
Merry Christmas, everybody.

Just What is a Fairy Door?

I first heard of fairy doors when I lived in Michigan. Ann Arbor is famous for its fairy doors. One can take tours (there are maps of sites), or the adventurous and persistent can Some people enjoy going on a fairy door tour; there are maps of fairy door sites; some folks like the thrill of the hunt.
A fairy door can be anywhere: on an inside wall, on an outside wall, Some are inside, some are outside. Some are high; some are low. The Ann Arbor doors are all "urban fairy doors." An urban fairy is a different species from your common everyday country bumpkin fairy. The urban fairy's doors look exactly like human doors, except smaller. According to the experts (self-proclaimed) an urban fairy is one-twelfth the size of a human. The doors are all locked, or that is, locked to humans. Would you want someone twelve times your size peering into your house? Whether the fairies have wee keys is not known. Some experts say a spell is suffiecient. Since there is no reported sighting of a fairy opening doors, the question remains unanswered.
Ordinary, that is non-urban fairies, live behind all kinds of doors. Some are round, some are rectangular; some look like stone or brick. Many fairies live inside trees, with their doors somewhere on the trunk.
Some humans make fairy gardens, complete with gates, fences, and plants.
Whether people want to attract the little beings or appease them is not clear. Fairies are not necessarily benevolent. Reports from Ireland are that fairies steal human children and leave fairy children in their places. Why? No one knows.

We Need Slow Shopping

I heard on NPR yesterday that people shopping in farmers’ markets have many more ( I forgot how many more) conversations than those shopping in supermarkets, and once again I am reminded how lonely we are.
Just imagine: every day you go to the market. You can walk there easily. You know the fish man and the vegetable man and the butcher and the baker as people – and they know you. You know the names of each other’s children. You know the fish man is planning a vacation to Aruba and the butcher is planning to retire.
Besides knowing you, they know their business. Every now and then you see a fish you’ve never heard of or a vegetable new to you – or you get a new recipe for hamburger. You eat well, with the only “junk food” being cookies from the bakery. There are no racks of potato chips here. Everything here is real food – not processed until it is no longer recognizable.
You see other shoppers. You probably see someone you know. You have conversations about this and that. You walk home and see lots of neighbors on the way. You have conversations with them.
Americans are fat and getting fatter, but if we shopped like eighty percent of the world still does, we’d probably not have an obesity problem – or a loneliness problem.
Yes, you’d spend more time shopping, but you would be a happier person. You would be fit (all that walking); you would eat a wider variety of foods, and you wouldn’t have to watch reality TV because you’d have a community of real people to talk about – not some strangers who agree to bare their lives to the cameras.

Washington has a new verb...

Washington has a new verb: "to salahi" meaning to crash a party as the infamous Salahis did the White House state dinner.
There's more. The two went to the Hays Adams bar and stiffed them for the bill. He left $20 as a "tip" and said his credit cards were "in the car" just like the White House invitation was -- right.
There's more. They went to court because they owed their gardener money. He gave the man his supposedly super-fancy watch as partial payment. Guess what: the watch is a fake.
There's more. She got herself listed on the Redskins Cheerleader Alumni roster, even though she has never been a Redskins cheerleader.
We haven't heard the end of this yet.

"Answer Sheet" Has No Answer

Valerie Strauss: You Suggest an Answer!

In today’s Post, Valerie Strauss, writer of a blog called “The Answer Sheet” criticizes Montgomery Blair high administration for closing the bathrooms in response to student vandalism. Fine, Valerie. What do you suggest?

One reader suggested getting kids (chosen at random, I suppose) to work on Saturdays to fix the bathrooms – thereby giving all kids a stake in keeping them in good order. Excuse me, sir. What planet are you on? What you suggest is illegal. Can you imagine the parental hue and cry? “MY CHILD is not the culprit.” “MY CHILD should not be punished for someone else’s crimes.” Please.

Bathroom vandalism is not new. My father, who was born in 1918, liked to tell about the time he and his friends lifted the heavy log school outhouse off its base and sent it tumbling down the hill. He and his friends fled to the woods. Bathroom vandalism is hardly new.

Here’s a solution: Valerie and her buddies could volunteer to monitor the school bathrooms.

Christmas Survey

I was directed to put this on my Facebook page, but the message says it's too long. I'm still new at this. Read the survey, fill it out, and pass it on.


1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? I prefer wrapping paper, but some things are easier to put in bags (things that are odd-shaped or don't fit in boxes). I was going to be industrious and MAKE bags this year (cloth bags) HA!

2. Real tree or Artificial? artificial. My cats eat the real ones.

3. When do you put up the tree? Probably this Sunday.

4. When do you take the tree down? Within a week after Christmas--depends on what's going on

5. Do you like eggnog? It's okay.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? A bicycle

7. Hardest person to buy for? Buster Who knows what men want???

8. Easiest person to buy for? Deb

9. Do you have a nativity scene? I don't have one now. The cats knock it off the table.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? I haven't even started thinking about this!

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I don't know.

12. Favorite Christmas Movies? It's a Wonderful Life; Miracle on 34th Street

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Last minute

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? yes

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? chocolate - just like the rest of the year

16. Color of Lights on the tree? multicolored

17. Favorite Christmas song? "Joy to the World"

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Travel

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, Blitzen - Rudolph is a new addition

20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Angel

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas day

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? TRAFFIC

23. Favorite ornament, theme, or color? I like lights - the more the better

24. Favorite for Christmas Dinner? Chocolate

25. What do you want for Christmas this year? I want everybody - Republicans, Democrats, Arabs, Israelis, Black, White, Hispanic, etc. to play nice and get along.


26. What is your wish for Christmas? See above.

Working Out is Working

"Have fun!" This is what my husband always says when I am heading out the door to the YMCA to ride the stationary bike and lift weights.
Fun? If you think working out is fun -- you need to get out more. Working out is healthy; working out is energizing; working out is stress relief, but fun?
I think of the bicycle/weight routine as a visit to the dentist. You know you need to do it, but you don't expect to enjoy it.
I'm not talking about an activity you do for pleasure which happens to involve physical exertion. I'm not talking about tennis, or soccer, or hiking. I'm talking about working out because you know its good for you.
Judging from what other people do when they are working out, I'd say I have a lot of company. At the Y one gentleman makes horrible faces when he lifts weights. Another grunts HUHHH! Another gets on the machine and just sits, staring into space. I suppose he is working up courage.
None of these guys really bother me, but I had a hard time tuning out the fellow next to me on the bike the last time I went. Please, please, people. Do not sing along with your Ipod. You don't sound nearly as cool as you think you do.
Workouts are not fun. Having worked out - to be finished for the day - is fun.

Pink Underwear for Him - NO!

There is a note written in permanent marker on our washing machine: DO NOT EVER WASH LIGHTS WITH DARKS! PLEASE!

Who would be dumb enough to wash lights with darks? Who would have to write a note on the washing machine?

Answer one – me. Answer two – my husband.

I am not allowed to wash his clothes any more (I’m not complaining, just stating facts.) He had pink underwear one too many times.

I can't multitask. Or rather I can't multitask without disaster. For example, I almost let the bathtub run over (I was running from the TV to the tub because a movie was on that I wanted to see.) I don’t remember the details – why I would try to take a bath and watch TV in another room at the same time, but I was. When the soaking wet cat streaked through the living room, I went to check. My cat, Peter, loved to watch the water run into the tub. He had been watching this version of kitty entertainment when he fell in. He wasn’t hurt, just mad.