My Grown-up Christmas List

What with the holidays racing up I have been thinking that a Christmas List is a good thing. I have lists of things to buy, places to go, ornaments to decorate with, hours I work, who arrives when and the like, but I didn't yet have a Christmas List. So I set about composing a list. I have realized that it's not too different from what I would have asked for as a child. Here is my grown-up Christmas List.

1. A pony - or 300 all in a red shiny Mustang, leather interior, hard top
2. Chocolate - the great European kind, or Mom's Dark Chocolate Homemade Fudge
3. Boots - Italian Leather, black or camel colored, calf high, non-pointy witch toes
4. Happy, Healthy Friends and Family - All of them, especially Katie, Patrick and Grandma O
5. Peace on Earth - All of the earth, to every person, no exceptions including myself

I bet if you think about it long enough, your list is just about the same as mine.

Choir Nerds

A choir I am a part of will be singing in two weeks at our lovely state capital building. After having practiced for four months, we are heading into crunch time and sang for two hours yesterday. A long time for a once-a-week singer!

Anyhow, as we were racing through songs and repeating and dissecting, we all got tired and a wee hoarse. But we sounded great. And we were cracking jokes and harassing our director (as often as possible!). Standing there I realized what it was to be a choir nerd. I know that 20 years from now I will remember that feeling of 'group' and tell my nieces and nephews the jokes that they won't get and I will laugh.

I feel as though I have earned the right to say "This one time at choir practice..."
It's official. We are choir nerds. Love it!

Foggy Beaches

Just returned from four glorious days on the lovely south coast of Texas. 85, breezy, no crowds, gaudy sunsets and great pizza. What more could I want? Now, I often laugh at others who say that Texas is too hot. I love the heat. 95 is great! And 105 is even better. You sure cannot beat 85 degrees, a tan and the salty air in November.

One day we were caught on the island by fog. It was a heavy, wet fog that sat like a hovering mama chicken on the island all day. Walking on the beach was like taking a shower. The air was dripping from our hair and people and buildings would emerge from the milky abyss only to slide back into it. It was as if the world had been washed away and only we had survived.

Driving back home through Houston is hell, of course, when you hit it at rush hour. And I am reminded that the world is not all surf and cloudy beaches. There are the bombs that blast life away in Jordan. There is hatred and malice. But in all the dreary fog of this world, I see the beauty, the love and the mystery. I know that every cloud is not doom. Sometimes it is just the foggy blanket that is hiding the world from view.

Constitutional Amendments, again?

All those years ago, when our Constitution was written, it was good. Today it is still good. And now we, as the American public, have the right to vote on changes to our constitution that involve mundane things such as paying billions of dollars to move private railroad lines. Come on people!

Let's get our heads thinking on the real problems (abortion rates, drug usage, murder, 11th graders who still cannot read) and allow companies to realize that they can take care of themselves without making the American public pay for it all.

Why on earth change a good thing (our Constitution, for example) to get a large group of people to fork over more money to a small group of folks? And if we would just stick to our laws, both legal and moral, we wouldn't have to change our Constitution. When are we going to finally understand that?

Mayonnaise should die

Whoever thought up the white, smelly goop that seems to proliferate the hamburger joints and hotdog stands of America?

Personally, I don't want to smear rotten smelling anything on my burger. Not only does it resemble runny yogurt, it smells like uck . YUCK!

And in all places I know of, you have to specify NOT to put mayo on things. Did you know they even offer it with fries in some places? Double yuck.

I know that food is a precious commodity, but mayonnaise doesn't qualify! Kill mayonnaise!

Face Plant

I watch an almost two yr. old two days a week. She's cute. Used to resemble Gollum when she was younger, but time has been kind. She has hair now and the gangly limbs and hunched walk have faded. And I still have yet to hear her say 'my precious'...

At the park today she was on the regular old swings, no straps or restraining devices. Loves it! Sings and laughs and blinks her big eyes in the sunshine that flashes though the trees. We've done this time and again on the big girl swings. And always I say 'hold on tight' and she squeezes her little hands so the fingertips go white.

Today in her joy she decides to point out the other open swing next to her. Not quite up on the one handed swinging yet, she underdogs herself and face plants in the pebbles. She sat up quite stunned and dusty and looked at me with loaded eyes and then started to wail.

Of course I was racing to her ( all of what? three feet?) and thinking 'why on earth did she let go?'. Hugs later and with tears dried I was glad she was fine and she did the bravest thing. She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the swings and made me put her back on and give her a BIG push (she loves the little bit of air she can catch in a big push, the early signs of an adrenaline junkie).

Inspired to let go, maybe fly and maybe fall, to get up and try all over again for a bit of air I might catch. All by a two years old. Amazing.

So much for it being 2005

My dear friend is heartbroken. Or mayhaps heartbruised. Always tragic, assuredly, but more so when you know the cause.

How can one still, in this forward thinking time, this century, hate or shun someone based only on the tint of skin?

I have laughed at the ignorance of old timers and the generations gone, thinking 'how naive of them' and pitying them for their blindness. People, no matter the color of their hair, or the length of their nose or the limp in their walk are, after all, still people.

People are much the same. They want more than anything to be loved. They want someone to listen to them, hold them, tell them that even if the world falls apart that the love will go on. How can we expect that to happen when we cannot see with our hearts and look only with our eyes?