Ghosts of Christmas Past

I've never really understood the whole holiday decorating thing.  I have dutifully assisted my brother-in-law in putting up his Christmas lights on more than one occasion - but I have been out of the holiday decorating mix in my own home for so long that I've lost touch.  There are a few factors involved, in my estimation.  My disposition is not suited to decorating, for one.  Since there seems no practical basis for the activity, a part of me just doesn't get it.  There are aspects of decorating that also don't work for me philosophically.  I know this sounds stupid - but part of me feels like it's just a way to fake yourself into the holiday spirit.  The especially "Protestant" part of me (those of you who have known me long and hard know what I'm talking about - the rest of you will just have to try and catch my drift) feels that - hey, if you can't get excited about the birth of the Savior for its own sake - you've missed the point.

But as this 50th Christmas approaches, and I drove home from dinner alone tonight, down a street I haven't traveled on in a long time (even though it's within walking distance from my home), I encountered part of the heart of true suburban Christmas excess.  Homes with so many Christmas lights and silhouette reindeer and plastic Santas, plastic choristers, plastic elves - lights, lights and more lights - that you know more than a small element of neighborly competition is involved.  "I love Christmas more than you!"  Displays of such conspicuous electrical consumption that the owners must have some twinge of regret when the December electric bill comes due.  Then I realized that the last time I had traveled down this street, I would have been going to visit my mother and father-in-law, both ghosts of Christmas Past now - and they reminded me that, administered in a proper dose, those Christmas lights can be beautiful in a place and a season where nights come early and stay late.  If you're lucky, you reach that point in your life where the ghosts that haunt you aren't frightening anymore; in fact, they can feel like old friends reminding you of things you hadn't quite forgotten - but almost.

I went to get a donut right after that.  Luckily for me, they didn't have any raised sugar so I came home and wrote this down.  It's fifty-fifty whether I go looking for donuts later.  Lord knows I don't need a donut - but the idea has its appeal.

That's the news from where I am.  "It's not a sad song, though you may feel it that way..."  Hope you have a safe and blessed Christmas and a Happy New Year wherever you are.

Take care.

RTT: She got me the "Fatty" pants

- My lovely wife (the Middle-Aged Woman) has a pretty open schedule lately, so she took pity on me and went shopping. For me. You see, all but one of the 4 pairs of pants that I wear to work had...problems. The ravages of age and excessive wear had taken their toll, so she went in search of a bargain on some new pants for me (this being an unbudgeted expense and all). And she was wildly successful! I think she found 4 pairs for about $80.

There was just one catch: two of them were "Fatty" pants.

You know, the kind where the waistband of the pants has some "give" to it. But these two pair don't just have an "elas-ticky" waistband - there seem to be different panels of fabric at the waist that will adjust based on just how fat you happen to be. These are pants that will make getting fat easier - by quickly adjusting to any new girth, so there is no warning sign of your trousers getting snug. (The b*stards!) What will these fiends think of next?!

- Little chocolate donuts are just delicious. I think a new food group should be created just for them. I would call it the "So d@mn delicious if you eat the last one I'll kick your @$" food group.

- Do you think I should be concerned that wife is reading a book titled "Marrying George Clooney"?

- I don't know why, but sometime in the last couple weeks, the MAW stopped putting my sandwiches into plastic sandwich bags and started wrapping them in waxed paper. I wonder if she's taken a principled stand against sandwich bags. If so, I probably need to tell her that the wax paper seems to create a larger amount of waste than the sandwich bags.

- Maybe my sandwiches are just too big to fit in the bags. Maybe she thinks I'm eating too much.

- Maybe the whole "Fatty" pants thing is supposed to send me a message: "Hey, Fatso!! Why don't you just stop scarfing down all the little chocolate donuts!!!"

- Do you ever just scare yourself sometimes. Happened to me.

- Just now.

- I have a $200 cell phone bill this month. Why is my cell phone bill $200 this month?

- Do you think these pants make me look...insane?

Take care.


PS: Did I mention that you are supposed to visit Keely at the Un-Mom immediately.



If not sooner.

PPS: Don't forget to visit He Read/She Read tomorrow and check out the reviews of Yann Martel's Life of Pi by the delightful Pamela (from the dayton time) and Yours Truly (from right herely) . You won't want to miss that!

RTT: "Oh what a tangled web we weave..."

When first we write so randomly.*
Or something.

- I don't get why I'm having what amounts to a writer's block whenever I sit down to write a post here lately. I don't seem to have any problem writing in general - I just seem to have a problem writing what's on my mind.

- Maybe it's time for me to work on that post idea I've had lying around for awhile - tentatively titled "The limitations of transparency" - about the decisions we all make concerning how much we want to reveal of ourselves. Not just on blogs, in life! And do the boundaries we establish make us dishonest in our dealings with other people? When does choosing not reveal something about yourself become dishonesty? (I get a few more good ideas together on that one and I'll have a new "Meaning Of Life" post...)

- This weekend, I edited down about the first half-hour of what I expect to be a great new instructional video on Chi Sao demonstrated by my good friend and teacher, Sibok Rocco Ambrose. If you live in the metropolitan Detroit area and are interested in the finest training in self-defense and martial arts around, for yourself or your children, you need to check out Ambrose Academy.

- Later this month, The Girl and The Boy will celebrate their 20th and 18th birthdays, respectively. Good God, I am old.

- So Pamela (from the dayton time) emails me today. She started reading Life of Pi on Friday - and finished the d*mn book in a day. Who the h*ll has time to read a whole 400-page book in ONE DAY? Doesn't she realize the kind of pressure that puts on me?!?!
(Pamela, it's just a joke, sweetie. I don't want to cause trouble again just because I don't know how to write stuff so that it's funny...)

- I don't feel old.

- Did I mention that it's really cool when your kids get older and they're not home all the time and you don't have to wait until they're asleep to have sex?

- I'm not advocating that anyone has to wait until their kids are asleep to have sex (but that is pretty much how the Middle-Aged Woman rolls, if you know what mean). But when one of the parties whose cooperation is essential in these pursuits generally has difficulty staying up much beyond 9 pm... I'm just sayin' - absence makes the heart grow fonder.

- Other things may grow as well.

- Have you ever noticed how underused the word "engorged" is?

- Since becoming a freelance writer, the Middle-Aged Woman has been making a lunch for me to take to work every day and preparing many fine evening meals. Tonight, she had a little mishap with some pork chops (I'm not a big pork chop fan anyway - she likes them though) - and so I had to leap into the breach and salvage dinner tonight. And, though I don't like to brag, I think it's fair to say - that I buy make a mean Crispy Strip**.

Bon appétit!

Take care.


PS: Did I mention that you are supposed to visit Keely at the Un-Mom immediately.

If not sooner.


* Apologies to Sir Walter Scott.
** "Crispy Strip" is a registered trademark of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Sunday Dinner Every Night

My good friend, Paul, enlisted my assistance a few weeks ago in putting together a video for entry in the Food Network's The Next Food Network Star competition.



[Since the code from YouTube doesn't seem to be working (never had a problem before), try clicking here for the video...]

I helped him with the script and worked behind the camera. His lovely wife edited the video (great job trimming it to exactly 3 minutes!). And we all enjoyed the lamb ragu.

I'll let you all know when it's time to vote for Paul as The Next Food Network Star!

Take care.