Esoteric Bowl

In the year 2006 I resolve to:

* Drink more water
* Drop at least one bad habit
* Get out more
* Find myself a literary agent
* Get my house in order
* Take more photographs
* Throw away all my puka underwear
* Piss someone off
* Save money
* Exercise more
* Expand my garden with vegetables
* Phone Mom & Dad more often
* Volunteer
* Procrastinate less
* Throw away the things I don’t need
* Attempt to sell myself on eBay
* Write more frequently
* Walk in the rain
* Allow myself to be open to something wonderful
* Live Greener

Happy New Year!

There are times when I wake in the morning all set to tap a few thoughts down in the blog. But all too often while sipping my coffee and gathering my thoughts, I’ll make the fatal mistake of turning on the news and visiting a handful of online newspapers.

Before I know what hits me, I’m all bummed-out and the writing mood has quickly faded. Who can blame me, what with Iraq, torture, warrant-less spying, renditions, death tolls, propaganda, Katrina, tax-cuts for the wealthy, stay-the-course, indictments, leaks, global warming, F-grades from 9/11 Commission, and on and on and on in the headlines? After viewing the news, my little blog observations seem rather hollow.

I’m often tempted to chime in on major issues of the day, but what’s the point? The blogosphere cup is overflowing with soapbox rants and opinions, with every conceivable perspective stated, defined, supported, corroborated, linked, argued, debated and a little name-calling thrown in for good measure.

And so it goes. Another day of blogging shot down, and before I know it blogless days turn to blogless weeks. Dare I say, it’s almost as if there’s a War on Blogdom. Okay, maybe not.

I think I’ve got to get back to the basics. Remind myself not to get too wrapped up in all of the noise. It’s times like these when the wisdom of The Serenity Prayer can provide some acceptance in offering a little insight into recognizing what I can and cannot change.

In the end, I need to remind myself why I began blogging in the first place; for the fun of it. Besides, if I am to survive these next few years under the current administration, I’m gonna need to rediscover joy and laughter and count on my sense of humor to get me through.

As part of celebrating Christmas at elementary school, each class was to sing a Christmas song in the auditorium/cafeteria before the entire student-body. My third-grade class was to sing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

As you may remember, there’s a line in the song where Santa asks Rudolph if he will guide the sleigh. Rather than have the entire class sing the complete song, the teacher had the idea that one of us should sing that line solo. The teacher told me that she would like for me to be the one to sing that line. She said that I would make a good Santa because I was tall, and as a fellow student pointed out, I also wore a black belt like Santa. Not exactly ringing endorsements for my singing voice, but being a team player, I agreed.

Each day there was time set aside for practicing the song. We would sing and sing, and in between our singing we could hear the other classes practicing their songs as well. The teacher told me that when the line came up in the song where Santa asks Rudolph to guide the sleigh, I should make my voice as deep as possible to sound just like Santa.

The teacher outfitted me in a red jacket and Santa hat. She told me that she had a white beard at home and that she would bring it for me to wear. She assured me that I would be a great Santa Claus. On the day that we were to sing, I put on the red jacket and Santa hat, only to learn that the teacher had forgotten the beard.

How, we all wondered, can I be Santa Claus without the white beard?!?

The teacher sensed panic and feared a possible holiday mutiny. She went to the art closet and grabbed an opened jar of white paint and proceeded to brush a beard on me. The white paint wasn’t exactly white, rather it had a pinkish hue to it. Instead of resembling Santa Claus, I looked like a kid with a rash with Calamine lotion on his face. The show went on as planned, but for a while there I was known around school as the worst Santa ever.

I received an e-mail from Dad, telling me to go to Google Search and type in the word failure to see what the first item is that shows up.

Inspired by that neat little discovery, I Googled the word Asshole to see what site would be listed first. This is what showed up.

Around a month ago I mentioned that Amber (my niece) was due to have her first child. On the 3rd of November in California, Brayden arrived at 1:49 pm, weighing in at 7 pounds 11 ounces. Mom was present at Amber’s delivery, and the following is an interesting tale of what she witnessed.

After Brayden had come into the world, it was discovered that some of the amniotic fluid had gotten into his nose and mouth and some of the fluid had been swallowed. Mom and Amber both watched as a nurse, a Hawaiian woman wearing a floral print, held baby in her arms and proceeded to stike his back to clear his lungs. Mom said she felt a strange comfort in seeing Brayden in the hands of this woman, and she turned to Amber to assure her that everything would be alright.

When Mom turned back towards Brayden, his lungs were clear and he was now in the arms of another nurse. The Hawaiian woman was gone. Mom asked the nurse who the Hawaiian nurse was, and the nurse told her that she had never seen the woman before.

Shortly after, Mom roamed the halls of the ward looking to find the Hawaiian woman. She never found her. Later on that evening when dinner was brought to Amber’s bedside, on her tray were two mysterious orchids.