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And more Happy Holiday wishes to everyone. The past few days have been busy indeed: packing, working, Christmas (Part I), Christmas (PartII), and several rounds of driving. Happily, Christmas also included an engagement for two friends of mine: Shawn and Jenni. Congratulations to both of them.

Shawn and I lived together for four years in college, along with Wade. Big fun in a small, barely habitable apartment.

I have no details at this point, nor do I have a date, but all
that will come in time…

Once again, friends and family have gone too far with their gifts…I received a cd-writer from my in-laws, indoor soccer shoes from my wife (!) and lots of clothes from my parents. Used to be, I hated that. Now, however, I really, really dig it.

Really.

In a more “true meaning of Christmas” vein, on Christmas Eve, MR and I went to the Methodist Church she attended while in high school.

It was amazing. The service was full of music, with a small and powerful choir leading us. The sermon was very well done, exploring some questions left unanswered in Scripture (”Did Eve ever eat fruit again?” “What ever happened to Joseph?”). Using Joseph as a guide, the pastor explored how we can become closer in our relationship with God, by accepting what He wants.

Example - Joe married a virgin who was with child. Not the usual course of action for a guy in his day and age. He would have been completely within his rights to have her stoned. Instead, he did as he was asked, and married her and supported her. Something that I have been struggling with lately is the same kind of thing - where do my desires and needs end and those of God begin? Put it another way: I believe that God answers prayers…listening is the hard part. I have a tendency to listen for what I want to hear, not for what is being said.

There are some tough choices in the near future for my wife and I, and we are trying to listen, trying to understand. I know what I want, but I want to be sure that the choices we make are the right ones, for the right reasons, and for the right people. Confused? Tell me about it, brother. Me, too.

Anyway, the service was wonderful, and we both left feeling uplifted and much better about things in general. And we realized that the service had encapsulated for us what we are seeking in a church - a sense of community, of belonging, of acceptance and love. The church we attend in Birmingham, while very nice, and very beautiful, leaves us wanting… I mean, in an hour in Atlanta, we felt at home with the community. After several months in the Birmingham church, we still feel like we are on the outside. It’s all about seeking, and, hopefully, finding.

That has always been my favorite part of Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land (one of my favorite books) - the concept of seeking God, of finding Him in life and in each other. But mostly of seeking and of being open to the results of your search.

If you haven’t seen Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas, you just haven’t lived. A very sad tale in the “Gift of the Magi” vein, with songs, villans, and even a cameo by Kermit. What more can you ask for?

I remember watching this when I was a kid, and loving it. Last Christmas, I caught part of it on some TV channel; and yesterday, thanks to Napster, I downloaded the music. Love it.

Wintry weather blankets South. Some of you may laugh, especially those from areas more Northerly than Alabama, but it’s pretty damn cold here these days. My office didn’t open until noon to allow some time for ice to melt off the
roadways.

Snowdays? I’ll take ‘em!

Things have been rough for some folks near here. A tornado struck Tuscaloosa, Alabama this past Saturday and killed 11 people.

I was in Bessemer, Alabama at the time, a suburb (kinda) of Birmingham, working at a charitable event. Bessemer is only about 30 minutes away from Tuscaloosa, and at one point during the afternoon, we had to go downstairs and sit in a concrete hallway, hoping that the tornados would pass us by.

At the time, I thought it was a bit much, having us go downstairs. Then I watched the news that evening.

Those of you who know my wife and I, and our little animal kingdom, will find this particularly amusing: Last night, a friend of ours took in a lost dog. She said he sat in her yard and in the street in front of her house for several hours, just sitting. So, she brings him inside, cause she’s a nice person, he has a collar, and it was in the low 20’s last night. However, her parents were in town last night and had to get up early to go to the hospital this morning. And my friend already has a dog. Two dogs who do not know each other (much less two who do) can be very loud, and can keep peeps up at night. So, she calls us, and asks if the dog can spend the night at our house.

Like we’d say no.

Sure, I said, one more won’t hurt.

Like hell it won’t. You see, we have three dogs of our own, as well as four cats. One more strange dog, who is a bit freaked out, I’m sure, hurt a bit. We tried putting him in a crate in the kitchen, and keeping our dogs in the bedroom with us, but that didn’t work. Visitor-dog was unhappy with the arrangement. Vocally. So, at 1:30 am, I got up, made up the fold-out bed, and locked myself and stranger-dog in the back room, leaving my wife to fend for herself with our three. I figured that having company would shut newboy up.

It sort of worked. He was very active all night, walking all over me and the bed, and whining in a low kinda whine.

I don’t think that either of us (my wife or I) got any sleep at all.

Elsewhere today - Leather egg waxes poetic: A beautiful view of Boston.

From now on, this is where I will get my Indecision 2000 coverage.

In other news - the Pumpkins Circus Folds Up With Epic Show. Nice review of the final show, with a complete set list. Now, when I try to get the show off Naptster, I’ll know what songs and the order. Isn’t that special?

Really, though: I confess that I have not dug much of the recent Pumpkins’ music, and I know that Billy doesn’t give a rat’s ass either, but I was a huge fan of the band from Gish to Siamese Dream and Pisces Iscariot. I regret not going to Birmingham from Auburn when I was in college to see them open for Nirvana (stupid! stupid!).

But, its not so bad as all that, we still have the VH1Storytellers episode to look forward to.

Apparently, the fat lady has yet to sing. Supreme Court grants Gore appeal. Is this the end? No, but at least Al has taken one foot out of the grave.

No election newslessness today. I am officially tired of the whole thing (and am considering never listening to NPR again after what I had to listen to today from Andy Frume [double bastard], who had the temerity and down-right republicanism {although I know that’s not fair to say} to suggest that the Democratic lawyers in Walker and Seminole counties are the ones to blame for this most recent chapter of the saga; as if the fact that… Oh, wait, I wasn’t going to do this today…right), and will therefore avoid discussion of it.

There has been an awful lot of talk about death around my office lately. My boss’s best friend is in the end stages of cancer, and could die any day now. My secretary and I were discussing her own parent’s deaths several years ago, and the difficulties they had about nursing homes (they got lucky and had family and friends who could help out while everyone was working, so no nursing homes) and just the process of losing your mother and father. Yikes. I am thankful that my parents are so young, and pray that I won’t have to deal with this sort of thing for a long, long time.

In other news, I witnessed something completely disgusting yesterday, and I feel compelled to share. I had to facilitate a planning session for a credit union in North Alabama, in Decatur. Not exactly a metropolis, but not exactly a small town, either. Anyway, I went to what I can only describe as the Holiday Inn From Hell.

Really, I felt like I was in a Stephen King novel the whole time, I just couldn’t figure out which one, so I was freaking out wondering how I was going to die. Not that anything bad happened, or that the staff was mean or anything like that, there was just a feeling, a foreboding about the place; it was gloomy, poor lighting, waaaay out worst-of-the-50’s-architecture-with-an-update-in-the-worst-of-the-70’s…you get the picture. Yuck.

Anyway, while I was there, I had to use the restroom, so I go in, use the restroom, and walk to the sink to wash my hands. Now, there was a group at the hotel from Briggs and Stratton, they (I think) manufacture and repair machine parts. So there was a group of 200 machinists down the hall from us. One of them walkes up next to me to was his hands. Now, I’m already freaked out about this place, so I’m not looking at other people or making any kind of eye contact.

I’m just washing my hands; when I hear this wet kind of pop sound, like when a suction cup is released. Without thinking, I turn, and this ancient old man in overalls is cleaning his teeth in the sink. His false teeth. All of them. Two sets of gums, two sets of teeth. And he was going that chewing motion with his mouth, like a cow.

So, you say, that’s not so bad, lots of people have false teeth, and most have the decency not to clean them in public restrooms. And, besides, your post is starting to sound like agism.

It is not agism. I like old people, I plan to become one. Just not like this guy. And, it gets better. He started spitting. Not the excuse-me-I’m-having-a-bad-phlegm-day kind, but the long-sticky I’ve-been-chewing-tobacco-and-mucus-four-hours kind. He’s spitting. On his hands, and on his teeth.

I stopped washing my hands, and I left.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Compassionate Conservatism.