Book Review: The Kite Runner

Amir and Hassan are best friends in Afghanistan during the late-1960's and early-1970's, or as best of friends as the culture will allow. Amir is Pashtun and a Sunni; Hassan is a Hazara and a Shi'a. Amir lives in a big house and goes to school. Hassan lives in a mud hut and is the son of Ali--the servant of Amir's father, Baba.

Both boys are motherless and were nursed "from the same breast" (the same wet nurse), which makes them, according to Ali, closer than brothers.

Hassan is also the best kite runner in Kabul--he chases down the kites cut free during the kite fighting competition, which is nearly a national sport in Afghanistan. Hassan has an uncanny ability to determine where the kite will ultimately end up and is there waiting for it.

More than anything, Amir wants his father's love. Unfortunately Amir takes after his mother: sensitive, poetic, thoughtful. Baba would prefer a son more like himself: athletic, strong, sure of himself. Baba's friend and business partner, Rahim Khan, is often the only one who can bridge the gap between father and son.

Harder for Amir to accept is the fondness Baba often shows to Hassan, which includes providing the surgery necessary to repair Hassan's harelip. Amir's jealousy cause him to try to provoke Hassan, who tells Amir, "For you, a thousand times over."

Ultimately, though, Amir's jealousy causes Hassan to leave, which means when Baba and Amir flee Afghanistan for America, Hassan and his family are left behind.

Amir and Baba rebuild their lives in America, settling in Fremont, California, where they find a large Afghani population. Baba works at a gas station while Amir goes to high school. On weekends, they comb through garage sales on Saturdays and sell their finds at the San Jose flea market on Sundays. Their lives move forward as Amir continues on to college and falls in love. In traditional Afghani fashion, Baba speaks with her father and the marriage is arranged. Their engagement is not long because Baba has cancer. He lives long enough to see Amir married and settled, but not to see Amir's success as a writer in his adopted homeland.

Life has become comfortable when Amir receives a phone call from Rahim Khan. Rahim is in Pakistan and would like to see Amir.

Rahim Khan is dying. But before he does, there is some information he must pass on to Amir and some decisions Amir must make. In more ways than one, Amir must confront his past.

The author, Dr. Khaled Hosseini, is an emigre from Afghanistan himself and lives in the Bay Area. And so his novel provides an insider's view of Afghani customs, cultures, and prejudices. He, too, was a child when his family fled to America and Amir's memories of Kabul are those of a child, which makes the modern reality of Kabul much more grim.

Ultimately, however, this is a story about individuals and how their actions and decisions echo down through the years. Assumptions and prejudices are confronted--and those most often are internal.

The Kite Runner is an emotionally powerful book and I'm not sure how Dr. Hosseini is going to follow this book. (I kind of hope he writes a different book rather than continuing the story.) There are a lot of themes: relationships between fathers and sons, Truth, prejudice, tradition, literature, God and religion. I raced to the ending, then went back and read it more leisurely so I could enjoy the impressions of a part of the world I will probably never visit.

On the March Hare Scale: 4.5 out of 5 Golden Bookmarks

Book Review: Going Postal

This is the second book I've read in Terry Pratchett's Discworld series and, like Carpe Jugulum, it's a stand-alone story.

Alfred Spangler is a con artist who has been caught, tried, and convicted. He is duly hung. When he wakes up, however, he is not in Heaven nor in Hell, but in the office of Lord Havelock Vetinari, despot and tyrant of the country of Ankh-Morpork. And Lord Vetinari knows Alfred's real name: Moist von Lipwig. Turns out Mr. von Lipwig has been hung, quite literally, within an inch of his life.

Lord Vetinari has a proposal for Moist: he can become the Postmaster of Ankh-Morpork or he can walk out the door. The door, Moist discovers, leads to a room where the floor is several hundred feet below the one where he is currently standing. Moist decides to take the Postmaster job.

What Moist doesn't know is that the mail hasn't been sent in about 20 years. Mail and packages fill the rooms of the Post Office because Junior Postman Groat won't allow any mail to be discarded. Mr. Groat and his assistant, Stanley, live in what once was the locker room of the Post Office. Mr. Groat remembers the glory days of post office, when mail was moved efficiently, chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and a great golden statue of a winged god dominated the lobby. Mr. Groat doesn't think Moist will have any better luck restoring the Postal Service than his predecessors did--four of them in the last five months.

When faced with this Augean task, Moist does what any reasonable person would do--he runs away. He uses a cache of cash, stored under another alias, buys a horse and is off. Several horse trades later, and Moist is well outside the city limits of Ankh-Morpork. That night, however, is his rudely awaken by a golem by the name of Mr. Pump. Seems golems don't sleep, don't eat, and don't give up. He carries Moist and the horse back to Ankh-Morpork and Moist resigns himself to being Postmaster and dealing with the mess.

Meanwhile, there are the "clackers"--basically semaphore towers that send messages, either by visual signals or lights, across town or across countries. What took days or weeks to send by post can be sent in hours. The clackers were an invention of some clever engineers who were not particularly savvy businessmen. After a few years, the engineers found themselves eased out of their business and the savvy businessmen took over. The businessmen enjoy their monopoly on communication, along with the high rates they charge and the fact that the clackers are often out of commission. After all, what alternative does the populace have--the Postal Service?

The smarter among them realize that, yes, Lord Vetinari is serious about reinstating the Postal Service. And they realize that this challenge cannot go unanswered. And someone is sabotaging their signalling equipment. But who? And why?

Moist, who now understands the persistence of golems, goes off to hire some and meets Miss Dearheart. He cannot charm her and that intrigues him. Moist also discovers that the Post Office is not always what it seems to be--or when. (This is Discworld, after all.)

Does Moist use his talents for good instead of evil? Do the evil business owners of the Grand Trunk Clacker get their comeuppance? Has Lord Vetinari met his equal in Mr. Gilt? Does Moist ever date Miss Dearheart?

Read the book and find out.

Warning: Terry Pratchett is British and this book is full of British humor. What that means is there is usually quite a set-up to his jokes. If you laugh out loud, you'll have a difficult time explaining why to those around you.

I enjoyed this book more that Carpe Jugulum, perhaps because I was more familiar with Discworld or perhaps because this story was really more about Moist von Litwig and I came to like him. A lot. While there are supernatural elements in the story, Going Postal is really more about one man and how he is able to make a difference.

On the March Hare scale: 4 out 5 Golden Bookmarks

Weekend Jokes

Courtesy of Suzanne from California Stampin' & Scrapbooks:

Patient: "Doctor, I hear all kinds of animals talking in my head."
Doctor: "Don't worry, you're just having Disney spells."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^<

A psychiatrist's secretary walks into his office and says, "There's a gentleman in the waiting room asking to see you. Claims he's invisible."

The psychiatrist responds, "Tell him I can't see him."

Parental Statements

DD#2 has decided she would like to attend one of the Catholic high schools in our area. She's actually applying to two of them, but really wants to go to the one that's the most geographically inconvenient.

Of course!

Whether she actually goes is another matter, mostly financial. But we'll apply for aid and leave the rest in the hands of God.

Meanwhile, I'm writing up the Parental Statements, since Hubs is not good at these things. Both schools want to know what I expect from them in the areas of academic preparation, co-curricular activities, and religious preparation. One school combines all three areas and gives me about five lines to answer. They go on to ask questions about any special circumstances surrounding my daughter and what she's like. For the other school, each of the three questions gets a third of the page. Plus I have to write a letter of recommendation for my daughter.

What I want is for my daughter to capture something of the experience I had attending a Catholic high school: the opportunity to really study the foundations of the Catholic Church, to live as a Catholic during the week as well as just on Sunday, to keep questioning and (hopefully) to have someone who can answer those questions.

In my case, there was also a sense of sharing an experience. Most of us recognized each other by face and name when we graduated. We had spent four years going from dorky freshmen to young womanhood. We were challenged daily to learn more, to do more, to give it our best effort. Not everything we learned came from textbooks and not everything was on the approved curriculum.

Not everyone had a positive experience. Talking with former classmates, I'm surprised to see how different high school was for each of us. And while I was not a pariah, I was not one of the "popular" crowd. (It's funny to see that DS#2 occupies the same social zone. He has friends who are brains, friends who are jocks, friends who are geeks, friends who are nerds, friends who are in leadership. He also seems to find those who are active in Boy Scouts--and a few Girl Scouts.)

The difficulty is, of course, how to capture that in a concise, coherent statement!

Book Review: Carpe Jugulum

Julie D. over at Happy Catholic had been posting selected quotes from this book for weeks. Since I'm a sucker for a clever title, I had to check it out.

Carpe Jugulum takes place in Discworld, a flat world held up by four elephants resting on the back of a giant turtle. Why? Because it's Terry Pratchett's world and he can pretty much write it any way he likes it!

I had never read a Discworld novel before and, I'm happy to say, that lack didn't seem to matter. Mr. Pratchett's humor is of the British sort--think of it is as kind of a written Monty Python sketch. If you're willing to jump right in and go along with things, you'll enjoy it. If you need sensible explanations, well, you're not going to get them.

The King and Queen of Lancre, one of the countries on Discworld, are having a Naming Ceremony for their new daughter. The King, not wishing to offend anyone important, has invited everyone on Discworld, including the Count and Countess of Uberwald. Who happen to be vampires. The Count--a rather modern, forward-thinking vampire--excuse me, vampyre--has decided that he should rule Lancre. So he takes it over in a bloodless coup by controlling the King's mind.

Fortunately, there are witches in Lancre. One, Granny Weatherwax, is not present as her invitation was stolen by magpies. One is the Queen, who "gave up" witchcraft when she married. The remaining two are Nanny Ogg, related to most of the population of Lancre, and Agnes, who is of two minds about everything because there really is another personality (Perdita) inside her.

Granny, thinking she had not been invited, leaves her cottage and goes out to the moors, which is gnarly ground. Nanny Ogg, not happy at being the "crone" in the witches coven (crone, mother, maiden), tries to roust the vampires from the castle. But these vampires have desensitized themselves from all the normal tricks that can be used to get rid of vampires. So Nanny and the Queen set off to find Granny.

Agnes, meanwhile, is left to distract the vampires in the castle. The son of the Count has taken an interest in Agnes because he cannot control her mind. What he doesn't realize is that he can control Agnes, but he can't control Perdita.

And then there is Mightily Oats, a priest of Om, who is unsure of his faith, especially since it seems to be fracturing into different denominations daily.

Other characters who play important roles are a phoenix, Igor (servant to the vampires and who misses the Old Count and the Old Ways), and the "Pictsies" (Pixies) who are fierce and vaguely-celtic.

"Carpe Jugulum" means, of course, seize the jugular, and is the family motto of the vampires.

There be magic in Discworld, but it is not used much. The witches seem rather normal, really, relying more on their wits to rid Lancre of vampires than any magic potions. There is much discussion about "what everybody knows who knows anything about {fill in the blank}." "What everybody knows" usually turns out to be mistaken. Discussions about good vs. evil, the nature of sin, belief and faith are scattered throughout the novel. The novel ends with some questions that may--or may not--be answered in subsequent novels. Afterall, this is not a "straight line" series.

But it is a fun read if you're ready to pop through the Rabbit Hole.

On the March Hare scale: Three out of five Golden Bookmarks.

Even the Sanctuary Is Not Safe

Okay, this is really disturbing: a man walks into a church on Friday night and sets fire to the Christmas tree and Nativity scene. At least he gave the choir, who were rehearsing, warning to get out.

St. Cornelius is across the street from the Civic Center, in the flatlands of Richmond, CA. Most of the parishioners are low income; many are Hispanic. It's located in a tough neighborhood--parents or grandparents often walk their children to school, crossing several busy streets.

The Catholic school is next door to the church and has a gym where my kids played frequently in CYO volleyball and basketball games.

And, oddly, no one mentioned it at the volleyball tournament held at the Catholic School just down the freeway or at Mass on Sunday, where our sanctuary was filled with Christmas trees and a large Nativity scene. The group of parishes clustered around I-80 are fairly close knit and word usually travels quickly when something happens.

I'm glad no one was hurt and that the police were able to capture the man responsible.
Odd that he would wait until almost Epiphany to attack--a couple of days and the trees and Nativity would have been gone. Most of the damage seems to be smoke and water damage, rather than structural. Still, it's going to require some clean-up.

Please keep the parish in your prayers.

(H/T: See-Dubya at Michelle Malkin's website)

The Quiet Resurrection

It occurred to me this morning that while the birth of Christ was heralded by angels and a star, the Resurrection--a much bigger deal--was quiet. The women came to the tomb and saw an angel sitting there. No songs. No star. Just a person speaking quietly.

When Jesus died, there was a huge storm, possibly an eclipse of the sun, as well as an earthquake. When He rose there was--nothing. No change in the weather. No righting of the Temple. In fact, Jesus didn't even present Himself to Pilate or to the Pharisees and Sadducees to demonstrate His power over Death.

Many arguments and disputes would have been forestalled, if He had. There would have been less room for doubt.

Perhaps that's why Jesus rose quietly and showed himself to those who already believed. In John 20:29, Jesus tell Thomas, "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." We are free to believe or not. Pilate had condemned a man he knew to be innocent for political expediency. Did he hear rumors that this man had risen from the dead? Did he dismiss the rumors? Or did he worry, in some secret corner of his soul, that these rumors may be true? Did some of the answers Jesus gave him begin to make sense?

Forty days later, Jesus was gone. Ten days after that, His Apostles and Disciples came out to the marketplace and began preaching--and everyone who heard them understood what they were saying: "Utterly amazed, they asked: 'Are not all these men who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in his own native language? Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism), Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!' Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, 'What does this mean?'" (Acts 2:7-12).

And we are still asking "What does this mean?" some 2000 years later. The story of Jesus has "legs," despite the lack of publicity, despite the lack of verification by the government or by a religious authority or by a phenomenological expert.

LINOS: Libbers In Name Only

The local news was filled with stories about Rep. Nancy Pelosi and her historic "shattering" of the Capitol Ceiling by become the First Female Speaker of the House.

(Hubs' reaction: "Aren't all women Speakers of the House? And of the Car and the Store and..." He couldn't go on because I poked him. In a particularly male sensitive spot.)

This particular newscast featured comments from Senator Feinstein, a fellow San Franciscan of Speaker Pelosi's. (Sen. Boxer, it must be noted, is from Marin.)

Sen. Feinstein noted Speaker Pelosi's many years in Congress and noted how young she was when she started.

"Fortunately, Nancy's husband has done well," Sen. Feinstein said. "Nancy didn't have to worry about money."

Sen. Feinstein then went on to say (and I'm paraphrasing) that in her family, "...my husband's job is to earn the money and I spend it. It works for me. It works for Nancy, too." And then she laughs.

So, these two liberal and liberated women have traditional marriages: hubby earns while wifey spends and, essentially, runs around the country playing Lady Bountiful.

And Sen. Feinstein mentions that Mr. Pelosi has made his money (and continues to make it) by old-fashioned capitalistic means: he invests it.

Hmmm....

I guess it's easy to be empowered when you're using someone else's money.

A Titanic Tragedy

Last Friday we saw the exhibit of artifacts brought up from the Titanic. The exhibit was well done as well as emotionally affecting, for the curators focused as much on the passengers of the Titanic as they did on the physical items of the ship.

We were handed a "boarding pass" when we entered the exhibit. On one side was a facsimile of the White Star Line's pass. On the other was our name, our port of embarkation, and a brief biography. I was May Peel, a well-known novelist, returning from Europe with her novelist husband, Jacques Futrelle, who had just signed several book contracts. We were traveling in First Class. Hubs, on the other hand, was a Danish immigrant, relocating to Detroit with his wife and six children to work as a machinist. Originally scheduled to sail on another ship, a coal strike delayed their sailing. White Star Line offered them passage on Titanic and they took it. Third Class on Titanic cost more, but the accommodations and food were superior to those of other lines. In fact, Titantic's Second Class was as good as First Class on many other lines.

Besides passengers, Titanic carried a good deal of commercial cargo. Their freight rates were higher, but because the ship was considered unsinkable, the marine insurance costs were lower. Some of the cargo included automobiles, perfume samples, clothing samples, and art work. The RMS before Titanic's name indicated she was a "Royal Mail Steamer," and postal clerks were busy all voyage sorting letters loaded in Southampton, Cherbourg, and Queenstown, Ireland.

The exhibit began with the construction of Titanic and her sister ship, Olympic. Much care and thought were put into the design of these two ships, including such safety features as a double-walled hull and water-tight compartments. They were designed to be able to make port even if four compartments were flooded.

In order to get the ship built on time, hydraulic riveting was used, although riveting was done by hand, using teams of two men and two boys, in smaller spaces. She had four steam whistles, although two were dummies--only the two on the two front funnels worked. Her engines were huge and consumed an enormous amount of coal. She carried twenty lifeboats--although she was designed to carry more, some were removed to provide more promenade space for the First Class passengers. Still, the twenty lifeboats were more than what was required at the time by either Britain or the U.S.

Titanic was designed so that the passengers never mingled with nor saw much of the crew. They had separate dining rooms and sleeping quarters which they reached by their own passageways. Still, being a steward or a maid on a White Star Line ship was considered a good job. The engine room was hot and dirty, but the men who worked there were a proud bunch.

Much attention was paid to detail, from the artwork on the walls to the Grand Staircase to the design of the Smoking Lounge for men and the Sitting Room for ladies. Children were welcome and the Verandah Cafe was designed with a tile floor where the children could play games. In fact, one family, emigrating from France to Haiti, changed their passage from the France to the Titanic because of the restrictions the France placed on children.

The exhibit uses quotes from passengers, crew, and those involved in designing and building the Titanic to provide context for the events. Some were worried that declaring a ship "unsinkable" was insulting God and had a bad feeling. Others saw the Titanic as an incredible feat of modern engineering and science.

None of them thought about the human factor.

Because of the coal strike, the Titanic left Southampton a bit earlier than planned. The binoculars for the crow's nest were either misplaced or never brought on board. (Why this wasn't noticed when the ship left Southampton and the binoculars replaced in Cherbourg or Queenstown is not mentioned.) Would the binoculars have allowed the two lookouts to spot the iceberg earlier, allowing the Titanic to complete its turn in time to avoid it?

Many of the crew survived, mostly because they were manning the lifeboats. Their accounts of the events of that night are heart-wrenching. There is a block of ice that visitors are encouraged to touch--and then we are told that the water was much colder because of the lower freezing point of salt water. Most people died of hypothermia, not drowning.

And then there is the list of names. There are four categories: First Class, Second Class, Third Class, and Crew. Those categories are divided into those who survived and those who did not. Most First Class passengers survived, as did the crew. Most Third Class passengers perished, including entire families.

There are some notable heroes. John Jacob Astor put his pregnant wife in a lifeboat, but did not join her. Isidore Straus, owner of Macy's Department store, urged his wife to get into a lifeboat and she refused, stating that they would die as they had lived: together. Margaret Brown, immortalized as "Molly" on stage and film, took over her lifeboat when the crewman on board had a mental breakdown and encouraged the other passengers to row. Several children were placed in lifeboats, separated from their parents. Women in the lifeboats took these children under their wing and, in some cases, ended up adopting them.

The last part of the exhibit was the search for and discovery of Titanic. They showed pictures of what they found, including a complete set of dishes, lying unbroken in neat rows on the ocean floor. The cabinet that had stored them had rotted away around them. There is a 15-foot section of the hull and a piece we could touch. There were explanations of the science involved in preserving the paper, the leather, the porcelain, the metal that has survived. There is a discussion of the latest danger to the Titanic: iron-eating microbes that are turning the steel back into basic iron ore.

All told, it took me two hours to go through the exhibit--but I read and looked at everything. (Hubs, who has been to several museums with me, is used to this and found a bench. DS#2 has not had as much experience as Hubs. When I got to the end, he said, "Finally!")

As it had in the film, what affected me most were the stories of the passengers, especially those in Third Class. They were coming to America, full of hope and dreams, carrying the tools of their trade. They were meeting their brothers and sisters, their aunts and uncles. One Second Class passenger was a priest, coming to New York to preside at the wedding of his brother. He stayed behind, giving comfort and praying.

And the children--there were so many! I think that's what surprised me the most. All those hopes and dreams, the parents sacrificing surety for the promise of a new and better life--gone.

The Titanic exhibit is coming to other venues. Check out their website, http://www.rmstitanic.net/, for venues, dates, and more information.

On the March Hare scale: 4.5 out of 5 Golden Boarding Passes

Ta-Da! The Final Stationery Set

The following cards were my Christmas gift to my cousins, sisters, in-laws, outlaws, and friends. In exchange, I received homemade goodies and teas--a fair trade, since I don't bake!

In all, I made about 25 sets, and I ended up with a couple of sets for myself. Once I come up with a design, I do the rest as an "assembly line" and I can do one set in about an hour or two. Every card has an envelope with an accent that follows the theme.

My only "rule" is that the cards are used. The record for turnaround is the year Sis#2 got her set the night of Christmas Eve and used one as a birthday card for our mom--Christmas night.

I can't remember how long I've been doing this now. DD#2 thinks it's at least ten years. (She could be right.) And everyone still is excited to receive them at our annual Christmas Eve party.

They made with rubber stamps card stock. Vellum and handmade paper was used as accents on some of the cards. Some images were embossed using powder while Pearl Ex or Perfect Pearls (basically pigment powder) was used on the others.

One of them is a goof that I was able to salvage, sort of. I stamped the initial upside down. I stamped it again the right way and it made kind of an interesting design. DD#1 thought it was cool and suggested I do all the initial cards that way, but I didn't want to tempt fate!

If you're interested, e-mail me (march.hare@comcast.net) for more details.

New Year's Resolutions

One of the best things about being a Catholic is that we have lots of chances to make resolutions, with Advent and Lent being the best known. Plus we have the traditional New Year. And the Tuesday after Labor Day, the Official Start of the School Year--although that's been creeping into the middle of August around here.

My Resolutions don't change radically from year to year or from Season to Season. What does change is that I have become more specific about the actions I will take to achieve my goals.

So, in no particular order, here are my Resolutions for 2007:

*Get back to my Goal Weight. (If you've ever done Weight Watchers, you'll know what I mean!)

*Do one set of Christmas Gift stationery each month so I'll be done by December 1.

*Send out Special Occasion cards on time!
*Use some of the paper/stamps/embellishments/ink/envelopes I've been hoarding. Scan the cards and then send them!

*And the big one for this year: have the house clean enough to host DD#2's 8th Grade Graduation party (for the family, anyway). This involves many, many sub-categories, such as clearing out much junk that seems to accumulate.
*Donate at least one bag of used clothes or goods to Goodwill/St. Vincent de Paul/ or other charities each month. Donating uniforms to the school Uniform Bank will also count!
*Go through all the Cub Scout stuff that I have and donate it to the Pack. DS#2 has been in Boy Scouts now for five years. It's time to go through all the stuff I accumulated as a Den Leader and Pass It On.
*Same with the Brownie Girl Scout stuff. Although some of that I can take to Japan.

*Write more. Whine less.

Who Are We Rooting For Again?

Hubs and I have a few rules about Who We Root For:

1.) Cal (college) or 49'ers (pro)
2.) Bay Area teams (even the Raiders)
3.) California teams
4.) West Coast teams (or Pac-10 teams)
5.) Western teams
6.) Underdogs

There are exceptions to the above. For example, we root for Notre Dame over USC. If a relative lives in the state, often we'll root for their home team.

Our choices often confuse The Children--at least, they confused DD#2. She understood why we rooted for Cal. She sort of understood why we rooted for UCLA. But the Rose Bowl? We rooted for USC, even though we hate USC and Michigan wears blue & gold. (Okay, I wanted SC to win, but I also wanted a close game.)

And then we rooted for the Broncos last night--although we had rooted against them on Sunday. (Did anyone else notice that the school colors and mascot for Boise State looks a lot like the pro team from Denver?) Boise State was the clear underdog and Oklahoma didn't take them seriously. We also rooted for West Virginia, Auburn, and Wisconsin because we thought they were the underdogs. The games were close and didn't disappoint.

Well, maybe the Emerald Bowl did.

DS#2 wanted to go visit a friend's house. A reasonable request--except that it came during the middle of the Rose Bowl. The Rose Bowl! As any reasonable person who follows football living on the West Coast knows, The Rose Bowl is the New Year's Day game. Especially for alumni of schools that haven't been there in, say, 40 years.

But the Fiesta Bowl had it all: David (Boise State) and Goliath (Oklahoma). Smash mouth, hard-hitting football. A young coach who had paid his dues coming up through the system. A revered former coach sitting in the box. The governor who moved his inauguration up in order to catch a flight to Phoenix to watch the game. A school with a lot of tradition and swagger. A couple of tricky plays. The hero of the game throwing the ball to father sitting in the stands and then proposing to his cheerleader girlfriend on national T.V. (As the quarterback said, "It wouldn't have been quite so romantic if we had lost.")

Will the National Championship Game next Monday be as exciting? Will it mean any more to the fans or the team?

Will the Superbowl?

On the Second Day of Christmas...

Over the years, I have tried to persuade Hubs of the wisdom of celebrating Christmas over 12 days. According to my calendar, I still have time to send out Christmas cards and those last few gifts that just didn't seem to get mailed in time.

He's still not buying it.

The gifts for his parents and his siblings were mailed overnight. They are short some of the stationery I was making because I just plain ran out of time. (DD#1 had a brilliant suggestion: I should make one "batch" every month. Then I'd be done by October!)

DD#1 and DD#2 helped me find Christmas gifts and birthday gifts for my mother. Her birthday is December 26, but we celebrate it Christmas night. And we found some great gifts for Hubs, who really only ever wants one gift and that my mother gives him (it's a fishing license for next year).

Several recipients of the stationery have told me they think this year's set is the best one yet. I'll have to take their word for it. I've looked at them so long, all I see is the flaws!

We missed all the San Francisco traffic on Christmas Eve because DS#1 was smart enough to check traffic conditions before we left and find an alternate route.

Hubs grumbled that 10:30 a.m. Mass on Christmas Day would put a crimp in our morning present opening. It didn't. I had to wake everyone up. I was a lector and got to read Isaiah: "How beautiful upon the mountains, the feet of him who brings glad tidings!" DD#2 was an altar server. The "senior" altar server, as it turned out--the other three were 4th Graders who have just begun serving. Hubs and DS#2 were tapped to help with the collection basket. DS#1 made it to Mass, but ended up sitting in the back of the church.

DD#2 got a great Cal sweatshirt. Fortunately, I don't have to steal hers because I got one, too! We found a great pictoral history of the Marine Corps that came with Marine Corps toys! The helicopter is not the one Hubs worked on, but he was able to find a picture of one in the book.

DD#1 got a sewing machine that works. DD#2 got a bike. There is some debate whether it's a men's bike or a women's, but she likes it anyway. Unfortunately, it poured yesterday, so she hasn't been able to ride it.

The boys were rather puzzled by their gifts: bed pillows. My excuse: "But it was on your list!" DS#1 has become rather fond of tea lately, so we found a cup with a tea infuser that he liked. He also got a "Game Card," that buys time for his favorite online video game.

DS#2 got clothes, a tiki torch (?), and tiki oil. Apparently he had requested them. At least, according to his siblings he did. He also got an erector set because he needed a toy.

I got luggage--with wheels!--so I can run away from home more easily.

Okay, it's for my trip this summer to Japan with the Girl Scouts. DD#2 has the same one. We try to buy matching luggage as a group to make it easier to identify.

I also received the complete works of Lewis Carroll. While I have read both Alice books (obviously), I've never read his other stories and poems. I'm looking forward to reading The Hunting of the Snark and Sylvie and Bruno.

Still, the best part was getting together with my extended family and having my immediate family home for two days. And I got to hold the newest baby as much as I wanted, under the guise of "giving his mother a break." Since my kids also held him--and walked him and bounced him--quite a bit, I'm hoping this will serve as a "Reality Check" about parenthood. Just a teensy bit.

I hope your Christmas was as successful as mine. What neat presents did you receive?

Bowl Game Theory

Tonight the University of California Los Angeles Bruins are playing the Florida State University Seminoles at AT&T Park (aka Pac Bell Park or the House that Barry Built). Tomorrow night, the University of California, Berkeley, Bears are playing the Texas A&M Aggies in San Diego.

Had the Bears played at AT&T Park and the Bruins played in San Diego, more alumni from those schools would have attended. In fact, it would have been like a home game for those two teams. Instead it's a 10-hour drive to San Diego from the Bay Area and an 8-hour drive to the Bay Area from the Los Angeles area.

I wonder if either game is sold out? If not, they could have been.

Of course, if Cal had gone to Pasadena, I wouldn't be wondering about this at all!

And a "Happy Holidays to You, Too!"

Sometimes I think we Christians protest too much. Like all this fuss over "Happy Holidays" versus "Merry Christmas."

Frankly, either one is so much better than "Yo, B----! Get outta the way!" Or "Eat s--- and die!"

Right?

What Kind of Christmas Tree Am I?

Okay, I admit it. I'm copping out of writing serious entries because, well, it's the week before Christmas and I am nowhere close to being ready for it. My customers must feel the same way because I'm receiving a lot of phone calls that have a tone of urgency about them...

You Are a Traditional Christmas Tree

For a good Christmas, you don't have to re-invent the wheel. You already have traditions, foods, and special things you bring out every year.

What Christmas Tree Are You?

(H/T: Julie D. over at Happy Catholic, a sister Traditional Tree!)

What Kind of Sports Car Am I?

I'm a Chevrolet Corvette!

You're a classic - powerful, athletic, and competitive. You're all about winning the race and getting the job done. While you have a practical everyday side, you get wild when anyone pushes your pedal. You hate to lose, but you hardly ever do.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Which is very reassuring, especially as I'm stuck in full-blown, pre-Christmas Mom mode.

(H/T: The Anchoress and Julie D. at Happy Catholic)

What Kind of Christmas Ornament Am I?

You Are a Snowman

Friendly and fun, you enjoy bringing holiday cheer to everyone you know!

What Christmas Ornament Are You?

Well, it's been cold enough around here for snow. I'm glad I bring fun to everyone I know. I've been feeling kind of Scrooge-ish right now!

(h/t: Julie D., Happy Catholic)

Arguing with Platitudes on Posters

While running around during lunch, I saw a poster that said, "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

Is it?

I'm not so sure. Straight knowledge, with no imagination, is rather dull. But imagination with no knowledge is really useless. Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak imagined a world where everyone had access to a personal computer--but without the knowledge of electronics (and physics and math and computer science), they would not have been able to build one and write the programming necessary.

There's probably some ideal combination of knowledge and imagination required to do great things. But to say one is more important than the other seems, on the face of it, rather absurd. And, yet, how many people will see that poster, read the platitude and say, "Oh, of course!" Then add it to their repertoire of Cliches for Suitable Occasions.

Remembering Peter Boyle

Peter Boyle was one of those character actors that turned up on TV or in movies pretty regularly and Hubs and I would say, "It's Frankenstein!" Okay, so really he was Frankenstein's monster, but we knew the difference.

So when he appeared in X-Files in the episode titled "Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose" I was interested in what his character would be.

I didn't expect to be moved to tears.

Mr. Boyle won an Emmy for his portrayal of Clyde Bruckman and deservedly so. His Clyde, a man with a gift that he definitely did not want, was quiet, understated, and powerful. I cared about Clyde and felt immensely sorry for his burden. The conclusion of the story was inevitable. I knew it. And I cried.

I've long had a pet theory (one of several, but I digress) that comics are often better actors than those who specialize in drama because being believable in comedy is so much harder. The talents of many comedians are often underrated, so they don't often get meaty roles. (I also think it's harder to write good comedy as well. So the two may be related. And I'm not referring to comic sketches, by the way.) Mr. Boyle showed what he was capable of in the role of Clyde Bruckman and for that I thank him. I also thank Chris Carter, the executive producer, and whomever else was responsible for hiring Peter Boyle for this episode.

Several of the tributes to Mr. Boyle have mentioned that he was a monk before becoming an actor. I didn't know that, but I'm not surprised. There's a kind of stillness in him, a quiet center, a steadiness that's evident in his character of Clyde Bruckman, but can also be seen in his portrayal of the monster in Young Frankenstein and as the dad in While You Were Sleeping. He seemed comfortable with himself even when--maybe because--he was playing just an ordinary, blue-collar guy. He wasn't, really. I mean, how many people had John Lennon as the Best Man at their wedding?

I'm going to miss seeing him pop up in movies and on TV when I least expected it.

Christmas Madness

I am not ready for Christmas this year. I would have to take all next week off and I still wouldn't be ready.

Hubs bought the tree last weekend. The lights were found--they were in the only box that was actually put away last year (the other boxes were scattered throughout the garage).

The Advent Calendar is up but the Advent Wreath is not.

The boxes with ornaments and the table decorations are in the family room with the tree. I managed to watch three of my favorite movies last Sunday: A Christmas Carol, with Alistair Sim, Miracle on 34th Street, with Natalie Wood, and A Muppet Christmas Carol, with Michael Caine, Kermit, et al. I was working on the 25 sets of stationery that I will hand out to my cousins, sisters, SILs, and close friends on Christmas Eve. This is what I do instead of baking. Doesn't smell as nice, unfortunately, and it takes over all available flat surfaces. But I made a deal with my family--as long as they use it, I'll keep making it. (I hate to see the cards not shared!) The quickest turnaround was the year that Sis#2 used a card I had given her on Christmas Eve for our mom's birthday card--which we celebrate on Christmas evening. (Her birthday is actually the 26th.)

This year we have family pictures and Christmas cards with the kids' picture on them. They may get out by Epiphany--which is the 12th day of Christmas, right?

Hubs, who comes from a family that has all their Christmas shopping done and cards out no later than Dec. 1st, just shakes his head. He has learned over the years not to say anything. Besides, we have obligations closer to home, including the annual school Christmas pageant.

Hard to believe that this will be our last one, after 16 years. DD#2 is a narrator, as the faculty has learned over the years not to ask the 8th Graders to sing. However, the 8th Grade does a grand job with speaking parts and handling the technical parts (lights and sound). Let them dress in black and fade into the background. No one "oohs" and "aahs" over gawky teens--not like they do over the Kindergarteners and First Graders. (Which reminds me, DD#2 wants to wear tights. And she probably needs black shoes, since her feet are too big to wear mine and too small to wear DD#1's. And she'll probably want heels. I am so not ready for this!)

And everyone wants to party. How can we not get together with friends, with co-workers, with family? How can we not let DS#2 go to his Winter Ball or DD#2 go to her "Holly-Day" dance?

One of these years, I told a friend, I'm just going to do all the neat holiday activities and forgo the Christmas shopping and decorating. I'm going to do the "Sing-Along Messiah" and all the public tree lightings and drive around and marvel over everyone else's house lights. I'm going to see as many versions of The Nutcracker Ballet and A Christmas Carol as I can. I'm going to drink hot chocolate and watch all the Christmas specials that I can find on TV. I may hang a wreath on the door. Then again, I may not.

I probably won't be able to get away with this plan until I'm about 80, though, and my kids are so busy establishing traditions with their kids that they won't miss the ones I'm not doing!

Book Review: The Glass Castle

That Jeannette Walls grew up to become an accomplished, competent adult is amazing. That she loves her parents is extraordinary.

Ms. Walls is a contributor to MSNBC and writes regularly about the lives and secrets of celebrities. She is beautiful, articulate, and eloquent. The Glass Castle is a memoir of her life from her earliest memory to shortly after the death of her father.

The book opens with Jeannette living on Park Avenue with her husband. She is on her way to a party and is worried that she is overdressed. Stuck in traffic, she looks out of the window of her taxi and sees her mother rooting in the dumpsters nearby. Worried that her mother might see her and call out her name, Jeannette returns home. Later, she contacts her mother and they meet for lunch at a restaurant. Jeannette confesses that she saw her mother picking through the trash.

"'Well, people in this country are too wasteful. It's my way of recycling.' She took a bite of her Seafood Delight. 'Why didn't you say hello?'

"'I was too ashamed, Mom. I hid.'

"Mom pointed her chopsticks at me. 'You see?' she said. 'Right there. That's exactly what I'm saying. You're way too easily embarrassed. Your father and I are who we are. Accept it.'

"'And what am I supposed to tell people about my parents?'

"'Just tell the truth,' Mom said. 'That's simple enough.'"

And so Jeannette does. Her first memory is her dress catching on fire while she's cooking hot dogs. She is three years old. When the nurses ask why she was cooking, Jeannette explains that she was hungry. Besides, "Mom says I'm mature for my age."

Rex Walls is a brilliant man. He reads books on mathematics for fun. He loves to invent things. He can fix just about anything. He can talk himself into being hired for just about any job. Keeping those jobs, though, is a bit of a problem. As is alcohol.

Rose Mary Walls is a "creative" person. She draws, paints, sculpts, writes. She doesn't drink anything stronger than tea. Her particular addictions are chocolate and excitement. And she's not above creating some when life gets too predictable.

Rex is building "The Prospector," a device that sounds an awful lot like the sluiceboxes the 49'ers used in California. Once perfected, the Walls family will be rolling in gold nuggets and Rex is going to build "The Glass Castle": a mansion made completely out of glass, in the desert that they love.

Rose Mary believes that people worry too much about their children, so she ignores them when they cry. They have to be tough and independent. Rose Mary also makes statements like "It's time I did something for myself... It's time I started living my life for me." She makes those statements in California, in Phoenix, and in West Viriginia.

Neither Rex nor Rose Mary seem to realize they are responsible for the welfare of four children. Electricity is a sometime thing, as is indoor plumbing. Food is erratic--sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not. When the bills pile up too high or Rex has gotten into one too many arguments with the locals, they "skedaddle," leaving most of their belongings behind.

And, yet, they love their children. They read Shakespeare and study the stars. They encourage their children to dream, that the material doesn't matter. Rose Mary is Catholic and the children go to Mass every Sunday, but she also tells them that everyone must come to religion in their own way.

That I didn't see Rex and Rose Mary as monsters is due entirely to the way Jeannette tells her story. We see her parents as she saw them then; only as she grows older does she realize that something is very wrong with her family's way of living. And she is determined to leave.

After I read The Glass Castle, I googled Jeannette Walls to find out more--what her mother and siblings think about the book, what the reaction has been, any other thoughts or insights she's had about her parents' behavior. I recommend that readers do the same after they've read the book.

This book was a fascinating and frustrating read. I wonder if Jeannette and her siblings would have been better off had they been removed from the family. I don't see Rex or Rose Mary as changing their behavior, although Rex might have attempted to kidnap his children back. Because their parents were pretty ineffective parents in the traditional sense, the children learned to rely on themselves and on each other from a very early age. Had they been put into foster care, they would have missed out on that. But what a price they had to pay!

On the March Hare Scale: 4 out of 5 Golden Bookmarks

Another Feast Day, Another Holy Day of Obligation

One of the "problems" with checking out the Many Catholic blogs out there is they never let you forget when there is a Holy Day of Obligation. Kind of like the Good Sisters who nagged us in grammar school--we used to get Holy Days off until they realized that many families were skipping out on the Mass part. If we were at school, we had to go to Mass.

Free will? Not if the Good Sisters had anything to say about it! :)

So last night DD#2 asked me, "Do you ever get a song stuck in your head?"

"All the time," I answered.

"Religious songs?"

"Which one?"

She hummed a few bars. I recognized it almost immediately: "Hail Holy Queen Enthroned Above." The 8th Grade was practicing for today's Mass during school.

I put a reminder on my Outlook calendar at work so I wouldn't forget to go at lunch time. St. Patrick's is an old parish--my grandmother was baptised there in 1898--and the church dates from the early 1910's. It was originally an Irish parish, so the stained glass windows list the counties of Ireland with their patron saints (so that's who St. Finbar is--the patron saint of Cork!). The altar is carved marble, filled with statues and symbols. There are five stained glass windows over the sanctuary: the Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, with St. Patrick in the middle. (Give the Irish some credit for a particular fondness for their favorite saint!).

Over the years, the parish culture has changed. Now Filipino star lanterns, called parols, hang from the lights. (More about Filipino Christmas traditions, including Simbang gabi and misa de gallo here.) A second collection was taken for the victims of the typhoon that recently hit the Luzon province in the Philippine Islands, with a special Mass for them tonight--many of the parishioners have family and friends back in the Islands.

Those of us who gathered to celebrate the noon Mass and to honor Mary and her Immaculate Conception are a mixed bag. We are blue collar, white collar, professional, and homeless. We are clergy, religious, and laity. We represent all the continents of the Catholic Church. We share the Mass in English, but it might not be our first--or even second--language. We are the Church.

No one would know if I didn't make it to Mass today. No one but God would care, frankly. I go to Mass now because it's important to me to do my best to follow the rules of the Church I claim to belong to. And, frankly, because those Good Sisters did manage to instill a sense of responsibility into me all those many years ago and I hate feeling guilty!

Happy St. Nicholas Day!

When I was growing up, St. Nicholas Day was when my mother began decorating the house for Christmas. The tree would come about ten days later--my grandfather kept the German tradition that Santa Claus brought the tree on Christmas Eve, but my mother wasn't crazy enough to do that.

I've always thought there's kind a nice symmetry with having the Christmas season start with St. Nicholas Day and end with the Epiphany on Jan. 6. For the last couple of years I've tried to remember to have the kids leave their shoes either on the hearth or outside their bedroom door and stuff little trinkets in them, mostly as a reminder of their Germanic tradition. (The Advent Calendar is another one. And the tree, of course!)

This year I actually did well, except that I couldn't tell their shoes apart. I found seven shoes outside their door: two from DD#2 and five from DS#2. He didn't mean to leave his shoes out--it just sort of happened. But they were able to figure out whose trinkets were meant for whom anyway.

The Saint Nicholas Center has more information and some great pictures, old and new.

Fausta and The Anchoress have some special memories as well...

The Saint Who Chose Me

Here's my Saint for the year, thanks to Moneybags at A Catholic Life:

James the Lesser

Also known as

Jacobus Minor; James the Younger; James the Just

Memorial

3 May

Profile

Apostle. Cousin of Jesus. Brother of Saint Jude Thaddeus. One of the first to have visions of the risen Christ. First Bishop of Jerusalem.

Having been beaten to death, a club almost immediately became his symbol. This led to his patronage of fullers and pharmacists, both of whom use clubs in their professions.

Like all men of renown, large stories grew up around James. He is reported to have spent so much time in prayer that his knees thickened, and looked like a camel's. Soon after the Crucifixion, James said he would fast until Christ returned; the resurrected Jesus appeared to him, and fixed a meal Himself.

Died

martyred c.62 at Jerusalem by being thrown from a pinnacle of the Temple, then stoned and beaten with clubs, including fuller's mallets, while praying for his attackers

Canonized

Pre-Congregation

Patronage

apothecaries; druggists; dying people; fullers; hatmakers; hatters; milliners; pharmacists; Uruguay

Prayers

Prayer to...

Representation

fuller's club; man holding a book

Images

Gallery of images of Saint James [5 images, 103 kb]

Additional Information

Google Directory
Lives of Illustrious Men, by Saint Jerome
Goffine's Devout Instructions

Writings

canonical Letter of James

So a lesser-known apostle has chosen me. I can't think of why at the moment. I'm not from Uruguay. I'm not a druggist/pharmacist/apothecary. I don't think I'm dying--at least, not imminently. He is holding a book and he did write an Epistle. Could that be the connection?

Guess I'll have to wait and see!

A Great Weekend for College Football

It was a great weekend. Cal beat Stanford but not without a fight. Too bad there weren't more Stanford fans out there to watch it and to cheer the great effort their team made!

The Stanford Band, who has moved from merely obnoxious to truly beyond the pale, was banned from performing at halftime. Meanwhile, the Cal student section took advantage of the fact with some truly clever card stunts. Kind of an old-fashioned way of teasing your opponents in this day of text-messaging, but it still looks really cool.

And then UCLA beat U$C in another tight defensive battle, the kind my dad taught me to love.

It's a good thing I don't have any training sessions scheduled for today--I'm hoarse.

So we're off to the Bowl Games. I know it's not as much money, but I kind of wish that Cal was playing in the Emerald Bowl and not UCLA. I could work half a day and then walk to the stadium.

Instead, Cal is playing in the Holiday Bowl in San Diego. On a Thursday night.

Cal is playing Texas A&M. (The oldest daughter of Julie D. from Happy Catholic is a freshman there.) Which means, much as I like Julie and despite the fact we often think alike, I'm going with Blue & Gold for this matchup!

Pregame is at 4:30 p.m., kickoff is at 5:00 p.m. Pacific Time. Guess I'll be leaving work early!

Update (sort of): DS#2 had to come up with another debate topic for Public Speaking. Of course, he asked me about it this morning as we were getting ready to leave. I suggested he research the controversy around the BCS ranking system and if college football really needs a playoff. (For the record, I'm ag'in it. The players--at least at Cal--are student athletes. They already take a lighter load during the fall semester and then they have practice during the spring and late summer. A playoff system would mean they spent even less time in class than they do now--and playoffs would be held during finals. And, too, what would we argue about during Christmas dinner? Politics? Religion? Yikes!)

A Treat for the Ears

My local classical radio station has a special online Christmas station:

http://kdfc.com/2006/christmas_stream.cfm

It's classical and traditional carols, quite suitable for work or as background music. Never mind, I'm now listening to "White Christmas"--played on violins. Okay, so maybe it's not quite so traditional!

Their sister station has more contemporary Christmas music:

http://koit.com/2006/stream.cfm

It's a little more secular but KOIT is actually broadcasting their Christmas music over the air as well as playing it online.

Both stations are actually advertising this music as Christmas music--not "seasonal" or "holiday" stuff. Give 'em a listen!

Give 'Em the Axe, the Axe, the Axe!

Give 'em the Axe, the Axe, the Axe
Give 'em the Axe, the Axe, the Axe
Give 'em the Axe
Give 'em the Axe
Give 'em the Axe
Where?

Right in the neck, the neck, the neck,
Right in the neck, the neck, the neck,
Right in the neck
Right in the neck
Right in the neck
There!

Every time one of my children has had to write about Family Traditions, they've included our family tradition of Big Game. It started quite simply: my senior year at Cal I bought my mom and my football-afficiando father tickets to the Big Game between Cal and Stanford. After the game, we went out to dinner.

From that humble beginning grew a family tradition that involves my uncle, my cousins, in-laws, friends of the family, and assorted children. We start with a breakfast--which includes California Orange Juice fortified with Vitamin "Ch" (champagne) at the house closest to the stadium, then walk to the game, then back to the house for dinner. Depending on the results, we either celebrate with beer or cry in it. People come for breakfast or join us for dinner. It's potluck and, since my cousins, siblings, and I were all cursed by the same grandmother, there is always enough food.

The Band is always Great, even if the game isn't.

The team with the best record doesn't always win.

The last four seconds are often critical.

Usually the game is played for "bragging rights" in the Bay Area. There are many "mixed" marriages and families. In fact, there are many people who have divided loyalties, as it's not unusual to have an undergraduate degree from one school and a graduate degree from the other. In fact, the faculty often migrates from one school to the other over the course of their careers.

Here's a link to the History of the Axe.

A piece of Big Game lore: Herbert Hoover, then manager of the Stanford football team, forgot to bring the game ball. (At the time, the game was played on neutral ground in San Francisco.) The game was delayed until a football could be located.

This Saturday's game will be played at Memorial Stadium in Berkeley, one of the most scenic stadiums in the country. Behind the stadium is "Tightwad Hill" (they even have their own banner) where people sit on the steep hillside, in the dirt, and watch the game for free.

The stadium was built to commemorate those "Sons of California" who were killed in World War I. It is built over the Hayward fault, using state-of-the-art-at-the-time engineering: built in sections designed to move independently during an earthquake. Must have done a fairly decent job--it's still standing.

Okay. I'll stop now.

Go Bears!

What Kind of Reader Am I?

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Literate Good Citizen
Book Snob
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

No surprise here. Although the table doesn't show the results for each subcategory, I scored very highly in the Obssessive-Compulsive Bookworm category and fairly well in the Literate Good Citizen.

(h/t: The Anchoress)

I'm not a Book Snob--I'll read anything that's printed!

Some Days I Feel Like Job

Today is one of them.

Christmas is right around the corner. Not only does that mean that we have the extra expenses typical of this time of year, we also have a lot of social committments: parties, activities, school dances, finals and midterms. Our money and our schedules are carefully choreographed, practically down to the minute.

On her way to college today, DD#1 was cut off by another car. She slammed on her brakes, lost control, and hit the median guard rail. Thank God, she's okay, although she may be sore and bruised tomorrow, but the car is totaled. Because we bought the car used and because it was a '95, we didn't get comprehensive insurance. Because she was cut off, the other car disappeared and there's no way to track down who it was to try to recover any money.

$4000.00 gone.

But at least she's okay.

I'm not sure what we're going to do. Winter break starts soon and both DD#1 and DS#1 will be on vacation. DD#1 is going to have to learn to drive a stickshift (something we've been putting off) and DS#1 may have to learn to share and take on some of the responsibilities for shuttling his siblings around. And DD#1 is going to have to get up earlier in order to get to class.

Meanwhile, thank God Hubs and I are both employed in decent-paying jobs that we're good in and enjoy. Thank God our children are healthy. That they are intelligent. That they are, for the most part, generous, kind-hearted, and family-centered. We have food on the table, a roof over our heads, and clothes on our backs. We are close to our families and friends. We have animals who give us unconditional love (well, maybe not the cats all the time).

We have a sense of humor. Some day we will laugh about this. Maybe when DD#1 has a daughter and gets a car.

Plus I have my faith.

When I was a child, I wondered if I would Suffer for God, like the martyrs and saints did. I expected some Grand Challenge.

Instead, I'm finding my challenge is more like dying from a thousand paper cuts. My challenge is in living every day, giving up control, trusting Him. And, you know, I hate giving up control.