Wednesday, December 31, 2008

New Years

These seem to be a repeating post factor on my blog.
(I just went back and re-read my previous "new years" posts)

New Years rolls around again. I suddenly get gripped by a terrible panic in my chest. I NEED the sea, I NEED to be out in the gazebo with everyone, I NEED to see some light-brown faces and I NEED to sing my heart out. I NEED to walk down to the dagat and watch the sunrise while the boys do flips and "karate". I NEED to walk back to the house all light-hearted and looking forward to a new year. Laughing at everyone being sleepy-silly, talking with special people about new year resolutions. I NEED to wave goodbye to everyone in the grey light, go inside, clean up and grab a couple hours of sleep. I NEED to wake up and hear some of the boys compare how little they slept and how great they still feel.....

It is interesting how tradition affects one.
It is hard how tradition pulls.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Languagash 2

Even in enlightened people, vulgarities and inferior dialect may invade.

This sad occurrence came upon me while out shopping with my mother. We were coming upon something with repetitive frequency (I forget what and the exact details now), and I commented "Yeah, we <3 getting .....(whatever that was)"

My mother gave me a strange look.

I lol. (actually, I did burst out laughing, but only thought "lol" later)

I thought: "This would make a great blog post!"

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Dies Natalis Solis Invicti

May you have a merry season of "the birth of the unconquered Sun".

That was an ancient Persian/pagan/Roman feast held on December 25th.

Wikipedia is almost shockingly frank in it's coordination of "Christmas" with it's pagan roots.

An interesting note for those who still believe in the "christian Constantine" myth:

Constantine decreed (March 7, 321) dies Solis—day of the sun, "Sunday"—as the Roman day of rest [CJ3.12.2]: "On the venerable day of the Sun let the magistrates and people residing in cities rest, and let all workshops be closed..."

The first mention of celebrating the birthday of Christ was 345 AD--

Christmas was promoted in the Christian East as part of the revival of Catholicism following the death of the pro-Arian Emperor Valens at the Battle of Adrianople in 378. The feast was introduced to Constantinople in 379, and to Antioch in about 380. The feast disappeared after Gregory of Nazianzus resigned as bishop in 381, although it was reintroduced by John Chrysostom in about 400.[5]

The Twelve Days of Christmas end on January 5. December 26 is St. Stephen's Day and January 6 is Feast of Epiphany This period encompasses the major feasts surrounding the birth of Christ. In the Latin Rite, one week after Christmas Day, January 1, has traditionally been the celebration the Feast of the Naming and Circumcision of Christ, but since Vatican II, this feast has been celebrated as the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.

In Colonial America, the Puritans of New England disapproved of Christmas. Celebration was outlawed in Boston from 1659 to 1681.

So, in case you felt like celebrating.....think twice about what it means.

Some links for Saturnalia:
An almost satanic description of how to celebrate Saturnalia.
Specifications on ancient decorations, gift giving, etc, (very similar to Solis Invicti)

Friday, December 12, 2008

My choice, my consequence,
My destiny
Moulded by the hands which created
And love me

My life, my heart to You
Alone belong
Every tremoring, numbered heartbeat
Of my life's song.

At night to You I cry
My heart's desire
Must be You, and You alone, O Lord
Your consuming fire.

Purify me, burn away
All my dross
Let my heart seek and look only for
The foot of Your cross.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008 that thrice....

The not so smooth nor rhythmic order of our day was suddenly broken when the addition of an hour long Patrol Leader meeting at Boy Scouts deducted the same amount of time from our day and the planned events therein.

We made the changes necessary, and I suddenly found myself the only person in the house with Isaiah and the Tasha-nator. Bethany had a meeting to go to, Mother took the boys to Boy Scouts, and the girls went to visit the Library, and Caleb tagged along.

Things were fine.....for the first hour and a half. I played random Gaelic songs (Anuna & Celtic Woman), along with smatterings of Italian and Spanish (Il Divo) and cooked up the tomato sauce for dinner.
Isaiah ran after the cat and puppy.
Tashanator ran from the baby and at the cat.
The Cat ran for it's life on both fronts.

Eventually, the animal began yelping in it's little manipulative puppy-whine. This usually signaled a heavy bladder, so I unceremoniously dropped her outside, at which point she decided not to do her business but meander about the front lawn, and I with no shoes, coat, etc was obliged to chase her down and just as unceremoniously plop her back inside. She was wise enough to become scarce.

Then, Isaiah got fussy, so I read to him and changed his clothes into sleep clothes, powderd, and diaper changed him. He relaxed on my shoulder, and then promptly vomited out most of his dinner all over my new Daytona Beach sweatshirt. (thanks, Grandmom!)

I got him in the tub and let him soak while I washed out my shirt and his clothing. I then soaped him and got him, once again, changed, powdered, and diapered. He was rather unhappy at this point, and fussed for a time. I got a check-up "how-are-you-doing" call and he calmed down after hearing his mother's voice.
Cat resumed running about and entertained the baby for a time, as the dog had not appeared.

He eventually climbed up on my lap with his blanket, and relaxed, and fell mostly asleep. Holding a sleeping baby is one of the most relaxing things in the world, and I to was drowsing off WHEN.....

*choke*, *cough*, *gurgle*
(me a drowsy....huh?)

As throwup ran down his face into his hair and all over my skirt, the baby was trying to cry but couldn't. Suddenly in full command of my reflexes, I grabbed him, held him sideways so he could breathe and ran to the kitchen sink. I was about 5 inches short when the rest of it came up, but the water was near enough for me to wash his hair and face before grabbing the phone and making a GET-HOME-THIS-INSTANT call.

Ring, ring, (Isaiah: *choke, cough...CRY*) ring, ring, ring, (Isaiah: CCCCCRRRRYYYYYYY) (that annoying computer tone "Please leave a message for.....")

At this point in time Isaiah is clinging to me screaming because he got woken up with somewhat digested pieces of food and acid coming up his throat, at which point he was run across the house and dumped into a sink and had his face got wiped with soaking wet cloth.
About two seconds later the door slams, and the boys announce their return in Daddy's car. I take a breath, count to three-hundred, and ask Micah not to step in the stuff around the sink. Nathan immediately begins serving himself food, and Micah walks away.

Daddy took initiative and cleaned up the mess in the family room and the trail to the kitchen, as I took the baby to his room and re-changed, powered and soothed him. Walking back into the kitchen, Micah has been commandeered to vacuum up the bigger pieces, and he and daddy ask me to go change my skirt, as it is dripping *fluid*, and pieces of food are falling off onto the floor. I fold it up, and with the baby on my hip, take a trip to get changed, wash out the skirt, put it and my sweater in the washer, and keep the baby away from the clean-up party.

The moment all this is done, who should show up but the mother of the child. The haphazard rhythm resumes as everyone gets food and works on nighttime jobs and finishing school. As dinner is beign cleaned up, the baby begins coughing, (nother gave him a drink), and gets up most of the water along with probbably everything left in his stomach. His mother catches a good bit of it in a used dinner bowl, but much of it was not caught.

Micah immediately adds a qualification to his list-of-things-necessary-in-a-wife (now you know, honey!). "She needs to not get sick when she cleans up throwup.....oh MAN.....I'm getting sick standing here!" The baby is once again changed, and this time put to sleep by his mother. I get clean-up duty, but the stench keeps Micah from cleaning up the dinner table for another 40-ish minutes.

I am currently musing on the "not-so-obvious" qualities that one's brothers appreciate in one, although no one really thinks of them as qualities....and on the probability of reccurance of that item on any man's "future wife" list.