December 2004 Archives

What is it about the changing of the year that gives us some sense that we can start fresh? It's as if time's not continuous, but rather divided into chunks and opportunities for second chances. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I, too, can use a reason to begin anew each year.

I think most resolutions fail because we just don't make them specific enough. Any successes are cloaked in vagueness, as are the failures – maybe that's why we don't lay it all on the line. But here are some suggestions for turning our usual empty promises to ourselves into something real and golden ...

The trash collectors are going to hate us. Not only did the Cutlet get a few large Christmas presents (encased in large cardboard boxes), but he got a few large birthday gifts the day after (similarly enclosed). Plus, in a house-cleaning frenzy Christmas afternoon to prepare our house for guests, I decided it was time to clean out the garage, too. So add some random cardboard boxes and flotsam to the pile. With no recycling pickup on Saturday, either, our bins are overflowing (into the trash can). What a mess, especially because our next trash pickup isn't until Wednesday.

Was jogging this morning before coming in for a short workday today, and a few blocks away, today is trash pickup day. It is easy to pass judgment on someone's Christmas successes by the number of boxes at the curb, or by the number of extra cars in the driveway. Of course, for those who don't celebrate Christmas, the season doesn't mean much spiritually, familially (is that a word?) or gift-ally (I know that one's not). But for those who do celebrate – no matter what it means to us – what is the measure of a "good Christmas?"

It's always some sort of miracle when genuine snow falls in north Texas. When the weather forecast calls for the chance for a "wintry mix" most of us here come to expect either NOTHING or ICE.

Yesterday, it actually positively snowed. Big, fluffy white flakes. A blanket of cold, moist good snowball-making snow all over everything. The temperature plummeted overnight to about 17 (I know that's downright balmy for some of you, but this is weird), so there's still a bit of ice on parts of the roads and the white blanket is intact.

What's even stranger about this?

With Christmas only days away, things are falling into place at Casa del T-bone. Here's some things I'm thankful for.

So, how are you doing today?

I think I have the flew.

Flew? Don't you mean 'flu?'

I might have that, too. But I call it 'flew' because that's what time does when you're sick. I had to down a cocktail of Robitussin with a Thera-Flu chaser just to make it into the shower. And while driving to work, despite fellow drivers exercising their normal erratic automotive-piloting skills, my mediciney head gave me an "Up With People" vibe and I just wanted to stop and hug everyone.

Freak! Isn't there some sort of rule that says when a blogger talks about having some sort of virus that the blog is over and done with? Finito? Close curtain? Won't the Blog Police shut you down? You know, that "cheese sandwich" post a few weeks back can only work against you. If I were you, I'd hire a good lawyer.

You are me. And you know my blog isn't nearly as good as it used to be. Just check the archives, you'll know what I mean.

Yeah, what happened?

I lost my muse in a bowl of potato salad. Or maybe it's because my day job forces me to spew forth thousands of words a week. Or maybe it's the Robitussin talking. Hey, do you want a hug?

You sicken me.

Nah, that would be the flew.

Whatever.

The Cutlet was born Dec. 26, 2002, and as anyone born Dec. 20-Jan. 3 can attest, it can be tricky to grow up with a birthday so close to the festivities that can overshadow one's special day. Me and the Petite Filet will do our best to make The Day After Christmas a good day for our wee one. We know it will become increasingly difficult and important to make his birthday special as he gets older. On his upcoming 2nd birthday, the challenge is there but not as daunting. After all, he'll only be 2.

In the spirit of Christmas, we tried to concoct a warm-and-fuzzy Christmas card to send out to our friends and relatives (something we attempt each year; last year we sent out store-bought ones; the year he was born we put a ribbon on the PF's belly). Not sure if this photo will make the cut, as the ones I took sans flash of him looking at the tree are more "serious" and "meaningful." We're hoping some of our crazy notions will build character in our son. But ...

Most of us have been there. A party – holiday or otherwise – at which things got a little out of hand, or things got just plain weird. Sometimes, that party happens to be an office party, or at least one at which co-workers are present. Much like that "Seinfeld" episode when Elaine dances at an office party and instantly loses respect, any type of socializing with co-workers has its dangers. But it can also bring workers closer together. Especially if they have to think of somebody to bail them out of jail at the end of the night.

I recently received a press release about a survey that asked about the more memorable office-party experiences ...

There are no such things as "new traditions" because a tradition isn't a tradition until it's old. But it's an often-enough used phrase that I'm sure it's considered correct in some literary corner (kind of like when people say "I could care less" and actually mean "I couldn't care less"). For this blog, "new tradition" will do just fine.

I wrote below that I need to focus more on what Christmas means from a Christian perspective. But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy the lights, sights, trees, music and other actual traditions associated with Yuletide. I love 'em, but some are wearing thin. So here's some suggestions for "new" traditions ...

Was reading the other day how today's youth (have we dubbed them "Generation Web" yet?) are so reliant on the Internet that if their computers crash, they don't wake up. They don't remember a time before the proliferation of Web access, much less those dark days before Al Gore invented it. They were born to blog, created to chat, taken to texting. To some of them, e-mail is a dinosauric prospect. I still think it's neato and coolio!

I remember the days before the Atari 2600, the Commodore 64 and – our first home computer – the Texas Instruments 99-4A. Internet access was a distant memory. For my sister, back then was all about Cabbage Patch Kids, Strawberry Shortcake and My Pretty Pony (all decidedly low-tech toys that required imagination, not batteries). What did we do? We went outside and played in the sunshine! What a concept!

Is this "progress" a bad thing? Not all by itself. It's the results that such technology is producing that is so baaaaaaaaad. Let's look at some of those:

My neigborhood can be seen from outerspace, and the whirring of electric meters can be heard from 500 miles away. Most of my neighbors don't know the meaning of "restraint," or see the artistic value of having a few dark corners in their yards. Nope. Everything is lit up beyond utter belief. That includes mixing metaphors (an inflatable Snoopy next to a Burl Ives snowman from "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer") and mixed messages (is that Santa kneeling at the manger?). What gets me is that not only do they outline the eaves of their houses, they outline their lawns. Eek!

We haven't done much to the outside of our house the past two years. In 2002, we were expecting the gift of Cutlet (he came on Dec. 26). Last year, we had an active 1-year-old (so we put up a miniature tree on our mantle). This year we want him to know it's an important time of year, as well as doing what we can to make the back-to-back days separately important. So we are decorating outside and putting our fake full-size tree up in the front room (photo possibly to come later). These are all good things. But ...

The breakfast cupboard was bare on this chilly Saturday as I was headed into my half day of work, so I decided to pick up a couple of chicken biscuits (a Southern delicacy) at the ol' Fil-A. As I was waiting to reach the drive-thru window, a USA Today newspaper box caught my attention with the refrain of today's front page: "Should the Constitution be changed for Arnold?"

No!*

I don't have time to watch many game shows anymore. Sometimes I catch the ever-obnoxious Family Feud on Monday afternoons, or if the Seinfeld rerun at 6:30 p.m. is one I don't want to see I flip over to Wheel of Fortune. When I worked nights, I used to catch a 10 a.m. showing of The Price is Right. Years and years ago, I liked to revel in the randomness of Press Your Luck or the sketch-comedy of Win, Lose or Draw. These shows have offered an altered-reality TV glimpse at what people will do for cash and prizes.

They aren't that much different than shows like The Amazing Race and Survivor, in that they rip contestants out of their elements and put them in wacky, zany, sometimes dangerous situations. If anything, "reality" TV shows of the modern variety offer more raw emotion than their studio-enclosed predecessors. But there's not that much difference when you come down to it.

That dude who won more than $2.5 million since June 2 as the reigning champion on Jeopardy! lost yesterday. Like a shoe salesman during a clearance event, the guy faced the agony of de feet. It was bound to happen. Nobody's perfect, nor can they win forever. Many of us prefer to root for the underdogs in a contest just to see the mighty fall. Kur-plump!! See ya, Ken Jennings!

Game shows offer life lessons (sure they do!). For example ...