I’ve been a bit awol over the last few days, but I do have a few irons in the fire at the moment. And since I’m taking a small trip for New Years, I thought I’d take this chance to wish everyone a Happy New Year. And I realized that I’ve lived a sheltered life, cause I couldn’t find a photo of myself on New Years in all of my pictures.

This New Year is going to be quite a change for me, but one that, even with it’s inevitable ups and downs, is one I am wholeheartedly looking forward too.

Fair Winds and Following Seas to everyone in 2011.

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This is Christmas 1980 – Imagine all the things that have happened in the last 30 years. How different was daily life back then? Just a personal reflection of how times change. Merry Christmas.

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For those who have spent too much time in line.

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This sums up my thoughts quite well (it’s from Ricky Gervais’ response to comments on his opinion piece about being an atheist in The Wall Street Journal):

How do you plan on celebrating Christmas?

Eating and drinking too much with friends and family. Celebrating life and remembering those that did, but can no longer.

They are not looking down on me but they live in my mind and heart more than they ever did probably. Some, I was lucky enough to bump into on this planet of six billion people. Others shared much of my genetic material. One selflessly did her best for me all my life. That’s what mums do though. They do it for no other reason than love. Not for reward. Not for recognition. They create you. From nothing. Miracle? They do those every day. No big deal. They are not worshiped. They would give their life without the promise of heaven. They teach you everything they know yet they are not declared prophets. And you only have one.

I am crying as I write this.

It usually gets me this time of year. That’s what’s special about Christmas. It’s when you visit or reminisce about the ones you love. And reflect on how lucky you are. How they helped shape you. I remember the first time my mum took me to see a movie. I’d never been to a cinema before. I can still remember the place to this day. Everything seemed carpeted. The floors, the walls, everything. I had sweets and Pepsi and the biggest screen in the world, I thought. I was blown away. I lived a life in a couple of hours. When I thought Baloo was dead I was sobbing uncontrollably but trying to hide it. My mum was consoling me but didn’t seem as distressed as me. Then when it turned out that Baloo was still alive I was f—ing euphoric.

But it made me think. On the way home I asked my mum how old I’d be when she died. “Old,” she said. “Will I care?” I asked worried about my far off future feelings. She wasn’t sure what to say. She knew I wanted the answer “no” in some ways but as usual she chose honesty. “Yes,” she said. “But it won’t happen for a very long time.” That was good enough for me.

When I returned to school a few weeks later we had to do a little presentation about our holidays. I proceeded to act out the entire movie using the other kids in the class. I told them where to stand and what to say, filling in the action with narration. Eventually the teacher had to stop me because I was taking up the whole day. Now I’m a real director I never make that same mistake. I’m home by 4 o’clock on any movie I do.

I haven’t seen the film for 40 years so I’m not sure how good it is but it’s still one of my fondest memories because it was a gift from my mum. My mum died when I was 40.

She was right by the way. I did care. But luckily 35 five years before, I’d learnt the bear necessities to get me through.

Just like Baloo, she’s still with me.

Dad’s are pretty cool too. Mine was a man of few words. He let me make my own way. He taught me one important lesson though. That it’s OK for a man to cry. He only cried once in his life. Just one time. When his mum died. Luckily for him all his children out-lived him. Otherwise there would surely have been a second.

I hope you are with your loved ones at this wonderful time of year. That’s what will make it wonderful.

Peace to all mankind. Christian, Jew, Muslim and Atheist.

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So I’m always fascinated by where our traditions come from and Satan Claus is not exception. Here’s a chapter from a book that is not yet published about where the Santa myth may actually come from. And be prepared for some folks to be unhappy.

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Shivers down my spine because of music is something I’ve had all my life. And this interesting article discusses a possible reason why. Very cool!

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So I enjoy the lighted, inflatable Christmas decorations – Santas, Trees, Angels, etc – as I drive around in the evening. However, they very much remind me of cast-off snake skin when I drive by them during the day, sitting uninflated around peoples front yards. It’s like so much laundry that’s fallen off the clothes line.

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This is the pile of stuff that went off to Amvets today as part of my preparations to move. I anticipate one more smaller donation to them, at least one more donation of books to the Friends of the Bonita Library, and a trip to the Hazardous Waste Disposal site at the dump before I move. I’ve also got a list with 31 things to be done before I move in addition to packing my stuff up. I have to make sure the Museum is as ready as they will be for me to be gone. And I have less than six weeks left. Oh, and then there’s Christmas and New Year’s coming up as well. And a visit from Stan as well, I hope.

Let’s just say that I’ve got a lot on my plate and it ain’t going away any time soon.

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Just watch the video – nuff said.

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