Chicken Little

Poor Chicken Little. The sky may not be falling, but the ground does seem to be rushing to meet you in a most unpleasant manner.

Among his many gifts from Santa, the squeaker received a "Chicken Little" remote-controlled car. The squeaker likes to make Chicken Little zip all around the house. Mostly, though, he likes to place Chicken Little on a table top or other raised surface so that he can promptly send him careening off the edge. I'm not sure why he does this, but treating Chicken Little like Thelma and Louise does not seem to bode well for the chicken.

Kill Me Now, O Lima Bean

What lima bean, you ask?

The one that is the squeaker's little brother or sister. Yes, baby #2 is due late this summer. And yes, what seemed like a good idea just a few months ago now seems totally nuts. Cravings? What cravings? All food sounds terrifying and repugnant. Can woman and lima bean live on saltines alone? I guess they must be able to, because many a mom has done it. I did it with the squeaker, so I guess I can do it again. But I was sick until 17 weeks before, and that sounds awfully far away right now. Nearly every second of the day is an exercise in concentration: "I must not throw up. I must not throw up." Co-workers, friends, and family do not know their peril when they stand too close.

I'd surrender to the lima bean right now if I could. You win, lima bean. I am vanquished. No appetite. No energy. Unimaginable queasiness. Sigh.

Words of support are eagerly solicited.

Happy Winter Solstice

We've turned the corner towards spring.

Intelligent Design Exposed

U.S. District Court Judge Jones has ruled that intelligent design cannot be taught in science classrooms. You can read the decision here.

A couple of observations:

1) The judge directly addressed the argument that ID is science, and his analysis is comprehensive and detailed. As a scientific theory, ID is left in tattered ruins by the judge. Generously, he notes that it may be a perfectly acceptable religious belief. But, he says, it is in no way a valid scientific theory. He also skewers the ID book Of Pandas and People.

2) The judge seemed particularly disturbed by the disingenuousness, ignorance, and even flat out lying of the school board members. Some reputations are definitely going to be severely tarnished in the wake of this decision. Some board members voted to add the reference to ID to the curriculum without even the vaguest notion of what it is. Others deliberately covered up and lied about pertinent facts, while making much of their religious beliefs in public.

3) Many people read the "disclaimer" statement that says evolution is just a theory and suggests reading Of Pandas and People for another explanation and think, "what's so bad about that?" On its face, the disclaimer seems fairly neutral. But as the court notes, "the disclaimer singles out the theory of evolution for [negative] special treatment, misrepresents its status in the scientific community, causes students to doubt its validity without scientific justification, presents students with a religious alternative masquerading as a scientific theory, directs them to consult a creationist text as though it were a science resource, and instructs students to forego scientific inquiry in the public school classroom and instead to seek out religious instruction elsewhere."

4) Judge Jones is no liberal "activist judge." He was selected for the court by President George W. Bush.

5) Media outlets are reporting that the court held that ID cannot be "mentioned" in science classrooms. Not so. The court held that ID cannot be presented as a scientific theory or alternative to evolution in public schools science classrooms.

Send an E-mail to Your Future Self

What a bizarre concept.

You can compose an e-mail and set it to be delivered to your inbox on a particular date, up to 30 years in the future. This presumes, of course, that your e-mail address remains valid for the time period that you choose.

At first I thought it was kind of clever, a sort of electronic time capsule with your own words as a kind of snapshot of this moment in time. Or you could address your future self in a way that when you read it in the future, you'll be reminded of the dreams and aspirations you once had, and you can evaluate whether you achieved them.

But once I really thought about it, it didn't seem so clever after all. Maybe this is because my life is so comfortably mundane. What could I say? I saw a movie this weekend, and I changed a lot of diapers. We bought x-mas tree ornaments and ordered pizza for dinner. It was cold outside. Zzzzzzzz. The daily details of my life are practically guaranteed to bore my future self.

Or maybe it didn't seem like such a great idea because my dreams and aspirations are pretty modest. What could I say to "challenge" myself -- "hope you stayed happy and healthy all these years!"? Because really, what else is there?

Plus, I wouldn't want to cause pain to my future self. Maybe there are some dark days ahead, and a chipper e-mail about my life today will only be a reminder of some painful losses in 20 or 30 years.

Now, if someone can figure out how I can send an e-mail to my PAST self, I'd be interested. In fact, I'd be looking up this week's lotto numbers right this second.

Kudos to Rep. Dingell

Congressman John Dingell recited this poem on the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives in response to House Resolution to "preserve Christmas":

Twas the week before Christmas and all through the House
No bills were passed ‘bout which Fox News could grouse;
Tax cuts for the wealthy were passed with great cheer,
So vacations in St. Barts soon would be near;

Katrina kids were nestled all snug in motel beds,
While visions of school and home danced in their heads;
In Iraq our soldiers needed supplies and a plan,
Plus nuclear weapons were being built in Iran;

Gas prices shot up, consumer confidence fell;
Americans feared we were on a fast track to…well…
Wait--- we need a distraction--- something divisive and wily;
A fabrication straight from the mouth of O’Reilly

We can pretend that Christmas is under attack
Hold a vote to save it--- then pat ourselves on the back;
Silent Night, First Noel, Away in the Manger
Wake up Congress, they’re in no danger!

This time of year we see Christmas every where we go,
From churches, to homes, to schools, and yes…even Costco;
What we have is an attempt to divide and destroy,
When this is the season to unite us with joy

At Christmas time we’re taught to unite,
We don’t need a made-up reason to fight
So on O’Reilly, on Hannity, on Coulter, and those right wing blogs;
You should just sit back, relax…have a few egg nogs!

‘Tis the holiday season: enjoy it a pinch
With all our real problems, do we honestly need another Grinch?

So to my friends and my colleagues I say with delight,
A merry Christmas to all,
and to Bill O’Reilly…Happy Holidays.

Dying to Get to Work

I drove to work today on roads so icy that I thought about stopping halfway and letting the roads thaw before I continued. But happily, I got stuck behind a small truck that was going about 10 mph on the windy back road that I use to get to work. Normally, being stuck behind a truck driving that speed would drive me crazy. But today it seemed like Providence.

Not everyone had a lucky commute; three Virginia drivers died on the roads this morning. How sad and bizarre to think of people dying to get to work. I'm a strong believer in staying alive, even if it means jeopardizing my job. If I'd known how rough the roads were this morning, I think I would have stayed home. But alas, I left so early that there were no daunting reports of accidents or treacherous road conditions available yet.

Maybe I should just quit my job and blog full time. Then I'd never have to venture out on icy roads.

More Nighttime Ramblings

From the squeaker, who has a cold, at approximately 3:30 a.m.: "Mama. Nose hurts."

Long pause.

"Kiss it?"

I did, and he went back to sleep. Ah, the healing power of kisses when you're only 22 months old.

"Merry Christmas" - Now Take That, ACLU!

Newsflash for people who are smirking as they send a Christmas card to the ACLU: the ACLU staff doesn't have a problem with Christmas, or Christmas cards, outside the context of government sponsorship. If you're getting some kind of satisfaction from thinking that you'll really bug them (and one wonders what kind of person would use Christmas greetings to intentionally goad someone else), you really don't have a clue. In fact, it suggests that you don't understand the legal issues at all, perhaps because you're so busy pretending that the "Anti-Christian Lawyers Union" is part of some kind of cultural war on Christmas.

Nevermind that the ACLU is as willing to defend the constitutional rights of Christians as it is to defend anyone else. It's much more convenient to overlook that and demonize the ACLU. Plus, demonizing is easier than thinking!

Neigh Neighs in My Stocking

The squeaker is already very wise about Santa. He knows he flies around in a ... um ... wagon, pulled by some reindeer (he's still a bit fuzzy on that counting thing, but he does know the number 8, even if he thinks it comes after 3).

He knows Santa brings presents ("Neigh neighs!", he'll say excitedly, leaving me to murmur "Toy neigh neighs, maybe.") He seems to like the general idea of Santa, though if you try to get him to approach Santa in the mall, he says "no" quite firmly, as if the very idea is just nuts. (Actually, we can credit Santa with the emergence of the word "no" from the squeaker, since it was his jolly mall presence and the threat of encountering him up close that first inspired the squeaker to utter the word.)

He's also very interested in Christmas trees and Christmas lights ("Lights. Hold it!") He likes angels and knows they have wings. He has a "Little People" angel that usually seems quite busy riding around on one of the horses that came with another "Little People" set. Or sometimes the angel drives a plastic car. But the squeaker knows it's an angel, and that it has wings. Maybe the wings/flying association has been confused by the squeaker's obsession with earthbound penguins, which would explain the need for the angel to travel by horseback or car.

No, No, No

The squeaker has finally learned the word "no." Previously, we've been able to pretend not to notice his objections to things like spinach for dinner and having his diaper changed, because we could act as if his non-verbal response was ambiguous. But now we're confronted with a very clear statement when he has negative feelings about something.

"Do you want a banana?"

"No."

"It's time to have your diaper changed."

"No."

"Do you want to read Goodnight Moon?"

"No."

"Give Papa a hug."

"No."

I confess that when he says "no," I'm torn between two impulses: to say "tough, do it anyway" or to coax and cajole. However, the latter feels an awful lot like negotiating, and I'm not sure about the wisdom of treating a one-year-old to negotiation, rather than a mandate. I suppose the determinative factor is that some issues are negotiable, while others aren't, and only the former should be treated as such. Thus, we can take or leave Goodnight Moon, but he still has to have his diaper changed.

Anyway, he didn't feel very well this weekend, perhaps because of the MMR shot he received, so he spent a good part of the weekend following me around with his little arms up, saying "hold you." He hardly ate anything all weekend. But at 5 a.m. he was murmuring "waffles" in his sleep, so hopefully he is feeling better today.

Imagine

I was six years old on November 8, 1980. My parents had lots of Beatles' albums, and I spent many hours listening and singing along with the headphones on (my parents must have been very tolerant to listen to a 6-year-old warbling Beatles' songs without the ability to hear herself sing).

Anyway, I learned that Lennon had been killed the day after he was shot by a crazed fan. My dad told my mom he'd been shot and killed, and she said it was no wonder, with the songs he'd been churning out recently. But I know she was very sad. And I can remember curling up in the rocking chair and crying. It's one of my earliest memories.

It fascinates me that so many people claim to love the song Imagine, which essentially rejects religion, nationalism/patriotism, capitalism, and war. How those obsessed with "God and country" can reconcile affection for the song is beyond me. I've spoken with some who disagree with my interpretation of the song, and who suggest that it is merely about rising above or setting aside the differences that divide us. If that were the case, Lennon could have sung "It's a Small World After All." Thankfully, he didn't.

Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,
It isn't hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Imagine no possessions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer,
but Im not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.

Writen by: John Lennon
© Bag productions inc.

Everyone Has a Mama

I'm sort of surprised that the squeaker understands about mamas. He has some books about mamas -- The Runaway Bunny, Is Your Mama a Llama?, Are You My Mother? -- so maybe I shouldn't be surprised. But it seems that he understands that everyone has a mama, and that someone else's mama is NOT his mama. He knows, for instance, that my husband's "mom" is Grandma to the squeaker; when he hears my husband call his mom on the phone, he'll say "Granny Kate!!" That understanding of not just a name, but a relationship, seems pretty sophisticated to me.

Anyway, I think we need to have more books about mamas, because encountering them in a book seems to lead to lots of hugs and kisses for me. Last night, we were reading A Snowy Day (a logical choice by the squeaker, since it was in fact snowing). When we reached the page where Peter's mama removes his wet socks, the squeaker pointed to her and said, "Mama!!" Then he pointed to me, said that I was HIS mama, and gave me a big smooch. It was great.

We have a serious dearth of papa books, though. Maybe we need to work on that before accumulating more mama books.

Watching America

I heard about this web site on NPR. It features articles in foreign newspapers about the United States. Today's article is from an Italian newspaper, and it discusses the "holiday tree" debate that has been going on in this country, along with New York's desire to upstage the White House by lighting their tree first.

It is kind of embarrassing that an international audience knows how much time and energy is spent on these kinds of cultural battles when there are so many unmet needs in the United States and throughout the world.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Weeks after the rest of the Potterheads, I finally saw the Goblet of Fire. Though it was short on character relationships and long on flashy action, I did enjoy it. The alterations to the book didn't bother me at all -- cutting out the whole Winky loop, but having the same perpetrator at root of the bad stuff made perfect sense to me. Some scenes served almost as a kind of shorthand for the book -- the World Cup Quidditch match was essentially suggested, rather than shown. I'm sure that left non-Potterheads utterly bewildered, but it works for those of us who want to see the films include as much of the plot as possible.

I was surprised that the ending seemed to stop short of where the book ends, but I hope that means the conclusion will be alluded to in the next film. It seems to me that Barty Crouch Jr. does need to die at the end. And I expect the next film to include the Ministry's skepticism of Harry's "Voldemort has returned" claims.

I did find Hermione's character fairly irritating. In the book, she has her good moments and her bad moments. Yes, she's obsessed with grades and has a nagging moralistic tone at times, but she is also a loyal friend and a good person. This film seemed to reduce her to the nagging moralizer, which was tedious and disappointing.

The biggest shortcoming of the film, however, is the portrayal of Dunbledore. How do the filmmakers get it so wrong? The books aren't subtle -- Dumbledore's eyes twinkle. His speech is described as mild, placid. His conduct is serene and unruffled nearly all of the time. He always knows exactly what to say, whether addressing the students after the death of Cedric Diggory or handling the interrupting Delores Umbridge. Where does the brooding, troubled, shouting Dumbledore in the films come from? It's so wrong that it's jarring.

But I enjoyed seeing the book come to life. I thought the changes to the plot were clever and well-done. Most of the characterizations are spot on. I wasn't disappointed.

Whining Around the Holiday Tree

Christmas is everywhere already, even though it's only December 1. And the whining has already begun. Jerry Falwell complains that Boston's decision to call its tree, erected in a city park, a "holiday tree" instead of a Christmas tree is part of a "concerted effort to steal Christmas." Steal it from whom, I wonder?

Personally, I think it's cosmic karma. Here you have a religion whose early followers decided that in order to help the pagans move towards Christianity, one of the Christian religion's holy days should coincide with ancient pagan celebrations. The historical Jesus almost certainly wasn't born in December. The Bible provides no date. The Bible also says nothing about Christmas trees or stockings or mistletoe, or about Santa or reindeer. But the pagans throughout Europe had a long established tradition of December celebrations. The winter solstice (which once fell on December 25) was celebrated as the turning point towards longer days. The Romans celebrated Saturnalia during this time of year, and December 25 was considered the day of re-birth of the Sun God, Sol Invictus, or Mithra, the Persian god of light.

That those pagan customs now overwhelm the religious holiday seems to be poetic justice. The pagan practices are so colorful, so much fun, that plenty of non-Christians embrace them with enthusiasm. And that is the essence of the shift towards "happy holidays" and holiday trees: it's a recognition that the holiday is effectively a secular one to many, many people. For these people, the tree and the cookies and the presents and the stockings are what is beautiful about Christmas, not attending church. Add to that the commercialization of Christmas -- because above all else, our society worships the god of consumerism -- and there is little room left for baby Jesus.

In a sense, early Christians chose the December 25 date in an effort to steal the celebrations of the pagans, or at least to superimpose their own religious meaning on those celebrations. That the spirit of those pagan celebrations, their customs, and their universal appeal now overshadow the religious sentiments that Christians tried to impose on the celebrations seems to be a fitting outcome indeed.