Yup, this will be a roundup of sentential stuff pertaining to how various bloggers spent their Christmases, and what they got, and what they still want, and what they got their significant others, and why George W. Bush is bad President. (Yeah, that last has nothing to do with Christmas, really -- but what else am I gonna do with all those political bloggers I read who don't blog about what they got for Christmas?)
:: I loved it! I've been in the *I want to join the Peace Corps* mood lately and I think this book helped to nurture my sense of adventure. (And do go check out Jen's newest template, which may be the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. And that's saying something, given that my college graduation present from my parents was a fuzzy Persian kitten.)
:: So, today I cooked 3 racks of babybacks and a 10 pound brisket. (Well, I made some yummy peanut and almond clusters last week, and in the great game of "Rock Paper Scissors" of the food world, chocolate beats meat.
Well, OK, no, it doesn't. Shut up and pass the steak.)
:: Rain and fog is decidedly not my idea of a Buffalo Christmas. (Yeah, what was up with that?)
:: So just when we thought things were looking bleak for finding homes for the pets, we had our little Christmas miracle.
:: What is a Christmas book? (Damned if I know....)
:: Instead I was absolutely fascinated with polar explorers like Roald Amundsen and many others. I read up every book I could find on them in the library and wished very much I could have taken part in a polar expedition myself. Even today I am dreaming about spending in year on Spitzbergen. (It seems that The Gray Monk has a co-blogger aboard. I have got to stop forgetting about this blog.)
:: (There are no low-fat Hannukah treats as far as I know. The Hannukah miracle = lots of oil.) (Wow, I have got to try this recipe sometime.)
:: You know what you see when you go out on Christmas day? Very few white people. Very few black people. Many Vietnamese people at the Eden Center. And (later) at the Mall, Hispanic people. (You also see, if you've run out of milk, the clerk at the local 7-11 whose facial expression says, "Yeah, I drew the short straw, and I'm greetin' every customer with a frown and a grunt. Suck it.")
:: More than this, it’s the feeling of forced merriment that annoys me about Christmas songs. This false cheer floats freely in the air and, if you’re American at least, there’s not much you can do about it unless you want to head to the woods with a rifle, buckskin coat, and a dog-eared copy of How to Shit in the Woods. And I’ve no interest in becoming the Unabomber.
:: I just got off the phone with my girlfriend Miller, who is just one of my absolute favorite people on the planet, and just had her second run-in with obnoxious retailers in as many weeks. (This crap doesn't happen where I work. I'm just sayin'.)
:: I don't need a Ghost of Christmas Past to revisit the good old days. I still remember well one of the best Christmases ever, way way back when I was 11. But then, Christmas is always at its best when you are young enough to revel in it, and old enough to spend a month anticipating it.
:: Whenever the Bush Administration wants to ramp up its fear-mongering in order to scare people into complying with its agenda, it always turns to its buzzing ace in the hole – the radiological bomb.
:: The Gospel According to Scrooge ignores this, because the churches that put the play on reject the idea that good works are what get you into heaven.
You'd think that a typically slow week in Blogistan would result in me having to dig around more for Sentential Goodness, but as usual, it wasn't that hard. More next week, as we head into 2006.
(BTW, I'll be updating the blogroll sometime this week, doing a little pruning and a lot of adding, so keep an eye on that. Or not.)