Dem Bastards.

Don't forget -- Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash, live at the Zoo Bar, Friday night!

Or at the Waiting Room in O-Town on Saturday!

Be there or be ... you know ... not there ...

Me, I'll be there!

... and to all a good night.

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Hands down, my favorite Christmas tradition is listening to David Sedaris read his piece "6 to 8 Black Men." In searching for an online version to share with y'all, the best I could come up with is this -- it's in three parts, and it has ridiculous and unrelated video, but it's the Carnegie Hall version which I find makes me particularly giggly.

http://araclip.net/six+eight+black+men-cLiPsbJpRLhaSqs.html
http://araclip.net/six+eight+black+men-cLiPvU1D1HKTDCY.html
http://araclip.net/six+eight+black+men-cLiPg17Pl7MFMco.html

Warning: May not be child appropriate. Enjoy ... and consider it your Christmas gift from me this year.

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But wait! The lliterary geek holiday video fun doesn't end there!

Grammar Girl offers a hilarious video -- lyrics included! -- entitled "Grammar Got Run Over By a Reindeer."

Warning: You may become more gramatically correct as a result of listening to this.

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My favorite Christmas card this year was handcrafted by my next-door neighbor, who has three little ones. The quote on the card is courtesy 5-year-old Gus:

Christmas smells kind of like,
well ... outside, in Christmas,
it kind of smells really good.
Like some days,
when there isn't snow,
it smells like snow is already here.

May you all have a festive, stress-free holiday ... and here's wishing for a more peaceful 2008.

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It's all downhill from here.

The days will begin getting longer again.

I'm not a religious person, but I do make note of the solstices. I like to get up early and pay some conscious attention to the cycles of nature that get us through everything. It's a tradition I started on a beach in Mexico at a pivotal time in my life, and it seems to carry me through every season. To remember all that has been so good, and to remember that everything ebbs and flows.

The precise moment of solstice was 12:08 a.m. central time. So, without even realizing it, I passed solstice by talking on the phone with one of the sweetest souls I know. Good karma, I think. Looking forward to being in this time and place next weekend.

I'm awake early, and alert, but with the sweet luxury of being able to burrow back under the covers and roll back into sleep.

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Last night was my last chance to catch the Tijuana Gigolos. Managed to squeeze into the Zoo just in time to hear them finish their last set. Not a bit disappointed, though ... you know how you need to be in a certain mood to hear certain kinds of music, or to have a certain experience? I wasn't in a Zoo frame of mind anyway.

Instead, the mood I was in last night matched the people I caught up with ... some of my favorite people in the world. Discussing music and politics and scatology and Dueling Penguins and family dynamics and the future and everything else there is to discuss.

Happy birthday, Podunk! And happy holidays to my book-clubbing chicas ...

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Politically, I'm not a fan of Hillary Clinton. I want an unapologetic progressive who doesn't equivocate on the need to get out of world conflicts. And is electable. Pipe dreams, and I don't even have a pipe.

But this Ellen Goodman column really pisses me off. Going off on Rush Limbaugh going off on how America can't handle a Miz Clinton presidency because she's getting older ... and no one wants to see a woman getting older.

She's a year younger than our current president. And only four years older than Limbaugh, who of course is such a treat to gaze upon.

Didn't hear him talking about Thompson's grizzled jowls or McCain's age spots.

How old was Reagan, again? And Bush I? And most of Congress?

Just some political ranting to start my day, get my own gray-haired, crow-footed juices flowing ...

Waiting for Peace.*

(Warning: TMI alert!)


*Cribbed the title from some Peace Corps-related Web site. I like the double entendre.

The wait continues. My doctor called today. The pap smear came back from its second round of testing, and now I need a colposcopy ... the technical term for rummaging around up in my kootchie to look for any signs of cancer. Biopsy some tissue. It'll take about two minutes, and then another week or so to wait for those results.

I assume they'll be the same as last year's. A few cells of a low grade of a high-risk HPV strain. No cancer; not even any precurors to cancer. By my age, something like 80 percent of the population has had HPV come and go without even knowing it. Nothing, really, to worry about.

And I'm not -- not about that, anyway. Just really tired of being tested, in every sense of the word. I'm no longer afraid that high-risk HPV alone would eliminate me from PC consideration. But it's hard not to wonder whether something else is wrong. It's hard not to freak out about all the money this is costing me. And I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm not the most patient person in the world. ;-)

I'm ready to move on in the world, but the world's just not ready for me yet.

Called half a dozen people tonight; got half a dozen answering machines, and even my mommy hasn't called me back.

So I seek other diversions and go to bed early, referencing Tom Petty and Scarlett O'Hara.

Ice capades.

A week ago, when my sister-in-law mentioned she needed a second adult to take a group of Girl Scouts ice skating, I enthusiastically volunteered. Then I remembered that the last time I went ice skating, I was younger than these 8-year-olds ... and it was on double-bladed skates. I was sure I'd spend the day gripping the railing, the evening nursing my bruises.

To my surprise, ice skating apparently is a lot like riding a bike. I'm not saying I didn't wobble a bit, but I managed to quickly get up to speed, then picked up speed and even negotiated a couple of slow twirls. Even more surprising, I didn't go down once -- no bruises, no swelling.

Best part of the day: Five third-graders giggly and fearless even when they fell -- especially when the fell. They got right back up and kept going. They held each others' hands. They laughed at themselves. They ignored the cold. They were so in the moment, and into the moment.

Lovely setting, too ... surrounded by Mahoney State Park's rolling, snow-covered plains.

Anyone want in on a post-New Year outing? I'm dying to go back.

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In more adult entertainment: I've spent the past few days indulging a new addiction.

Insomnia, uncured by books, drove me to iTunes in search of something mindless to download and watch in bed. Right away I found a show I'd kept hearing about and had avoided because I knew I'd get hooked right away.

That's right. I'm addicted to "Weeds."

The first taste wasn't free, but it was only $1.99. After that, though, I had to buy my own bag -- the entire first season. For season two, I managed to mooch off Miz Amy.

But now my whole stash is gone. I went through two seasons in three days. And my next fix is nowhere in sight.

No worries, though. I can quit anytime I want.

Does it snow in Africa?

On Kilimanjaro, sure, but I'm betting it doesn't wherever I'm going. Which is good. I've shoveled at least four times in the past two weeks -- and I lazily ignored a couple of other "opportunities." This morning it was a good four inches ... and still coming down steadily.

Finally had a couple of little meltdowns this past week over all the Peace Corps paperwork. It's been such a struggle to collect -- over the past two months I've been to eight clinics, averaging 1.75 visits per clinic, plus countless phone calls, cajoling, mistakes, wine spills, etc. Even I'm tired of hearing myself whine about it.

Last week I got a glimpse of what it's all gonna cost me, too. (Tip: No matter how healthy you are now, never, ever take the high-deductible insurance plan.) And this week, my pap smear did indeed come back with "atypical" cells. Nothing serious, more than likely, but hard not to worry. And all I can do is wait.

It's all brought my emotions pretty close to the surface lately. But there've been ups as well as downs. I discount neither. More of each to come, I'm sure. Hang in there with me.

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Still in a food coma from last night. We celebrated Miz Amy's birthday with sushi at the unfortunately named O'Yummy. It's better than it sounds, though of course you takes yer chances with sushi in landlocked Nebraska.

Sure wish I'd had my camera, not only to capture the glowing birthday girl, but to capture the neon signs out front: "Sushi bar" right next to "Tackle Shop." For real.

Now the Bookstore Maven, Miz Meleeska and I are off to brave the snow and have lunch at Sher-E-Punjab. At this rate, Santa will have to bring me new pants for Christmas!

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Quote of the day:

"Find your place on the planet, dig in, and take responsibility from there."

— Gary Snyder