rudolph and his so called friends
Yesterday as I was standing in line at the grocery store to buy sushi for lunch, I listened again to the lyrics of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.
All of the other reindeer
used to laugh and call him names.
They never let poor Rudolph
join in any reindeer games.
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say:
"Rudolph with your nose so bright,
won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"
Then all the reindeer loved him
as they shouted out with glee,
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,
you'll go down in history!
Pay special attention to the word then. Get this: Rudolph was an outcast, and rejected by his peers for his odd looking nose. But when Santa suddenly wants to make Rudolph the lead reindeer, then all of a sudden all the other reindeer come on board.
What are we teaching our children here people?
You're nobody until somebody important notices you. Until then, DORKY REINDEER, you may as well just go and cower behind the fence of the playground, 'cuz you ain't wanted.
As for my kids, they shall never listen to this song. In fact, I'll stuff wax in their ears before we go into a grocery store. Better yet, we'll never go into a grocery store, because we'll live off the land, and grow our own food, fatten our own calves and stew our own reindeer.
Ha! There's sticking it to Marketing Departments across America.
It started last night around 3 AM, when I awoke to the sound of scratching coming from somewhere in my room. Now, mind you, I was sleeping. Soundly. And this scratching still woke me up. My first thought was, "Crud, did I get a mouse or something in here?" So I rooted around the boxes and other such things until I lifted my bike helmet and found poor Francis there, wondering what was going on. "Oh, just you," I muttered, and promptly took a rectangular tin box I had sitting around, and covered him with it, thinking I'd dump him outside in the morning. And then I returned to bed.
So on Friday, I took the day off of work to go quail hunting with Fr. Birdkiller. And, apparently, this is what a quail looks like, though I wouldn't know, since we never saw one. Eventually, however, we ended up at the Whiteside ranch, where we let the dogs chase down some pheasant and checkers and then let the good Priest blow them out of the sky. That was cool. The best part of it all was that I was out of the city, hiking out in the wild, enjoying the sunshine, breathing in the fresh air, and watching to hyper dogs have fun running through the brush. I also got to wear my 
Maybe not better, but certainly more of the same. The next morning, I woke up and got ready to go surfing with my old roommate Wall, who took me up to Rincon Beach State Park, where I attempted to learn how to surf, dressed in my oh so flattering wetsuit. Somehow, I managed to catch several waves and ride them in on my belly without getting in the way of all the pros - you know, the ten year olds and their dogs - who can stand up on the board. Eventually, we made it up to Refugio State Beach, where we caught a few more waves until I was completely exhausted from paddling, and I just sat on the beach in the sunshine, watching the tide go out. The best part of it all, I realized, was that for the second day in a row I was enjoying the sunshine and hadn't thought about the computer for even one second. Now that's what I call vacation.
Still, things got better because after all of that, I got to spend time with The Stacia again, this time because her roommate was having a "Cookie Decorating Party." I know, I know, it sounds weird. But you can pipe down the comments Scott. And you too, Cody. Besides, I quit wearing the chaps on Friday, and this party was on Saturday. Anyway, the idea was a simple one. Make like a hundred cookies, batches of colored icing, and invite your friends over to decorate them any way they want to, then send them home with their artistically challenged products. Me, I made Fr. Cookie, dressed in alb, cincture, and stole. If I'd had purple icing, I'd have ended up making a Bishop Cookie too; but, alas, such heresy was not to happen...
