Disclaimer: Some rules of Mathematics have been irreparably harmed and/or distorted in the manufacture of this humor.

I often make a delicious toor dahl recipe that I got out of a Hare Krishna cookbook. In addition to recipes the book also offers suggestions on meal preparation, dining etiquette and general tips on living a Hare Krishna lifestyle. One of the suggestions is that before each meal is served, you offer a portion to Krishna and give Krishna thanks. This seemed to be a small thing to ask, and frequently, with a light-hearted grin, either Butterfly or I will pause in the midst of our enjoyment and utter, “Mmmmm, thank you Krishna.”

That was all well and good until one day when we were enjoying a rotisserie chicken. After a few succulent bites I offered a “thank you Krishna” and Butterfly rightfully noted that perhaps Krishna was not the best entity to give thanks to in this instance.

The next day I received this playful e-mail (no offense intended):

Subject: strategy for grace before meals

Indian food/lentil soup = thank you Krishna because we got the lovely recipe book from the Hare Krishna’s

Fish = thank you Jesus - for obvious reasons - feeding the masses with five fish or was it three? And of course that’s his sign - the fish symbol

Lamb= thank you (catholic) Jesus because Jesus is the Lamb of God and the Catholics are very serious about digesting the body of Christ

Veggies/fruit/whole grains=thank you pagan earth mother goddess for the fruits of her labour [sic - - butterfly is a bit on the British side linguistically, mind you]

For that almost hungry empty feeling = thank you Buddha

For that overstuffed angry feeling=thank you Mohammed

Chicken = unsure; thank the chicken

I stayed in from the cold and drizzle outside and spent the day puttering around the kitchen and cooking some spicy, warm treats. The colors, aromas and flavors of the spices seemed to vanquish the damp gray as it tried to sneak in from behind the blinds.

original art: hauself

ps. Happy New Year

My coworker is excited because Sue Miller has forecast 2008 as THE BEST year so far, in her whole life! I’m very happy for her, but…

I don’t have the heart to tell her that the last time Sue said such things I was erroneously evicted, Sparkler was excommunicated, Saltina’s life was thrust into the very belly of chaos and I’m sure some small African nation was struck with a 40-year’s plague.

I’m gonna try not to sit too close to her next year.

Note: some names and events have been changed or exaggerated to protect the entertainment value.

Apparently I am doing the EveryOtherHoliDailies this year and that is just fine by me:

Lately I feel that I am less inclined to really “communicate” in my blog because I am in a season of planting, rather than reaping…creatively. Throughout my life I have experienced fairly prolific times, and good/bad or indifferent, I can hardly contain the flow of words that emerge. Then it seems there comes a fallow time, where I neither write nor really consume much (other than the daily news upkeep). Then begins the curiosity again, when I seek and gather a wide variety of thoughts and ideas to digest, before the spew of words begins anew. I know… I know…very cliché cyclical…and nonetheless a fitting description of the turns that seem to be my life.

That said, I haven’t felt “good” about just deluging my virtual pages with vast chronicles of quotes and words by others. (Of course the occasional quote post is fine.)

But lately, spending more time on thoughts and words from outside sources leaves me with little of my own to divulge.

So to blog or not to blog…that has been the question. And the short term answer is to lift the self-imposed restriction on quotes and just freely share the ideas that most amuse, befuddle, inspire and delight me. Of course they offer as much insight into my psyche as a personal entry and perhaps they offer even more.

Because the holidays are upon us and because the holidays often bring to mind old times with my family, I offer this poem from Robert Service. He was an extended family favorite and I recall times when my aunts and uncles would regale us with memorized stanzas from “The Cremation of Sam McGee” or “The Shooting of Dan McGrew”, orated from the first landing of the stairs to anyone in the living room willing to listen. (I’m quite sure that sounds nerdy and very circa 1874, but they are my memories so they are somehow wonderful to me.)

This is a favorite of mine from “The Collected Poems of Robert Service”

The Sceptic

My Father Christmas passed away
When I was barely seven.
At twenty-one, alack-a-day,
I lost my hope of heaven.

Yet not in either lies the curse:
The hell of it’s because
I don’t know which loss hurt the worse –
My God or Santa Claus.

I love getting organized for a trip. I’ve got adapters, converters, chargers, batteries, cords, tips, plugs and a whole slew of gadgets.

Truth is I pack more ’stuff’ than clothes. All things included, I’ll still keep it down to one small carry-on for 11 days overseas.

Some folks in the office thought the news story about the man whose life was saved by a Vodka IV offered a wonderful solution for morale around here.
But one colleague upped the ante when she recommended a “Valium Lick.”

Sure, there might be a little jostling in line at first, but I’m certain things would become much more congenial and a sharing mood would prevail.

True Love - Living in the same home with someone who is learning a new instrument…and honestly loving the sour notes just as much as the sublime.