If Santa's sleigh lets him down, maybe he can hitch a ride in our GMC Savanna...

Speaking of which , we are heading back East on Wednesday for not only yuletide gatherings but also a mini-vacation for hubby and me at not one but TWO, count 'em, TWO AC Casinos. We played like lunatics over the summer on slot machines. Luckily there is the delayed payoff of comp hotel nights - which we are gladly using after we drop the kiddo and the dogs off with my parents.

 I'm excited about my first "away just with my 'date' trip" SINCE MY HONEYMOON. Yeah, its been that long - almost 10 YEARS! So our first night will be at one of my favorites, the off-boardwalk HARRAHS. Then we head for two nights at the Tropicana which used to be a dump but has reinvented itself with expansion that includes "The Quarter" - a shopping/spa/entertainment/dining complex that juts off the boardwalk and has served the Trop well in bringing in a younger clientele.

My mom, who is "hooked up" with those in the know of Atlantic City nightlife, secured us hard-to-get reservations at the (in)famous hidden gem, Chef Vola. I described this restaurant to a friend as a sort of "speakeasy for foodies, minus the booze." I doubt any other description could be more apt. You have to KNOW someone who is an established patron there to serve as a "reference" for you. It is cash only, and there is no sign anywhere on its residential street to tell you that in the basement of a classic yet unremarkable Atlantic City home lies a culinary paradise for invited guests.

Its BYOB which is cool because despite the heady menu prices, the tab is usualy reasonable due to no fancy martini drinks - and accompanying taxes - on it.

The worst mistake you can make is passing up the seafood or steaks for pasta. The pasta is just fine...but its really better as a side dish than entree; since many items at Chef Vola are served "family style" (like the salads, and veggie sides) my guess is that the pasta is also more of a side, as well. Since i have seafod allegie s( *sigh*) I cannot partake of the crabcakes, of which my husband is particularly fond. For certain, the desserts - all homemade and quite unique - are unbalieveable - I will go low-carb again after the new year! Best of all, it is about a block from the Trop so we can booze it up with our own wine and walk back to the hotel to gamble away what we didn't spend on Broccoli Rabe and Lemon Cello.

Have a Merry Christmas, everyone!

...And no bong in the rectory, either.

Imagine my surprise to find the rectory living/dining room to bear an uncanny resemblance to a fraternity house (well, a really, really NICE fraternity house, anyway.) They even have a bar, complete with a neon palm tree wall hanging. I'm not even kidding.

The key differences between the frat houses of my youth and the priests' home of today are outlined as follows:

	Frat House	Rectory
Entry	Greek letters over door	Crucifix over door
Foyer	pile of coats on floor	coat closet for guests
atmosphere (i.e. - SMELL)	stale beer	stewed cabbage
centerpice of coffee table	game of "quarters"; bong; ashtray; plastic cups of beer	large glass hurricane candleholder surrounded by wreath of holiday greens; coasters for guests' drinks
wall decor	girlie pinups, beer ad signs, neon palm tree	wood carvings saying "jesus"; repro landscape prints, neon palm tree
furniture	stained, soaked, shredded tweed armchairs and sofas from 1984	good-quality leather sofa and loveseat; classic wing chairs, dept. store-quality traditional dining room set, faux/moveable fireplace for "atmosphere"

It was a nice get-together; Fr. Jerry (the pastor) put together a table of appetizers and I bought cookies. He tended bar, and to my annoyance, for some reason he kept avoiding serving me, and in fact topped off the men's wine but skipped over me...that is weird because I've never gotten drunk and stupid at a church event... other events yes, but not a chuch event. Heheh.

Today I flew solo!

I gave out my first Host! I was so nervous and unfortunately for the recipient, I had to keep glancing at my prayer book. But I got the host from the tabernacle, put it in the little travel container, drove over the recipient's home and luckily for me he instisted on standing with his walker so I skipped the Our Father and the reading and all the "pregame show" and help up the host, said the required prayer, waited for his prompted response and carefully placed it on his tongue. Then as "dessert" I said a prayer of blessing and annointed his forhead.

The awkward part is after that was done, I didn't know wha else to do; I made some chit-chat conversation and then scheduled a regualr day/time to bring him communion. He is a very nice elderly gentleman, homebound due to illness, so besides the religious aspect, we have a nice little visit and I'm sure for him it breaks up the day, is something to look forward to, etc. In so many ways, then, the sacrament is healing.

Continuing with my Church-y theme for the day, I am a bit nervous and uneasy about our council meeting for tonight; the pastor decided to move it to the rectory (the little house where the priests live) because we are having some kind of cocktail party along with our regular agenda. I dunno; maybe its silly but that place seems to me like it shoud be "off limits".

I ran into him as I was grabbing my "Christ-to-go" order. He leaned in and said, "Hey you're coming tonight, right? Come to the front door. I'm having appetizers."

Somehow I had a flashback to the age when guys invited me to frat parties, off-campus keggers, and the most insidious invite - the "birthday party" that never was. What was THAT all about? Oh, well at my first job after college, a male co-worker (roughly my age) called me at home and invited me to his apartment.
"You gotta come over, it's my birthday, I'm having a party," he pleaded.

I hesitated but I thought it sounded like a good (and cheap) way to spend a Friday night so I put on a cute party dress and drove over to his Rogers Park digs. In the cliche of all cliches, I knock on the door and the only other "guest" was a quarter ounce of hashish and a bong lined up in the living room!

Now I highly doubt that any hallucinogenic agents will be the centerpiece of tonight's meeting.But I'll let y'all know if the hymn chanting gets so raucous as to elicit a visit from the cops!

Despite freezing temps and an even more ominous icy glaze, my goldfish is (are?) still ALIVE! I say "is/are" because I was able to see my one huge brilliant orange fish nestled (and moving fins/breathing) in some debris toward the bottom of the pond. The others were merely fry when fall set in and are tough to see as they are only a gray color (or were at the time.) The tadpoles/froglets also would be hiding under mud/leaves if they are still alive. And there are tons of snails puttering around happiy munching on that leaf debris at the bottom.

Word for the day: "MULM"

Mulm is the decayed mush from plants, dead insects, fish and frog poop, etc on the bottom of a pond. EWWW!

My pond has load's of mulm now but I have a bubbler (airstone) running 24/7 to add oxygen and prevent the whole thing from turning to ice (moving water has a hard time freezing.) As the plant matter deacys it adds warmth but also toxic gasses (see previous entry!) so if that gas builds up under the ice it will kill everything off. The airstone (as well as a de-icer that floats on top) allows for holes so the gasses can escape and an oxygen exchange can occur. So far, so good!

Here's my plan to rid our country of dependence on foreign oil:

1.) step up barley farming and distribution efforts nationwide.

2.) mount a massive campaign to get everyone on a turkey-barley-vegetable soup diet

3.) get those windmills and natural gas plants ready for action.

Seriously, though, what the duece is with BARLEY? It seems like this innoucous little grain, has a nutty, al dente chewiness, is delicious in soups and stews, is packed with protein and fiber but DAMN does it get the colon cackling.

I wonder if simultaneous worldwide spritzing of OUST and FEBREEZE will inerefere with those windmills?

In no particular order:

• "Change" was the best Tears For Fears song; Mad World was the only good album they ever made.
  
  
• I think the "mature" Madonna is actually more interesting to look at and listen to (musically ONLY) now than in her Boy Toy days; however I preferred when she didn't try to make "statements" other than in fashion.
  
  
• Tony Hadley (Spandau Ballet) had one of the best singing voices of any 80's pop star; however his Broadway/lounge style never translated well to the US pop market. Download  "Gold" by SB and listen closely...
  
  
• So many great 80's pop songs had some of the hokiest arrangements - producers overused synthesizer, saxophone solos, bongos, flutes, and clap tracks to the point that despite inviting hooks and melodies, the tunes are too embarrasingly dated. Feel free to chime in the comments with some of your favorite examples.
  

(And for Miss Ginger:)

• Poor Dave Kendall had to have been MTV's most-mocked and despised Vee-Jay, even though he (and his toupee) stuck with the so-called "alternative rock" show, 120 Minutes for 3 years(1989-92) despite getting punched in the face at England's Reading Festival. Personally speaking, I was one of the Mockers.
  

Today is December 8th; in the Catholic Church this means it is The Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Which is an awesome trivia question that people get wrong all the time. It means that Catholics believe that MARY was concieved by her mother (St. Anne) without Original Sin on her soul. How this factoid came about is beyond me...all I know is that when I was a kid, in private Catholic school, we got the day off for it! So needless to say, I was all in favor of it!

As I sat at Mass today, I got a bit nostalgic in that since we always had this day off, it was traditionally the day my mom would take us to Center City Philadelphia to see the Wanamaker Light Show and then go to lunch at the Crystal Room.

Even though Wanmakers has gone through many incarnations to its current state as Macy's, the light show still carries on, along with the massive Wanamaker Organ that other bloggers have mentioned elsewhere...

There was talk that the narration track for the light show was to be re-done, replacing the voice of the late, great Philly broadcaster, John Facenda. This stirred much controversy in my hometown but my sister attended one of the shows to discover that Facenda was replaced by...none other than Mary Poppins/Sister Maria/Victor-Victoria herself, Julie Andrews! Actually I think it was a great choice.

Anyway, back at Mass I reminisced in my head for awhile as I listened to the readings. And then Father Steve began his homily...

Don't get me wrong - his homilies are GREAT. This guy must have studied speechwriting and public speaking/theatre extensively because his stuff is the shizzle...thoughtful, engaging, intelligent and yet accessible and unpretentious. A difficult mix to achieve, in my book. I keep thinking he could make a fortune on the talk show/lecture circuit. But anyway...

He was discussing today's first reading from Genesis - about Adam & Eve getting totally busted by God and fruitlessly trying to fake their way out of it. Then he looks directly at me (the Church was pretty empty) and says, "Now, all of us have embarassing things from our past, we can't hide them from God." and then something to the effect of "we should confess them to free ourselves from that shame and embarrassment."

WTF?!?!?

Immediately I recalled yesterday's blog entry and thought,"Is that dude lurking on my friggin BLOG?!?"

So, Steve - if you are out there, leave a note here and free yourself from the embarrassment of getting busted by ME!

post script -I'm realizing now that this "free yourself" talk was really strange as the few times I have gone to confession w. Fr. Steve, he's so laid back and says, "Ah,. that isn't a sin I wouldn't worry about it." Plus the penances he gives are pretty boring and mild ("say a prayer about it.")You certainly won't get a clerical spanking from him when you spill your guts.  Maybe he's bored and is looking for some new lurid confessional tales to spice things up. Gee, wouldn't THAT be a kickass idea for a "reality show" - put a hidden camera & mic in a confessional?!?!? Of course completely unethical/illegal - but we ARE talking about American television.  In the meantime, if you are seeking all things lurid and/or horrific to stir up your emotional melting pot, then I highly recommend the bizarre memoir, Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs.

Today I did my first "home visit" as a Minister of Care. It was an "apprenticeship" session - I was under the impression from the MOC Coordinator that I'd go on a few visits but she told me that the gentleman we chatted with, prayed with, and gave communion to will be "my guy" as of next week! I have to get cracking memorizing the prayer service/blessing that I perform before giving the actual host.

And I am so lucky becasue the man I will be visitng is very friendly, has very close ties to the parish - his wife, now passed, worked there for many years in the office - and really seems to enjoy the visit. I am a sociable person so I think it will be a good match. However I am really nervous about doing this on my own.

My mom keeps chuckling in disbelief that her daughter, who nearly got expelled from Catholic school (well, at least I got PLENTY of demerits!) is now a Eucharistic Minister!

I had to laugh after viewing the made-for-cable tv-movie, "The Notoriuous Bettie Paige" at how similar her life and mine have gone in terms of our spiritual selves - from wild and wacky (although at all times happy-go-lucky/fun-loving) to deeply tuned to the Spirit within and around us. They always say that sinners make the best saints. I think its true, even if I do offer a devilish grin now and again.

That rocking van flew back across PA, OH, IN and finally snaking its way up I-294 to get us home in a record 12.5 hours!

Many thanks to my lead-footed spouse for undertaking this year's Thanksgiving driving adventure.

It was actually quite a pleasant ride as we downloaded hours upon hours of charming material from the archives of 'NPR's "This American Life." Now I have a growing crush for Ira Glass and his sweet boyish voice. *sigh*

Likely the most memorable event surrounding this weekend was the Thanksgiving Night Movie my 60-year old, white, suburban, Republican mother selected for our viewing pleasure.

My parents refuse to subscribe to Cable television. After scanning the scant few channels they do get, my mom offered, "Well I ordered "Hustle 'n Flow" from Blockbuster. How about we watch that."

"Uh, Mom? Do you know what that is? Its a RAP movie!"

"All I know is that Terrence Howard was nominated for an Academy Award for his performance."

As our viewing commenced, it became apparent that we, in our Turkey & stuffing stupor,  would not be able to follow the thick, exaggerated southern-slash-ghetto accents affected by SOME of the actors. Thankfully (and what a good day to be thankful) close captioning came to the rescue and mom and I lounged on the couch taking in more deliberate misspellings, and overuse of the word "muthafuckah" to the point that we were utterly giddy. We were astonished at the level of crapitude to which the script sunk, not only in terms of the ridiculous plot, but mostly the outrageously laughable dialogue.

If you are familiar with some of the minor hit tunes spawned from the film, then you may be aware of what strong hooks they carry. The next morning I distinctly heard my mom, swathed in Talbots and tucking away the Williams-Sonoma wares from Turkey Day, singing to herself, "Its hard out here for a pimp..."

Yep.
We're taking our rockin' van onthe road to Philly for Thanksgiving.

Have a good one.