Focusing on Hope and Peace

This week of Advent we are celebrating Hope and Peace.

What do these mean to me?
The freedom to be myself, to let my light shine, as I want to. No needing permission from others, just simply being.

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine, Let it shine, Let it shine, Let it shine...

Hope: A brighter, healthier future, with strength and stability. May my family, my friends, and indeed, even my enemies, be blessed and loved.

Peace: May I be strong enough, healthy enough to face the world- to not apologize for being me. May I not worry about what I cannot change, but focus on the future, and do what I can to help others as I try to do. Let not my heart be troubled, but let me laugh when I am happy, and let me have the ability to let it out so I can heal when I'm not.
Amen.


I was introduced to Shiny, Happy People by Miss Michelle, my gymnastics teacher of 15 years. At this age, I'm aware of sarcasm among the extreme happiness in the video... and the background, where I might not have paid attention as a child. It still makes me nostalgic. Yes, we did look like dorks in the 80's and 90's.

British Engineering and Pearl Clutching

The Jaguar is a classic work of fine British engineering, and its smooth, flowing lines and sweet roar will be remembered fondly. Ford needs to be shot for killing off such a classic.

Ahem. If masculine eyes are now on the prize, a beautiful 1957 Jag, (Heck, I'd rather discuss the Jag, and I'm having a bit of a Jeremy Clarkson moment, for which, I do hope, I may be forgiven.)

This being said:

This is a new century. We are freer. We do say things our grandmothers and mothers would blush at. I'm known to be a bit shameless when it comes down to certain things, this I know. But ahem. One does not discuss one's feminine protection in inappropriate ways. You cannot expect a one-word response to "Do you use pads, tampons, moon or diva cups?" Anyone who does so, in a public forum, could not possibly expect a date this weekend. *Clutches pearls.*

I had to stop myself before I sent the following: "A couple of rags and a twig," instead of "Why?"-I should have known what I was getting into. I can understand a toxic shock argument, and didn't get one, instead I got, an hour later, a link sending me info I can get in any doctors' office (remember how very little respect I have for the medical profession) and four hours later, I got cramps. No, beg pardon. I got the answer, "Cramps". I understand that an epileptic's brain has unusual brain chemistry to begin with (Duh.) That once a month, said beleaguered brain may be further affected by that nasty Auntie Florence. But unless you're sticking your tampons up your nose, (and if you do, you're doing it wrong)-another one I tried to avoid sending back- that generally should be something between your gyno and you. I had to ask why... as my neuro being a ding-dong not withstanding, I've been asked regarding birthcontrol, as the anti-convulsants can mess with birth control pills, told to up folic acid, but never regarding cellulose and cotton based protection methods. Now... let me return you to your regularly scheduled programming, and let us NOT speak of this again. I need to go say about a few hundred hail Marys.

Tradition! Forgetting Stress In the Season of Light

Because it just isn't the holidays until I've worn a silly hat that is far too big for my head. Not time yet for full on Christmassing... it's the season of Light... Advent. We are on the first purple candle this week, Hope. This Sunday, we light the second, and focus on both Hope and Peace. We are waiting on Emmanuel, and on the light. But with light, comes laughter--- even among the stresses. At the stresses. This is Hope, this is Peace. This is Joy. Love--- may I show that, not in word, but in deed, in my action.
But may I laugh. May I suspend sarcasm for a while, and enjoy being starry-eyed, enjoy being a misfit. Enjoy the pure, sweet and simple, love the people who bring joy, for who they are. Life is tough. Pain is all around, but it can be forgotten-worry and strife...and the world can be forgotten for a while.

Dubious Honors

I follow and enjoy the Swedish government account---brings back memories of 1999's trip, and hope to get back. I got to see a tube of caviar paste again, a rather dubious treat that makes you grossed out when you first think about it: Fish eggs...in what looks like a toothpaste tube, smeared on Wasa wafers (crispbread, or large crackers... I miss these wheaty delights, but have found a gluten-free version I enjoy caviar-free) and enjoyed with the hair-straightening Swedish coffee.

After spending some time retweeting a link to a large list of Swedish metal (trust me... it's well worth it.) I found something weird happening.

Read bottom up. Google has taken to automatically translating me into English. While I joke that I speak "Bethglish" and am writing a dictionary as I go, this makes me laugh.

I, humble me, am apparently getting my own language entry in Google Translate. Oh! Such an honor! You like me, you really like me! The CORRECT way the top tweet was supposed to read, and English- reading friends won't notice or may get confused is this:."When you've been reading SWEDISH and go back to English." Showing your bias, Google?  Oh, Google. Tsk, Tsk.

I Want an Alien For Christmas

A song that never gets airplay, sadly.

Gregorian Chants for Advent

Because Gregorian chants can be very calming...
...and because I have yet to replace my Chant CD :-(

I owe a debt to the  lovely Jean Heimann at Catholic Fire for Gregorian Chant for Advent, which I am reblogging here... thank you! :-)

A Dreadful Feast

"Good King Wencelas" is a favorite of mine, taught to me by my endearing but rather odd Czech pediatrician.

The sanitized story told to children is that a king saw a peasant struggling through the snow, gathering firewood (winter fuuuuuuuuu-ooh-el...) and saying to a page, "Boy, where does he live?" Upon being given an address, king and page walk ten miles through the snow, barefoot. The page shivers horribly, the king tells him to walk in his footprints. By strange miracle, the footprints elicit a beautiful heat and the barefoot boy walks behind his monarch in comfort.

Popes have repeated this walk, and it's beautiful to see. But the story is bunk. 

 

(Beautiful song, though!)

 The truth (in as short a time as I can): Wencelas I was Duke of Bohemia, paying homages not to the Holy Roman Empire, but to East Francia. He was a gentle man, too gentle... a scholar as opposed to leader. His reforms caused strife. Brother Boleslav (Great Glory, Bringer of glory... Slavic names are more abstract.) kills him on his way to Mass one fine winter's day. The page kills one of Boleslav's men, and goes into the woods. He too is found and murdered. Boleslav's wife has a child that day. In honor of the horrid deed of murder, and feeling sad and sick, Boleslav names the baby "Strachkvas"- A dreadful feast. (Such a marvelous name--- oops, sorry, kiddo, we committed murder, and now that I am feeling guilty, you are permanently named in honor of this act.)

Boleslav was called "The Cruel"... but he did great things for Bohemia (if not being someone I'd ever trust to write a book of Slavic Baby Names.)