Away in the Manger

Once upon a time there was a nice Jewish girl named Mary that got knocked up. She was so afraid to tell her parents what really happened, she went with the I'm-still-a-virgin-and-I'm-carrying-the-son-of-God Immaculate Conception story. Of course they didn't believe her right away, but eventually Mary wore them down. You go, Mare Bear! Frankly, I'm surprised the story's not used on grandparents-to-be more often by some of our more modern young ladies. I mean, even these days, what faithful, middle-aged woman wouldn't absolutely kill to be God's mother-in-law? So, Mary's fancy pregnancy proceeded and she went on to deliver Jesus. Many people have said he wasn't really born in December, as what we materialists have come to know as Christmas (Christ more, for you Spanish-speaking folks), but rather in the spring. Due to scheduling conflicts with the Spring Festival, however, it was moved to a winter month, preferably right after Hanukah and with plug-in lights in order to steal some of its thunder. Plus, Santa in bermuda shorts and sandals? Just doesn't have the same panache. I'm fuzzy on the rest of the happenings, but there was a manger and a petting zoo and Jesus grew up and wore Birkenstocks and was a super nice, benevolent guy and somehow, so people in future generations could sin all they want and then be forgiven by saying, "Oops, sorry," he ended up nailed to a cross (proof that Dick Cheney is a lot older than he looks) and then Jesus died. But then, wait for it...a miracle happened. Three days later, Jesus rose from the dead, causing Mary's parents such embarrassment for initially doubting her no-really-I-wasn't-out-rolling-in-the-haystacks-with-neighbor-boy-Billy story, giving believers and non-believers alike another three day weekend.

God knows, I love a good three day weekend :)

Then some other things happened (as soon as I get through the Comparative Religions class at SCC, I'll fill in some more important "facts"), but the greatest part is some of the family peeps and I get to celebrate all this by buying new white shoes and having a delicious brunch on a beautiful day down at The Farm, complete with pecan trees, cute chickens walking around and Hollandaise sauce!

Amen to that!

Tootsie Pop

Remember the Tootsie Pop owl?

I've been thinking about him a lot lately as I look at Nicky's toys, wondering "how many minutes will it take to get to the center of that?"


After days of picking up stuffed animal innards, I got him some "knotty birds" at Costco. They promised to have half the stuffing AND a rope filling! Long-lasting fun and easy clean-up. 

Ten minutes later, we're to the rope,

and the wise old owl in me has switched to things more indestructible.

Warm Blanket

I tossed a warm blanket over Old Wildcat tonight and it took him right back to his childhood, smiling as he reminisced about a hanging-out-with-his-dad day at a hot springs spa, complete with naturally hot mineral waters, a massage and a warm blanket. Buckhorn Mineral Springs is long gone

("A desert spa, offering the Southwest's largest and finest bath house. Famous for its mineralized natural hot water so beneficial in the treatment of arthritis and kindred ailments. Staff of Registered Physio Therapists, nurses and masseurs. Accommodations on the premises for 100 guests. Open year around. For descriptive folder write T.W. Sliger, Box 271, Mesa, Arizona"),

but at least we got the memory of it back. I don't think I ever would have imagined those two hopping in a car and trudging out to The Far East in search of an ancient natural remedy for their ailments, but it brought a smile to my face, as well. Old Wildcat chuckled again when I asked if my grandmother went too, probably also remembering her always-so-perfect-we-weren't-allowed-to-touch-it hair. While nobody ever drove me out to Mesa for a dip into those healing waters, I recalled some hanging-out-with-Dad days in long lost places like the Tropical Garden Zoo, Canterbury Carnival, an old theater that showed Charlie Chaplin movies on Saturdays and Chinese food on Sunday nights at Emperor's Garden. But what I wouldn't give right now to toss Old Wildcat in the car, turn left and head over to Buckhorn's so he could enjoy a soak in the mineral springs, a massage and a warm blanket. Sounds like just what the doctor should order.

Poppy Love

Flamenco por la Maddie

Ohhhh Maddie!

Ohhhh Carlos!

The flamencas were all aflutter as the sun went down at Crescent Ballroom as we gathered the gang to cheer in a new year for the magnificent Maddie.
Ole!

Farewell Friend

Rock The Zoo

Save the animals - rock the zoo 

Beer! Food trucks! 80s music! A rockin' spring night at the zoo.

Book Club - The Language of Flowers

A houseful of yellow flowers greeted the Divas at Laurel's. The juicy drinks, the yummy food, the senioritis, the fashion show, the catching up - now that's speaking my language. 

The Dog Whisperer

It's the people, people, not the dog.

I'm trying to be the Leader of the Pack. I must have given off a Wimp of the Pack impression the other night because after a party with some friends, they came back next day with The Dog Whisperer book. I read it by the pool as Nicky ran around, chewed on sticks and was adorable. It reminded me of a horse challenge I did at Miraval. It's not about the horse. Be strong. Channel your inner Cleopatra. Your inner John Wayne. Dogs need three things, says Cesar Millan, dog whisperer to the stars:  exercise, discipline and affection.  The problem is, we tend to just give them affection, affection, affection, awwwww, but they're ssoooo cute!

Time for a walk, little Nicky.