I couldn't sleep this morning. Woke up about 3 and pretended to be asleep so the Wonder Dog would actually stay asleep. Migrated to the couch about 4:30.
Wound up watching "Hysteria: The Def Leppard Story." Honestly, I really like Def Leppard, but I've never seen this biopic. Interesting story.
The actors playing the band--how come only the real Joe Elliot and Rick Allen look better than their counterparts in the movie? Why would you choose actors for the other guys who are the more attractive versions?
It's just before 7 on Christmas Morning. I've walked the dog and settled on the couch to watch William Vanderbloemen's sermon from last Sunday (the air a week behind, which is fine). Three things have already struck me this morning and made me think (something I don't tend to do a lot of before 8 a.m.)
First, as the Wonder Dog and I walked around the complex this morning, we were both awed by the silence. He even stood still for several minutes, just enjoying the quiet. We walked a bit more, and saw a huge flock of birds coming out of the trees behind the property. He put his paws on my knee (the sign that he wants to be held). I picked him up and we watched the birds flying off together. I was struck by the silence. That made Christmas morning for me. Just made it.
Then, on the couch watching William's sermon from last week, the 4th Sunday of Advent. It's seems that Sunday is always full of sermons about Mary's visit from the angel, telling her that she was carrying God's Son. William discussed the description of Mary's mental/emotional state upon that pronouncement--she was "troubled." The ultimate conclusion was that we, today, should be "troubled" about Christmas. Not the rush we all seem to be in this time of year. Not what we go through in shopping for that one difficult person. Not the stress of preparing that perfect holiday meal. No, we should be troubled by the miracle of the virgin birth and God coming to live among us, fully human, fully God. We should be troubled by what it means to us, what it meant to the world. And, once we are troubled by Christmas, all other "troubles" of our life will disappear.
The last thing I was struck by, is far more mundane than the other two. Just after the Presbyterian service is broadcast, "Changing Your World with Dr. Creflo A. Dollar" comes on. I don't usually watch this, because I don't care for his preaching style. But, this morning, I thought I'd watch it, if only because it's Christmas morning. I got oh, 4 or 5 sentences into it when he said something that I didn't find appealing. He, too, was talking of the visit from the Angel to Mary. It was the way he described it--"The Angel came to tell her that she was pregnant, and the child had been conceived not with the sperm of a human man...." I'm sorry. I don't think that something so wonderful and miraculous as virgin birth should be described so basely. It, I don't know, impedes the miracle, to me. Kinda like when the Discovery Channel airs a show on the science behind the parting of the Red Sea, or the 40 Days Flood. Some things should just be accepted as read. Now, I know that many people need more than just "blind faith," but goodness...talking about sperm and Mary in the same sentence?
So, it's 6:40 on the morning of Christmas Adam. Once again, The Wonder Dog has opted to make an early run outside and then go back to bed.
Do you know what my Christmas dream is this year? A backyard and a doggie door.
No, really, I have the same wish I do every year--that more and more the miracle of Christmas will involve far more than Santa making it around the earth in a night and people getting extra days off from work.
So, this morning, since I'm up, I'm trying to find something that isn't an infomercial or the news on TV. The only thing I've landed on the Ashlee Simpson show. She's Christmas shopping, I think. One of her pals just called the Beverly Hills police because some people, who might be photographers are following them around time.
Wow, that's gotta be tough. Getting followed around by photographers. Having to call the cops so you can shop in peace. I called the cops last night 'cuz the drunk guy downstairs got into a fight on his porch with his drunk girl at 2 a.m. They didn't wake me up. It was Wonder Dog having a fit about them fighting outside the bedroom window. So, I called the cops. Apparently, I was the 3rd call.
When the cops got here, the guy was yelling at my window to shut the dog up. The cops walked up and he says "I'm glad you're here. Can you ask that bitch to shut her dog up? He does this every night and wakes us all up." The cop says, "Sure, I'll talk to her, but you should know that we had 4 calls from this complex about noise in the last 20 minutes. None of them mentioned a dog barking, but all of them mentioned you." Teehee!
Stand-off. Me vs. a bottle of Equate Ny-Quil. (sp?)
I know I need to take it. I've had this horrible, painful, completely unattractive virus thing in my ears all week that has down-graded to a common, everyday cold. The only thing that's helped me all week is regular doses of Extra Strength Tylenol. I haven't slept more than 3 hours any night since Saturday. It's driving me crazy.
So, tonight, I decided to go ahead and take some Ny-Quil to help me get more sleep. Thing is, I hate Ny-Quil. I hate the alleged cherry flavor (I don't like cherries, but, guys, this ain't cherry flavor). I hate the consistency--it's like swallowing Palmolive. The flavor--did I mention I don't like the cherry flavor? Well, whatever that green crap is supposed to be is even worse (licorice? medicine? toxic waste?).
So, I'm sitting here, debating the best way to get this nasty crap down my throat. I know this is silly and immature and I should just take it "like a big girl." You have to understand, though, this is the only substance on Earth that makes me want to retch every single time it goes down my throat. Not a few times it has succeeded in its attempts and left me feeling worse than when I started down that road.
I'm thinking that the best option for me is to take alternating swallows of the fake cherry goo and milk. I'll let you know how it goes.
I usually have no freakin' clue what I want for Christmas. And people are getting real sick and tired of me saying "I want you to get me whatever you want me to have." Why does this piss people off? Is it because they know I'm going to open the box and think "THIS is what he wanted me to have? What have I done to him this year?"
Anyway, if you're looking for a few ideas...here you go.
In San Antonio this fine, nearly gone, morning. Came to visit a friend last night.
Okay, he's an ex-boyfriend. In fact, he's visited this blog before, in the early days. M returns.
I didn't realize that I missed him until he opened the door last night. I mean, yeah, I miss his company and our conversations. I didn't realize I just miss being around him. Nothing romantic or prurient, just around him.
Damn. I don't like being reminded that I feel for someone.
P.S. The title of today's post has not a blooming thing to do with anything else. I had Johnny Cash playing in the truck last night on the way up.
I wear a band on the third finger of my left hand. Yes, that's the "wedding ring" finger, traditionally. No, I am not married, or even engaged (in case some of you are joining our story a bit late).
It isn't fancy--a wide sterling silver band, with doves and flowers embossed on it. The dove has what could be construed as an olive branch in its mouth.
I've worn it there for months, now.
Today, I was asked why I wear a ring there, since I'm not married. I've not been asked it before, but, knowing that I would, I had an answer prepared.
The doves represent hope and peace, the flowers are hope and renewal. The ring symbolizes important parts of my faith--my Christian faith. I wear it to remind myself that there are more important things than being married or remaining single.
I started wearing it the last time I got really down about being without a partner. I vacillate on this one. Sometimes, it doesn't bother me at all, other times I'm really, really bothered about it. Wearing this ring is a token to help me remember that it's okay to be single.
Doesn't mean I wouldn't like someone to replace this ring for me one day. *grin*