Happy Solstice from a Dirty Heathen!


Today is the first day of winter, starting at 12:47pm EST.  It’s also going to be the shortest day of the year.  I bet you didn’t know this, but Jesus wasn’t born on Christmas Day.  He was actually born in August or September and the Church “moved” Christmas to coincide with Winter Solstice to convert Pagans.  They even let the Pagans “keep” their gift giving tradition because, hey, the Wisemen gave the baby Jesus presents too.  What a baby needs with Frankincense is beyond me, but I guess when you’re God’s son, it’s extravagance from day 1.

Yesterday, I had to explain to a kid who Jesus was.  I think I did okay.  She’s six so it’s hard to put into childlike terms who Jesus is.

Holy cow I was tired last night.  I had a shower, then vegged on the “couch” only to become so cold I couldn’t warm up.  I had a bath, read some of my new book (fantasy for the win) and went to bed.  I didn’t even hear the phone ring when Nick’s Momma called.  It was good to hear her voice (thick with her Nova Scotian accent) on the answering machine.  It makes me homesick for the Maritimes.

I am missing my Facebook buddy, qLike this morning.  He’s manage to beg, borrow, steal time off…won’t be back to work til the 29th.  I’m glad though, he’s been running himself ragged with work, H1N1 and his little person doing nothing but crying and screaming since he came into this world a few months ago.  The doctors diagnosed him with something (I forget what) which q and SuzieQ have been saying from the start (only to be dismissed by the doctors).

Today starts the holidays for Office Mom who won’t be around this week.  Sad.  I love when she comes in and tells me I’m crazy, makes faces at me in the window while I’m on the air, or gives me my own patented finger waggle about something.  I think the finger-waggle shouldn’t be used against me…sadly I do a lot of things to induce the waggle.  A lot.  A LOT.

I have figured out my sleeping “problem”.  Cortejo is willing to help me out with it.  I have such wonderful taste in friends.  So accommodating.

I have to re-record my Christmas liner for head office.  Apparently, I’m a bit of a buzz-kill with mine.  No one wants to be reminded to “drink responsibly” and “please don’t drink and drive”.  Frack.

Coffee/breakfast with The Rachel this morning, hopefully.  Afterward, it’s home I go to talk to Shane and see how the big date went.

A few things in the news today:

A woman was impaled on a steel fence for 47 minutes while waiting for an ambulance.  The 34-year-old received no pain relief while her body was supported by volunteer emergency services workers during the ordeal in Yarrawonga, Australia.  The ambulance was contacted at 9:42 p.m. Tuesday.  Ambulance personnel were told that Kim Broadbent had been impaled through the groin in a fall.  A crew didn’t arrive until 10:29 p.m.  There was no paramedic available in the border town that night, and sources said a graduate officer was refused permission to attend.  A crew was sent from Wangaratta, which is 34 miles away, but wasn’t cleared to travel over the speed limit or with lights and sirens.  By then, Broadbent had spent more than 47 minutes seriously injured, lapsing in and out of consciousness.  She didn’t arrive at a hospital until about three hours after the first call.  The woman’s now in stable condition.

Impaled.  47 minutes.  IN THE GROIN.  <Shudder> That poor woman.  I’d be suing.  Especially if she loses the use of her lady bits.

Who would post a tweet not even an hour after losing her son in a tragic accident? It’s a question being asked — and answered — in the online community after a Florida mom went on Twitter to ask for prayers after her two-year-old son drowned in a swimming pool at her home. Shellie Ross is the mom in question. The drowning took place a week ago and the boy, Bryson, died at a hospital less than an hour after paramedics responded. Ross has more than five-thousand followers on her Twitter account. While some Twitter users and bloggers have criticized Ross for her postings so soon after her son’s death, some of her Twitter followers have defended her. But Ross herself isn’t talking about the matter. She asks on her blog that the media leave her alone — and her Twitter account says she has “protected her tweets.”

You know who does that?  A soul-less monster who clearly has an addiction problem as well.  My God, is she going to Tweet live from the kids funeral too?  If I had a kid, and it died, the last thing I’d be thinking about is my Twitter status.  Hell, I’d probably be unable to get out of bed, eat or stop crying.  That’s normal.  That’s what you’re supposed to do.  Or at least have the decency to get dressed, pick at your food and walk around like a robot.  Also normal.

Some people need to get hit by a bus.  Tweet that.


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