This morning I got up before the rest of the house, started the coffee, laid out the wee-one's breakfast and settled in to read a few pages.

I heard chirping from the nursery and went in to get the little one up around 6:45. When I opened the door, a stench slapped me in the face. My first thought was, "One of the dang dogs killed a squirrel and hid it in here . . ." I realized that was crazy.

Then I saw the little cherub - smiling at me over the railing of the crib. I saw that the bedding beneath her was pretty wet so that meant either mommy forgot to put her in a nighty-dighty when she went to bed or little Annie just peed her way through it. I resolved to pick her up and head straight to the changing table without the usual morning cuddle session.

When I picked the punkin' up, I saw brown stains on the sheets. I instantly thought, "Oh no - something is wrong with her pee". I put my nose near her jammies and was met with an acred stench. "Oh no, here we go", I thought.

Annie was her normal giggly self so that was some reassurance. I laid her on the changing table and started to undress her from her (normally) brown foot pajamas. Once I got her unzipped, I thought, "This is not a job for one person". I woke up my wife and said, "I am going to need your help in here".

The wife came in and said "Oh boy". The little one was covered in #2 - and it wasn't pretty. The wife took hold of the wee-one's hands to keep them out of - well, everything. I unlatched the diaper and was met with a horror. Now granted, it was nothing unnatural other than I have never seen anything like it.

This would be a good time to let you know a secret of mine - I am a sympathetic puker. The sight and/or smell makes me follow suit.

There in the heated, fetid room, staring at - yipes! - I involuntarily gagged. I clasped a poo-stained hand to my mouth to keep from puking on the poo-stained child (I figured that would not help matters), excused myself and proceeded to drive the white porcelain bus for the next few minutes - leaving my wife stranded.

All I could think of was, "Puke faster! You have to get back in there! The wife needs you!" Sort of like when they ask wounded soldiers if they have any questions and they always reply, "Yeah, when can I go back to the front lines?"

I finished by business, got myself together and headed back in. The wife had done a miraculous job. The war was over and it was a mop-up operation now. I got the bath water running, the wife dunked the child and I started the laundry.

I have never seen anything like it. Still, the images come unbidden to me and cause me to gag.

I have never thought of myself as one of these guys:



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WTij4txO8Uk

But I guess puke speaks louder than words.

I don't know how my wife did it.

And through it all, the wee one was smiling and giggling.

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of snow.

by Lawrence Raab

Every day there's something old
to feel sorry about—
what I should have done and didn't,
or what I did, and kept on doing.

I want to believe
everyone's forgotten by now.
Then I picture them thinking back.

And those who've died
and earned the wisdom death allows
just shake their heads and sigh.
"Very funny," my father would say

after my sister and I played
some cruel little joke on him.
"Ha, ha," he'd add,
to let us know he got the point.

We want to forget
until we start to forget.
We want the past to change,
and we want it back.

"Enough is enough,"
my father used to say
to tell us it was over.

At twenty below the winter storm it billows
But the fire is so warm inside
And the children while nestled in their pillows
Dream of St. Nicholas's ride
And how the next day they'll get up and they will play
In the still falling Christmas snow
And together we'll celebrate forever
In defiance of the winds that blow
My god in heaven now I feel like I'm seven
And spirit calls to me as well
As if Christmas had made the winter warmer
Made a paradise from what was hell

- Blues Traveler

A Proclamation.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God.

For your Thanksgiving enjoyment, a few of the many questions handled by the Butterball Hot line:

* Should I remove the plastic wrap before I cook my turkey? Yes.

* I don’t want to touch the giblets. Can I fish them out with a coat hanger? Yes.

* Can I poke holes all over the turkey and pour a can of beer over it to keep it moist? You’ll do more harm than good- the skin keeps the moisture in. Poking holes in it will dry it out.

* Can you thaw a frozen turkey using an electric hair dryer? Or by wrapping it in an electric blanket? In the aquarium with my tropical fish? In the tub while the kids are having their bath? No, no, no, and no. If you’re in a hurry, thaw the turkey in the kitchen sink by immersing it in cold water. Allow half an hour per pound, and change the water every half hour.

* How can I thaw 12 turkeys all at once? The caller was cooking for a firehouse, so Butterball advised them to put them all in a clean trash can and hose them down with a fire hose.

* The family dog bit off a big piece of the turkey. Can the rest of it be saved? Maybe. If the damage is localized, cut away the dog-eaten part of the bird and serve the rest. Disguise the maimed bird with garnishes, or carve it up out of view of your guests and serve the slices. The less your guests know, the better.

* The family dog is inside the turkey and can’t get out. A few years back, Butterball really did get a call from the owner of a chihuahua that climbed inside the raw bird while the owner’s back was turned. The opening was big enough for the dog to get in, but not big enough for it to get back out. The turkey expert instructed the owner on how to enlarge the opening without injuring the dog. (No word on whether the bird was eaten.) Butterball has also fielded calls from owners of gerbils and house cats. “I was told not to talk about that,” one Talk-line staffer told a reporter in 1997.

* I need to drive two hours with my frozen turkey before I cook it. Will it stay frozen if I tie it to the luggage rack on the roof of my car? The caller was from Minnesota, so the answer was yes. If you live in Florida, Arizona, or Hawaii, the answer is no.

* I scrubbed my raw turkey with a toothbrush dipped in bleach for three hours. Is that enough to kill the harmful bacteria? The heat of the oven is what kills the bacteria; scrubbing the turkey with bleach makes it inedible. (In extreme cases like these, or anytime the Talk-line staffers fear the bird has become unsafe to eat, they advise the cook to discard the bird, eat out, and try again next year. If the caller can’t imagine Thanksgiving without turkey, they can get some turkey hot dogs.)

* I don’t want to cook the whole turkey, so I cut it in half with a chainsaw. How do I get the chainsaw oil out of the turkey? Toss the turkey and go get some hot dogs.

* The turkey in my freezer is 23 years old. Is it safe to eat? Butterball advised the caller that the bird was safe to eat, but that it probably wouldn’t taste very good. “That’s what we thought,” the caller told the Talk-line. “We’ll give it to the church.”

* How long does it take to thaw a fresh turkey?

* How long does it take to cook a turkey if I leave the oven door open the whole time? That’s how my mom always did it.

* Does the turkey go in the oven feet first or head first?

* Can I baste my turkey with suntan lotion?

* When does turkey hunting season start?

* How do I prepare a turkey for vegetarians?

LINK

by Lawrence Raab

After we saw what there was to see
we went off to buy souvenirs, and my father
waited by the car and smoked. He didn't need
a lot of things to remind him where he'd been.
Why do you want so much stuff?
he might have asked us. "Oh, Ed," I can hear
my mother saying, as if that took care of it.

After she died I don't think he felt any reason
to go back through all those postcards, not to mention
the glossy booklets about the Singing Tower
and the Alligator Farm, the painted ashtrays
and lucite paperweights, everything we carried home
and found a place for, then put away
in boxes, then shoved far back in our closets.

He'd always let my mother keep track of the past,
and when she was gone—why should that change?
Why did I want him to need what he'd never needed?
I can see him leaning against our yellow Chrysler
in some parking lot in Florida or Maine.
It's a beautiful cloudless day. He glances at his watch,
lights another cigarette, looks up at the sky.

"Lisa, hello! How are you doing in England? Remember, elevator is called a 'lift,' a mile is called a 'kilometer,' and botulism is called 'steak and kidney pie.'"

- The Simpsons

A + B + C = Success if, A = Hard Work, B = Hard Play, C = Keeping your mouth shut.

~ Albert Einstein

by Sharon Olds

By the time I was six months old, she knew something
was wrong with me. I got looks on my face
she had not seen on any child
in the family, or the extended family,
or the neighborhood. My mother took me in
to the pediatrician with the kind hands,
a doctor with a name like a suit size for a wheel:
Hub Long. My mom did not tell him
what she thought in truth, that I was Possessed.
It was just these strange looks on my face—
he held me, and conversed with me,
chatting as one does with a baby, and my mother
said, She's doing it now! Look!
She's doing it now! and the doctor said,
What your daughter has
is called a sense
of humor. Ohhh, she said, and took me
back to the house where that sense would be tested
and found to be incurable.

Gettysburg Address from Adam Gault on Vimeo.

The book had caught my eye a few times lately so I finally picked it up and I am so glad I did.

Neil White was a magazine mogul, philanthropist and an upstanding member of his church. However when he was caught "kiting" checks between banks to make his payroll, he was sent to prison for 18 months. Upon arriving at the prison, he learned that the prison shared its facilities with the last remaining leper colony in the United States. Neil befriends a handful of fellow inmates as well as leper patients and sets off on a quest to examine his own life and how he got "here".

The book is not a self-help book but I believe it will help a great many people who have forgotten what is truly important in life. This is a great book for someone who may have gotten off track in their life and is looking to chart a new course.

Highly recommended.

It's hard to wring my hands when I am busy rolling up my sleeves.

- Linda Geraci

by Philip Schultz

and there are a lot of leaves already.
I could rake and get a head start.
The boy's summer toys need to be put
in the basement. I could clean it out
or fix the broken storm window.
When Eli gets home from Sunday school,
I could take him fishing. I don't fish
but I could learn to. I could show him
how much fun it is. We don't do as much
as we used to do. And my wife, there's
so much I haven't told her lately,
about how quickly my soul is aging,
how it feels like a basement I keep filling
with everything I'm tired of surviving.
I could take a walk with my wife and try
to explain the ghosts I can't stop speaking to.
Or I could read all those books piling up
about the beginning of the end of understanding...
Meanwhile, it's such a beautiful morning,
the changing colors, the hypnotic light.
I could sit by the window watching the leaves,
which seem to know exactly how to fall
from one moment to the next. Or I could lose
everything and have to begin over again.

Remember how I have always bragged that Annie is a happy little cherub?

There is no such thing as a two-year-old cherub . . . This is pretty much what every 6:30am looks like around our house these days . . .

In fairness, Annie hasn't just gotten mouthy - she has also gotten more cuddly as well. I guess she is just becoming a tad more extreme. When she is mad or upset, she sets the windows a-rattlin' - when she is lovey and cuddly, she sets your heart a meltin'.

It's a fair trade.

Friends say three is worse . . . "threenager" is the term they use . . .

“Crucify him!” they shouted.

“Why? What crime has he committed?” asked Pilate.

But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify him!”

- Mark 15:13-14

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

- John 13:34-35

by Alicia Suskin Ostriker

I come from visiting my once-blonde
friend in hospital with non-Hodgkin's
lymphoma the chemo is working

we chat about other women's husbands
suffering from Parkinson's
we laugh cry hug we feel a little lucky

down the hall an attendant rolls a gurney
yellowish old man skull glares
from under a blanket

now how in hell do I get out
can't find elevator or stairs
despite red neon EXIT signs everywhere

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

"Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

- Matthew 25:31-40

One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

“The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”

- Mark 12:28-31

After 6 weeks on the road, we are finally home - and it feels like this . . . only instead of snow, it's 75 degrees and sunny . . . and it's Thanksgiving . . . not Christmas . . . and I'm not going to jail . . . yet . . . and I don't have four kids . . . and we are in color instead of black and white . . . other than that, it feels exactly like this . . .

by Mark Halliday

The connection between divorced fathers and pizza crusts
is understandable. The divorced father does not cook
confidently. He wants his kid to enjoy dinner.
The entire weekend is supposed to be fun. Kids love
pizza. For some reason involving soft warmth and malleability

kids approve of melted cheese on pizza
years before they will tolerate cheese in other situations.
So the divorced father takes the kid and the kid's friend
out for pizza. The kids eat much faster than the dad.
Before the dad has finished his second slice,

the kids are playing a video game or being Ace Ventura
or blowing spitballs through straws, making this hail
that can't quite be cleaned up. There are four slices left
and the divorced father doesn't want them wasted,
there has been enough waste already; he sits there

in his windbreaker finishing the pizza. It's good
except the crust is actually not so great—
after the second slice the crust is basically a chore—
so you leave it. You move on the next loaded slice.
Finally there you are amid rims of crust.

All this is understandable. There's no dark conspiracy.
Meanwhile the kids are having a pretty good time
which is the whole point. So the entire evening makes
clear sense. Now the divorced father gathers
the sauce-stained napkins for the trash and dumps them

and dumps the rims of crust which are not
corpses on a battlefield. Understandability
fills the pizza shop so thoroughly there's no room
for anything else. Now he's at the door summoning the kids
and they follow, of course they do, he's a dad.

Yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not openly acknowledge their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; for they loved human praise more than praise from God.

- John 12:42-43

Written by Ingrid Michaelson



Don't you worry there my honey
We might not have any money
But we've got our love to pay the bills

Maybe I think you're cute and funny
Maybe I wanna do what bunnies do with you if you know what I mean

Oh lets get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Lets get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Lets get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants
From way up there, you and I, you and I

Well you might be a bit confused
And you might be a little bit bruised
But baby how we spoon like no one else
So I will help you read those books
If you will soothe my worried looks
And we will put the lonesome on the shelf

Lets get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Lets get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Lets get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants
From way up there, you and I, you and I

Lets get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Lets get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Lets get rich and build a house on a mountain making everybody look like ants
From way up there, you and I, you and I

by Kenneth Rexroth

You are driving to the airport
Along the glittering highway
Through the warm night,
Humming to yourself.
The yellow rose buds that stood
On the commode faded and fell
Two days ago. Last night the
Petals dropped from the tulips
On the dresser. The signs of
Your presence are leaving the
House one by one. Being without
You was almost more than I
Could bear. Now the work is squared
Away. All the arrangements
Have been made. All the delays
Are past and I am thirty
Thousand feet in the air over
A dark lustrous sea, under
A low half moon that makes the wings
Gleam like fish under water –
Rushing south four hundred miles
Down the California coast
To your curving lips and your
Ivory thighs.

Anyone can be polite to a king, but it takes a civilized person to be polite to a beggar.

- Unknown

Keep in mind that the true measure of an individual is how he treats a person who can do him absolutely no good.

- Ann Landers

This is my Jack-o-lantern from this year. I was very proud.



And now on to sketching out the Thanksgiving menu!

by C.G. Hanzlicek

Just once I'd like to be a danger
To something in this world,
Be hunted by cops
And forced into hiding in the mountains,
Since if they left me on the streets
I'd turn the country around,
Changing everyone's mind with a word.

But I've lived so long a quiet life,
In a world I've made small,
That even my own mind changes slowly.
I'm a danger only to myself,
Like the daydreaming night watchman
Smoking his cigar
Near the dynamite shed.

As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”

This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:

“Say to Daughter Zion,
‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”

The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”

“Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”

The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

- Matthew 21:1-11

This was the gayst [sic] haloween [sic] ever

- Koby Kanowitz

When I was 18 years old, 4 buddies of mine were going to Disney world. They invited me but, being 18, I was broke. They offered to pay for me - I said "Yes".



We arrived safely, checked into our hotel and that was that.

The next day we explored Epcot (in clockwise fashion)and discovered that you could buy alcohol in each country - Margaritas in Mexico, Sapporo in Japan and so on (only America didn't serve alcohol - don't get me started).

The fact that I was only 18 didn't seem to pose a problem as there was 5 of us and that can amount to a significant bar-tab for a waiter who is willing to play dumb.

We circled the world a couple of times - always ending with crummy Molsen Golden in Canada.

We got caught in a monsoon rainstorm while in "Great Britain" and I found myself asking a British gift-shop worker when she got off work. We agreed to meet at downtown Disney. This is the one and only time I have ever asked out a complete stranger on a date.

We met, we ate, we drank, we did not kiss. She explained that she was actually from GB on a work visa and that when her stint was over at DW, she wanted to travel the states. I told her my buddy and I were renting rooms at a house in So. Cal. and that if she came out, I would show her around LA and Hollywood. And that was that.

6 Months later, I received a call from my Disney Dalliance saying that she would be in town on Thursday and could I pick her up at the train station? I was now living in a studio apartment by myself . . . .

I rented a twin bed for her, picked her up and we spent 4 glorious days together - days spent exploring the city, nights in my studio apartment.

by Cindy Gregg

On this first day of November
it is cold as a cave,
the sky the color
of neutral third parties.
I am cutting carrots
for the chicken soup.
Knife against carrot
again and again
sends a plop of pennies
into the pan.
These cents,
when held to the gray light,
hold no noble president,
only stills
of some kaleidoscope
caught being pensive...
and beautiful,
in the eye of this beholder,
who did not expect
this moment of marvel
while making an early supper
for the hungry children.