“We saw Menopause the Musical here. It’s the kind of show you have to see with girlfriends.”
Hormones are interesting, don’t you think? When we are young, they make us do crazy things. And then, when we get older, they make us do even crazier things. In between they drive us nuts twice a month (ovulation and PMS
in case you aren’t as attuned to these times as I have become).
I don’t get it. I’m not technically going through the big change yet (no, not from Ellen to Oprah – I’m talking about menopause), but I already get night sweats. Last night they came on so strong I was actually sweating inside my ear, something I didn’t even know could happen.
What environmental factor, exactly, is all of this craziness supposed to be supporting? I mean, couldn’t we get our period without also wanting to shoot the person with a full cart who got into line at the grocery store just before we did? Wouldn’t you think God could have made it so that, in puberty, we could start to think guys are sort of worth our time without also needing to wear water-proof mascara in case our hair clip slips loose?
When my sister and I talked about menopause she assured me that until I went everywhere in flip-flops I had nothing to worry about. This seems like a reasonable, if somewhat terrifying, marker. What sort of extreme biological fluctuations must be happening inside women’s bodies for our body temp to go up so bizarrely high? The closest I might compare it to would be the way my body began to sweat and shake when I injured myself and was in severe pain. Could it be that our bodies are responding to exactly that sort of crisis?
The only sure conclusion I have reached is that Mary, the mother of God, must have been on the younger side of 40 when Jesus died. Because, I am sure that, had she gone through the wonderful joys of menopause before he died,
she would have made it a priority for him to get the system fixed.
“Poor Rudolph has a cold.”
. . . And I didn’t even know reindeer could catch colds. Apparently they didn’t realize he was sick because, with a red nose, it was hard to tell. The good news is that he is getting better and should be able to fly for Christmas.
I am beginning to think that I enjoy our trips to see Santa even more than my daughter does. Whereas she is focused on making sure he knows her wish list, I am filled with questions about what it is like to be the most famous, magical, person of all time.
Of course there are many ways for me to answer some of my questions. I can go directly to the source and look up historical information on St. Nicholas (http://www.stnicholascenter.org/pages/who-is-st-nicholas/) such as that he was born in AD 270 in the town of Patara, and is the patron saint of Bakers and Pawnbrokers.
My early childhood knowledge of Santa Claus came from the annual Holiday special, Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town, with Fred Astair and Mickey Rooney. I especially appreciated the way it explained why Santa does what he does, like come down the chimney and laugh his jolly laugh.
This year, though, as my daughter’s questions about Santa are becoming more complex I think it is time to introduce her to the all-time great movie, The Santa Clause, starring Tim Allen. So perfectly considered it
uses the magic of TV to demonstrate the magic of Santa; clarifying how Santa lives forever and that we do not need a chimney for Santa to visit.
And, by the way…. In case you still have any remaining questions. Santa is on twitter (@pnpSanta) and happily engages his followers. In fact, only this week he asked me to send him my Christmas list. Here it is: a brilliant idea for revising Molto Mayhem, a white Christmas morning, a jolly laugh for all of my fans, friends and family, peace in the Middle East, and…. A hankie for Rudolph.
Happy Christmas.... Ho, Ho, Ho
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