AN A.D.D. KIND O' DAY . . .

I was alone at the office today, holding down the fort for the half-day that chambers was open. After a month of feeling like I wasn't into the holiday spirit, I now am. PEK's sermon on Sunday helped to turn things around: keeping in mind that "the Christmas spirit" isn't something that I have to have to make people around me happy, or even to make myself happy, but something that should just be in me, knowing that the true celebration is Christ's birth, and thus the opportunity for everyone, including myself, to experience Perfect Friendship and unending grace and eternal life. So in that vein, I hope you all experience, this year and during this season, a deep peace and an honest significance.

It also helps that I'm looking forward to having Cheech home so we can lounge in front of the TV sleepily in our pajamas, buried under heavy Korean blankets ... and on Thursday, we will again be mauled and harangued and beaten at Connect Four by our adorably precocious cousins ... and on Friday, I'll head to the depths of Joisey to spend a couple of days with my L.O.L.'s, with whom I have now been causing mischief for over seven -- that's right, count 'em, SEVEN -- years! Joisey will never be the same after we're through with it ...

***

Some more unfocused thoughts ...

... John Kerry took out a $6million mortgage on his house to try to continue to fund his presidential campaign. Yikes...

... UNICEF says that right now, at least 11 million children under the age of 15 in sub-Saharan Africa have lost at least one parent to AIDS. ELEVEN MILLION CHILDREN. How can I even fathom that? ...

... one of Queen Elizabeth II's corgis was killed by her daughter Princess Anne's English bull terriers. At the risk of being harassed by PETA, allow me to just confess that I find that hysterically (and concededly, inappropriately) funny ...

... Mrs.G is heading out to the Land O' Danger on Friday morning for a week. Uh, that would be California, home of the earthquake and the specified terrorist threat alerts. Godspeed, Mrs.G -- you bring yourself and the Little Melon home safely, please ...

... Camp Capio is heading south for the winter, or at least for two weeks. Mom, Dad, twin infants and a crazed Jack Russell terrier who insists on sitting in the front seat of the car at all times. GOOD LUCK and safe travel to yous also ... and I promise not to tamper with your mail ...

... flights from Paris to L.A. and L.A. to Paris have been cancelled because of red flags that appeared on passenger manifests. Surface-to-air missiles have been set up in certain areas. Warplanes are on random patrol in select cities. What a world we live in. People, please be careful, please be safe, please have a great Christmas, and please, let's stop hurting each other ...

***

I dreamt last night that I used the stairs to get to chambers instead of the elevator, as I usually do. However, the stairs were narrow, steep and made of steel tubing, so that I had to watch my step and not look over the railing lest I start to feel unstable and unwittingly slip. All of a sudden, I was struck with a bad case of vertigo, and though I tried to look up towards the doorway through which I needed to exit the stairway, my eyes kept being drawn to the railings around me, the steps underneath me and the floor below me. Somehow, Hong appeared and coached me up the stairs and when I exited the stairway into what should have been the courthouse lobby, I had to walk through a luxury shopping mall to get to chambers. The mall was full of Japanese tourists and blaring Christmas carols. The CSO's were going nuts trying to maintain crowd control. And the only two things I could think in my dream were (1) "Why the heck are there Japanese tourists in my courthouse and why are they all shopping at Louis Vuitton?!" and (2) "Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up."

***

After opening our Christmas presents this evening, Omma engaged in a "look at the stretches I do before and after my daily walk on the treadmill" presentation. Calves, thighs, ankles, back, hips, arms, shoulders -- she showed us all of it, even getting down on the floor to show us her modified yoga moves. Her grand finale was a series of push-ups -- real push-ups, not the girlie on-your-knees push-ups that I can barely manage to do. Cheech and I stared agape, disbelieving that our mother was capable of such things. Appa, not to be outdone but also not ever having done a single moment of exercise in his life, got down on the floor himself and proceeded to do a few push-ups before mock-buckling to his knees and panting exaggeratedly. They both lay on the floor stretching -- or in Appa's case, pretending to stretch -- for the next ten minutes.

So let this be a lesson to all you grown children out there: do not allow your parents to imbibe more than two glasses of wine at dinner.

***

MERRY CHRISTMAS. God bless all of you, and may His peace and grace be with you tonight, tomorrow, and all your days.