The Party's Over... 'Cuz the Lights are Going Out...

No more incandescent light bulbs? What? As if that’s not bad enough, I heard this from Doug La Malfa’s Facebook page. This cave I’ve been living in really is insulated from the outside world.


For those three or four of you who might be as sheltered and clueless as I apparently am, here’s the deal:

In 2007, George W. Bush signed some sort of energy bill which, in part, begins phasing out incandescent light bulbs. Those are the non-funny-shaped ones. The ones we’ve taken for granted all our lives. The federally-mandated phase out does not start until 2012. However, California, in order to meet its own energy reduction mandates, is beginning the phase out of 100-watt bulbs effective January 1, 2011.

Now, 100-watt bulbs, I can see eliminating. It’s like a thousand splendid suns in someone’s living room. But on the heels of that, my beloved 60- and 75-watt luminaries will also become contraband. I’m getting to that age where time and gravity have collided with good looks and grace, causing a wrinkling Armageddon across my face. Make-up only does so much. I rely on other people’s poor vision and good lighting to compensate for the rest.

And I’m left to wonder, what the heck was so important in the past three years that I missed this impending train wreck?

What Would Jesus Buy? Or, Why I’m Kicking the Eight Pound Baby Jesus Out of the Manger

So, for the past several years, I’ve ranted about the commercialization of Christmas, and pleaded with friends and loved ones to put some magic back into this time of year. No amount of love from those I adore warrants a year’s worth of consumer debt, worry, stress, or consternation.

Instead of buying me a sweater, share a cup of tea with me. Instead of making me some trinket, spend time making memories with me that we both will be unable to erase from our legacies.

This year, the ‘back to basics’ epiphany has hit me this way:

Going broke buying gifts to prove you love me as much as you love the eight-pound baby Jesus, is like giddily leading Herrod to the Christ child. When we buy what we can barely afford, we are laying all our tribute at the feet of Target, WalMart, Macy’s, and Sears. If we’ve converted all our worth into commercial gifts, what do we really have left of value to share with one another, or with Christ?

This year, I challenge you to put aside your notions of tangible value on loved ones. Cast off your warm and fuzzy notion of the baby Jesus in the manger. Consider instead, bravely embracing the 23 year-old, 165 pound Jesus. Not much is written about him. I suspect that he was out and about, eating locusts, doing more of that 'I’m the Son of God' 40-day fasting plan, and generally being tempted in all manner of men. And at 23, he was likely bemoaning that day’s equivalent of walking the life of a man-child. He was finally able to go out and drink with his buddies, but not quite old enough to be getting a good driver insurance rate, due to his age.

This year has taught me more about faith than any other time in my life. Facing death makes one reconsider a lot about life in general, and personal circumstances in particular. I believe that in Christ’s young manhood, he had to be conflicted about his life path, knowing that he was headed for a road of rejection, condemnation, and betrayal, all in the name of the family biz. Still, we’re told, he counted it all joy. He was steadfast in his faith.  That's what I want for all of us in the coming year-- a steadfastness that helps us endure challenges with joy, and a gratitude that makes us drink in every moment of goodness that comes our way.

Instead of casting our lot with the cute and cuddly little bugger in the manger, let’s worship the guy who went through who-knows-what, for you-know-who (us). Let’s emulate the dude who was strong enough physically, and mature enough emotionally, to move forward through the tough times, knowing that doing so gave us all a foothold to joy unspeakable.

Let’s trust one another, hold each other up, love one another in the non-trinket form; in ways that better sustain us, better propel us, and better bond us to one another in the coming year.

Accounting for 2010

Let me tell you where this year has gone…


Divorce.

Salt Lake City.
The wintery star-filled skies of Wyoming.
Denver.
Albuquerque.
Winslow.
New Tattoo.
Matching piercings with Katy.

Rode the last Sunset Dinner train.
Golden Gate Bridge.
Drove up the coast.

Ate Well. Vintage. Rubicon. Tapas. Yama Sushi. Kobe. Mt. Fuji. Penny’s Diner. Tasty Mouse. Trader Joe. Waffle House. Black Eyed Pea. The Fort. Minerva’s. Taco Trucks. Quizno’s. Maria’s. Anette’s. Dad’s.  Rick's. P.F. Chang’s.

Said hard good-byes.
Said sweet hellos.

Made choices.
Packed.
Loaded.
Stored.
Hauled.
Moved to Denver.

Found life again.
In a basement.
And atop a 14,000 foot mountain.

Manitou Springs.
Broadmoor Hotel.
Colorado Springs.
The Continental Divide.
Rode my motorcycle through the Rockies.

Stayed in the town that inspired South Park.

Saw the Nuggets play a few times.
The Rockies with Scott.
Bon Jovi with Josh.

Walked the beach at Santa Cruz with a loved one.

Barack Obama.
Drove myself back to California to face some unknowns.

Aspen.
Hotchkiss.
Durango.
Four Corners.
The Navajo Nation Rodeo.
Colorado City.
Zion National Park.
Las Vegas.
Death Valley.
Tonopah.
Mina.
Reno.
Susanville.
Burney.
Redding.

Bare Naked Ladies with Maria

Lost 70 pounds.

Cheryl, the loaner mom.

Nevada.
Utah.
Wyoming.
Colorado.
New Mexico.
Arizona.
Mexico.
Oregon.
Illinois.
Texas.
Washington, DC

Migraine.
Vomit.
Diarrhea.
Cramps.
Nightmares.
Bleeding.
Pain.
Non-stop Pain.
Jumped out of a plane.

Found clothes that fit well, simply by changing the way I see myself.

Found peace through the harshest of circumstances.

John Mayer with Maria.

Loved.
Lost.
Fought.
Won.
Been sick,
Been well.

Gained.
Lived.
Died.
Wept.

Lost fear.
Lost hair.

Found courage, faith, and grace.

Learned yoga.
Danced with a man under a warm summer sky.
Laughed, like I haven’t since I was a kid.

Drugs.  Prescriptions.  Medical Care. 
Medical Bills.
Insurance.
Insurance Companies.

Found joy in the simplest of things—a flower. A phone call. A hug. A sunset. A day without a headache.

Laughter.

Met with dignitaries.
Awed in the presence of the poorest of folk.

Connected with positive energy.
Disconnected from the negative.

Found liberation through drawing of boundaries.

Been broken.
Been made whole.

Walked on the beach, while questioning my existence.
Been reminded in the most humbling of ways that I am valued, loved.

Written more in the past year than I have in ages, reminding me of where passions reside.
The environment.
The Holy Spirit.
Communities.
Big Foot.
Polygamy.
Health. Sickness. Death. Dying. Moving on.
Serenity.
Justice.
Peace.
Grants. Reports. Spreadsheets. Reconciliations.

Made new friends.
Found old friends.

Sat still.

Been humbled by the help of others.
Been inspired by those who heroically endured much.

Met lots of troopers.

Stretched.
Grew.
Been tested.
Slept.
Dreamed.
Hoped.
Loved.
Prayed.
Kicked Ass.

Possessed the courage and audacity to make it all so.