A little shy, are we?

The Canadian Federal Government has recently announced that all major airports will soon be fitted with security scanning devices to provide the highest, most technologically advanced screening prior to the 2010 Winter Olympics.

You step into a chamber which then photographs you with your arms either slightly drawn away from your body or in the air. The photograph can read under clothing - basically it's your x-ray spy goggles for Customs Canada.

This new technology is being embraced by security in the United States and has created a furor the likes of which haven't been seen in the travel industry since 9/11. US civil rights organizations are up in arms about privacy issues, violation of human rights, and pretty much everything else that can be used against this move, shy of the Holocaust.

While I would not consider myself a frequent flier, I have travelled enough and seen plenty to realize that if there is something that can be used to make flying safer, it should be implemented.

In short - my right to privacy is usurped by YOUR right to be safe. And I'm completely ok with that. While news broadcasts had to block out the "private" elements of the scan for public viewing, it's safe to say the operate gets an eyeful of each and every passenger over the age of 18. Immediately, opponents are concerned that the images will be saved. That there could be questionable employee viewing of said images.

How much worse is this image option than, say, patting down a passenger. It's gotten to the point that passengers can have a same sex employee pat them down for security purposes, but that's no guarantee they won't go home and have Sweet Dreams after squeezing the produce.

Let me clear this up for you right now. If you need to get your jollies by gazing longingly at my stretch marks, have at 'er. I will still give you that if you can assure me some ass won't get on a plane with anything other than hand sanitizer in his pants pockets.

Meet You in the Moonlight

Christmas had some truly special moments - family, friends and enough food to feed everyone on my street.

But one of the best moment was just me and Second Born Son.

Between Christmas and New Years I found myself sitting up way later than I should have been. I was punch drunk from the late night before - food, friends and laughter. The silence of the night was softly interrupted by SBS who was navigating down the hall for his nightly visit to the Salle de Bain. After I tucked him back in, I left his room and noticed the eerie light from outside and remembered that this was the night of the Blue Moon - defined as the second Full Moon of a month. A rare occurrence, it was drawn to my attention by a newscast earlier in the day.

I slipped back down to his room and whispered in his hear "Hey babe, do you want to see something really neat?" Instantly he was awake - more awake than he had been moments before.

I led him through the darkness of the house - having snapped off the lights and the TV to give the glow its most dramatic unveiling. But for some reason, it didn't impress the way I had hoped.

"Come here for a minute" I said, kicking off my slippers and sliding my feet instinctively into the winter boots I keep at the back door. I reached down, grabbed him around the waist and he reached for around my neck. It has been years since I've carried him. He's only 9, but he's big for his age and lifting him hasn't been an option.

But the moment was slipping away and I wanted him to see what I saw.

We stepped out into the night and the light shone on his face and his face shone on me. In spite of the wintery temperature, we clung to each other and he wondered in the beauty of the moon - brighter than any other he had seen and a truly unique shade.

I made a point of being very present in the moment and recorded it in my mind. Although it has only been a week, I've played it back in my mind dozens of times. I only hope he can remember...

After I returned him to his flannel sheets, a pain of guilt shot through me and I slipped into First Born Son's room. Selfishly I hoped I could relive the moment. I leaned over his form and whispered the same invitation, not once, but three times and was answered by a random elbow to the jaw.

The night was special for only two people that night. And one will never forget.

All I Want for Christmas

Just when I thought I was ahead of the Christmas rush, I find myself ridiculously behind.

Changing jobs provided me with a window of opportunity to get 90% of my shopping done. Nothing like a week in October to get the Christmas juices flowing. So by the first of December, I was calm as far as the shopping was concerned.

But I'm one of those crazy broads who still HAVE to do Christmas cards. Couldn't find a card I like after hunting high and low. While I don't consider myself a "Bible Thumper" I do like the idea of having a card that has some idea of the reason of the season - either angels, animals, nature etc. I'll pass on the flashy art deco cards - and unless the humor is particularly cutting and meaningful, I'll overlook funny cards.

With pen in hand, I sign each card for the entire family. No family shot this year - wasn't that organized between the health crisis and job change and bullying issues. And decided NOT to do a newsletter because although I think they have their place when you've actually had an eventful year "Suzy is doing just SUPER DUPER in Home Ec. class. We have high hopes for her!" the kind of news we've had this year really isn't uplifting. I've received the Debbie Downer Christmas Newsletters and I WON'T do that to others. If I care enough to give you a card, I'm not going to depress you.

"2009 was pretty much a crap year, starting with career strife in February, hockey issues that spilled over from 2008 and culminating in medical nightmares for The Big Guy and First Born Son."

Doesn't really scream MERRY CHRISTMAS now, does it.

I finally get them all sealed, including school photos for those who require them and leave them for The Big Guy to mail.

Then, I wait for it to begin.

Cuz really, the ONLY point in doing Christmas cards is to get them back. Like a perverse game of marbles - the more you get, the better you feel. And they slowly trickle in. My mother is traditionally the first one - hand delivered, usually at Second Born Son's birthday. We see or speak to each other regularly, so I don't expect a verse in her card.

But I must say, most of the other card senders must be suffering from what I'm afflicted with, because there aren't too many notes in these mailings. The odd "Hope to see you in the New Year!" but the majority are simply names under the preprinted verse. A couple don't even bother to write OUR names in the cards. Which really defeats the purpose entirely. If you don't want to acknowledge who we are, for God's Sake, save the tree they slaughtered to make the card.

This is the first year my sister hasn't sent me a card, and I will forgive her. After all, you can't expect someone who is starting their own business, just moved into a new home and planning a wedding in four months to actually think about greeting cards. Next year, entirely different matter..... :)

I also bake. Right now I only have three squares made, but in the past I made far too many, and we were eating soggy, freezer burnt squares until Valentines Day. My guys like them, but after a while the novelty wears off - you can only each so much marshmallow and graham crackers!

Perhaps all this Christmas expectation I have on myself and others is what has effectively killed my Christmas Spirit this year. I look at our tree - a real one, so the kids could experience it - and it's beautiful, but all I see is the haste we were in to put it up. The frustration with the new flooring not being installed for the Christmas Dinner we are hosting, and the lack of presents under it, because only half of them are wrapped.

It's only 7 days away, so Santa, please bring me some Christmas Warm Fuzzies!!!!

How many days until Christmas?

Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Where's the Tylenol? ~ National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

God Bless Us, Every One

Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas! No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here! We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny f**king Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of a**holes this side of the nuthouse!

-- Clark W. Griswold (Chevy Chase)

Know your limitations

This week the matriarch of the Duggar Family was rushed to hospital with a gallbladder attack during her 19th pregnancy.

Yup, you read it right NINETEENTH.

Now the Duggars have come under a lot of scrutiny for their ability to procreate. Ironically, this latest bundle of joy with only be months older than it's neice or nephew, as the eldest Duggar and his wife are expecting their first child later on in the year.

While some people critisize the logic of having so many children for a variety of reasons from impact on the environment to the mother's health, I come from a completely different place.

How do they stay sane?

I have two and thank God just about every day for them. But honestly, I would be bound and locked in a padded cell if I had to look after more than say 5 in a given day and it would be the end of the world as we know if it I had to care for them every day.

You see, I feel I have reached my limit. Baby factory closed at 2. Always wanted a pair, and was blessed to get two healthy ones, so we're going to leave it at that.

This fact was acentuated for me last week during Second Born Son's hockey team's Float Building Party. Half way through the festivities, I was barking orders like a drill sargeant as I couldn't contain myself any more. Watching the variety of antics and near miss opportunities for trips to emerg resulted in my overwhelming urge to provide some structure to the chaos.

Ironically, there were parents all around. No one was speaking up. Do I really care that I now have the label of Manager/Mommy from Hell? Not overly. No one got hurt. A couple of kids who needed to slow down a pace or two, did. We avoided any unnecessary nastiness and even managed to distribute some karma.

On the way home I envisioned myself as a mother of six kids, or even four. And my mind went blank. Not because I was thinking of menu options - but simply because the idea of being responsible for all those little lives is completely overwhelming.

So while in the Duggar household each little life is a "blessing". I will stick with the two I have.

And feel more than blessed enough!

That Helpless Feeling

I wish there was something we could do. Something we could say, something that we could go back and change or give forward to prevent what has happened.

There are very few times we are unable to take the simple step of helping someone in need - and when that happens, it is truly a horrible feeling.

Know that we are with you, supporting you and defending you. Keep fighting the good fight - you have a legion with you.

s