Just in case you happened to have missed all the action in the midst of fending off requests for more brandy-laced eggnog from relatives who refuse to leave, a massive earthquake, scoring a whopping 8.9 on the Richter scale, centered off the coast of Sumatra struck in the early morning hours on Sunday. This underwater earthquake triggered more than a few tsunamis, or tidal waves, which have completely swamped parts of Sri Lanka, India, Indonesia, and the Maldives---just to name a few of the places in South East Asia that were affected.

The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies has put out an appeal for aid. They're looking for upwards of $6M US to help with the immediate needs of these poor people.

Keep the Spirit of Christmas flowing. Go here and donate what you can, if you can. The estimates of the number of dead range from ten thousand to eleven thousand, three hundred. No one knows for sure and they're not likely to know until they can deal with the bare necessities of taking care of the living.

The butcher's bill is always the last to be presented in situations like these. Help out if you are able, so things can get back to a state that resembles normal and the people there will be able to bury their dead.

UPDATEThey're now saying over fourteen thousand dead. Let's face it, kids: that number is only going to keep rising. If you are able, help. They could really use it.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:37 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 262 words, total size 2 kb.

Whereas His Purpledom happens to live in Chanhassen---a suburb on the western fringes of the Twin Cities---hence we have easy access to His Purpleness and are able to give first-hand accounts of all the glory and wonder of His Purple Highness' nuttiness...

...We, the brown nosers of the Star Tribune's Arts and Entertainment staff proclaim Prince to be The Star Tribune's Artist of the Year.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:53 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 69 words, total size 1 kb.

Since there seems to be a meme going on, I thought I would participate in my usual way---meaning I'm the last one on the boat, and no one will really care about my presence so it was probably a big waste of time for me to try and catch it. Whatever.

In case you were wondering who the random boy was, know that is no boy. That is me. Circa age six or seven, so yes, that means mid-70's fashion hell. Fortunately, I've gotten past cringing everytime I see this picture and am finally able to take it for what it is: a kid sitting on a dodgy Mall Santa's lap. Boy haircut aside, I realize I was actually pretty cute. This was pre-nearsightedness, so no spectacles. That wouldn't last much longer, but it is nice to know there was a time when all I needed to see was my own set of eyes, because I sure as heck don't remember it. Note that I was behaving myself, too: my hands are folded, like a little lady---not that you could tell with the haircut---so I was apparently trying to get in good with the Big Man. But, Ai-yi-yi, are my teeth horrible or what? What a mess! Thank you, my parentals, for dumping what was probably thousands of dollars on my choppers and hundreds of hours spent in the car driving me to the orthodontist, the oral surgeon and the dentist. My teeth are now straight and I really do appreciate all that trouble you went to so I didn't have to live with that set of teeth for the rest of my life.

What's the point with all of this? Hell if I know. It's Christmas, Theo! It's a season of miracles! So be of good cheer and call me when you get to the seventh lock!

Erm.

Sorry to channel Hans. I can't quite help myself around this time of year. Anyway...

Posting will be incredibly light over the next couple of days. You might get something. You might not. Check in just in case I decide to post a huge treatise, but I'm probably going to be drugged by egg nog, so don't count on it.

I have stuff to do around here and I best be getting on with it. Have a fantastic holiday. Eat well. Converse much. Hug and kiss often. And yes, that directive does include the cousin who cleans all the good booze out of your liquor cabinet. Drink just enough to make yourself pliable to the delights of the season, but no more than your usual maximum or those reindeer thumps on the roof will wake you out of deep sleep and into a horrible hangover. For Christmas Eve specifically, to quote myself from last Christmas, here's my recommendation:

Make the time tonight, between glasses of wine and obnoxious relatives, to go outside. Enjoy the peace and quiet, albeit temporary. Enjoy the cold for a few minutes. Breathe deeply and, for a brief moment, enjoy the icicles forming in your lungs. Shiver copiously. And then look up at the night sky, and if Rudolph's honker isn't too distracting, gaze at the stars.

Then, think of a young couple who on this night, roughly two thousand years ago, gave everything over to their faith and a God who demanded difficult things of them to fulfill His will. Know that they submitted without hesitation. Think of the gift they gave us this night and know that they gazed at the same stars you're looking at.

And know that the world is a wondrous place.

Have a very Merry Christmas, my beloved Cake Eater Readers.

Update: Rob, we need to talk about trackback, darlin'. That way, when you post adorable pictures of yourself and your wife on your blog, I'll know about it toute suite!

Wow. Has Movable Type spoiled me, or what?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:38 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 660 words, total size 4 kb.

1 Merry Christmas right back at you, Kathy! Have a wonderful and spirit-filled holiday. And have lots of fun next year, ok?

Posted by: Pious Agnostic at December 24, 2004 01:39 PM (8Dq9C)

2 I can't see the photo...... Forbidden You don't have permission to access /images/KSanta.jpg on this server. Additionally, a 404 Not Found error was encountered while trying to use an ErrorDocument to handle the request. Apache/1.3.33 Server at www.cakeeaterchronicles.mu.nu Port 80

Posted by: Richard at December 24, 2004 03:26 PM (BlvMr)

3 Richard, I asked the husband about this and here's what he said: It is possible that there is some kind of server error that we are not aware of. It's also possible that there is a short-term bandwidth restriction that has been run into. It's also possible that the ISP or host you are requesting to view the site through is on a blacklist that mu.nu maintains. My only suggestion since you're the only one we know so far of having this problem is to try again later and refresh your browser. Sorry...and don't worry, you're really not missing all that much Merry Christmas! P.S. The husband also says if you're using IE you should really visit www.mozilla.org and explore the alternatives

Posted by: Kathy at December 24, 2004 03:39 PM (E0v6D)

4 Also, it's possible that a firewall may be blocking access. I think. Seems like I've seen this problem before. But damn. This eggnog's good. Anyway. I think that picture is ADORABLE. Look at you, with the pretty grin and your hands all folded in your lap. What a sweet face! And I see the family resemblance from previously viewing the Cutest Redhead Ever™. Merry Christmas, my friend. To you and yours. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at December 24, 2004 05:03 PM (rKX9f)

5 Wild. I don't think James and I look anything alike His brother, however, has the same set of teeth that I did. I pray for poor Christi. James will love the fact that he's trademarked now. Heheheh. Merry Christmas!

Posted by: Kathy at December 25, 2004 11:30 AM (E0v6D)

6 I have a few pictures of me and Santa. But I'm so old that I'm dressed all cute in a little dress, hat and handmuff and the pictures are in black and white. Hope you had a Merry Christmas! We are all stirring and starting to REALLY pack now for our trip as we leave in the morning. I'm so glad we're going west rather than east. My kids don't fly back to the east until the 8th and the 15th so hopefully the planes will be back on track by then. More later when we return! Kitty

Posted by: K. Mason at December 26, 2004 09:21 AM (THsAz)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

Men, you can skip on by---unless you're looking for a present for the wife or girlfriend and would like a suggestion.

For my birthday last month, a friend gave me a girly-girl gift---bath salts in assorted flavors.

Now, I've always been more of a bubble girl, rather than a "Calgon, take me away!" sort. (Calgon made bath salts, in case you didn't want to touch that box in your mom's bathroom in case you thought it was tampons or something equally repulsive.) Bubbles keep certain body female body parts warm during the course of a bath, but also---and more importantly---keep the tub from getting grimy, too. I had a hard time seeing the purpose of bath salts other than to come out of the tub smelling like something that would probably make the husband gag. But, being the sort who will sit in a tub whenever she gets the chance, I gave them a whirl.

And you know what? I loved them. Mainly because they all lived up to their advertisements for softer, more moisturized skin, which is very important to me. (I'm a skin care junkie.) I particularly loved this one. While I felt ridiculous as I sat in a tub of milky water, I nonethless came to realize why Cleopatra bathed in asses milk: IT WORKS! Milk, for whatever reason, actually does condition your skin. I thought it was an old-wives tale, but I swear it works.

Give it a whirl if you're so inclined. It's a bit pricey---$6 for single bath. (I was checking to see if they sold it by the jar as the husband hasn't bought my Christmas present yet.) But it's so worth it.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:28 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 284 words, total size 2 kb.

It's currently zero degrees outside.

This will be the high for the day here in the Twin Cities.

It's positively amazing how fast dog poop becomes solid when it's this cold outside.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:00 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 34 words, total size 1 kb.

1 While not exactly a Christmas miracle, it's certainly something we can be thankful for. Frozen-solid dog poop is certainly better than the fresh-n-steamy variety.

Posted by: Drew at December 23, 2004 02:23 PM (rloI9)

2 The Feared Redhead is a native of the Twin Cities. Her parents will be here for Christmas. Hardly ever freezes here, but it does rain, and the doggie do's just sorta melt away under the deluge.

Posted by: Brian B at December 23, 2004 05:53 PM (CouWh)

3 You mean your dog goes outside when it's that cold? My dog just looks at me like I'm nuts when I open the door. "I'm not going out there, no way, no how, just give me the ole' potty and I'll even learn to flush." I have to go out with her. Brrrr! Hope it warms up so Santa can land on the roof without sliding off, Kitty

Posted by: K. Mason at December 23, 2004 07:25 PM (THsAz)

4 We don't have a dog, but friend's of ours do. Her name is Nessie and while her owners are gallivanting around California, we're part of a team that's looking after her. They just adopted her a couple of months ago and as she was abused, she's pretty skittish---hence no kennel. Today she actually protested when I wanted to go back in. I had to force her inside. She'd done her business---I sure as hell wasn't going to stay outside just to please her. Forget it. Only when you get past the subzero temperatures, do we get to the fun of our pooper scooper law

Posted by: Kathy at December 23, 2004 09:46 PM (E0v6D)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

In years previous, Minnesota Public Radio has presented The Nine Lessons and Carols---live---from King's College Chapel at Cambridge, on Christmas Eve morning. They're doing it again this year and I thought I'd give a heads-up in case anyone's interested.

If you've never heard this service before, it's a wonderful service full o' a variety of music. It's churchy---because it's a Christmas service. Duh---but if you truly love listening to choir music around the holidays, like me, this is the best you can get.

If you want to follow along, the program for this years service can be found here and you can pick up MPR's broadcast here. It begins at 9 a.m. (CST) tomorrow morning.

Happy listening.

*Sincere apologies and prostrations laid at the feet of Robert for swiping his title.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:11 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 139 words, total size 1 kb.

(click for larger image.)

Lest we forget...

Mount St. Helens: the little volcano that could.

{Image swiped from here. It's updated every four minutes or so, in case you're interested in when disaster will befall the Pacific Northwest again.)

Posted by: Kathy at 10:44 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 45 words, total size 1 kb.

Nice.

Australian anti-piracy operatives are seeking a freeze on funds donated to the International Red Cross by a Vanuatu-based trust fund run by Sharman Networks - maker of Kazaa P2P software.

The recording industry is asking the Red Cross to voluntarily freeze the cash pending the outcome of an Australian court case brought against Sharman by several record companies. The suit alleges that Sharman "has directly and indirectly infringed on the recording companies' copyrights, violated Australian fair trade laws and conspired to harm the music industry", according to a Wired report.

Michael Speck of AustraliaÂ’s Music Industry Piracy Investigations said: "We're preparing our approach to the International Red Cross. I believe this whole thing will come as a complete surprise to them, and weÂ’re only approaching them to stop them disposing of any funds."

Speck expressed his hope that the Red Cross would co-operate, adding: "It would be incredibly disappointing if we had to sue them."{...}

"It would be incredibly disappointing if we had to sue them."

Holy Delusion, Batman!

What's amazing is that these people seemingly have no idea how bad something like this could make them look. As if we already didn't know they were greedy to begin with, this just makes them look like monsters. Asking the International Red Cross---while biased beyond belief against America and yet another Geneva-based bureaucracy steeped in corruption---does manage to do some good worldwide.

The Australian recording industry is literally taking food out of the mouths of babes to feed their bottom lines.

{Hat tip: Tech Dirt}

Posted by: Kathy at 09:44 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 263 words, total size 2 kb.

DirecTV has a few music channels way up in the 800's. Since the Cake Eater Kitchen has no radio, but does have a TV wired into the DirecTV box, I'm currently tuned into their "Songs of the Season."

The music, on the whole, hasn't been too bad today. A couple of forays into the catalogues of Neil Diamond and Wayne Newton, but nothing I couldn't block out.

Except for right now.

Celine Dion singing John Lennon's "Happy Christmas."

Oh, gag.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:35 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 86 words, total size 1 kb.

Yeah, but it's still a blended scotch, not a single malt.

Hence it's automatically inferior.

If you're going to blow some coin on whisky, well, might I recommend this? Or this? Or this?

Blended whiskies are the spirit equivalent of Wolfgang Puck's cooking: sometimes the fusion works, but most of the time it doesn't and ends up being a short-lived curiosity. Single malts are much better in that you get the flavor of the blended whiskies without the fuss of blending, and if you want another bottle, well, you'll be able to find it because only rarely do purveyors of fine Scottish single malts go belly up or discontinue products.

And if you do wind up buying a bottle of the Macallan 18-year-old, spring for another, stash it away and open it up twenty to thirty years later. It will be the best whisky experience you've ever had. Trust me on this one. It mellows gorgeously in the bottle. I am not a cheap scotch date because this was how I first came to appreciate whisky.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:49 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 182 words, total size 1 kb.

Here is a summary of last night:

Sat on the sofa, knee elevated by means of big, plushy pillow with a bluish bag of manufactured gel which holds the cold well acting as the pickle in my knee sandwich.

I watched some TV, too. After struggling to stay awake during this stupid Nova special on string theory that the husband wanted to watch, we flipped over to FOX and caught the latest firing on that Richard Branson show whose title is too stupid for me to repeat here. I then perked up for House, because I like it. (Start watching this show, damnit. I don't want it cancelled! Do it for me, kids. Please?) Then I flipped around for a while (hours actually) and then read this.

And all this while I popped Advil.

And guess what? It's better!

The swelling has gone down, and while it's still achy and I'm limping, I believe I will, indeed, avoid another bout of physical therapy. Providing I don't go and do something incredibly stupid, like walking on ice. Keep your fingers crossed.

Thanks for all the well wishes and happy thoughts. I appreciate them.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:53 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 202 words, total size 1 kb.

I would still like to know why, if Ghaddafi is the supreme ruler of Libya, is he only a measly colonel?

Shouldn't he be a general or a marshal?

Makes no sense. Then again, what about Ghaddafi does make sense?

Posted by: Kathy at 10:34 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 50 words, total size 1 kb.

Fausta, who conveniently is able to watch France 2---and who can understand it, too---has the scoop on the release of French journalists Georges Malbrunot and Christian Chesnot, who have been held hostage in Iraq since this summer.

What's interesting is that there are some internal rumblings that appear to be variating from Chirac's "Diplomacy is Job One" line. They're doubting themselves, in other words, because the government had, as best as I can figure, nothing to do with the release.

I'll be interested to hear about their experiences when they finally speak out. If their release is just another product of Fallujah, well, I'll be expecting a big ol' "Merci bou coup!" from Blaque Jacques.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:20 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 121 words, total size 1 kb.

I've been waiting for someone to deliver a slap of the demoralizing sort upside the very fat head of James Wolcott.

Lileks delivers.

Be gone.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:56 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 27 words, total size 1 kb.

Ok, so here's what the Worldwide Fund For Nature says you shouldn't buy me for Christmas.

So, no ivory. No caviar. No Crocodile. No tiger rugs. No turtle shell products. No shatoosh (don't really need another shawl anyway. I like my pashmina just fine, thanks.) No coral. No cactus. And no energy inefficient electronics.

I'm ok with all of that. Honestly. No hassles here. I'm all about protecting the environment when it doesn't put me out too much.

But that doesn't mean you're off the hook yet, kids. Because these weren't on the list. Crocodile bad. Alligator Good.

I will be expecting a few pairs to be under the tree come Christmas Day. I particularly like the sandals, the halter slingbacks and the slides.

And all of them in black. Size 8 1/2 AA.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:49 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 138 words, total size 1 kb.

Well, at least not my mom.

The rest of you can decide whether to look or not.

All I really have to say is tee hee.

Make sure to get in on the election year action and check out the patriotic donkey and elephant.

Ok, there's your cheap thrill for the day. Move along. Nothing to see here.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:28 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 72 words, total size 1 kb.

Joints suck.

Particularly those of the overly bendable type.

About fifteen years ago, when I was a freshman in college, my roommate and I had a bunk bed in our room in lieu of a loft. Lofts cost money and you had to find someplace to store them over the summer. Hence, being the cheapskates we both were, we opted for the free bunkbed the university provided. Of course, this bunkbed didn't come with a ladder, so everytime I wanted to get into my bed, I had to move my desk chair next to the bed and jump up from there. This involved making a fortunate grab of the mattress so I didn't slide back down again, but could rather pull myself up into bed.

I think you might be getting where I'm going with this. One night I was slightly intoxicated and returned to my room. After preparing myself for bed, I tried to perform this maneuver. Alas, however, the fortunate part of the grab wasn't so fortunate: I missed and landed in a completely wrong manner. After my roommate and her boyfriend expressed how ticked off they were about me waking them up with my fall, they then realized I needed help to get up into bed, and got me there. But not after locating some ice for me. My knee (and this was back in the days when I had really knobby knees) had swelled up to the size of a really oversized grapefruit and I was in pain.

The next day, at student health, they told me that I'd dislocated my kneecap, gave me a brace, a refreezable ice pack, and that I had to stay off of it for the next ten days and was to take lots of aspirin. It would heal up on its own, they said, it just took time. Ok. I did what they told me and I was fine.

Fast forward six years later: I'm trying to learn how to play tennis, am taking lessons at our health club and---again---land wrongly after volleying the ball back. (It was a great hit, too!) The knee swells again, I think it's a dislocation, again, and I'm right, but this time it's worse. The doctor confirms my impression, a week before I'm to be a bridesmaid in the sister-in-law's wedding---where I have to wear a floaty dress and high heels for hours on end. She puts me in an immobilizer, signs me up for physical therapy, and gives me a prescription for 800mg of Advil, four times a day. The immobilizer sucks, but it does work. I just have to make some adjustments. I have to learn how to operate the pedals of the car with my left foot. We live in a second floor apartment and stairs are a bitch when you cannot bend your knee, not to mention, I have my then-business to run and this involves many daily trips through the metal detector of the courthouse. The metal rods in the immobilizer set that fucker off more times than I can count.

After two months of physical therapy and then being bitched out by a succession of orthopedists who tell me that I haven't been doing my therapy (I DID!), it finally heals up. I'm done with it. Or so I think.

The husband still worries about me blowing it out again. He's afraid that one of these times I'm actually going to go where I haven't gone before and will shred the dreaded ACL. This is a valid concern of his: since the last time, I've had a couple of near misses, where I will land wrongly or slide on ice and I will feel the kneecap actually lift and slide off whatever is supposed to be holding it down. While this is disconcerting and painful, I haven't torqued my knee as badly as I did back then.

Why am I talking about all this? Well, I'm currently sitting at the dining room table, my right leg propped up with an ice pack on top of my right knee, and I'm praying for everything to go back to normal. Yep. That's right. I might have done it again. This is one of those things where it's not apparent right off the bat that I've goofed it good.

Yesterday, we had an extended period of freezing rain which left everything as slick as snot. Steps, sidewalks, entryways...you name it, they're all covered in a particularly consistent coat of ice. Yesterday, I was very, very careful of walking around and was fine. Today, however, we got a light dusting of snow on top of the ice. This is when I get in trouble: the snow provides traction---most of the time. Then there's always the odd moment of slipping, where my heart will jump in my chest because I'm afraid I've torqued the knee again, and the happy moment after I realize I haven't done it. This morning, I was going over to the Doctor's and ML's residence, for my pooch-attendance shift. While they're slurping the fruit of the grape at lots of different locations across Northern California, all of their friends are pitching in to take care of Nessie. I'm bundled up, I manage to negotiate the steps and sidewalk and, feeling fairly confident about my walking abilities, step off the curb to cross the street and...whoops! There it went. The kneecap slid in that disconcerting, heart stopping manner. I walked forward, hopeful, and then breathed a sigh of relief...it was fine. I walk the dog, and as she needs some exercise we make our way around the neighborhood, despite the fact it's about ten degrees outside. I make it through unscathed, my knee throbbing slightly. But I'm fine.

Until I go to Target, and not five steps from the damn car, I slide and there it goes again.

Am not happy about this and am saying Hail Marys every other minute so that I'm not completely out of it for Christmas, because I have a shitload left to do. It's really achy, although it hasn't swollen up too badly...so far. So, I might just be in luck. So, if you've got an extra holiday prayer in your heart, offer it up for my knee, would ya? I'm thinking I should be ok if I watch it over the next couple of days. But if I slide again, well...thar she blows.

Another dislocated kneecap and months of muy painful physical therapy is not what I want for Christmas.

Posted by: Kathy at 04:25 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 1095 words, total size 6 kb.

Wherefore art thou, Martini Boy?

I miss you.

Would you please start writing again. Sometime soon?

Or I'm going to have to delink you. Not to throw a threat out there first thing, but hey, a girl's gotta have her standards.

It's nothing personal, it's just that I try not to give permalinks to bloggers who---ahem---don't bother blogging. If you've got other stuff going on, hey, great. Just let me know, and I'll keep the link up there and will wait for your return. But this, "I'm here. I'm not here. I'm here. I'm not here." stuff is killing me.

Like most people, I have a particular order in which I have my bookmarks set. I do this so my sleep-addled brain can have a chance to absorb the caffeine I feed it whilst I surf, like an automaton. Every morning, I sit down at the computer, read the comics, then Sullivan, then Lileks and then you. You are above Goldstein on my morning surf-fest. You are above Catalano. You are even above the Instadude in the batting order.

To put it bluntly, your absence has been fucking with my surfing chi.

I simply cannot get into Michele's stuff, when I haven't had any Vodka with my cheerios. Goldstein just doesn't seem as funny if you're not around to suck up to him. Why, I can't even really take Instapundit seriously if you're not on the case first. I feel incomplete. A shell of my former self. Unhappy and unloved, etc.

Could we please have an end to this in absentia business?

Posted by: Kathy at 10:47 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 274 words, total size 2 kb.

Oh, man. This is funny. I can only imagine that the irrepressible Mummies of England were either laughing their fool, yet well-coiffed, heads off or were so scandalized that they just slapped the telly off.

There really isn't an in-between on this one.

Shamelessly pilfered from Margi, who, under the circumstances, could not have titled her post any better.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:10 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 67 words, total size 1 kb.

Yeah!

Posted by: Kathy at 09:56 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 11 words, total size 1 kb.