The Brats are now back to school/travelling/have moved abroad. The ankle is still broken – that is: it’s been operated upon, fixed with several spare parts, and is not to be used for walking for another 4 weeks. Yours truly is moving about in a borrowed wheelchair, as crutches leaves one with no hands. No feet is quite enough, thank you!

I insert a pic taken on the occasion – for the squeamish amongst you: please don’t squeam, just scroll down.

And now, one taken 5 days later, after op # 2. (scroll on, scroll on…)

That was one summer well spent, I can tell you! This happened 3 days before our scheduled holiday, so I was popular with the Brats for a while too. Luckily, I was cooped up in hospital for a week and a half, so I avoided the ritual beheading that is fitting in those circumstances.

We’ve sent #2 Brat off to Denmark, together with a carload of stuff, most of which had no practical use, but loads of sentimental value. I remember the feeling… She’s now installed with her mattress, tiny table and sewing machine in a big, empty room. She has a kitchen with applyances, and a bathroom, so the basics are looked after. She also has to manage her own finances. Did I mention that I remember the feeling?

#1 Brat left for Kenya on Sunday. She is 20, so I had left most of the investigating to her. The result was that I got a name and contact number from her co-travellers at the airport… Back home, I googled the name, and found an amazing woman, Sarah Ngotho, who runs the Joy Children’s home near Nairobi. Please take the time to read her story, and about the home itself. # 1 Brat will work there as a volunteer for 4 months, while paying for her room and board. I believe this is one way these homes (and there are many of them!) manage to keep financially afloat. She’s worked all summer to be able to do this. Anyway – she’s arrived, is safe and sound, and probably in the midst of the experience of a lifetime.

What else? Hubby has a new job. He’s released from the slave labor camp he was in, and has got a job for a company who helps people to get back into the workplace. The pay is OK, and the hours are wonderfully adapted to family life. The bonus is that our little farm may be involved too. We have toyed with the idea for some time, of offering the use of this place for rehabilitation through activity/farm work/socializing. It looks as if this is now going to happen. Fingers crossed.

# 3 Brat has started his apprenticeship to become a carpenter, and # 4 has just started her first year in our equivalent to High School. # 5 is in second grade, and # 6 has just turned 3, and is insisting that he’s being home schooled…

That’s about it from here, I think. Oh, yes – it’s been a wet one.

This is true for social security disability payments in this country, and it seems, also in the US. Here, David has to fight Goliath on his own, which David rarely does. He can’t afford a lawyer. In the US, there are instances that can help. Allsup is one such agency, and according to themselves, their success rate is phaenomenal.

I know people here who fall between the rules, and have to go to the social services for what they (and social workers) percieve as handouts, although they’re very really unable to provide for themselves. A service to counteract this is necessary in this country too. Even though you have to pay, there is a maximum fee, and it comes off the sum awarded. Which is a much better deal than using a lawyer who charges you continuously.

I believe in fending for yourself, but I also believe that if you’re unable to do so, you should have the right to a worthy existence. Without having to beg for it for years, while not being well in the first place.

That is: overweight women are more satisfied with their lives and themselves than their skinny sisters. Does that mean we can let everything slide, and indulge like mad, because it’ll make us happier?

Of course not. I’ve got my share of excess kilos, and I’m a happy soul, but I don’t think the two are linked, except for this:
1. Food is a basic commodity. If I were to deny myself everything that my body craves for the basic need of survival, I wouldn’t be very happy at all. Some of us are made that way: we look at food, and it sticks to our hips. All that wobbles isn’t chocolate and crisps… So – maybe part of my happiness is that I allow myself to eat enough.
2. I don’t think I would be very happy if I always felt inadequate, and that I needed to change things about myself constantly. To me, happiness is linked to being content with the way things are. I’m not saying one shouldn’t strive to better oneself, but if this turns to self-depreciation, it’s a waste of valuable time.

So: I’m happy per se., and not because of the fact that my BMI is above average. One could argue that I’m happy despite of it, of course, but I really don’t think BMI matters much. I’m sure my health would benefit from losing a few kilos, but I won’t subject myself to starving again, and I certainly won’t subject my family to a cranky, sour Mum, just because I’m denying myself the basics… The best diet pills are the ones that make you slim, fit and beautiful without a change of lifestyle, and they don’t exist.

I don’t think starving myself is consistent with quality of life. If this encroaches on my quantity of life, so be it. I may live longer with a few kilos less, or I may fall and crack my scull tomorrow.

The “new pagan God of materialism”, they call the poor guy, and go on by saying that the true reason for celebrating Christmas is forgotten in the mad rush to buy presents.

This could well be true. The thing is – how do you amend that by killing off Santa, if the mad rush continues anyway? Isn’t it better to let Santa  stay on as the God of materialism, than to give that role to the infant Jesus?

I’m all for reducing materialism for Christmas, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Halloween – you name it. Pagan and religious celebrations alike, they’ve all been “stolen” and corrupted by the retail industry. In our modern society, based on consumerism, we fall for it, too.

What about Santa then? Santa Claus (St. Nicholas)  was originally a Catholic saint. Not pagan at all. He became a saint partly because of his giving nature and generosity towards the poor. Christ was given symbolic gifts by the Magi – and so Luther (you know, the guy who invented Protestantism), who wasn’t keen on saints, moved the whole giving thing from December 6th (St Nicholas Day) to Christmas, so that people who would convert to his version of the Faith, wouldn’t miss out on a celebration. Nothing new here. It’s been done since Christianity was born. It’s highly unlikely, for example, that Christ was born in December. However, so as to not deprive the newly reformed Christians of their pagan celebrations altogether, Christmas was “put” near Winter Solstice (Dec.21st), when most pagan cults had a celebration anyway. Ingenious and wise. Less unwilling people to slay for the Cause.

My point. I think I had one somewhere. Oh, yes. The way we celebrate Christmas is a choice we make, along with the reason for celebrating. The tradition is, by nature, a mixture of paganism, Christianity, newish inventions (like the Christmas tree – invented in Germany in the beginning of the last century – didn’t that just become all the rage…) and the new God: Materialism. What we choose to make of it is up to us.

As for me, I happily embrace a mixture of all this, and I throw in one more thing: family values. Giving presents is a symbol, it’s something we do to please our loved ones, and that’s OK. I would do that without Santa – I’d even do it without Jesus. If presents were out of the question, I’d still find a way to celebrate.