Sunday, March 31, 2002

Happy Easter, for what it is worth

In New England, Easter is dawning dark and gloomy weather-wise. It is said to improve by this afternoon. It is dark and gloomy in other places on the globe, and not in the meteorological sense. The ongoing war in Afghanistan, which seems to be largely not interesting to the general public anymore, and the daily we kill you/you kill us barrage of suicide bombers with retaliatory bomb strikes in Israel.

Nothing ever changes. Does it?

Sorry to wake up with a gloom over my head. I'm just tired of the same old shit universe-wise and waking up in it every day kind of pisses me off.

I do believe in miracles, that the unthinkable can happen... a dead man is brought to life by a friend, that friend is arrested for this "crime" and many others, is mocked, crucified, dead and buried. That dead man rises from the grave and says "yup, what I've been sayin' all along is true kids... thanks for your support" and ascends into heaven. The USA hockey team wins a gold medal in 1980. Someone fell in love with me, and I had kids. Well that's not a miracle per se... it just was something I never thought would happen.

Miracles. I believe in them. I believe that things aren't randomly ordered and we're all subject to just loving each other or kicking each other's asses. I believe that God himself is an active participant in what goes on in this horrible little world. I believe he reaches out and does the unexpected and greatly appreciated task on occasion. I'd just like to see one happen somewhere on this planet, it's been a while since a nice big one.

Two Harvard professors (I presume one is Jewish, the other Muslim but I'm not sure) want Arafat and Sharon to read the same peace speech at the same time next Sunday. They don't have to look at each other, they don't have to acknowledge that the other is doing the same... these two professors think that if they do this, that the peoples beneath the leaders will stop fighting and embrace.

I somehow doubt it, as long as there are rogue, angry men (and women, the most recent was an 18 year old girl) who strap bombs onto their bodies and walk around looking for an opportunity to teach Jews that you better not fuck with Palestinians. Then the Jews turn around and air strike some building of the Palestinians'. Then a bomber says, "oh yeah, jerk offs, I'll blow your Seder dinner off the face of the earth" and hits a restraint filled with tourists. Then, the Israelis all get in their jet fighters...

Even if the Israelis completely stopped retaliating to the individual strikes, the individuals will never stop blowing stuff up. There will always be a few disgruntled residents who will continue to blow themselves and others up to send messages to the Jews. I hate to say it... but some people will never accept peace. There will always be some sort of caveat that has them continually unhappy. And they'll blow stuff up to express their dismay.

It isn't as easy as reading a peace promise in unison on TV. These Harvard stuffed shirts need to go soak their heads.

And the media doesn't make me any more happy by saying the "region is on the brink of war..." and "for the last 18 months things have been escalating to war..." Guess what guys, for the last 4000 years the region has been on and off and in the brink of war. The last 18 months nothing. What, 19 months ago things were nice there? People got along? Arabs and Jews strolled hand and hand down the desert primrose paths of joy that the rest of the planet (almost) seems to walk on... like a Canadian embracing his southern neighbor and sharing some Labatts? No. The place has been a living hell hole, a smoldering pot of unmixable content. And what is to be done?

Hell, I'm no diplomat. I wish they'd just stop it. Figure their shit out and get along. I don't want the United States to swoop in there and take control. I have no suggestions. I have no ideas.

Man, I need some coffee.

Anyway, I read a journal by a guy, "the Big Kahuna" aka Bob, who is living in Israel right now, and scheduled to go to Macedonia shortly. He is some sort of American Diplomat employee... not 100% sure of his job title. Sounds like he can't wait to get out of there... and I pray for him and the Jews and Arabs surrounding him daily. He doesn't write a lot of detail about what is going on there, but knowing that there is a human voice in all that mess kind of makes me smile... I just hope he is kept safe and able to go from one fire to the other (Macedonia is no cake walk either).

I doubt until the Messiah returns (or, if you are Jewish, shows up for the first time) and wipes the world clean that this "escalating conflict" will sit on the brink and fall into it once or a dozen more times. There is nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. And that's just crappy. So happy Easter folks. For what it's worth, I'm not feeling all sunshine and joy this year. Easter is usually my very favorite holiday, the concept of resurrection, the welcoming of spring and change, the warmth in the air... it's all dim and grey right now. I'm sorry to be such a big poop.

He has risen, he has risen indeed. That's the enthusiasm I can muster right now. Okay. Moving on. It's Easter. Christ rose from the dead, I can rise from the gloom. Do you believe in miracles?

It's early yet, and I am tired. Heard the guinea pig squeeeeeeealing this morning and went out into the living room at 6:30am to discover Geoff trying to make her fly. He holds her in the air under her front "armpits" I guess you can call them, and spins around.

Geoff enjoys feeding pigpigpig.
I wish she'd bite him so he'd be more afraid of her...
but she's so docile and sweet and only squeaks
in her own defense...

I have to go through this every morning with him. Now my goal is to make him be gentle with the pig, seeing as I can't get him to NOT get her out of the pen first thing in the morning when he gets up. He's unlike anyone in this family -- up at 6 or 6:30 on a daily basis. Rarely does he sleep past 7. The rest of us, Doug, Jess and I, will sleep until noon if not stirred. Where'd this kid come from?

Last night at about 8:30 the kids were coloring Easter eggs and I realized I had nothing for their baskets.

the white lines on the eggs are white crayon.
The kids wrote things on them before dipping.
they're really cute.

Duh? I do this every year. I said something to Doug and he rolled his eyes "You do this every year" he commented. Yeah, well, you could think of it once in a while too, damnit. So I ran to the neighborhood drug store and bought a few things. I had plastic tacky grass here from last year so I set two little baskets up and hid them in the house.

One in the shower, the other is under the living room table. Geoff hasn't noticed either... I asked him if he was going to look for his and he told me that he wanted to wait for Jessica to get up.

She has to be woken up sometime in the next hour to be ready on time for church.

wake up, wake up! find your easterbasket!!!
she looks thrilled.

So insanity will ensue in no time. Geoff is watching Playhouse Disney... we just got the Disney Channel for no reason on our cable. And it's kind of good because most of the shows he's never seen before, so he's psyched to have something new to watch instead of the same old episodes of the Powerpuff Girls or Blues Clues.

When the kids were coloring Easter eggs, they were so cooperative and good... it made me smile. That's a miracle right there I guess.

And my mom would be proud of me. I hate eggs in just about every way, shape or form. The smell of them makes my skin crawl and I feel the inner lining of my throat grow tight and bitter. My whole house stinks of hard boiled eggs right now, and will only stink worse when the other 75% of this family starts mao-ing on them. Ugh.

A lot of people can't understand my anti-egg stance. I cook/bake with eggs. But that's totally different. In mixes or recipes, the eggs become unsmelly entities that meld with other product to produce something happy. Fried, hard boiled, sunny side up, poached... they smell like death. My refrigerator stinks of hard boiled eggs. My living room has an acrid tang in the air, of eggs and cider vinegar used to color the damn things. I feel like hurling. Maybe that's my problem. I'm not upset about the world conflicts and the lack of a sense of God's presence in the world at large... I'm grossed out by eggstench. Yeah. That's the ticket.

Happy Easter y'all... if you celebrate. May there be some small miracle in your life, your day, that shows you the love of God, and the gift of new and everlasting life. That's all I can hope for all of us right now.

Anyway... I have to shower and get things moving here. The Geiger household is a quiet one first thing in the morning... hate to wreck that. But it's Easter. Christ rose from the dead, the rest of us can get up and dressed.

After another cup of coffee.

P.S. Just wanted to note that Jessica found her Easter basket and said "thank you Mom," when she sat on the couch with it.

"What are you saying thank you to me for," I said... "the Easter Bunny brought that to you."

"You're the Easter bunny." she replied with a smile.

"I am?" I pretended to be surprised.

"Yeah and you are Santa Claus too. And the Tooth Fairy," she bit into a piece of chocolate.

"When'd you figure this out?" I asked with a smile.

"I've known for a long time now," she answered.

"Does it bother you that I've lied to you and told you that these things are real when they were just me?" I asked, kind of worried.

"No... it makes it special."

"Do me a favor," I leaned to her, "don't tell your brother. I want him to figure it out on his own too."

She smiled, "He'll never figure it out."

I didn't think you would either, girl. Happy Easter and good job playing along for your brother's sake. She has been doing a good job of that... "Geoff, we have to go to bed or Santa won't come!" or, "Geoff! The Easter Bunny is going to leave stuff for us in the house tonight so we have to go to bed!"

The mark of a good big sister is that she perpetuates the myths for the littler ones. God love her. Perhaps that's my miracle today.

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