Daddy, I'm not ready for my closeup.

At some point, there will be a patron saint for bloggers.

Or at least some Catholic is going to find one.
I think it is one of the things I really like about being Catholic - having a huge squadron of saints available to cover specific geographic areas, take care of particular issues, or protect specific professions.
Yes, you could simply have a personal relationship with God and Jesus, but isn't it nice too to have an additional friend who can help to put in a good word for you with the Almighty? Someone who has a proven track record with said deity?

Yesterday, Pope Benedict XVI issued
this message, with his urging that journalists be responsible and search for truth. Papal announcements aimed at my profession don't come everyday, so I was curious.
Then I found the kicker: that the pope released this message to coincide with his feast day for the patron saint of journalists:
St. Francis de Sales. I never knew there was such a person.

Now, truth be told, another Catholic website said that journalists can also turn to St. Paul the Apostle, and St. Maximillian Kolbe.

But In the meantime, I'll be searching for a little St. Francis de Sales statute to stand next to my laptop. Seems the only wares available are little medals, though eBay has a relic of his on sale at the moment.

Lomography

Anyway, I think that's what this is called.
Here's the first round from our latest gizmo - a camera with 4 separate lens, aimed differently and timed differently.
(The boy says, "Thank you, Tita.")

It is an interesting concept. A new art to try to tackle. More experimentation to follow, to be sure.

Shock and awe

If you know my son well enough, you know he's a bit of a ham. A karaoke kid. Talkative, emotive, a born-again vaudevillian, truth be told.
So you'd think that bringing him to see clowns and trapeze artists and acrobats and an elephant would stir up some craziness?
No. Instead, I get shock and awe at the circus.

My son sat silent, his eyes intensely trying to catch every single moment of the live performance, his mouth agape.
There was very little conversation, as his attention was rapt during most of the show. The reaction was the same for the acrobats, the trapeze artists, the reptile show, the motorcycle daredevils, the elephant. (Yes, there was only one. We had the downsized version - only one ring of the three-ring gig).
He laughed a bit at one of the last clown routines and he pointed at the gigantic snake they pulled out of a box.
But most of the time, my son was completely absorbed in the experience.

Inspiration

I give a big 4-STAR recommendation to the Long Way Round, the documentary series profiling Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman's round-the-world motorcycle adventure.

It was a joy to watch these men cross the globe, rough it, and come through against challenges that might stop a less adventurous pair. But I especially loved their sense of spirit, their appreciation for cultures, their openness to try new things, and their outreach to the less fortunate children that find themselves under UNICEF's care. And in return for all that, they got gorgeous vistas and unforgettable experiences that touched them deeply.

The Mongolia trek was the highlight of the trip, for me, especially since I have become quite fond of Tuva (for a refresher see this and this).

It was also nice to know that Ewan McGregor, whom I really adore as an actor, is essentially a nice guy - intelligent, open-minded. And he's a family man.

The 7-part series is also a wonderful companion to the book (see my prior review).

Imagination

Part of the fun of having a 3-year-old is playtime that knows no bounds, that has few rules.

In fact, only 2 major guidelines seem to exist, both of which seem inspired by his own understanding of the universe.

First, whenever you have a smaller and a larger version of an item, the smaller is automatically the baby and the larger is the mommy. If there are 3 of an item, then the biggest is the daddy and mommy reverts to the medium sized one. And the littlest one will invariably act like a baby, i.e. cry and cry requiring mommy or daddy to pick him up and comfort him.

This works well for sea turtles and bears, but becomes really odd when your son has 3 different sizes of Yoda and Darth Vader. The Star Wars purist in me tries not to make too many faces.

The other major guideline is that there is no aggression among toys tolerated and the aggressor will get a timeout.

So then you end up with fascinating little play scenarios like this:

The big alligator (of course my Florida son has such a thing) was walking through the room, came across baby Darth Vader and proceeded to give him a swipe. Baby Darth Vader started to cry and Daddy Darth Vader came to the rescue, cuddling his little Sith Lord and scolding alligator fiercely. Then alligator had a timeout.

Contagious

My beloved husband just turned 42 today and unfortunately, he is feeling his age acutely, suffering a muscle pain in his back.

For the past few days, he's been sitting on one of those vibrating massage cushions to ease his pain.

Then a funny thing happened.

My 3-year-old boy complained of back pain too, and needed to have a sit in the massage cushion.

Then Elmo, that lovable red monster, had some back ache too, and he needed to sit in the massage chair.

And even Monkey, who has long been the favorite among the stuffed animals, he too suffered some back pain and needed some massage time.

I never knew back pain could be contagious.

Manigong Bagong Taon!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Hope 2006 treats you well.
In the meantime, you can enjoy some of my Christmas photos, downloaded (at last!).