"Don't forget to keep your powder dry and
look into your heart and find the sunshine."

We're pretty sure that while we're gone during the day, this is how Lucky's day goes:

Watch out the window for a while. Maybe they're coming back to me with a treat. Maybe... but I kiiinda freakin' doubt it...

I guess I'll jump up on the leather couch and scratch this mystery scar from my childhood. Oh yeah baby, that's the stuff. Whenever I do that, I get some of that pesky winter fur growth off, and the static electricity in this joint makes the couch look more like me. I like it that way. We're all one big family here anyway, right?

Hmm, I'm kinda bored. Thank goodness Grandma gave me a Princess squeaky toy for Christmas. Mama and Daddy only let me play with it while they're away from the house, can you believe that? What Nazis! But it's just not as fun unless they're in the room, watching and listening to me squeak.

Anything going on in the backyard? Eh. Mama left her computer on, so I'm gonna check out www.hothusky.com. Mmmm, baby, Yukon really shocks my collar, man. Check my email...luckykoukla@yahoo.com...and...

It's naptime on the kitchen tile. Squeak a little bit. Then naptime on the carpet. Pretty soon, the garage door openz and it's playtime!

The tearful woman told her story on the ten o'clock news.

"They took the Christ out of our Christmas. How do you like that?"

She was referring to the Nativity yard decoration that's been in their family for more than 30 years, and just this year, some thieving passerby stole the Baby Jesus out of His Manger.

And I thought I would have nothing to blog about tonight.

I observed as one friend went waaay overboard buying presents for her daughters, because that's the way her parents did it, and my precious college roommate isn't buying her kids anything new. Their birthdays are in November, and there is nothing these children don't have, so she's taking them to a Giving Tree, to teach them another meaning of Christmas. She's having them buy gifts for children their own ages, who aren't as fortunate as they may be.

I pray this woman's antique Baby Jesus comes back to her. And in the future, I pray she doesn't leave her important possessions outside.

The Christmas Folgers commercial does me in. Annually. You know which one I mean. It's the one where Peter slips in the house at sunrise with his Army green duffle bag and his little sister says, "Peter! Everyone's sleeping."

And Peter wakes up his mother by making coffee. If this commercial does not make you cry, you must have no heart. Or no military background.

Now. Today, my mom received a Christmas card from Gloria. Her daughter Genny was in the room next door to mine in University Hospital, San Antonio, in the fall of 1999. Genny is close to my age. She was completely broken from an accident, and had to wait for all of her bones to heal before she could undergo physical therapy.

All I knew of this girl was what mom told me, because the waiting room families would visit. During those hours in my room that were not Visiting Hours hours, I would get lonely. Not being able to do anything, talk much, read or move, I would almost go stir-crazy. I asked Laura, a nurse, late one night, "Does Genny cry when her mother leaves?"

And that is a hard memory for my mom. Much like the thought of those nights of immobility is for me.

I am well aware that the problems of three small people don't amount to a hill of beans in this big, big world, but... Well, today, I just happened to hear Oprah say, "Do all that you can you can do. And when you can't do any more, surrender it all to Jesus."

She was talking about not being able to go on if she hadn't gotten the role in The Color Purple.

Now, I'm relatively certain Oprah did not believe that a movie role was her life and death situation. But we all get like that. We all get to places where we hold certain things so near and dear that we just don't know what else to do.

That reminded me of that old saying, "Don't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff."

Then why do we do that?

So much for bragging to everyone about eight convulsion-free weeks. It was a nice break.

I couldn't possibly have the flu. I got a flu shot this year.