Funny is ...

... looking at 5 year old Nib and realizing she looks just like a Manga character from a comic book.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Red cape, ermine trim: bishop's attire from Myra (Turkey). See St. Nicholas of Bari.

Newseum:

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old. "Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. "Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.' "Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus? "VIRGINIA O'HANLON. "115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET." VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge. Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished. Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Wisdom From St. Augustine

“You say the times are evil, then improve yourselves and the times will be better: you are the times.”
 --St. Augustine

Been going around, but it bears repeating.
h/t The Anchoress

Vote like your religious liberty parts depend on it

Vote. I did. It's a civic and a moral responsibility. I even used a paper ballot.

Let's just say that I didn't want any ... irregularities with my ballot . There were over 20 people in line ahead of me to vote electronically, but only two to vote by paper.

No hanging chads here, just good old-fashioned fill in the circle. With permanent ink.

I almost always vote down bonds because they start with the sentence "shall we contract a debt" but I looked up the financial management of our county and it is first rate. They have a specific plan to retire half of the bond debt within 5 years.

Eminent domain is finally --finally! --getting a review to limit its power to prevent seizing someone's property to build a stadium or for Economic gain.

Finally, vote for religious freedom because that which is lost is twice as hard to gain back. Although it may seem intangible it will be the thing most sorely missed when you need it.

Creeping tyranny must always be resisted!

On Whistling & Ice Cream

Last Saturday I took the whole brood of Nodlings to Costco for a little bulk food shopping.

We had our little train going with Nub and Dab in separate shopping carts (so they didn't poke each other en route); Wynken drove one while I drove the other with my waif-like Nib riding shotgun in the basket and the other girls trailing behind.  It always amuses me to watch people goggle at our miniature horde. (Yes, they're all mine. Yes, I know what causes that. If you're good at something you have to stick with it.)

 I sent Blynken and Nod-girl off to search for granola bars while we perused the clothing section. After 10 minutes or so I started whistling for them to return, figuring they had gotten lost and didn't know exactly where we were.

I know what you're thinking: Whistling for children? Isn't that rather Sound-of-Music-ish creepiness?

Listen, I grew up in a neighborhood where our friends lived a couple of blocks over and we were allowed to go play with them once our homework was done.  This frequently ran up to dinner time when it was just starting to get dark. Since we were playing in one of a dozen front or back yards or in the woods, it wasn't like my parents could just call up on the phone and tell them to send Johnny home. And it was definitely too far to holler.

My Dad has a piercing whistle that he can do using his tongue that carries for several blocks. (My brothers have learned how to do this, but I can't quite manage it, so I use two fingers.) Dad grew up in a time where kids were even more free-range and everybody whistled for their kids. Every family had their own pattern, so you knew who was being whistled for.

Here in Northern Virginia that is probably considered tres gauche, or tacky, but I don't care one bit.  When we heard our Dad whistle, we immediately headed for home: I gotta go, my Dad's calling me. (How do you know?) Didn't you hear the whistle? That means: come now. (Wow that's cool. I wish my Dad could do that.)

We have three flights of stairs in our house (ok, ok, they're half-flights of stairs) and it just doesn't pay to wear out your voice calling for some Nodling who has their head buried in a book with the door closed. So frequently, I'll whistle to get their attention, then call out the name of the Nodling I need. Works like a charm and it saves my throat.

So this time when I whistled for my little lost Nodlings in the store, I got a little more than I had bargained for. My brother showed up with his four girls in a shopping cart. "I heard you whistle, so I figured we'd come."

We had a good laugh and celebrated immediately thereafter with big giant scoops of ice cream for everybody. Par-tay! Again, people kind of stared at 10 kids running around the tables with ice cream dripping from their faces, but once again I didn't care. This is family. This is how we roll.