rambling rosemarie

There are stories that when told lose something in the telling. Those same stories when written can become larger than life. I am fairly certain that Harper Lee could verbally tell a great story about growing up with Truman Capote, but her written story in To Kill a Mockingbird became much more than a few moments entertainment. It became a catalyst for social-cultural change. It grew so large and so noteworthy that she never published another novel. How could she compete with what had become the perfect novel at the perfect time to expose the imperfections of southern sensibilities? The inter-net is chock-a-block full of examples to disprove my theory. If Ivory soap is still considered 99 & 44/100% pure in a way that defines pure as good, the content of the inter-net is probably the polar opposite with 99 & 44/100% of it what is written being purely horrible. Most of it is not worth the powder it would take to blow it to hell. I cannot say that my blog is a rare exception...

I was driving home from church today and my mind began to formulate a blog article. I was listening to the news, percolating on the sermon I had heard, thinking about my friend's challenge to me to build some discipline and they all got jumbled up in my pointy little head. So I thought about Christmas instead. I feel strongly both ways about Christmas. I love decorating the house, singing carols and in general all the warm fuzzies the holidays can bring. I hate the pressure to buy. I hate that I am separated from my kids, I hate that I have no one to celebrate the season with. Mostly I hate that Christians ought to celebrate Christmas and Easter every day and we don't. Many of us put more effort into Black Friday sales events than we do with the Advent. We read or listen to or watch the news nearly every day and we have plenty of opinions about what we see, read or hear. We all feign shock when the stores put out the Christmas decor in September but why? We say we are t...