To MEN IN BLACK everywhere, HAPPY NEW YEAR

Tonight's the night that will usher in 2011. It will be an odd year. I will be putting on my Tuxedo along with millions of other men so that we can stand neutrally beside our wives who will immediately go home to change if any other woman in the ballroom has on the same dress. I have a natural resistance to wearing the "uniform" of the night, though I have worn real uniforms for many years in one capacity or another. Removing one's individuality on purpose so as to blend in with ALL the other males and a few females in the room...same fabric, color, tie, shoes, seems wrong unless you are going out to kill the enemy. Isn't it the MALE peacock (the female is a peahen) that has all the colorful plumage?

Real uniforms have medals, multicolored ribbons, and sashes, bars and stars and stripes of gold. The dress versions are often blue and red. And yet here we are, on the cusp of a NEW YEAR, and I will be going into the special place in my closet where I keep my black wool tuxedo, white shirt, black tie, and shiny black patent leather shoes. It will look exactly like every other guy there. Sure some will be rentals, and mine is an Armani which I bought for my daughter's wedding a few years back because it was, in comparison to other expenses of the wedding, a "rounding error." Despite the expensive varieties of tuxedos, from Kiton, Brioni, and others, it would take a haberdasher from Saville Row, or the average prowling divorcee to tell the difference.

So tonight, even though the invitation says "Black" tie, I will chose one of another color (so long as it does not "clash" with whatever the Kitty finally decides to wear). Speaking of the Kitty, I will be dressed and downstairs watching TV waiting for her to finally begin the "trunk show" of her closet. "Which looks better...this or this? and Which shoes etc.?" Eventually, once our bedroom looks like someone lobbed in a grenade, and I hear the clop-clop-clop down our oak stairs of her size 5 1/2 Manolos, I will know that soon we will be on our way, just in time for the last 5 minutes of the cocktail hour. She will be gorgeous in something that I will say "Is that new?" And she will say " No, I wore it at the Schmendrake wedding, don't you remember?" We will leave in her car because I can't stand to hand mine over to a sweaty teenage valet who has been running back and forth all night. Then I get in the driver's seat in my wool tuxedo and stick to the seat, while the Kitty sits in the passenger side and tells me to turn up the heat since the transparent wrap she brought to cover her bare shoulders is not enough, "Can I borrow your jacket?" Giorgio takes a brief trip to the dry cleaners the next day, then returns to my closet where he will await his turn to once again blend in with all the other tuxedoes at the next Black-Tie event. Happy New Year.

3 MONTHS AGO, and I can still taste it

The Kitty and the Oracle went to Something Natural, our favorite Nantucket sandwich place 3 months ago. This is my "signature" sandwich from there; oatmeal bread, smoked turkey, lettuce, tomato, and hot mustard, with a slice or two of swiss cheese. Sitting in an open Jeep Wrangler, on a sunny day, sharing a sandwich on Nantucket Mmmm...hard to beat.

The NEW QUEEN of WHITETRASHSYLVANIA

AWFUL SHAME that the lovely Christine O'Donnell seems to be embroiled in so many controversies. One would think that she has dethroned Tonya Harding and Gretchen Wilson as white-trash-Barbie. She is very articulate and when I was researching her "quotes" I came upon a left wing blog where they listed many of them in an attempt to prove her incompetence. I read them and agreed with every one of her opinions. Even today she is defending herself on charges of campaign finance irregularities. It used to be mostly that "witch" thing that she had to fend off.

I don't think the American press will allow her to run for anything ever again but I think that she will remain visible for one reason or another. Her highest and best use is as a lightning rod to bring out the left wing crazies and raise money for the Tea Party. In that regard, she is Nancy Pelosi's counterpart only without the years of public disservice. Queen Nancy's highest and best use is to rally the left wing crazies and raise money for the Tea Party.

CHRISTMAS at the CASA de ORACLE

Planning to leave most of the culinary comments to my daughter-in-law the "nibbler" who writes a foodie blog at notablenibbles.blogspot.com. My comments are more sociological and cultural. First of all, my 2 1/2 year old grandchildren were here and at no time during the day could anyone but Hellen Keller not be aware of their presence. As a scientist I have a solution to the global energy problem...find some way to attach a generator to all the 2 year olds in the world. Maybe large Gerbil wheels...I will leave that to the engineers.

We had tenderloin which was cooked to perfection which means I could get a piece from the end that was well done, and the folks who like it still mooing can take theirs from the center. There was a Honey-Baked ham. What, you think we cooked it? And lots of starchy things with cheese and cream. We had the traditional Ashkenazi Kugel which went nicely with Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond singing Christmas carols. Very ecumenical. And of course, my favorite of any gathering... Pecan Pie. Having lived all over the country, this dessert can be pronounced Pa-cahn or Pee-can depending. Be specific when requesting Pee-can in Alabama, you never know. Whichever, it is yummy. There were hundreds of presents under the tree. I got one or two as did the other adults, but the grand babies had the rest. They went at the packages like an Asplundh tree shredder goes after a Melaleuca. There was paper everywhere (note to self...preventing identity theft by document shredding...consider child labor). and their faces were aglow. There had to be two of most things or a fistfight might have broken out. They are twins.

Last night we watched sisters Nancy and Ann Wilson, "Heart" the rock and roll band, on Palladia TV. One is blonde, wiry, and jumps around a lot while playing the guitar. The other is Brunette, more placid, and more vocal as she gently sways behind the microphone. It would have been great to see the Wilson girls as 2 year olds. I think I got a glimpse on Christmas Day.

BECOMING YOUR OWN PARENTS

There is not a child alive who has not said and perhaps continues to believe that his/her parents are a couple of idiots. Residents of cloud-cuckoo-land who did not know how life should be lived and who are clueless about modern day existence. Nothing they say or believe could have any relevance to my life. I know that I went through this in my teens at least and perhaps a little later. Eventually I either let it go or began to appreciate that from time to time one or two of their opinions had a little merit.

All the while, having within us, many of those same idiosyncrasies and annoying certitudes as they had or have. Perhaps that old psychological axiom of hating characteristics in others that we ourselves possess applies here. Anyhow, my point is that we have a choice. We can step back and think of how we were raised and look at our parents if they are still alive and dissect their "ways." What are those things that you are glad they imposed on you? Or at least made available to you? How many of those things have made you a better happier or more successful person, and how many of them have lead you to Rehab?

Can you see yourself choosing from this list and for unknown reasons keeping the "bad" alive in the way you conduct your own life and how you raise your children? You can pick choose and refuse now that you are no longer a child under their domination and yet... you continue to blame all that is bad on how you were raised, and believe that all that is good is due to your own hard work. Look in the mirror? Have you become your parents? Is that a good thing? Entirely? You can craft your own life now? You have permission. Like making a meal, just because your mother considered black pepper "Just too spicy" doesn't mean that you can't mix a Habanero pepper into your next family dinner. How did they limit themselves? What put the ceiling on their lives... their immigrant parents? Religion? The Great Depression? Do you need to repeat this cycle or are you resigned to the idea that it's too late, I've already been formed completely and as Caesar said as he crossed the Rubicon "Alea jacta est (the die is cast)?"

VELVETEEN RABBIT

No, this is NOT one of my favorite movies, it is however a favorite Metaphor for life. If you are observant, and one should be lest one get run over etc., you can take an itsy bitsy out of body trip from time to time to watch yourself and how you relate or at times don't relate to those around you. And most important of all, how you can become invisible or "not-real" sort of the opposite of what happened to the Velveteen Rabbit. Don't tell me you don't remember that story. Rabbits are important in literature, take Alice in Wonderland, any story by John Updike and of course "Of Mice and Men." But I refer to Velveteen because in that story, as a result of the love and attention of a little child, this stuffed rabbit goes from a flattened mass of alopecia into a living being.

The opposite can happen as well. Because of the artificial importance we give to other things in life, gifts, work, social obligations, and the like, we can ignore those humans that are near and dear to us, take them for granted, and over time, they become un-real, inanimate, and are relegated to the pile of junk in the great toy-box of life buried among mismatched puzzle pieces and random legos. Making something real again is a more difficult process. All it takes to make someone un-real is to ignore them long enough, take them for granted, assume they are OK, and "fritter away the day in detail about all those important things that have to get done." Eventually, like a houseplant left at home while you go away on vacation, you come back to a leafless stick. Ever try to resuscitate a leafless stick? See what I mean?

Going back to my not-favorite movie, in the film, The Bruce Willis character is omnipresent. He contributes and is "there" and communicates with a young man. You don't learn until later in the film that Bruce is dead, which finally explains why nobody but this young man who can "See dead people" hears or acknowledges anything he says. So, go back to that out-of-body observation point where you can look down from above, as has been reported in people who have cardiac arrest and are then revived, and see how people really relate to you and you to them. Are you invisible in your own home, office, on the street? Are others invisible to you? Is this whole thing a Quantum Physics conundrum in which none of us is real and all of existence is a cloud of energy? Hmmm? To be or not to be, that is the question.

WISEGUY

A man was photographed going through a red light by one of those new cameras. There is a perception out there in civilian land that this is not only intrusive but illegal. Whether that is true or not, folks tend to think they can get away with this better than they can with an eyewitness and a police officer pulling them over and writing a ticket in person.

When this man received the ticket and photo in the mail he thought that "if all they have of me is a photo, then I'll just send in a photo of money as payment, HA HA." Upon receiving the photo of money, the police department sent back a photo of handcuffs. The fine was paid.