Chronicles of the Wayward Moot

WELCOME TO THE MOOT, oh world-wanderers and word-whisperers. After two years of Peace Corps. After 2,200 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. What. Comes. Next?


I sit on a red leather couch so overstuffed as to be quite uncomfortable. My neck and lumbar areas are stiff and protesting. An artificial tree sits to my right festooned with plastic and ornaments mostly derived from petroleum products. The mock tree is harnessed into place by a restrictive electrified wire, presumably there to electrocute it if it attempt to sneak away from the nest of treasures arrayed at its base. Things, stuff, and products all spread around the support stand of the tree, many of them made of plastic and toxic chemicals, then wrapped with ink-covered paper, itself created by shredding the carcasses of once-living trees and then mixing the bits with more chemicals before ultimately drying it into a sheet. Perched atop the flat screen TV (mercifully silent) are three blocks of painted wood. They're part of a set of four blocks that ideally spell out "NOEL" but the "L" is AWOL so they just say "ONE."

In this house right now I can think of at least eleven electronic screens (not counting cell phones) , though I cannot recall the last time we all played a board game or took a walk on the lakefront together. Lying on my left thigh is Paco, our little mountain feist dog with a huge heart and a tiny brain. His furry warmth is a good antidote to the plastic and the holiday hullabaloo. I think I'll give him a nice hug and go take a shower. We raid the loot in 21 minutes, I'm told.

So many friends out there in this world doing their own Christmas things, I hope yall are all having a wonderful day and soaking it up for all that it is. This goes out to all of you with love.

Absolutely worth listening to the whole thing. Absolutely...


Blogger Lando said...

Though thou dost protest, we both know you'd be lost without petrochemicals. That's the most painful part.

11:24 AM  

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