Here you go, Marek J. I already broke off my piece. (I’d like it better if it did taste like Godiva chocolate! Hey, there’s a commercial venture for you!)

Zycze zdrowia, szczescia i fortuny!
Niech sie spelnia wszystkie marzenia!
Wesolych Swiat!

Go here to read a wonderful sermon given at a Jewish temple last Friday by a Jewish man — a therapist, a healer, a poet, a writer, a man of wisdom and compassion. The title of the sermon is “Biblical Wisdom and Modern War.”
May we all find peace in the New Year.
For more information about Dr. Edward Tick, see www.mentorthesoul.com

The following, thanks to Lisa English. Read her entire posts on her site and/or Blog Sisters.
THE HOMELAND SECURITY WHODUNIT:
TOM PAINE.COM OFFERS $10,000 REWARD TO FIND OUT
Back in November, the Senate and House passed a Homeland Security Bill replete with goodies for special interests, but none so troubling as that mysterious rider which appeared out of nowhere, seemingly in the middle of the night, just prior to the vote. The rider created a wall of protection around the pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly, a large Republican campaign contributor. For a company facing expensive lawsuits stemming from an association between the vaccines it produced, and the high rise in autism among American children who were administered that vaccine, this rider – having nothing to do with Homeland Security – may well have saved Eli Lilly’s future in corporate America. Sadly, passage of Homeland Security put an end to those lawsuits, filed by parents who want to know the truth. Families must now file their claims through a special “vaccine court” where their cases will be heard. The quest for truth has been crushed.
Who was the person who slipped this rider into the bill at the last minute? Who out there is protecting the corporate backside of Eli Lilly? Politicians on the left and on the right claim they knew nothing about the addition. Many voted for the bill not realizing the rider had been included. Now, you and I both know that Washington DC is not exactly a haven for the modest. To the contrary, it’s home to politicians and pundits whose every breath is cause for a two-column write-up, so when nobody stepped up to the plate and took credit for this mysterious corporate litigation condom, families of autism and people of good will began to ask, “whodunit?” We just might get an answer to that question.
TomPaine.com has issued a $10,000 reward leading to the identification of that individual responsible for this clandestine piece of lawmaking. Read it all on their site..
I wonder if the arts money that heiress Ruth Lilly is spreading around is tied to this at all. Blood money? Then why to the arts? Because arts people are so hungry for support that they won’t criticize their benefactresses connections? Just wondering.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Blog arena as a place to exercise one’s authentic voice. That’s something that’s discussed on and off all the time — as is the idea of “writing oneself into existence.”
Oddly enough (or maybe not), I’ve always looked at the real world as a place to exercise my authentic voice, to write/speak/act myself into existence — so my blog voice is the same as my real voice, the one I use all of the time. And my blog behavior is the same as it is the the real world. I don’t need to type myself into existence through my blog; but it is a way to share my real, authentic voice with a larger world.
Question: Why doesn’t everyone use the same voice/behavior in the real world as they do in the blog world? Is it fear? Inhibition?
Just something I’m thinking about as I’m cleaning, cooking, and packing for the drive. I’m inviting you all to think about that too.

In the fall of 1984, I bought a real potted Norfolk pine in anticipation of beginning a tradition of decorating that real tree for each winter holiday. On December 22, 1984 I was ready to start that tradition — when I got a phone call telling me to come “home” quick (to my parents’); my father was coming home from the hospital to die. (I told that story on this weblog a while ago.)
I left my high school-aged son with his father and the tree undecorated. My father died on December 26. The tree followed not long after. I haven’t had a Christmas tree since. If I decorate, it’s more in honor of the solstice — the passing through the darkest of days and moving toward a new. more joyous, season.
This year I have a new grandson, who’s coming with his mom and dad to spend his first Christmas with his grandmother and great-grandmother. There should be a tree, and lights, and stockings, and laughter. And this year there will be. It’s not a real tree, but it has lights that twinkle, and I made a totally funky un-Christmasy-looking stocking (except for the bells around the edge) for my grandson and filled it with cool baby stuff.
Last week I bought a small balsam in a pot. It’s too small to decorate, and that’s OK for this year. I’m planning for next. My mother is 86. It hope it’s not deja-vue all over again.
But even if it is, there are many more Christmases with my grandson to look forward to. And, if necessary, next time, maybe I’ll try something in fir.
In a few days I will be driving out to the Boston area to pick up and bring back the little family. (Would you believe that neither my daughter nor son-in-law ever learned how to drive!) And then I’ll drive them back after Christmas. So this might be my last post for a while. Lots to do!!
Happy Holidays, everyone. And b!X, I put your Christmas package in the mail today. Keep an eye out for it.

When I lived alone, I used to go to the movies all the time. I got into the habit early during my times of single bliss. It was the one thing I felt really comfortable doing by myself. I

Don’t you just love the creative names that bloggers come up with for their weblogs? I’m not even going to try to list them. You surf through them all of the time. I wish I had thought of something more catchy for the name of my weblog. Kalilily was the name I started using when I began sending emails. Back then everyone seemed to be concerned about preserving one’s anonymity, and I bought into that. I chose Kalilily because
1. I’m an enthusiastic student of feminine mythology because of the advantages of using female mythic figures in working toward self-empowerment. In other words, I dig mythic figures like Kali and Lilith. So, there you go. Kalilily.
2. I love Georgia O’Keefe’s calla lilies. Perfect.
So, when it came time to pick a blog name, I thought, this is a time and place for Kalilily. Kalilily Time. Not as catchy as 99% of the blognames out there, but it’s what I wound up with.
Now, back to #1, above. Kali and Lilith are not considered by traditional cultures to present pretty female pictures. They symbolize the dark sides of the femine (not evil; dark.) But their identities are powerful, and they set the stage for the emergence of the crone in all of us women — the older, strong, individualistic, solitary, compassionate, female — the one who has been there, done that, and keeps moving on to new experiences, new learning — who keeps reinventing herself so that, each time, she becomes more authentic. Now, that is something to which I aspire.
And so emerged the sub-title: Elaine of Kalilily, Resident Crone of Blogdom.
Sort of a symbol, a leitmotif, a gimmick, an identifying image. Aspiring to the “crone” thing has been part of my spiritual development for decades, and my non-blog friends know all about my journeys toward that goal. But to bloggers, the sub-title might sound a little arrogant. I guess I should have kept the words “Self-Proclaimed” where I originally had it — before the word “Resident.” I think I’ll put it back there, just so there’s no mistake.
I aspire to Cronedom. I figure that that’s not such a bad thing. And I do believe that we become what we intend.

I love to cook but I hate to bake. If I remember correctly, when my kids were little I used to make Pillsbury Slice ‘n Bake cookies for Christmas. For the last few Christmases, my daughter baked and brought cookies, but this year, with little Lex pretty much monopolizing her time and energy, that’s not going to happen. So, am I going to bake? Heh.
Of course not. I went out and bought a big plastic cannister of Christmas-shaped pretzels, got some candy-making chocolate from the craft store, and am making chocolate-covered pretzels, which I like a lot more than cookies anyway.
I sure hope everyone else does!

Some of the women in my (non-blog) life to whom I feel closest are women I’ve met through the men I’ve known. One of them dated a guy after he and I decided to end our three-year relationship. He introduced us at a dance, believing that we had a lot in common. Since then (more than a decade ago), he has gone on to other things and other women, but Joan and I have remained the best of friends.
And (thanks to him-whose-name-is-unmentionable-in-this-blog) now I come upon Laurie Doctor, who seems like someone I’d like to know better. Of course, she lives half-way across the country, so chances are we’ll never meet in person. But her work speaks to me. She creates from a place that I used to know well but have wandered too far from.
While I had been to her website before, I’d never gotten in touch with her. But this time I did, perhaps because the spirit that her work captures has been tapping on the back of my brain for several weeks now. It’s just wonderfully synchronistic that, again, I meet a kindred female spirit through the energies of a decidedly unkindred male.
I had lunch last week with a female friend who is an expressive arts therapist. She and I used to give workshops together (she has the credentials; I just have the chutzpah and a sense of the theatrical). She’s invited me to pick up this spring where we left off a couple of years ago and join her and her new business partner in presenting a series of workshops on “conscious aging.” I would like to do that, although a lot depends on how my mother is doing.
One door closes (dancing) and another door opens.
Meanwhile, I just joined the local Kripalu center and enrolled in a Caregivers workshop as well as a meditation session and an expressive arts day that my friend is facilitating. I noticed that they offer a Yoga for Seniors at an time late enough in the morning for me to actually be able to make. I’m thinking about it.
The solstice is on December 22. Laurie Doctor says that she’ll be getting together with some of her female friends to celebrate. I used to do that, and I’d create a ritual that would honor the power of our circle of women. These days, my circle of women has lost its shape, and we won’t be getting together until after the New Year. So, I hope that Laurie doesn’t mind if I send my spirit out into the Rockies to join her and her circle. Women. Circles. Cycles. Celebrations. As much as I love men (with the exception of one or two), they’re just not women. Heh.

Yesterday, Jeneane remembered her amazing great-grandmother, and today I add my own remembrance in a comment to her post on Blog Sisters. I guess it’s the holidays.
I took my mother to a Polish church yesterday afternoon to sing “koledy,” Polish Christmas caroles. I avoid going to church every chance I get, but I have a feeling that this could just be my mother’s last Christmas, so I did the right thing.
I remember as a child I used to love to go to our big cathedral-like Polish church in Yonkers at Christmas time — the lights, the candles, the music, the incense, the crowds packed into the pews, everyone regaled in Christmas finery. I still love the smell of that incense, and years ago I bought some frankincense to see if I could duplicate it. Nope. (Maybe my sense memory has something to do with the scent of human sweat combined with that unique incense. Could be.)
My childhood church had a great choir, and they indeed sounded like a choir of angels when they sang the koledy. The church we went to yesterday was sparsely filled, the choir meager. There was no incense. I tried to let my awareness drift back in time, but my brain was too wired from dealing with my altercation with the previously-posted-about cult personality. But my mother sang right along, happy to be connected to something very important to her. And that’s why I was there, anyway.
On our way out, we picked up some “oplatek,” some of which I’m sending to b!X to keep him connected to his family roots.
I’ll miss my son deeply this Christmas, but we’ll talk on the phone, and I’ll probably cry. And then I’ll hug my grandson and cry some more. And my mother will play some koledy on her Lowry organ and, this time, I might even sing.