They shoot horses, don't they ...

Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a hard drive was whirling
Not a click from my mouse

The teenagers were nestled
Each snug in their bed
And, really, why not?
For the computer was dead

No blogging, no surfing
Not one URL
No e-mail, no broadband
We'd landed in hell
Sad, but true ... on Christmas Eve, our computer suddenly shut down and would not come back on. It was a power issue and no amount of tweaking, pleading, or kicking would make the damned thing work. Let me tell you something ... if our computer was a horse, we'd shoot it to put it out of it's misery!

Wait, I know what you're thinking ... "But ThirtyWHAT, isn't this what you do for a living?" Well, I'd like to think I'm pretty good at figuring out how to fix hardware problems ... but let's be frank ... I'm no Billy Graham and nothing short of laying hands on the CPU and screaming, "be HEALED" was going to get that computer booted up and running.

So, we carried on with Christmas ... no one admitting that we were lost without the little humming box of joy in the back room. We spent the day going about the planned activities ... but every once in awhile, as I passed the computer desk, I would say a prayer and press the power button, hoping for some kind of Christmas miracle ala Frank Capra or Jim Henson.

But, since my life more closely resembles a South Park Christmas special than Miracle on 34th Street, there was no magic spark of life and we all toddled off to bed to wait for St. Nick.

The morning came and went. Christmas was pretty much what anyone with teenagers would expect. I cherished each moment.  And, naturally, my acquisitive teens were busy contemplating what booty they'd receive at the next relative's house.

Believe it or not, over the course of the weekend I did get the computer back up and running ... barely. It's held together with duct tape and baling wire ... and looks suspiciously like something Red Green would concoct for the Handyman's Corner.

We survived another holiday season ... it wasn't flawless, but that's okay. Because after all, whose really is?

Seasons Greetings and a Happy New Year!

The most vivid memories
of Christmases past are usually
not of gifts given or received,
but of the spirit of love,
the special warmth of Christmas worship,
the cherished little habits of home.

Lois Rand