I sing your praise Mysterious Lady of the Sea, I sing your praise Ix’Chel, I sing your praise Cozumel. I sing of your beauties and your mysteries for all to hear.
As you no doubt gathered from the none too subtle opening of this post, I’m thoroughly enthused by our scuba trip to Cozumel. Expectations exceeded.
Have you ever wondered where the lime in a Corona comes from? I have. I’m hugely interested in how culture evolves and what roots the various changes might have. We all have our issues right? Plus there’s only so much youtube fail videos one can watch without irretrievably loosing I.Q. (and soul) points.
For the first time in my life I am up in the air on the last day of the year, I certainly hope there will be many more, and so it is not without irony (for a founding member of the D&C no less), that I really hate flying. I’m sure there’s a metaphor or a fake Chinese cookie message in there somewhere, but I’m at a loss to interpret it. My spidey senses are a bit dullish this morning, 3 AM wake-up, Bloody Mary in the airport lounge and all that, plus the aforementioned “dislike” for aerial travel, which if you knew more of my background would bump the irony up to eleven. The complete Diving and Chillin’ clan is headed to Cozumel, meaning the island of the swallows in the Mayan language. Expected activities? Please cue the evident punch line: diving and chilling. For the first time kids, the second generation of the club, are joining us. Time moving on and all that.
I’m not going to bore you with a long talk about the origins of Christmas and why it is where it is on the calendar, though I really want to. Suffice it to say that it is extremely unlikely that Jesus was born in what is to us the end of December. The gospel of Luke tells us shepherds were out at night guarding their flock, and that is not a winter activity. Neither is it true, sorry my neo-pagan friends, that Christmas’s date was chosen to replace an older festival, in a sort of religious sleight of hand, as if people would not notice. No, according to some recent scholarship, it has to do with the winter solstice, thus the return of the Sun, and the equation of that Light (and Life I assume) with Christ, but this is not what this post is about. This post is about you guys, all eight of you, and wishing you, and yours, a festive, memorable and all around kick ass Christmas, I mean it. Merry Christmas.
Honestly, writing about the martini is tricky, probably even foolhardy (Side bar: apparently Tolkien’s name comes from an old German word, tollkhun, meaning foolhardy, feel free to use that info to get into someone’s pants, you’re welcome). People can be fanatical about this drink and their views about it tend to be written in stone. There’s usually little room for discussion, and conversations can become downright vicious if martinistas feel their beliefs have been challenged in any way. Kinda like politics, but with more relevance. Personally I wonder whatever happened to sip and let sip. I’m a damn hippie I guess.