It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

So we made it across the pond.

This morning, so my kid won't have that "just-had-a-haircut" look for the family portrait scheduled for next week, I took him to the barber shop that my husband has gone to since he wasn't much older than Munchkin.

Sure, Munchkin was completely uncooperative and there were tears and a helluva lot of shorn hair that ended up in my cleavage. But the woman who cut his hair offered him a "sucka" and comforted him in that comforting New England brogue that needs no "r's." And as she leaned in close to make sure the air around his ears was cut clean, the smell of clam chowder and freshly baked bread wafted into my nostrils.

It's good to be home.

Are you frickin' kidding me?

"Did you hear that Britney Spears' sister is pregnant?"

"Ummm, isn't she like 12?"

"No, she's 15 or 16."

"Oh, that's so much better!"

"And get this, it's by her live-in 19 year old boyfriend. I was surprised to hear it. I figured she was all set up to be the good sister. And you know, she always seemed okay. My daughter watches her on that Zoey 101 show."

"Not for much longer, I guess."

"They haven't said they are going to fire her. But I honestly hope they don't."

"Are you serious? It's a kid's show. How exactly are they supposed to spin the fact that their squeaky clean teenage star is pregnant?"

"But she's a role model for these girls. So many big stars run off and have abortions. I want my daughter to see that if you make this kind of mistake, you have to own up to it. She's not going to see that if Jamie Lynn Spears just disappears."

Let this be a lesson to you.

My grandmother, the most opinionated woman on the planet, liked to use stories in the paper or rumors she heard in her small town to illustrate to us grandchildren all the ways that we could fuck up our young and ignorant lives.

"Honey, that boy down the road died when he didn't wear his seatbelt. Wasn't even his fault. He was just driving down the road and when another car pulled out of a driveway, BAM!, he died instantly. Let this be a lesson to you."

"She ran around with all kinds of boys when she was just 16. And when she got pregnant, she had no idea who the father was. Now she's on welfare and she has four kids by just as many fathers. Let this be a lesson to you."

"He partied all through college. And guess what? He didn't graduate. All that money, all that opportunity just squandered and for what? Nothing. Let this be a lesson to you."

You get the idea.

Because of a few incidents this week, I've found myself in this Mama Bear role with a bunch of people. Getting wild at the bars, hanging out in the barracks, driving without a license, your basic young-wives-bored-guys-gone-behavior. And I gotta tell you, I must be turning into my grandmother because it was all I could do not to follow up my little lectures with her signature phrase.

When did I get so old and crotchety?

Salon names SGTs Mora and Gray as their persons of the year.

I know a lot of folks on the right have their issue with Salon's coverage of the war. But I found this tribute to SGT Omar Mora and SGT Yance Gray to be really touching.

An excerpt:

It is, of course, impossible to note in a single article the stories of each of the 892 American men and women who died so far this year serving in Iraq, or of the 3,895 who have died since the war's inception or the 28,661 who have been wounded. But in the story of Mora and Gray, we are given a clear glimpse of what our soldiers died for. They did not just die for the mission, as prescribed to them by their superiors. "We need not talk about our morale," they wrote in the Times. "As committed soldiers, we will see this mission through."

They died in service to a country where even the soldier in the field has the right to question the judgment of the commander in chief. They died in service to the idea that political and military leaders must be held to account for their failures and challenged on their facts. A month after their article ran in the Times, the soldiers words echoed through the halls of Congress, when the war's Gen. David Petraeus and its chief diplomat, U.S. ambassador to Iraq Ryan Crocker, came to testify.

I made a promise I don't think I can keep.

We leave for our Christmas "guilt trip" next week. In a fit of pique, or rather, a lengthy negotiation with CPT Dick about child duty this weekend so I can finish up some work, I somehow promised that if I got my work done I would not take my laptop with me to the states.

That I would be laptop-independent for 9 whole days.

I can't explain my reasoning. I was tired and cranky and really thought I was pulling one over on him. I was stupid.

Someone help me get out of this one.

Stunning.

Have you checked out The Full Body Project? Leonard Nimoy -- yes, Mr. Spock for you Trekkies -- is now dabbling in photography. And doing pretty well.

One of his most recent projects, now a book, is of full figured models. The photos, in black and white, are absolutely stunning. Visually arresting, beautifully composed. Just gorgeous.

And yet, as much as I go on and on about how unfair the world is to women and their bodies, I find that I must admit that these pictures make me somewhat uncomfortable. I can't quite figure out why.

Definitely worth a ponder.

She has a point.

"Mitt Romney's wife was on the radio again. And of course, as if she hadn't told us enough, when asked about how her husband was different from the other candidates, she felt it necessary to mention that she is his first wife."

"She does like to bring that up."

"Here's the thing. I figure it's politics, right? I should expect it."

"You should."

"But by the same token, this guy's been in the game for a while. Chances are, he hasn't been faithful to this woman. Hell, I wanted to cheat on her just in the five minutes she talked on the radio. I can only imagine how bad he must be itching after 20 odd years of marriage."

"You're funny."

"So let's be honest. He's probably cheated but just not gotten caught. And like, I know this sounds jaded, but that makes me wonder what else he's getting away with. I mean, Clinton got caught in a lie. Sure. But it makes him somehow seem more honest because he was just so bad at covering his tracks. And that's how I'm approaching politics these days. How fucked up is that?"

Where is the spirit?

Judith Warner, who usually writes about Mommyhood and all the stuff that comes with it in her NYTimes Domestic Disturbances blog, hits the nail on the head when she takes on the presidential candidates and faith.

Where are the moderates, indeed.

My favorite Christmas song.

I've added it to my iPod's Christmas play list. (And actually, this rendition by Robert Downey, Jr. is one of my favorite covers EVAH. I remember seeing it on Ally McBeal -- yes, I'm that old! -- and just tearing up. He's got a great voice).

Christmas cookies.

So if I only have to bring three dozen to the coffee and the recipe makes six dozen, how much dough and how many cookies can I eat and still be in the safe zone?