There are about two and a half hours left in 2006.

There are numerous things that happened this past year, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who wishes they could rewind time and do some things over. I suppose the only thing you can do is look at 2007 as a chance to do better.

Since I left for break, I've been working out as much as possible. We have a treadmill and bike in our basement now, and I either ride the bike on the difficult level or run. I want to make a trip to the Incline before break ends; it might be my last chance for a while.

I feel so much better when I'm in shape, both physically and mentally. I figure I need it to stay sane after the events of the past year. A goal of mine is to run a half marathon, and then a marathon, but that's going to take a lot of commitment and training. Why not?

I took my dog walking through some knee deep snow, and it basically enveloped her up to her chest. She had to hop around to get out, and she looked like an oversized rabbit. More snow to come!

My Wolfgang Borchert book came in today, and I've started reading the poems. It will give me enough German language to chew on for the next semester. Ausgezeichnet!

Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobiacs (#64)

Some of these will make you chuckle . . .

http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/magazinemonitor/2006/12/100_things_we_didnt_know_last_2.shtml

Sometimes, I really wish I would have talked to my uncle about more . . . personal things. Old boyfriends, college, social work, religion, the future; I think I could have gained a lot of wisdom from him. He did teach me a lot through just being who he was, but sometimes, more than anything, I just miss listening and talking to him, and I would give anything just to sit with him over coffee and chat.

He didn't judge, and he didn't preach. He loved and he nurtured, and he understood that we are all only human.

I know I'm going to be influenced by him when I start working. I hear and read what people have said about him, and I want to be just like that.

Before I left for break, I wrote this poem for my roommates.

A Tribute to my Roommates

The semester has come to an end
Which leads me to tell you, my friend,
About my three roommates
Who, on their birthdates,
Were named Eric, Matt and Tony.

Now, Eric likes to read
On magazines does his brain feed
Of their content we don't speak
Because they cause Karin's feminism to leak
And that's a warning one should heed.

Matt likes to play "World of Warcraft"
And he knows the meaning of "fabelhaft"
Sometimes he imitates Shakira
He used to have a hole in his ear-a
But now he sticks out his pierced tongue for a laugh.

Tony is not the least bit viscious
And "Ton Loc" is written on his dishes
He plays hockey inside
By rules he does not abide
By the way . . . your pineapple was delicious!

Now, Ham's presence I must highlight.
The boys joke about eating her off a skewer
So that the world would have one hamster fewer
But when everyone's tucked in their beds
I know the idea enters their heads
To sneak down and kiss her goodnight!

2006 was one bad thing followed by another, beginning in January and ending in December.

Will 2007 be different? I can only hope.

Christmas was calm and peaceful. The difference between this year and last year was the presence of my uncle John, my grandma, and another one of my uncles and his family, who recently moved away.

It's strange, this thing called loss.

Another article about my uncle.

'Father Mac' changed many lives for the better

By Hector Gutierrez, Rocky Mountain News

December 21, 2006

The Rev. John D. McCormick couldn't stand to be referred to as Father John.

"There are too many Father Johns," he would tell his congregation and staff.

Call him Father Mac instead, he insisted.

For the past 31 years that nickname stuck for the thousands of his parishioners and parochial school students that the Rev. McCormick served in the metro area and Colorado Springs.

When he died Dec. 2 of prostate cancer, his congregation remembered and praised him as Father Mac, the jovial Catholic priest who touched their lives. He was 57 when he died at the rectory of the Nativity of Our Lord Catholic Church in Broomfield.

Denver Archbishop Charles Chaput presided over the funeral service for the Rev. McCormick on Monday at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.

"When he was so sick and dying, I said, 'John, you have touched the lives of thousands of people in their lifetime and many at the most desperate times of their lives,' " remembered Susan Pamperin, the reverend's sister, of one of their final conversations together.

"Everybody had a beautiful story: 'He baptized my grandchildren. He buried my husband. He helped me when my son was killed in an accident.' I heard so many stories."

In addition to overseeing the church's activities and the community's 2,700 families, the Rev. McCormick helped supervise the Nativity of Our Lord Catholic School, where he helped lead a staff teaching 490 students from grades K through eight, and another couple of hundred youngsters who attended the church's religious academy.

One of his last wishes was fulfilled before he died, his friends and family said. His church held its first gala fundraiser on Nov. 18 for the Nativity of Our Lord School Foundation, a scholarship program named after the Rev. McCormick that would help pay the tuition for families who couldn't afford it.

The Rev. McCormick's deteriorating physical condition prevented him from attending the gala he helped organize.

"It was difficult for him because he couldn't attend," said Maureen Epson, the business administrator for the Nativity of Our Lord Church. "But as sick as he was he was so thrilled of the success of the gala."

The Rev. McCormick was born March 13, 1949, in York, Neb. His family moved to Colorado Springs when he was 8, and he attended St. Mary's High School. After graduating from high school, the Rev. McCormick, a math whiz, enrolled at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs and planned to pursue a career in engineering.

His career in engineering went out the window after a year, Pamperin, his sister, said.

"After one year of college he discerned his vocation to be the priesthood," she said.

Pamperin said she doesn't recall any major life event that led to her brother's metamorphosis to the priesthood, though, she remembered that when they were children he often acted out the role of a priest and she would play the role of a nun. Her family, she said, were devout Catholics.

"He just felt a calling," Pamperin said.

The Rev. McCormick joined St. Thomas Seminary in Denver in 1969 and became an ordained priest on May 31, 1975. In his first assignment, the Rev. McCormick was parochial vicar at St. Joan of Arc Catholic Church in Arvada. He later was transferred to Corpus Christi Catholic Church in Colorado Springs.

The Rev. McCormick eventually moved back to Denver, where he was an associate pastor at St. Thomas Moore Catholic Church.

His first assignment as a pastor - in which he was in charge of church operations - occurred in 1985 when he was assigned to St. Theresa's Catholic Church in Frederick. As the head pastor at St. Theresa's, he also was responsible for St. Scholastica Catholic Church in Erie and Guardian Angels Catholic Church in Mead.

In 1988, he was transferred to St. Anne's Catholic Church in Arvada where he led the parish for 13 years, the longest pastorate of his priesthood. While at St. Anne's, he oversaw the construction of the much- needed community center. Against his wishes the congregation named the facility the McCormick Center.

"He wasn't in favor of it, and they said, 'Too bad, we're doing it anyway,' " said Donna Farrell, a close friend of the reverend.

In June 2001, the Rev. McCormick was reassigned for the final time to Broomfield's Nativity of Our Lord Catholic Church.

"Father John McCormick was the consummate people person," Epson said. "He touched people's lives, and people who were having difficulty, and people who had questions about their faith, as soon as they met Father Mac, they would change for the better."

Although he was stricken with cancer and undergoing chemotherapy, he vowed not to let up in his vocation. He said as much in his last letter he wrote in the church bulletin to his flock: "I decided to remain at Nativity as your pastor as long as I am able. You are my family and I can think of no better place to spend my final time as a priest. Each and every one of you are a blessing in my life."

In addition to Pamperin, the Rev. McCormick's survivors include two brothers, Patrick, of Littleton, and William, of Petersburg, Alaska; four nieces; and one nephew. He was preceded in death by his parents, John McCormick Sr. and Joan McCormick, and a brother, Charles.

Donations can be made to the McCormick Family Scholarship Fund, the Nativity of Our Lord School, 900 W. Midway Blvd., Broomfield, CO 80020.

I went to change the cage for my seven Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches last night. They had some dried apples in there for food, but I think they took to eating the fake plastic grass that I had put in there to vamp up the aesthetics.

I say this because the "blades" of the grass were much shorter, as if they had been nibbled on, and there were green specks in the roaches' droppings.

I've been DYING to post this.

We didn't quite get this much snow, but this is what it looked like in Denver:

I checked my grades, and I pulled a 3.8 for this past semester. Ahh, relief.

It's snowing/ blizzarding outside. My dad was supposed to go to WI to see his family for Christmas, but his flight was cancelled. I'm glad he'll be able to stay here, with us.

We adopted my uncle's cat, and she's taken to sleeping in the suitcase I brought home for break. She also sits on the furnace vents, and covers them completely with her chubbiness. Having a cat has made my life complete . . .

I bought the complete works of Wolfgang Borchert in German. I'm not taking any German classes next semester, but I think I can keep up my knowledge if I continue to read in the language.

That's about as exciting as it gets.

Another change I'm making in my life:

http://www.brown.edu/Student_Services/Health_Services/Health_Education/nutrition/
veg.htm

I've been thinking about going this route for a while, and the time is nigh.

Sometimes, being back in Fort Collins sounds damn good.

If you haven't seen Little Miss Sunshine, I highly recommend that you do.

http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/little_miss_sunshine/
http://www.blockbuster.com/online/catalog/movieAllDetails?movieId=271419

It comes out at Blockbuster on 12/19, I believe.

"Kablamo" - Incredibad

"Your water is watery!" I laughed.

Since summer 2005, I've been thinking about applying to the Peace Corps.

http://www.peacecorps.gov/

I thought that Scott was going to be a part of my future, and as much as I would have liked that, it's not going to happen. He told me that explicitly.

Thus, I've had to begin to concentrate on myself, and only myself. I haven't had any other option except to look at my life, realize I'm graduating in May, and figure out where I'm going afterwards.

I'm 21 years old.

My uncle died last week at the age of 57. Life goes too fast.

It's time for me to get a clue, and I think I've finally got one.

I had my ears rechecked today.

The doc found the hole on my left eardrum, meaning that the fluid can drain out. There was no hole on the right eardrum, meaning that there's still fluid in there.

That means that I still can't hear like normal, so bear with me.

My uncle's funeral was on Monday, and there was viewing and a vigil on Sunday.

My mom didn't get a rest. Multitudes of people came up to her to tell their story about my uncle. It was non stop. By the end of the funeral reception, I think we were all exhausted.

As soon as they opened the casket at the viewing and I saw him in there, the events of the past nine weeks somehow compacted themselves and hit me in the chest.

It was real.

The following day a friend of his brought over a DVD of compiled pictures she had made, dating from his elementary school days to three weeks ago.

It's in the comparing of the past and the present where you realize what is gone.

My family has a lot of adjusting to do, and that will come with time.

Let it be said, we lost a good man.

Unexpected career turns into blessing for many

Nativity's Father Mac planned to be engineer

By Jolie Breeden

Friday, December 8, 2006

His laughter gave him away.

Booming and infectious, the laughter of Father John D. McCormick always let his parishioners know right where he was.

"You could hear it through the whole building," said Nativity of Our Lord receptionist Janice Dawson. "Everybody knew about his laugh."

The famous laugh rang out at Broomfield's Nativity of Our Lord Catholic Church for the past five years — at carnival dunking booths, during water fights with the parish children or just because someone needed to hear it.

"If you were having a bad day or something was going wrong, he would start his laugh," Dawson said. "He was a man of laughter."

Father McCormick, better known as Father Mac, died Saturday from complications of prostate cancer. He was 57.

The much-loved priest blessed Broomfield literally and figuratively since moving to Nativity from the Shrine of St. Anne in Arvada in 2001. He immediately set about making a home for himself in the community.

"He always talked about Nativity as family," said Deacon Dick Medenwaldt, who's known Father Mac for more than 20 years. "He made every person feel like they were the only person there."

It was a gift Father Mac always possessed, said his sister, Susan Pamperin of Colorado Springs. At its base were sincerity and a down-to-earth good nature.

"I think that's why so many people loved him," she said. "He could identify with them and they could identify with him. He could laugh at himself. He was just such a human being."

Father Mac was born March 13, 1939, in York, Neb., the first child of John D. McCormick, Sr. and Joan Schark McCormick. The family, which eventually included Pamperin and two younger brothers — Patrick and Bill — moved to Colorado Springs around 1947, when McCormick Sr. found work building the Air Force Academy, Pamperin said.

Although Father Mac grew up in a family of tight-knit, observant Catholics, Pamperin said she never expected her brother to become a priest — and neither did he.

"He thought he was going to be an engineer," she said. "I think he just felt a special calling."

That calling caused him to drop his course work at the University of Colorado in Colorado Springs and attend St. Thomas Seminary in Denver in the early '70s. He was ordained into the priesthood in 1975 and ministered to congregations in Frederick, Erie, Colorado Springs and Mead before beginning his longest tenure at St. Anne's in 1988.

While there he did much for children's programs, school renovations and even had a community building —the McCormick Center— named for him. But only against his will.

"He didn't want that building named after him, but (the parishioners) just said 'Sorry, Father, we're going to do it anyway,'" Pamperin said. "He was just so well-loved."

Father Mac continued to inspire devotion when he moved to Nativity, Medenwaldt said.

"I think we probably have a vast, vast majority of people who truly loved him as a priest," he said.

That majority surrounded Father Mac in his last days, Pamperin said, supporting him with visits, food and anything else he needed. With his sister's care, and the support of the church, he was able to remain Nativity's pastor until he died.

"He wanted to keep going for as long as he could," Pamperin said. "He wasn't ready to throw in the towel."

But in September, Father Mac wrote a letter to the parish, whom he called "my dear family," telling them of his terminal illness. He said his last public mass on Oct. 8, but his sister said he continues to guide his flock.

"He's taught us so much," she said. "I think he's taught us through his dying, just as he taught us by the way he lived."

Just so you know, I can't hear.

I found out I had two ear infections, and although they're clearing up, a lot of things just sound like akdflkadshflashfd.

I give you fair warning.

http://www.nidcd.nih.gov/health/hearing/otitism.asp

Regina Spektor- "On the Radio"

This is how it works
It feels a little worse
Than when we drove our hearse
Right through that screaming crowd
While laughing up a storm
Until we were just bone
Until it got so warm
That none of us could sleep
And all the styrofoam
Began to melt away
We tried to find some words
To aid in the decay
But none of them were home
Inside their catacomb
A million ancient bees
Began to sting our knees
While we were on our knees
Praying that disease
Would leave the ones we love
And never come again

On the radio
We heard November Rain
That solo's really long
But it's a pretty song
We listened to it twice
'Cause the DJ was asleep

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

And on the radio
You hear November Rain
That solo's awful long
But it's a good refrain
You listen to it twice
'Cause the DJ is asleep
On the radio
(oh oh oh)
On the radio
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio - uh oh
On the radio

This is a site where people send in their secrets.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

I'd like to get a look at the book.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Here's to my uncle. He was really a good, good man who went too, too soon. If I can be more like anyone, I hope it is him, and I mean that.

He really was a man of love, understanding, and warm acceptance.

Sometimes you get to know people even more after death, and it's just now that I'm seeing who he really was.

To be continued.

Maybe not.

Yes, it was a hard pill to swallow, but after a few very strong amaretto sours, some dramatics and maybe 21 gummi bears I think I'm going to be ok.

We met. We talked. We're going to be friends. Not "together" again, but friends.

I think I can live with that. It gives me closure.

We talked for about an hour, and it felt like we were old buddies just meeting for a regular beer after work.

It felt good.

And then we separated, and I was alone. The leather seats in my car hit my legs like sheets of ice.

And I didn't know what to do next.

I figured something out.

5 hours later, I'm back where I started.

But it's time to move on.

I bought Mitch Albom's new book tonight.

Maybe it'll lead me to some enlightenment.

Maybe it was a waste of $20.

I'm hoping it's the former.