Doing Christmas the German way.

What to expect on Christmas: family, food, alcohol and tradition.

Now times that by 10 and you will have what you should expect on a German Christmas. 

This includes: cousins I have never met, sour meat, another shot of schnapps I didn't need - followed by midnight mass.

Let's start with the family. Every year my father, the German enforcer, convinces us that instead of staying home and relaxing we should find some kind of German community to celebrate with.

Sometimes we can get away with making a weekend trip to the Turn Verein (the German stronghold of downtown Sacramento, located at 3349 J Street). 

Each year, shortly after Thanksgiving, the Turn Verein holds a two-day Christkindlmarkt, which is basically just a party with German performers, German food, German drinks and many booths selling German things. Shocking, I know.

Other times, like last Christmas, the Turn Verein wasn't enough for the pops. So he decided Munich was the place to be. Although it may sound like he dragged the family to Europe, I was on his side in the argument to travel abroad for the holidays. Any traveling to a new place is okay by me.

Nonetheless, after the trip to Germany I was exhausted and wished that I had stayed home for winter break to catch up on some much needed sleep and relaxation. Also, I semi-regretted that I was unable to see any of my close friends, who came home from school for the holidays. Instead I met a ton of new people and by people I mean relatives that I didn't know existed.

The food and alcohol involved in Christmas festivities can be grouped together, because much of the cooking requires alcohol as an ingredient according to my German relatives. And if alcohol isn't in the instructions then drinking alcohol while cooking is definitely in order, they assured me.

My favorite part about the Germans is that they use the excuse "it's good for digestion" after every shot of schnapps. The problem being, that they take a shot after every bite. A problem or a gift? That's yet to be decided. 

From weisswurst and sauerbraten to slivovitz and radler, whether it's in Munich or at the Turn Verein, the amount of meat and alcohol consumed at any German Christmas is just about more than I can handle.

I remember one Christmas in particular we flew to Chibougamau, Canada to celebrate with some German relatives. At dinner, my grandma's sister, who has Alzheimer's, grabbed my arm, begin swinging side-to-side - singing a German drinking song and refusing to quit until the entire table had it memorized.

She would then turn to me and say, "This is my first schnopps, right?" 

Her daughter across the table would quickly respond, "Grandma, that's your seventh."

"SEVENTH! Who let me have seven schnopps?!...Well I'd better have another," she'd say.

But what would a German Christmas be without tradition. Perhaps my favorite and the most useless tradition adopted by my family (which is not necessarily of German descent) is attending midnight mass every Christmas Eve. 

After a dinner full of meat and alcohol (as mentioned above), my family thinks the perfect way to top off a night is to fill a pew at the nearest Catholic church...and take a nap.

At first I protested the midnight mass tradition because I didn't understand why one night was worthy of church service when we didn't attend any other night of the year - but then I realized my family's real motive. Whether they'd like to admit it or not, every time we sit down for the midnight mass, my entire family passes out (some even snore).

I know you expected for the tradition to be of Christmas cheer and German derivations, but sometimes that's what make traditions so great - they're weird. And in fact, that's what makes Christmases so great - each family celebrates differently and with a different caliber of weird.

Like my family, who celebrates the German way, with unfamiliar Germans, German meat, German drinks and not so German traditions.

Rationalize the irrational.

Oh the joys of the holidays - a time of the year when everyone gets to be uncomfortably close with family and endure awkward, unwanted conversations daily.

It's a time when even the most disciplined realist falls victim to irrational behavior.

Exhibit A: Listening to a grandpa preach his religious beliefs on you, becoming increasingly frustrated when he refuses to listen to your side and yet still walk away giggling at his stubbornness - because he's your grandpa and unlike everyone else in the world, his old-time beliefs don't bother you too much.

Exhibit B: Agreeing to write a list of ten things you are thankful for - even though you strongly believe that actions speak louder than words and emotions should never be verbalized.

Here it goes.

1) Reliable, mature relationships - After 21 years of dropping dead weight, I finally feel like I have a solid group of close, meaningful friends and family. Some are old and some are new. The old relationships have shaped me into the persona I portray today, which is inevitably flawed, and the new relationships have constantly made me question the persona I portray today, which in turn fosters daily personal growth.

2) Parents - When I think about having children I realize how selfless a GOOD parent must be. The amount of opportunities my parents supplied me are endless. From financing to logic, my parents have fully-equipped me to successfully handle myself in the real world. I can not imagine being placed with some of the parents my best friend's had growing up - I was just happy that at the end my juvenile sleepovers I would get to go home to my parents, where I was the first priority and not an obligation.

3) Variety - I appreciate the evangelical bible-thumpers telling me I'm a whore on campus. I appreciate the car who almost hit me while I was walking to class. I appreciate the customer at my job who asked for ketchup with their lobster tail. Each one of us are unique in some way or another, with different motivations and different insights. Not only does this variety keep my life interesting but it enables me to learn something new about human nature regularly.

4) Curiosity - Every time I hear about an individual researching or discovering a new process or tidbit of information I am enthralled. It inspires me that people in the world are genuinely interested in their surroundings and not just walking through life with a certain air of indifference. If I've learned anything this year it's that indifference solves nothing.

5) Living situation - I live in a beautiful location on 40th Street downtown with my sister, 25. Let's just say a Taqueria and few bars are close by. Convenience paired with a reliable, tolerable roommate equates to a happy home.

6) The State Hornet - Although it is practically the death of me in regards to lack of sleep and insanity, without my job at the Hornet I would be missing the rapid development as a journalist I am now receiving. Not to mention the sense of belongingness working close to like-minded individuals builds.

7) Spontaneity - This is a value that was instilled in me at a young age and without it I would get lost in the "daily grind," especially considering my tendency to overload.

8) Knowledge - We live in a world where knowledge is easily accessible. I am glad that I will soon be able to supply valuable information to the public that will ultimately educate the masses. I look forward to continuing to learn something new everyday and becoming an expert on new subject matter daily.

9) Travel, other cultures - self explanatory.

10) Differing opinions - Controversy is healthy and develops discussion and contemplation that is necessary. More specifically, I only appreciate individuals who are able to intelligently express their opinion with a valid backing. Differing opinions like being too stubborn to actually list things I'm thankful for.

In the grand scheme of things, I guess irrationality every once in a while isn't so bad - especially when it creates a type of self-exploration like creating this list did for me.

Grim Reapers aren't all bad.

A television series based on a group of humanized grim reapers made me grin, smile and even chuckle a little bit.

Although the basis of the series revolves around people dying, I finished watching the first episode of Dead Like Me feeling content and even a little chipper.

Although the plot sounds grim (pun intended) the producers do a good job of portraying the grim reapers not as killers but as "people doing their job" and guiding the dying person's soul away from their body - thus the content, chipper emotions I was experiencing.

The humor used in the show is what really kept me interested. The interaction between all of the grim reapers is rooted in very dry sarcasm. But I suppose if you have to discuss death on a daily basis your humor is going to be a little off-kilter. (Still trying to figure out what my excuse is.)

Here's a visual representation of what I mean: all grim reapers meet at Der Waffle House every morning for breakfast, coffee, bitching and to receive a sticky note from the head grim reaper with a name, address and time of death on it.

If there is any way to make light of death it's by putting it on a sticky note and delivering it alongside french toast.

In particular, the main character, George, has the driest humor of them all.

She starts off the season with a monologue about the creation of time in which she states, "God, lowercase g, was getting busy with creation - as kids these days are saying."

Then she goes on to explain the history of death as a toad who was given an assignment by god to watch a jar full of "death." Then one day toad gave into frog's pleas to play with the jar of death and frog dropped the jar letting death loose to kill all living things. 

She ends the monologue with, "Yeah, frog is an asshole."

Maybe I am partial to George's personality because I can relate to her, but either way she's hilarious.

George is a blonde, 18-year-old girl who is perhaps a little bitter and indifferent, which is ironic since she holds a career at "Happy Time." A perfect depiction of George comes in the beginning of the episode when she said, "I excel at not giving a shit." Three minutes later, George dies.

After George dies she is picked up to work as a grim reaper. This means a few things, she is still alive in the flesh and able to be a part of society, but her face is distorted to look different than her original persona.

The biggest conflict in the first episode is rooted in George not knowing what to do with her life - she is at a stand-still after just quitting college and working a nine-to-five, deadbeat job. Then when she dies the rest of the episode continues in a similar fashion, except now she's trying to figure out what to do with her dead-life. 

Who would of though I'd be so enthralled with dead-lives? There's just a sense of irony to them that I can't get enough of.

Support local breweries? Don't mind if I do.

Most people frequent Rubicon Brewery because it is one of the few local breweries in the Sacramento area. The slogan on their website is, "Change your status from beer enthusiast to beer activist. Support your local brewery!"

No problem, Rubicon. I'm on it.

The inside of Rubicon seems cold and slightly unwelcoming at first glance, with only wood and metal paneling as decor. But as soon as a few of those micro-brewed beers are set in front of you, you're right at home. 

Although I have had lunch at Rubicon before, this time around was the first time I was of-age and able to enjoy a beer with my meal.

As I skimmed through the beer menu my eye fell on one particular brew: the Monkey Knife Fight. With a name like that, who's not going to try it?

The beer in no way reminded me of a monkey knife fight but that's neither here nor there. The american pale ale went down smoothly and tasted delicious on that rainy Sabbath. 

I may not be the best candidate for reviewing beer though, because I will stomach just about any beer. To me, beer is beer and beer is good - but I did appreciate that my beer was brewed locally and I was being an activist in drinking it. So kudos to me?

Perhaps my favorite part of Rubicon is that they deliver quality substance across the board. Their beer is brewed in house and their food selection isn't bad either.

Although my stomach and brain had a debacle in food choice that day, eventually I went with my brain and decided to try something new and unfamiliar - the chicken pesto sandwich. 

(In case you were wondering my stomach was yearning for the ever-so familiar fish and chips - that stuff always tastes the same to me, which is very fish-and-chip-like.)

Needless to say, I made the right decision. The sandwich was hearty, filling and had substance. The chicken inside the sandwich tasted like chicken. Wild, I know. What I mean by that is it tasted like the free-range organic chicken my parents barbeque at home, not the cardboard, dry chicken McDonalds frisbees to passerby cars.

On top of the juicy meat and crunchy sourdough roll, there was a pesto spread combined with a sun-dried tomatoes that made for a perfect neutral flavor. Topped with my all time favorite cheese, provolone. Perfection.

And luckily, I was able to achieve the level of comfort I would have with the fish and chips because my sandwich was paired with the ever-so-familiar waffle fries. Score.

In retrospect, I should have known I was going to enjoy my meal because when I ordered our waitress said, "That's so weird. I've been here all day and I haven't had a single table where at least one person hasn't ordered the chicken pesto sandwich."

So what? Apparently I'm a bandwagoner. Who cares, it was a phenomenal sandwich paired with a tasty beer in a plain, calm location.

Not a bad Sunday if you ask me.

Forget zombies, kids are taking over the world.

Children are a lot more evil and manipulative than we give them credit for; take Halloween for an example.

Somehow the youngsters throughout the world have banded together and managed to transform a celtic celebration into a holiday revolving solely around them.

"Mom make me a Cinderella costume!"

"No I don't want to be Bell anymore - that was last week!"

"You guys only have kit kats? (eye roll)"

But my favorite Halloween remark made by the kiddies to date happened this past weekend.

After a five-hour plane ride, I arrived back at my home in downtown Sacramento at 9 p.m. As I lugged my bags up my driveway three kids approached me.

"Trick or treat!"

My response?

"Uh, I don't live here." (Obviously lying, but come on kids I haven't even walked in my house yet.)

As they meander off, being bothersome throughout the neighborhood, I quickly unlock my door, jump inside my house and turn off my porch light.

Once I enter my house I see my sister curled up in the fetal position on the couch.

"Dude, I forgot to buy candy. They've been harassing our house all night," she giggled nervously.

A minute goes by...

Knock. Knock. Knock.

We sit, frozen in terror.

"TRICK OR TREAT!...Come on, it's Halloween!"

Another needy child chimes in.

"Seriously?! We said, 'TRICK or TREAT!,'" the kid whined. "FINE! WE'LL STEAL YOUR PORCH CHAIRS INSTEAD!"

So, somehow a celebration in honor of the dead has turned into munchins with sugar highs, which (apparently) results in angry retaliation?

One question. Where are the parents? I guess one day the parents just decided, "Welp, you're seven now. Off you go," and pushed them into the street without important warnings like, "Don't knock on doors with their porch lights off."

Not only is that dangerous for the little ones, but it is common courtesy. If a household wishes to provide children with their sugar fix they will have their porch light on and will more than likely have a jack-o-lantern on their doorstep. Two things of which I had neither.

Common sense people, let's use it.

Enough ranting, the bottom line is that the aggressive nature of trick-or-treaters this Halloween appalled me. When did children become so self-entitled?

In my trick-or-treating days, it was a good Halloween if I came home without pissing my pants - didn't matter to me whether I had kit kats or laffy taffy. 

But kids now days are relentless. Driving through the "Fab 40s" in downtown Sacramento was like playing frogger - but the kids were the cars and my car was the frog. 

It seemed that parents had bussed their spawn into the richest part of Sacramento so that they would get full-sized candy bars and not have to be in charge of satisfying their kid's sugar craving for the night. 

I honestly feel bad for homeowners anywhere near 40th Street. If the kids are okay with stealing porch chairs from poor college students, who knows what they'll do to millionaires who fail to provide Halloween satisfaction.

I'm telling you, these kids are evil. I wouldn't put anything past them. It's like baby geniuses, all grown up and taking over the world - starting with Halloween.

Maslow is a wise man.

When it comes to finances I listen to Mr. Maslow. As in, Abraham Maslow - the father of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. 

For those of you who haven't been taught this concept seven times throughout your educational career, I'll brief you in. 

Maslow's hierarchy of needs is meant to do exactly what it sounds like; it is Maslow's interpretation of which human needs have priority over other needs. First on his list, ranking at "most important," are physiological needs.

So, thanks to Maslow, when budgeting for the month I think about my physiological needs first. Will I be able to eat at least two meals a day? Check. Will I be able to pay rent and keep my electricity on? Check. 

After placing my priorities in order and putting survival first, I move on down the ladder. 

Second on Maslow's hierarchy are safety needs. So, I make sure I have enough in the ole' bank account to keep a full tank of gas throughout the month. 

Nothing like not running out of gas at 2 a.m. to keep you safe.

And so Maslow's list goes on with my logic in spending basically mirroring his logic in needs:

3) belongingness needs - going out with friends.

4) self-esteem needs - setting aside enough non-work hours to succeed in school.

5) self-actualization - buying a new book and educating myself.

All the way down to the sixth most important item, aesthetic needs. By this point my funds are usually running pretty low, but it really doesn't stop me.

Sure, I'm a college student who works three jobs and still manages lives below the poverty line, but I think it's important to spend the money I earn on things I want. Isn't that what we all work for? To buy things we want?

I don't get fulfillment just out of looking at my money, so instead I like to see my money transform into things (as materialistic as that may sound).

I think it is important to splurge, but to splurge with moderation. Normally, I spend about $100 per month on aesthetic things like new clothes. 

Another chunk of that $100 is normally spent on alcohol consumption and letting loose - which I sometimes consider medicinal, but for all-mature purposes I'll place it under aesthetics where it actually belongs.

The way I view finance is this: human beings are at the top of the food chain for a reason, because we have developed logical minds.

Being logical is the leading factor behind Maslow's hierarchy of needs and in turn behind my own personal finance philosophy.

For example, I maxed out my credit card on flights and train tickets for my trip through Europe this summer, but I did this knowing that I had a job lined up as print managing editor at The State Hornet for the following year. Already, only two months into the semester I have paid off half of my debt.

Although not all members of society speak fluent logic, having a logical mind puts us in a place of power. A place where personal finance should not be daunting.

Instead of stressing over finance, let's just all collectively use our brains and make the right decisions.

For example, don't want to fall victim to credit card debt? Don't spend money you don't have or know you won't be able to have sometime in the near future.

Listen to Maslow and choose dinner over the newest coach purse.

The man your mother told you to avoid

After turning down a full-ride scholarship to the University of San Francisco, Dan Walters, columnist at the Sacramento Bee, decided to drop out of high school.

"I'm the person your mother told you never to associate with," Walters said. 

Walters, who now writes about Sacramento politics, was a National Merit Scholarship winner and would have graduated fourth in his senior class at his high school in Eureka. Instead, Walters bypassed his final required class and continued on as copy boy at the local paper.

"The powerful truth is that the one class I didn't pass to reach my diploma, was civics," Walters said. "Ironic because this is basically what I write about now. I've written books about it. I've taught it in college classes. Just haven't passed the high school class."

As a teenager, Walters was an emancipated minor, going to school and working as a copy boy at the paper six nights a week.

"Frankly, I was just having too much fun," he said. "Working at the paper, online poker games, girl friends - they all led to another and high school just lost its allure."

Walters has now been in the journalism field for 35 years and has written approximately 7,500 columns, every one of which he said he thinks is perfect.

"I try to write like I'm telling a story. I like to be conversational and straight forward. Sometimes with an ironic twist and play on words," he said.

Walters originally began writing columns because he didn't like being stuck in the story form of regular news writing.

"I didn't like having to try to get people to say what you want them to say and the burden of quoting," he said. "I just wanted to be able to say, 'This is the way it is - period. Take my word for it.'"

Walters' writing career began in Lancaster, Calif. at Antelope Valley High School. Because Walters changed high schools frequently he entered Antelope Valley half way through the year.

"I was interested in photography but the school only had a position on the paper as a writer - so I took the position and really liked it," Walters said. "The next year I became the editor and the rest is history - I never really did anything else."

Before working in Sacramento politics, Walters was the main editor at three separate newspapers: the Hanford Sentinel from 1966-69, the Chronicle Oregon Herald from 1969-71 and a Eureka publication from 1971-73. Walters said all newspapers were small but still built up a lot of his experience.

"It was an odd career," he said. "Being editor of three different newspapers before I was 30."

In '73 Walters began working at Stockton's edition of the union, while "moonlighting" as an adviser to the University of Pacific in Stockton.

"The truth is, I had a couple of kids and I needed the extra money for the teaching, but I still enjoyed it," Walters said. "It definitely wasn't a chore to me."

Eventually, Stockton's edition of the union shut down and Walters moved to Sacramento. From there he applied for the opening at the capital bureau and was accepted.

"Since then I've been in the same building on four different floors," he said.

Although Walters now has his niche in Sacramento politics he said he is in no way a "political junkie."

"A lot of people in my business are political junkies - I'm not. I don't particularly care about politics in terms of campaigns and conventions," Walter said. "I find it to be mostly boring and irrelevant. I write about it, sure, it's what I do, but what I'm really interested in is the interaction of government and society."