The vacation extended itself right into the annual Journey Across the Eastern Seaboard^TM.

This fine New Year’s Evening we’re sitting in front of a fire in Vermont at her in-laws, sipping some red wine, and watching the rain come down, putting a bit of a damper on the bonfire.

When last we left you, loyal readers and friends, Mrs Martial and I were on our way to Paris and Copenhagen for a few days of fun by our own selves before the deluge of family obligations.

Paris was a pure pleasure, an indulgence of a long-standing desire to travel together to the city of light. We both had been to Paris, but never together. Indeed, the last time for both of us had been fifteen long years ago, on the cusp of adulthood, and, coincidentally, we were there at the same time. This, however, was years even before we knew one another and began to share our love and our lives. Of course we needed to return, to raise two glasses and imbibe a small draught of what it was to be young and in Paris. We also went to see a city changed by the intervening years - as we have been - and grown strange to our younger selves, but no less magnificent.

Copenhagen paid for Paris (in part; my travel certainly). I had meetings there and a workshop. Denmark’s capital is a city I love, while Mrs Martial had never been. I was able to share the perfect walks, the holiday bustle, the pure love of style. She was able to convince me to actually enter into museums, to attend concerts, to finally visit Tivoli!

We returned to the land of our birth in good spirits, picked up our loyal and precious dog from her boarding house, whirled through our offices for a brief appearance, and set out to visit both sets of in-laws – and all family members in between.

The holidays have been celebrated with wine and song, feasts both sweet and savory, lengthy winter naps, and a nearly (though not totally) complete absence of news.

In a few moments I’ll get up to check the roast and refill my glass.

May your New Year be filled with love and joy. May it bring hope and a helping hand to the suffering. And may this New Year be one of peace.

I am actually getting on an airplane for fun. Mrs Martial and I are off to Paris for a few days - our first trip overseas together.

I'm told France is civilized, so we'll likely have access to at least one of the internets.

The President unveiled another "uniform" ¹, this time talking to Marines. As if we needed more evidence of rank foolishness, this fetish for the military reveals an ongoing fundamental misunderstanding of the role "Commander-in-Chief".

There is a second, mocking, comparative picture on Eschaton. I too was reminded of SF uniforms, but when thinking about skiffy and Bush, the persistent image is of Karl Rove strolling into a conference room just to tell actor Bruce Boxleitner how much he and Bush love Babylon 5.

So isn't it about time someone explained to them that in the series the President is the bad guy?

. . .

¹ Epaulets don't appear on most civilian clothing outside of the, uh, trench coat.

I've seen the news that the body originally thought to be Margaret Hassan's is not hers. That opens up a few questions, including who is it? The list of people who have been kidnapped is pretty well-known and this person doesn't appear to have been on it. Strange.

However, we shouldn't get our hopes up about Margaret. I've spoken to people at CARE and they do not think she's still alive. The comment that hit a nerve was, "The guys who took Margaret were idiots. They had no idea who she was."

We often assume too much knowledge or too much purpose on the part of the bad and the mad. They manage to pull off some great coup - destroying a building and dozens, hundreds of lives, or kidnapping or killing a significant person - which puts their actions and whatever vague statements they've made front and center in the media spotlight and we all too often think they must have planned it that way.

Most criminals aren't that bright. They are in it for the money or the street cred or the blowing shit up and, in conflict zones, they often don't really plan ahead for what comes after.

May you never be in a situation where stupid people have the power of life and death over you.

Eric Alterman repeats the mantra - and gives us a host of reasons to really believe it:

Unlike Vietnam, our allies are treating the local populace well and are fighting effectively.

Unlike Vietnam, our troops are not torturing anyone or committing any atrocities anywhere.

Unlike Vietnam, our allies are committed to democracy, and are capable and experienced in carrying it out.

Unlike Vietnam, we are backing strong, independent leaders, rather than quislings and puppets whose power base rests with our military forces and economic support.

Unlike Vietnam, we are beloved by the people we are saving.

Unlike Vietnam, our president and his cabinet officers are leveling with the nation about the costs of victory and likelihood of defeat.

Unlike Vietnam, we have the support of the international community.

Unlike Vietnam, we have the whole thing well-planned out.

There are surely more. Build your own! Fun for the whole family! Here, for example, is a real reason why Iraq is not Vietnam:

Iraq's urban guerilla warfare doesn't really offer defoliation as a strategy. You can't drop Agent Orange on a city. Well, I guess you can, but that's more of a long term strategy . . . or maybe not.

" Because this commercial touches on the exclusion of gay couples and other minority groups by other individuals and organizations ... this spot is unacceptable for broadcast " - part of an explanation by CBS

I'm relaxing on the couch Sunday, watching my Patriots rip apart the Browns on CBS. During many of the post-touchdown commercial breaks, there was a spot for T-Mobile where couples confront one another over the fact that their cell phone bills are so high because they're always calling each other. T-Mobile solves this particular fiscal/relationship crisis by offering free calls between lovebirds.

Of course, what struck me about all this is that one of the couples clearly consists of two men.

And very good they were.

The first, on assistance in conflict zones and how to engage in it without having a negative impact on the conflict, was not really about gathering lessons, but about catching up on the state of the world and our work in it. We actually already know quite a bit about working in conflict zones. We're not so good at conveying what we know to other actors or getting them to listen when we try.

A crucial reminder that was repeated often was that the experience of Iraq is not normative. Most of the world didn't change on September 11th or in March 2003 and, from a humanitarian perspective, it doesn't look so different. We also agreed to disagree - as we always do at such conferences - about the "state of humanitarianism" and whether or not this should be the year we reevaluate everything. (Nearly needless to say, I think this is one of the silly conversations, but it means a lot to some people.)

The second was a learning conference for a project investigating communities in conflict zones that develop strategies to keep out of or to exempt themselves from the logic of the conflict. Conflict often seems overwhelming. It appears as though everyone is involved. This is never the case at the individual level where the vast majority (usually more than 99%) of people do not actively participate, but such a lack of involvement is generally passive, a sort of keeping the head down in the hopes that the conflict will pass by. There are, however, often communities that take a more active role in resisting the conflict, communities that do not join in ethnic cleansing, do not engage in sectarian violence, do not participate in genocide. Their stories are often missed or are perceived to be unique and so not pursued for potential lessons.

We are currently gathering case studies and this conference was focused on drawing out common themes. It was a beginning, so don't expect any lessons yet.

But one thing we think we do know: communities that succeed plan for the worst. The worst thing a community can do is to say, "It can't happen here". Instead, "It could happen here. Now - what do we do to make sure that it doesn't?"