Don't Be Alarmed
Hello World,
Everyone knows that I hate to be an alarmist, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn't point out that tomorrow is actually the last Saturday in September, believe that or don't. The following Saturday will be the first of October, or as the retailers like to put it, only 85 more shopping days until Christmas. (There I go, being an alarmist again!) In fact, yesterday was the first day of fall, although people in the local area might be forgiven for a lack of enthusiasm for this seasonal milestone, as it was about 85 degrees and 90 percent humidity at the time. It was so hot during the week that one day I was standing in the kitchen and out of a clear blue sky, there was a resounding peal of thunder that rattled the dishes and set off car alarms down the block. One of our semi-invisible cats, Zanzibar, was lounging in the kitchen window at the time, and he gave me such a look before he bolted into the other room without even touching the floor. I called after him and said that my powers to create thunder had never manifested themselves up to this point, so I didn't think he could blame me for this particularly rambunctious outburst.
Speaking of weather, our newspaper ran a story that said the weather had been so dry over the summer around here that it was a positive boon to spiders, which were appearing everywhere in record numbers. They didn't explain why dry weather would be more beneficial to spiders than otherwise, so we're left with wondering if perhaps moist conditions make their little allergies act up, or even worse, their arthritis. Anyway, I figure it must be true, because I've noticed that we certainly have a bumper crop of very large spiders around the old homestead, more than the handful that we usually find hanging around in various places. In fact, the one we have on the side of our front porch is so big that if we could just get a mower attachment for it, we'd have a handy ride-on tractor to cut the grass with.
An article about cat shows in USA Magazine by Steve Dale began with this arresting paragraph:
=====================
There's little doubt the most beautiful
cats in the world are your own. Just ask
them -- they'll agree. So, it's the next most
beautiful cats who will be named the Best in
Show at the third annual CFA-Iams Cat
Championship in New York . . . . .
=====================
I was reminded of that earlier in the week, when I was accosted by a co-worker in the lobby who wanted to show me pictures of her three cats, Angel, Max and Sam. You know it must be real love, because people invariably show you the most off-kilter, blurry snapshots of their precious pooches and perfect pussies, and you know you can't say, "What a horrible, mangy-looking creature that is!" even if that's what you're thinking. So I looked at her fuzzy and off-center photos and said what pretty cats they were (NOT!) and then asked, "Angel is a girl?" more to be polite rather than any curiosity on my part. "Oh, they're all girls," she answered promptly. Here's where that same rule that you can't say their pets are ugly, also says you can't tell them their pet names are stupid, so of course, I didn't. After all, we've had boy cats named Mimi and Tootsie, and girl cats named Tigger and Beaudelaire, so I guess it's every Max for himself, or herself as the case may be, and Devil take the hind-most.
While we're on the subject of cat names, we recently carted off one of the strays in our yard to the animal hospital for about $400 worth of health care services, and I can tell you that he didn't think much of the idea, no how. We had been calling him Jingle Belle, because he only had half a tail ("bells on bob-tails ring, making spirits bright ... ") and because he was wearing gray stripes like the army in the ante-bellum South. We've never had much luck with the clinic staff getting our cats' names right in the computer, and we routinely come home with paperwork for cats they call things like Fittlesticks, Muffing, Smudg, Littel Spot, Sparklar, Gingers Nap and Butterscoth, instead of their real names. I'd hate to tell you what they did to poor Caerlaverock Rose, but it wasn't pretty. Even when they spell the cat's name right, like Taffeta, they pronounce it wrong, as ta-FETT-a, as if people haven't been making clothes out of taffeta for hundreds of years already. So I never bothered to explain to them about this new arrival, that his name was two separate words, and not spelled the same as a regular bell. You can imagine my surprise when I picked him up later and found his paperwork made out as Jingle Belle, which they somehow came up with entirely on their own.
Alert readers may be wondering what's new in the wonderful world of education, and I am happy to give you an update. I received a notice from the SEED Learning Center (feel free to visit their web site at www.seedlearningcenter.com) announcing the schedule of classes at their new office in Hartsdale. I admit that I was a bit taken aback to discover that they offer 3-hour classes every day in Math and English for 1st and 2nd graders. Of course, I hate to be an alarmist, but here I'm thinking, what the heck kind of math do you need to know in 1st grade, of all things??? Can your first grader really fall so far behind in math in regular classes, that you would find it necessary to send them off to a supplemental learning center for tutoring? I realize that a lot has changed in education since the dinosaurs and I were learning our ABC's, but I think this is going just a little bit too far.
Meanwhile at work, I discovered someone who not only did not go too far, but in fact, stopped way ahead of time, and that's putting it mildly. I had occasion to call our friends at Cardinal Health Care to leave a message for one of the sales reps. In fact, you can try this yourself at home and call Cardinal at (800) 929-4637, where the nice recorded lady thanks you for calling them and lets you know that you can also visit their web site (and this is where Dave Barry always says, " ... and I'm not making this up!") which she actually tells you, very clearly, is "www dot com." I don't think so!
Earlier in the month, my cousin's daughter Rebecca was called to the Torah in a ceremony that the rest of the world commonly refers to as a bat mitzvah, so that meant that everyone else in the family had to pile in their cars early in the morning, in order to arrive at the sleepy town of Walden at the unholy hour of 9:00 AM of all things. Becky looked lovely, the ceremony was wonderful, and everything went off without a hitch. Even my Mom, who will be 83 tomorrow, made the long trek to join in the happy occasion, and by all accounts, the event was a rousing success. Becky plans to be a lawyer, which would certainly be a first in the family, and would no doubt come in very handy for those of us intending to embark on a life of crime.
I'm sure that everyone realizes that if Labor Day has come and gone, we must have already moved into that season of the year when those of us who have plans for Halloween have been stymied in our efforts to obtain the necessary costume parts. It's really true that you can buy any costume you want, and all the costume web sites will tell you that they have every costume in the world. But getting the accessories you need to complete the effect, ah ... there's the rub. Over the years, I have compiled an extremely lengthy list of costume parts that turned my costume shopping into a weary long-distance quest worthy of the Holy Grail. It appears this year will be no different, which I suppose is reassuring in its own perverse way. In fact, at this point, if I could get my costume and all the accessories all in one shot, I'd find it extremely alarming, and we all know that if nothing else, I'm not an alarmist.
Everyone knows that I hate to be an alarmist, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn't point out that tomorrow is actually the last Saturday in September, believe that or don't. The following Saturday will be the first of October, or as the retailers like to put it, only 85 more shopping days until Christmas. (There I go, being an alarmist again!) In fact, yesterday was the first day of fall, although people in the local area might be forgiven for a lack of enthusiasm for this seasonal milestone, as it was about 85 degrees and 90 percent humidity at the time. It was so hot during the week that one day I was standing in the kitchen and out of a clear blue sky, there was a resounding peal of thunder that rattled the dishes and set off car alarms down the block. One of our semi-invisible cats, Zanzibar, was lounging in the kitchen window at the time, and he gave me such a look before he bolted into the other room without even touching the floor. I called after him and said that my powers to create thunder had never manifested themselves up to this point, so I didn't think he could blame me for this particularly rambunctious outburst.
Speaking of weather, our newspaper ran a story that said the weather had been so dry over the summer around here that it was a positive boon to spiders, which were appearing everywhere in record numbers. They didn't explain why dry weather would be more beneficial to spiders than otherwise, so we're left with wondering if perhaps moist conditions make their little allergies act up, or even worse, their arthritis. Anyway, I figure it must be true, because I've noticed that we certainly have a bumper crop of very large spiders around the old homestead, more than the handful that we usually find hanging around in various places. In fact, the one we have on the side of our front porch is so big that if we could just get a mower attachment for it, we'd have a handy ride-on tractor to cut the grass with.
An article about cat shows in USA Magazine by Steve Dale began with this arresting paragraph:
=====================
There's little doubt the most beautiful
cats in the world are your own. Just ask
them -- they'll agree. So, it's the next most
beautiful cats who will be named the Best in
Show at the third annual CFA-Iams Cat
Championship in New York . . . . .
=====================
I was reminded of that earlier in the week, when I was accosted by a co-worker in the lobby who wanted to show me pictures of her three cats, Angel, Max and Sam. You know it must be real love, because people invariably show you the most off-kilter, blurry snapshots of their precious pooches and perfect pussies, and you know you can't say, "What a horrible, mangy-looking creature that is!" even if that's what you're thinking. So I looked at her fuzzy and off-center photos and said what pretty cats they were (NOT!) and then asked, "Angel is a girl?" more to be polite rather than any curiosity on my part. "Oh, they're all girls," she answered promptly. Here's where that same rule that you can't say their pets are ugly, also says you can't tell them their pet names are stupid, so of course, I didn't. After all, we've had boy cats named Mimi and Tootsie, and girl cats named Tigger and Beaudelaire, so I guess it's every Max for himself, or herself as the case may be, and Devil take the hind-most.
While we're on the subject of cat names, we recently carted off one of the strays in our yard to the animal hospital for about $400 worth of health care services, and I can tell you that he didn't think much of the idea, no how. We had been calling him Jingle Belle, because he only had half a tail ("bells on bob-tails ring, making spirits bright ... ") and because he was wearing gray stripes like the army in the ante-bellum South. We've never had much luck with the clinic staff getting our cats' names right in the computer, and we routinely come home with paperwork for cats they call things like Fittlesticks, Muffing, Smudg, Littel Spot, Sparklar, Gingers Nap and Butterscoth, instead of their real names. I'd hate to tell you what they did to poor Caerlaverock Rose, but it wasn't pretty. Even when they spell the cat's name right, like Taffeta, they pronounce it wrong, as ta-FETT-a, as if people haven't been making clothes out of taffeta for hundreds of years already. So I never bothered to explain to them about this new arrival, that his name was two separate words, and not spelled the same as a regular bell. You can imagine my surprise when I picked him up later and found his paperwork made out as Jingle Belle, which they somehow came up with entirely on their own.
Alert readers may be wondering what's new in the wonderful world of education, and I am happy to give you an update. I received a notice from the SEED Learning Center (feel free to visit their web site at www.seedlearningcenter.com) announcing the schedule of classes at their new office in Hartsdale. I admit that I was a bit taken aback to discover that they offer 3-hour classes every day in Math and English for 1st and 2nd graders. Of course, I hate to be an alarmist, but here I'm thinking, what the heck kind of math do you need to know in 1st grade, of all things??? Can your first grader really fall so far behind in math in regular classes, that you would find it necessary to send them off to a supplemental learning center for tutoring? I realize that a lot has changed in education since the dinosaurs and I were learning our ABC's, but I think this is going just a little bit too far.
Meanwhile at work, I discovered someone who not only did not go too far, but in fact, stopped way ahead of time, and that's putting it mildly. I had occasion to call our friends at Cardinal Health Care to leave a message for one of the sales reps. In fact, you can try this yourself at home and call Cardinal at (800) 929-4637, where the nice recorded lady thanks you for calling them and lets you know that you can also visit their web site (and this is where Dave Barry always says, " ... and I'm not making this up!") which she actually tells you, very clearly, is "www dot com." I don't think so!
Earlier in the month, my cousin's daughter Rebecca was called to the Torah in a ceremony that the rest of the world commonly refers to as a bat mitzvah, so that meant that everyone else in the family had to pile in their cars early in the morning, in order to arrive at the sleepy town of Walden at the unholy hour of 9:00 AM of all things. Becky looked lovely, the ceremony was wonderful, and everything went off without a hitch. Even my Mom, who will be 83 tomorrow, made the long trek to join in the happy occasion, and by all accounts, the event was a rousing success. Becky plans to be a lawyer, which would certainly be a first in the family, and would no doubt come in very handy for those of us intending to embark on a life of crime.
I'm sure that everyone realizes that if Labor Day has come and gone, we must have already moved into that season of the year when those of us who have plans for Halloween have been stymied in our efforts to obtain the necessary costume parts. It's really true that you can buy any costume you want, and all the costume web sites will tell you that they have every costume in the world. But getting the accessories you need to complete the effect, ah ... there's the rub. Over the years, I have compiled an extremely lengthy list of costume parts that turned my costume shopping into a weary long-distance quest worthy of the Holy Grail. It appears this year will be no different, which I suppose is reassuring in its own perverse way. In fact, at this point, if I could get my costume and all the accessories all in one shot, I'd find it extremely alarming, and we all know that if nothing else, I'm not an alarmist.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:29 PM
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