Give A Hoot
Hello World,
And so here I am back again, and making a pest of myself. No, wait a minute, that's not me, that's what I say to the cats. Oh well, somebody around here is making a pest of themselves, and although I don't like to cast aspersions, I think it's only fair to say that I can't rule out anyone either, so don't say I didn't warn you. In fact, it might very well be you, so don't think that I don't have my eye on you as well, and don't try any funny stuff. I may not know much, but I certainly know a pest when I see one, and you'd be surprised how often one is as close as your own mirror. Unless you have cats, that is.
Meanwhile, in local sports news, I'm happy to report that there finally is some joy in Mudville, because the Mets eventually did win enough games, and the Phillies lost enough games, for them to clinch the National League East championship at long last. Although it appeared to be a foregone conclusion for months, when it came to the actual sticking point, it seemed that everything conspired against it actually happening. But they pulled it off in their own ballpark and made the home town fans happy by winning their division for the first time since 1990. A few days later across town, the Yankees also clinched their division, although not in the most optimum way, because they lost, and only clinched because the Red Sox also lost and were mathematically eliminated. Of course, winning the division is old hat to the Yankees, as this is their ninth in a row, so I'm sure it doesn't carry that same sense of euphoria as it does with their Queens rivals. This is just another day at the office for the Yankees, which is why they wear pinstripes.
Speaking of offices, at least every other week we get a visit at work from our retired co-worker, who drops in to see us on her way to her physical therapy appointment, and brings us something from her neighborhood bakery to have while she sits and chats. I said to Bill that I find it remarkable that she comes so regularly, and early, in all sorts of weather conditions, which is something that she could never seem to manage when she had a full-time job there. But retirement seems to agree with her, and I admit that I have a much more charitable attitude about her now than I ever had while she was still working there, or perhaps that was just my Evil Twin speaking. But I notice that when people come to Purchasing from other departments and see her there, they greet her like a long-lost relative, and fall all over her with hugs and kisses as if they've been inconsolable since she left. Honestly, the way they carry on, you'd think she was Ed McMahon showing up with that big cardboard check for them, instead of just an old retired Clerk that no one paid any attention to when she worked there. How she suddenly became America's Sweetheart after she retired is a complete mystery to me.
Also at work, rather than tearing down the ancient pile of bricks that I work in, as they've been threatening to do for years, they decided to paint it instead, although I admit the logic of that continues to elude me. So every time you want to go anywhere, you have to walk around the painter up on his ladder, patching and spackling, in the hallways and stairwells and every imaginable place. At one point, our Payroll manager (we all remember the ersatz Tom Sangeverionio from the story about Federal Express invoices) told him that he was doing a great job, just like Michelangelo. The painter thanked him but said with some modesty that he wasn't just like Michelangelo, since of course, he's not Italian. This apparently took Tom by surprise, especially since the painter's name is Mario, so he asked him to name a famous painter from his own country that he could be compared to. Alas, the painter sighed, "I'm from Croatia, and there are no famous Croatian painters." He said this so matter-of-factly that I couldn't help but laugh. It was refreshingly honest, if a bit wistful, and not to mention a surprising bit of historical trivia for all of us geography fans out there.
Of course we all remember the fun house mirror at our end of the hallway that makes everyone look short and fat, no matter how exquisite they might look in real life. The worst part of it is that you can see it from all the way the blazes down the other end of the hallway on the other side of the building, and as you walk towards it, you can watch yourself getting smaller and wider and more mis-shapen, and it's only a wonder that people don't just jump out a window by the time they get to it. Everyone hates it, even people with nothing to fear from mirrors, and the most popular thing we do every year in Purchasing is cover the mirror with a holiday door decoration for Christmas. Since Mario has been patching and spackling in the hallway, he has been fielding a steady stream of requests for him to paint over the mirror once and for all, and spare all of us from this workaday horror show in our midst. It might not make him famous, but he'd certainly be the most popular Croatian painter of all time!
Last weekend, we had a family reunion of sorts, involving a small bunch of relatives who shared a common grandmother (my great-grandmother) and right from the very beginning of the planning stages got saddled with the handle of The Cousins Hootenanny for some reason, and the name simply stuck through it all. The guest list included my Mom and all of us girls, her brother, and a cousin-in-law from Massachusetts plus two of her daughters, who are the same ages as my sisters. We had been to visit them in 2000, when we discovered that it's just about impossible to reserve a hotel room, anywhere in the Berkshires where they live, during foliage season. This time around, we met at my sister's log cabin in New Paltz instead, which was more centrally located and made an easier trip for my Mom coming up from Long Island. Rather than driving by myself, I bummed a ride with my other sister, and four of us crammed into a rental car with all of our belongings, which may have been an idea whose time had not yet come. But we set out on Friday night in good spirits in spite of a light drizzle, and reached our destination with only minor mishaps along the way. We stayed overnight at a very pleasant Day's Inn at Newburgh, and in the morning, the view of the lake with the mists rising above the hills along the Hudson River was simply breathtaking. The rooms were spacious and well-appointed, especially as inexpensive as it was, and included breakfast which was a welcome convenience for weary travelers. Of course, it was nothing like the spread we enjoyed at the Renaissance Hotel, but we still dove right into it and glad of it. Thus fortified, we hit the road for the last leg of our journey, and joined up with everyone else already there. Mom was the belle of the ball, as everyone was delighted to see her, and since it was a mere matter of days to her 84th birthday, she even got presents, which is always one of her favorite things. In fact, there were plenty of presents to go around, since Bill was so grateful to my traveling companions for taking me off his hands for a couple of days, that he got them all presents as well. The weather on Saturday could not have been more glorious, and the food was delectable, and I can safely say that a fine time was had by all, and don't think that I don't have the pictures to prove it. We left around 8:30 and made it back without a hitch, although they were so anxious to get home that by the time we got to my house, they threatened that they would make me jump out while they were still moving, because they didn't want to stop. By all accounts, the Cousins Hootenanny was a rousing success, and might turn into a regular happening, or at least more regular than every six years.
I see in the recent USA Weekend magazine that there is a new DVD boxed set including the 1954 original Japanese monster movie called "Gojira" as well as the re-edited American version starring Raymond Burr and known to legions of fans as "Godzilla." For the entertainment of their readers, the magazine printed a review of the movie by someone they describe as "Bill Holmstrom, the collection manager of the Department of Herpetology at the Wildlife Conservation Society's Bronx Zoo and a lifetime monster movie fan." In describing the scene where Godzilla unleashes his powerfully destructive atomic breath, Holmstrom says, "The popular misconception is that Godzilla breathes fire. Actually, he breathes a stream of compressed radioactive air that bursts into flame on impact. There are no animals that actually do that." What a relief! I guess we can lay those rumors to rest right now, and I'm certainly glad that USA Weekend went to all the trouble to call in an expert to stem the tide of these popular misconceptions run amok. I tell you, you just can't make this stuff up, and thanks to Japanese horror movies, you don't have to. Just don't tell Bill Holmstrom, whatever you do.
And so here I am back again, and making a pest of myself. No, wait a minute, that's not me, that's what I say to the cats. Oh well, somebody around here is making a pest of themselves, and although I don't like to cast aspersions, I think it's only fair to say that I can't rule out anyone either, so don't say I didn't warn you. In fact, it might very well be you, so don't think that I don't have my eye on you as well, and don't try any funny stuff. I may not know much, but I certainly know a pest when I see one, and you'd be surprised how often one is as close as your own mirror. Unless you have cats, that is.
Meanwhile, in local sports news, I'm happy to report that there finally is some joy in Mudville, because the Mets eventually did win enough games, and the Phillies lost enough games, for them to clinch the National League East championship at long last. Although it appeared to be a foregone conclusion for months, when it came to the actual sticking point, it seemed that everything conspired against it actually happening. But they pulled it off in their own ballpark and made the home town fans happy by winning their division for the first time since 1990. A few days later across town, the Yankees also clinched their division, although not in the most optimum way, because they lost, and only clinched because the Red Sox also lost and were mathematically eliminated. Of course, winning the division is old hat to the Yankees, as this is their ninth in a row, so I'm sure it doesn't carry that same sense of euphoria as it does with their Queens rivals. This is just another day at the office for the Yankees, which is why they wear pinstripes.
Speaking of offices, at least every other week we get a visit at work from our retired co-worker, who drops in to see us on her way to her physical therapy appointment, and brings us something from her neighborhood bakery to have while she sits and chats. I said to Bill that I find it remarkable that she comes so regularly, and early, in all sorts of weather conditions, which is something that she could never seem to manage when she had a full-time job there. But retirement seems to agree with her, and I admit that I have a much more charitable attitude about her now than I ever had while she was still working there, or perhaps that was just my Evil Twin speaking. But I notice that when people come to Purchasing from other departments and see her there, they greet her like a long-lost relative, and fall all over her with hugs and kisses as if they've been inconsolable since she left. Honestly, the way they carry on, you'd think she was Ed McMahon showing up with that big cardboard check for them, instead of just an old retired Clerk that no one paid any attention to when she worked there. How she suddenly became America's Sweetheart after she retired is a complete mystery to me.
Also at work, rather than tearing down the ancient pile of bricks that I work in, as they've been threatening to do for years, they decided to paint it instead, although I admit the logic of that continues to elude me. So every time you want to go anywhere, you have to walk around the painter up on his ladder, patching and spackling, in the hallways and stairwells and every imaginable place. At one point, our Payroll manager (we all remember the ersatz Tom Sangeverionio from the story about Federal Express invoices) told him that he was doing a great job, just like Michelangelo. The painter thanked him but said with some modesty that he wasn't just like Michelangelo, since of course, he's not Italian. This apparently took Tom by surprise, especially since the painter's name is Mario, so he asked him to name a famous painter from his own country that he could be compared to. Alas, the painter sighed, "I'm from Croatia, and there are no famous Croatian painters." He said this so matter-of-factly that I couldn't help but laugh. It was refreshingly honest, if a bit wistful, and not to mention a surprising bit of historical trivia for all of us geography fans out there.
Of course we all remember the fun house mirror at our end of the hallway that makes everyone look short and fat, no matter how exquisite they might look in real life. The worst part of it is that you can see it from all the way the blazes down the other end of the hallway on the other side of the building, and as you walk towards it, you can watch yourself getting smaller and wider and more mis-shapen, and it's only a wonder that people don't just jump out a window by the time they get to it. Everyone hates it, even people with nothing to fear from mirrors, and the most popular thing we do every year in Purchasing is cover the mirror with a holiday door decoration for Christmas. Since Mario has been patching and spackling in the hallway, he has been fielding a steady stream of requests for him to paint over the mirror once and for all, and spare all of us from this workaday horror show in our midst. It might not make him famous, but he'd certainly be the most popular Croatian painter of all time!
Last weekend, we had a family reunion of sorts, involving a small bunch of relatives who shared a common grandmother (my great-grandmother) and right from the very beginning of the planning stages got saddled with the handle of The Cousins Hootenanny for some reason, and the name simply stuck through it all. The guest list included my Mom and all of us girls, her brother, and a cousin-in-law from Massachusetts plus two of her daughters, who are the same ages as my sisters. We had been to visit them in 2000, when we discovered that it's just about impossible to reserve a hotel room, anywhere in the Berkshires where they live, during foliage season. This time around, we met at my sister's log cabin in New Paltz instead, which was more centrally located and made an easier trip for my Mom coming up from Long Island. Rather than driving by myself, I bummed a ride with my other sister, and four of us crammed into a rental car with all of our belongings, which may have been an idea whose time had not yet come. But we set out on Friday night in good spirits in spite of a light drizzle, and reached our destination with only minor mishaps along the way. We stayed overnight at a very pleasant Day's Inn at Newburgh, and in the morning, the view of the lake with the mists rising above the hills along the Hudson River was simply breathtaking. The rooms were spacious and well-appointed, especially as inexpensive as it was, and included breakfast which was a welcome convenience for weary travelers. Of course, it was nothing like the spread we enjoyed at the Renaissance Hotel, but we still dove right into it and glad of it. Thus fortified, we hit the road for the last leg of our journey, and joined up with everyone else already there. Mom was the belle of the ball, as everyone was delighted to see her, and since it was a mere matter of days to her 84th birthday, she even got presents, which is always one of her favorite things. In fact, there were plenty of presents to go around, since Bill was so grateful to my traveling companions for taking me off his hands for a couple of days, that he got them all presents as well. The weather on Saturday could not have been more glorious, and the food was delectable, and I can safely say that a fine time was had by all, and don't think that I don't have the pictures to prove it. We left around 8:30 and made it back without a hitch, although they were so anxious to get home that by the time we got to my house, they threatened that they would make me jump out while they were still moving, because they didn't want to stop. By all accounts, the Cousins Hootenanny was a rousing success, and might turn into a regular happening, or at least more regular than every six years.
I see in the recent USA Weekend magazine that there is a new DVD boxed set including the 1954 original Japanese monster movie called "Gojira" as well as the re-edited American version starring Raymond Burr and known to legions of fans as "Godzilla." For the entertainment of their readers, the magazine printed a review of the movie by someone they describe as "Bill Holmstrom, the collection manager of the Department of Herpetology at the Wildlife Conservation Society's Bronx Zoo and a lifetime monster movie fan." In describing the scene where Godzilla unleashes his powerfully destructive atomic breath, Holmstrom says, "The popular misconception is that Godzilla breathes fire. Actually, he breathes a stream of compressed radioactive air that bursts into flame on impact. There are no animals that actually do that." What a relief! I guess we can lay those rumors to rest right now, and I'm certainly glad that USA Weekend went to all the trouble to call in an expert to stem the tide of these popular misconceptions run amok. I tell you, you just can't make this stuff up, and thanks to Japanese horror movies, you don't have to. Just don't tell Bill Holmstrom, whatever you do.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:50 PM
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