Mini Me
Hello World,
Happy December! Of course, everyone realizes that it's only by virtue of a visit from our retired co-worker that I'm able to report with certainty that today is not only the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, but also the day the 13th Amendment was ratified in 1865 and the death of Captain Bligh in 1817. The month has dozens of other notable events, such as the abdication of Edward VIII in 1936, the Monroe Doctrine in 1823, the Boston Tea Party in 1773, the opening of the Lincoln Tunnel in 1937, the Pilgrims landing at Plymouth in 1620, the death of George Washington in 1799, the Battle of the Bulge in 1944, the sinking of the USS Monitor in 1862, and the opening of Radio City Music Hall in 1932. Yes, the locally famous Joseph J. Cusimano has come up with the poop, the whole poop, and nothing but the poop, for what everyone should know that happened in December, from St. Nicholas Day in 343AD, all the way up to the NYC subway strike in 2005, and everything in between. Please feel free to drop by my web log at http://graphicmagicmailbags.blogspot.com and check out all of the newsworthy dates at your leisure. In fact, leisurely would be better, since I haven't technically posted the list there yet.
Speaking of notable dates, for all of you non-math-challenged people out there, who wondered about how Bill and I met 25 years ago in November 1983, and well may you wonder, because that was supposed to say 1982 instead. I suspect that our crack proof-reading staff had gotten a little bit of a head-start on the holiday eggnog, and so was not up to our usual standards of pinpoint accuracy that we strive for around here. I'm sure the numerologists would have had a field day with that one, and it certainly would have blown our bio-rhythm charts all to blazes and back. Not to mention, thrown Comrade Sergei and his infernal date machine for a loop, da?
While I can't speak for everyone, I can say that many of us in the local area were surprised to see snow, not once but several times, over the past week or so. This has become uncommon enough in early December as to provoke comment, as well as making people scoff at the very idea. In fact, this is why it's so easy for me to assign blame for the snow, right where it belongs, on the pastor of my church. The week before at our annual budget meeting, we noted that our janitor had put in extra hours during the year, for special needs like shoveling snow or painting. As a cost-saving measure, the pastor said he would tell the janitor not to work any extra hours in December, and his exact words were, "After all, it's not going snow between now and the end of the year." Oh, thanks so very much not! I guess Comrade Mischka had some different ideas about that, nyet?
In addition to snow, we were not expecting frigid temperatures in the 20s and worse, this early in the season, and high winds that made the wind chill factor no laughing matter. And here, I can safely state that I for one am not to blame, since I put both bird bath heaters in a couple of weeks ago, when it was much warmer, and it's only a wonder that it didn't usher in a whole new era of record high temperatures all over the region. Usually both bird baths freeze solid before I ever get around to the heaters, and I have to break through the ice with a hammer (and one year, took the cement tail off one of the unfortunate bird decorations on the side of the fountain) so for me to be ahead of the weather for a change is extraordinary. Because it's been so cold, it's easy to tell that both heaters are working, and I can't remember the last time that happened, if ever. So I guess I should be glad that at least the pastor didn't say anything like, "After all, we're not going to lose our electricity between now and the end of the year," or I'd have frozen bird baths to thank him for besides.
Everyone knows that if it's December, it must be time to start getting ready for Lessons & Carols, and not a moment too soon. I was specifically invited to participate this year, unlike usually when I have to chase after them to let me in, although it didn't seem quite so wonderful when we were asked to be at church on Sunday morning at the ungodly hour of 8:45 for choir practice. Honestly, who could possibly sing at that time of day, I ask you. (As a matter of fact, I saw my reflection later after church, and realized that I had entirely forgotten to comb my hair before I left home, and no wonder.) Even worse, I was assigned to sing 2nd soprano, which I'm looking at as a vote of confidence to shore up that tremulous section, but if I've ever had any talent at singing harmony, I can assure you that it has never manifested itself up to now. And at that hour of the day, I can't guarantee that I can tell you my own name, much less harmonizing on anything, so this whole thing might very well be an idea whose time has not yet come, and in spades. I've heard that we're taking a break from torturing the memory of the dearly departed George Frideric Handel, but whoever we end up doing, I can't say that I care for their chances all that much, with me dragging the rest of the 2nd soprano section down with me. The one thing we can count on, while I may not sing the right notes, you can be sure I'll be singing them at full volume, so if we go down, we'll be going down loud. Hallelujah!
After church, even though it was Sunday, I went to work, and did absolutely no work whatsoever. What I did instead was set up the Christmas tree in the hallway, because I knew I would never have time to do it during the week, when I was already so behind. Because the building was so hot, and I was going to be climbing up and down on a little step-stool over and over, I took off my skirt, so it wouldn't be in my way and might also be just a little bit cooler. So there I was in my slip and hanging ornaments, when I looked up and saw the bookkeeper down the hall, and I don't know which of us was more surprised. She at least was wearing actual clothes, and while her good manners prevented her from saying anything about my slip, I'm sure she must have wondered. I said, "I hope you went to church already, before coming in to work on a Sunday to cook the books." She laughed.
Even though it seemed that Thanksgiving was impossibly early, and we had a whole extra week to get ready for it, I suppose it would come as a surprise to no one that not all of us were prepared for the first Sunday in Advent on December 2nd. It's true that our Advent wreath is always close at hand, because putting it away is just too much of a nuisance. but it didn't have any candles in it, and the Advent prep team had failed to select the candle-lighting hymns that needed to go along with it. You can believe that I am not just talking through my hat when I say that you can't get good help these days, and I ought to know. The candles did make it into the holders, at least tenuously, but the hymn selection process proved to be too much for the poor addled brain of the prep team, in spite of their good intentions. As a result, we have perhaps invented a whole new observance called Advent Monday, which had all the necessary elements and went off without a hitch, compared to the fiasco on Sunday. This may not gain wide popularity, but I can highly recommend it, and I don't mind saying, the Advent prep team around here thinks it's the best idea they've heard in a month of Sundays. (Get it?) In fact, my thesaurus describes perfection as "a whole team and the dog under the wagon," which I personally feel is an expression whose time has not come, and in fact, may never come.
Meanwhile at work, we recently needed to order some orthopedic supplies for a patient having surgery, and when I asked the Unit Clerk for the name of the patient, what she said was Mini Cooper. I told her I wasn't interested in the car the patient was driving, I needed to know the person's name, so she spelled it for me, and sure enough, it was Minnie Cooper. I thought that was so funny. Of course, it's only really funny now, when all of these adorable Mini Cooper cars are so popular, and you see them everywhere you go in every different color, including stripes and everything else. Probably way back in the day, when our little Minnie was casting about for a husband, and along comes Mr. Cooper to pop the question, I'm sure she didn't say, "Don't be silly! I can't marry you, why, in the next century they're going to have funny-looking cars named after me, and I'll be the laughing-stock of the neighborhood." At the time, she probably thought he was quite a catch, and a big improvement over her other suitors, like the Rev. DeMoocher or Dr. Mauss, especially in the laughing-stock department. And it's taken all this time for her name to catch up with her, so I guess ol' Coop wasn't such a bad choice after all. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it, or my name isn't -
Ford Escort
Happy December! Of course, everyone realizes that it's only by virtue of a visit from our retired co-worker that I'm able to report with certainty that today is not only the anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, but also the day the 13th Amendment was ratified in 1865 and the death of Captain Bligh in 1817. The month has dozens of other notable events, such as the abdication of Edward VIII in 1936, the Monroe Doctrine in 1823, the Boston Tea Party in 1773, the opening of the Lincoln Tunnel in 1937, the Pilgrims landing at Plymouth in 1620, the death of George Washington in 1799, the Battle of the Bulge in 1944, the sinking of the USS Monitor in 1862, and the opening of Radio City Music Hall in 1932. Yes, the locally famous Joseph J. Cusimano has come up with the poop, the whole poop, and nothing but the poop, for what everyone should know that happened in December, from St. Nicholas Day in 343AD, all the way up to the NYC subway strike in 2005, and everything in between. Please feel free to drop by my web log at http://graphicmagicmailbags.blogspot.com and check out all of the newsworthy dates at your leisure. In fact, leisurely would be better, since I haven't technically posted the list there yet.
Speaking of notable dates, for all of you non-math-challenged people out there, who wondered about how Bill and I met 25 years ago in November 1983, and well may you wonder, because that was supposed to say 1982 instead. I suspect that our crack proof-reading staff had gotten a little bit of a head-start on the holiday eggnog, and so was not up to our usual standards of pinpoint accuracy that we strive for around here. I'm sure the numerologists would have had a field day with that one, and it certainly would have blown our bio-rhythm charts all to blazes and back. Not to mention, thrown Comrade Sergei and his infernal date machine for a loop, da?
While I can't speak for everyone, I can say that many of us in the local area were surprised to see snow, not once but several times, over the past week or so. This has become uncommon enough in early December as to provoke comment, as well as making people scoff at the very idea. In fact, this is why it's so easy for me to assign blame for the snow, right where it belongs, on the pastor of my church. The week before at our annual budget meeting, we noted that our janitor had put in extra hours during the year, for special needs like shoveling snow or painting. As a cost-saving measure, the pastor said he would tell the janitor not to work any extra hours in December, and his exact words were, "After all, it's not going snow between now and the end of the year." Oh, thanks so very much not! I guess Comrade Mischka had some different ideas about that, nyet?
In addition to snow, we were not expecting frigid temperatures in the 20s and worse, this early in the season, and high winds that made the wind chill factor no laughing matter. And here, I can safely state that I for one am not to blame, since I put both bird bath heaters in a couple of weeks ago, when it was much warmer, and it's only a wonder that it didn't usher in a whole new era of record high temperatures all over the region. Usually both bird baths freeze solid before I ever get around to the heaters, and I have to break through the ice with a hammer (and one year, took the cement tail off one of the unfortunate bird decorations on the side of the fountain) so for me to be ahead of the weather for a change is extraordinary. Because it's been so cold, it's easy to tell that both heaters are working, and I can't remember the last time that happened, if ever. So I guess I should be glad that at least the pastor didn't say anything like, "After all, we're not going to lose our electricity between now and the end of the year," or I'd have frozen bird baths to thank him for besides.
Everyone knows that if it's December, it must be time to start getting ready for Lessons & Carols, and not a moment too soon. I was specifically invited to participate this year, unlike usually when I have to chase after them to let me in, although it didn't seem quite so wonderful when we were asked to be at church on Sunday morning at the ungodly hour of 8:45 for choir practice. Honestly, who could possibly sing at that time of day, I ask you. (As a matter of fact, I saw my reflection later after church, and realized that I had entirely forgotten to comb my hair before I left home, and no wonder.) Even worse, I was assigned to sing 2nd soprano, which I'm looking at as a vote of confidence to shore up that tremulous section, but if I've ever had any talent at singing harmony, I can assure you that it has never manifested itself up to now. And at that hour of the day, I can't guarantee that I can tell you my own name, much less harmonizing on anything, so this whole thing might very well be an idea whose time has not yet come, and in spades. I've heard that we're taking a break from torturing the memory of the dearly departed George Frideric Handel, but whoever we end up doing, I can't say that I care for their chances all that much, with me dragging the rest of the 2nd soprano section down with me. The one thing we can count on, while I may not sing the right notes, you can be sure I'll be singing them at full volume, so if we go down, we'll be going down loud. Hallelujah!
After church, even though it was Sunday, I went to work, and did absolutely no work whatsoever. What I did instead was set up the Christmas tree in the hallway, because I knew I would never have time to do it during the week, when I was already so behind. Because the building was so hot, and I was going to be climbing up and down on a little step-stool over and over, I took off my skirt, so it wouldn't be in my way and might also be just a little bit cooler. So there I was in my slip and hanging ornaments, when I looked up and saw the bookkeeper down the hall, and I don't know which of us was more surprised. She at least was wearing actual clothes, and while her good manners prevented her from saying anything about my slip, I'm sure she must have wondered. I said, "I hope you went to church already, before coming in to work on a Sunday to cook the books." She laughed.
Even though it seemed that Thanksgiving was impossibly early, and we had a whole extra week to get ready for it, I suppose it would come as a surprise to no one that not all of us were prepared for the first Sunday in Advent on December 2nd. It's true that our Advent wreath is always close at hand, because putting it away is just too much of a nuisance. but it didn't have any candles in it, and the Advent prep team had failed to select the candle-lighting hymns that needed to go along with it. You can believe that I am not just talking through my hat when I say that you can't get good help these days, and I ought to know. The candles did make it into the holders, at least tenuously, but the hymn selection process proved to be too much for the poor addled brain of the prep team, in spite of their good intentions. As a result, we have perhaps invented a whole new observance called Advent Monday, which had all the necessary elements and went off without a hitch, compared to the fiasco on Sunday. This may not gain wide popularity, but I can highly recommend it, and I don't mind saying, the Advent prep team around here thinks it's the best idea they've heard in a month of Sundays. (Get it?) In fact, my thesaurus describes perfection as "a whole team and the dog under the wagon," which I personally feel is an expression whose time has not come, and in fact, may never come.
Meanwhile at work, we recently needed to order some orthopedic supplies for a patient having surgery, and when I asked the Unit Clerk for the name of the patient, what she said was Mini Cooper. I told her I wasn't interested in the car the patient was driving, I needed to know the person's name, so she spelled it for me, and sure enough, it was Minnie Cooper. I thought that was so funny. Of course, it's only really funny now, when all of these adorable Mini Cooper cars are so popular, and you see them everywhere you go in every different color, including stripes and everything else. Probably way back in the day, when our little Minnie was casting about for a husband, and along comes Mr. Cooper to pop the question, I'm sure she didn't say, "Don't be silly! I can't marry you, why, in the next century they're going to have funny-looking cars named after me, and I'll be the laughing-stock of the neighborhood." At the time, she probably thought he was quite a catch, and a big improvement over her other suitors, like the Rev. DeMoocher or Dr. Mauss, especially in the laughing-stock department. And it's taken all this time for her name to catch up with her, so I guess ol' Coop wasn't such a bad choice after all. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it, or my name isn't -
Ford Escort
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:18 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home