Hop To It
Hello World,
Happy Easter! Although I suppose, in deference to the Easter Bunny of lore and legend, I should say instead "hoppy" Easter, in recognition of our fuzzy long-eared benefactor. For people observing this occasion, I hope (or perhaps it would be better to say, I "hop") that your holiday is like a beautiful Easter basket, filled to the brim with chocolate bunnies, malted milk eggs, jelly beans and marshmallow peeps of all descriptions. There's no wrong way to celebrate Easter, whether you go to church, visit relatives, or try your luck at the casino, whatever it takes to help you appreciate the spirit of rebirth, renewal and redemption. Personally, I just need some Cadbury Creme Eggs and I'm good.
This week started off in fine style with Palm Sunday, which as everyone knows, is the favorite Sunday of the church year for cats the world over. How they love those fresh palms! This year's crop did not disappoint, and we had cats fighting over new palms upstairs and downstairs. At church, I was surprised to see a Palm Sunday pageant put on by the youth, since that has not been a tradition in my experience there, and everyone looked suitably Biblical in their robes and turbans. The congregation played the part of the bystanders, waving their palms at the procession, while the youth as the disciples, led Jesus into Jerusalem on a donkey. In what I thought was a brilliant bit of casting, the part of the donkey was played by an audio-visual cart that had been covered with blankets and fitted with a cardboard donkey head, so the disciples had no trouble pulling Jesus along the center aisle up to the chancel, just as smooth as you please. I don't mind saying this is in stark contrast to actual real donkeys, or even people dressed as donkeys, so I'm thinking that Jesus was probably pretty happy with his means of conveyance, at least compared to the alternatives. The timeless story of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem was told with reverence and enthusiasm, and all of the youngsters did a wonderful job from start to finish. Unfortunately, in all the excitement, the donkey lost his head before the end of the program, but still and all, it was inspiring and entertaining, and as welcome as it was unexpected.
Earlier in the week, of course, Monday was St. Patrick's Day, and somehow the venerable parade in New York City managed to take place as it traditionally does, but without all of the antagonism and legal wrangling that it usually has, so I would have to consider that a break with tradition right there. Perhaps having the parade during Holy Week was not such a bad idea after all. Actually, I never recall hearing one single solitary word about the entire parade, for weeks beforehand or after, unlike what usually happens, where the media circus surrounding all of the controversy starts months ahead of time. Seriously, with first Waitangi Day passing by without a murmur, and now St. Patrick's Day also quiet as a church mouse, it's enough to make you wonder if society has truly progressed to the point where holidays and armed conflict do not necessarily have to go hand-in-hand. I'm kidding, of course, or should I say, alas. In fact, the only story that kicked up a rumpus before the fabled parade was about an Irish bar that was going to prohibit its patrons from singing "Danny Boy" on St. Patrick's Day, which the management felt had been over-done to an extreme degree, although any other Irish songs would be acceptable. Unless you're an Irish tenor with a repertoire of unfamiliar tunes from the Emerald Isle, Bill and I realized that we had trouble coming up with anything after When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra, Molly Malone, Christmas in Killarney, MacNamara's Band, Harrigan, I'm Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover, Mother McGree and I'll Be Coming Home Again to You, Kathleen. So without old Danny Boy and the pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen, in sunshine and in clover, I'm thinking it would be pretty quiet in that bar after they ran through the rest of their Irish songs. I suppose they might have filled in with songs from Waitangi Day, but let's face it, that just wouldn't be the same thing at all.
I wore green to work on Monday, as I generally do in honor of the saint's day, because I'm on board with the idea that everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day, no matter who you are or where you come from. At our hospital, most people you see are wearing green anyway year-round, because our scrubs are Kelly green, and you'll find everyone from doctors and nurses, to radiologists, physical therapists, phlebotomists, pharmacists and anesthesiologists all walking around in bright green scrubs. One of my favorite things to do on the holiday is to stop someone in the hallway, like a Laboratory technician who is very obviously Asian with an unpronounceable name and the map of China all over their face, point at their scrubs and exclaim, "I never knew you were Irish!" Some of them laugh, and some just stare, as if they weren't expecting to encounter a three-headed polka-dot space alien on their rounds. My favorites are the ones who feel their national dignity has been impugned, and insist on correcting me, in the dense and incomprehensible accents of their home country, that they are certainly NOT Irish, as if they were likely to be mistaken for a freckle-faced child of the Old Sod. Yemen, go bragh!
It transpired that the next day, I wore a different outfit that also happened to be green, and you'd be surprised to find out, as I was, that it excites a lot of comment when you do that. Everywhere I went all day long, people stopped me in the hallways and said things like, "You should have worn that yesterday," or "you missed St. Patrick's Day," or "you're a day late," and on and on like that all the live-long day, with a banjo on my knee. It would have never occurred to me before what a conversation starter that is, and I can highly recommend it, at least for the purpose of getting the attention of strangers wherever you may go on March 18th. I'm thinking of starting my own holiday then, and calling it Easy to be Green Day, because at least it would already have built-in music (Green Day, get it?) and I already know that people seem incapable of passing up an opportunity to say something to you when you wear green on the day after St. Patrick's Day. I call that "The Shamrock Effect," which proves, I suppose, that timing is everything.
Speaking of days and times, here's a recent news story that seems to fly in the face of the way things are going nowadays:
=============================
Monday March 17, 2008 Study Says Daylight Saving Time May Waste Energy, Increase Pollution Categories: News and Events, Pollution, Science Tags: daylight saving time Earlier this month we all had to do what I cynically refer to as the obligatory clock walk. That's when all the clocks and watches around the house had to be sprung one hour forward for the daylight saving time (DST).
Yet, scrambling to advance time and catch more sunlight - a practice that was originally established to reduce the country's electricity usage - may actually cost us 1.21 gigawatts of power. The figure came by way of a UC Santa Barbara study of the state of Indiana, where DST has only been observed for the past few years.
According to Gizmodo, the study concluded that an added hour may have reduced the need for extra lighting. However, air-conditioning in the summer and heating in the fall were used more than they would with less daylight. This cost Indiana residents roughly $8.6 million more in energy bills annually with the additional $5.3 million per year in "increased pollution costs". Go figure!
=============================
Well, I can't think that the DST camp can be too pleased with those statistics, although I've long since given up on the idea that they care what anyone else thinks of their dastardly schemes at this point. Bill and I went out after dinner tonight, and at 6:00 PM, it was still broad daylight with the sun up, so that you would think it was later in the spring, and you could enjoy being outside in the nice weather. Oh, except for the fact that it's still the middle of March, thank you very much not, and it's all of 40 degrees outdoors, so even with the sun up, it feels more like springtime in Nome than time to break out the beach towels and flip-flops. The Daylight Scamming Tricksters can make it as light as they want, but it's still cold around here in March, and having sunlight after dinner when it's cold is just incongruous in these parts, no matter how they try to convince us otherwise. So until they come up with that Temperature Shifting Device that works in conjunction with Daylight Stupid Tampering, it's going to be nothing but a "time is out of joint" anomaly that will continue to be unjustifiable. Sort of like wearing green on the day after St. Patrick's Day, and I ought to know.
Happy Easter! Although I suppose, in deference to the Easter Bunny of lore and legend, I should say instead "hoppy" Easter, in recognition of our fuzzy long-eared benefactor. For people observing this occasion, I hope (or perhaps it would be better to say, I "hop") that your holiday is like a beautiful Easter basket, filled to the brim with chocolate bunnies, malted milk eggs, jelly beans and marshmallow peeps of all descriptions. There's no wrong way to celebrate Easter, whether you go to church, visit relatives, or try your luck at the casino, whatever it takes to help you appreciate the spirit of rebirth, renewal and redemption. Personally, I just need some Cadbury Creme Eggs and I'm good.
This week started off in fine style with Palm Sunday, which as everyone knows, is the favorite Sunday of the church year for cats the world over. How they love those fresh palms! This year's crop did not disappoint, and we had cats fighting over new palms upstairs and downstairs. At church, I was surprised to see a Palm Sunday pageant put on by the youth, since that has not been a tradition in my experience there, and everyone looked suitably Biblical in their robes and turbans. The congregation played the part of the bystanders, waving their palms at the procession, while the youth as the disciples, led Jesus into Jerusalem on a donkey. In what I thought was a brilliant bit of casting, the part of the donkey was played by an audio-visual cart that had been covered with blankets and fitted with a cardboard donkey head, so the disciples had no trouble pulling Jesus along the center aisle up to the chancel, just as smooth as you please. I don't mind saying this is in stark contrast to actual real donkeys, or even people dressed as donkeys, so I'm thinking that Jesus was probably pretty happy with his means of conveyance, at least compared to the alternatives. The timeless story of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem was told with reverence and enthusiasm, and all of the youngsters did a wonderful job from start to finish. Unfortunately, in all the excitement, the donkey lost his head before the end of the program, but still and all, it was inspiring and entertaining, and as welcome as it was unexpected.
Earlier in the week, of course, Monday was St. Patrick's Day, and somehow the venerable parade in New York City managed to take place as it traditionally does, but without all of the antagonism and legal wrangling that it usually has, so I would have to consider that a break with tradition right there. Perhaps having the parade during Holy Week was not such a bad idea after all. Actually, I never recall hearing one single solitary word about the entire parade, for weeks beforehand or after, unlike what usually happens, where the media circus surrounding all of the controversy starts months ahead of time. Seriously, with first Waitangi Day passing by without a murmur, and now St. Patrick's Day also quiet as a church mouse, it's enough to make you wonder if society has truly progressed to the point where holidays and armed conflict do not necessarily have to go hand-in-hand. I'm kidding, of course, or should I say, alas. In fact, the only story that kicked up a rumpus before the fabled parade was about an Irish bar that was going to prohibit its patrons from singing "Danny Boy" on St. Patrick's Day, which the management felt had been over-done to an extreme degree, although any other Irish songs would be acceptable. Unless you're an Irish tenor with a repertoire of unfamiliar tunes from the Emerald Isle, Bill and I realized that we had trouble coming up with anything after When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra, Molly Malone, Christmas in Killarney, MacNamara's Band, Harrigan, I'm Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover, Mother McGree and I'll Be Coming Home Again to You, Kathleen. So without old Danny Boy and the pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen, in sunshine and in clover, I'm thinking it would be pretty quiet in that bar after they ran through the rest of their Irish songs. I suppose they might have filled in with songs from Waitangi Day, but let's face it, that just wouldn't be the same thing at all.
I wore green to work on Monday, as I generally do in honor of the saint's day, because I'm on board with the idea that everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day, no matter who you are or where you come from. At our hospital, most people you see are wearing green anyway year-round, because our scrubs are Kelly green, and you'll find everyone from doctors and nurses, to radiologists, physical therapists, phlebotomists, pharmacists and anesthesiologists all walking around in bright green scrubs. One of my favorite things to do on the holiday is to stop someone in the hallway, like a Laboratory technician who is very obviously Asian with an unpronounceable name and the map of China all over their face, point at their scrubs and exclaim, "I never knew you were Irish!" Some of them laugh, and some just stare, as if they weren't expecting to encounter a three-headed polka-dot space alien on their rounds. My favorites are the ones who feel their national dignity has been impugned, and insist on correcting me, in the dense and incomprehensible accents of their home country, that they are certainly NOT Irish, as if they were likely to be mistaken for a freckle-faced child of the Old Sod. Yemen, go bragh!
It transpired that the next day, I wore a different outfit that also happened to be green, and you'd be surprised to find out, as I was, that it excites a lot of comment when you do that. Everywhere I went all day long, people stopped me in the hallways and said things like, "You should have worn that yesterday," or "you missed St. Patrick's Day," or "you're a day late," and on and on like that all the live-long day, with a banjo on my knee. It would have never occurred to me before what a conversation starter that is, and I can highly recommend it, at least for the purpose of getting the attention of strangers wherever you may go on March 18th. I'm thinking of starting my own holiday then, and calling it Easy to be Green Day, because at least it would already have built-in music (Green Day, get it?) and I already know that people seem incapable of passing up an opportunity to say something to you when you wear green on the day after St. Patrick's Day. I call that "The Shamrock Effect," which proves, I suppose, that timing is everything.
Speaking of days and times, here's a recent news story that seems to fly in the face of the way things are going nowadays:
=============================
Monday March 17, 2008 Study Says Daylight Saving Time May Waste Energy, Increase Pollution Categories: News and Events, Pollution, Science Tags: daylight saving time Earlier this month we all had to do what I cynically refer to as the obligatory clock walk. That's when all the clocks and watches around the house had to be sprung one hour forward for the daylight saving time (DST).
Yet, scrambling to advance time and catch more sunlight - a practice that was originally established to reduce the country's electricity usage - may actually cost us 1.21 gigawatts of power. The figure came by way of a UC Santa Barbara study of the state of Indiana, where DST has only been observed for the past few years.
According to Gizmodo, the study concluded that an added hour may have reduced the need for extra lighting. However, air-conditioning in the summer and heating in the fall were used more than they would with less daylight. This cost Indiana residents roughly $8.6 million more in energy bills annually with the additional $5.3 million per year in "increased pollution costs". Go figure!
=============================
Well, I can't think that the DST camp can be too pleased with those statistics, although I've long since given up on the idea that they care what anyone else thinks of their dastardly schemes at this point. Bill and I went out after dinner tonight, and at 6:00 PM, it was still broad daylight with the sun up, so that you would think it was later in the spring, and you could enjoy being outside in the nice weather. Oh, except for the fact that it's still the middle of March, thank you very much not, and it's all of 40 degrees outdoors, so even with the sun up, it feels more like springtime in Nome than time to break out the beach towels and flip-flops. The Daylight Scamming Tricksters can make it as light as they want, but it's still cold around here in March, and having sunlight after dinner when it's cold is just incongruous in these parts, no matter how they try to convince us otherwise. So until they come up with that Temperature Shifting Device that works in conjunction with Daylight Stupid Tampering, it's going to be nothing but a "time is out of joint" anomaly that will continue to be unjustifiable. Sort of like wearing green on the day after St. Patrick's Day, and I ought to know.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 7:24 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home