Jingle Bells, Batman Smells
Hello World,
Well, I have to say that the only explanation I can come up with for the continued frigid temperatures in the local region, would be if the bird bath heaters both stopped working, and were frozen solid at the bottom of the bird baths, with forlorn and thirsty birds standing by disconsolately. (Or as Jack Blanchard once famously observed: "Oh, remember me, my darling, when spring is in the air, and those bald-headed birds are whispering everywhere, when you see them walking southward in their dirty underwear, that's Tennessee Bird Walk!") But I hasten to point out that is not the case at all, the bird bath heaters are working fine, and both bird baths are free and clear, and open for business from any neighborhood visitors who care to partake of their watery goodness at any time of day or night. So why the thermometer continues to hover in the twenties around here is nothing but a mystery to me, since it has nothing to gain with the bird bath heaters working, and I would have figured it to get bored by now and move on to some other tactic. Perhaps the weather trolls have run short of boils and pestilence for the moment.
Speaking of weather, Bill and I happened to pick the right day to go out and choose a Christmas tree, because last Saturday was beautiful, while Sunday was a soggy and chilly mess. It was a little more crowded at the VFW lot than when we usually go, but there were still plenty of trees to go around, and lots of help to go right along with it. I always enjoy watching other people walk around and then pick out what I would call a little table-top tree, only about as tall as I am, with a nice small trunk, and a person can just carry it with one hand like an umbrella. I think it must be so cute to have a 5-foot tree, because they must be so easy to handle, decorate, move and take care of, compared to larger trees. Ours are usually twice that size, and more than twice as difficult to deal with, which is probably why people pick out small trees to start with. We've gotten some behemoths at the VFW over the years, that collapsed our roof rack, broke the tree stand, and one that had to be cut apart in the house just so we could get it out the door in January. The one we picked out this time, we thought it had a nice enough shape, although not overly full, and a bit on the short side for our living room. But as often happens, once we put it in the stand and stood it up, we were lucky to have just enough room at the top for the angel to fit without her wings touching the ceiling, so I guess it turned out that it was exactly the right height after all. Bill did his usual heroic job putting lights on it, transforming it into a glittery and twinkling spectacle that is a sight to behold and just as welcome. And let's face it, you can't beat that smell.
Speaking of smells, we get the following story from Bill, where things seem to have changed a lot in the tow truck business since the last time I looked:
=================================
I finally got to my question, which was one of the highlights of my day. He had taken an order for a parking lot sign where they chose a stock wording but wanted to add that cars in violation would be towed away . . .
"At vehicle owner's expense
to
Clark Bros. Garbage
93 No. Main St.
New London, OH 44851
419-929-0771"
I was going to do it that way, considering that perhaps the local refuse collectors doubled in brass (or at least maybe RECYCLING brass, and plastic and what passes for steel these days), but then I thought better of it and decided to ask. He actually laughed -- haven't heard much of THAT since the move. Amazingly enough, it was "Garage". Whooda thunk.
=================================
Bill seemed to think that was Freudian, but personally, I think even good old Sigmund would be wearing his nose clips on that one, by golly. And on the topic of other things that I can't stand the smell of, I contacted a local company about ordering some personalized gifts for the holiday, and the nice young lady asked me about my preference for a background color of the item. I said that red or green would be fine, or even something more neutral like white or gold would be perfectly adequate. In fact, I assured her that I would be happy with just about any color, as long as it wasn't blue, which seems to have somehow become the new Christmas color, since you find it unaccountably turning up nowadays on everything from ornaments to wrapping paper, novelty lights, table settings, decorations, and those atrocious holiday cards that businesses send their customers, and that only a Blue Meanie could love. It's true that I'm usually the one who says there's no wrong way to celebrate a holiday, but I draw the line at blue for Christmas, and if I see one more indigo card with a silver wreath or dove, wishing me season's greetings and prosperity in the new year, you can bet you'll hear me screaming blue murder until I'm blue in the face, and then some. Of course, there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, and even without the blue, holiday colors have gotten very peculiar since the dinosaurs and I first started wrapping gifts of rocks and twigs for our cave-dwelling friends back in the prehistoric days of yore. On every side, you see cards and decorations and paper products with a screaming orange-y color that I would describe as Chinese red, and is no relation to true Santa Claus red, while the green, instead of being bright and festive, is more of a strange lime color that goes with nothing and is about as Christmas-y as guacamole. If it had been like this years ago, they never would have written a seasonal song called The Holly and The Ivy, it would have been known as The Chinese Firecracker and The Guacamole instead. Served in a blue bowl, of course.
Meanwhile on FaceBook, Christmas has arrived in full force, with all of the games offering yule-themed treats for your farm, your apartment, your mob, your garden, your pet, your bar, your amusement park, your restaurant, your neighbors, your zoo, your army, your vampire, your aquarium, your sorority or your Band of Merrie Men, not to mention, your superhero. Holy guacamole, Batman! I see that my virtual zoo is awash with Santa's, elves and snowmen flitting from one exhibit to another, although in a perhaps misguided attempt at accuracy, they didn't animate the snowmen to actually walk like people, or even glide mysteriously over the ground, but instead, execute a sort of awkward "crouch-hop" to propel themselves along, as if this would be a more realistic rendering of your average snowman out cavorting in the open air. I don't know exactly what the game designers had in mind with this maneuver, but my recommendation to them would be not to give up their day jobs.
Also not ready for prime time, Bill recently took a survey about high blood pressure, where they asked the participants to rate their attitude about statements such as "A significant risk factor for other conditions" and "Something I need to be concerned about." Our friends at onesurvey.com helpfully provided the following categories to measure the ratings:
Strongly Agree
Agree
Neutral
Agree
Strongly Agree
Well, it would be hard to disagree with that, so thank you for playing our game, and please step out of the booth! I guess that's what you describe as taking no chances in the survey business, where they are obviously interested in your opinion, as long as you agree with them, that is. It's easy to say that our old friend Freud has shown up with his slip again, but I'm more inclined to think that the Blue Meanies have gotten into the guacamole one more time instead.
Since this is the last weekend before Christmas, no tribute to the big day would be complete without the following holiday tidbit from Bill's online calendar, and I personally defy anyone to improve upon this, try as they might:
~>^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~
SPACED-OUT SPORTSA REAL (BUT STRANGE) SPORTGallivare, Sweden, 60 miles south of the Arctic Circle, is home to the Father Christmas Olympics. Fifty or more contestants dressed as Father Christmas (or Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, St. Nicholas . . .) come from all over Europe to compete in several Santa-related categories, including sled riding, reindeer riding, chimney climbing, and gift wrapping (with points for speed and beauty). Contestants are also rated on generosity, jolliness, and their ability to ho-ho-ho. Any Santa caught smoking or drinking in front of children is automatically disqualified.
~>^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~
I have to say that I'm okay with the smoking and drinking part, and I can wrap a mean package, or ride a sled with the best of them, so this sort of thing might be right up my alley, or rather, chimney. After all, I already have a left-over Mrs. Santa Claus costume from Halloween, just waiting for me to dust it off and take my chances along with Rudolph, to join in any reindeer games. You'll know that's me up in the frozen north, when you hear a jolly ho-ho-ho, and don't spare the guacamole!
Elle
Well, I have to say that the only explanation I can come up with for the continued frigid temperatures in the local region, would be if the bird bath heaters both stopped working, and were frozen solid at the bottom of the bird baths, with forlorn and thirsty birds standing by disconsolately. (Or as Jack Blanchard once famously observed: "Oh, remember me, my darling, when spring is in the air, and those bald-headed birds are whispering everywhere, when you see them walking southward in their dirty underwear, that's Tennessee Bird Walk!") But I hasten to point out that is not the case at all, the bird bath heaters are working fine, and both bird baths are free and clear, and open for business from any neighborhood visitors who care to partake of their watery goodness at any time of day or night. So why the thermometer continues to hover in the twenties around here is nothing but a mystery to me, since it has nothing to gain with the bird bath heaters working, and I would have figured it to get bored by now and move on to some other tactic. Perhaps the weather trolls have run short of boils and pestilence for the moment.
Speaking of weather, Bill and I happened to pick the right day to go out and choose a Christmas tree, because last Saturday was beautiful, while Sunday was a soggy and chilly mess. It was a little more crowded at the VFW lot than when we usually go, but there were still plenty of trees to go around, and lots of help to go right along with it. I always enjoy watching other people walk around and then pick out what I would call a little table-top tree, only about as tall as I am, with a nice small trunk, and a person can just carry it with one hand like an umbrella. I think it must be so cute to have a 5-foot tree, because they must be so easy to handle, decorate, move and take care of, compared to larger trees. Ours are usually twice that size, and more than twice as difficult to deal with, which is probably why people pick out small trees to start with. We've gotten some behemoths at the VFW over the years, that collapsed our roof rack, broke the tree stand, and one that had to be cut apart in the house just so we could get it out the door in January. The one we picked out this time, we thought it had a nice enough shape, although not overly full, and a bit on the short side for our living room. But as often happens, once we put it in the stand and stood it up, we were lucky to have just enough room at the top for the angel to fit without her wings touching the ceiling, so I guess it turned out that it was exactly the right height after all. Bill did his usual heroic job putting lights on it, transforming it into a glittery and twinkling spectacle that is a sight to behold and just as welcome. And let's face it, you can't beat that smell.
Speaking of smells, we get the following story from Bill, where things seem to have changed a lot in the tow truck business since the last time I looked:
=================================
I finally got to my question, which was one of the highlights of my day. He had taken an order for a parking lot sign where they chose a stock wording but wanted to add that cars in violation would be towed away . . .
"At vehicle owner's expense
to
Clark Bros. Garbage
93 No. Main St.
New London, OH 44851
419-929-0771"
I was going to do it that way, considering that perhaps the local refuse collectors doubled in brass (or at least maybe RECYCLING brass, and plastic and what passes for steel these days), but then I thought better of it and decided to ask. He actually laughed -- haven't heard much of THAT since the move. Amazingly enough, it was "Garage". Whooda thunk.
=================================
Bill seemed to think that was Freudian, but personally, I think even good old Sigmund would be wearing his nose clips on that one, by golly. And on the topic of other things that I can't stand the smell of, I contacted a local company about ordering some personalized gifts for the holiday, and the nice young lady asked me about my preference for a background color of the item. I said that red or green would be fine, or even something more neutral like white or gold would be perfectly adequate. In fact, I assured her that I would be happy with just about any color, as long as it wasn't blue, which seems to have somehow become the new Christmas color, since you find it unaccountably turning up nowadays on everything from ornaments to wrapping paper, novelty lights, table settings, decorations, and those atrocious holiday cards that businesses send their customers, and that only a Blue Meanie could love. It's true that I'm usually the one who says there's no wrong way to celebrate a holiday, but I draw the line at blue for Christmas, and if I see one more indigo card with a silver wreath or dove, wishing me season's greetings and prosperity in the new year, you can bet you'll hear me screaming blue murder until I'm blue in the face, and then some. Of course, there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, and even without the blue, holiday colors have gotten very peculiar since the dinosaurs and I first started wrapping gifts of rocks and twigs for our cave-dwelling friends back in the prehistoric days of yore. On every side, you see cards and decorations and paper products with a screaming orange-y color that I would describe as Chinese red, and is no relation to true Santa Claus red, while the green, instead of being bright and festive, is more of a strange lime color that goes with nothing and is about as Christmas-y as guacamole. If it had been like this years ago, they never would have written a seasonal song called The Holly and The Ivy, it would have been known as The Chinese Firecracker and The Guacamole instead. Served in a blue bowl, of course.
Meanwhile on FaceBook, Christmas has arrived in full force, with all of the games offering yule-themed treats for your farm, your apartment, your mob, your garden, your pet, your bar, your amusement park, your restaurant, your neighbors, your zoo, your army, your vampire, your aquarium, your sorority or your Band of Merrie Men, not to mention, your superhero. Holy guacamole, Batman! I see that my virtual zoo is awash with Santa's, elves and snowmen flitting from one exhibit to another, although in a perhaps misguided attempt at accuracy, they didn't animate the snowmen to actually walk like people, or even glide mysteriously over the ground, but instead, execute a sort of awkward "crouch-hop" to propel themselves along, as if this would be a more realistic rendering of your average snowman out cavorting in the open air. I don't know exactly what the game designers had in mind with this maneuver, but my recommendation to them would be not to give up their day jobs.
Also not ready for prime time, Bill recently took a survey about high blood pressure, where they asked the participants to rate their attitude about statements such as "A significant risk factor for other conditions" and "Something I need to be concerned about." Our friends at onesurvey.com helpfully provided the following categories to measure the ratings:
Strongly Agree
Agree
Neutral
Agree
Strongly Agree
Well, it would be hard to disagree with that, so thank you for playing our game, and please step out of the booth! I guess that's what you describe as taking no chances in the survey business, where they are obviously interested in your opinion, as long as you agree with them, that is. It's easy to say that our old friend Freud has shown up with his slip again, but I'm more inclined to think that the Blue Meanies have gotten into the guacamole one more time instead.
Since this is the last weekend before Christmas, no tribute to the big day would be complete without the following holiday tidbit from Bill's online calendar, and I personally defy anyone to improve upon this, try as they might:
~>^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~
SPACED-OUT SPORTSA REAL (BUT STRANGE) SPORTGallivare, Sweden, 60 miles south of the Arctic Circle, is home to the Father Christmas Olympics. Fifty or more contestants dressed as Father Christmas (or Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, St. Nicholas . . .) come from all over Europe to compete in several Santa-related categories, including sled riding, reindeer riding, chimney climbing, and gift wrapping (with points for speed and beauty). Contestants are also rated on generosity, jolliness, and their ability to ho-ho-ho. Any Santa caught smoking or drinking in front of children is automatically disqualified.
~>^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~ >^..^< ~
I have to say that I'm okay with the smoking and drinking part, and I can wrap a mean package, or ride a sled with the best of them, so this sort of thing might be right up my alley, or rather, chimney. After all, I already have a left-over Mrs. Santa Claus costume from Halloween, just waiting for me to dust it off and take my chances along with Rudolph, to join in any reindeer games. You'll know that's me up in the frozen north, when you hear a jolly ho-ho-ho, and don't spare the guacamole!
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:21 PM
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