Hit The Sauce

Hello World,

And so once again, and way too soon, we find ourselves at the very end of another month, and perched on the brink of the month after, this time March, and the Madness that is its namesake. To the untrained observer, it would appear that unlike February which boasts Presidents Day, there are no legitimate holidays in March, even though the latter month outlasts the former by at least two days every year, and usually three. In fact, the month isn't even famous for March Madness anymore, which was named after it in the first place, since they moved the Final Four to April instead. Of course, they could have changed the name of it to something like April Goes Ape in the interests of linguistic accuracy, not that anyone has ever accused the NCAA of being a bastion of literal purity, although I will agree with them that the term April Madness does lack a certain flair. (That reminds me of some junk email that I got recently, where our friends at leafwhitewater.com posed the musical question: "Do you have a flare for designing?" to which I couldn't help but retort, "Gee, I hope not!") We have now officially reached the point where October has no Fall Classic, January has no Super Bowl, and March has no Final Four, so the rout of traditional standards is all but complete, bar the shouting, and the dinosaurs and I have certainly done enough of that, heaven knows.

However, everyone knows that we can count on the dedicated and hard-working research team here, for their scrupulous investigations and pinpoint accuracy, to come up with the goods to rescue March from the shameful oblivion of having no days worth celebrating. Au contraire! (That's French for "Put down that designing flare!") A quick search reveals that March is not only National Craft Month and National Frozen Food Month, but also National Women's History Month and National Peanut Month, which should really be enough for any one month all by itself. Not so! We apparently have March to thank for a diverse array of days, celebrating the likes of Old Stuff, Potato Chips, Ear Muffs, Johnny Appleseed, Chip and Dip, Take a Walk in the Park, Chocolate Covered Raisins, Bunsen Burners, Girl Scouts, Pecans, Waffles, Earth Day, Something on a Stick and Smoke & Mirrors. Of course, the legendary St. Patrick's Day is on the 17th, but you may be surprised to learn that it is preceded by Dumbstruck Day on the 16th, and followed by National Goof Off Day on the 22nd. And while everyone knows that the 15th is the Ides of March, it is also Everything You Know is Wrong Day, so maybe we don't all know that after all. On the 3rd, we can all celebrate If Pets Had Thumbs Day, followed by Multi Personality Day on the 5th and Panic Day on the 9th, and I certainly don't doubt it. In fact, it's a wonder how they manage to squeeze it all in, with only 31 days to work with, and not resorting to the same subterfuge as the NCAA, and just commandeering parts of April when they run out of room. One thing I'm glad they left space for is Make Up Your Own Holiday on the 26th, which is an occasion after my own heart, and you know if I was making up one of my own, it would certainly include plenty of eggnog, fireworks, party hats, M&Ms, polka music, lasagna, presents, costumes and chocolate sauce on everything. I say throw in a marching band, and you've got the kind of holiday that we can all rally around, and don't spare the rainbow sprinkles!

I don't have to tell anyone in the local area that this has been an unusual winter, even by New York standards, and we're used to a pretty wide range of conditions. Two weeks ago, they said on the news that our average snowfall should be around 15 inches, and at that time, we already had over 30 inches, and that was without the last two storms that just came roaring through here last week. In fact, in the paper today, it said that February had broken a record for snowfall that had lasted 114 years in the state, and it certainly felt like it to anyone who has been out there shoveling. Back when Bill said that he had put away the snow-thrower for the season, I figured we could blame him for any freak late blizzards in April, but apparently we didn't have to wait that long for the repercussions to bury us in puffy white flakes. In between snow storms, it has been very cold, it seems to me much colder than normal for this time of year, and I've been wearing my heavy winter coat and boots much more than I usually do. On the other hand, I always say at least you don't have to shovel cold, so I don't want to compare that unfavorably to snow, although it would not be an exaggeration to say that both of them have long since worn out their welcome by now, and then some.

And it seemed that just when we needed it the most, there are no heaters working their magic to keep the bird baths from icing over. Apparently it was not the heaters, or even the GFI outlet that they're plugged into, which I couldn't get to reset once it tripped. As far as I can tell, the heaters and GFI seem to be working fine, but the extension cord that runs from the house to the front yard has a bare spot where the wires are exposed, so I had to unplug it rather than run the risk of burning down the house. I can get another cord, but I would have to snake it through all of the cracks and crevices that would take it from inside to outside, plus under the crawlspace, through the brambles and all the way around Robin Hood's barn to get to the bird baths, which is unappealing under the best of circumstances, and in 10 inches of snow ..... well, let's just say, that's not going to happen. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Summer happens before that, and if the lack of bird bath heaters ushers in a new Ice Age instead, there would only be one thing left to say, so I may as well go ahead and say it now: "I'm sorry."

On the other hand, in a refreshing change from the dull dreariness of Winter's chill around here, and for which the Winter Olympics from frozen Vancouver have been no relief at all, the newspapers have been awash with pictures from warmer climes, in a yearly ritual as welcome as a breath of Spring. Yes, it's time once again for Pitchers and Catchers to report for Spring Training, and there's nothing like young men playing ball in the sunshine to make life seem worth living again, and give us all hope for a brighter tomorrow, by golly. Right now, they're just limbering up and doing practice drills, and it will be another couple of weeks before they start playing actual preseason games, but as a harbinger of better things to come, it would still be hard to beat. In fact, knowing how desperate people are for sports at this time of year, the networks have even started televising some of these early games from the south, and while they don't count for anything, are still a tonic for the shivering northerners, scanning the horizon for any good news to buoy their spirits. In the perfect world that is Spring Training, hope burns bright, possibilities are endless, last year is forgotten, everyone is redeemed, and the season stretches out before us, just bursting with promise and expectation. And just like Make Up Your Own Holiday, I believe that if Spring Training didn't already exist, someone would have to invent it, because without it, Winter would just be unendurable.

Speaking of Winter, we've now officially entered what I would have to describe as the sitcom version of holiday decor, and for which I have no explanation, nor will I make excuses for the guilty parties, who I'm sure know who they are. Alert readers may recall that I was snookered into taking home the Christmas tree from church, even though I didn't want it, but trying to be a good sport about it nonetheless. Then I stumbled over another abandoned holiday tree in the parking lot at church, and felt obligated to remove it, rather than leaving it to be someone else's problem, and once again, even though I didn't want or need that one either. Now following the Comedy Rule of Three in inexplicable fashion, I found yet another abandoned yuletide tree in the parking lot at work, of all places, and I don't mind saying, more than two months after the jolly old elf and his eight tiny reindeer have long since retired back to the North Pole to relax and catch up on their soap operas, or whatever they do in the off-season. This one was also on the small side, and light enough, so I picked it up and stuffed it in the Escort to bring it home, although getting it out of the car was more of a sitcom moment than I would have preferred, since like a fish hook, old dead Christmas trees go in a lot easier than they come out. And while it's true that I like the smell of pine as much as the next guy, and maybe more than most, I will say that I will never get all the pine needles out of my car at this rate, not if I have it 100 years. Then in an even more improbably sitcom turn of events, when I left work last week, I discovered two more moldy old Christmas trees out at the curb on my way home, but I left them right where they were, figuring they were the City's problem and not mine. I have no explanation for why all of these extraneous trees have cropped up at this late date, since many people use the Twelve Days of Christmas Rule to take down their decorations by Epiphany in the beginning of January, and be done with it. Perhaps some enterprising folks took advantage of Make Up Your Own Holiday to invent Throw Out Your Christmas Tree at the end of February, and the rest of us just haven't heard about it yet. I guess that would explain all the chocolate sauce.

Elle

Eye of the Tiger

Hello World,

Now is certainly the time to wish everyone you know a very happy Hong Kong Bok Choy, since Chinese New Year started on Sunday, and will be wrapping up with a bang next week, and don't spare the dragons. You can just go right ahead and feel free to say "Hong Kong Bok Choy" to everybody, because there will be no one left to correct you, since all the Asians who would know better are off for the week celebrating the new year. One thing you can say about the Chinese is that they certainly know how to throw a party, and they usher in the Asian Lunar Year of 4707 with a two-week extravaganza of parades, fireworks, paper lanterns, lucky foods and no doubt plenty of whatever is the Oriental equivalent of green beer.

Not so fast! Here's what our friends at wikipedia.org have to say about it:

==================================
Although the Chinese calendar traditionally does not use continuously numbered years, outside China its years are often numbered from the reign of Huangdi. But at least three different years numbered 1 are now used by various scholars, making the year 2010 "Chinese Year" 4708, 4707, or 4647.
==================================

In any case, this time around, we're celebrating the Year of the Tiger, so for anyone born this year, or in 1998, 1986, 1974, 1962, 1950, 1938 or 1926, this is the year for you. This is a cultural festival that doesn't generate any controversy, unlike St. Patrick's Day or Waitangi Day, for instance, so anyone can jump right on this bandwagon and join right in on the celebration, without being any more Chinese than the occasional egg roll. There's little enough to celebrate in the dead of winter around here, heaven knows, so I say get out there and party like it's 4708, 4707, or 4647!

Of course, Sunday was also Valentine's Day, and everyone knows that any day that starts with presents is my kind of day, that's for sure. The best part was that it didn't fall within Lent, as so often happens, so everyone could enjoy its spirit of indulgence and frivolity with no qualms. The Valentine elves did their usual fine job at our house, and we were glad to unwrap numerous confectionery treats, as well as some practical or fanciful items besides. (Although it must be said that my personal favorite, a stuffed gorilla with sparkly boxing gloves and heart-themed shorts, who exclaims "You're a knockout!" when you press a button, scared the wits out of our cats, who fled the room in terror and haven't returned since.) Even better, we both had Monday off from work, and many thanks to all of the Presidents throughout history - the good, the bad, and the ugly - in honor of whom, we get a day off to relax and enjoy ourselves. I'm prepared to raise a toast to the great and the small alike, from Washington to Cleveland, and all the cities in between, not to mention, across the fruited plain and purple mountain's majesty, white with foam, or something like that. The very next day was Mardi Gras to some, and Shrove Tuesday to others, where they were living large in the Big Easy, or easy baking their large pancakes in church basements all across the country, and once again, white with foam or something like it. Then it was Ash Wednesday ushering in the season of Lent for the next six weeks, and once again as a public service, I must warn everyone about grouchy Christians who have given up chocolate for Lent, in what I consider a woefully misguided attempt at personal sacrifice that winds up being much more of a penance to the rest of us around them than we probably deserve. Personally, I would like to see some enterprising ecclesiastic supply company introduce The Chocolate Patch specifically for this purpose, so that people giving up chocolate for Lent are not a danger to themselves or an affliction to everyone else.

Alert readers may recall that all of the neighbors had been invited to a Mardi Gras party on Saturday, hosted by the nice young couple next door to us, and I was glad to go, resplendent in mask and beads to beat the (Dixieland) band or know the reason why. The whole neighborhood turned out for the occasion, each one with a mask, or costume, or both, and carrying a hostess gift, so I was glad that I stopped off to pick up some chocolate truffles ahead of time to bring with me. There are 40 houses in the neighborhood association, and it appeared that there was at least one person from each one, including some old-timers who haven't lived in the neighborhood for decades, it seemed to me. By golly, word certainly travels fast around here when there's food involved, and you can count on people showing up in droves, you'd think they were all Lutherans or something. (Oh, hit that easy target!) I also had a chance to talk with the new neighbors on the other side of us, who have a cute little cat who is always in our yard, and is very friendly, even with total strangers, and not just on the prowl for a handout. This is a far cry from our cats, where even the non-invisible ones are still skittish after years of living with us, and would vanish instantaneously at the mere mention of strangers, much less having one actually set foot inside the door. In fact, if someone came to our house, they would think we had no cats at all, as they would see neither hide nor hair of one, and have to assume that we were just maintaining a collection of litter boxes scattered around the place for their decorative appeal. (NOT!)

Speaking of appeal, the new interim pastor at church mentioned his wife recently, which prompted me to remark that I had never met the woman, in spite of the fact that he had been at our church for six months, and I had attended his Ordination even before that. I said that I understood that sometimes my deodorant doesn't work all that well, but I think she could at least stand across the room with a handkerchief over her nose and just wave at me. He explained that she has been to some of the special services, like Christmas Eve, and she was certainly at the Ordination ceremony, as would be expected. Well, the only conclusion I could draw from that, I had to point out, was to surmise that she's intentionally ducking me, which honestly makes no sense, since she doesn't even know me, and supposedly would have no reason to duck me in the first place. The pastor suggested that perhaps my reputation precedes me, and his wife was already rejecting me preemptively, just to be on the safe side. Heck, I haven't even given up chocolate for Lent, I can't imagine what she could be afraid of. But the way I figure it, it's her loss, because at this rate, she'll never get invited to our house to see our vast collection of litter boxes.

Elle

Funny Face

Hello World,

Happy! There's so many eventful days coming up that a person just wouldn't know where to start to wish anybody a happy everything. It's not only Valentine's Day, but also the beginning of Chinese New Year, plus Mardi Gras, Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday, all in a lump of romance, frivolity, lunacy and repentance, and I want to be in that number, when the saints go marching in, by golly. These are not goofy little ersatz holidays that have been fabricated out of whole cloth by the greeting card companies or advertising agencies, but the actual real heavy-hitters of the genre that have stood the test of time, and some of them, back even before time started. Everyone knows that I'm on board with the idea that there's no wrong way to celebrate holidays, so I invite you to pick one and give it all you've got, or try a little bit of them all, in the true spirit of tolerance and diversity. Whichever you choose, I hope you'll have a whale of a time, but you'd better put the spurs to it, because everyone knows that time is fleeting.

Not so fast! I couldn't help but notice the opposite effect seems to have created its own sort of tempus fugit anomaly in the area, much to my surprise. Our local newspaper (their motto: "After All, You Can't Wrap Fish in the Internet") described it this way -

"We're looking for guest bloggers to help us cover
Hudson Valley Restaurant Week, which goes from
March 15 through 28."

Excuse me??? That sounds like one pretty long week to me, and don't forget, I'm coming off several short weeks in a row at work, and they are always the longest weeks in the world, so I have some experience with this phenomenon already. Of course, one doesn't want to rain on the Restaurant Week parade, as it were, and make them cut short their festivities for the sake of linguistic accuracy, but I would like to think that it would not be beyond the expertise of the newspaper to come up with a different term to describe their 14-day extravaganza, rather than using the word "week" as if it means just any old assortment of a various number of days. Also not saying what they mean, I mentioned to Bill that the neighbors had invited us to a Mardi Gras party on Saturday, to which he retorted: "May I point out that this is like a Thanksgiving Day Parade on the Saturday before Thanksgiving? Obviously this is a 'Samedi Gras' party, non?" Well, in the interests of linguistic accuracy, I'd have to agree with him there.

Of course, the Mardi Gras came way early in New Orleans this year, as their beloved Saints won the Super Bowl in improbable fashion over the favored Colts, and turning the city even more on its head than usual at this time of year, which is a tough trick to pull off. It was a first for the Saints and their legions of long-suffering fans, and they celebrated like it was the first thing they had won since the Battle of New Orleans in 1815, with the Colts being represented by the British Army instead, and musket balls rather than footballs, although the outcome was fundamentally the same in both cases. And historically speaking, no recital of February days would be complete without mentioning the birthday of our sixteenth President, Abraham Lincoln, on Friday the 12th, and the dinosaurs and I can remember a time when this was celebrated as its very own holiday, far and wide. Nowadays, poor old Honest Abe is lumped in together with the rest of the thundering herd on Presidents Day, coming up on Monday, and celebrating them all, regardless of their merits, makes this not so much of an honor to the deserving, as it is a consolation prize to the rogues and scoundrels instead, and they know who they are, believe me.

Speaking of consolation, now that even the Super Bowl is behind us, this leaves the wide world of sports even fewer options to entice the hard-core fan, wearing out the buttons on the TV remote in a desperate attempt to find some other athletic competition besides figure skating, gymnastics or college basketball. They already played the Pro Bowl the week before the Super Bowl, so there's not even that to look forward to, and although the Winter Olympics are about to get underway, not everyone finds them as interesting as the network executives apparently hope they would. Just when you think that it can't possibly get any worse, when the 24-hour sports channels are reduced to showing girls high school lacrosse or championship darts in prime time, along comes something even more pathetic, at least according to one alert reader:

========================
Did you know that ESPN has played the National SCRABBLE Tournaments? I've seen video clips but have never seen it live. It's amazing to see the big Plexiglas game form filled out as the players play on a regular board. There was commentary about player's stats and strategies, too.
========================

I'm thinking that if somebody doesn't come up with a sport to fill in between January and April for the non-basketball fans, we could all find ourselves in big trouble. After all, the dinosaurs didn't all just become extinct for no reason, you know.

And while we're on the topic of gone but not forgotten, there's the distant and unlamented pastor of our church, who although he is in Lebanon at present, can nonetheless invade the sanctity of our homes and private moments, through the miracle of modern technology, which as I've pointed out before, can be a double-edged sword, especially in the wrong hands. As a public service to those of you who may be having trouble sleeping, I would like to announce that he has a new book, published by our friends at Wipf and Stock Publishers, and available at their web site [ http://wipfandstock.com ] along with many other fine offerings for a discerning public, at least to hear them tell it, anyway. The book is "Kinderbeten" by Eric J. Swensson, and concerns an 18th century children's prayer movement in Silesia (now part of Germany) which launched a religious revival that could be endlessly fascinating, unless described by the pastor of my church, in which case it would become impossibly dull in the extreme. I found just the review of it to be enough to make me nod off while standing on my feet, and I was only reading it with one eye, trying to shield myself from the full impact of its soporific properties. So for all of you insomniacs suffering out there, I'm happy to pass this along in the interests of better sleep, however, I warn you that a powerful sedative of this magnitude must be used with caution and in moderation, after all, you don't want to end up like the dinosaurs.

Also at church, the interim pastor had the week off, so the Sunday worship was led by a deacon, who happened to be the wife of a pastor from a different church, with an unlikely name like Kerri McWilliams, of all things. Now, the dinosaurs and I can remember a time when pastor's wives had sensible names like Ruth or Norma or Esther, and none of this Kerri nonsense. After all, you don't read in the Bible any stories about people like David and Bambi, or Samson and Dodi, or Solomon and Shari, although with Today's New International Version, heaven knows, you probably do now. In fact, in the TNIV when Moses comes down from the mountaintop with the Ten Commandments, he probably doesn't even carry them on clay tablets, but disseminates them to everyone on Twitter instead, which would explain why it is that the dinosaurs became extinct, since they probably all died laughing, and no wonder.

Meanwhile in other technology news, the evil geniuses at FaceBook once again decided against leaving well enough alone, and foisted another new format on everyone, without a word of warning, and already a done deal with no recourse, in what can only be described as "a face accompli." (Hey, I'll bet they didn't see that one coming!) So far, I think the biggest surprise is that this despotic fiat hasn't incited the usual hue-and-cry among the FB community that we have all come to know and expect from previous tinkerings with their precious settings, in spite of being caught unawares. I heard from a colleague that under the new format, she lost all of her Friends, so FaceBook assigned her a bunch of strangers instead, and thanks so very much not. In place of an earnest and long-winded commentary from the FB executives about the change, as they did with the last reformat, this time they posted a brief bulleted list that outlined what they considered the "improvements," and left it at that. In their opinion, the new system is more simple, and I suppose in some ways it might be true, that is, except for the parts that used to be much more direct and are now exceedingly more complicated, and once again, thanks so very much not. Of course, it does no good to complain, heaven knows, but when it comes to the evil genius department, two can play that game, and I already have my own plan to get back at them. I'm going to send them a copy of the pastor's new book and describe it to them as "a real page-turner," which in terms of linguistic accuracy, is about on a par with them trying to convince us that their new format is "simpler." Then we'll see if they think being extinct is so funny, and the dinosaurs will have the last laugh after all. Or as we say in the German children's prayer movement, "Gesundheit!"

Elle

Sew And Sew

Hello World,

Happy (belated) Groundhog Day! I hope that you enjoyed a very wonderful holiday on Tuesday, in keeping with the true spirit of the occasion, and ground that hog, or hogged that ground, or whatever it is that we're supposed to do when the big day rolls around. My personal feeling is that there's no wrong way to celebrate a holiday, in spite of the Holiday Police, so I say you might as well go right ahead and break out the green beer, noisemakers, lederhosen and fireworks, not to mention the ubiquitous marshmallow Peeps, and party till the cows come home. Or at least the groundhogs, although I have to day that if they come home here, they'll have to bring their own Peeps, because I'm not sharing.

In other event news, of the more monumental variety, the wait is finally over, and we have arrived at the weekend that includes Super Bowl Sunday at long last. Of course, that means that the rest of the sports scene is pretty slim pickings, and all of the multitude of 24-hour sports channels are finding themselves with plenty of time on their hands and not much to cover. In fact, I just noticed that the mighty ESPN was reduced to showing high school basketball in prime time, and I know this because it was highlighted in the Best Bets of our TV listings, so that has to tell you something right there. Next it will be championship Tiddly Winks from the Nursery School League, with the sideline reporter doing an in-depth story on the toddler playing left tiddly. Except for the Super Bowl, the rest of February has such a dearth of sports that it's a wonder the government doesn't just step in and invent a sport for the month, to preserve the peace and keep an unruly populace from wholesale rioting. It certainly explains why the Romans cut the month short, so that we could get it out of the way and come to March Madness sooner, and don't forget, that was back when the Super Bowl was still being played in January.

Apart from sports, however, February does boast more than its share of eventful days, and not just Groundhog Day, not by a long shot. Of course, everyone knows that tomorrow is Waitangi Day, followed by the Super Bowl on Sunday. The following Sunday is not only Valentine's Day, beloved by romantics and merchants alike, but the beginning of Chinese New Year, and this will be the Year of the Tiger. Hard on the heels of that will be Mardi Gras on Tuesday, followed by Ash Wednesday, which ushers in the season of Lent, putting an end to all of this frivolity. Not so fast! There's still plenty more to celebrate in the month, which certainly packs a festive wallop for being the shortest month of the year. It goes without saying that February is Black History Month, and also boasts the birthdays of two famous Presidents, as well as Presidents Day to honor all the chief executives throughout the country's history, well, at least until recently, when there was not much worth celebrating in that office. There's also Candlemas on the 2nd, Umbrella Day on the 10th, Love Your Pet Day on the 21st and Polar Bear Day on the 27th. I think my favorite day of the month is the 20th, which they claim has no events or observances associated with it at all. Mind you, this calendar goes on to list other so-called events for the month such as Floral Design Day, Repetitive Strain Injuries Awareness Day, Banana Bread Day, Ferris Wheel Day, Read to Your Child Day, Chocolate Mint Day, Clean out Your Computer Day, Thank a Mailman Day and Stuffed Mushroom Day, to name just a few. So for them to say that there is nothing happening on February 20th, by golly, that's got to set some kind of record for nothingness, compared to the stuff they have already listed. Personally, I think this is the kind of day that we can all rally around, and I propose that we nominate February 20th as Celebrate Nothing Day, and don't spare the green beer, noisemakers, lederhosen and fireworks!

Also getting a jump on things, I couldn't help but notice in the Wheels Extra section of our newspaper, they were running a blaring front page story about the 2011 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Now, I'm as much of a forward-thinker as anybody (oh, alright - I admit that I'm about as forward-thinking as your average Troglodyte, as I'm sure everyone can hear the derisive howls of laughter from my old friends the dinosaurs, even hundreds of millions of years later) but I feel compelled to point out that it's not even the first week in February 2010, and this is my idea of something that's about as premature as it gets. And it's not even like the excruciatingly horrific 2009, which everyone is still trying to wash the taste out of their mouths, so that skipping ahead to the next model year would make some sense and give people something to look forward to. Of course, the people at Jeep may know something the rest of us don't, but I have to say that if 2010 is planning to be worse than 2009, it's going to take a lot more than a new car to do any good.

Speaking of things that are no good, it was on Thursday that I left work as I usually do, and when I got to the parking lot, I unaccountably slipped on some ice and went down like a ton of bricks. Although I wasn't carrying anything in my hands at the time, there was nothing nearby to grasp onto, and of course I was weighed down with my 100-pound backpack, and nowhere to go but flat on the ground. Actually, when I started to lose my balance, it was like everything was happening in slow-motion, and I remember starting to collapse down vertically, so that I would be closer to the ground when I hit, rather than falling forward at full speed. I landed on my hands and knees, and managed to push backward to reverse my forward momentum so I wouldn't keep rolling forward and hit my head, especially since I was wearing my glasses at the time. Suddenly, it was like one of those cartoons, where the character is perched precariously in some untenable location, and the next thing that shows up is the anvil dropping out of the sky on them: still following that path of forward trajectory, along comes my 100-pound backpack from behind and slams me in the back of my head, and I don't mind saying, thanks oh so very much not. I still didn't hit my face, for which I was grateful for small favors, and I rolled over onto my hip so I could rub my knees, which weren't bleeding, but very painful, and not to mention, that pair of pantyhose will never be the same, believe me. I said to Bill that I felt like Abraham Lincoln, who once famously observed: "It hurts too much to laugh, and I'm too big to cry." At that point, the sensible thing to do would have been to put down my backpack, and grab onto the guardrail of the parking lot to pull myself up with, but apparently my brain had stopped working a while ago, so I didn't think of that until long afterward. So now I was sitting on the ground in the driveway of the parking lot, and anyone coming in from the street would have run me right over and never seen me, and I had not only gravity and my 100-pound backpack to overcome, but what I would usually use to help stand up with - my hands and knees - both hurt too much for that. First I checked around for no more ice, and then propped myself up on my fingertips and toes, and somehow got to my feet again and wobbled over to my car, and grateful to get there safely. Actually, I was glad that it didn't turn out to be a whole lot worse, and also lucky that I could count on Bill's careful ministrations, some pain relievers, an ice pack and mega-doses of junk food to help me feel better. I'm still sore, but at least my glasses are still in one piece, so I have much to be thankful for. But I'm thinking that I really have to stop carrying around that cartoon anvil.

And what could be new and exciting in the world of adult learning, you may be wondering, and well may you wonder. Fortunately, I have the Larchmont & Mamaroneck Continuing Education brochure for Spring 2010 (and you can just go right ahead to their web site at www.LMCCE.org and see for yourself) so I have the answers right here at my fingertips. You'll be glad to know, as I was, that besides their Creative Writing Workshops and 19 language classes, they also feature such diverse fare as Modern Crochet, Belly Dancing, Mah-jongg, Plan Your Next Life Chapter, Zumba Fitness, Online Social Networking, Mexican Tortillas and Salsas, Antiquing, Mastering Your Digital Camera, Basic Dog Obedience, plus Baby and Toddler CPR, although I have to say that I personally wouldn't trust a baby to give me CPR, thank you very much not. I couldn't help but be impressed with their numerous offerings in a sturdy 26-page brochure, which seemed to have something for just about everyone. The one that really got my attention was in the Arts & Crafts section, and would set you back $105 if you wanted to sign up for the 4-week course. It goes by the unlikely name of "Sew a Stylish 'Green' Tote Bag," and that seems to be the whole extent of the class, apart from also making a little pouch to hold your tote bag in. How they can stretch this out over four 2-hour classes is a mystery to me, being that a tote bag is pretty much like a pillowcase, and can be assembled by folding some fabric in half, sewing two seams and hemming the open edge, along with a drawstring to pull it closed. I couldn't make a one-hour class out of that, much less 8 hours, even throwing in the pouch, and charging a hundred dollars for it is astounding to me. It's especially incongruous in the brochure, being right next to another sewing course entitled "Sew a Silk Skirt with Paillettes," which is only one 2-hour class and costs $40, and you end up with a whole skirt that you can actually wear when you're done, unlike the hundred dollar pillowcase from the other course. I have to admit that I was thinking of springing for the $60 and signing up my old friends the dinosaurs for Assertive Communication Skills, but unfortunately, it's hundreds of millions of years too late for them, alas. And as much as I was tempted by their Memoir Writing Class, which I'm sure a hungry world is clamoring for, I'm afraid that I still have so much left to do to get ready for Banana Bread Day, and I just don't have time for anything else.

Elle