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
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
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:04 PM
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