Hand In Glove
Hello World,
Happy June! Like a breath of fresh air, it's a pleasure to welcome in this special month, full of events and occasions that will be remembered for a lifetime, not to mention, beloved by poets for centuries, and for good reason. I've always thought it was very convenient that there were so many words that rhyme with June - moon, croon, spoon, tune, noon, swoon, dune, loon, soon, prune - but I realize now that if these words didn't exist, someone would have to invent them, for all the songs and poems that were to come. It's just a lucky thing that all the proms and weddings and graduations and reunions don't happen in April, or even worse in October, or all of those poets and songwriters would be up a lagoon without a spittoon, and not a balloon or saloon to help them, until they were maroon in the buffoon, like a rough-hewn tycoon. And that's not just the macaroons talking, believe me.
While it is hard to believe that it's already June, the year hasn't completely gotten away from us yet, and in fact, on Monday it was still May. There are some schools upstate that are still having classes, to make up for a lot of snow days over the winter, and won't be finished for another few weeks yet. We're still weeks away from the summer solstice, and let's face it, the basketball and hockey playoffs are still going on, as impossible as that might seem to believe. So you can imagine my chagrin - and under the circumstances I might say that "outrage" would not be too strong a word - when I received not one, but two catalogues in the mail with products for Christmas, of all things. The first one was from Hal Leonard, the music publishers, and their New Music for Ministry Fall & Christmas 2010, which promises Something For Every Church! I was prepared to let them slide, even with the snowflakes on the cover, because I was thinking that they realize that church musicians and choirs would probably need extra time to get ready, if they're going to have to learn and rehearse new music for the holidays. But it was the very next day that I got Tapscott's Autumn and Holiday 2010 catalogue, and our friends at Tapscott sell artificial flowers (which they describe as "permanent" rather than "fake") and decorative floral products, so they have no reason that they need to be selling them this early in the year, as if you have to assemble them yourself, or they grow them to order or something. Believe me, I understand all about the insidiously pervasive "season creep," and there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, but I simply cannot condone this kind of conspicuously premature consumption run amok, and I am unanimous in that, by golly.
Speaking of time, I'm beginning to realize that this is more of a slippery character than I had supposed, and requires more vigilance in trying to maintain the pinpoint accuracy that we might be aiming for. Alert readers may recall my ancient steam-powered computer at work running Windows 2000NT, where it would reset the system time to account for Daylight Saving, but only three weeks before or after the fact, since the government changed the dates of DST long after the software had been developed. When I got another computer at work, plus the spare computer that I was using in the interim, I rejoiced that I finally had computers that would keep the right time and date, and not lag behind, or charge ahead, of the rest of humanity twice a year, until the DST switch-over actually took effect. I realized that I spoke too soon, when I got my used computer from California, which was set to Pacific time, and even after I reset that, it was still the wrong time and had to be reset manually. That should have been the end of it, and I could once again go back to rejoicing in having the right time and date on all of my computers. Alas, one more time, I spoke too soon, because on Thursday at work, I was sending out a bunch of form letters that had been merged with an address list that included the current date, and I was more surprised than anyone to see that all of the letters assured me that on Thursday, it was Friday, June 4, 2010. (It wasn't.) So once again, I went into the system settings on my used computer, and reset the date to match up with the rest of humanity on the East coast, and once again, thanks so very much not. I happen to love my new little used computer, but it certainly does make me wonder what kind of stuff they were smoking out there in that specialty shop where they were selling them, that's for sure.
The previous week, of course, was Memorial Day weekend, and my sister's 38th annual barbecue at the log cabin in New Paltz, which is attended by hundreds of their closest friends from around the world, as well as some of the nearer galaxies. I was glad to go once again, and brought my other sister along with me, which was just as well, since there was a wide-ranging local detour for road construction, and unlike me, my sister has the kind of unerring navigational abilities that early explorers could only regard with wonder and envy. The highways were remarkably uncluttered for a holiday weekend, and the weather was cooperative throughout, even in Indianapolis, where it usually seems to rain on the Indy 500 every year, which should probably tell the race's promoters exactly what our old nemesis Comrade Mischka thinks of the whole idea of people driving around in circles for hours. This year, the comrade and his infernal weather machine weren't a factor at The Brickyard, so the drivers didn't have to slow down for safety in dangerous conditions, although conversely, perhaps it was the very lack of bad weather that contributed to the smattering of accidents, which in turn forced the track officials to lower the speed limit anyway. Back at the barbecue, a good time was had by all, and we were happy to see old friends from far and wide, although I admit that I thought things got a little out of hand when the Klingons and Vulcans all showed up at the same time, which you would think would be impossible, with intergalactic space travel the way it is these days, heaven knows.
Back on the home front, the Flag Brigade did an admirable job running up the colors, both upstairs and downstairs on Sunday and Monday, and even more astonishing, remembering to take the flags back in again after dinner on both days, which is not something to be taken for granted, not by any means, and I ought to know. On Monday, I was outside much of the day, feeding the birds and doing yard work, and found myself being serenaded by an extensive outdoor concert for Memorial Day at the nearby Hudson Park band shell, which included a widely diverse offering of performances from oldies to salsa, from swing to marches, from disco to jazz, and even Elvis impersonators, which may not have been the very last thing I would have expected, but it was pretty close to it. The program went on a lot longer than I expected, and it offered an entertaining backdrop to my landscaping endeavors that is usually sorely lacking, so I was glad to be outside and have a chance to enjoy the local talent strutting their stuff, sort of like a community radio station without any commercials. At around 4:00 PM, they wound up with a rousing version of God Bless America that shook the rafters from half a mile away, and that was without the Klingons and Vulcans showing up, mind you.
In other local news, the new month was only hours old when we discovered that another one of our Invisible Cats had slipped away from us, this time Puffin, the orange tabby who tried his best to be a real cat, and overcome his invisible roots, with mixed results. He was the fourth of his family that we lost in a 14-month span, leaving us with only the little calico, Potfourri, to carry on the Invisible tradition, which I have every confidence that she is prepared to do, although it's a little hard to tell, since we never see her. Also sneaking up on us in unheralded fashion, the estimable Belmont Stakes will be this weekend, which this time around, is getting about as much media attention as the hockey playoffs, and considerably less than the recent national spelling bee competition. Without a potential Triple Crown in the offing, no one seems to care what the outcome might be, and none of the horses or jockeys have really caught the public's fancy, like Secretariat or Seattle Slew, or even Sarah Jessica Parker, although she's more of a clothes horse than an actual thoroughbred, or so I've been told.
Speaking of clothes, I recently got a pair of nice new garden gloves, which were a late birthday present, so they showed up last month, rather than in March, when my birthday is. They seemed like fine sensible gloves, and I'm always glad to get garden gloves, which I use a lot. At least, they called themselves garden gloves, but I found out later that could only be accepted in the very loosest interpretation of the term, and only very nominally at that. Which is to say, that a person could certainly wear these gloves to their local garden club, and look fashionable having tea and finger sandwiches on the verandah, and perhaps strolling about the grounds, without actually touching anything botanical, and I'm sure they would be perfectly adequate for the purpose. Silly me, I tried wearing them to actually do gardening with, and I only used them three times, and they completely fell apart, which I don't mind saying, is my idea of garden gloves for sissies and not to be taken seriously, thanks so very much not. Fortunately, I found another pair of garden gloves in this catalogue that I just received, so I can order them myself and be all set for a whole summer full of yard work and outdoor chores of all descriptions. I just can't decide if I want the ones with the jingle bells, holly wreaths, snowmen or candy canes.
Elle
Happy June! Like a breath of fresh air, it's a pleasure to welcome in this special month, full of events and occasions that will be remembered for a lifetime, not to mention, beloved by poets for centuries, and for good reason. I've always thought it was very convenient that there were so many words that rhyme with June - moon, croon, spoon, tune, noon, swoon, dune, loon, soon, prune - but I realize now that if these words didn't exist, someone would have to invent them, for all the songs and poems that were to come. It's just a lucky thing that all the proms and weddings and graduations and reunions don't happen in April, or even worse in October, or all of those poets and songwriters would be up a lagoon without a spittoon, and not a balloon or saloon to help them, until they were maroon in the buffoon, like a rough-hewn tycoon. And that's not just the macaroons talking, believe me.
While it is hard to believe that it's already June, the year hasn't completely gotten away from us yet, and in fact, on Monday it was still May. There are some schools upstate that are still having classes, to make up for a lot of snow days over the winter, and won't be finished for another few weeks yet. We're still weeks away from the summer solstice, and let's face it, the basketball and hockey playoffs are still going on, as impossible as that might seem to believe. So you can imagine my chagrin - and under the circumstances I might say that "outrage" would not be too strong a word - when I received not one, but two catalogues in the mail with products for Christmas, of all things. The first one was from Hal Leonard, the music publishers, and their New Music for Ministry Fall & Christmas 2010, which promises Something For Every Church! I was prepared to let them slide, even with the snowflakes on the cover, because I was thinking that they realize that church musicians and choirs would probably need extra time to get ready, if they're going to have to learn and rehearse new music for the holidays. But it was the very next day that I got Tapscott's Autumn and Holiday 2010 catalogue, and our friends at Tapscott sell artificial flowers (which they describe as "permanent" rather than "fake") and decorative floral products, so they have no reason that they need to be selling them this early in the year, as if you have to assemble them yourself, or they grow them to order or something. Believe me, I understand all about the insidiously pervasive "season creep," and there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, but I simply cannot condone this kind of conspicuously premature consumption run amok, and I am unanimous in that, by golly.
Speaking of time, I'm beginning to realize that this is more of a slippery character than I had supposed, and requires more vigilance in trying to maintain the pinpoint accuracy that we might be aiming for. Alert readers may recall my ancient steam-powered computer at work running Windows 2000NT, where it would reset the system time to account for Daylight Saving, but only three weeks before or after the fact, since the government changed the dates of DST long after the software had been developed. When I got another computer at work, plus the spare computer that I was using in the interim, I rejoiced that I finally had computers that would keep the right time and date, and not lag behind, or charge ahead, of the rest of humanity twice a year, until the DST switch-over actually took effect. I realized that I spoke too soon, when I got my used computer from California, which was set to Pacific time, and even after I reset that, it was still the wrong time and had to be reset manually. That should have been the end of it, and I could once again go back to rejoicing in having the right time and date on all of my computers. Alas, one more time, I spoke too soon, because on Thursday at work, I was sending out a bunch of form letters that had been merged with an address list that included the current date, and I was more surprised than anyone to see that all of the letters assured me that on Thursday, it was Friday, June 4, 2010. (It wasn't.) So once again, I went into the system settings on my used computer, and reset the date to match up with the rest of humanity on the East coast, and once again, thanks so very much not. I happen to love my new little used computer, but it certainly does make me wonder what kind of stuff they were smoking out there in that specialty shop where they were selling them, that's for sure.
The previous week, of course, was Memorial Day weekend, and my sister's 38th annual barbecue at the log cabin in New Paltz, which is attended by hundreds of their closest friends from around the world, as well as some of the nearer galaxies. I was glad to go once again, and brought my other sister along with me, which was just as well, since there was a wide-ranging local detour for road construction, and unlike me, my sister has the kind of unerring navigational abilities that early explorers could only regard with wonder and envy. The highways were remarkably uncluttered for a holiday weekend, and the weather was cooperative throughout, even in Indianapolis, where it usually seems to rain on the Indy 500 every year, which should probably tell the race's promoters exactly what our old nemesis Comrade Mischka thinks of the whole idea of people driving around in circles for hours. This year, the comrade and his infernal weather machine weren't a factor at The Brickyard, so the drivers didn't have to slow down for safety in dangerous conditions, although conversely, perhaps it was the very lack of bad weather that contributed to the smattering of accidents, which in turn forced the track officials to lower the speed limit anyway. Back at the barbecue, a good time was had by all, and we were happy to see old friends from far and wide, although I admit that I thought things got a little out of hand when the Klingons and Vulcans all showed up at the same time, which you would think would be impossible, with intergalactic space travel the way it is these days, heaven knows.
Back on the home front, the Flag Brigade did an admirable job running up the colors, both upstairs and downstairs on Sunday and Monday, and even more astonishing, remembering to take the flags back in again after dinner on both days, which is not something to be taken for granted, not by any means, and I ought to know. On Monday, I was outside much of the day, feeding the birds and doing yard work, and found myself being serenaded by an extensive outdoor concert for Memorial Day at the nearby Hudson Park band shell, which included a widely diverse offering of performances from oldies to salsa, from swing to marches, from disco to jazz, and even Elvis impersonators, which may not have been the very last thing I would have expected, but it was pretty close to it. The program went on a lot longer than I expected, and it offered an entertaining backdrop to my landscaping endeavors that is usually sorely lacking, so I was glad to be outside and have a chance to enjoy the local talent strutting their stuff, sort of like a community radio station without any commercials. At around 4:00 PM, they wound up with a rousing version of God Bless America that shook the rafters from half a mile away, and that was without the Klingons and Vulcans showing up, mind you.
In other local news, the new month was only hours old when we discovered that another one of our Invisible Cats had slipped away from us, this time Puffin, the orange tabby who tried his best to be a real cat, and overcome his invisible roots, with mixed results. He was the fourth of his family that we lost in a 14-month span, leaving us with only the little calico, Potfourri, to carry on the Invisible tradition, which I have every confidence that she is prepared to do, although it's a little hard to tell, since we never see her. Also sneaking up on us in unheralded fashion, the estimable Belmont Stakes will be this weekend, which this time around, is getting about as much media attention as the hockey playoffs, and considerably less than the recent national spelling bee competition. Without a potential Triple Crown in the offing, no one seems to care what the outcome might be, and none of the horses or jockeys have really caught the public's fancy, like Secretariat or Seattle Slew, or even Sarah Jessica Parker, although she's more of a clothes horse than an actual thoroughbred, or so I've been told.
Speaking of clothes, I recently got a pair of nice new garden gloves, which were a late birthday present, so they showed up last month, rather than in March, when my birthday is. They seemed like fine sensible gloves, and I'm always glad to get garden gloves, which I use a lot. At least, they called themselves garden gloves, but I found out later that could only be accepted in the very loosest interpretation of the term, and only very nominally at that. Which is to say, that a person could certainly wear these gloves to their local garden club, and look fashionable having tea and finger sandwiches on the verandah, and perhaps strolling about the grounds, without actually touching anything botanical, and I'm sure they would be perfectly adequate for the purpose. Silly me, I tried wearing them to actually do gardening with, and I only used them three times, and they completely fell apart, which I don't mind saying, is my idea of garden gloves for sissies and not to be taken seriously, thanks so very much not. Fortunately, I found another pair of garden gloves in this catalogue that I just received, so I can order them myself and be all set for a whole summer full of yard work and outdoor chores of all descriptions. I just can't decide if I want the ones with the jingle bells, holly wreaths, snowmen or candy canes.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:38 PM
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