A Mighty Wind
Hello World,
And so here we are at last, hard upon the very last Sunday in Advent, ready or not, and nothing left between us and the jolly old elf himself, except for a few measly days, and after that, all bets are off. For the woefully unprepared among us (and believe me, we know who we are) these last few days will be a mad scramble to the stores at the last minute, and hoping to make gifts out of things like alarm clocks, scented candles, fuel injector cleaner and other items commonly found in supermarkets. This is no time for the faint-hearted, and I can already tell you from experience that wishing it away is also not going to solve any problems at this point. But I will say to those smug over-achievers out there who have long since wrapped up their holiday details to perfection, and way ahead of time, if anyone comes up to you on Christmas morning with a hastily wrapped set of steak knives or tire pressure gauge, please be kind.
In other seasonal news, last Saturday we took a trip to our local VFW to pick out a Christmas tree, as we do every year, and glad to have a beautiful day for the occasion as well. Although I will say that shopping for a tree in the rain, snow, or bitter cold does tend to cut down on the crowds dramatically, as we have found out over the years when we've done exactly that. We didn't really find much to like in the selection this time around, as the larger trees seemed much too overwhelming, and the others seemed too puny or unremarkable. Of course, it can be difficult to tell when they're outside, and we always think the trees are too small, and yet when we finally get one home, we find out that it's just right, and lucky that it fits into our living room without having to cut a lot off of it. That happened once again, where we settled on one with a nice shape, but not tall, and when we put it in the tree stand and stood it up, it just barely had room enough at the top for the angel, and if she had a bouffant hairdo, she never would have made it at all. This tree is not as broad around as many of our gargantuan trees of the past, which turned out to be just as well under the circumstances. Alert readers may recall that we now have so much extra stuff in living room - for instance, my camping supplies and Halloween decorations that I don't dare put back in the attic because of the darned furry varmints chewing on them, thanks not - that if it was any wider, there would not be room to get around it on any side. Bill did his usual heroic job putting all the sparkling lights on it, and now it looks just like a beautiful Christmas card, that is, if your typical Christmas card had camping supplies and Halloween decorations in the background.
Speaking of trees, we had our own early Christmas mini miracle recently, when a nasty storm squall moved through the area, and while it seemed no big deal at the time, it still managed to leave a narrow swath of damage in its wake. Although not on a grand scale, it was still disruptive, with local street flooding, households without electricity, and the odd tree that toppled over here or there. One of the topplers was our neighbors' dogwood, and we were sorry to see it go, as its cheery white blossoms in the spring have been a perennial treat over the years. Dogwoods aren't tall trees, but as close as it was, if it had fallen straight sideways, it would have easily taken out the whole side of our house, and made a heck of a mess in the process. If it had gone the other way, it would have crashed right through our neighbors' verandah, and in almost any other direction, would have collided with the other trees and bushes around it. The miracle was that it somehow managed to tumble over into our driveway, in the only direction where it absolutely missed every single thing it would have hit at any other angle, so that besides itself, the only other casualty of the disaster was the poor ratty spindly fence with all the missing slats. The tree was right next to the fence, so there was no place to go, and it took out a 12-foot section of it, which was no great loss, since most of that section had no slats as it was, and just the rail segments were left to indicate where the fence should have been. Bill came home from work and spotted it while he was backing up the driveway as usual, which was a good thing, because if it had been me, I probably would have driven right into it, not expecting it to be there, even though it was right in front of my face. The neighbors bustled on over and had it all cleaned up in a hurry, and seemed glad for an excuse to buy a new chainsaw for the purpose, which prompted me to trot out that age-old adage, "It's an ill wind that blows no good." Unfortunately, we noticed later that it was that same old ill wind that also blew out one of the windows in our porch downstairs, and took out the poor vintage wind-chimes right along with it, which after many decades of hanging around unmolested indoors, were no match for sudden violent winds that ripped through the empty window pane, and the ill-fated chimes flew apart in every direction. I was able to rescue the frame and a couple of the pieces are still attached, but having nothing to be in direct contact with, what we basically have now is the Marcel Marceau version of wind-chimes, certainly not an improvement over the originals, I can tell you that.
And while we're on the subject of new and improved, Bill discovered that there has been a new version of Sherlock Holmes running on public television, which is set in modern times and is very entertaining. They have taken the original stories by A. Conan Doyle and revised them to reflect modern technology and methods, while still retaining the unique qualities of the characters and their interactions. Purists may scoff, but it's really very inventive and charming in its own quirky way. The narrative never lags, and the tales tend to charge along like a runaway freight train, and at the end of another breathless bumpy ride, you realize once again that this is not your grandfather's Sherlock Holmes. You might be on the lookout for it if you're interested, and it's from our friends at Mantelpiece Theater, who are famous for their high quality productions, although most people know them by a different name. It was probably 40 years ago that PBS asked Michael Palin (of Monty Python fame) to record a fund-raising announcement for their pledge drive, which he did with good grace and patented deadpan humor. He asked for viewer support so that the stations could continue to provide the esteemed programming they were so well known for, such as what he described as: "Sesame Sleep," "The Ascent of Bill Moyers Journal," and "Mantelpiece Theater." These were close enough to the actual titles to sound vaguely plausible, especially with a cultured British accent, but when you think about it, were really pretty funny. I always thought that Mantelpiece Theater was a great name, perhaps better than the real one, and find myself using it more often than not. By the way, can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Sleep?
Also not saying what they mean (one hopes) the new interim pastor at our church recently used the term "falling on my sword" in a sermon, in a way that would have made the language perfectionists run screaming for the exits. He chose it as a bad idiom that he wanted to mean "all screwed up" or "making a mess of things," in the same way you might say "I really blew it" or "I had the chance, but I shot myself in the foot." The dinosaurs and other curmudgeons (who shall remain nameless but look suspiciously like me) didn't sleep right through that, because as far as I'm aware, it doesn't mean that at all. If you look up idioms with our friends at The Free Dictionary online, you'll find that they say it means to accept defeat, and especially in a figurative sense to be willing (or more usually, in the negative sense of being unwilling) to act as a scapegoat and make a show of accepting responsibility for a defeat, often in place of someone more culpable. This sense is routinely used in politics or big business shenanigans, when the usual sports metaphors are simply inadequate. Of course, idioms can be slippery characters and hard to pin down, but I always caution against using them when you're not entirely sure that it conveys the meaning that is called for. Nothing shoots down a comparison faster than a misused idiom, especially when trying to make a point. One of my coworkers would regularly use the term "pushing the envelope" to describe her children getting on her nerves, while another calls on "outside of the box" in the place of "outside of the loop," and yet another just told me that we "had to get all our ducks in a row" when we were putting chairs around a table. Frankly, I was going to call out the Idiom Police before things got completely out of hand, but I just noticed that it's way past my bedtime, and long past the hour that I should be getting to Sesame Sleep.
Elle
And so here we are at last, hard upon the very last Sunday in Advent, ready or not, and nothing left between us and the jolly old elf himself, except for a few measly days, and after that, all bets are off. For the woefully unprepared among us (and believe me, we know who we are) these last few days will be a mad scramble to the stores at the last minute, and hoping to make gifts out of things like alarm clocks, scented candles, fuel injector cleaner and other items commonly found in supermarkets. This is no time for the faint-hearted, and I can already tell you from experience that wishing it away is also not going to solve any problems at this point. But I will say to those smug over-achievers out there who have long since wrapped up their holiday details to perfection, and way ahead of time, if anyone comes up to you on Christmas morning with a hastily wrapped set of steak knives or tire pressure gauge, please be kind.
In other seasonal news, last Saturday we took a trip to our local VFW to pick out a Christmas tree, as we do every year, and glad to have a beautiful day for the occasion as well. Although I will say that shopping for a tree in the rain, snow, or bitter cold does tend to cut down on the crowds dramatically, as we have found out over the years when we've done exactly that. We didn't really find much to like in the selection this time around, as the larger trees seemed much too overwhelming, and the others seemed too puny or unremarkable. Of course, it can be difficult to tell when they're outside, and we always think the trees are too small, and yet when we finally get one home, we find out that it's just right, and lucky that it fits into our living room without having to cut a lot off of it. That happened once again, where we settled on one with a nice shape, but not tall, and when we put it in the tree stand and stood it up, it just barely had room enough at the top for the angel, and if she had a bouffant hairdo, she never would have made it at all. This tree is not as broad around as many of our gargantuan trees of the past, which turned out to be just as well under the circumstances. Alert readers may recall that we now have so much extra stuff in living room - for instance, my camping supplies and Halloween decorations that I don't dare put back in the attic because of the darned furry varmints chewing on them, thanks not - that if it was any wider, there would not be room to get around it on any side. Bill did his usual heroic job putting all the sparkling lights on it, and now it looks just like a beautiful Christmas card, that is, if your typical Christmas card had camping supplies and Halloween decorations in the background.
Speaking of trees, we had our own early Christmas mini miracle recently, when a nasty storm squall moved through the area, and while it seemed no big deal at the time, it still managed to leave a narrow swath of damage in its wake. Although not on a grand scale, it was still disruptive, with local street flooding, households without electricity, and the odd tree that toppled over here or there. One of the topplers was our neighbors' dogwood, and we were sorry to see it go, as its cheery white blossoms in the spring have been a perennial treat over the years. Dogwoods aren't tall trees, but as close as it was, if it had fallen straight sideways, it would have easily taken out the whole side of our house, and made a heck of a mess in the process. If it had gone the other way, it would have crashed right through our neighbors' verandah, and in almost any other direction, would have collided with the other trees and bushes around it. The miracle was that it somehow managed to tumble over into our driveway, in the only direction where it absolutely missed every single thing it would have hit at any other angle, so that besides itself, the only other casualty of the disaster was the poor ratty spindly fence with all the missing slats. The tree was right next to the fence, so there was no place to go, and it took out a 12-foot section of it, which was no great loss, since most of that section had no slats as it was, and just the rail segments were left to indicate where the fence should have been. Bill came home from work and spotted it while he was backing up the driveway as usual, which was a good thing, because if it had been me, I probably would have driven right into it, not expecting it to be there, even though it was right in front of my face. The neighbors bustled on over and had it all cleaned up in a hurry, and seemed glad for an excuse to buy a new chainsaw for the purpose, which prompted me to trot out that age-old adage, "It's an ill wind that blows no good." Unfortunately, we noticed later that it was that same old ill wind that also blew out one of the windows in our porch downstairs, and took out the poor vintage wind-chimes right along with it, which after many decades of hanging around unmolested indoors, were no match for sudden violent winds that ripped through the empty window pane, and the ill-fated chimes flew apart in every direction. I was able to rescue the frame and a couple of the pieces are still attached, but having nothing to be in direct contact with, what we basically have now is the Marcel Marceau version of wind-chimes, certainly not an improvement over the originals, I can tell you that.
And while we're on the subject of new and improved, Bill discovered that there has been a new version of Sherlock Holmes running on public television, which is set in modern times and is very entertaining. They have taken the original stories by A. Conan Doyle and revised them to reflect modern technology and methods, while still retaining the unique qualities of the characters and their interactions. Purists may scoff, but it's really very inventive and charming in its own quirky way. The narrative never lags, and the tales tend to charge along like a runaway freight train, and at the end of another breathless bumpy ride, you realize once again that this is not your grandfather's Sherlock Holmes. You might be on the lookout for it if you're interested, and it's from our friends at Mantelpiece Theater, who are famous for their high quality productions, although most people know them by a different name. It was probably 40 years ago that PBS asked Michael Palin (of Monty Python fame) to record a fund-raising announcement for their pledge drive, which he did with good grace and patented deadpan humor. He asked for viewer support so that the stations could continue to provide the esteemed programming they were so well known for, such as what he described as: "Sesame Sleep," "The Ascent of Bill Moyers Journal," and "Mantelpiece Theater." These were close enough to the actual titles to sound vaguely plausible, especially with a cultured British accent, but when you think about it, were really pretty funny. I always thought that Mantelpiece Theater was a great name, perhaps better than the real one, and find myself using it more often than not. By the way, can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Sleep?
Also not saying what they mean (one hopes) the new interim pastor at our church recently used the term "falling on my sword" in a sermon, in a way that would have made the language perfectionists run screaming for the exits. He chose it as a bad idiom that he wanted to mean "all screwed up" or "making a mess of things," in the same way you might say "I really blew it" or "I had the chance, but I shot myself in the foot." The dinosaurs and other curmudgeons (who shall remain nameless but look suspiciously like me) didn't sleep right through that, because as far as I'm aware, it doesn't mean that at all. If you look up idioms with our friends at The Free Dictionary online, you'll find that they say it means to accept defeat, and especially in a figurative sense to be willing (or more usually, in the negative sense of being unwilling) to act as a scapegoat and make a show of accepting responsibility for a defeat, often in place of someone more culpable. This sense is routinely used in politics or big business shenanigans, when the usual sports metaphors are simply inadequate. Of course, idioms can be slippery characters and hard to pin down, but I always caution against using them when you're not entirely sure that it conveys the meaning that is called for. Nothing shoots down a comparison faster than a misused idiom, especially when trying to make a point. One of my coworkers would regularly use the term "pushing the envelope" to describe her children getting on her nerves, while another calls on "outside of the box" in the place of "outside of the loop," and yet another just told me that we "had to get all our ducks in a row" when we were putting chairs around a table. Frankly, I was going to call out the Idiom Police before things got completely out of hand, but I just noticed that it's way past my bedtime, and long past the hour that I should be getting to Sesame Sleep.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:34 PM
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