Good Golly, Miss Molly
Hello World,
Happy Epiphany! You know that the Christmas season is well on its way into the history books when even the Feast of the Three Kings has come and gone, as indeed it has, since Epiphany was on Thursday. I didn't happen to see any Wise Men on their special day, although I certainly wouldn't expect to at the hospital where I work, which is known far and wide as "the employer of last resort," and for good reason. I do hope that everyone made a determined effort to celebrate the holiday in appropriate style, wearing their specific Epiphany costumes, singing the traditional Epiphany songs, savoring the beloved Epiphany snacks, and of course, playing the age-old Epiphany games like Pin the Tail on the Magi. Ah, those were the good old days indeed. Epiphanopoly, anyone?
On the local scene, I finally went back to work after two weeks off, and while I always enjoy having time off around the holidays, getting back to my office after a lengthy lay-off is always a daunting prospect. The tottering piles of paperwork are bad enough, and there's also dozens of voice mail and email messages to slog through besides. In spite of it all, I try to keep a cool head about me, and realize that as a secretary, my job is only paperwork and not patient care, so no one is going to die as a result of what I do or don't do. There would be no need for my Evil Twin to show up, or to avail myself of that padded room they're holding for me in the Mental Health department, however tempting it may be. There certainly should be no cause for people to run screaming from the sight of me, and while I can understand my co-workers circulating a petition to prevent me from taking off two weeks at a time, frankly I thought the candlelight vigil was just a little too much.
Going back to work a week after the December blizzard was better than trying to drive through it at the time, but only marginally. The stupid little lot where I park was partially cleared, but still very challenging to get in and out of, and treacherous underfoot. The sidewalks were not bad, and for once, they also cleared a path from the sidewalk to the street, so a person could actually get to the pedestrian crosswalk without having to jump through plow tailings at the curb. The employee courtyard is closed to traffic, and looked like a frosty winter scene from a holiday postcard, and in fact, reminded me a lot of that classic Christmas carol "Mistletoe and Holly," where the lyrics say something like:
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oh, by gosh, by golly
It's time for mistletoe and holly
Fancy ties and Granny's pies
And rusted empty hulks of burnt-out temporary boilers covered with snow
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I will say that there's not much that would improve the appearance of two gigantic rusted empty hulks of burnt-out temporary boilers in the courtyard, but the snow made a valiant attempt at it, I'll give it that. And while Bill always says, "It's nothing that can't be fixed with a coat of fire," let's face it, they already tried that once, and here is the result. So I wouldn't recommend to American Greetings that they hurry right over and use this landscape on their new line of Christmas cards, and that's not just a lot of oh by gosh, by golly, believe me.
Also at work, I'm sure the scoffers and nay-sayers will be surprised to hear that I already took down the little tabletop tree and all of the various decorations in our department, from one end to the other, and everything in between. Mind you, this was not the usual wandering Christmas tree scenario, where I roll the tree on its seasonally-decorative bedside cabinet into a spare office down the hallway and then just leave it there still fully decorated, until some hypothetical future date when I would supposedly have more time to deal with it. No, no, this time around I actually took all the decorations off of it, and put them away in their assorted bags and boxes, and put the whole shebang back in the closet, up on the shelves where it all belongs. Plus, I even took the tree back home already, and put it back in the attic, where if the varmints chew on it, they're going to have to answer to a ho-ho-higher authority. And that's also not just a lot of oh by gosh, by golly.
In other seasonal news, some of the family was away for the holidays, so it was just last weekend that we were able to get together for a late Christmas II The Sequel At The Log Cabin, and don't spare the sugar plums and mistletoe-ho-ho. Saturday was a lovely day, and even warmer than it had been, which made ideal conditions for travel and we were glad of it, since we had far to go. We figure that people must have really painted the town red for New Year's Eve, because the next morning, there was absolutely nobody on the roads with us; the entire way, including commercial trucks and tour buses, which are usually out in force on the highways. In fact, when we pulled into a rest area along the way, Bill took a picture of the parking lot, because it was completely empty, which we have never seen in all of our travels upstate, at any hour of the day or night. We were greeted warmly by our hosts and served hot fresh cinnamon buns, plus an assortment of home-made cookies that tasted as good as they looked, and they looked pretty darned good, I can tell you that. Next, we headed to the nearby Ashokan Reservoir to enjoy a stroll on the pedestrian causeway, which we had also done when we were there for Thanksgiving, and at that time, spotted two bald eagles. This time around, the eagles were elsewhere, leaving the field wide open for one of the local hawks instead, and he was keeping a close watch on us to make sure we didn't carry off any of the mice or chipmunks he was considering part of his menu options. Of course, we didn't have to bother snacking on rodents, because when we got back to the cabin, there was lasagna and garlic bread, plus more desserts, including baklava, which Bill made with his very own two hands, in spite of having no Greek heritage anywhere in the family. After stuffing ourselves to the gills, it was time to open presents, including apparel, gourmet treats, and even cat toys that were appreciated by one and all. Of course, we left much later than we had planned, which was too bad because we couldn't pay a visit to Denny's on the way home as we like to do, although they would have had to pump out our stomachs first, after all that lasagna, if we were going to stop and have another meal at Denny's. We arrived home tired but happy, and without incident, and also carrying copious amounts of left-overs, which was the best part of all. So even turning Christmas into a movable feast, there was still plenty of oh by gosh, by golly to make it all worthwhile.
Of course, Friday was New Year's Eve, and we saw the ball drop with Dick Clark as usual, ushering in 2011 in typical fashion, and like just about everyone else, hoping for better days ahead. We didn't have a chance to stay up late after midnight, since we were planning to get an early start in the morning, which I suppose had the advantage that we missed all of the horrible holiday programming that they have for New Year's nowadays, and good riddance. I have no idea what all the rich and famous do for New Year's Eve, because all of the people that they have on television at that time are nothing but boring non-entities that nobody wants to see, or worse, mediocre musical acts doing a bad job of lip-synching to songs that no one wants to hear. As long as we have to watch people we don't know, I can't understand why someone hasn't come up with the idea of the New Year's Eve lingerie contest from Hooters, also featuring the Chippendale dancers, which I figure would have a little bit of something for everyone. Heck, they could run that at midnight in every single time zone for the entire day, and it would just never get old. Why is it that I have to come up with these brainstorms, instead of the network executives who are supposed to develop the brilliant concepts that rescue television from the vast wasteland that it would be otherwise? Oh well, there's always next year, or as it says in the song: "And may all your rusted empty hulks of burnt-out temporary boilers be white."
Elle
Happy Epiphany! You know that the Christmas season is well on its way into the history books when even the Feast of the Three Kings has come and gone, as indeed it has, since Epiphany was on Thursday. I didn't happen to see any Wise Men on their special day, although I certainly wouldn't expect to at the hospital where I work, which is known far and wide as "the employer of last resort," and for good reason. I do hope that everyone made a determined effort to celebrate the holiday in appropriate style, wearing their specific Epiphany costumes, singing the traditional Epiphany songs, savoring the beloved Epiphany snacks, and of course, playing the age-old Epiphany games like Pin the Tail on the Magi. Ah, those were the good old days indeed. Epiphanopoly, anyone?
On the local scene, I finally went back to work after two weeks off, and while I always enjoy having time off around the holidays, getting back to my office after a lengthy lay-off is always a daunting prospect. The tottering piles of paperwork are bad enough, and there's also dozens of voice mail and email messages to slog through besides. In spite of it all, I try to keep a cool head about me, and realize that as a secretary, my job is only paperwork and not patient care, so no one is going to die as a result of what I do or don't do. There would be no need for my Evil Twin to show up, or to avail myself of that padded room they're holding for me in the Mental Health department, however tempting it may be. There certainly should be no cause for people to run screaming from the sight of me, and while I can understand my co-workers circulating a petition to prevent me from taking off two weeks at a time, frankly I thought the candlelight vigil was just a little too much.
Going back to work a week after the December blizzard was better than trying to drive through it at the time, but only marginally. The stupid little lot where I park was partially cleared, but still very challenging to get in and out of, and treacherous underfoot. The sidewalks were not bad, and for once, they also cleared a path from the sidewalk to the street, so a person could actually get to the pedestrian crosswalk without having to jump through plow tailings at the curb. The employee courtyard is closed to traffic, and looked like a frosty winter scene from a holiday postcard, and in fact, reminded me a lot of that classic Christmas carol "Mistletoe and Holly," where the lyrics say something like:
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oh, by gosh, by golly
It's time for mistletoe and holly
Fancy ties and Granny's pies
And rusted empty hulks of burnt-out temporary boilers covered with snow
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I will say that there's not much that would improve the appearance of two gigantic rusted empty hulks of burnt-out temporary boilers in the courtyard, but the snow made a valiant attempt at it, I'll give it that. And while Bill always says, "It's nothing that can't be fixed with a coat of fire," let's face it, they already tried that once, and here is the result. So I wouldn't recommend to American Greetings that they hurry right over and use this landscape on their new line of Christmas cards, and that's not just a lot of oh by gosh, by golly, believe me.
Also at work, I'm sure the scoffers and nay-sayers will be surprised to hear that I already took down the little tabletop tree and all of the various decorations in our department, from one end to the other, and everything in between. Mind you, this was not the usual wandering Christmas tree scenario, where I roll the tree on its seasonally-decorative bedside cabinet into a spare office down the hallway and then just leave it there still fully decorated, until some hypothetical future date when I would supposedly have more time to deal with it. No, no, this time around I actually took all the decorations off of it, and put them away in their assorted bags and boxes, and put the whole shebang back in the closet, up on the shelves where it all belongs. Plus, I even took the tree back home already, and put it back in the attic, where if the varmints chew on it, they're going to have to answer to a ho-ho-higher authority. And that's also not just a lot of oh by gosh, by golly.
In other seasonal news, some of the family was away for the holidays, so it was just last weekend that we were able to get together for a late Christmas II The Sequel At The Log Cabin, and don't spare the sugar plums and mistletoe-ho-ho. Saturday was a lovely day, and even warmer than it had been, which made ideal conditions for travel and we were glad of it, since we had far to go. We figure that people must have really painted the town red for New Year's Eve, because the next morning, there was absolutely nobody on the roads with us; the entire way, including commercial trucks and tour buses, which are usually out in force on the highways. In fact, when we pulled into a rest area along the way, Bill took a picture of the parking lot, because it was completely empty, which we have never seen in all of our travels upstate, at any hour of the day or night. We were greeted warmly by our hosts and served hot fresh cinnamon buns, plus an assortment of home-made cookies that tasted as good as they looked, and they looked pretty darned good, I can tell you that. Next, we headed to the nearby Ashokan Reservoir to enjoy a stroll on the pedestrian causeway, which we had also done when we were there for Thanksgiving, and at that time, spotted two bald eagles. This time around, the eagles were elsewhere, leaving the field wide open for one of the local hawks instead, and he was keeping a close watch on us to make sure we didn't carry off any of the mice or chipmunks he was considering part of his menu options. Of course, we didn't have to bother snacking on rodents, because when we got back to the cabin, there was lasagna and garlic bread, plus more desserts, including baklava, which Bill made with his very own two hands, in spite of having no Greek heritage anywhere in the family. After stuffing ourselves to the gills, it was time to open presents, including apparel, gourmet treats, and even cat toys that were appreciated by one and all. Of course, we left much later than we had planned, which was too bad because we couldn't pay a visit to Denny's on the way home as we like to do, although they would have had to pump out our stomachs first, after all that lasagna, if we were going to stop and have another meal at Denny's. We arrived home tired but happy, and without incident, and also carrying copious amounts of left-overs, which was the best part of all. So even turning Christmas into a movable feast, there was still plenty of oh by gosh, by golly to make it all worthwhile.
Of course, Friday was New Year's Eve, and we saw the ball drop with Dick Clark as usual, ushering in 2011 in typical fashion, and like just about everyone else, hoping for better days ahead. We didn't have a chance to stay up late after midnight, since we were planning to get an early start in the morning, which I suppose had the advantage that we missed all of the horrible holiday programming that they have for New Year's nowadays, and good riddance. I have no idea what all the rich and famous do for New Year's Eve, because all of the people that they have on television at that time are nothing but boring non-entities that nobody wants to see, or worse, mediocre musical acts doing a bad job of lip-synching to songs that no one wants to hear. As long as we have to watch people we don't know, I can't understand why someone hasn't come up with the idea of the New Year's Eve lingerie contest from Hooters, also featuring the Chippendale dancers, which I figure would have a little bit of something for everyone. Heck, they could run that at midnight in every single time zone for the entire day, and it would just never get old. Why is it that I have to come up with these brainstorms, instead of the network executives who are supposed to develop the brilliant concepts that rescue television from the vast wasteland that it would be otherwise? Oh well, there's always next year, or as it says in the song: "And may all your rusted empty hulks of burnt-out temporary boilers be white."
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:32 PM
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