Punch Line
Hello World,
A very (belated) feliz Cinco de Mayo to you, amigos! Thursday was the day for all of us to (virtually) toss off the yoke of oppression and kick the Napoleonic forces to the curb, to the clatter of castanets and plenty of tequila, por favor. I find that native New Yorkers don't need any excuse for a party, and are just as happy to jump on the Cinco de Mayo bandwagon, whereas people of other cultures tend to balk at the idea, using the rationale of "I'm not Mexican" as if it were some sort of a shield that would prevent them from having a good time that they felt they were not entitled to, by accident of where they were born. Heck, I think even the Holiday Police would give everyone leave to be an honorary Mexican on May 5th, so they could enjoy all the hijinks and hoopla the day has to offer. Not so fast! While you would think that a holiday named after a specific day would be the last thing in the world to be a movable feast, the reality is very far from the case. Our local newspaper made a point to encourage us to check out their online calendar for Cinco de Mayo events all over their coverage area, beginning on May 6 and continuing throughout the weekend. To my mind, that's a Mexican horse of a different Mariachi color, by golly, and would have surprised the heck out of Napoleon's army, who sat around and waited for two or three days just to get routed at the Battle of the Puebla that was supposed to happen on the 5th of May. Under the circumstances, probably even the Holiday Police would have to side with the beleaguered French on that one, La Cucaracha or not.
On the local weather scene, this turned out to be the week that the indigenous maple trees exploded into bloom, transforming everything near them to bright green, and not any sort of an improvement, I can tell you that. Every year around this time, I find myself driving what can only be described as an unsightly green fuzz-mobile, where I can't see out any of the windows for all of the maple tree effluvia that's stuck to it. Well, it only took my entire life, but I can now say that I finally wised up, and when I came home, I parked the car away from where the street was already green, into the clear area that was apparently out of the maple zone, so I wouldn't come out to more of that stuck on the car the next day, thanks not. Also the parking lot at work is fringed with alternating pine and maple trees, so you notice that every other space is bright green, and it finally dawned on me to park in the one that isn't, and avoid even more of that being stuck to the car during the day as well. So it was actually a simple thing to solve that entire problem at a stroke, and just goes to prove, I guess, that you can teach an old dog new tricks, although frankly I don't think they should let dogs drive in the first place.
I don't know about anyone else, but it seems to me that the 137th running of the fabled Kentucky Derby snuck up on us, sort of out of nowhere with little or no fanfare, being this weekend already. There were so many horses entered that they had to eliminate two of them from the field, since apparently they don't have a "track stretcher" at Churchill Downs so they accommodate more than 20 horses at a time. As it is, they're going to be running without the favorite, a horse named Keb Mo (or something like that anyway) who had been tearing up the tracks up to this point, but fell ill just before his big moment in the spotlight. This would be a good break for the second favorite, one supposes, and of course, we can't rule out the 20-1 shot, Twice the Appeal, with media darling Calvin Borel aboard. Personally, my money's on the Knicks, with the Rangers coming in a close second, and I wouldn't turn my back on the Pittsburgh Steelers either. After all, the thoroughbreds are only used to running against other horses, they have had no experience competing with Amar'e Stoudemire's lethal elbows, by golly.
After the hospital developed new rules for the use of time clocks, I found it helpful to have an alarm in my Palm set at 9:00 AM to "punch in," and another one at 5:00 PM to "punch out." Somehow when I was using the stylus to enter the information for the alarms, I accidentally typed in "jn" instead of "in," and the same error was duplicated for all of the alarms for the whole month. The consultant who has been taking up space in our spare office all year has the initials "JN," and I don't mind saying, has long since worn out his welcome, and in spades, so every morning when the alarm goes off and reminds me to "Punch jn," I can't help but think that sounds like a pretty good idea. Although when it comes to people to be punched, I have to admit that I don't need an alarm to give me any ideas, because I already have a list.
Speaking of work, between taking off Good Friday, and the Monday after Easter, it turned into two short weeks in a row for me, and trying to catch up after that was no joke, believe me. Everyone knows that I always say that it's the short weeks that are the longest, and this no exception, with one right after the other besides. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the Secretary's Day luncheon on the Wednesday after Easter, which punched another hole in my day, in what was already a short week as it was, so I despaired of ever getting back on track. Mind you, I certainly don't want to complain, since we're lucky just to be invited to the luncheon in this economy, and it's great to go to a lovely country club, where we can have lots of fun and goodie bags, plus the usual raffle prizes. Of course, there were the requisite boring speeches by local dignitaries, as well as awards, plaques and commendations to be presented to deserving individuals and organizations, but it helps that all of this is offset by a nice meal including ice cream and coffee, which this time around, was served in peppy style with no lagging, unlike usually, when half the people give up and leave before they finally get around to serving dessert. And while I didn't win anything as usual, at least I didn't jinx the whole table, as they won some nice prizes from local merchants, and glad of it, I'm sure. So it turned out to be another wonderful luncheon, and beautiful weather, which only goes to prove that even the weather trolls don't dare rain on the secretaries.
Alert readers may remember that it was in March that we bid a fond farewell to our beloved princess GingerSnap after 13 years in the family, which had the result that we were left with only the little invisible Potfourri as our last remaining female in a houseful of tom cats. At the time, I remarked that she was going to have some pretty big shoes to fill, because GingerSnap was a very special cat in many ways, apart from just longevity. Unfortunately, it turned out that our little Miss Potfourri, her own invisible self, was not equal to the task, as she breathed her last on Wednesday, not even seven weeks since GingerSnap preceded her. That closes the chapter on the whole invisible clan, as she was the last of the five of them, and they all went one after another in a space of two years. So we find ourselves down to the ragtag remnant, and all of them boys, and nothing cute or frilly about the lot of them. But at least they have the advantage that there is nothing invisible about them either, which is a nice change of pace, except for when they have to run in between my feet on the stairs, when a little bit of invisibility might not be such a bad thing, after all. I suppose I should be grateful that they don't have Amar'e Stoudemire's lethal elbows, and they don't turn everything bright green like the maple trees, on top of their other less appealing characteristics. Now this is normally where I'd like to get a jump on things and wish everyone a very early happy Ocho de Mayo (if only there was such a thing) but my alarm just went off and I have to go punch the consultant.
Elle
A very (belated) feliz Cinco de Mayo to you, amigos! Thursday was the day for all of us to (virtually) toss off the yoke of oppression and kick the Napoleonic forces to the curb, to the clatter of castanets and plenty of tequila, por favor. I find that native New Yorkers don't need any excuse for a party, and are just as happy to jump on the Cinco de Mayo bandwagon, whereas people of other cultures tend to balk at the idea, using the rationale of "I'm not Mexican" as if it were some sort of a shield that would prevent them from having a good time that they felt they were not entitled to, by accident of where they were born. Heck, I think even the Holiday Police would give everyone leave to be an honorary Mexican on May 5th, so they could enjoy all the hijinks and hoopla the day has to offer. Not so fast! While you would think that a holiday named after a specific day would be the last thing in the world to be a movable feast, the reality is very far from the case. Our local newspaper made a point to encourage us to check out their online calendar for Cinco de Mayo events all over their coverage area, beginning on May 6 and continuing throughout the weekend. To my mind, that's a Mexican horse of a different Mariachi color, by golly, and would have surprised the heck out of Napoleon's army, who sat around and waited for two or three days just to get routed at the Battle of the Puebla that was supposed to happen on the 5th of May. Under the circumstances, probably even the Holiday Police would have to side with the beleaguered French on that one, La Cucaracha or not.
On the local weather scene, this turned out to be the week that the indigenous maple trees exploded into bloom, transforming everything near them to bright green, and not any sort of an improvement, I can tell you that. Every year around this time, I find myself driving what can only be described as an unsightly green fuzz-mobile, where I can't see out any of the windows for all of the maple tree effluvia that's stuck to it. Well, it only took my entire life, but I can now say that I finally wised up, and when I came home, I parked the car away from where the street was already green, into the clear area that was apparently out of the maple zone, so I wouldn't come out to more of that stuck on the car the next day, thanks not. Also the parking lot at work is fringed with alternating pine and maple trees, so you notice that every other space is bright green, and it finally dawned on me to park in the one that isn't, and avoid even more of that being stuck to the car during the day as well. So it was actually a simple thing to solve that entire problem at a stroke, and just goes to prove, I guess, that you can teach an old dog new tricks, although frankly I don't think they should let dogs drive in the first place.
I don't know about anyone else, but it seems to me that the 137th running of the fabled Kentucky Derby snuck up on us, sort of out of nowhere with little or no fanfare, being this weekend already. There were so many horses entered that they had to eliminate two of them from the field, since apparently they don't have a "track stretcher" at Churchill Downs so they accommodate more than 20 horses at a time. As it is, they're going to be running without the favorite, a horse named Keb Mo (or something like that anyway) who had been tearing up the tracks up to this point, but fell ill just before his big moment in the spotlight. This would be a good break for the second favorite, one supposes, and of course, we can't rule out the 20-1 shot, Twice the Appeal, with media darling Calvin Borel aboard. Personally, my money's on the Knicks, with the Rangers coming in a close second, and I wouldn't turn my back on the Pittsburgh Steelers either. After all, the thoroughbreds are only used to running against other horses, they have had no experience competing with Amar'e Stoudemire's lethal elbows, by golly.
After the hospital developed new rules for the use of time clocks, I found it helpful to have an alarm in my Palm set at 9:00 AM to "punch in," and another one at 5:00 PM to "punch out." Somehow when I was using the stylus to enter the information for the alarms, I accidentally typed in "jn" instead of "in," and the same error was duplicated for all of the alarms for the whole month. The consultant who has been taking up space in our spare office all year has the initials "JN," and I don't mind saying, has long since worn out his welcome, and in spades, so every morning when the alarm goes off and reminds me to "Punch jn," I can't help but think that sounds like a pretty good idea. Although when it comes to people to be punched, I have to admit that I don't need an alarm to give me any ideas, because I already have a list.
Speaking of work, between taking off Good Friday, and the Monday after Easter, it turned into two short weeks in a row for me, and trying to catch up after that was no joke, believe me. Everyone knows that I always say that it's the short weeks that are the longest, and this no exception, with one right after the other besides. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the Secretary's Day luncheon on the Wednesday after Easter, which punched another hole in my day, in what was already a short week as it was, so I despaired of ever getting back on track. Mind you, I certainly don't want to complain, since we're lucky just to be invited to the luncheon in this economy, and it's great to go to a lovely country club, where we can have lots of fun and goodie bags, plus the usual raffle prizes. Of course, there were the requisite boring speeches by local dignitaries, as well as awards, plaques and commendations to be presented to deserving individuals and organizations, but it helps that all of this is offset by a nice meal including ice cream and coffee, which this time around, was served in peppy style with no lagging, unlike usually, when half the people give up and leave before they finally get around to serving dessert. And while I didn't win anything as usual, at least I didn't jinx the whole table, as they won some nice prizes from local merchants, and glad of it, I'm sure. So it turned out to be another wonderful luncheon, and beautiful weather, which only goes to prove that even the weather trolls don't dare rain on the secretaries.
Alert readers may remember that it was in March that we bid a fond farewell to our beloved princess GingerSnap after 13 years in the family, which had the result that we were left with only the little invisible Potfourri as our last remaining female in a houseful of tom cats. At the time, I remarked that she was going to have some pretty big shoes to fill, because GingerSnap was a very special cat in many ways, apart from just longevity. Unfortunately, it turned out that our little Miss Potfourri, her own invisible self, was not equal to the task, as she breathed her last on Wednesday, not even seven weeks since GingerSnap preceded her. That closes the chapter on the whole invisible clan, as she was the last of the five of them, and they all went one after another in a space of two years. So we find ourselves down to the ragtag remnant, and all of them boys, and nothing cute or frilly about the lot of them. But at least they have the advantage that there is nothing invisible about them either, which is a nice change of pace, except for when they have to run in between my feet on the stairs, when a little bit of invisibility might not be such a bad thing, after all. I suppose I should be grateful that they don't have Amar'e Stoudemire's lethal elbows, and they don't turn everything bright green like the maple trees, on top of their other less appealing characteristics. Now this is normally where I'd like to get a jump on things and wish everyone a very early happy Ocho de Mayo (if only there was such a thing) but my alarm just went off and I have to go punch the consultant.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 10:09 PM
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