Hit The Road
Hello World,
Happy Presidents Day weekend! I hope that you can enjoy a nice long holiday weekend full of all the pomp and circumstance that you could possibly wish for. Of course, relaxing is always at the top of the agenda, but there's plenty more to do out in the wide world, and all you need to do is make an executive decision and jump on that bandwagon, as it were. The holiday sales are out in force, as retailers are eager to wrest those dead presidents out of your wallet - which it goes without saying, would make the President's economic advisers giddy with joy. There's not another 3-day weekend until Memorial Day at the end of May, so you'd better make the best of it while you can, in the most capital manner you know how. Hail to the Chief, anyone?
There's always a lot going on in February, especially for a short month, right from the beginning all the way to the very tail-end, which always seems to come up a lot sooner than anyone expects. Not so fast! This is a Leap Year, so we can all enjoy one whole extra day in this most crowded of months, before March roars in like a lion, leaving all of the groundhogs, cupids, Chinese dragons, and even the tattered Waitangis in its sorry wake. Of course, before March can roar in like a lion, we're going to have to lose about 40 degrees or so, since this has been one of the most unseasonable winters that any of us can ever remember, and at this rate, about the only lion that March will come roaring in as will be The Cowardly Lion from "The Wizard of Oz." Not that I would be one to complain, but I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto.
On the local scene, things were just a little too hectic around the old homestead last week, and something obviously had to give - so unfortunately, it was that jolly old monk, Saint Valentine who got the ol' heave-ho while his feast day went on without him. Later, we had our very own belated mini-Valentine's Day on Wednesday after all the dust had settled, and things worked out a lot better after all the pressure was off. It was just as welcome for all that, and I can tell you that Cupid did not disappoint, with gifts of sweet treats and sparkly baubles in keeping with the spirit of the holiday. There was even a smattering of practical items tossed in for good measure, but everyone knows that I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. After all, that would be a horse of a different color.
Then we just about have time to kick the Presidents to the curb, and suddenly Shrove Tuesday has come crashing down upon our heads, with all of its panoply of pancakes, funny hats, and more shroves than you can shake a stick at, believe me. Outside of the old-fashioned Church Basement Women and their traditional Shrove Tuesday Pancake Suppers, the rest of the world knows the day as Mardi Gras, where it is more famous for parades, parties and excessive indulgence on an epic scale. Our neighbors have a more decorous celebration of the event on the Saturday before the actual Fat Tuesday - or as Bill likes to accurately point out, "Samedi Gras" instead. Meanwhile, the pancakes are hardly cold before the curtain rings down on all the fun, and the specter of Ash Wednesday is looming over us, ushering in the season of Lent in earnest, and no laughing matter, I can assure you. In fact, this is the time to be on the lookout for grouchy Christians who have given up chocolate for Lent, and not a pretty sight by any estimation, especially with store aisles awash with their vast array of chocolate bunnies, malted milk eggs and marshmallow Peeps of every description - not to mention, discount bins chockfull of left-over Valentine candy boxes in all shapes and colors. Why, that's enough to bring the Wicked Witch out in anybody, by golly.
Of course, it's an ill wind that blows no good, and Lent is no exception, so we look for the proverbial silver lining, and hope for better days ahead. At least there is joy in Mudville, as we revel in the three most beautiful words of the English language, that make life worth living even in the darkest days of the dreariest winter - and that is when Pitchers and Catchers report to Spring Training camps all over the South during this upcoming week, and not a moment too soon, I don't mind saying. There is no optimism like these sun-kissed days of green grass and balmy breezes, when hope springs eternal, dreams are born afresh, and the bright shining promise of a new season stretches out before us like a shimmering oasis of potential and success. For teams who made off-season deals, these are times of high expectations, and wondering if this roll of the dice will win all the marbles or not. For those squads that decided to stand pat, they already know what they have and what they need to do, so they face the prospect with eyes wide open and no illusions. On the other hand, when it comes to those franchises like the hapless Mets, well, frankly I'm hoping that they made arrangements for some flying monkeys, or else we could be in for a very long season, my pretty.
Meanwhile at work, I happened to be in the E.R. waiting room, dropping off magazines, when I overheard a young man trying to give directions over the phone to someone who was coming to the hospital to pick him up. It went something like this: "Okay, so you get off the ramp and bear to your left ..... no, that road has no name ..... then you enter the traffic circle ..... no, there's no street sign ..... keep going around until you come out to a four-lane highway ..... no, that road has no name ..... then make a right turn ..... no, there's no street sign ..... and then take the first left ..... no, that road has no name ..... " At this point, the other person must have made some complaint, and one might say, justifiably so, because the young man replied - and I thought, somewhat breezily - "It's not as bad as it sounds, you just keep driving around until you get lost, and that's when you know you're there." Personally, I think that sounds a lot more like The Road to Nowhere, than for instance, the fabled Yellow Brick Road of lore and legend, but hopefully with fewer witches and flying monkeys to watch out for. At least, that's how I see it, or my name isn't -
Auntie Em
Happy Presidents Day weekend! I hope that you can enjoy a nice long holiday weekend full of all the pomp and circumstance that you could possibly wish for. Of course, relaxing is always at the top of the agenda, but there's plenty more to do out in the wide world, and all you need to do is make an executive decision and jump on that bandwagon, as it were. The holiday sales are out in force, as retailers are eager to wrest those dead presidents out of your wallet - which it goes without saying, would make the President's economic advisers giddy with joy. There's not another 3-day weekend until Memorial Day at the end of May, so you'd better make the best of it while you can, in the most capital manner you know how. Hail to the Chief, anyone?
There's always a lot going on in February, especially for a short month, right from the beginning all the way to the very tail-end, which always seems to come up a lot sooner than anyone expects. Not so fast! This is a Leap Year, so we can all enjoy one whole extra day in this most crowded of months, before March roars in like a lion, leaving all of the groundhogs, cupids, Chinese dragons, and even the tattered Waitangis in its sorry wake. Of course, before March can roar in like a lion, we're going to have to lose about 40 degrees or so, since this has been one of the most unseasonable winters that any of us can ever remember, and at this rate, about the only lion that March will come roaring in as will be The Cowardly Lion from "The Wizard of Oz." Not that I would be one to complain, but I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto.
On the local scene, things were just a little too hectic around the old homestead last week, and something obviously had to give - so unfortunately, it was that jolly old monk, Saint Valentine who got the ol' heave-ho while his feast day went on without him. Later, we had our very own belated mini-Valentine's Day on Wednesday after all the dust had settled, and things worked out a lot better after all the pressure was off. It was just as welcome for all that, and I can tell you that Cupid did not disappoint, with gifts of sweet treats and sparkly baubles in keeping with the spirit of the holiday. There was even a smattering of practical items tossed in for good measure, but everyone knows that I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. After all, that would be a horse of a different color.
Then we just about have time to kick the Presidents to the curb, and suddenly Shrove Tuesday has come crashing down upon our heads, with all of its panoply of pancakes, funny hats, and more shroves than you can shake a stick at, believe me. Outside of the old-fashioned Church Basement Women and their traditional Shrove Tuesday Pancake Suppers, the rest of the world knows the day as Mardi Gras, where it is more famous for parades, parties and excessive indulgence on an epic scale. Our neighbors have a more decorous celebration of the event on the Saturday before the actual Fat Tuesday - or as Bill likes to accurately point out, "Samedi Gras" instead. Meanwhile, the pancakes are hardly cold before the curtain rings down on all the fun, and the specter of Ash Wednesday is looming over us, ushering in the season of Lent in earnest, and no laughing matter, I can assure you. In fact, this is the time to be on the lookout for grouchy Christians who have given up chocolate for Lent, and not a pretty sight by any estimation, especially with store aisles awash with their vast array of chocolate bunnies, malted milk eggs and marshmallow Peeps of every description - not to mention, discount bins chockfull of left-over Valentine candy boxes in all shapes and colors. Why, that's enough to bring the Wicked Witch out in anybody, by golly.
Of course, it's an ill wind that blows no good, and Lent is no exception, so we look for the proverbial silver lining, and hope for better days ahead. At least there is joy in Mudville, as we revel in the three most beautiful words of the English language, that make life worth living even in the darkest days of the dreariest winter - and that is when Pitchers and Catchers report to Spring Training camps all over the South during this upcoming week, and not a moment too soon, I don't mind saying. There is no optimism like these sun-kissed days of green grass and balmy breezes, when hope springs eternal, dreams are born afresh, and the bright shining promise of a new season stretches out before us like a shimmering oasis of potential and success. For teams who made off-season deals, these are times of high expectations, and wondering if this roll of the dice will win all the marbles or not. For those squads that decided to stand pat, they already know what they have and what they need to do, so they face the prospect with eyes wide open and no illusions. On the other hand, when it comes to those franchises like the hapless Mets, well, frankly I'm hoping that they made arrangements for some flying monkeys, or else we could be in for a very long season, my pretty.
Meanwhile at work, I happened to be in the E.R. waiting room, dropping off magazines, when I overheard a young man trying to give directions over the phone to someone who was coming to the hospital to pick him up. It went something like this: "Okay, so you get off the ramp and bear to your left ..... no, that road has no name ..... then you enter the traffic circle ..... no, there's no street sign ..... keep going around until you come out to a four-lane highway ..... no, that road has no name ..... then make a right turn ..... no, there's no street sign ..... and then take the first left ..... no, that road has no name ..... " At this point, the other person must have made some complaint, and one might say, justifiably so, because the young man replied - and I thought, somewhat breezily - "It's not as bad as it sounds, you just keep driving around until you get lost, and that's when you know you're there." Personally, I think that sounds a lot more like The Road to Nowhere, than for instance, the fabled Yellow Brick Road of lore and legend, but hopefully with fewer witches and flying monkeys to watch out for. At least, that's how I see it, or my name isn't -
Auntie Em
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 2:13 PM
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