The Bad Seed
Hello World,
Well, I don't know about where you are, but here in the metro New York area, the ridiculous winter weather has continued apace, and no end in sight, as far as the eye can see - not to mention, the Doppler weather radar, working double overtime. I wouldn't be surprised if it reached 75 degrees last Monday, and what the ski resorts and snow plow drivers are losing in seasonal income, the ice cream trucks are making up for it, believe me. I can tell you that I've seen some unseasonable winters in my time, but I don't ever remember anything like this, or even close to this - and in fact, they say that it's been setting new records every day, since they started keeping track of this stuff over a hundred years ago, and that's saying something. The crocus popped open in February, and the jonquils last week (both of which were much too early) and earlier this week, everything else in the yard was tripping over each other to see who could open up soonest. There were hyacinths by the porch and star flowers by the sidewalk. More jonquils bobbed up, and bunches of daffodils in earnest all over the yard. White anemone fringed the driveway, like tiny bright daisies, and even the wind flowers broke forth under the sycamore in lavender profusion everywhere. It certainly has been one for the record books, and while I hate to complain about great weather, I can't help but wonder what our old nemesis Comrade Mischka has up his infernal sleeve after all this, nyet?
It was my birthday on Sunday, and a lovely day for it, I don't mind saying. Bill and the cats did their usual admirable job on the gifts front, and apart from some very welcome entertainment and apparel items, there was also a very beautiful ring and some lovely earrings as well. Top that off with breakfast in bed, and frankly, I don't know any way to improve upon a day like that, by golly. As a birthday present to myself, I also took off Monday from work, and glad of it, which was another wonderful and relaxing day, and it goes without saying, way better than being at work, that's for sure. Of course, I must admit that it turned into one of those very long short weeks at work after that, but it was worth it at the time, I can tell you that.
Bill thought it was especially egregious that the nefarious government trolls picked my birthday for this season's switch-over to Daylight Saving Time, and I couldn't agree with him more - and I don't mind saying that I am unanimous in that. We weathered the missing hour that was snatched away from us in fair shape, although it must be said that it took more than a week for all of the various clocks and other timekeepers to get reset, such as the thermostat, timers, answering machine, car stereo and the like. It's even worse at work, where beside the wall clocks, we have the date stamp, copier, fax machine and microwave that all have to be changed. Of course, I forgot the alarms in my Palm that remind me to punch in and out on time, so that didn't happen, and thanks so very much not. And adding insult to injury, it's the worst of both worlds with the Palm, because it's still programmed for the old schedule of DST, so it doesn't automatically switch-over to the new time when the rest of humanity does it, and has to be reset manually - but then, three weeks later, it very unhelpfully DOES automatically switch-over when it thinks DST used to be, so once again, the time has to be reset manually all over again. For someone who's no fan of DST to start with, having to go through this hullabaloo four times in a year with my Palm alarms is a bitter pill to swallow, and probably the best that can be said about it is that the rest of the world should be very glad that I didn't also give up chocolate for Lent, by golly.
Of course, Saturday is the feast day for Ireland's patron saint, the venerable St. Patrick his very own self, and if that's not a perfectly good excuse for green beer, well then, I just don't know what is, begorra. Things seem to have settled down on the parade front since former times, when every mention of the event brought riots, lawsuits and angry speeches at full volume from screamers of every stripe across the controversy. I guess now that they let them get married in this state, the gay people have better things to do than fight over marching in some silly parade, wearing skirts and goofy hats, and they've turned that over, back where it belongs, to the Shriners. I'm kidding of course, it's the presidential candidates in the skirts and goofy hats, because we all know that they will do anything for votes, and unfortunately, the parade organizers can't even file a lawsuit to stop them, because apparently it's not against the law to run for president in this country, regardless of how incompetent or unqualified a person might be, believe it or not. That sound you hear (above the bagpipes) is the aggrieved Founding Fathers spinning in their collective graves, and that's not just a lot of corned beef and cabbage, believe me.
Speaking of The Emerald Isle, I couldn't help but notice this arresting review in the TV Best Bets, about the NBC series "Who Do You Think You Are?" -
===================
Acclaimed actor Martin Sheen delves
into the history books to discover his
family's long-seeded history of activism
in Ireland and Spain.
===================
Obviously, the spell-checker is not going to help you with that, and for all I know, "long-seeded" might be a perfectly legitimate expression that means something appropriate to the context, but you couldn't prove it by me. I can't help but think that's not what they mean at all, and the only comparable phrase that springs to mind is "deep-seated" instead - but for heaven's sake, you have to go pretty far and wide to come up with "long-seeded" when what you really mean is "deep-seated" instead, I must say. That would be sort of like referring to someone as a "fine whether friend" rather than a "fair weather friend," or going the distance with the "hole in nine cards" instead of the "whole nine yards" as it should be. I realize there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, but when words have lost all of their meaning, well, it's no wonder that they let just anyone run for President these days, and more's the pity, I'm sure. I suppose I may as well just go out in my skirt and goofy hat and head for the parade with the rest of the carousers, because you know what they say, "If you can't bleat them, joy in them" - or at least, that's what the horoscope computer would have said, if it hadn't already shorted out from too much green beer, and that's not just the long seeds talking, believe me.
Elle
Well, I don't know about where you are, but here in the metro New York area, the ridiculous winter weather has continued apace, and no end in sight, as far as the eye can see - not to mention, the Doppler weather radar, working double overtime. I wouldn't be surprised if it reached 75 degrees last Monday, and what the ski resorts and snow plow drivers are losing in seasonal income, the ice cream trucks are making up for it, believe me. I can tell you that I've seen some unseasonable winters in my time, but I don't ever remember anything like this, or even close to this - and in fact, they say that it's been setting new records every day, since they started keeping track of this stuff over a hundred years ago, and that's saying something. The crocus popped open in February, and the jonquils last week (both of which were much too early) and earlier this week, everything else in the yard was tripping over each other to see who could open up soonest. There were hyacinths by the porch and star flowers by the sidewalk. More jonquils bobbed up, and bunches of daffodils in earnest all over the yard. White anemone fringed the driveway, like tiny bright daisies, and even the wind flowers broke forth under the sycamore in lavender profusion everywhere. It certainly has been one for the record books, and while I hate to complain about great weather, I can't help but wonder what our old nemesis Comrade Mischka has up his infernal sleeve after all this, nyet?
It was my birthday on Sunday, and a lovely day for it, I don't mind saying. Bill and the cats did their usual admirable job on the gifts front, and apart from some very welcome entertainment and apparel items, there was also a very beautiful ring and some lovely earrings as well. Top that off with breakfast in bed, and frankly, I don't know any way to improve upon a day like that, by golly. As a birthday present to myself, I also took off Monday from work, and glad of it, which was another wonderful and relaxing day, and it goes without saying, way better than being at work, that's for sure. Of course, I must admit that it turned into one of those very long short weeks at work after that, but it was worth it at the time, I can tell you that.
Bill thought it was especially egregious that the nefarious government trolls picked my birthday for this season's switch-over to Daylight Saving Time, and I couldn't agree with him more - and I don't mind saying that I am unanimous in that. We weathered the missing hour that was snatched away from us in fair shape, although it must be said that it took more than a week for all of the various clocks and other timekeepers to get reset, such as the thermostat, timers, answering machine, car stereo and the like. It's even worse at work, where beside the wall clocks, we have the date stamp, copier, fax machine and microwave that all have to be changed. Of course, I forgot the alarms in my Palm that remind me to punch in and out on time, so that didn't happen, and thanks so very much not. And adding insult to injury, it's the worst of both worlds with the Palm, because it's still programmed for the old schedule of DST, so it doesn't automatically switch-over to the new time when the rest of humanity does it, and has to be reset manually - but then, three weeks later, it very unhelpfully DOES automatically switch-over when it thinks DST used to be, so once again, the time has to be reset manually all over again. For someone who's no fan of DST to start with, having to go through this hullabaloo four times in a year with my Palm alarms is a bitter pill to swallow, and probably the best that can be said about it is that the rest of the world should be very glad that I didn't also give up chocolate for Lent, by golly.
Of course, Saturday is the feast day for Ireland's patron saint, the venerable St. Patrick his very own self, and if that's not a perfectly good excuse for green beer, well then, I just don't know what is, begorra. Things seem to have settled down on the parade front since former times, when every mention of the event brought riots, lawsuits and angry speeches at full volume from screamers of every stripe across the controversy. I guess now that they let them get married in this state, the gay people have better things to do than fight over marching in some silly parade, wearing skirts and goofy hats, and they've turned that over, back where it belongs, to the Shriners. I'm kidding of course, it's the presidential candidates in the skirts and goofy hats, because we all know that they will do anything for votes, and unfortunately, the parade organizers can't even file a lawsuit to stop them, because apparently it's not against the law to run for president in this country, regardless of how incompetent or unqualified a person might be, believe it or not. That sound you hear (above the bagpipes) is the aggrieved Founding Fathers spinning in their collective graves, and that's not just a lot of corned beef and cabbage, believe me.
Speaking of The Emerald Isle, I couldn't help but notice this arresting review in the TV Best Bets, about the NBC series "Who Do You Think You Are?" -
===================
Acclaimed actor Martin Sheen delves
into the history books to discover his
family's long-seeded history of activism
in Ireland and Spain.
===================
Obviously, the spell-checker is not going to help you with that, and for all I know, "long-seeded" might be a perfectly legitimate expression that means something appropriate to the context, but you couldn't prove it by me. I can't help but think that's not what they mean at all, and the only comparable phrase that springs to mind is "deep-seated" instead - but for heaven's sake, you have to go pretty far and wide to come up with "long-seeded" when what you really mean is "deep-seated" instead, I must say. That would be sort of like referring to someone as a "fine whether friend" rather than a "fair weather friend," or going the distance with the "hole in nine cards" instead of the "whole nine yards" as it should be. I realize there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, but when words have lost all of their meaning, well, it's no wonder that they let just anyone run for President these days, and more's the pity, I'm sure. I suppose I may as well just go out in my skirt and goofy hat and head for the parade with the rest of the carousers, because you know what they say, "If you can't bleat them, joy in them" - or at least, that's what the horoscope computer would have said, if it hadn't already shorted out from too much green beer, and that's not just the long seeds talking, believe me.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:54 PM
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