Tom Terrific

Hello World, Happy December! Admittedly, it doesn't seem remotely possible that it could be the last month of the year, but unfortunately, as the saying goes, "... to ignore the facts does not change the facts" (with thanks to Andy Rooney) as much as we all might wish otherwise, and that goes double for the procrastinators among us, oh by gosh, by golly. Now that good old Tom Turkey has come and gone, and before we know it, we'll be seeing the jolly old elf himself in the red suit, reindeer and all, and the jingle bell juggernaut will be well on its year-end jaunt for real. Once it gets started, everyone had better jump on board with a hey-nonny-nonny and a fa-la-la, or be left in a hail of sugar plums and candy canes, wondering where it all went wrong. Anyone can tell you that I always say it's awfully late in the year to get on the wrong side of the Nice and/or Naughty divide at this point. Speaking of holidays, ours got off to a sort of rocky start, and we weren't alone in that calamity, heaven knows, not by any means. The weather forecast for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving was grim at best, and in some areas, it was positively dire, so that even normally adventurous travelers were filled with foreboding. The interesting response to this sense of impending doom turned into what could only be described as "Getaway Tuesday," as millions of wandering pilgrims took to the roads, rails, and wild blue yonder a day early, to avoid the bad weather to come. Trying to get home from my temp job soon became an exercise in futility, enough so that we decided to just pull off the highway and have dinner, hoping to wait it out until it cleared up. In the end, we didn't get home until 8:00 PM, but it was still better than sitting in traffic the whole time. On Wednesday, the snow wasn't as bad as predicted in our region, and they also let us go home early - although that didn't turn out as planned, as Bill got held up in such a profusion of work-related tasks and other errands, that it ended up as another long day's journey into night, and no thanks to Eugene O'Neill, believe me. Thursday dawned damp and blustery, with residual snow scattered about, and it was nice to have a chance to relax, and not have to run around like a bunch of Neanderthals after a herd of wild mastodons, which to be fair, is at least moderately better than the other way around, I dare say. Although we had been invited to join friends for the holiday, who had kindly taken pity on us poor unwanted orphan pilgrims, it was not until later in the evening, when the rest of humanity was already firmly hunkered down at the groaning board - and I don't mind saying that driving through the wilds of Greenwich at 6:00 PM in the pitch dark was a lot more like the dreaded Zombie Apocalypse than I personally cared for. However, our hosts greeted us with open arms, and invited us into the bosom of their family, where we combined to form a nicely rounded-out group of 8, and not to mention, 2 large and excitable dogs and 2 remarkably easy-going cats. They had also just adopted the world's tiniest, most adorable kitten, which you could hold in one hand, and just basically eat it right up and forget about dinner altogether, and I ought to know. In an interesting twist, the proud owners of a new pool table decided to press it into service as a dining table, along with a motley assortment of mis-matched chairs, which even normal-sized adults admitted was way too high, and people were pretty much reduced to shoveling the food right into their mouths from the table top at chin height. Fortunately for me, they gave me an adjustable stool instead, so I didn't just disappear under the table completely. That would have been too bad because the copious home-cooked meal was a nice variety of old favorites, with a few novel innovations tossed in for good measure, including deviled eggs (YUM!) and fresh baked bread. Bill brought along his guitar for after-dinner entertainment, and with various family members pitching in, there was plenty of picking and grinning to go around, that was lots of fun and a barrel of laughs. If nothing else, it certainly cleared the dogs and cats out of the room, although the reports of them scurrying around for earplugs were greatly exaggerated, I'm sure. When our hosts finally started falling asleep on us, we had to reluctantly say goodnight, and head back out into the dark and lonely empty streets, which looked even more like Zombie Apocalypse than before, and the prospect of Chainsaw Bob leaping out of the shadows was a very real possibility, at least in our own minds. On Black Friday, it was time to travel over the river and through the woods to my sister's log cabin out in the wilderness for more holiday cheer. This not being our first time at the rodeo, we stopped along the way at the SuperLodge motel to check in and turn up the heat, rather than showing up at midnight to a deep freeze in the dark deserted. At the cabin, it turned out that only one of our hosts was on hand, due to a family emergency, so we were welcomed with only half-open arms, but not the less sincere for all that. Here we were presented with even more delicious food and desserts, and plenty to go around - although the resident tabby kept calling attention (in a rather woebegone manner) to her empty food dish, where the vittles seemed to vanish mysteriously out of it as soon as it was refilled. After stuffing ourselves to the gills and beyond, and watching all the football that any 3 people could possibly stand, we figured we should call it a night and hit the road while we were still awake and at least semi-functional. We were surprised when we got to the SuperLodge to find the parking lot packed with cars, since it had been completely empty when we had been there earlier in the day. This prompted unwelcome visions in our minds of hot-and-cold running Shriners, carrying on and cavorting up and down the hallways at all hours, which has happened to us before, and is not a pretty sight, believe me. But our fears proved to be unfounded, and the place was still quiet and comfy, and even warm enough, which is a lodging trifecta we can all live with. In the morning, we headed back to the cabin for toasty warm cinnamon buns, date nut bread, and left-over desserts that had very much not worn out their welcome from the day before, I can assure you. After that, we tramped around the Ashokan Reservoir, where the chill did not dampen the spirits of our hiking and biking brethren, although the nesting eagles and foraging deer were nowhere in sight, and must have had other plans for the holiday weekend. After even more left-overs and football, as impossible as that might sound, we finally had to bid our fond farewells, and get outta Dodge while the getting was good. They were as glad to see us at Denny's in Newburgh as we were to be there, and that was plenty, I can tell you that. The traffic wasn't as bad on Saturday night as it would have been on Sunday, and we arrived home safe and sound, where the cats greeted our return with a curious mixture of disappointment, relief, confusion, and outright terror. Frankly, I didn't think we looked all that much like Chainsaw Bob, but then, I suppose it all depends on which side of the Zombie Apocalypse you're on. Elle