Win Big or Go Home

Hello World, Happy days! I'm thinking these are salad days indeed for our old nemesis Comrade Mischka at the controls of the Kremlin's infernal weather machine - and it goes without saying, with croutons and dressing on top, I shouldn't wonder. Around here, the weather hasn't known what to do with itself lately, with cool crisp fall days and glorious sunshine to cheer the soul, interspersed with gray clammy days full of pelting rain and fierce winds. Even with the shorter days, it's been unseasonably warm in the 70's for days on end, but it was so cold on Sunday that people came to church wearing everything they owned, and was still no defense against the chill. (The person who decides when to turn on the heat at church is a no-nonsense Calvinist of the old school, from sturdy pioneer stock, and doesn't let a little thing like freezing temperatures stir her sympathies, I can tell you that.) Nobody fell asleep during the sermon, that's for sure, although it may have been a little difficult to concentrate when the precious few were all huddled together for warmth. I heard later that someone was sharing a video of a crackling fireplace on his cell phone to the rest of the frost-bitten congregation, but let's face it, that was just third party hearsay, and would never stand up in a court of law. Of course, anyone who knows us can tell you that we bleed Mets blue at our house, so the only real news worth mentioning is the Amazin's sweep of the Cubbies right out of the NLCS in four amazing games, as impossible as that might seem. Especially since the Cubs won an impressive 97 games during the regular season, and then went on to robustly manhandle the Pirates and Cardinals (with the two best records in all of baseball) out of the playoffs previously, so I frankly didn't care all that much for the Mets' chances against them. But the eternal "Ya Gotta Believe" spirit of Tug McGraw lives on, and even the scoffers and nay-sayers would have trouble making this out to be some sort of fluke - or any other type of fish, for that matter. Along the way, Daniel Murphy set a major league record by hitting home runs in 6 consecutive post-season games, which is a stat that no one else in the history of the game can lay claim to. Next up is the World Series beginning on Tuesday for all the marbles, where the Mets haven't made an appearance since 2000, when they lost to their cross-town rivals in pinstripes, the mighty Yankees, in 5 games, alas. They last won it all in 1986, so it's been a good long time since their last trip through the ticker tape in the Canyon of Heroes, and not to mention, Joy in Mudville. Ya Gotta Believe! Last week, readers of the local newspaper were treated to an article about the New Hampshire Oyster Project, aiming to restore the natural population all along the East Coast, which has plummeted in recent decades due to disease, over-harvesting, and other problems. They're using a multi-disciplinary approach, involving numerous partners to implement the best solutions to a wide array of problems. One important aspect they mention is volunteer "foster parents" (or as Bill rather wittily referred to them, "foyster" parents) who raise baby oysters, safe in cages tied to their docks, until they're big enough to survive on their own, and not easy prey for crabs or sea birds. Marine biologists then transfer them to artificial reefs, which not only provide significant water quality benefits and habitat for fish, but also act as "speed bumps" to help prevent dangerous storm surges from damaging the coastline. The project has added 18 acres of reefs and more than 3 million oysters to the ecosystem, where they each filter about 20 gallons of water every day, so it's a win-win-win all around. They're also busy developing disease-resistant oysters to further protect this delicacy for its clamoring public - although even the stodgy National Geographic couldn't help but observe - "There are many food items in the world that evoke the question: 'How hungry did the first person to eat this have to be'?" Indeed! This may well be one of those items that only a "foyster" parent could love. Also recently in the paper, there was a front page story about youngsters hanging out at the mall, which was not particularly interesting, except for a curious chronological anomaly that would rouse even our old friends the dinosaurs out of the primordial ooze on the great unformed land masses, and I ought to know. Under the headline was a giant picture that the caption identified as a trio of 12-year-old girls, all carrying their H&M shopping bags, and the center one wearing a Doors T-shirt, of all things. Inasmuch as the band basically broke up in 1971 when lead singer Jim Morrison went on to rock and roll heaven, and even though I admit to being somewhat math-challenged, even I can figure out that not only were these children not even born then, there's a good probability that their parents weren't either. Personally, this strikes me as such an odd fashion statement for anyone born in 2003 to be sporting, it would be like a teenager in 1971 wearing a shirt emblazoned with the likeness of Paul Whiteman or Ukulele Ike from 1927. I'm pretty sure it was Albert Einstein who said, "Time is relative, so time travel is when you go to visit your relatives" - or at least, that's what it says on my T-shirt anyway. And speaking of time out of joint, it's next Sunday on November 1st that looming ahead of us on the horizon is the ominous specter of the nefarious Daylight Saving Time to befuddle us once again, like it or lump it, and thanks ever so much not, I dare say. This is the time of year that we "fall back," so that what is now 6:00 will be 5:00, and what is now sleep time will be wake time, and adding in an extra hour of darkness that nobody wants, and I don't mind saying that I am unanimous in that. And while it may not be unanimous everywhere, at least I can rest assured that I am not alone, not by a long shot, and like any cultural malady that befalls us, it's axiomatic that laughter is the best medicine. We have Bill and our friends at Facebook to thank for this well-deserved skewering of the baneful DST, with all of its wretched ramifications, and is certainly more than worth the two minutes it would take to enjoy the highly comical video. Of course, next week, that would be two minutes an hour ago, minus four cousins, on the theory that everything has relatives, after all. Say, who let Albert Einstein in here? ==================================== https://www.facebook.com/liketimely/videos/1087919847885673/ Elle