Say It Ain't So

Hello World, Happy (Eastern Orthodox) Easter! At long last, the Greeks bearing gifts have caught up with the rest of Christianity in celebrating the Resurrection on Sunday, hard on the heels of Passover, as it should be, and not clocking in a whole month ahead of time, like the hard-charging Western denominations in March. (Get thee behind me, peeps!) It should be interesting to see if the same problem persists next year, with the darned time-shifting foxes in charge of the chronology hen-house once again, or if things settle back down into more of a routine, and in the proper sequence like they're supposed to be. Also coming up on the schedule, at least for Western churches, Ascension is on Thursday, May 5, which this year coincides with Cinco de Mayo, the Mexican-flavored lollapalooza of all things tequila, and don't spare the churros, my good man! And not to be an alarmist, but Mother's Day is the following Sunday on May 8, so anyone who isn't already prepared for Mommie Dearest's big day had better tear on out of here and scoop up some flowers, candy, and jewelry on the PDQ, or be ready to face the consequences. Squeezing itself in just ahead of that, the venerable Kentucky Derby will have its 142nd running on Saturday May 7, where we can all enjoy their self-titled "The Most Exciting Two Minutes In Sports" before the curse of Affirmed can work its evil spell over any potential Triple Crown hopefuls. And I guess we should all be glad that it's not the darned time-shifting Daylight Savings foxes in charge of the Churchill Downs hen-house, or it would take an hour and 2 minutes to finish the race instead. Alas, there is no joy in at least half of Mudville, on the frozen front these days, and more's the pity, I'm sure. The hapless Rangers, who were supposed to finish in 4th place, anticipating an easy match-up with Florida in the first round, couldn't even get that right - finishing in 3rd place instead, only to run headlong into the teeth of the mighty Penguins, and they were summarily booted out of the playoffs in 5 games to no one's surprise, and with their dreams of post-season glory dashed for yet another year, thanks not. Meanwhile, the surprising Islanders (who now play their games at the shiny new Barclays Center in Brooklyn) ousted Florida in six, moving onto the 2nd round for the first time since 1993, no doubt to the delight of their legion of disappointed fans for the last 23 years, I dare say. Speaking of no joy, Wednesday April 27 passed without incident at my temporary job, with no hint or mention of Administrative Professionals Day to cheer up the downtrodden clerical staff, in stark contrast to the rollicking Secretary's Day luncheons of yore, with speeches and gift bags at local country clubs for the hard-working support staff of the city's finest employers - and even some of the not-so-finest, such as the Employer of Last Resort, where I used to work. While I wasn't exactly expecting a dozen long-stemmed roses and going out to a fancy restaurant for lunch, it would have been a nice touch to at least have some recognition of the day, and not just have it ignored in a completely oblivious manner. Fortunately, I'm planning to have plenty of Ascension tequila on Thursday, which I expect will help take some of the sting out of things, or know the reason why. Say, who let that Mariachi band in here? Also happening around the old homestead, the colorful explosion of spring flowers continues apace, in spite of the rather unpredictable weather, and I don't mind saying, even more welcome for all that. Star flowers have popped up all over the yard, vying for space among the purple and white violets on every side, and hardy money plants giving it their all. The lovely azaleas are starting to bloom from one side of the yard to the other, while on the rock wall, the snowball bush is awash in its namesake blooms, and looking good enough to eat. There's still plenty of grape hyacinths and wind flowers everywhere, and although it's early days yet, I spotted my first sturdy stand of rampant alien mutant poison ivy, standing straight up in the middle of the yard, the way they do nowadays, and daring anyone to trifle with it, and live to regret it. That would not be me, obviously, since I have long since learned my lesson on that score, when it ran roughshod over our patio furniture, swallowed up a couple of unwary Jehovah's Witnesses, and I'm still trying to get the poor mailman's hat back. One of the neighbors is trying to convince me that she hears the unmistakable sounds of slot machines coming from the ivy patch, but I'm chalking that up to an over-indulgence of Ascension tequila on her part, if you know what I mean. In my continuing efforts to land an actual job, I was filling out an application online, where they asked me for the date I started my last job, to which I blithely entered in "May 1898," instead of 1989, and I'm not sure which of us was more surprised. Mind you, 1989 is bad enough in this go-go Gen-X millennial-fueled job market nowadays, heaven knows (many of whom weren't even born yet in 1989) but I'm figuring that being saddled with a job from 1898, of all things, I wouldn't stand any kind of chance with them whatsoever, not even as a historical curiosity - and I don't need our old friends the dinosaurs snickering in The Peanut Gallery to know that, by golly. Speaking of chronology challenges, it's entirely possible that I might well be the only person who appreciates the irony of the Christmas Tree Shops selling beach umbrellas. In April, no less. Meanwhile on the AOL Welcome Screen, alert readers couldn't help but notice that they recently offered what they described thusly: ============================== Peak Inside Bing Crosby's Desert Mansion ============================== Gee, I sure hope not. Here I'm thinking, if there was any sort of a "peak" inside Der Bingle's mansion, it would have made it plenty uncomfortable for the rest of the inhabitants - that is, unless they were all avid mountaineers, looking to get in some practice time on their home turf. And not to sound like a broken record, but we all know that the spell-checker is not going to help you with that either. Also not saying what they mean (one hopes!) our local newspaper (their motto: "We Break The News, So You Don't Have To") recently ran a front page story on private and municipal developments in the city of Peekskill, which they expected to re-invigorate the downtown for the arts, dining, entertainment, and shopping. The story enumerated a wide variety of different proposals being considered, with a multitude of purposes, and serving a broad audience of residents and visitors alike. They credited this arresting quote to the city's mayor, and apparently without a hint of irony: ========================== "Like dominoes, you will see these projects rise off the drawing boards and forever change the skyline." ========================== What the .... ????? [Please insert your own cartoon image of vigorous head-shaking, with the sound effect of two marbles rattling around in a tin can, and thanks ever so.] Whoever heard of dominoes rising off a drawing board??? Heck, even without the drawing board tossed in there out of left field, dominoes aren't something that rises up, like a house of cards, you lay them flat on a table to play with, and the only time anyone stands them up is for the purpose of knocking them over in elaborate patterns to amuse and astonish onlookers. And which, I don't mind saying, is just about the exact opposite of rising up, no matter how you slice it. Under the circumstances, I wouldn't begrudge Mr. Mayor an "A" for enthusiasm, but if this was The Idiom Olympics, well, let's just say that he wouldn't be taking home any medals for that mixed metaphor, I can tell you that. Quick, will someone please get the Ascension tequila away from that man! Elle