Perfect Strangers

Hello World, Happy Advent! The Sunday after Thanksgiving was the first Sunday in Advent, celebrated by Christians the world over, and there's certainly no mystery about it, heaven knows. It's not like Easter or Passover, based on some incomprehensible combination of factors, like the first full moon after the ancient Egyptian Opet Festival, in a month without an "R," or some other such nonsense. In comparison, Advent is as simple as can be, you simply count four Sundays backwards from Christmas (which is always on December 25th) and there you are. At least that's where you're supposed to be, but sometimes things around here can get a little off-track, and it doesn't surprise me when we end up having "Advent Monday" instead. But even I wasn't expecting the proverbial wheels to come off to the extent that we didn't actually light the candles on the wreath until "Advent Tuesday," which is in no way an improvement over the original arrangement, believe me. But in the spirit of "better late than never," at least we got the first candle under our belts, as it were, and hopefully the rest of them will fall into place on subsequent Sundays like they're supposed to, and not spill over into the rest of the week, like a bunch of overdue library books out on a spree. Say, who let those Egyptians in here? Of course, last Thursday was Thanksgiving, and while The Holiday Police may cling staunchly to the Norman Rockwell version of the occasion, nowadays in the vagaries and realities of modern times, it must be conceded that there is no wrong way to celebrate. Due to schedule conflicts with relatives, Bill and I joined the ranks of unwanted orphans or foreign humanity that nobody wants to see for the holiday, and rather than crying in our cranberry sauce, we picked ourselves up and went to the movies like the rest of them, by gobble. (Parenthetically, the cinema staff was delighted to see us, and served us up a wonderful meal of personal pan pizzas with movie candy for dessert, and we didn't miss Norman Rockwell a bit.) There's no lack of holiday blockbusters out now, and we opted to see "Dr. Strange" in glorious 3-D, and well worth it, I don't mind saying. It's another offering from the Marvel Studios universe, like "The Avengers," and features the multi-faceted Benedict Cumberbatch (saddled with a somewhat distracting New York accent) in the title role. Although truth be told, in films like this, the actors almost always play second fiddle to the computer-generated special effects, so they could basically have the cleaning lady from the studio in the part, and it wouldn't make much difference. But you can believe me when I say that you should absolutely drop everything and run, not walk, to the nearest theater where it is playing, if only for the sake of those special effects, which are nothing short of astounding, even for jaded moviegoers who have presumably seen it all before. You haven't seen all this before, and it is worth the trip, I can assure you - and even Bill, who is a very tough critic, especially of gigantic, loud, and overpowering movies just for the sake of spectacle. The time seems to fly by, and the story never lags, with one eye-popping sequence after another, and more twists and turns around every corner. [Spoiler alert for anyone who hasn't seen it yet] My favorite part was the climactic battle scene at the end, which was played out entirely in reverse, so instead of everything being killed, or exploded, or destroyed, it was all built back up again and restored to its original state, as if a fairy godmother had taken charge of things, rather than the evil mastermind in question. A personal highlight for me was the surprise appearance of the hunky Thor in the epilogue at the end, so Marvel Studios obviously has some more magic up its sleeve in the near future. As for right now, hurry up and catch it while it's still in theaters, and tell them Norman Rockwell sent you. On Black Friday, while the rest of John Q. Public was busy snapping up huge bargains at the big box stores, we were celebrating a belated Thanksgiving at the log cabin in the wilderness with both of my sisters, and all of the trimmings, it goes without saying. It's true that Tom Turkey did not put in an appearance, but there was plenty of baked ziti, which has developed such renown over the river and through the woods that, like the turkey, it should have its own name by now. I vote for Zelda Ziti. In any event, Zelda Ziti was up to her usual standards, and speaking of standards, there was no lack of mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, cornbread, candied yams, corn pudding, and cranberry sauce, I can assure you. Our hostess, who is a well-known stickler for the multi-color meal, also tried to foist some broccoli on us, but we're all veteran Pilgrims from way back, and we were having no part of that. Dessert options included pumpkin pie, coconut custard pie, and a silky chocolate mousse pie that was sheer decadence on a plate, and I ought to know. Sufficiently weighted down, we were in no danger of blowing away, and in fact, even in high winds, could not have been blown very far. Luckily the big screen TV was nearby, and even though it was Friday and not Thursday, the airwaves were downright chockfull of college football games to keep us all entertained and transfixed with their electrifying antics and ... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ... Where was I? During the day, we also managed to squeeze in a trip to the Forsyth Nature Center in Kingston, and their collection of goats, llamas, peacocks, rams, roosters, alpacas, cows, ducks, pheasants, pigs, bunnies, and giant turtles is nothing if not a sight to behold. There are machines where you can buy treats for the animals, but many other people there had already brought their own, and the critters were happy to chow down on lettuce leaves, carrots, spinach, apples, and other healthy snacks. Based on their rather robust appetites, I have the feeling that Zelda Ziti would go over pretty well there. Across the parking lot is a fantastic playground full of castles and forts, sailing ships and trucks, with all manner of climbing ropes, wavy slides, bouncy bridges, and swings to captivate the imaginations of children of all ages, and especially their parents, I dare say. I said to Bill that they would never have been able to get me out of there when I was a youngster, that's for sure. The weather was a bit brisk, but still nice enough, and we were glad for a chance to get out and enjoy it, and go some place different as a change of pace. Now at least we have an idea of what to do with that darned broccoli. While we were out, we made a bee-line to our hotel, so we could check in, put our luggage in the room, and avert any unwelcome surprises that might have been in store. Sure enough, just touching the doorknob in the hallway, without even opening the door, it was plain as day that the room was way too cold for anything but polar bears and penguins to inhabit, and we hurried inside to turn up the heat, and glad of it. Back at the cabin, we whiled away the time with show-and-tell, computer maintenance, more desserts, and even more big screen TV, which certainly made us very thankful, as befits the holiday weekend. Finally we called it a night, and enjoyed a quiet stay at the hotel, where the temperature was blissfully comfortable, and the polar bears and penguins were left to find their own accommodations. It was with some chagrin in the morning that we realized we had left the cooler at the cabin, rather than bringing it with us to the hotel, in spite of the fact that we had previously made a special trip to procure the drinks that were in the cooler, specifically so that we would have them at the hotel, thanks not. We were soon back at the cabin tucking into French toast and fruit, plus more dessert, and I don't mind saying, still no takers on that broccoli. The intermittent showers gave us no incentive to take a hike around the reservoir as we often do, so the local deer had no alternative but to make fun of some other tourists in our place, alas. We had to get my sister from Long Island to the bus station for her ride home, so we soon bid our fond farewells, and hit the road south. We were lucky to miss the worst of the holiday traffic both ways, and the weather was also unremarkable, coming and going. Even better was dinner at Denny's on the way home, and while I can't say that I spotted Norman Rockwell anywhere in evidence, at least they didn't try to palm off any broccoli on us. Elle