Paint Your Wagon

Hello World, Happy March! I won't say that the month actually came roaring in like a lion on Wednesday, but it did kick February to the curb unceremoniously, hard on the heels of Mardi Gras on the 28th, without so much as a backward glance. Mardi Gras seemed to go off without a hitch, and there were no big news stories of celebration-related calamities coming out of that (French) quarter. Of course, the 28th was also Shrove Tuesday, once renowned for its lavish pancake suppers, but now that is apparently nothing more than a relic from a bygone era that has pretty much faded into oblivion by now. In current events, it seems like they've really put The Little Rascals gang (our younger readers may need to ask their grandparents about that) in charge of the Kremlin's infernal weather machine recently - one day it will be a balmy 70 degrees with blazing sunshine around here, and the next it will be 20 degrees with snow flurries and gale force winds, thanks not. It's no wonder the vast assemblage of prognosticating marmots couldn't agree on anything for Groundhog Day. March started off with a bang this week with Ash Wednesday, ushering in the penitential season of Lent for grouchy Christians everywhere, who have given up things that they like for the next 7 weeks, presenting a more than hypothetical danger to the rest of humanity in the process, and I still maintain, should be required to wear warning signs for the duration. We had our usual Ash Wednesday service at church, and I bumped into a parishioner whose family has been one of the pillars of the congregation for generations, but she said she had never been to the Ash Wednesday service before. "And the church didn't even burn down," I declared congenially, "so I guess that means that we can lay those rumors to rest once and for all." She laughed. Also at church, the festival of the Transfiguration was celebrated on Sunday, and perhaps owing to a little too much sacramental wine on the part of the projectionist, we were greeted with this somewhat perplexing slide on the projection screen: ====================== His face shown like the sun. ~ Matthew 17:1 ====================== I will not blame St. Matthew for "shown" instead of "shone," but apparently you can't count on the good Saint, or your spell-checker, to help when you simply use the wrong word, rather than mis-spelling the right word, alas. In other church-related matters, I had previously described how the corner of the Concordia College campus gets decorated with voluminous displays of lawn decorations for various holidays, most recently Valentines Day and Presidents Day. Well, I'm here to report that things continue apace on the ostentatious corner, and it didn't take long for the inflatable Uncle Sam to get the old heave-ho, only to be replaced by dozens of Irish flags, and - I kid you not - giant inflatable leprechauns, begorrah. It certainly seems as if they've got way too much spare time on their hands at Concordia - and not to mention, perhaps too much sacramental wine besides, I dare say. And speaking of lawns, I can't let the end of February slip away without remarking on our veritable explosion of early crocus all over our yard on February 25th, springing up in hearty patches of deep purple on all sides, and a more welcome harbinger of spring would be hard to come by. Bill even found very early jonquils popping up in the backyard, with shoots of daffodils and hyacinths not far behind. It's pointless to mention spring birds, heaven knows, because the winter has been generally so mild that they basically just stayed here the entire time, and seeing robins on the wing has no particular significance at this point - and more's the pity, I'm sure. And while we're on the subject of colorful things, we have our resident artist, Bill, to thank for the following observation about the wonderful world of cars: ============================== I wonder why no one seems to have thought of no paint at all? A clear-coated raw metal and plastic marvel. (Maybe a matte clear-coat so you don't reflect into the eyes of other drivers.) And think how inexpensive it would be to replace a bumper -- let alone a door panel -- without having to paint it? ============================== I think he may be on to something there. I mean, when you think about it, that's really not such a bad idea after all, and it's a wonder that car enthusiasts haven't embraced this concept long before now. It would certainly be different, set the vehicle apart from all the others, and as conversation pieces go, it would be hard to beat. Heck, I've already come up with a slogan for them: "Go nude, or go home." You saw it here first, folks! Meanwhile at work, I was in the office last week, where they have the monitors that show what is on the security cameras in the garage and outside in the parking lot, and which I have to say, is a lot less interesting than it sounds like it would be. Mostly I just look at them to see what the weather is like, because there are no windows in the garage, and after a while, it can start to feel somewhat disconnected from reality in the office. I heard a funny noise, so I checked the camera just below the office inside the garage, but couldn't see anything. But apparently there must have been a person just out of range of the camera, because I could plainly see a variety of items coming off the shelves below the camera, but not anybody moving them - even though somebody clearly must have been there. It was fascinating to watch, in an offbeat sort of way, as an assortment of lumber, tools, paint cans, copper pipes, and supplies danced through the air, entirely on their own, and effortlessly stacked themselves in a neat pile, by all appearances, untouched by human hands. The whole thing reminded me of nothing so much as an old episode of "Topper" (okay, youngsters, once again - go ask your grandparents about that one) where the prop department would fly objects on fishing line through the scene as if the resident ghosts were moving them in their other-worldly transparency. I didn't bother to check the parking lot cameras, on the theory that if it really was ghosts, they would certainly be driving an invisible car - but then it occurred to me that, of anyone, ghosts would probably go wild for Bill's nude car paint innovation, and let's face it, this is a demographic that has been woefully neglected by the auto industry up to now. Honestly, where is Earl Scheib when you need him??? (Okay, children - oh, never mind.) Elle