Jail Break

Hello World,     Well, here we have all come, limping and wheezing at long last, to the end of a rather challenging month, and I don't mind saying, very much glad of it. In fact, to say that March has long since worn out its welcome around here, would be an understatement of epic proportions - as evidenced by this unlikely story in a recent newspaper: =========================== A sheriff's office in eastern Pennsylvania is sick of winter's endless snow and cold, and has issued an arrest warrant for America's top weather predicting groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil. In early February, Phil said we'd have six more weeks of winter. Well, that deadline has passed, and the Monroe County Sheriff's Office has told the varmint that time's up. Last week, the office announced that it's "seeking the apprehension of Punxsutawney Phil for deception. On February 2, 2018, Phil promised that there would be 6 more weeks of winter. That promise expired on March 16th. We are now on the 2nd day of spring, and we are in the middle of yet another snowstorm." ============================     Much as I am a fan of these prognosticating critters, frankly, I have to say that I side with the Sheriff's office on this one. Into the calaboose for you, Phil!     Of course, last Sunday was what we always refer to around here as the highlight of the church year for cats, when the fresh palms come out to play, oh happy day. It doesn't seem to matter how many years this has happened before in their lives, there's something about new palms in the cat world that never grows old. For the more serious among us, Palm Sunday ushers in Holy Week, including Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, and coincidentally this time around, also Passover on Friday night for good measure. Meanwhile, because Easter Sunday falls on April 1st this year, the suits at MLB headquarters decided to cut Spring Training short, and move up Opening Day to the earliest it's ever been in March, so that no games would be scheduled for Easter, while still fitting in the rest of the games before the end of the season. For whatever reason, it must have worked, because both the Mets and Yankees won their first game, which is always a positive way to start off a new campaign, I dare say - especially since both teams have brand new managers, and I'm sure they were glad to get that first win under their belts from the start. Like fresh palms for cats, no doubt winning on Opening Day never gets old, by Casey.     Speaking of religious observances, it was back at the tail end of February that I mentioned Purim wrapping up a busy month full of occasions, from Groundhog Day to Presidents Day, and everything in between - but I had to admit that I had no understanding of what Purim was all about. In fact, if pressed, I would have to say that I actually had a better grip on the background of the Mexican festival of Cinco de Mayo than even the first thing about Purim, which our Jewish brethren and sisthren have been celebrating for probably the last 2,000 years or so, I shouldn't wonder. Fortunately, our friends at The Journal News are here leaping to the rescue of confused Christians everywhere, with a handy synopsis of all things Purim, under the heading of "It All Started With a Party." Actually, it seems to have started innocently enough, as these things often do, when the King of Persia around 300 BC married a Jewish woman who called herself Esther, a relative of one of the king's advisers. This particular adviser apparently got on the wrong side of the Grand Vizier, who then spitefully concocted a somewhat convoluted plan to eliminate all of the Jews from the Persian kingdom, once and for all. What follows after that (summarized by the newspaper as "intrigue, deception, executions, aliases, decrees, war, royalty, villains and heroes") seems to be an incomprehensible hodge-podge with pretty much everything from mistaken identities, foreign ministers, feasts, spies, nightmares, double-crosses, cyborg storm-troopers, alien abductions, and not to mention, just about anything up to and including the kitchen sink on top of it all. Frankly, I lost the thread of the narrative early on in the proceedings, and never picked it up again, but I can tell you that the plucky Esther managed to save the day somewhere along the way, and the fortuitous happy ending has been celebrated ever since. And I'm sure, like winning on Opening Day, that sort of thing never grows old either. Garcon, more kreplach and hamentashen, if you please!     In other food news, I was coming home from work last week behind a truck from our friends at Croton Farms, and apart from their name, the only other thing painted on the truck was this curious notice: 24 HOUR ANSWERING SERVICE. Now admittedly, I don't pretend to understand much about the intricacies of modern farming, but I couldn't help but wonder if there was such a crying need for this option that you would go to all the trouble of painting it on your trucks, so that everybody in the wide world would be aware of it. I mean, is it really true that multitudes of people call your farm in the middle of the night and say things like, "Hello, can I speak to your rutabagas, please?" The mind reels. Like Purim, and Punxsutawney Phil in jail, there are some things that just don't make any sense - and that's not just the rutabagas talking, believe me. Elle