Saturday, December 31, 2005

First Rabbit Rabbit of 2006

I bet you didn't know that Father Time was a Rabbit, didcha? Ha! So, it's the first day of the new year, and you learned somethin' right here.

Happy New Year! So, whatcha gonna do with it, huh?

Friday, December 30, 2005

It's that time

This is the time when a lot of people make New Year's Resolutions. I dunno why. Mostly we just break them right away. Besides, I think the number one resolution made in the U.S. is to lose weight. But as Jay Leno says: "Now there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average. Which means you've met your New Year's resolution." So. There ya go.

'Course, I always resolve to save the world from destruction before breakfast. I've done that a couple of times. Resolved it. Not saved it.

I think we should make resolutions for OTHER people to keep. Like for my adopted son, Doug of Waking Ambrose, I resolve that he will start a list of four to six-syllable nerbs, just in case someone ever needs one.

For my daughter Acton Bell, I resolve that she take a cruise on a floating micro-brewery with a book group that discusses Bronte novels exclusively.

For my daughter Aral of AP3, I resolve that she form an ice hockey league for vegetarian Hindu priests who read religious books in the penalty box.

For my daughter 3D, I resolve that she install a kitchen in her van so that she can make band fudge while holding Girl Scout meetings in the car and driving the cats to the vet.

Let's throw in an infamous person: for Donald Trump: To buy new hair.

Okay, your turn. Write a resolution for somebody ELSE. Famous, infamous, or whatever.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Smart phone

I got a new cell phone yesterday. It's sweet. It's got a buncha new features (new to me anyway). It takes pictures, has voice dialing, e-mail, mobile web. Good stuff.

Anyway, last night I sat down with the User Guide to learn how to use all this junk. I laughed so hard my eyes disappeared, I lost sound, my body was convulsing, you know the routine. I was trying to read the Important Safety Precautions to husband Niks.

He was dying laughing too. 'Course he was dying laughing at me, since he couldn't hear any of the safety precautions. Told you: I lost sound.

The very first warning: Violation of the instructions may cause serious injury or death.
Whoa! DEATH? By cell phone? Holy shit!! This is some serious phone I got here.

Next comes: Never place your phone in a microwave oven. Aw, maaaannnnn! You mean I gotta eat it raw???!

Then: Do not dispose of your battery by fire. Is by flood okay I wonder?

Also: Be careful that children do not swallow any parts of the phone. Heck, since I can't cook it in the microwave, I seriously doubt that I could talk a kid into eating it anyway. But I guess chewing on it is okay. Just no swallowing. You guys. Don't go there.

Then: Do not drop, strike, or shake your phone severely. I guess that all punishment has to be stuff like time-outs. I'll never get control of the phone if I have to send it to its room. Or maybe I should call the customer service and get a definition of "severely." Yeah. I think I'll do that.

Here are some other silly instructions:

On Sears hair dryer: Do not use while sleeping. Jeez. Can't get those extra z's in the AM.

On bag of Fritos: You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside. Steal the bag.

On a box of Dial Soap: Directions: Use like regular soap. You know how to use irregular soap I'm sure.

On some Schwann's frozen dinners: Serving suggestion: Defrost. Even in the summer?

On a hotel provided shower cap in a box: Fits one head. But not a big ego.

On Tesco's Tiramisu desert: Do not turn upside down. (Printed on the bottom of the box.) Now you tell me.

On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding: Product will be hot after heating. I had no idea that heating caused heat.

On packaging for a Rowenta Iron: Do not iron clothes on body. Okay, I've actually tired this on a morning when I was runnin' late.

On Boot's Children's Cough Medicine: Do not drive car or operate machinery. What about kids in China? They gotta work, don't they?

On Nytol (a sleep aid): Warning: May cause drowsiness. Oh, drat. And here you are at work.

On a Korean kitchen knife: Warning: Keep out of children. So, how're we gonna cut 'em up?

On a string of Chinese-made Christmas lights: For indoor or outdoor use only. I'm thinking.

On a Japanese food processor: Not to be used for other use. Speechless.

On Sainbury's peanuts: Warning: Contains Nuts. Is that all? No peas?

On an American Airlines packet of nuts: Instructions: Open packet, eat nuts. Can't use these as a douche.

On a Swedish chainsaw: Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands. Feet are okay.

On a box of aspirin: Do not take if allergic to aspirin. One aspirin is just like another?

To be truly safe: Just stay at home and be very, very still. Niks and I are going to the movies to see The Squid and the Whale . We're old. It's okay if we get killed by popcorn or somethin'.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

We're on the road to nowhere

Radio question of the day:
A fifth of us admit that we've called in sick to work because of this. What is it?

My friend Irene and I have had to go inside to mall walk now that it's icy in the mornings. Yesterday the mall opened at 6 AM for after Christmas shopping. The mall was packed!

Boy! People are a trip, ya know? We could barely move through the crowds. Too many people, boldly going nowhere. Yakking away. You want to ask them if people on their planet ever shut up.

Actually I want the Gene Police to take care of them: YOU! Out of the pool! God must love stupid people. He made so many of 'em. But if you think of it, half the people you know are below average. So, don't think about it.

We're tryin' to walk, and here these folks are, meandering to a different drummer, in our way. Oh, you think I'm just jealous because I can't hear the voices in their heads. But I can hear 'em too. I just don't have to answer out loud.

This one old guy, a born ass hole (the rest probably grew later), just has to stop and talk to all the old ladies. It's like: Here I am! Now what are your other two wishes? My other two wishes are, one: get lost; two: drop dead. He struts when he walks, and he dresses spiffy too. He obviously knows that clothes make the man. It's true. Naked people have little or no influence on society. So I can't fault him on that.

Did I ever mention the little old guy who checks out all the coin-operated machines? You know, those gumball machines and such? He goes to every coin-operated machine in the mall, and rattles the handle, checks the coin-return slot, etc. He's pretty much diagonally parked in a parallel universe. Sweet old guy though. He's slower and frailer than he was last year when we were mall walking. I missed him in the spring, summer, and fall when we were walking outside. I worried about him. We used to try to get to the mall before he did and put money in the machines for him. You know what's scary? He drives to the mall.

A lot of the old people who walk at the mall have to use walkers. Some of them are all bent over. But they DRIVE to the mall. They should not be driving. They have handicapped license plates. They have to park close to the entrance. But they walk miles inside the mall. I better stop thinkin' about all this now. Better living through denial.

There's a nut case out there who carries a big bag around with him on his walk.
He's not suffering from insanity. He's enjoying every minute of it. I'm dyin' to know what's in the bag. Irene and I have talked about one of us trippin' him and the other one grabbing the bag for a look-see. But this is the only mall in the area. Not another one on this side of the river. We'd have to drive a long way to mall-walk after we pulled a prank like that. Maybe in the spring right before we go back outside to walk. Maybe the other old folks would forget about it by the next winter. Those old folks.

Answer to the radio question of the day: You don't have coffee in the house.

I should have guessed that. This morning I discovered that we were out of coffee fillers. I had to make one out of a paper towel. It worked. Otherwise I would have called in sick to the mall. Come to think of it, I've used up all my sick days, so next time I'm calling in dead.

Monday, December 26, 2005

It ain't over yet

We had a very nice Christmas DAY, but the season isn't over yet. It goes all the way to January first. Make that January second. At least. Then there's all the football games. And more food.

We have more gatherings to attend. Yea!

By the time it's all over, we can all collectively sing. We can be the fat ladies and fat boys chorus.

But first, we all have to eat more stuff. Hope you're all still having fun. No workin', ya hear?
You guys.

Friday, December 23, 2005

Have the merriest of Holidays

I hope whatever holiday you are celebrating this season, it is as good as good can be! For me that means Merry Christmas ! For you, it may mean Happy Hanukkah, *Festivus For The Rest of Us, or even something else entirely. Whatever it is, make it merry.

*C'est chic reminded me of Festivus For The Rest Of Us. Great holiday! How did I forget it?

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Nobody knows the truffles I've seen

On Tuesday when I took Peggy for her chemo treatment, I had time to kill. So I went to Chocolate World. Hershey PA truly is a sweet town! I love chocolate, but I didn't buy any for myself. My daughters of course know that they give you chocolate when you take the tour ride which explains how the cacao beans are harvested and become the chocolate that we eat and drink. (They also take a photo of you on the ride. That's me up there. I need color, don'tcha think?)

So, I did eat that little bit of chocolate that they force on you. But all the chocolate that I bought there is for other people. Of course, once you've had Schwartz' chocolate, you don't lust after Hershey chocolate so much anyway.

Most women love chocolate. So if you need to buy one last gift for a woman somewhere, my advice is to make it chocolate.

I shamelessly stole these chocolate rules from this Author Unknown guy. Some name, huh?
If you've got melted chocolate all over your hands, you're eating it too slowly.

Clearly, chocolate is a vegetable. Chocolate is derived from cacao beans. A bean is a vegetable. Wait! There's more! Sugar is derived from either sugar cane or sugar beets. Both are plants, which places them in the vegetable category. QED: chocolate is a vegetable.

Chocolate-covered raisins, -cherries, -orange slices and -strawberries all count as fruit. Eat as many as you want. Fruits are an important part of the Food Pyramid.

Hot tip: Eat a chocolate bar before each meal. It'll take the edge off your appetite and you'll eat less. I've tested this. It's true.

If calories are an issue, store your chocolate on top of the fridge. Calories are afraid of heights, and they will jump out of the chocolate to protect themselves.

Money talks. Chocolate sings.

Chocolate has many preservatives. Preservatives make you look younger. Therefore, chocolate is therapeutic.

Put "eat chocolate" at the top of your list of things to do today. That way, at least you'll get one thing done.

A nice box of chocolates can provide your total daily intake of calories in one place. Isn't that handy?

If you can't eat all your chocolate, it will keep in the freezer. But if you can't eat all your chocolate, what's wrong with you?

I would like to add my own rules and observations to the above "rules."

Chocolate eaten while standing over the kitchen sink, doesn't count as calories.

Chocolate eaten between midnight at 4 AM has no calories.

Flowers wilt, jewelry tarnishes, and candles burn out ...BUT CHOCOLATE DOESN'T HANG AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO GET OLD. Still, a general rule of thumb is that most any food cannot be kept longer than the average life span of a hamster. (Keep a hamster in your refrigerator to gauge this.)

When in doubt, and it's chocolate, go ahead and eat it.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

All I want for Christmas

Radio question of the day:
60 percent of married men cannot do this at Christmas time. What is it?


Well, we're closin' in on Christmas. Hope you have all your shopping done. I have everything ready except the things that can't be done this far ahead, like buying some food products that I want as fresh as possible. Some cooking of course has to be done at the last minute also.

What do you want for Christmas? I mean other than World Peace and such. I know you were gonna ask for "World Peace." You guys. So sweet. But just this once, be selfish. What one material thing that is strictly for yourself, would you want for Christmas?

Don't worry I'm not going to rush out and buy it, so the sky's the limit. Just one thing. Just for you. What does your heart-of-hearts desire for Christmas?


Answer to question of the day: They cannot remember what they got their wife the year before.

Monday, December 19, 2005

Another volunteer day

Today I take a church friend out to Hershey Medical Center for her chemotherapy treatment. I do this every three weeks. She's a darling person. This takes from 8 AM to about 1 PM, depending on how things go. So, if I'm not too tired when I get back, I'll make the rounds this evening. I miss you guys.

I am very happy to be able to do this for Peggy. She's had two cancers, and all the while her husband is quite sick. He had a liver transplant during her first cancer. Now he needs a new kidney. These are not old people. They are middle-aged. I have my health. I'm humbled by my good luck.

So off I go. But I could leave you with a little something I suppose.

there you are, having a dinner party.....
Your parents are there,
Your in-laws are there,
Your boss and his wife are there,
The minister and his wife are there,
You're all settling down for a nice relaxing evening dinner,
Then in walks the dog....

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Very busy day

Radio question of the day:

33 percent of us do this in the kitchen. 25 percent in the bedroom? What is it?


Today is a very busy day for me. I have lots to do including shopping for Christmas Day food and person-sitting dddragon's MIL. No time to write. But, of course, I'll read. You don't get to say that you are busy. I said it first. I'd have nothing to read tonight if you claim that you have a life too.

You guys have a nice day. Somewhere else. And I mean that in the best possible way.

Answer to the question of the day:
What do 33 percent of us do this in the kitchen and 25 percent in the bedroom?

A: Wrap Christmas presents.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

How weird am I?

Weird enough to post a cartoon I know you can't read. Pretty weird, huh? If you're lucky, Monika will drop by and tell you what it says.

Sylvie of Crazy Fat Lady Blues tagged me, and I guess I'll play, since I have nothing to say anyway, and all day to say it.

Here are the rules:

The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits that I have," and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. (That was what it said, otherwise, believe me I would not have stated it clearly. I would have messed it up, just because I'm that kinda gal.)

In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says "You are tagged" (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours in order to get the rules.

I have weirdness to spare. So this is easy.

1. I support Planned Parenthood just because I believe in stopping crime at its source.

2. I talk to myself. I like dealing with an intelligent, better-class person.

3. I still have some ashes that I intend to scatter. From three different dead relatives. I keep'em in my closet. I've scattered some of the ashes for each one of these people, but the supply of ashes exceeded the demand, ifyaknowwhatImean. The weird habit part is that I dust them. I don't think havin' the ashes is weird. Do you? You people!

4. I have people thinking that I have energy. But the truth is I don't. In fact, I'm trying to arrange my life so I don't even have to be in it.

5. I think anything worth saying is worth saying three times. At a minimum. At least. You just can't say something enough. Or more. So I say things over. Again.

I'm a bit too lazy to tag someone else. I expect some of you to volunteer. If you're reading this lousy blog, you got nothin' to do. So, go tag yourself. You guys.

Friday, December 16, 2005


It's pretty white around here. So I thought I'd just stay inside and do my cards for the season(s), whatever it is. This is your "whatever" card from me for "whatever" season it is for you.

Please accept without obligation, express or implied, these best wishes for an environmentally safe, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, and gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday as practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice (but with respect for the religious or secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or for their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all) and further for a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated onset of the generally accepted calendar year (including, but not limited to, the Christian calendar, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures). The preceding wishes are extended without regard to the race, creed, age, physical ability, religious faith or lack thereof, choice of computer platform, or sexual preference of the wishee(s).

Love, TLP and Niks

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Everybody's busy

Half of you folks are so busy because of the season, that you don't know if you are coming or going. This picture is for you.

Most days I'm embarrassed to put up my piddy little post 'cause it's so nothing. Just wasting your time here. But yesterday Sar reminded me about diversion. You guys are just lucky I've decided to divert you today. Got nothin' to say of course, but here are a few poems for big kids.

Mary had a little pig,
She kept it fat and plastered;
And when the price of pork went up,
She shot the little bastard.

Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her,
Between two hunks of bread.

JACK AND JILL Went up the hill
To have a little fun.
Stupid Jill forgot the pill
And now they have a son.

SIMPLE SIMON met a Pie man going to the fair.
Said Simple Simon to the Pie man,
"What have you got there?" Said the Pie man unto Simon,
"Pies, you dumb #$%!"

HUMPTY DUMPTY sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings' horses, And all the kings' men.
Had scrambled eggs, For breakfast again.

HEY DIDDLE, DIDDLE the cat took a piddle,
All over the bedside clock.
The little dog laughed to see such fun.
Then died of electric shock.

GEORGIE PORGY Pudding and Pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
And when the boys came out to play,
He kissed them too 'cause he was gay.

There was a little girl who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good.
But when she was bad........ She got a fur coat, jewels, a waterfront condo, and a sports car.

But you know where bad girls go. They go everywhere. I gotta get movin' here.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Fund Raiser Nude Calendar

This is for a worthy cause.

The all-nude Police Officer calendar for 2006 comes in an all-male and an all-female version for only $8.95, (plus $2.45 for shipping and handling).

$5.00 from each sale goes to the National Police Officer Memorial Fund.

All pictures show full frontal nudity, for both female and males.

Just click on the menu to select which one you want to preview. They are available for sale on the site -- the calendars, not the officers. Click on the site below to view all 12 (24) totally nude police officers.

2006 Calendars

Remember this is for a good cause.

Mall walk

Question of the day:
The Japanese have invented a new toilet that saves water in a unique way. How does this new invention work?
Yesterday my walking buddy Irene and I went inside to walk for the first time this season. So from now until early spring, we will be mall walkers. Sigh. We like walking outside better.

A bonus to walking inside is that the mall doesn't open for walkers until 8 AM. So we can sleep later. We were walking outside in the summer at 6:30 AM. That had gradually crept up to 7:00 AM because of the shorter-light days. Now we miss the sunrise. Too bad.

One down side of walking in the mall is, well, the old people who walk in the mall so early. They dress up for the occasion. Those guys. These old ladies wear matching outfits. They put on makeup. They comb their hair! In fact, some of the hair you see on the early-morning-old-ladies looks plastic, so I guess they're not combin' that. Maybe apply fresh glue. Like that.

So anyway, now the two of us have to rake a comb through our hair and put on bras. Botheration.

Another down side is that from now until Christmas, the stores in the mall are all opening at 8 AM. Usually they open at 9:30 and 10:00 depending on the store. So yesterday, bein' the first day inside and all, Irene was like a kid in a candy store.

"Oh, look at that shirt!" Irene is all excited. "Perfect for my niece Lois!" So we stroll inside that store and check out the shirt. Further on down the line, she sees an outfit for her granddaughter. So we gotta go in there and check out the sizes and colors available. Then we really got seriously hung up in a store with bath oils, body lotions, all kinds of that stuff. We came out smelling like a rose. Also like a cucumber, black raspberries, vanilla beans, and cotton blossoms. Not to mention the sparkles we had on our faces and hands.

We were in and out of stores all down one side of the mall. At the turn, by Penney's, she was headin' in, but I caught her arm and sez, "We are not goin' the heck into Penney's."

"But it's pulling me!" she said.

"No. The only thing pullin' you is me. That's me aholda your arm."

So we get past Penney's, and she's good past the Tuxedo shop and the men's wear store next to it. She's tempted by some other places, but I've got a firm grip on her.

Then I insist that we go into Hecht's Department Store. I want her to see the Christmas decorations section there. The decorations throughout the store are pretty. But wait 'til you get to the part where they sell fake trees and sh*t.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw the first horrible fake tree. It's a neon chartreuse. The decorations on that ugly tree are neon pink, yellow, more chartreuse, orange, etc. Next to it is a turquoise fake tree. When I say "fake tree," I'm talkin' the most fake fake-tree you can imagine. Many "permanent trees" are very real looking. These fake trees are so fakey-looking it's amazing.

The turquoise tree has crabs. It's a nautical theme. Hand-sized orange crabs hanging all over it. Other fish and such too. Sad.

Then there's the dull maroon tree. It has purple, maroon, and dull gold decorations. Irene's beginnin' to choke up. But the brown fake tree really got her. "What's that?" she asked, "A fake dead Christmas tree?" Tears come to her eyes. The brown fake-dead Christmas tree has brown and dull gold decorations. It's my personal fav. Best fake-already-dead tree I ever saw.

Today we're goin' to WALK if it kills her. And by "it" I mean me. I'll just walk and drag Irene. In a mall where they sell fake dead Christmas trees, no one will notice one dead old lady being dragged along, yaknowwhatI'msayin'?

Answer to question of the day: Studies in Japan showed that many people using public toilets flushed before it was necessary to do so, in order to cover the noise they were making while using the facility. So a Japanese company has devised a toilet with a button that plays a recording of a toilet flushing. It makes the usual flushing noise (to cover any other sounds) while using no water at all. In the end, so to speak, one uses the actual flushing devise.

Monday, December 12, 2005

A Red Neck Christmas

A Red Neck Christmas
It appears that some folks need a "Night Before Christmas" that is more the way they themselves speak. So here it is.

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin was a trickle of spittle.
His socks, they was hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.

That Bubba got scared and rousted the boys.
There was Rufus, 12, Jim Bob was 11, Dud goin' on 10, Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky were 5, 4, and 3:
The twins were both girls so they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, no need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack that hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns they grabbed them all.
Bubba said to the young'uns, "now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do is wake up yer Maw."

Maw was expecting and needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door without making a peep.
They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared he could not say a word.

This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.
It was Santy Claus on the roof, darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; they was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.
Bubba hollered out, "don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.

The dogs were a-barkin' and a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
"Down, Spot! shut up Bullet! quiet, Roscoe and Enos!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"

"Git down from that porch! git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, or you'll make Santy fall!"
The dogs kept a-barkin' and wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete
Who was only a pup.

Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, but left a few for the boys.
Since the guns had been dropped he just might not die.

He jumped in his sleigh, told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble, Santa started to worry.
Just as the reindeer got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, but Bubba didn't care.

He was busy lookin' at all his new toys.
Then a thought hit him, and he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, and the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer it looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, he liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, and the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish a Yee Haw Merry Christmas to you!!!

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Twas the Nocturnal Serment of the Diurnal Period

The Night Before Christmas poem is one of the most parodied writings ever I believe. Here's one version for intellectuals:


Twas the nocturnal segment of the diurnal period preceding the annual yuletide celebration. And throughout our place of residence, kinetic activity was not in evidence among the possessors of this potential, including that species of domestic rodent known as mus musclus.

Hosiery was meticulously suspended from the forward edge of the wood-burning caloric apparatus, pursuant to our anticipatory pleasure regarding an eminent visitation from an eccentric philanthropist among whose folkloric appellations is the honorific title of St.Nicholas.

The prepubescent siblings, comfortably ensconced in their respective accommodations of repose, were experiencing subconscious visual hallucinations of variegated fruit confections moving rhythmically through their cerebrums. My conjugal partner and I, attired in our nocturnal head coverings, were about to take slumberous advantage of the hibernal darkness, when upon the avenaceous exterior portion of the grounds there ascended such a cacophony of dissonance that I felt compelled to arise with alactrity from my place of repose for the purpose of ascertaining the precise source thereof.

Fastening to the casement, I forthwith opened the barriers sealing this fenestration, noting thereupon that the lunar brilliance without, reflected as it was on the surface of a recent crystalline precipitation, might be said to rival that of the solar merdidan itself; thus permitting my incredulous optica lsensory organs to behold a miniature airborne runnered conveyance drawn by eight diminutive specimens of the genus ragifer.

Piloted by a minuscule aged chauffeur so ebullient and nimble that it became instantly apparent to me that he was indeed our anticipated caller. With his ungulate motive power traveling at what may have been more vertigiuous velocity than patriotionalar predators, he vodiferated loudly, exuelled breath musically through contracted lasia, and addressed each of the octet by his or her respected cognonen; Now Dasher, now Dancer, et al.

Guiding them to the uppermost exterior level of our abode, through which structure could readily distinguish the concatenations of each of the 32 cloven pedal extremities. As I retracted my cranium from its erstwhile location, and was performing a 180-degree pivot, our distinguished visitant achieved, with utmost celerity in animal pelts soiled by the ebon residue from oxidations of carboniferous fuels which had accumulated on the walls thereof.

His resemblance to a street vendor I attributed largely to the planthora of assorted playthings which he bore exorsally in commodious cloth receptacle. His orbs were scintillant with reflected luminosity, while his submaxillary dermal indentations gave every evidence of exgaging amiability.

The capillaries of his molar regions and nasal appurtenance were engorged with blood which suffused the suboutaneous layers, the former approximating the coloration of albion's floral embelem, the latter that of the prunus avium, or sweet cherry. His amusing sub- and superalabials resembled nothing so much as a common loop knot, and their amdent hirscule facial adornment appeared like small, tabular and columnar crystals of frozen water.

Clenched firmly between his incisors was smoking piece whose gray fumes, forming a tenuous ellipse about his occiput, were suggestive of a decorative seasonal circlet of holly. His visage was wider than it was high, and when he waxed audibly mirthful, his corpulent abdominal region undulated in the manner of impectinated fruit syrup in a hemispherical container.

He was as short, neither more nor less than an obese, jocund, multigenarian gnome, the optical perception of whom rendered me visibly frolicsome despite every effort to refrain from so being. By rapidly lowering and then elevating one eyelid and rotating his head slightly to one side he indicated that trepidation on my part was groundless.

Without utterance and with dispatch, he commenced filling the aforementioned hosiery with various of the aforementioned articles of merchandise extracted from his aforementioned previously dorsally transported cloth receptacle. Upon completion of his task, he executed an abrupt about face, placed a singular manual digit in lateral juxtaposition to his olfactory organ, inclined his cranium forward in a gesture of leave taking, and forthwith effected his egress by renegotiating (in reverse) the smoke passage.

He then propelled himself in a short vector onto his conveyance, directed a musical expulsion of air through his contracted oral sphincter to the antlered quadrupeds among the seed-bearing portions of a common weed. But I overheard his parting exclamation, audible immediately prior to his vehiculation beyond the limits of visibility:


Saturday, December 10, 2005

Serena time

I gotta get out to Acton Bell's and feed the cat. Don't tell on me that I was this late doin' it today.

Happy Saturday everyone!

Friday, December 09, 2005

Let it snow!

We got the most beautiful eight-inch snow last night! Our yard guys have already come and dug us out, so I have no reason not to get out. Husband Niks is usually a stick-in-the-mud, but when it snows, he changes! He loves to be out and about when we have snow.

So we're off and running. I have miles to go and promises to keep.

Have a great day everyone! Especially you kids who got a snow day off from school.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Jamie and me

Jamie Dawn and I were just fooling around, playing with fire with a friend named Frosty. Well, Frosty got too close to the flames. That guy. Remember that Jamie?

It was a nice service.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Same old, same old

Radio question of the day: 35 percent of people who use personal ads, have this in common. What is it?

The other day Light Within blogged about overhearing some young guys complaining about how marriage should be done as a ten-year contract type thing. They reasoned that after ten years a woman would just get boring. Those guys.

I got to thinking about that. So maybe my husband Niks has been bored here for decades! Poor guy. So I went to him and told him about Light's post. I said, "You know if a person is bored, then any change would help relieve that boredom. Like if a person is bored, and someone hits them on the head with a hammer, then the first person wouldn't be bored anymore." I let that sink in a little. Then I said, "Have you ever been bored in our marriage?"

"NO. NO. I've never been bored!" That's what he said. And I believe him 'cause I wasn't holdin' a hammer or anythin' at the time.

So I don't think I've bored him. I think I've sometimes made him worry, and sometimes made him scared of what I was going to do next. Sometimes I've been a tad sneaky. A girl has to be a little sneaky sometimes. He may have found me to be opinionated occasionally. But then again, nah, I'm never opinionated. But I don't think I've been boring. He may feel that I meander around my point, and that when I get to it, it's seldom worth the journey. That Niks.

I got my flu shot today. My arm's a little sore. I'm workin' on how that could be an excuse not to cook dinner tonight. See, now that's a tad sneaky. But what's the alternative? Well, I could say, "Look here buster, I'm not cookin' tonight, so get over it!"

But that would be sorta like implying that I'm the only one who ever cooks dinner around here. Oh. Wait. I am the only person who cooks dinner here. Well, anyway, I just think it looks better if I'm too impaired to cook, instead of too lazy to cook.

If I ever had a point here, I've wandered so far from it, that I've forgotten what it might have been.

Answer: They are married.

I think I'll go cook supper.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Food Pantry Day

Today is my day to volunteer at the Food Pantry in Harrisburg. Plus I had so much trouble with Blogger yesterday that I couldn't read or comment on many blogs, which is the whole point of blogging for me. I never intended to post much. I just like to read your blog.

So that's my excuse for havin' nothin' here today.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Warm enough for ya?

Proof of global warming, don'tcha think?

Radio question of the day:

Other than showering and brushing teeth, when it comes to sex early in the relationship, 78 percent of women would say no if they had not done this recently.

I don't have time to post. I have to run out to Acton Bell's and take care of her cat Serena. Then I have to go take care of dddragon's MIL. So I got stuff to do. Miles to go and promises to keep and all that jazz.

Answer to the question of the day:

Shaved their legs and/or underarms.

Okay, I can see that. Just as long as the guy has shaved his back.

Saturday, December 03, 2005

All dressed up

Back when I was still working in state government, my department had an awards dinner each November. It was a big deal. If you were in management, it was a command performance. You were expected to attend.

The guys just wore a suit. Same as they did everyday to work. In fact most of them just worked late that night and then went straight to whatever hotel had gotten the bid for the dinner that year. When I say "worked late" you understand that means they hung out in a bar shooting the breeze about sports or somethin'. Then their wives would meet them at the dinner.

But for the women it was a trial to figure out what to wear. It was a dressy affair. We mostly wore suits to work, but we had to walk a fine line about dressing up to an evening work function.

You needed to look nice, but you couldn't look sexy. Sexy is not a good look for a woman who hopes to be regarded seriously at work. But the wives could look sexy. They might work, but they worked somewhere else. So the female accountants in my department were in a quandary each year about how to dress, what to wear, etc.

The department wasn't all in one location. I was in the bureau that made policy for the entire department, and the rest of the employees were scattered out in other state departments. They worked for us, but they worked WITH other departments. A budget office is like that. So there were lots of us, but we got together only this one time a year. Well, there was the Christmas party, but that wasn't mandatory.

You guys are always interrupting me. I would naturally go in a straight line when I tell a story. So where was I? Oh. Yeah. Pickin' out a dress.

I don't mind shopping. Especially for me. I went to what passes for a nice store in these parts, and I tried on a bunch of frocks. I finally settled on one that I liked. It wasn't on sale, but I figured, this is for work, so a little bit pricey is okay. I mean, I had a career, right?

This dress was one piece, but looked as if it were three pieces. It had a black skirt, a white blouse, and a red vest with gold embellishment sewn on it. The vest looked like a separate piece that could be removed, but it could NOT be removed. Trust me on that.

I don't know how long ago this was, but it was long enough ago that I was still lookin' pretty good. And I was lookin' pretty good in this dress. So I bought it.

So I go to the big event. I go early enough that I'm there for the cocktail hour and can get the compliments that I deserve on how I look. And I do. Get the compliments. I get a lot of compliments. This is a noticeable dress and I look good in it.

I'm there about 40 minutes, suckin' up the compliments, when in walks my friend Bobbi. She works in a different building and we of course haven't compared notes on dresses. She's wearing my dress. That Bobbi.

Did I mention that it's a noticeable, eye-catching dress? Well, it is. And Bobbi is wearin' it and so am I. We get a lot of ribbing about it. Lots of jokes. Lots of fun for all. 'Cept me and Bobbi are embarrassed. Well, that's life. At least we're friends and all. And I'm at least I'm 40 pounds lighter and the dress looks better on me, so okay. I'll survive.

The big honcho of a state department is the Secretary. The Secretary usually arrives fashionably late for these affairs. In time for dinner, and in time for the awards, but not in time to hobnob with the peons.

The Secretary came in finally, with his younger, lovely wife. I'm sure you've guessed it: She was wearing MY dress. Bobbi's dress. There are three damn identical dresses.

Noticeable dress. The same damn dress. No-way-it-could-be-disguised dress.

Pretty uncomfortable evening after that. I was happy to get home.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Oh, Christmas Tree, oh Christmas tree

Radio question of the day:
95 % of women polled said, when considering a man to date, they would put up with most all the negative qualities a man might have (with exception of bad breath or body order) if the man had this one positive trait.

I'm tryin' to talk myself into getting up from this PC and putting up the Christmas tree. I have a "permanent tree." Not artificial mind you, it's a permanent tree. It's a nice one. They don't call the nice ones, artificial.

I have a love-hate relationship to Christmas trees. I do love them. Love Christmas decorations in general. But I have had some unpleasant Christmas trees.

One year I bought a pre-cut tree at a Christmas tree lot. This tree actually spit needles at me when I walked near it. You could hear the damn thing dropping needles from the next room. I was still vacuuming up those $%L# needles in the spring. It musta been cut in October and sittin' somewhere a long time before Christmas.

Another year I bought a very beautiful, very expensive, flocked "permanent tree." By the time I had assembled that tree I had flocking so far up my nose I couldn't breathe. Flocking was everywhere. In my hair, under my nails, all over my body, all over the living room, in my eyes. That flockin' tree. By the time I had the lights on it, my lungs were stopped up. Didn't put anything else on it. Didn't want lung cancer. I put it out to the curb two days after Christmas. Of course that tree brought on a flurry of vacuuming. Damn flockin' tree.

We've cut trees with the kids, bought trees off of lots, you name it, we've tried it. To know me is to know that I have no tolerance for mess. No kinda mess anywhere. But I do love a Christmas tree. So, I have a problem.

Niks and I used to have arguments every time we put up a live tree. Tryin' to get it straight, etc. So one year I hired a nursery to cut a tree, deliver it and set it up. Looked great. Niks came home from work and was shocked. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Because," I said, "every year we're ready to get divorced after we mess around with the tree."

"What are you talking about?" he said! "We don't fight about the tree!"

Apparently we live in two separate houses. I always had fights with the guy that was living here with me. That Niks. Living with some other babe at Christmas. That takes nerve.

Answer to the question of the day:
If the man was a very good dancer. Take a lesson.