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December hath arriveth…

December 1, 2009

Ah, Christmas time. Charlie Brown on the Telly, snowflakes in the air, stress levels on the rise. What a great way to celebrate a birthday.

To be quite serious, there isn’t a snowflake in the air, I’m too busy to watch any Charlie Brown, and the stress around here, which is indeed on the rise, is not at all related to the season. What a downer! Kind of reminds me of the first Christmas season. Here’s teenage Mary, pregnant out of wedlock, and her fiance Joseph, the presumed baby-daddy, trying to plan a trip across the country (probably one that is not within their budget) just so that ol’ Ceasar can get an accurate headcount on a backwater country in his empire. Upon their arrival, they find no sanitary place to stay, no charity, and a bunch of dirty hobos invading their personal space. Talk about stress. What a downer Christmas.

Meanwhile, 2000 years later, we’re too busy dragging out greedy asses out of bed to go shopping at 3:30 AM a month ahead of time to think about the terrible excuse of Christmas music they’re playing these days. What ever happened to “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas?” More like I’m dreaming of a pop culture Christmas. Don’t get me wrong, there are some very good artist out there today, I’m just stating my opinion about their songwriters’ abilities to write new Christmas music.

On a happier note, this is my wife and I’s first Christmas! Living together, anyway. Actually, it’s our first Christmas in the same state. Pretty crazy. Needless to say, the decorations are sparkling.

Have you ever heard of “Owl City?” Being the oblivious and culturally semi-irrelevant type with no radio in my car that I am, I hadn’t heard of this lad until very recently. Evidently he is a Christian insomniac with quite a nack for creating electronic piano tunes. Quite brilliant, actually. My wife and I have grown quite fond of listening to his pieces in the evening.

It’s getting cold outside. I like cold, but generally only when it is accompanied by snow. Or hot soup. I’m already trying (in vain) to convince myself that this winter will go quickly, that spring will be here before you know it…blah blah. It’s going to be forever. Oh well.

Meanwhile, I will keep my toes over the vent and hot soup on hand, relaxing to Owl City as I admire twinkling Christmas decor. Bavo, December. For all your faults, you’re enjoyable yet.


Thanksgiving: Part 1

November 26, 2009

Watching a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with my wife this morning on the couch, I got to thinking…why exactly was Peppermint Pattie so mad that they were eating toast, pretzels, popcorn, and jelly beans (at least, I assume they are jelly beans. They aren’t ever named, so they’re kind of a mystery)? I mean, seriously, that’s a good meal right there.

As I was baking my pumpkin pie, I also began to wonder why we, as humans, love tradition so much. Eating turkey and pie on Thanksgiving, giving presents on Christmas, etc etc. We love our human traditions. Why? Is it the comfort of knowing what lies ahead? The memory of what lies behind? Maybe both.

Walking into a grocery store on Thanksgiving morning in one’s sweat pants to buy spices for one’s wife’s stuffing, one would expect to be the only soul in the store. Shouldn’t everyone be home baking and such? Evidently not. The place was a zoo! Pies were flying off the racks. Is that really the world we’ve come to, running by the store to grab a pie on the way to grandma’s? Are we really too busy to enjoy our holiday? Maybe we are. how sad.

I’m sure I will have a funny story or two tonight, once I get back from grandma’s, but for now, just wanted to leave you with this thought:

Enjoy Thanksgiving!


On the origin of a species…

November 19, 2009

Who, on God’s verdently green earth, decided to beed yorkshire terriers? In case you are not familiar with the breed, allow me to expound for a moment.

The yorkshire terrier originates from England, evidently (God save the Queen), and displays a coat similar in coloring to a rottweiler and in texture to a silky something or other. This particularly small specimen weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 pounds, and bears resemblance to a very dirty mop in the hands of a custodian on speed when awake. When the dog is awake, that is.

Anyway, my wife and I recently acquired such a creature, and since the time of her acquisition I must say our lives have changed somewhat. I rise early in the morning, not to the gentle sound of a silent home, but to a rather obtrusive yipping. Our puppy’s cries could be summarized by the sounds of nails on a chalkboard, an infant’s wail, and the sound of a child beginning his first lesson with the violin. Needless to say, it is somewhat begrudgingly that I rise to take her on her morning trip to the out of doors.

She is not, of course, all pain and suffering for her owners. There is nothing quite like a puppy to make one’s life feel more full. A puppy sees only the very best in its master, which is both refreshing and sobering. It can be scolded for piddling on the mat for a minute straight, and have nothing more to say than a wag of the tail.  It apparently has no end of love for those it chooses to love. This quality, of course, makes it vitrually impossible for one to stay mad at the little dustmop for long.

But anyway, back to the original question: Who on this very green and affable creation decided it would be a good idea to create such a creature? By create, of course I mean breed, but semantics-shmantics. The question remains.

I am forced to conclude the following: Someone, probably a duke or baroness with a rather dank old castle or estate, must have had a need for a rather small kanine to create small puddles, chase feet, and be remarkably pleasing to the eye, all while emitting sounds well within the boundaries of the terms “severe” and “vexing.” Either that, or the runts of the litters of bigger dogs found one another attractive for several generations in a row.

Regardless, my wife and I have one now. Her name is Roxi, by the way. I can’t help but like the little rapscallion, with her bright eyes and needle teeth. Like I said somewhere up above, probably in the paragraph where your mind started to wander, the love she shows me is just too much to not return a little. She brings joy that only a puppy can bring.

I wish I was the person my dog thinks I am.