Santa and Cupid and Pilgrims and Skeletons Should Not Touch Each Other
I really want to put my Christmas music in the cd player but it’s way too early. I heard carols in the supermarket tonight and my whole being cried out, “Too soon! Too soon!” even while I was singing along.
The thing is, when we do things too soon, by the time it’s really TIME, we’re tired of them.
I think we need to separate our holidays again. No more Halloween merchandise rubbing shoulders with Thanksgiving merchandise rubbing shoulders with Christmas merchandise rubbing shoulders with Valentines.
I don’t like to walk down a store aisle and see skulls and sinister ravens touching Pilgrims and cornucopias. I don’t like to see Santa and Cupid touching each other. Tinsel and sparkling ornaments should not be sharing shelf space with fake gourds and orange silk leaf garlands.
Honestly? I think we would all enjoy and appreciate the individual holidays a lot more if the individual holidays were individual. As it is, a lot of the personality of each holiday is gone. Some things should never be mixed together.
And the fact that a real holiday lasts only a little while makes it even more special. The anticipation is most of it, but if we’re pummelled with the prelims for too long, we get tired of it before the actuality even gets here.
Already, I’ve seen lighted trees and decorated houses. Too soon, people. Too soon. The sight of your lights won’t mean anything if we see these things before their time.
Fleeting. That’s what holidays are really meant to be. The warmth and glow stay with us a lot longer if we don’t have to look at the fake glow for too long.
I think we have lost the art of anticipation.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1. . .
I love this.
I went to the dentist this afternoon and just for the record, she is the BEST DENTIST in the world! Not only is she virtually painless, she’s hilarious, and so very, very nice. Thank you, Dr. Alter. You rock. And so does everybody else in your office.
When I asked you if you had any ether, I meant it was just kidding.
We had to replace our old landline phones a few months ago. Our old phones displayed a red blinking light whenever we had voice mail, and I assumed the new phones did, too.
Never ‘assume.’
Sunday night, I mentioned to Hub that we hadn’t had any messages for an awfully long time. Monday afternoon, someone asked me if I’d received the message she’d left. I hadn’t.
When I got home, I looked at the phones. Nothing was blinking, but I dialed the voice mail number anyway and holy SCHEISSE.
Um, if any of you left me a message since the middle of last June these past few weeks, I do apologize for not returning your call.
And now I know that I need to check my voice mail every night.
What if one of those messages had been from Ed McMahon?
Also, if any of my Tuesday morning students are reading this blog, I want to emphasize again that while it is true that I did indeed say “Let’s all go there and GET SOME!” it is also very true that I was referring to the junior shake sale at Steak and Shake. The grins and snickers were understandable, though. No offense taken.
It was one last fling before the dental appointment.
P.S. Upon close examination, these new phones don’t even HAVE any lights on them. My bad.
P.P. S. I hate it when somebody says “My bad.” It’s such a stupid expression.
Pussy
It’s been cold here. I’m wearing socks. (Along with everything else. Sheesh, you guys.)
The tractor has a flat tire.
The riding mower has a broken belt.
The push mower allows itself to be pushed for about ten yards and then it stops again.
My hands hurt because I’ve been mowing with them I’ve been pulling weeds.
There is a large, beautiful, blue-eyed Siamese cat hanging around on my deck. We’ve never seen it around here before so probably some heartless brainless lazy moron who couldn’t be arsed to love it any more drove it out to the boondocks and dumped it out of a moving vehicle and figured it could take care of itself unthinking person just didn’t want it any more and figured somebody somewhere would. People can be so unbelievably stupid when it comes to animals. Anyway, we’ve been feeding it and petting it (it’s really loving and sweet) and if it’s still on the deck tomorrow, we’re taking it to my MIL who has been wanting a Siamese cat for a long time.
We went to Grecco’s – best pizza ever – tonight and across from us was a booth full of very loud, very giggly, VERY silly young teens. They looked to be around thirteen or fourteen holy cow, their boobs were HUGE and they talked like dockworkers and when they left we noticed that one of them had the word “JUICY” written across her ass the back of her pants.
Hub wondered if the little girl realized the message she was sending out; he was sure she didn’t.
As for me, I think she knew exactly what kind of invitation she was sending. And even if she didn’t, her mother certainly did. Her mother probably bought the pants.
Which explains a lot about the state of the nation.
