November 2004 Archives

We had a splendid Thanksgiving, kind of like eating a funnel cake and then riding a rollercoaster until you puke. Spending time with the Petite Filet's family was good, but all three of us were feeling beneath the already crummy weather. So nice to be home. We'd planned to head back on Monday, but we were ready to put rubber to asphalt by Sunday morning. So we split.

I spent my entire Monday in my pajamas, including picking up the dog at our friends' house and getting some basics at Wal-Mart. Of course, it was so cold I was wearing two layers on top of my PJs. The PF slept all day, and me and the Cutlet (who's feeling better) played and watched a coupla videos. I also did some laundry and felt good enough to cook (my momma's spaghetti sauce and a pot roast, which pretty much cooked itself).

My lingering state of Medicine Head has given me a foggy sort of clarity. I see some things in sharp focus, and the rest of it has a fuzzy halo around it (much like my eyesight without glasses ... stupid astigmatism!). So, here's a list, albeit sort of random and useless ...

Just the other day, I cooked a grilled cheese sandwich for the Cutlet and was, of course, reminded of the woman trying to sell her grilled cheese sandwich on e-Bay because she says an image of the Virgin Mary appeared on it. What's even dumber is that, after e-Bay took the item off the auction block and then returned it, bids have reached at least $16,000.

Here's why this is really dumb:

Here's a little advice on how to survive Thanksgiving, which is Nov. 25.

This will be the first time in three years that I can travel for the Thanksgiving holiday. That hasn't been the biggest of deals because my parents and sister live nearby. However, anyone who's married knows that once you've tied the knot, you're suddenly "related" to a bunch of strangers you must also visit. This will be one of those years.

I used to work for an Evil Retail Empire, which forced me to work the Fridays after Thanksgiving despite the fact that I worked in advertising and had zilcho to do that day. Nonetheless, now I'm free from those bonds.

Having spent once previous Thanksgiving with the Petite Filet's family, I know now how to conduct myself in a manner that guarantees a) I won't be disowned by anyone and b) my pants will still fit afterward:

Maybe it's time to stop working for da man and start my own business. Whether or not the time is right, I've got snappy (or stupid) names picked out for the possibilities.

If I had a used drum store, I'd call it ...

Those of us who observe the Americanized holidays are about to be launched into the hustle and bustle of the season. For some reason, we're all supposed to get busier all of a sudden and be filled with good cheer and good will toward all. Maybe it's (for most of us) dealing with harsher weather, or maybe the reason for the season is such that friendliness and optimism are just bound to happen. Nobody gets hurt if, like a fat man in a red suit stuck in a chimney, we don't make an ash of ourselves (or our elves).

I heard that for those of us with wee ones, there's a toy shortage brewing for "the most popular toys in the universe for this year." Apparently, a logjam at a hustling and bustling California port means Bratz dolls and the like are stranded shipboard. Oh, sweet solutions ...

Unlike the female of the species, most males aren't that fond of shoe shopping. I enjoy a fresh pair of footwear just as much as the next person — but the process of selecting it isn't my favorite. It either involves helping myself to rows and rows of boxes, or having someone else try to touch my foot.

My attitude stems from a few facts ...

I've tried to turn from my formerly crude ways, but sometimes they pop back up in diminished form. Forgive this transgression (or don't, whatever), but a thought popped back into my head while I was showering this morning.

As a teen (in my budding crude days) I thought that a "Triple S" would prepare me for just about anything: school, date, job interview, riding a rollercoaster etc. Whatever I was to face, I'd be ready. What is a Triple S?

If Plato or Socrates had ever mowed a lawn, I bet the time spent doing it would be their most contemplative. It doesn't take a lot of brain power, and the activity is perfect for letting the mind wander. My "philosophical" questions ranged from leftovertures from the recent politic arena to rather dumb questions such as, "What color are emotions?"

Color itself is subjective. The colors we attach to emotions – if we are even of a visual mind to do so – are probably just as varied. Here's my examples:

If I was running for president, I wouldn't be dumb enough to make these sorts of campaign promises. If I was trying to change the world, however, here's what I'd be attempting to accomplish ...

Let's back up and talk about the most important event of the season – Halloween. Or, for we churchgoing folk, "Fall Festival," "Pumpkin Patch" or "Haybale-themed Autumnal Party."

The Petite Filet, Cutlet and I dressed as instantly recognizable characters who are immediately comic and endearing. Yes, it's been done before. It's easy because there aren't too many special props needed for the said costumes. However, it was appauling how few kiddos at "Pumpkin Patch" knew who we were. Don't their schools teach the four R's? Reading, 'Riting, 'Rithmatic and ...

I didn't have the chance to do so early, so I cast my ballot this morning before heading to work. It was raining as I walked into the middle school that was my polling place today, much like the first time I voted in a major election in 1992 (I remember it well). But I'm a much different person than that eager 19-year-old. Some ways the same, of course. I still have a terrific singing voice and the ability to scale tall buildings in a single bound.

Yes, U.S. citizens 18 and older have that right to vote. That is an awesome right to have, one that is more inclusive and goes beyond what our country was founded on. Still, I stick by an earlier post that questions whether everyone should vote. I'm most perplexed by anyone who this very day calls him or herself an "undecided voter."