Somewhere that's Green

A Green Christmas?

I'm not talking about ecology, or global warming; I'm also not talking about green as in money, I'm just talking about the color green. I've spent a week seeing nothing but white. Frankly it's a boring color. White hills, white trees, a monochrome blanket of white across my lawn, driveway and house. I feel like I'm stuck in a photo before color.

When I was a child in San Francisco, I would watch TV like most kids and during the holiday season I would see the endless shows displaying snowy landscapes and wonder about it. What was it like, I would ponder, to get a sled for Christmas instead of a bike? Or did those kids get bikes and sleds? It seemed silly to me to ride a bike in the snow, so I assumed they could get a bike but not get to ride it until springtime. I got to ride my bike right away. Of course they got to ride their sleds so things evened out.

After many eggnog's with extra nog my Grandmother would play the piano, and start to badly sing White Christmas. I clearly remember being around 4 and thinking that snow must be really special because everyone was always singing about it. Dreaming of a White Christmas, asking to "please have snow...; Hear the snow crunch...; Walking in a Winter Wonderland...; (I could go on), so, I reasoned, snow is obviously important to having Christmas. My Christmases began feeling incomplete, as though I was being cheated out of such an intricate part of the holiday.

Only the Rudolph song gave me hope, because it specifically mentioned fog. Now fog was something I knew about. I understood fog. I had seen fog cover my house most days and nights in a blanket so damp it would make the power lines crackle. I was comforted by fog. I also understood it could be dangerous, many a day I couldn't see the house across the street from me, and headlights would just cause light to bounce around. That was the tricky thing about driving in fog, you were better off not using headlights, because they would limit your ability to see. However without them, you were greatly diminishing the ability of others on the road from seeing you.

I also understood Rudolph's nose wouldn't be much use to Santa, but whatever; the song was about fog. I know some believe that it was about Rudolph, but without the foggy Christmas Eve, Rudolph with his bright nose would have been sporting a uzi waiting for the other reindeer that picked on him and wouldn't him play their reindeer games to return. A bloodbath would have occurred with Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen's guts sprayed all over the north pole, thereby cancelling Christmas forever. The fog saved Christmas not Rudolph.

But I digress, after a week of seeing nothing but white I'm ready to see green again. I miss it and find now you can keep your snowy landscapes, I'm dreaming of a green Christmas, just like the ones I used to know.

The kids are currently enjoying an extra long winter break, having been off the week before they were officially supposed to be off. I did get most things done but not everything, the rest can wait, I am no longer going to obsess over getting the holiday cards out. If they don't get them until after the holiday, oh well. At least they got one. Between our storms you'll find me cooking and going to the grocery store.


© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Mixed Bag

This and That

It appears the body of Caylee Anthony was found yesterday, I mean what are the chances that it's not? I guess it's possible but I doubt it. I've been thinking a lot about the grandparents, George and Cindy Anthony and how badly I want to smack them. On Wednesday night they appeared on Larry King professing their daughters innocence, what about their granddaughters innocence that was taken much too early? People say they're in denial but that's just an excuse. Cindy Anthony has made excuse after excuse for her psychopathic daughter from day one and I'm tired of it.

She reminds of Scott Peterson's parents saying Scott was framed. By who? Well who knows maybe the satin worshippers that took Lacy also took Caylee...it's as good as a defense as anything. I don't understand a parent that is that so completely blind to the facts that show their child did the unthinkable? I can say if it were my child and I heard all that evidence I wouldn't be saying a word. I'd be mourning, wondering where the fuck I went wrong. I sure as hell wouldn't be telling the press they were wrong. I think in all this there is a much bigger question, if it is the body of Caylee, what will Nancy Grace have to talk about now? Maybe she'll rehash the whole Auruba thing again for a ratings boost.

DOA

At least for now the senate has voted down the Auto Bailout. I'm mixed about this revelation, as I wrote in a previous blog, I hate seeing any company fail and people lose their jobs, but the idea that something is too big to fail is just wrong. We cannot continue to hand out blank checks. Maybe it's time for the auto industry to merge, get the union under control. The truth of the matter is we are capitalists, part of capitalism is that business must evolve to stay competitive. If they don't stay competitive they fail. We can adapt the notion that some companies are too big to fail but honestly is our fault they continued making a product no one wanted to buy? It doesn't matter if it's microwave ovens or cars, if you can't sell it, you shouldn't be making more.

Will a Tree Fall on My House if I Clean it?

Today we're supposed to get our first blast of winter, in the form of wind and rain. Beyond our back yard stands around 20 or more 100 foot plus cedar trees. I worry about them falling on my house so I have this thing I do...I clean my house from top to bottom before the storm hits. I don't know why I do this, but I do. Oh and by the way there is only 13 more days until Christmas.

I was taken aback when I realized it. There is so much still to do and not a lot of time to get it all done, for example I need to pick up a few more things for my mother-in-law, one more thing for father-in-law, write and send christmas cards, mail the pictures to my grandmother in California, and I really should take a few more to send to her.

My card list has been cut waaaaay down to a scant few family members and close friends we actually see or hear from during the year. Everyone else I'm basically cutting out. The only time I hear from these people is when the holidays roll around and while it's nice, I also don't really care. It's not like they say anything, they just sign their name. Some don't even do that, they send out one of those letters that explain why they were too busy all year to pick up a phone and call or send an email or whatever. Everyone must get at least one of those; it's the one with the small picture in the upper corner or as part of header with them all standing in front of a Christmas tree or snowman, wearing matching clothes, holding some sort of prop like a cup of hot cocoa. I know I sound jaded and cynical but I don't care anymore. Just like the people that never bother to send out cards (I'm not talking about people that are older and can't), they've been cut from our list too. So, my list that used to be around 70 long is now dwindled to around 15. That's quite a change.

I guess I'm also a bit homesick.

For Your Viewing Pleasure:



© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Chasing Santa

For the past five Christmases we've lived here each year around the same time, we'd hear the sirens, and someone talking on a loudspeaker wishing everyone in the area a Merry Christmas. When I say sirens I mean lots of sirens as if a 5 alarm fire were burning out of control. I'd hear them but never see them around so I didn't think much about it until the following year and with the same result. One year I recall it was raining so I guess we missed it completely. Another year, I had seen a sign while walking the dog but didn't put it together until...

This year; I saw the sign saying that Santa would be conducting an Operation Santa fundraiser, which is in effect a Fire Fighter parade (I later learned that on our local fire department's website), where they cover the big engines in lights and travel different neighborhoods with sirens blaring and Santa seated on top of one of the engines. It didn't give a time but I knew it happened in the evening. As I stood outside, talking to Piss-boy about the holidays I heard the sirens, and thought DAMN!

I flew into the house yelled for Fredo to get his jacket on, being 8PM the kiddo was already in his jammies, but he complied, putting on his heavy winter coat, and shoes. The boys were in the van while the dog barked out warnings, and I relented yelling for Dumbass to run to the van. He did...if something exciting was happening or if the whole neighborhood was burning to the ground, he wasn't hanging around, he was going with his pack.

I had no idea what they took for donations but I figured cash always works and thankfully this year I had 20 bucks in my wallet.

We drove down the street and saw the firefighters leaving our area, and moving on to the next, which I had no clue where exactly it was, I saw them turn down a street but being behind them...well there wasn't enough room. I whipped around, and turned down a different street, yes I made a couple illegal u-turns, and I'm grateful the cops were busy elsewhere, so I drove down a different street and saw them coming toward me.

I flagged down the lead engine, and they said they'd be thrilled to take the cash (they really need every type of donation they can get especially this year). He said to hold my hand out the window and they'd come by. Fredo was in the back seat ooohing and ahhhing at the massive size of the engines while Dumbass stood beside him poised to attack in case the big vehicles stormed us. As they continued to drive by, the kids waving, and them waving back to us, one vehicle pulled close, it was the HUGE engine covered in lights and carrying Santa, I reached my hand out the window and handed the money to the driver, he held on to my hand for a minute and thanked me for the donation. It felt personal. It felt good.

Finally it feels like Christmas.


© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Black Friday, Karma, and Random Fluff

When Did it Start?

I mean the whole referring to the day after Thanksgiving as Black Friday come from? In the 80's there was a black Monday when the stock market slid like a 500 points or something and markets around the world did the same--not really a good thing. I know some retailers have acted as though the day after Thanksgiving is the most important day for their whole year. But the day after Thanksgiving has also lost it's own magic. It used to have meaning but now it's, I guess just about money. When I was growing up, yes the day after Thanksgiving we'd all pack into the car and head Union Square in San Francisco, where cops would be there directing traffic. However, we were not there to shop, we were there to see all the Christmas decorations. I specifically was there to see Santa. My favorite place was Emporium Capwell's winter wonderland display. To me it represented Christmas with the nut crackers, trains and of course Santa in his own holiday shoppe.

Later when the shopping malls took over, the day after Thanksgiving still held the same meaning, as it was still a time to get your first injection of Christmas. Not to clean up on some good sales, and yes while there were sales, the main focus was going with the family. Not mom or dad, waiting in line all night long trying to score a big screen TV. Maybe I'm just sounding cynical, old and jaded but I don't care for this shift.

Is Black Friday So Important?

75% of people could have gone to the mall the day before Thanksgiving and stayed home on Friday, at least that's what surveys say that most people just look for a bottom bargain and will actually leave the store if they don't find one they wanted, empty handed. However, the weekend before Christmas is the BIG shopping weekend in fact it's the biggest of the season and that is the real crunch time for retailers.

That's the one where you can smell the desperation on people and they no longer care about price, they just want something to put under the tree. Which could explain how I ended up one year with artichoke plates. Or the other year I ended up with fluorescent green hat, scarf, and glove set that were horribly itchy and basically unusable. I won't continue to bore you through the past 24 years of bad holiday gifts. Though, last year my husband did come through with an iPod Nano, but with that said, he does hit the target occasionally. But, you'll just have to trust me that I do know something about the weekend before Christmas; I've got a closet full of bad gifts to prove it. Well that sounded ungrateful, and even a bad gift can be nice, right? The artichoke plates might be used one day.

Karma

Rainbird spent most of the time before Thanksgiving bitching about it, and believe me, I tried using the word complaining but it's just not strong enough. He bitched, everyday, to anyone that would listen to him. He had to deal with his parents, make the stuffing (his family recipe), make the brine (which I could have just as easily did but he figures that's *his* job). And with each task no matter how far in advance he made them, he bitched and moaned.

Then after those tasks were done he started whining and complaining about actual day, making the turkey and planning everything else. I politely reminded him with the exception of putting the bird into and taking the bird out of the oven, his work was done and the rest of the day is mine to deal with. I peeled the potatoes, cooked and whipped them, cleaned and halved the Brussels sprouts then baked, make sure the bread was cut and on the table with butter, cook the stuffing....I also had to set the table, and make the gravy. Now it also needs to be said that since we have just one oven, all those things were done after the turkey was out of the oven.

Ah, but what about that turkey? Firstly it needs to be said that cayenne pepper is NOT the same as paprika. And though he was told several times I was afraid the temperature probe was on the fritz, and he repeatedly informed me I was wrong about that. End result...The turkey was dry. I mean....DRY. Of course it was the probes fault and had nothing to do with his Freudian slips. Though seeing that dry bird placed a lot of pressure on me NOT to screw up the rest of the meal. Which came out darn good.

Friday came with me cleaning the kitchen, a fridge full of left-overs and then annual impending doom of decking the halls. I arranged for Pissboy to drag the box out of the loft area, the big box labeled, Holiday Crap and I dove in. There is something of an art to decorating for the holidays, anyone can just throw more stuff out but I'm a firm believer not doing that because for me, I start feeling claustrophobic. So, I have to decide what stuff gets put away, what stays and where everything else goes. It's a process that takes roughly a whole day, combined with other wifey tasks that need completing, like laundry, general cleaning, menu planning and the like. By Saturday I was left with just cleaning up and moving newly filled boxes back into the garage, but on Saturday I was feeling lazy, so those things were put off until Sunday. Sunday also included the rest of laundry, changing of sheets, washing of towels, folding and putting away and watching the customary chick flick on TV while doing said tasks. It's a time saver for me because it keeps the men away.

Name That Tune

I haven't done one of these for a while so I figured it was time.

What song by the Beatles was the very first that featured George Harrison playing the sitar?

First to answer correctly wins bragging rights and maybe a prize.


© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved

Ho Ho Ho

Is It Wrong?

To be thrilled at the beginning of the holiday rush hour (meaning the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve), and then go to feeling blah about it, to missing it when it's over? Seriously I'm beginning to question my sanity, and my ability to simply go with the flow. I'm just pissed off and I can't stop thinking about new things to piss me off even more. What is up with the freaking car commercials this time of year? BMW, when you buy a new model, will donate to the Make a Wish Foundation. That's a good thing but for craps sake, is that really going to influence anyone it buying it? And I'm sorry but anyone that buys a woman a stupid Dust Buster or fancy vacuum cleaner for Christmas seriously needs help or else there had better be something better buried inside the damn thing. And let me further add if one more thing seemingly goes wrong this holiday, I'll climb up on the roof and shit down the chimney myself.

My husband this year actually gave me an iPod Nano, which I picked out because he wasn't sure what color I'd like. I picked red. Not because of African Aids thing but because I really liked the color. Yes some of the money went to Aids funding in Africa and I'm fine with that. I mean it's not like I paid any more for it. Knowing about the gift ahead of time is somewhat of a good thing because then I know how much to spend on him without being sneaky and checking credit card statements. But I'm also kind of bummed because it kind of takes the surprise out of it. It doesn't kind of take the surprise out of it; it DOES take the surprise out of it.

Now with the boys I'd rather not be surprised, because since they are men in training they consistently buy me the most god-awful gifts that I must pretend to like. Like the year I got a HUGE bottle of some smelly perfume. Then we were watching and rerun episode of some sitcom where the children bought the mom a large bottle of smelly perfume so she wouldn't have to save it for special occasions. My sons beamed at me saying at least they bought me good perfume. I nearly choked. This year, I won't be surprised because I went out and spent 20 bucks on a rocking red purse for myself, as an accessory to my iPod Nano.

I thank the boys profusely for it each time I use it. Yes I'm using it early.

I'd Go To the Mattresses (if they weren't already infested)

A week after Thanksgiving when our weather turned cold, then warm and shit rain for a week (causing huge flooding issues in our region), our fearless (okay he's not so fearless) Dumbass started making rounds around the house. Looking down the heater vents spending lots of time in the kitchen staring at the floor. Yes the middle of the kitchen floor. One morning after waking earlier than normal I heard a sound…like munching and scratching and saw LOTS of insulation in the heating vent.

Yes, Ranter's house again has rodents residing in the basement. We went out and bought rat poison, the kind that comes in individual serving sized bags. We tossed one bag down each heater vent and waited. So far we know for certain one bag has been consumed but several others that were placed in the basement have disappeared all together. I'm not going to question where they have gone to, I just hope they had a good party.

Now, it needs to be said that my big assed 300-pound husband becomes a big pussy when it comes to rodents of any kind. If he were to see one face to face, he'd likely scream like Ned Flanders, and throw the bags of poison at it while trying to run in the opposite direction. This should explain why we don't do traps of any kind. He'd NEVER be able to empty them. I'm sure as hell not going to do it, since I'm supposed to be the one with all the estrogen it's just not in my DNA.

Each evening though the dog (aka Dumbass), goes insane listening, tilting his head and trying to scratch through the floors.

I wonder if I send my older son down into the basement armed with his violin he can lure them away, or scare them out? His practicing is enough to make me want to leave so I wonder if the effect is similar on the rodents?

© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved