Nov 23, 2006

A Holiday Vacation Sampler

I'd suggest the dark chocolate bits, and that you skip the one called "Crunchy Frog." Not good at all.

So. I've been seriously off my pace since my post Monday, and thanx to the MIL for pointing this out. *lol* Now that she's a regular reader again, I guess I need to get off my turkey-and-dressing-stuffed arse and catch you guys up.



Skull-Headed Neon Ghost Moth

I hate Hocus Pocus Liquor. Somehow this store has achieved an almost legendary status in and around the state. Seems their skull-headed ghost moth neon logo was on an album cover or something, and unsurprisingly a Blingo search didn't turn up a picture of the sign, so I guess I'll have to drag-arse down to Lower Third and snap a pic for you guys.

So anyway, I learned to hate these folks because they have a humidor and don't know a cigar from their arseholes. I found myself in the lamentable state of having ZERO smokes in my humidor at home, and instead of bringing one of my beloved pipes and having nothing for the host, hostess and guests, I had to travel to this cursed place.

I always try to bring a nice handful of cigars to hand around for post-prandial relaxation at these gatherings, and the last time I was at H.P. about two years ago I was really put out by their very unprofessional staff and their behaviour, so I boycotted them. Successfully until Tuesday, when I realised I was tobacco-free.

Long story short, stepping into the humidor I found myself not only helping a gent make a selection for his friend but I also saved the 19 year old snot-nosed git of a cashier's arse by SPEAKING to the customer AND sold the store a $150 box of smokes.

I hate myself sometime.

But, I got some good smokes, and the boycott is not only back on it's been reinforced. I hate Lowe's because you can't find help and if you do find help they're helpless...I never thought I'd find the same thing at a tobacco retailer.

Oh, and if you want cigars? Go online. Thompson Cigars, based, I think, out of Florida, has everything and then some, and you don't have to deal with an acne-ridden waste of good oxygen to find what you want/need/desire.

As Ye Sow

So shall ye reap. That's how that old saw goes, and speaking of saws that makes me think of trees. Which I planted today. Wednesday, that is. See, I'm having to cover Tues through today with one post. Sorry.

I have a large acreage behind the house, which I affectionately call "Oh Shit I've Got To Mow AGAIN?" In the interests of having a nice place for my daughter to build a house in fifteen or twenty years and also in the interest of maybe killing some of that grass, I have been planting trees there over the past decade. Well, my daughter's future well-being and happiness is one reason. The other is that I'm hoping to gain points back as sort of karmic return for setting that insanely large wildfire in Cali.

Oaks, crepe myrtles, pecan, magnolias, whatever seizes my demented fantasy is fair game for being planted in my field. And since I still didn't have enough ground covered in treeage, I went to a local Choctaw Indian lady (full blood, there's a whole post in itself about her) who raises trees professionally and bought fifty long-leaf pine seedlings from her for a whopping $10 donation to the cause. See, I'm small fry. Her next customer wanted ONE HUNDRED FIFTY THOUSAND of them. Made me feel quite inadequate.

That purchase, unfortunately, led me to the realisation that I had to cut the field so I could SEE where I was planting, so a very chilly Wednesday morning was spent herding my antique tractor around, cutting grass for three hours so I could spend my afternoon hustling my almost brand new lawn tractor and trailer around, filled with my thirty pound planting stake (an iron crowbar with a pointed end,) a box of pine seedlings, a ditch blade, an even hundred of those little pink construction flags, limb loppers (in case I came across any limbs needing lopping) and gloves. Gloves in which is a whole OTHER post about Home Depot and their new self-checkout registers, but I digress.)

Four hours and a dozen mosquitoe bites later I had fifty tiny green sprigs of long-leaf pine sticking up gamely over the raggled brown edges of freshly-mown almost dead smutgrass. In twenty years perhaps a few will have survived and I'll have not only less mowing to do but a lot more deciduous obstacles to swerve around.

Yay swerving!



Turnkey Day:

Aaah, fun all around. Usually we have lunch at me sainted Mum's house, then dinner at the MILs house because she lets us all drink and play cards and stay up all night, but this year things worked out a little differently. This year my Mom's people all decided that they had somewhere else to be, and the MIL has HER in-laws in from Buffalo, NY, so things got shuffled a bit. It was strange, in a way, not celebrating the festival with ALL the family here, then ALL the extra family there, but it was nice in a way. It's not always bad to shuffle up tradition, or it starts to get a little mouldy around the edges and smell funny.

So, it was three turkeys and a monstrous delicious spread at the in-laws house for lunch, fine tobacco and wines after, and good conversation. Everyone was well-behaved and almost civil, which I think is all that ANY family in it's right mind can ask for during a large family gathering.

With that in mind, I feel another serving of sweet potatoes and dark meat turkey calling my name.

Happy holidays, my dear friends.

5 comments:

Stucco said...

Irr, in the spirit of wishing you well on Thanksgiving, I'll not harrangue you over the use of "post-prandial" (this is not helping abate Pants and her "doppelganger theory" about you and me.

Cheers,

Stucco and family

Nancy Dancehall said...

I've never seen the two of you in the same place at the same time, now have I?

I rest my case.

Irrelephant said...

Harangue away, Stucco! More fuel for the fire! *lol*

Nancy Dancy dear, I think you need to look at the May 17th, 1918 edition of the New York Times. On page 7 you'll clearly see Stucco and I standing side by side in a small inset photo of Al's Wharfside Bar in Greenwich Village. I'm the one in the dashing straw boater and the grey worsted, Stucco is wearing the derby and the waistcoat, with his arms around a dancing girl Proof positive that we are not one and the same.

Nancy Dancehall said...

Oh yeah. I forgot about that photo. Who do you think the dancing girl was? ;-)

Irrelephant said...

Uhm...Amelia Earhardt?