See-saw, Mardi Gras. Got the xmas tree yesterday, two weeks later than usual for us, but saved a bunch on a tree that is still beautiful and fresh. This one is tall and narrow, and right now is wearing a dress of twinkling white lights. Ornaments to follow after supper. I've struggled this year, as usual, to get The Spirit. Hearing Johnathan Winters read/act A Christmas Carol didn't jump start it, nor has the national-feed radio station ("80's, 90's, the new millennium and now!") that started playing carols the Friday after Thanksgiving. Perhaps if it got COLD it might help. The past few years we've decorated the tree to a nice fire in the fireplace. It's 72 right now, so no fire tonite. I haven't even closed the windows yet.
Coop And A Smoke. Working outside helped stave off the black edges that threatened me this morning. Woke grumpy, but two hours spent turning scrap lumber into a nice, expanded chicken roost helped drive them off. Imagine a ladder four feet tall with five rungs almost eight feet long. Lie it on its side, tilt it just a little bit then attach it to the coop walls and you've suddenly got just over one square foot of roosting space for forty chickens. Which is what I'm sneaking up on. It was nice to get out there, cigar clamped in my teeth and make something out of wood. The chickens stood around and pretty much ignored the rasp of a hand saw and the burr of the drill while I sweated and assembled. I guess they were waiting for me to burst into a dozen pieces, spraying corn and grain all over for all the good little hens and roosters.
Scentsational. The cat managed to break a bottle of that super-concentrated room scent Saturday afternoon. Three tiny squirts in the a/c return makes a room smell pleasantly of blue spruce all day. Breaking a two ounce bottle of it makes your head pound like an entire grove of blue spruces fell on your skull and crushed out of you the will to live. Then you puke. So much for the tree in the den casting a gentle scent of Douglas Fir all over the house. Even IT reeks of blue spruce now.
Hail, hail, The Old Gang is defunct. Broken. The Fellowship is scattered, and the fate of all Middle Earth stands upon a...wait a bit...
I realised last night at a near-legendary Xmas party at a friend's parent's house that we've all gone our separate ways, cast to the four winds. One is living in Mississippi and has stopped communicating with the rest of us while she and her new husband return to a simpler kind of life (ie: they're too poor for electricity.) One is Born Again and no longer hangs out with us blasphemous pagan types with our drinking and our swearing and that using of our genitalia. One was stuck this year in Baton Rouge because her assistant (she's a professor) screwed up entering grades in the computer for her. The rest? Who knows? Seen, it seems, but once a year these days it takes almost nothing to sever the last ties. It was sad, but in a way not unexpected, like the passing of a relative who has lingered at Death's door for years, and like that death it also gave some sense of release.
Where's my freaking wheels? No bike yet. The check, as promised by The Good Neighbors at State Farm is still in the mail. So much for my triumphant bursting into the bike store, ordering salespersons about, demanding an even lower price and better financing and a set of floor mats to be thrown into the deal. But the bike I think I've settled on has sat there since late '06, so perhaps she'll wait another week for me. I've already picked out my new helmet. And about five new jackets. And lots of Yamaha accessories. Still no luck with naming her yet. Suggestions?
Tetsuooooooooooo! So why does everything that's going to explode in an anime always swell for just a moment?*
Speaking of cool motorcycles, Weerelephant and I sat down this afternoon and finally watched Akira together. I know, you have to be a little geeky to think this is a genuine Father-Daughter moment, but hey, we'd just spent four minutes in her room singing "When I'm 64" while she watched The Yellow Submarine. It was a cartoon-sharing moment this afternoon, drawn out really slow like it does when the Bad Guy gets shot and bits of cloth and skin and blood go flying out in slow motion. I figure she's been reading (age appropriate) manga comix for years now, and she's fourteen so it's time I introduced her to anime. Next month? Kung fu flicks. Month after that? Golden Age Sci-Fi.**
Okay, so it's time for supper, and there's the merest breath of cold in the night air. Maybe it's going to be cool tonite in spite of it all. Merry xmas, every one.
* For a full discussion of Anime Physics, follow this link Kanada.
** Speaking of--I've come to loathe Keanu Reeves, who thinks he can be Klaatu. What the eff are you people thinking? The Day The Earth Stood Still - The Ripoff Remake!, wherein modern producers and a holier-than-thou director and whole herds of CGI animators suck all the life out of a vibrant, meaningful movie, rightfully one of the jewels in the science fiction movie crown and rehash it into some blockbuster schlock that people will eat up like the pap it is and rave about it. Gods I hate remakes. What's next, Planet of the Apes?
Oh yeah. You arseholes.