Rediscovering Potholes

I am happy to say that I am off the roads from my recent visit back up north. I love visiting, I really do; but, it's that pesky return drive that always gets me. I'll tell you something else that almost got me. Potholes. I had forgotten how big and bad the potholes are up there. My sister was shopping like she normally does and dragged me along with her. I guess there was a sale going on at a particular store and you had to be the sixteenth person in line at approximately 9:30 AM on a particular day to get 3% off your fourth item purchased. We were running a bit late and she decided to take a back road behind the south corner of the old strip mall close to her house. I'm not even sure if it was a road or not. We hit every pothole that we could and couldn't see. We hit one hole and the coffee in my cup bounced up and I was able to catch it on the bounce back up from the next pothole. By the time we made it to the store I had a burn on my neck from the seatbelt holding me in place and a very sore tongue that I had bitten somewhere back amongst the potholes. I was a little grumpy by this time. I'm not much of a shopper. My sister just rolled her eyes at me as I started explaining the virtues of living somewhere where potholes are hard to find. As we stood in line waiting for the store to open I asked what item she had been in such a hurry to get that we had to travel through all of those potholes. "Your Christmas present", she said.

Holiday Concerts

I've taken a few days off to travel north into the frigid wastelands of southern Ohio to watch my niece perform in her Christmas school concerts. At least I thought it was supposed to be a Christmas concert? I watched the junior high chorus perform several selections, none of which I have ever heard before. Next, the junior high orchestra performed several melodious tunes that had my sister and I tapping our toes and clapping our hands in unison. You're right, we had never heard of any of those "holiday" selections. When I was in the band and the chorus we played Christmas songs at the Christmas Concert. We played Jingle Bells, Deck the Halls, and of course, ended the program with all singing together We Wish You a Merry Christmas. When the conductor had the orchestra take its final bows I stood up ready to sing my favorite Christmas carol. I was the only one standing and my niece turned to look at me with a look of pure terror on her face as I began the opening verse of We Wish You A Merry Christmas. Everyone turned to look at me and then my sister joined in as we headed into the main chorus. Before you knew it, the whole auditorium joined in and we sang ourselves out of the room. I heard many saying what a good way to end the program. My niece spent the next fifteen minutes explaining that the crazy lady that started the Christmas carol was her Aunt MA Fat Woman from Georgia and that's how they do things in the south.

Another Seen From The Recliner

I’ve done some remodeling around the house lately. It’s not really remodeling, but a moving of stuff from one junk room to the other. As you know I got my Christmas tree recently and it needed to have its own corner of the living room. I was tired of not being able to see my tree from my recliner so I moved my computer desk and all of its associated printers, copiers, fax machines, scanners, photo printer and ipod docking station into a storage unit for the Christmas Holiday Season. Why do I have all of that junk anyway? I don’t use most of it anyway. I guess I have been keeping up with to many Joneses. Anyhow, after much exertion, and rolling up of cables and cords I got everything packed away. I now had a nice empty corner nook for my sparkling new tree. I had to cut the base of the tree as well as several surrounding lower branches off to get it to fit into the Christmas tree stand. My friend helped me to wrestle it upright and we both stepped backed to see if it was crooked or not. Over it went. It was crooked and lopsided. We pushed and pulled, turned it this way, then turned it around and finally decided to just take it inside and set it up. I had plenty of fishing line to tie it to the nail on the wall to ensure that it was perfectly straight. And there it sets. It’s about 8 feet high and there are no branches below 2 feet. This helps to keep the cat from getting to the tree. The cat likes to eat pine needles and has thrown up six times. Whilst maneuvering the tree into the house I threw my back out and haven’t moved from my recliner since. There are no decorations on it—they’re upstairs in the attic. It needs to be watered. (The cat tried to pee on it, but, I don’t think that counts.) I keep hearing noises coming from the tree. Might be a bird? Could be a squirrel? No, I know what it is. It’s that little boy and his family that I didn’t let have the tree mocking me.

O' Christmas Tree

I’ve been going to the same Christmas tree farm for the last fifty years. We're not related but I’ve been such a regular customer that the proprietor of said farm lets me drive the John Deere tractor and wagon to haul my tree in after I have made my selection. For all of you city dwellers that think a Christmas tree farm is something set up on a vacant lot somewhere with a string of lights and overpriced Charlie Brown cedar bushes you’re wrong. An authentic tree farm is where the trees are still in the ground and you take an axe and cut down the tree of your choice. Now, before the tree-huggers start pelting me with bits of holiday fruitcake about the damage that I am causing the environment by chopping down a tree, let it be said that I recycle my tree every year. I take my used tree and drop it in my friend’s lake to give the fish some added protective habitat. I’m been doing that for about five years and I haven’t caught a fish out of that lake since. I usually lose my line several times, probably on one of those dang trees. When I went to get my tree this year I thought I was at the mall. The owner of the farm saw me pull in and waved me over to the John Deere. “Can’t talk now,” he said. “This place is jumping.” He was right. I counted at least 4 pickups, 3 minivans, 2 SUVs, and a brightly colored red mustang. I get the same kind of tree every year. My favorite has always been a white pine. There are several rules when choosing a tree. You have to walk through the entire field, up and down the rows, checking out each tree. I never choose one in the middle. It’s either all the way down at the other end of the field or it’s the very first one I see. In years past, I would take the handsaw and cut it down myself. Something has happened over the years, if I get down on the ground I can’t get back up. No problem, the owner will cut it for me, load it into the wagon, and then let me drive it back to the car. The field was crowded with folks searching for just the perfect tree. A lot of people had already been there; the selection of white pines wasn’t as good as in past years. I had narrowed my choice down to 3 different trees and was trying to decide. I was on the opposite side of the field when an older lady and gentleman sidled up to one of the trees that I was considering. Before I could take one step in that direction, that old man had dropped to his knees and started cutting down my tree. I turned to look toward the other tree that I had been considering and it was gone too. I guess I was going to take the one closest to my car, the very first tree that I had looked at. I started to walk away from my chosen one when I heard something from behind me. It was a little boy that was standing excitedly beside my tree exclaiming that that was the tree he wanted. He didn’t get it. I caught the eye of the owner of the farm and he walked over and asked if I had made my selection. I pointed to my Christmas tree and he chopped it down. The little boy was standing there as his parents walked up to a freshly cut tree stump. They looked at me and I looked at them and then we all looked at the owner of the Christmas tree farm who said this: “Sorry folks, you’re too late; my niece has been watching this tree grow for the past five years.” He looked at me, gave me a wink, and proceeded to carry my new Christmas tree over to my car. Sometimes, it helps to know the owner.

Early Appointments

I went back to the doctor this week. I was only two months past my already past due appointment by about four months. We've already been over the routine that I go through in a past article; but for the newbies, check out July, I think that's where it is. Anyhow, I was back to see the particular doctor that was probably a teacher in a past life because she hands out gold stars if you’ve been doing what you’re supposed to do. I got a gold star which is a good thing. I like to schedule my appointments early in the day. Not the very first appointment, because at 8:00 AM, I’m not really functioning that well. I like to be awake before the poking and prodding begins. Also, the doctors seem to be a little sluggish at that time. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to be wearing that paper gown and hear or see somebody yawn. It might hurt my feelings. After all, you’re sitting there with your business out for everyone to see and people are yawning at you. It might not be that impressive but it ain’t that bad either. I’ve ‘bout worked myself into a fit just thinking about it. Another important fact about early appointments is that you usually get to spend more time with the doctor than the later scheduled ones. The closer to noon or quitting time usually results in visits of ten minutes or less. Of course, that could be a good thing if you don’t like to go to the doctor. I don’t particularly like going to the doctor, but it’s a necessary evil. Where else can you do what you are supposed to be doing and get a gold star? Now, if she would only start awarding monetary prizes.

Ready Made Excuses

Awhile back I mentioned that I don't like to deal with credit card companies over the phone because it's never easy to get them off the phone. Mainly, if you have to call to activate a new card, you always get transferred to a customer service representative halfway across the world that tries to add some sort of protection against fraud or rude sales clerks. (Which might come in handy) Anyhow, several years ago I received one of those satellite radios for my birthday and a one year subscription was included. That first year ended and I have been paying for it by the year ever since. It was interesting and has a lot of good music on it but my system is kind of bulky and I don't really have any space available for it to be utilized on a daily basis. In fact, I haven't listened to it in about six months. I wanted to cancel the subscription sooner but I couldn't find my paperwork. Plus, I hate dealing with those people on the phone. Yesterday, I received an email from the company and it had my account number and a phone number to call for customer care. (Bingo!) They were just letting me know that my credit card was going to be billed in a few weeks and thanks for being a subscriber. (Not anymore) I've cancelled several services and subscriptions over the years and have come up with a ready made excuse that stops the person on the other end of the phone in their tracks. What is it? The MA Fat Woman tells them that she's getting married. By my calculations, I've been married about 12 times. Of course, the person from the company will tell you that you can take your service with you when you get married. I got an answer for that too! Tell them that your new spouse already has the service and you don't need two. So, the next time you have to cancel something try that excuse, it works for me every time.

Here Today Gone Tomorrow

It was relatively warm yesterday but the weatherman said that a massive cold front was approaching and might bring some wintry precipitation to my locality. Have they all gone nuts? Schools were closed. My trip to the grocery store almost resulted in WW III. I had to wrestle a crotchety old man for the last loaf of bread and pry a gallon of milk loose from the grip of a screaming mother with 4-year old triplets. I had to visit my doctor today(Which is another story)and was sitting in one of those small waiting areas when the lady beside me struck up a conversation. As most idle conversations tend to do the topic of the weather was mentioned. That little old lady said she almost didn't come out because of all the snow she had at her house. It turns out she lives about six blocks from me and she had about two inches of snow. I think I might have seen, maybe, two snowflakes. It's all in the eyes of the beholder, I guess. Anyhow, that's what we do in the South. One snowflake can add up to one foot if you talk to the right person. The news crews will come up from Atlanta and put any moron they can find on TV and let them cuss and discuss the potential danger they could face while driving on ice. Well, duh. When we do get any real wintry weather it's usually ice and it has normally melted by the next day. The funny part of all of this is that I have become used to this tradition of running to the store for bread and milk. I watch the Weather Channel for the special weather advisories and I watch the morons on the local news looking to see if I know any of them. Winter weather doesn't happen very often in the south but when it does it is here today and gone tomorrow.