Tonight is Wednesday and that means West Wing. I seem to have lost that loving feeling. I think the show is still intelligent, it’s still funny, but it is off a beat to me now. It has got to be the whole no Aaron Sorkin thing. I’m afraid that after this season I won’t be back. And with that it will mean I watch no regularly scheduled network TV program. The end of an era and I’m sure they will miss me. đŸ˜‰
It is Sunday and it is wash day (actually, almost everyday is a wash day, but Sunday is always a wash day.) There were enough clothes to do 2-1/4 loads of wash, but not wanting to do any more than necessary, Donna stuffed the baskets to make just 2 loads. In doing so, we lost tight control on the color/white separation, which usually is not a problem. Being as it still close to Christmas some new stuff was being washed, and my new white turtle neck got in the same load as Donna’s new red flannel sleep pants. The turtleneck is now a very light shade of pink. I guess if I just wear it under a red sweater it won’t look to bad….
The other day when I was in Borders they had their bargain hardcover books on further sale by letting you get 3 for the price of 2. (Right here is where I’d link you to the post where I discussed the original purchase, but its gone with the wind, sigh.) As I usually do I bought 3 pulp fiction books, a Robert B. Parker, a Stuart Woods and some other book about a female lawyer.
1. Widow’s Walk
2. Orchid Blues
3. Courting Trouble
I of course read the Spenser book first because I sure wish I was a tough guy like him. Next came Stuart Woods, this was a newer character for him a female police chief in FLA, not the NY cop guy (although he makes a cameo.) In both books the writers used a term that seems so 50’s to me, but maybe if I was a drinking man the phrase wouldn’t seem so quaint, heck I’d probably use it whenever some one asked if I wanted a cocktail. “Sure,” I’d say, “The sun is over the yardarm.” The reason I’m disappointed, is that that phrase didn’t work its way into the third book, I guess that is what I get for trying something new…
This morning while sitting in a stall at work (I always go at work. Why do it at home when you can get paid for it?) I noticed a fingernail clipping laying near my shoe. At first, I was somewhat repulsed, but then marveled at the nicely symmetrical nature of the clipping. It was kind of large, so it must have been a thumb….crap! Did it just move? Naw, I must be hallucinating. No wait, there it goes again. WTF? It is then I notice that there is a tiny little ant under one end. He is valiantly trying to get that sucker back to all his buddies back in Antville. First he swings it one way, then back another. He is struggling mightily. I watch transfixed for a couple of minutes while he makes very little organized progress, he keeps at it, so there must be some good food stuck to the nail. My business is finished, so I leave the ant to his. That was much more entertaining than the occasional folded up sports page….
We went out today and burned up the gift cards received for Xmas (and some of our own ready cash as well.) Started at 6:30 AM with breakfast at Best Bagels and then we hit the After Christmas sales. First up was Lowes to see about a prelighted Christmas tree, no go. All they had left were 12′ trees and we don’t have a ceiling that high. We shopped Aiken and then we headed over to the big town of Augusta. We were not successful on the tree front, struck out on Christmas salt & pepper shakers, but did manage to get next year’s cards and some various sundry items at half price.
Didn’t seem like there was that many people out or stores open or merchandise left over this year as there has been the last few years.
I did snag some hardcover books at Borders. They had a “Buy 2 Bargain Books and Get a 3rd Free” thing happening and I’m a wait until they are as cheap as paperbacks kinda a guy.
Already halfway through “Widow’s Walk” by Robert B. Parker. Probably finish it tonight, the Spenser books are such easy reads. Like eating a whole bag of potato chips, slick, salty, not really good for you, but definitely a pleasure.
Please accept — with no obligation, implied or implicit — my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable tradition of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your preference. In addition, please enjoy a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2004.
*Stolen directly from Brian Damage
or Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas
by Major Henry Livingston Jr. (1748-1828)
(previously believed to be by Clement Clarke Moore)
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, DASHER! now, DANCER! now, PRANCER and VIXEN!
On, COMET! on CUPID! on, DONDER and BLITZEN!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!”