Friday, December 25, 2015
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Monday, December 21, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Friday, December 18, 2015
Taking over the family business
Today is going to be a weird day for me.
I knew it was coming, just like I knew my alarm clock would blast me out of bed this morning and send me careening toward the inevitable, but that doesn't mean I was looking forward to it.
It takes a special person to wear The Suit, and I'm not sure I'm cut out to be that "special person."
I can get grumpy at times.
Being cheery doesn't seem to be my Number One attribute.
Somedays, because of the depravity men inflict upon there fellow men, my heart is heavy, my soul empty, and I see no reason to make merry or to even smile.
Sure, I can fake it, and there are times when I actually am in great spirits, but doesn't The Big Guy have to be cheery all the time?
Isn't Jolly-ness a prerequisite?
These are some of the questions I've asked myself, never coming up with a clear answer.
Nonetheless, today I will try to set aside all doubt, worry and sadness, and let The Spirit of Christmas be my sword and shield, as my father did before me, and his father before him.
Today I leave home to take over the family business.
Today I am Santa Claus.
I knew it was coming, just like I knew my alarm clock would blast me out of bed this morning and send me careening toward the inevitable, but that doesn't mean I was looking forward to it.
It takes a special person to wear The Suit, and I'm not sure I'm cut out to be that "special person."
I can get grumpy at times.
Being cheery doesn't seem to be my Number One attribute.
Somedays, because of the depravity men inflict upon there fellow men, my heart is heavy, my soul empty, and I see no reason to make merry or to even smile.
Sure, I can fake it, and there are times when I actually am in great spirits, but doesn't The Big Guy have to be cheery all the time?
Isn't Jolly-ness a prerequisite?
These are some of the questions I've asked myself, never coming up with a clear answer.
Nonetheless, today I will try to set aside all doubt, worry and sadness, and let The Spirit of Christmas be my sword and shield, as my father did before me, and his father before him.
Today I leave home to take over the family business.
Today I am Santa Claus.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
Monday, December 14, 2015
I saw a dude in Walmart...
...packing big iron on his hip cuz you know in Texas it's dangerous shopping for root beer and chips.
He seemed a little timid as he walked among the fruit and veggies, like some dangerous illegal avocado might accost him in a foreign tongue and give him a foreign wedgie.
The bread and English muffin aisle looked pretty tame to me, but this dude spied every loaf and tortilla with a wary eye as if it had been radicalized by a just-out-of-prison Rye Bread ready to spread its own brand of misery.
Beans, never trust a bean, you could see it written all over his face, as he scurried past legume and peas looking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed by a chameleon-like not-from-this-world alien race.
He seemed a bit more relaxed as he gathered up his white milk and white eggs, without even bothering to acknowledge the chocolate and brown, those inferior products, the dregs of the dregs.
Finally, at the register, on high alert, he looked ready to slap leather at anyone who even thought about stealing his ready-made Key Lime Pie, giving them their ready-made just desserts.
And then he was out the door, pushing his cart to his trusted loyal truck, me watching this whole ridiculous scene and thinking, "Oh my god," and "What the ....?"
He seemed a little timid as he walked among the fruit and veggies, like some dangerous illegal avocado might accost him in a foreign tongue and give him a foreign wedgie.
The bread and English muffin aisle looked pretty tame to me, but this dude spied every loaf and tortilla with a wary eye as if it had been radicalized by a just-out-of-prison Rye Bread ready to spread its own brand of misery.
Beans, never trust a bean, you could see it written all over his face, as he scurried past legume and peas looking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed by a chameleon-like not-from-this-world alien race.
He seemed a bit more relaxed as he gathered up his white milk and white eggs, without even bothering to acknowledge the chocolate and brown, those inferior products, the dregs of the dregs.
Finally, at the register, on high alert, he looked ready to slap leather at anyone who even thought about stealing his ready-made Key Lime Pie, giving them their ready-made just desserts.
And then he was out the door, pushing his cart to his trusted loyal truck, me watching this whole ridiculous scene and thinking, "Oh my god," and "What the ....?"
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Saturday, December 12, 2015
A poem about Christmas and other stuff
Tennis shoes,
Christmas blues,
Hark the Herald
who lives down some other street
probably singing old songs
and gets along
just fine with everyone he meets.
What Child is This?
All smiles and bliss
cuz she's found a boy
what makes her laugh and grin
like we used to
and at times still do
and hopefully will again.
Leaves on the ground,
Rockin' Around
the Christmas Tree
leaning slightly left but all decked out
with balls and lights,
a cat's delight,
the trick is to remain calm and not shout.
Warm day
the weathermen say
a White Christmas
for us this year there's little chance,
but that's just a guess,
our climate's a mess,
one day we're wearing shorts, the next day ski pants.
Nutcracker Suite,
this poem's complete
with five stanzas
that more or less describe where I'm sitting,
this Saturday noon
gone away way too soon,
and now it's some eggnog I'm getting.
Christmas blues,
Hark the Herald
who lives down some other street
probably singing old songs
and gets along
just fine with everyone he meets.
What Child is This?
All smiles and bliss
cuz she's found a boy
what makes her laugh and grin
like we used to
and at times still do
and hopefully will again.
Leaves on the ground,
Rockin' Around
the Christmas Tree
leaning slightly left but all decked out
with balls and lights,
a cat's delight,
the trick is to remain calm and not shout.
Warm day
the weathermen say
a White Christmas
for us this year there's little chance,
but that's just a guess,
our climate's a mess,
one day we're wearing shorts, the next day ski pants.
Nutcracker Suite,
this poem's complete
with five stanzas
that more or less describe where I'm sitting,
this Saturday noon
gone away way too soon,
and now it's some eggnog I'm getting.
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Monday, December 7, 2015
Thursday, December 3, 2015
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