Oh, “Fa La La La La !” you said. My bad…or worse, maybe.
“Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, Please to put a penny in the old man’s hat.” Or more like it, at my place, “Christmas is coming. The Walk is on its way. There are way, way too many things for me to do today.” That’s my theme song for this week…and for ,oh, maybe a month or so before this, maybe more months than that. Pandemonium, I calls it ( pandemonium–all demons. That about says it, I’d say).
It’s not even the cats’ fault; they’ve pretty much ignored the Christmas trees–two of them–so far. (Now watch, they’ll be swinging from branch to branch like feline Tarzans since I’ve said this.) They’ve not been real hospitable to the folks who have come in to save me from my folly–cleaning & organizing the house, hanging the wallpaper–newer! Brighter!, Thank you, Doug, thank you, Mary–doing outdoor clean & preen, thank you Bob, ordering stuff online (I would have had to have antiquities hauled in by camel train, were I to attempt this, thanks, Barry.), but they’ve been no worse than usual; they just head upstairs or downstairs and make themselves scarce, which is a blessing in itself. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder“ is an old saying, so, at this rate, I’m gonna really like these cats, if I ever see them in the daylight again.
And in the midst of all this festivity, James A. Garfield is making headway through the football play-off season–Onward and Upward ! we say–with an hour-and-something drive the other night, heading for another long-distance contest this Friday, when I’ll have to leave the estate in the hands of on-site minions who’ve been guarding the “family jewels” so-to-speak(mostly wooden boxes), all day through the Christmas Walk as the visitors “ooh & aah” over the amazing sights within and without (Without a doubt they’re surprised to be able to see out the windows and to check out the secret backyard.). I’ll be having to catch the band bus–actually, I usually ride in the instrument/equipment van; have almost been whalloped by a flying snare drum or two–to go be the “Voice of the Pride”. Apologies to OSU, but in these here parts, we refer to the Garfield Marching Pride as TBDBITL (The Best Durned Band In The Land)–and we do it loudly, even with a “Script GHS” as part of the opening.
Then, of course, the Quiz Bowl competition season is ramping up. New team members are having to get the hang of things, the competition schedule is out, we are getting a new set of buzzers (Thank you Ms Kisabeth) and a set of banners is going up in the gymnasium at the high school, affording the academic achievers the same kind of recognition as athletic ones. It’s only fair, right? Thank you, Mr. Lysiak.
The Trick-or-Treat night last Saturday evening did not help much either. Got back from the Marching Pride’s Pigskin Review and instead of cleaning and putting things away, as I ought to have been doing, I was out on the front porch sliding (It was my Covid-19 delivery method, so that nobody had to get too close while picking up their chocolate rations) miscellaneous treats down to the assortment of “ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night.” Lots o’ cuties showed up too. There was a pair of little girls in yellow chick costumes that made me chuckle; they looked like two marshmallow peeps. I missed the herd of dinosaurs( Do dinosaurs travel in herds? Doesn’t sound scary enough. Ought to be a “terror” of Tyrannosauruses or something.) that was reported to be out and about, but I did see one costume that took me aback for a moment until I figured out how he appeared to be holding his own head in a glass box in front of him. Tricky. Did not have as many takers as sometimes happens for the usual cider and doughnuts offering, but the remainders got distributed around town and I made the very last ones into my own version of bread pudding–chopped them up, of course. You can put in everything but the kitchen sink, practically–I got rid of some over-age bananas, a bunch of dried cranberries,two eggs, some pumpkin pie spice mix, the end of a container of nutmeg and the last of a half gallon of almond milk. Let it sit for a while to soak up all of the liquid, then bake until set. Not bad, if I do say so myself, which I just did.
Anyway, Christmas at the Pesthouse is mine, referencing a Charles Addams cartoon–he’s the guy who originated The Addams Family that was later made into a movie and a TV show. I’ve invited Cousin “It”; he’ll sign autographs , if he comes.
