Chunks of temptation

I'm getting that old itch again.

Shuffling along in my clunky shearling things, cheeks rosy from cold or liquor, the hunks of plowed snow are looking more and more attractive...

Attractive for kickin', that is.

I just got out of a Doctors appointment where I was told that the running injury I worried was something terrible (stress fracture, avulsion fracture, bone-sucking parasite), is probably just bursitis. Bursitis? What am I, 76? Hope it's not a bad season for gout! Actually, gout's no joke, I didn't mean to be glib.

I was told I could run as long as I was alright with the pain.
Alright with it - I love it!

So, I'm feeling a wee bit invulnerable, and more than a little cocky.
I mean, it's unlikely that I'll break another toe this year. Isn't it? Isn't it?

The Real Slim Shady

Hebreminem.

'Tis the Season

I don't know what your stovetop looks like this time of year, but mine reflects the joy of the season - Finals!

What it takes:
Sliders
Post-Its
Tylenol
Candy Corn


Candy corn?? Isn't it December? I have no idea how that got in my pocket - testament to my complete lack of awareness.

Just right

It's the most perfect night for paper-writing...the snow is falling fast, and I have no where to go. The Christmas Tree twinkles, the couch is comfy, and the wireless is speedy.

There is plenty of tea (and a fresh carton of cream, doncha know), and the dogs and cats and rabbit and doctor are finally settled down in a big pile. Sigh. It's lovely, though a bit soporific.


Look again if you haven't yet - see the extra head?

Aahh...

Just before closing, as the snow was turning to ice, we pulled into Flatsnoot's World Headquarters on Washtenaw, West of 23. Duke found us wandering among the Douglas Firs, and I told him the whole story. He laughed, said he was glad we'd found him, to take our time, and to come in for a nip when we'd chosen our tree. We each got a sweet little dixie cup of Hot Damn, paid our bit, and were on our way with smiles on our iced faces.

Alexis picked a pudgy little tree that takes up about 1/3 of our living room. We were too tired to start on the lights yesterday, so I decorated it temporarily with my wool socks. Looks quite festive, actually.

Break on through

We finally did it - we have a whole house...and a downstairs bathroom!



(Alexis did almost everything, but she let me pull off the last board.)


Center...breath quiet like the wind through the trees.


Punch-Style Kung Fu


Re-center your chi.


You were a good wall.


Just kidding! We've always hated you.


Return to the womb.

Alissa saves Christmas

Date: Fri, 2 Dec 2005 16:59:58 -0500
Subject: Flatsnoots

They're over by me, in the Arbor Farms/Ace Hardware parking lot. I LOVE them. Got cinnamon schnapps last year.

************

Oh, yay!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!

(We actually drove around a bit this evening trying to find them.)

Well, what do we do now?

Damnit.

Our Christmas Tree guys aren't here this year. Usually they show up a bit before Thanksgiving, and I just kept telling myself that they were late. I'm wondering if Duke's sick, but I can't find anything about it...he calls his business "Flat-Snoot's Trees" - his nickname after his broken and mis-set nose. Every year, on the Plymouth Road lot, they string lights, play music, and live for the month in their ancient trailer.



If you were lucky enough to get invited inside, you'd be hit by the warmth of a huge open-flame heater, and a half-dozen unshaved UPers in various states of Carhatt-bedecked undress, offering Egg-Nog shooters. Last year, the boys were abstemious when I arrived, but my gentle reminder had them quickly bringing out the nog, and whatever the hell they put in it. We toasted the season several times in front of a cheery propane fire as the wind whipped the snow around the parking lot.

This, my friends, is a Christmas experience, and I'm heartbroken to be missing it.

Cheers to you, guys, wherever you've landed.

I finally get it

Why Detroit re-elected its hooker-killin', Lincoln-swindlin', party-boy mayor: dude is huge.

I've seen him on TV, and it's pretty obvious he's taller than everyone else, but up close he's gargantuan. You begin to understand why, when the beleagured city had his balls to the wall, and had the right and responsibility to question him about his public wrong-doings, all they could stutter out was: "How ya like it daddy?"

I mean, I almost asked it myself during Q & A.

Ah, me...Kwame.



FYI - my name's in the song, listen for it next time.