Sugar Bombs and Other Fluff

The morning light here on the Neck, here in my little Valhalla home is stunning. Just mind bendingly awesome (in both the traditional and Valley Girl meanings of that word) -- just magnificent.

And, better still, it puts Rod Stewart’s raspy, sexy voice in my head.

Wake up maggie I think I got something to say to you
Its late september and I really should be back at school
I know I keep you amused but I feel I'm being used
Oh Maggie I couldn't have tried any more
You lured me away from home just to save you from being alone
You stole my heart and that's what really hurt

The morning sun when it's in your face really shows your age
But that don't worry me none in my eyes you're everything

yep, doesn’t take more than a word or two to start a tune spinning on the old internal turntable.

AWESOME and shit.

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The Amazing Bob and I were grocery shopping yesterday, strolling down the cereal aisle when I spotted this (below left). Jesus, why don’t they just call it Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs a la Calvin and Hobbes and be done with it?

My mother would occasionally give in and buy us Captain Crunch. I loved that shit.

You know, I would have been a hard core, no fun madre. Not a Tiger Mother, mind you, but I would never have bought this crap no matter how much the kiddles begged and cried. Nope, it would’ve been organic flax, pumpkin oatmeal with extra fruit all the way.
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On the other hand, y’all know I’m the paragon of complete cat doormat-dom.

Yup. This morning both Coco and Rocco didn’t cotton to the brekkie I’d dished up. What’d I do? Tried switching bowls -- maybe they’d like each other’s food. Nope. No such luck.

So I broke out the tuna and treats. BUT there will be no cartoons for them this morning until they clean their room and solve for Pi. Dammit.
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Yesterday was TAB’s birthday. My dear honey pie turned 6 dozen years old and is now, officially, a geezer. We (Jen, Oni, Kevin {Oni’s brother} and I) celebrated by hitting Saint Fratelli’s hard (chocolate drizzle cake and half moons), getting take out from Bistro Chi (BEST Chinese food in Quincy!) and playing Scrabble. Our brand of Scrabble where we don’t keep score. Creativity and interesting words are the goal AND having a Dada-ist sensibility is applauded.

A grand time was had by all. Oh yeah, one other way we jubilated -- no nagging. TAB was free from my hectoring for a whole day! I advised him not to get too used to that.
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When did your folks toss the tree after Christmas? I believe my father, it was a dad’s gig of course, got around to it by end of January. Maybe early February.

It always surprises and saddens me a bit to see the denuded, save a strand or 3 of tinsel, trees at the curb. On the sidewalks ‘round here, there was a regular forest of the poor things just a sun up or two after the big day. That felt really abrupt.

What really scorched my hide was seeing them stuffed into plastic garbage bags. What an ignominious, tragically thoughtless way to be sluffed off. The dead fir’s been tarted up like a Saturday night floozy, given parents and progeny joy and delight and then ends up in a plastic bag? Honestly, wasn’t it bad enough to have been party to deforesting the planet. Now the poor dear can’t properly, expediently degrade.

Good news -- I’ve seen far fewer trees in plastic (sounds like an arboreal fetish, eh?) this year than previously.

Check out the National Christmas Tree Association’s site for great tree recycling tips.

After the holidays, don’t throw your Real Christmas Tree in the trash or set it on the curb. Real Christmas Trees are biodegradable, which means they can be easily reused or recycled for mulch and other purposes.

OK, done ranting and rambling.

Happy Weekend!