Since Christmas

Ramblings Post #211
Christmas stopped being the first kind of Christmas when I realized that Santa wasn't actually a real person, and that my cousin was incorrect about the pepper in your eyes thing if you saw him. Then Christmas stopped being the second kind of Christmas when my outgoing exceeded my incoming, which meant I'd assumed the role of Santa and I was short reindeer and elves. The third kind of Christmas, I'm starting to wonder about. That's one where you simply celebrate the spirit of the season and you hope that they really were lying the first time, because you could use a real Santa right about now.

Let's Recap the past few days...

Rode down to see the folks, and about forty miles from my parents house the car just stops running. I mean, no warning, no dramatic puff of black smoke or loud wrenching noises, just rolling along one minute and then nothing. I roll to a stop on the ramp from I-20 to I-26. This is Christmas Eve.

After it's off the road, because nobody really wants to fix my car on Christmas day, I end up spending a nice quiet day with the folks. We go see my grandparents, who are finally starting to look old. Technically, my grandparents were old when I was born, but they never looked or acted it. My grandfather worked in the fields and doing odd jobs until about two years ago...when they made him stop driving. I saw him at Thanksgiving and he looked like a shadow of the man who in his sixties told me, a high school football player, to go ahead and take a break and after I could help him finish digging the ditch. Now he looks ...like an old man. Mortality punches you in the mouth.

The day after Christmas I get the car towed to a garage, and lo and behold its the timing belt. There are probably a half dozen other things wrong with it, but the one stopping it from getting me from A to B is the timing belt. Which is not a one day job. So I rent a car while he fixes it and ride back to Atlanta because I have prep for the February bar exam. Which both terrifies and comforts me.

This  whole back and forth thing is a horrible plan, because it involves me driving back to my hometown, and then back to Atlanta twice in one week. This one right here, is not a big fan of driving.

For the trip back, because the car place only opens for three hours on Saturday, I have to be up and rolling before dawn. Then, because my grandfather actually being old ...which is kinda a shock to everyone... my uncle decided to ride down with me so he could visit. Which made for at least an interesting ride. I picked him up at 5am and on the way down he regaled me with stories of about his job, his health, and his next get rich quick scheme before he fell asleep. Then on the way back, the longer he rode in my car, the more he wanted to fix all the other stuff that was wrong with it. 

Since my return, it's been one event after another, first a little house party, then a drop in for the last games of the NFL regular season. Both were held in very nice houses, very nice...and so I've set my goal of 24 months to be in one. Goals baby...Goals! And at the last one I even got free tickets a NYE event! Still might not go though. Not really feeling it.

Barkeep...let's finish out the year with Bookers, a splash of sprite and a bit of lime.

The Holiday Weekend

Ramblings Post #173
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening, something something, hear them ringing, we're riding tonight, I don't think this is right, walking in a winter wonderland. We mess around a build a snowman, then pretend that he is Parson Brown, he ask are you married, we'll say "no man, but you can do the job if you're in town," something something, dum de do, something something, hum hum hum, something night, walking in a winter wonderland.


I hadn't been home to see the folks in ages. Seriously, ages. We speak on the phone weekly, but for some reason that three hour trip has been harder and harder to square these past few years. Maybe because I'm a little scared that all the stuff I left won't be there when I get back. Scared maybe too strong a term, maybe "actively concerned." But after I didn't head down for Thanksgiving due to my enhanced educational situation, I felt compelled to head down for Christmas.

The Trip.

I live in a bubble, that is Atlanta. What I mean is that when social tension rears its head, it's a sudden reminder of things that happen so rarely I'd casually forgotten the caustic nature of their reality. No, it's not that I forget I'm black, in the south, it's that it's either usually not an issue or I've already taken the steps to minimize it. So when two guys started yelling at each other over a gas pump when I stopped for fuel it took me by surprise.

I'd pulled up, swiped my card and was gassing up. The lady at the next pump smiled at me and then I heard somebody yell loudly. Two pumps over a black guy was yelling at a middle aged white guy in a jeep. My trouble radar didn't go off, so I just watched silently. The black guy was fueling up, the jeep pulled off and I thought it was over. Then the black guy, middle aged black guy, yelled something and the jeep owner stuck his head out of the window and yelled back. At this point, the lady at the next pump dashed over to the black guy to calm him down. Seriously. Random black woman intervenes to keep random black man from doing something stupid.

The driver of the jeep pulls out of the station and goes across the street, so the whole thing diffused itself in a long fifteen seconds. I took note of the other odd couple in front of the station watching the whole exchange. The elderly white farmer in overalls and the young black man with dreads who after the jeep had pulled off looked at each other and shrugged.

I guess you never know. But then I probably should.

The Grand Folks.

I'm lucky enough that two of my grandparents have made it into their 90's. My mother's parents died when I was too young to feel the full effect, but I remember my mother's father as a kindly old gent who smoked a mean cigar and was always happy to comp us the bubble gum at his store.

My living grandparents are a lively bunch for old people, although my grandmother has been trying to guilt me into marriage and great-grandson for almost 20 years. She has other great grandchildren, many other great grandchildren, but the question of me always seems to come up. I like to believe every one of the grandkids still "holding" get this treatment, but I don't think so. My grandfather is planning on buying a golf cart so he cand drive around his property since he can't get around like he used to...when he was 80.

You hate to think that one day they won't be around. But then I think I've been blessed in this area more than I realized.

Christmas Day

Quiet. Family. A smattering of gifts but mostly just relaxing.

Hit Sporty up. Sent out a few Holiday texts.

Then driving back to Atlanta, because it's nice to have the stuff you left in your house still be inside your house when you get back. Driving back in the rain. Listening to the Christmas music...and the odd old school hip hop mix on some station out of Augusta.

The Day After Christmas

I had planned on relaxing and consuming enough water to clean my system out after the huge meals I'd eaten over the weekend. Well, that was the plan when I went to sleep Sunday night. Didn't work out.

Had a hearty All-Star at the Waffle House with my brother as I delivered his gifts to him. My brother is in a long term relationship, which has established its own Christmas rituals, so he didn't make the trip. I probably need to do the same myself soon. But that meal put me in back in the bed until dark...so like 4pm or so. Then trouble called. Or rather, my psuedo cousin did.

We rode over to a house party of a one of his buddies to watch the Falcons-Saints game. Not my usual fare, but I guess it will be soon, with small kids running about while the adults watched football and noshed. I have a problem drinking in front of kids, so I had a lot of soda and ate a lot of wings. And I've found that if the Cowboys aren't playing when something goes wrong or a coach does something stupid I can keep watching instead of cursing through the next three plays and turning off the TV before I start throwing things. So I watched and gave color analysis to the surprisingly underage crowd before calling it a night right after the whistle blew.

So It was a good Holiday weekend.

Kinda.

Barkeep, some of that Pale Moon beer or whatever it was they were drinking last night that I couldn't.

How do you know it's Christmas

Ramblings Post # 172
The Holidays are upon us. Well, they've been upon us for a minute, but since I just turned my paper in on Monday they didn't start for me until I dropped the paper off at my professor's house. And now, I have three weeks until school starts again. And the only indication it's Christmas around my house is that Santa now dominates the commercials. I'm a guy. Give me a break.

I'm old. Well, comparatively speaking, not really, but still I can remember when I used to think the age I am now was old. I remember before the internet. And I miss certain parts of my youth....like the trees that lined the road to my Grandmother's house, or that space under my bed. But I'm older, and I have a whole house now, so a space under my bed? Oh, I do still miss it.

In any case, Christmas is different when you're a child. I once theorized that Christmas stopped really being Christmas as a child when my outgoing gifts exceeding my incoming gifts. Which may or may not have happened yet. I fairly certain there was a period when it did, only I'm not sure. But then once you've crossed the threshold, there really isn't going back. Now, because I live alone, and have for over a decade, Christmas just ain't Christmas until I hear or see certain things. I appalled at how commercial this list is just looking at it.

1. The Grinch who Stole Christmas. I have to see it at least once. I used to own it on, wait, how old am I? I had it on video tape!

2. Silent Night by the Temptations. If you've never heard it, where have you been?

3. The Peanuts Christmas Special. I've seen it a thirty times and still am not sure if that's the actual name. But I do remember that poor little Christmas tree.

4. The Rap Trio - Christmas in Hollis, Christmas Rappin, and What you gonna get Crimmus. I seriously have no idea why, but these songs put me in a Christmas mood. They're not really traditional Christmas music I admit, but I am product of my experiences.

5. I see that lady at the mall doing free wrapping. Yes, really.

6. I start seeing advertisements for A Christmas Story's 24 hour marathon.

I'm not sure why I need those things. And considering how little Christmas shopping I did this year...I am currently an unemployed student, jeez...I had to make a special trip to see that lady at the mall.

One day I hope my mental triggers will be, I dunno, a child of mine reminding me that they've been extra good this year. Or a wife reminding me she's been extra naughty this year. In either case, let's just say that things are what they are...for now.

Barkeep. Some of that Eggnog Alize.

A Very Mis-informed Christmas

This is a political post

Oh Christmas Tree....

A "friend"....okay, a guy I went to college with who I reconnected with on FB, posts a link. He's upset and hot. But then, I'm fairly confident he's got a end of the Obama Administration countdown app on his iphone so, there's that. It seems the USDA has decided to place a 15 cent tax on Christmas trees to fund the Christmas Tree promotion board. The article, at the conservative site I read it on, blames it on Obama ( because obviously the President has nothing better to do) and uses this as more proof the administration is "out of control" and attacking "real" American values. 

I thought at first...really? But then you read down further and see it's only 15 cents per tree, not 15 percent...so the article's supposition is this increase will be swept under the rug by the mainstream media. Then I look at it a little closer, and something doesn't look right. There is no link to the actual law or regulation so I put the cite in Google and the only place it pops up, are in articles that mention this "new tax".

So I look at cite again - 7 CFR 1214. But that cite isn't for the Federal Register, that's the cite for Code of Federal Regulations. Okay, a little skeptical now, but  I figured maybe the government has had a rule change, so lets look at the original rule. Only 7 CFR 1214 deals with Kiwi fruit...not Christmas Trees. So now I'm a little confused. 

So I check the Federal Register at www.gpo.gov. There, you can look up things by all kinds of ways, so I check the cite again, and nothing. No hits. So I look up the word "tree", and turns out the actual cite is 76 FR 69094. So wait, this true? Could the conservatives be right? So why not cite it properly so people could find it, since it is actually here. Hmmm.  

So I start reading. The Christmas Tree Promotion Board is made up of 12 members - 11 producers and one importer. So, now I'm even more confused...this is an industry board, made up of members of the private sector.  Next it goes through all the legal authority and justifications, processes, explaining notice and comment, etc, then to the history.

Now, the original article had started out with how outraged we should all be at this insult to Christmas, and how the Christmas tree industry doesn't need any help. I wonder if the person that wrote that actually read the background section, because the people they think it will injure - i.e., the Christmas Tree industry - are the proponents of the plan. The Christmas Tree producers are the ones who asked for this!

It turns out sales in the "live" Christmas Tree industry have been on the decline for thirty years while "artificial" Christmas trees sales are on the rise. The "live" section of the industry is asking the government to enforce a tax on them, so they can organize to improve their sales.

Voluntary taxation? Unthinkable.

Then I got to page 9 of the lovely PDF that happens with the correct cite, and there I found some odd language. Just so you know, the process of making a rule involves notice - the government notifying people they're going to change the rule in say, the Federal Register - and a period of comment - where people can tell the government their views and suggest changes and even ask questions. Page 9 is where they finally got to answering the objections, and someone already questioned the constitutionality of the "tax".  There the government answered with a succinct " However, the assessment provided for in this type of program is not a tax nor does it yield revenue for the Federal government. These producer and importers funds raised by producers and importers are for the benefit of producers and importers."

So it's not a tax. By definition. Says so right there in the document.

Nor does this unfairly promote the live tree industry.  It also doesn't violate the establishment clause. They even take a moment to remind Texas they're one of the 50 states.

So what was the point? Why the outrage? Why the screaming?

Then I realize where this originally came from, and then who it's targeted at. It's just to rile up people who already don't like the President. But then when you don't like someone, everything they do is offensive.

Today I read that the tax has been "scrapped" due to outcry. Outcry from who? The only people affected would have been the producers...who wanted the "tax" in the first place. Of course the judicious use of the word tax out in front of all the comments probably didn't help.

When did actual reading and gathering your own facts become unfashionable?

Christmas is Family...

Ramblings Post #162
I've had a long childhood. I came to that realization when talking with some people I hadn't seen in ages over the holidays. People my age have kids in college, and I'm still trying to score free drinks. I've got, or at least been told, that I have a lot of potential. The notebooks and hard drives full of half finished projects are a testament to that. The failed relationships only underline it. I need to do better.




Historically, as a child, my holidays were spent in the car. We'd rise and open presents, eat, then load up and go visiting. Visiting was riding an hour to see my father's parents, my grandparents, where my aunts and uncles would have gathered at the farm they'd grown up on. There we'd spend a few hours before bundling back into the car and visit to my mother's family, where again aunts and uncles would gather to celebrate the season. We visited my father's family first because they were closer. Invariably we'd ride back home in the dark.

Because this ritual continued from childhood through college and onto adulthood, I now dread spending the holiday in the car. But as the younger generation, my people are long lived, you kinda don't really have a choice.

For this year's holiday, my brother and I rented a vehicle to ride home in. A first. This is at the suggestion of my psuedo cousin, who explained the benefits of a lack of wear and tear on our own cars and issues with insurance, all of which made sense. I reserved a economy something and started packing.

Note: Packing for me involved all electronics that might be attractive to unwanted visitors. The PS3, computer, monitor, etc. No need to take chances.

The good folks muffed my reservation, so we got I guess "upgraded" to a mini-van. Which turned out to be not bad, further indicating my advanced age. It turned out to be roomy, handle well and not that bad on gas, which surprised me and my brother. After the ritual running around that accompanies all trips of any distance, we made pretty good time.

The family was good. We only dropped in on my Grandparents, who are getting on into the advanced section of advanced age. It was quieting, calming and made me wish for days gone by. It's hard watching people you've known your whole life get old. I hope it means I've got good genes.

The end of the day came when, after we'd trundled back home, I took a quiet few minutes and opened up the box of gifts Sporty had shipped me.

So, I wrote all that to say that as I grow older, the holidays have come to mean different things to me. And although I loathe the riding around on Christmas, I understand its purpose. My family is important, and due to my educational efforts and the time commitment necessary to make that happen, I've seen little of them lately. It's not about the gifts, it's the thought. It's larger than just me. That and morning after Christmas we awoke to snow, which got us on the road earlier than expected...and proved the handling of that mini-van was nice.

The Maybees..

Ramblings Post #161
One day, you start to add it all up. Where you've been, what you did, what you've left behind, what your plans are, and its fairly certain that when you finish with all the figuration and guesstimating, you're gonna realize that the number is a whole hell of a lot smaller than you could possibly have imagined. Therefore, I would suggest, if at all possible, putting that day off for as long as you can.


I have the Christmas blehs. Or maybe just the general blehs, and it's Christmas time. I'm not quite sure what the "blehs" are, because I just made the term up, but right now I have them.

Maybe life's little pressures have started to catch up with me, now that I find myself with a moment to breathe and nothing left to distract me. Maybe it's that as I calculate up my personal life scoreboard, I suddenly realize I'm gonna need one hell of a second half. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's age, maybe it's the diet, maybe it's the lack of structure, maybe it's the feng shui of my kitchen.

Maybe its the inevitable changes in my life that comes with time and making decisions...or in some cases, non-decisions. Maybe it's an awareness of my mortality, a certain degree of loneliness, or maybe I just need to clean up the house. Maybe it's that when I imagine all the possibilities for my future, the bad ones are starting to out number the good ones. Maybe it's that I've gotten into bad habits I know are bad, and haven't found the will to make them better.

Maybe I've been in the same place too long. Maybe I need a change of ...something. Maybe it's that my dreams are too large. Maybe its that I'm frustrated with too many things to list. Maybe it's that those things that made it all bearable are too few and far between now. Maybe I'm on the wrong path, maybe I'm headed in the wrong direction, or maybe I just need a nap.

Maybe I need a drink.

Maybe I need a salad.

Maybe I need a brownie.

Maybe I need a hug.

Barkeep, maybe something different.

The Holiday Season amidst

Ramblings Post #78
Life is like a cookie. Or like a cheese log. Or like an oyster. Or a box of chocolates. Or maybe even like a ice cream sundae with caramel and whipped creme. Well, not really, life is like life...and that about sums it up. There you go, reality for Christmas. And I didn't even wrap it.

I've calculated that over the years, since I've been working at my present job, I've not used upwards of 90 vacation days allotted to me, out of the possible around 120 or so I should have had. To put that in context, if the days rolled over - which they do not - and took them all starting in January, I would have to come back to work until the second week in May. It maybe for this reason, people think of me an a workaholic. Or at least Sporty used to.

These holidays are no different. The, for lack of a better term, gentleman who fills in for me when I'm out is off and so I'm stuck. In the office, watching the hours flit by I wonder how soon it will be before my brain turns to mush. They've unblocked Youtube, so when it gets really boring I watch British comedies I would much rather buy on DVD, but that they don't sell in this country. Right now it's Hyperdrive with Nick Frost of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. It's Star Trek if the Kirk were an idiot, Spock an psychopath, and Star Fleet were run like a real government agency. Really a good show.


The holidays went well. Family is all well, and life is well, lifing right along.

My time with Sporty was short, but lovely. Sunday, my RP hollers at me that right after Christmas he's having a Sunday drop in, a little food, a little drink and some folks through to watch the Falcons game...or rather, let the Falcons game play in the background while we play cards (spades, bid whist, whatever). A little earlier that morning however, Sporty hit me that we'd get together as soon as she is out of church, so I'm planning on doing two great things - seeing her AND having brunch, my favorite meal. But she hasn't hit me by eleven, so I figure I'll run over and show my face at my RPs, and then roll out to see her when she calls.

The drop in doesn't drop, but rather avalanches. People just keep showing up, and instead of the 10 or so folks I thought would be dropping through, it's 35 or so people. But I'm a romantic (or sucker, your call) and although there are plenty of women there, I hit up Sporty around 2pm and tell her to "remind the Reverend that she is going to church again next week, so he doesn't have to explain the whole God thing today". I thought it was funny.

So she invites me over to where she is right then. And in the midst of a party, a nice little set where the ratio of men to woman is heavy in my favor and everyone is festive...I get my coat and walk out the door.

Life is about Priorities.

Over there me and her talked and talked and hung out and watched the game and got accosted by small child and, well at least for me, basked in the personal warmth of seeing someone you wanted to see. She liked to little book I bought her for Christmas, and the little book that I made and it was as an enjoyable a two hours as I've ever spent. As we hugged in the street saying our good byes it was like we didn't want to let go. And she told me love me...or rather she shouted she loved me from the curb as I got into my car, as though she'd forgot to say it and was making sure to get it in. I shouted it back. We're out of sync...but apparently both want to get back. So it was a Merry Christmas.

I rolled back out to my RPs spot where the party was still in full swing. A head or two missed me, but most hadn't realized I'd slipped out. Spanky noticed and because she didn't know where I'd been, Serve was non-committal (for the record, Serve does not like even the idea of Sporty). Then the day just kept getting better, as the Cowboys beat the dogsnot out of the Redskins! Oh, how I need the Cowboys to end up with a No. 2 seed to end the hate, er...piss off the Cowboy haters. *insert snide cackle here*

Soon school will start again - one of my professors was nice enough to send the reading assignment the day before Christmas Eve - and work will continue as, well, work has a tendency to do. It's the end of the year, start of a new decade, a start of new...something.

By the way, I'm not really a workaholic, I'm quite the hedonist. Well, maybe I used to be quite the hedonist, but I'm hedonism semi-retirement. Or so I like to think. Maybe. But that's not important right now.

Barkeep, that really was rambling...wow. Something strong, I stop drinking on Thursday and I need to get my last licks in!

Christmas in the City/Country

Ramblings Post #77
It's Christmas time, oh, sing the joy of the holiday and let us rejoice in the company of men as we celebrate the birth of Jesus. Or...it's Christmas time and there is a sale at the mall, my list is long, my money short and let us come together to shake our booties, get bent on good liquor and get one last shot of freaky sneaky before NEXT year, when we'll never do something like that again...again.

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm broke. I spent my last few pennies on my Grandmother, my mother and Sporty. The last one of these had an emergency and I came through for her, but that means as one of my facebook friends put it..."due to the recession, the period for Christmas gift giving has been extended to Easter." I cut it close, but not so close as I forgot family. You gotta take care of family.

In a few hours I'll gas up the Pacer, pack up the gifts and head down to South Carolina for two days of holiday cheer. My mother is gearing up for her hip surgery, so other than the one trip to see my Grandmother, I might not have to spend the holiday in the car! Yay, me!

And if I'm really lucky, when I get back all my stuff will still be here. As I've mentioned several times before, I live in a neighborhood in "transition"...with no real neighbors. Which seemed like a brilliant concept when the transition was actually in progress, but now with it stalled, it just makes the house a tempting target. Oh well, you roll the dice.

I hollered at Sporty, and when I asked if her schedule while in town would permit any hang out time with yours truly (I'm fairly certain her girls have got her booked up trying to catch up) she said she would make time. Which means to some degree she thinks I'm important. Which felt good. And it will give me a chance to give her the book I made for her as her Christmas present, although she says I've already done too much for her already.

We'll see.

But the next week is looking right, come payday I'll be straight, I got a NYE party already lined up thanks to my RP, and I might have to start throwing out food I've got so much.

Barkeep. Give me some of that Eggnog Alizè!

Holiday Cookies --- mmmmm

Holiday Cookie Ingredients:

1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
lemon juice
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Gentlemen Jack Daniels

Sample the Jack to check the quality.

Take a large bowl, check the Jack again, to be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Turn on the electric mixer...Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar...Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the Jack is still OK, try another cup ... just in case. Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit, Pick the frigging fruit off floor... Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the Jack to check
for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who giveshz a sheet. Check the Jack Daniels. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of ar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the sink, finish the bottle of Jack Daniels and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.

CHERRY MISTMAS