Le Monde de Fromage de Kate

My favorite quote at the moment is from a FABULOUS Christmas compilation CD from my lovely friends, Michael and Frank:

Socks, I name you “Phil.”

Every time I hear this (and other quotes from the same source) I laugh like a crazy lady (which is, of course, apropos).

I have always DETESTED the Carol of the Bells for myriad reasons. It’s overdone (usually badly), it’s anxiety-producing (bad form, you’d think, in a Christmas Carol that talks about anything “sweet”), it provokes an entirely inappropriate (for the subject matter) ominous feeling, and basically it has a bad fit of lyrics to a tune – it scans HORRIBLY (I believe it’s a Ukrainian tune that might be nice with – say – Ukrainian words on an entirely different subject) – how the lyricist (who shall remain nameless because I shan’t even BOTHER looking up such a hack – and I don’t want to know if it was someone good who was temporarily on CRACK or the like) thought that phrases such as “Hark how the bells, Sweet silver bells, all seem to say, ‘Throw cares away,'” should EVER be coupled with that portentous tune (portending EVIL bells, I would say HELL’S BELLS!!!). Don’t even get me started with the chorale arrangements of the beastly thing, which invariably turns into some sort of thumping, marcato nightmare. “Sweet” MY ASS. (Sorry, sometimes there is just no “gilding the lily”). I could go on (Really? One might ask in feigned astonishment).

But Jenny has found the salve for my discontent with this Holiday Carol. Click below to see it in all its glory:

I cannot begin to tell you how happy this song makes me. It is the PERFECT pairing of lyrics with the tune (if you’re going to do it in English, at least), capturing the urgency of the melody and fitting each syllable with faultless beauty. And the PERFORMANCE is utterly FLAWLESS. I LOVE this guy (his name is “Skipper,” too – how perfectly lovely it THAT). Thank you, Jenny. And thanks, too, American Angst.com.

A group of women looking at the “junior” seasonal t-shirts were exclaiming with shock and awe (works here too, yes?) at the baby-doll “T” that said “Jingle my Bells.” Wait – perhaps it was “You can Jingle MY Bells!” Oooooh – it could have even been, “Jingle THESE Bells” (if you want to know for certain I can tell you where to purchase said item, but let’s leave that a mystery here). Naturally, the little girl with them asks:

What does, “Jingle My Bells” mean?

There was a long pause (long to accommodate our exit, anyway), but Shirleen and I were stifling our laughter too assiduously and with such great difficulty that we didn’t get to stay and hear the response.

Parents, PLEASE tell me what you would have said to your young child in answer to this festive query. And bear in mind YOU have the luxury to think a bit about your reaction. Maybe I could even consider this a Public Service Announcement like the ones from Phillip Morris that tells you how to talk to your children about cigarettes. Of course, if it’s like those PSA’s, then this one would have to be sponsored by…Hooters (probably worse).

Ah yes, “The More You Know.”

Just wishing a Happy Thanksgiving, One and All!

I am, without a doubt, grateful for so much – things insignificant and things that have literally saved my life: caffeine fixes, modern medicine, gifts of midnight chocolate, tolerance and patience (for me and for the world), Family, jewelry, baths, Friends, laughing, crying, books, music, intelligence, kindness, hugs, Kitten Children, peas, CHEESE, Love, a body whole (despite creaks, wheezes and relative “pear” size), sleep, peace, children, the freedom to be rather a “heathen,” the freedom to criticize as well as laud and honour, sacrifice, forgiveness, toys, natural fibers, Autumn, arias to keep the bears away, abilities, memories, mountains, flowers, water, sky, fragrance, poetry of word and motion, the human voice in word and song, beautiful souls, rescue, opal silver metallic blue, meadows, candles, sustenance, honesty, movies, plays, Apple Computers, reclamation, passion, layers, respite, languages, instruments, ideas, end-of-life care, teeny-tiny-itsy-bitsy little things, generosity, stars, huzzahs, making it to Scipio, Canadian-ness, big chunky shoes, sweet surprises – be it a piano, a chocolate bar, the Perfect Valentine, well-wishes sent to my hidey hole, the dream of Scotland, the dream of a house, diet Coke – all kinds of surprises, and a Home to which I was generously welcomed.

I hope it is apparent that I was desperately avoiding hierarchical classifications. I didn’t want it to be like a harried Oscar speech in which I tried too hard to be thorough and forgot to mention my spouse (no offense, Hilary).

Oh – there is a little rant I mentioned in my gift idea. Unless you find it particularly amusing that there was (and perhaps is) a town named “Scrooby,” you might choose to ignore it. I don’t mind either way.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

WARNING – THIS IS THE RANT OR RAMBLE (depending on your point of view) *Okay, so the Pilgrims were Separatists in England who sought to escape religious persecution. They gathered in the Northern English town of Scrooby (big mistake – NOTHING good can happen in a town with a name like “Scrooby”) in 1606. They fled to Holland after increased discrimination. But, as they were farmers at heart, city life did not appeal to them, and they feared for the moral upbringing of their children faced with “big city temptations.” And perhaps they all were opposed to wooden shoes (we all know Stacy and Clinton would have HATED them). So they sailed on the Mayflower to Plymouth in 1620. Afterwards friendly Native Americans helped them survive their first two harsh winters. Quid Pro Quo, they subsequently invited their new friends to the FIRST THANKSGIVING!!!

These days in America (and in wacky Canada a month earlier, and originally it had to do with the Prince of Wales – later King Edward VII – recovering from a nasty illness and then it got all smushed together with “remembrance” day and “Armistice” day – for a long time now Canadian Thanksgiving is the second Monday in October, and you can even read various proclamations from year to year about the OFFICIAL thing for which Canada was thankful that year), Thanksgiving is considered an opportunity for family and friends to be grateful for each other and for the things with which they are blessed. Of course, Native Americans (especially those with ancestry from New England’s original population) sometimes feel a TAD bit differently and though I don’t suppose they mind the idea of gratefulness in general or a good old-fashioned “Yippee” for a bountiful harvest, the Pilgrims ended up as the dark-clothed harbingers of bigotry, marginalization, generations of forced dispossession of their homeland, and the death of so many.

However, while this Country’s history, by no means wholly honorable and at many times in the past (and the present and in days still to come) full of human shortcomings – some trifling, some wholly unforgivable – we live in a fortunate time. We can be, indeed, thankful that history can be acknowledged and studied and, with any luck, the future can omit repetitions of wretched sins of the past. Or, at least we can be thankful that we can HOPE for such a thing:

In the words of George Santayana (1863 – 1952):

The truth is cruel, but it can be loved, and it makes free those who have loved it.

And, naturally:

Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. When change is absolute there remains no being to improve and no direction is set for possible improvement: and when experience is not retained, as among savages, infancy is perpetual. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

Earlier tonight:

I’m the sexual Oompa-Loompa.

Don’t ask.

Ah. I bet YOU didn’t know that one of the “taglines” for the 2005 version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was “Oompa-Loompas are crazy for coco-beans.” Thanks, IMDB.

Cheese thought du jour:

Cheese – milk’s leap toward immortality. (Clifton Fadiman (1904 – ))

That should really make the bovine population think.

You know they have that sign that says “no shoes, no shirt, no service,” – but they don’t say anything about no pants.

This is, I must say, the most introspective commentary I’ve heard thus far regarding my brother becoming a dad:

Charles as a father, though, that’s like pondering the boundaries of the universe, or Aristotle’s “unmoved mover,” or something like that. It’s blowing my mind.

🙂 Just kidding. He’ll be great, I’m sure.

I unquestionably concur. Charles and Ashley will be wonderful parents; they have the ideal blend of whimsy and dementia and patience and smarts and compassion and all that other crap.

WARNING: If you are offended by frank language relating to certain aspects of the science of animal husbandry, do not read this entry. But let me tell you that you might want to anyway, because it’s pretty damn funny. Besides, it’s all in the interest of SCIENCE.

Asked, in all earnestness, by (apparently) a very dedicated student:

When masturbating a boar does it help to, you know, vocalize, like grunting or squealing?

The professor’s reply:

It’s not like I’ve ever gone, “Moo baby, oh yeah MOOOOO,” when using an artificial vagina.

This was, as you would expect, followed by a long, uncomfortable silence.

Oh – speaking of animal husbandry, The Living Planet Aquarium is offering internships that include the following:

• Aquarist/Animal Husbandry
• Freshwater Animal Husbandry

Naturally, they need a herpetology intern as well. And someone, evidently, needs to enrich the animals.

And speaking of enrichment – someone gave me some very interesting facts about the semen volume, phallus quirks and sexual stimulation preferences of the boar. Perhaps I’ll share those another time. I will tell you that this person referred to the boar as an “evil animal.”

Gotta love anything with animals:

“Okay – put the goat back,” she insisted.

Only a grandmother:

“Did he sterilize his lips?”

And one that begs some clarification*:

“She’s having a no hair day,” she explained solicitously.

*She said afterwards, “People who think they are having a BAD hair day should consider what it’s like to have a NO hair day!”