New Year's Resolutions

This year I’m taking a hint from my good friend S. Moosebutt and choosing my New Year’s Resolutions more carefully, to improve my chances of success.

Therefore, in 2009, I hereby resolve to:

1. Continue my boycott of parsnips, under the assumption that they are not actually food. Indeed, I have watched Bear Grylls, Les Stroud, and Andrew Zimmern carefully for some time, and although I have seen one or more of them eat a number of awful things like grubs, scorpions, bats, live snakes, raw camel kidneys, decaying zebra, almost every kind of farmyard genitalia, and (in Bear’s case) human urine (his own) from a snake skin, I have never seen any of them eat a parsnip. Case closed.

2. Never use any grooming product that has the word “hegemony” on the label.

3. Have an occasional staggering but completely unimportant insight. For example, in the Pogo song, “Deck Us All with Boston Charlie,” if you pronounce “Charlie” with a Boston accent, it’s more like “Cholly” which then makes it a better rhyme with the third line, “Nora’s freezin’ on the trolley.” Wow. You think ol’ Walt planned it that way?

4. On average of once a week, have some uncomfortable dealing with someone who believes in their heart of hearts that it is their job to set the rest of us straight. So far this year, I think I’m good through mid-March. Just last night, I talked on the phone with someone who had an anatomical relationship with a large stick, so situated that it was miraculous that they could bend enough to tie their shoes.

5. Each and every day, be in a position to wonder which cat did it.

Traditional Procrastivus Fare

I know that many of you readers (Hello? Anyone? Anyone?) are wondering what the traditional foods of the Procrastivus Season are. According to my exhaustive research completed just this evening, a typical Procrastivus meal can be made in this way:

Take about a half pound of good quality ground beef, form in into a patty, and grill it to desired degree of doneness (ideally, medium rare). When almost done, top it with sliced pickled jalapenos, and a lot of shredded cheese. Let the cheese melt. Some Tabasco at this stage is optional, but it's a nice touch. Then, pop it all on a home-made hamburger bun with some sour cream. Do a happy little dance of anticipation. Devour.

It's a tradition worth starting, I tell you what.

Procrastivus Carol # 2

All ‘round the house-top, lights still blink.
Sort of pretty, don’t you think?
Christmas is over, but they can wait
I think April will be just great.

Chorus:
Oh - Ho - Ho, To - morr - ow,
Oh - Ho - Ho, To - morr - ow!
Tomorrow is good, next week is great,
Next month is better. Procrastinate!

O’er on the table, the cards still sit,
One is signed, but that’s about it.
The holiday letter will be done soon,
In time to get out by the end of June.

(Chorus)

We’re making cookies and fudge and more
Ready to pass out door-to-door.
If they’re too late as a Valentine,
Saint Paddy’s day will do just fine.

(Chorus)

Presents are hidden under the bed,
In closets, trunks and in the shed.
There’ll be something for all of us
If we can find them by Procrastivus.

Pigging Out in Utah

Now, I should make it clear from the start that I am a proud Utahan by birth and by choice. I really don't have much patience for people who, for one reason or another, end up in Utah (or sometimes have just passed through) and spend their conversational time bagging on it because it isn't someplace else:

It doesn't have as much rain as Washington
It doesn't have beaches and surf like Hawaii
It doesn't have musical theater like New York
It doesn't have complete nut-jobs like California
It doesn't have as much corn or soybeans as Nebraska
It doesn't have commercial-grade politicians like Illinois

And so on. Those people make me a little grumpy. But in the Spirit of the Holidays I have decided to cut them some slack and ease their burdens a little. So I offer them this:

____________________________________________________

Valuable Coupon! Clip and Carry in Purse or Wallet!

I, Steverino, do hereby completely absolve the carrier of this coupon from any and all obligation to live in, pass through, or even think about, the State of Utah again. Really. You are free to go. We have felt your pain, and have Torn Down the Wall. No hard feelings.
____________________________________________________

But: to show I am actually a reasonable and fair-minded person, I am now going to admit one of Utah's failings. It became patently clear last night when I went to shop for New Year's Eve Pig-Out food. And I had to say to myself, "Toto, we aren't in Wisconsin anymore!"

I had to go to two different stores to buy brie. I found one brand of summer sausage. I had to settle for Western Family Swiss cheese. I'm almost embarrassed to admit what I had to resort to last night. The smallest little hamlet in the northernmost part of Wisconsin has a vastly better selection of sausage, cheese and crackers than the largest supermarket in Salt Lake. As I stood in the middle of Macey's, tapping my heals together and saying, "There's no place like Brennan's, there's no place like Brennan's," I knew in my heart that I was sunk. I wended my way slowly home with with my paltry Utah offerings, and vowed that my next visit to Madison would involve a large ice-chest. Maybe a refrigerated tractor-trailer.

So, you Utah-haters, I'll let you complain about the cheese and sausage. And maybe even the wine. I might even commiserate. Just be careful about the other stuff.

Procrastivus It Is, Then!

Procrastivus Carol #1

Procrastivus, Procrastivus,
The holidays are past of us.
Procrastivus, Procrastivus,
You are not for the Fast of us.

You come when winter's almost done
With belated gifts for everyone!

Procrastivus, Procrastivus,
You're waiting for the last of us!

X-Festikwanzaaweenikah

I have long maintained that if God had wanted us to celebrate Christmas on December 25, he would not have made Fall Semester grades due in December. Oh, of course that's not my only problem. There's also every level of public education deciding it would be nice to have a holiday-time concert extravaganza, in which my children participate extravagantly. Throw in a few church functions, and you've got an effective barricade to our family having a timely and joyous Christmas.

I will admit that all this seems to affect my family more than others. But the fact remains: here it is, the day after Christmas, and we have about 1/3 of our Christmas lights up, half of our tree decorations up, NO goody plates distributed to neighbors and friends, and an unacceptably small amount of wrapping paper left over from yesterday's festivities, all because we just didn't have time. Or energy. Or perhaps money, but that's beside the point.

So as a family we decided, as we often do with birthdays, to postpone the real party to a later date, in this case, January 24. Our problem has been what to call the celebration. We could just borrow a holiday, of course, but the problem with all the existing holidays is that they occur mostly in December, which doesn't really address our issue at all. Kwanzaa, for example, is held from December 26 through January 1 (although it does have the strong support of the Boy Child mainly because he wants to wear a cool hat).



And of course, we are about as African American as Thor Heyerdahl.

In the tradition of made-up holidays, there is also Festivus. It is more philosophically aligned with what we are tying to accomplish, having been created by a single family for their own purposes (though popularized by one of their sons, who wrote for Seinfeld). It also has the advantage of requiring only a single aluminum pole for decoration:

A commercially available Festivus Pole kit. Really.

But alas, it too is celebrated in December, in fact, usually on December 23, so we've already missed it. Admittedly, the traditional Airing of Grievances may have livened things up a bit.

Hanukkah runs from December 21 - 29 this year. Also I really like bacon. Also the note above about Thor Heyerdahl applies here too.

Which brings us to Decemberween. It does have the right feel to it, what with Brundo the Decemberween Yak and the Sword of St. Olaf. At least St. Olaf sounds Scandinavian. But once again, we are thwarted by the fact that clearly, Decemberween is celebrated 55 days after Halloween, placing it on December 25 (although, apparently, it can be celebrated in July, time permitting ("Decemberween, Decemberween, you're 7 months after you should've been...").

(L to R: Strong Bad as Archibald, Bubs as Dr. Christmas, Marzipan as The Angel, and Homestar Runner as The King of Town)

So that's the problem. Nothing really captures the spirit of our family celebration and occurs naturally in January. And before you leave this blog and run off to Google, let me just say I've tried that already. January 24 is Beer Can Appreciation Day. No good.

So we need some help. I need my faithful readers (both of you) to help us name our holiday. Procrastivus? Winterween? Januarymas? Also, an idea for some official decorations might help, so we can take our Christmas tree down.



The lucky reader whose idea we end up using will be promised a place at our table for the traditional X-Festikwanzaaweenikah dinner of . . . I don't really know. Spaghettios? But don't let that stop you.

I'll Probably Get in Trouble for This, But. . .

Something snapped today. I heard it once too often. You know, the little quote by Karl G. Maeser:

I have been asked what I mean by word of honor. I will tell you. Place me behind prison walls—walls of stone ever so high, ever so thick, reaching ever so far into the ground—there is a possibility that in some way or another I may be able to escape, but stand me on that floor and draw a chalk line around me and have me give my word of honor never to cross it. Can I get out of that circle? No, never! I’d die first!

I'm sorry, but I just have think that if Brother Maeser is stupid enough to make such a promise, he probably deserves what he gets.

*Sigh*

I'll probably burn for that one.