Live-Blogging The Christmas Tree Weekend

dear-santa6I found the above graphic somewhere, a few days ago, and it made me both chuckle and frown. I chuckled for an obvious reason: it’s funny. But I frowned because judgmental is misspelled. I always notice stuff like that, and it’s a curse. ‘Cause it happens all the time — people can’t spell for shit — and it’s disappointing. Oh well.

There’s a guy at my job named Terence, and I should start putting together a collection of the various ways people butcher it in emails. Sometimes his name is spelled two different ways in the same message. “Good afternoon, Terrance. I want to thank you for taking care of this problem for us… (blah blah blah), Anyway, thank you again Tarynce.”

Sweet sainted mother of Blue Moon Odom! His name is at the top of the email, right next to the word TO. The correct spelling is right there! Just aim your eyeballs four inches to the north. Sheesh.

We’re going to put up the Christmas tree tonight, or so I’m told. The older boy is home from college, and we waited so he could participate. I’m sure he wouldn’t have been emotionally destroyed if we’d gone ahead without him. But, we try to do the right thing. We really do. Now we’ll probably be annoyed as he rushes through it, continuously texts his buddies, and hustles out the front door. Ahhh, it’s a treat, I tell you.

We’re deep into Bourbon Season, and I haven’t had a drop of the stuff yet. But putting up the tree might change all that. I’m feeling the urge to start the evening with a slug of good ol’ Maker’s Mark. Yes, that’s definitely on the agenda.

Bourbon Season… That seems like a tradition from another lifetime. I’m so tired now. Bourbon Season seems to have come from a time when there was energy, and endless possibilities. A different time. How’s that for uplifting?

makersHere’s how today started… I woke up at 11 a.m., after seven hours of sleep. I shuffled downstairs and the older boy was dressed in a jacket and tie.

“I have to go to work,” he said.

“Huh? In the morning? Why?” I answered.

I don’t know. They called, and need me.” I detected a hint of attitude.

“Well, I can’t be without a car all day. Give me five minutes and I’ll drive you.”

“I have to go!” he shouted, now openly dishin’ the ‘tude.

“Fine, just go!” I said, and waved him off, dismissively.

“Gawd!” he said as he left the house.

I’d been up for roughly three minutes at this point, and was directly interacting with the boy for the first time since Thanksgiving. I went into the kitchen, annoyed and hoping there was some coffee ready. When there wasn’t I growled like a dog, as the younger boys passed through the room.

“What did I do?” he asked, defensively.

“Not about you…” I started to explain.  But he disappeared up the stairs, also hollering “Gawd!” Yes, I am the spreader of joy.

I put some coffee on to cook, and noticed Andy was doing a piss-prance by the front door. Wonderful. I guess I’m the only one who can take him out?

I slipped into some shoes, and we ventured into the yard. And at some point I stepped on one of his frozen prior-turds, it rolled, and I almost fell down. I felt like one of those Canadian log-rollers, from the early days of ESPN. There were a lot of log-based “sports” during the early days of ESPN.

And that’s how the first ten minutes or so of my Saturday went.

It got better, though. The older boy called and apologized. He said he was irritated because his manager kept calling, woke him up. and pressured him to come in RIGHT NOW. And the younger boy and I went to lunch, after I’d reclaimed my car, and had a great time. So, all’s well.

More later. But before I go, here’s what’s currently playing in the bunker: a classic from the old Peaches Records days.

world partyI’ll keep adding to this ongoing post, through Sunday night. Be sure to check back!

OK, the tree is up, and we polished off a tub of Heluva Good dip while decorating. It’s a holiday tradition, as well as confirmation of our commitment to healthy living.

What’s your stance on dips? I don’t think I’m a fan, until somebody busts some out. Then I’m fully invested. There are many things that get built-up inside my head, only to disappoint. But with dip it’s the opposite: I’m prepared to tolerate the stuff, and end up loving it, instead. Do you have any feelings on the subject? Are there any other foods that consistently over-perform? Tell us about it, won’t you?

This afternoon we went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch, and this is what was inside my fortune cookie:

baldingmanHow is that a fortune? And what the shit does it even mean?! Is it somehow profound, and I just can’t see it? Help me out, my friends. I’m baffled.

And just so you’re up on all the important news, here’s what’s playing in the bunker now:

Sycamore+Meadows

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Comments

  1. I slapped some candles in the windows and hung the possessed looking yarn faced Santa on the front door. I hate thus Santa but it apparently has some sentimental value for Beloved so every year it goes up. This year it may have an accident.

  2. If you don’t put anything up, you don’t have take anything down. There are 14 houses on my street, and no one’s put anything out for at least 5 years, and we’re gonna keep it that way! It’s all a bunch of old folks, and nobody wants to bother with it. The only violation of the rule came when one neighbor took out her white porch light bulbs, and put green ones in. I may steal them.

  3. The Divine Miss E says:

    I can spell my last name for someone, and they will still spell it wrong. People are dumbasses.

  4. I made a playlist of songs of which I never tire and “Under the milky way” is on it!!!

    • Jeff missed this post because I was wrong. World Party was “Ship of Fools” not Milky way, that was the church. Duhhhh

  5. I actually felt that slip on the prior dump. Like I toppled right with you.

  6. johnthebasket says:

    Jeff . . .

    You turned me onto Sycamore Meadows five or six years ago, and it immediately became one of my favorite albums. I don’t feel the same about all Butch’s stuff, but this work somehow hits the narrow target among pop, alt, and indie. The man can certainly write a lyric and a melody, and his voice is just right for the material. Thanks again, for the referral.

    John

    • John, I did the same thing. At Jeffs referral I bought this album and LOVED it. Has it been that long ago? Time flies when you are living the mediocre.

  7. Hello, I’ll be your magistrate today. My name is Judge Mental.
    .

  8. I really like that the kid called and worked it out. That gave me a good feeling. I agree on dips. And was listening to butch walker driving home from work the other day. I knew a girl who dated him in Atlanta in 98 or so. I remember laughing at the name butch but damned if I didn’t buy a marvelous 3 cd.

  9. I love the Hellavgood buffalo dip with some kettle chips. Yum!