NEXT! Or, "Encroachment - Next Thing - Five-yard Penalty, Repeat First Down."

 

'Tis TIME!!
No it's not - get out of the bows! Photo by Joe-elf

Happy Thanksgiving, readers. I hope all four or five of you had a happy, healthy, safe and thankful day. This will be quick, because we're all stuffed and exhausted, and because this post is just a little follow-up to TO ONE I WROTE IN 2012, and its central observation is the same as it was eleven years ago, only more so.

If you didn't bother to click on that link and reread the 2012 post, I can summarize really quickly: we as a short-attention span society are being force-fed the NEXT THING, often before we're even finished with the thing we're doing. Christmas-- sorry, holiday music was playing by mid-November, you say? 

2023 says "Hold my beer..."

July. July 14th - and probably a week old. Photo by Joe

Yeah. If there's a limit to how much the next holiday/event can encroach on the current one, we haven't hit it yet. Halloween candy and décor in stores by mid-July. Christmas candy and décor in stores in August. August!! No wonder our supply chains can't handle a little global pandemic. We may soon start selling next year's Christmas before this year's is over - our holiday hype seasons will have lapped each other!

That's all. The next thing is encroaching closer and closer to today's thing. End of sermon. No point or lesson or anything - not even a punchline. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to put away the Christmas decorations, to make way for next Halloween... What? Next Halloween is over? Fine, I'll put next year's Christmas stuff up, now...

Happy baseball All-Star Break, everyone!

Is That Thankfulness Thing Still A Thing?

And so we've reached the eve of another Thanksgiving. I've been away from the ol' bloggy drivel-y place for so long, it seemed reluctant to even let me log on. Anyway, I'm guessing people stopped doing that thing on social media where they post something for which they're thankful each and every freaking day throughout the month of November. I hope so - because after a couple of years, we've pretty much covered it, have we not? I know I certainly have - although in delightful clumps of 10 to 30 thankfulnesses at a time, rather than that every day nonsense.

To wit: Here they are, for review and time-killing...

2012

2013

2014 (A)  2014 (B)  2014 (C)

2015

2021 (A)  2021 (B)  2021 (C)

There. All caught-up? I can give you another minute, if you like. Easy now - don't be like that. My point is, I could have just posted the same list each year, but NO - I wouldn't want either of you dear readers to get bored. So I dug deeper and deeper, trying to find every little thing that wasn't the same old thing, for which I am thankful. 

Well, no more! 

Okay, here are a few more. Some are repeats and I don't care. In addition to the requisite stuff like [Maris] and health and family and home and hoboes (especially THESE TWO) and blah blah blah, this year, I find myself especially grateful for, in no particular order:

No filter. Photo by Joe - Germantown, MD 2022

1. This sky. I just like it.

2. Dining out. Post-pandemic, still feels a little more like a privilege than it used to, and that's okay with us. 

...very cold.

3. Speaking of dining out, this year I'm thankful for this one waitress from our Outer Banks "restaurant week" vacation. Every year, there are more exceptional restaurants between Nags Head and Carolla, and most of them feature good, professional service. But only one has the spectacular young waitress who flirted with me *AND* [Maris] - and yes, we know exactly what she was doing (unless she was trying to lure us into some horrible Hollywood-style robbery and/or murder scenario, which would have been not nearly as cool as it sounds) - and we don't care. Thanks for being nice to us, [name withheld because it's uniquely-spelled and I KNOW somebody out there will Google her and totally find her on social media like I did, and sorry but no]. You're very good at your job.

4. Speaking of dining out in the OBX, here's to tourist drinks in tourist traps (or even in really good restaurants full of locals, but with a touristy drink menu)...

Bonus points for crazy creepy Halloween décor.

5. And speaking of drinks... I'm thankful that a decade or so ago, I finally acquired the acquired taste for martinis. Yes, I know martinis have made the list before, and I don't care - they're great and I love 'em.

Bonus points for spiderweb table runner and bent-stem glass!

Bonus points for fire! And bent-stem glass.

6. Finding teeny tiny snakes in the middle of the hallway at my (thankfully) empty office. I've heard that on more than one occasion, snakes have literally dropped from the ceiling onto people's desks, downstairs. I know, right!

He's so teeny! Shoulda seen the little dude try to bite me when I picked him up - adorable.

Because we at the Humane Society are nothing if not humane...

7. Speaking of work, I'm thankful that almost no one has come back to the office, so there's room for me to park my ol' ragtop waaaayyy far away, where the infernal autumn leaf storm can't get her and clog up her little convertible top drain thingies. Actually, while I do love having the place mostly to myself (I'm an essential personnel... hahahaha just kidding NO ONE is essential), I'm NOT thankful that no one came back. Now we're selling this perfectly-located suburban building, and I'm going to have to commute to nowhere-near-a-Metro-stop, DC. Thanks a lot, dicks.

Bonus points for being able to scoff at the I-270 traffic all day.

8. Speaking of parking lots of perfectly-located suburban offices - I'm super-thankful that our parking lot cat has found a good home. Still a little annoyed that his owners DUMPED HIM on our property, but after a few days of cat-whispering, we were able to determine that he was a lovey-dovey puppy of a cat, and long story short, he's gonna have a great life. But people, please don't dump pets outside the Humane Society of the United States. We have no shelter facilities, no vets - hell, right now we hardly even have PEOPLE. This is just an office. The fact that it's an office occupied by animal lovers does not make it okay to dump unwanted pets there.

"You're my person now and I love you and I'm coming home with you."

"You have betrayed me and I will never trust again."

9. HALLOWEEN! Every available bit of space in our little abode is dedicated to it for close to two full months a year, now. Sue us - we love it and are thankful for it.

"Don't bother us. We're... we're conjuring."

10. A really good chair. Am I right? Yeah, I'm right.

Yeah, I'm right.

11. I'm grateful to still be able to remember when Funland in Rehoboth Beach looked like this:

Summer of 1985. Yeah! I'm OLD!

12. I'm grateful for the fact that we don't sleepwalk, so there's very little chance we'll put the turkey in the toilet. Or fall down the stairs (asleep, that is). This one courtesy of [Maris].

13. "The Walking Dead." To a point. Okay, so that point was probably several seasons ago, but yeah. For 12 years, a nice creepy escape. It had moments when it transcended the genre and TV in general. And a LOT of moments that were just bad. But I stuck with it until the bitter end, which-- What? HOW many spinoffs? Oh, HELL no...

14. Speaking of the walking dead. We did a cruel and ill-conceived little department re-org at work, this year (hey - we're just like every other large organization out there), so here's to my SURVIVING that particular dumpster fire (so far, at least)...

Cute, no?

15. Vaccines. Yes, still. Shut up. They help.

16. Mom's recipes from Judy Ireland. Yes, I know I need to copy the ones I want and give these back, like months ago.

So much rich tasty goodness in there...

17. Waking with the sun - but ONLY AT THE BEACH!

Got it? Okay. Back to bed...

18. BALLOONS!!

19. I'm thankful for my friend Tony, who had his pilot's license when we were nineteen, so that I got to photograph my childhood home from the SKY. From a part of the sky that he said we weren't allowed to be in, which got him yelled at by an air traffic controller or some such. Still, what a cool day.

1987, when all the trees were still there. And a CHEVETTE!

20. Flowers, apparently - especially tulips because [Maris] loves them.

POW!!

21. Butterflies, for butterflies are free, or something.

This was at work, too. I love it there.

22. "What We Do In The Shadows." I will not rest until all three of my readers are hooked on this brilliant little TV show. BAT!

BAT!

23. Twinkly lights. 

Bonus points if they're pointy.

Oooooohh...

Bonus points if they're part of a drag show being watched by Christmas gnomes.

24. Baby praying mantises. Totally worth watering that plant every day, just to provide a home for these little buggers.

Awwww...

25. I'm super-thankful this year, for knowing when to qui

From The Beloved Dale Thankyounote

Thanks.

[found in Potomac Yard of the Richmond, Fredericksburg and Potomac Railway, scrawled on a sheet of plywood in the traditional hobo hieroglyphs (eastern dialect) - unearthed during construction of Metro's Blue and Yellow lines in 1976]



Dear Niles Butterbal, The Frozen Turkey,

I thought a note was in order. Hopefully, this one finds you well and happy.

Ol' Barb and I had a lovely time with you and your crew on Thanksgiving, and we are immensely thankful, not only for your hospitality and the wonderful day, but for your invaluable friendship. Your very presence in our difficult lives is one of our most precious blessings.

We thoroughly enjoyed the aspic made from coagulated crabgrass oil, lint, and peanut shells, and your decorations of dead leaves and squirrel skins was second to none.

I especially appreciated the hobo wine. Its foundation was solidly buttery, but its subtle notes of dandelion, hat sweat and lint, hovering just above a subtext of creosote and cinder gave it a complexity that few road brews can claim. Sure, Ol' Barb thought it tasted like a dog poo salad baked in the Texas heat for two days before being strained through a used birthing cloth into a week-old diaper - but she thinks everything tastes like that, so don't pay her no mind. I thought it was yummy.

We were also impressed by your holiday attire - newspaper top hat and tails, burlap gown - not to mention pants! And shoes! So fancy. I know you said it was no big thing, but please accept, once more, my apologies for our appearance. In Virginia, tar is considered clothing. We'll do better, next year - if you'll have us.

As for the meal itself, what can I say? The pigeon was roasted perfectly, and the doghouse straw and sludge added a distinctive pungency that words cannot adequately describe. The mashed dirt was smooth as can be, and the sour pus, human bacon and wild onion grass topping was criminally-delicious. So salty and alive!

Your incessant insults and utter failure to miss a single, solitary opportunity to contradict, correct, or otherwise reprimand or publicly shame us were really just icing on the cake.  We can't wait to see you again, in our camp, for Christmas.

Thanks again!

Love, The Beloved Dale Thankyounote, and Ol' Barb

Prompted, once again, by my buds at STUDIO 30-PLUS, this was in keeping with the theme of "Thankful."




 

That Thankfulness Thing - Attack Of The 2015 Edition

Oh yea, oh yea, oh yea - The Court of Thankfulness is now in session and will come to order. Honorable Justice 2015 will preside. For your reading pleasure-- I SAID SIT DOWN.  Thank you.  Now, for your reading pleasure, here are no fewer than thirty (30) things for which the writer hereby declares he is thankful - and you, dear gentles, should be well-grateful that some of them are very, very brief in their depiction. (way more brief than 2012, 2013, and 2014)

To wit:

1. Baby bear Bei Bei, at the National Zoo. He is a treasure, and [Maris] and I cannot WAIT to meet him.

    

   Mei and Bei, November 2015.

2. Another MLB playoffs without atlanta and with almost no yankees.
3. Halloween - and its décor. 
4. Celebrating five years at the Humane Society of the United States. This is my longest tenure at a job since I left Erol's Video in 1992. I know!
5. Our neighbors - the ones whose first dogs ever are pit bulls (poor dogs) - have packed up what we assume is their meth lab and (hopefully) moved away. Now, the wishing for good renters to replace them begins...
6. We and our loved ones have not been the victims of a terrorist attack. Yet.
7. [Maris] hit five years, too!
8. My brother's 20-game plan at Nats Park. Love that Section 405 - close enough to Ben's Chili Bowl, and right next door to the Dogfish Head beer tap.
9. Legs. Yes, again. Also, not objectifying women.
10. Lionel trains. It's about time. Only been playing with them since about 1975.
11. My father-in-law. He left us this year, rather abruptly, and we all miss him, but are thankful to have known him.
12. Bryce freakin' Harper. Youngest man ever to win a unanimous MVP vote. Maybe not an easy guy to like, but we love him nonetheless.
13. Black-footed ferrets. More on these little cuties later, if my book ever makes its way beyond the walls of my house...

    

    ...but which one is Bingo?

14. Finding out that the young lady to whom I was assigned as "spiritual steward" has turned out to be utterly secular. My work here is done.
15. My first year since 2008 without a novel to show for it. Wait. No. Not good. Not sure I'm thankful for that.
16. This Mortal Coil. Such moody music. (nostalgic sigh)
17. Marriage equality. Because really, who F-ing cares if everyone has the same rights? Oh wait - we all do (should).
18. Richard Blade. Best DJ since Weasel.
19. The littlest of my 8 nieces and nephews. Cuz she's just so darn cute!
20. The return of Bloom County. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for Berkeley Breathed's comeback, and my relief at finding that reconnecting with his world has been effortless, like picking up a 20-years-dormant conversation with an old friend.

    

    (c) 2015 Berkeley Breathed - used without permission.

21. Dame Judi Dench. (swoon)
22. While we're at it - Bill Nighy. (equal and opposite swoon)
23. The fact that Bubba still talks to me from his grave in the backyard, and that his answer to "how are you" is always, "still dead!" See also: Bubba Drives Away
24. Smart phones. When they work, they represent more power and connectivity than even the flying cars people promised us - right there in our pockets!
25. Bubbles, because bubbles.
26. 10-Cane rum. May it rest in peace - or better still, come back to life. (Moment of silence)

    

    In memory of the finest of the sugar cane rums. Our mojitos will never be the same.

27. Attacks of the galloping dumbs, especially when they strike my entire country at once. We're experiencing one right now, and hoo boy, is it ever super-fun!
28. [Maris]. Words fail.
29. Writing. Not everyone can do it. Fewer still can do it at all well. Apparently, I has write good. Food for (my) thought...
30. White noise. Oh, woe unto those around me, should I ever lose my white noise.

This post features double-barrel inclusions of the current Studio30Plus prompt, "Attack." Please check out some of my long-lost bloggy brethren (and sistren) and their bits of written cleverness and mirth!



 

That Thankfulness Thing 2014 - Part Three Of Three (Thankfully)

First, there was 2012's That Thankfulness Thing. Then, because "quit while you're ahead" is nonsense, there was More Of That, in 2013.  Now, because a few weeks ago, I foolishly felt that something was missing from my growing list of Good Stuff, I've gone and done it again - in three bite-size parts, this time.

So.

By way of wrapping things up and putting a bow on them, here are the final ten (of thirty) things for which I am feeling especially thankful, at this time...

21.  Spam emails.  Job offers from moystTV (ew) and A8C73 E7f19359DE260a.  Other offers from [random letters, numbers, spaces, underscores, dashes, and other punctuation] - like "G.UC.C.I WATCHES AT CHEAP PRiCE," or "Sale: CANADIAN MEDICINE SHOP EXCLUSIVE MALL."  That last one was addressed to "Joe san."  ((bow))

22.  Covers, which here means the 18 different renditions of "Tomorrow Never Knows" currently residing on my old-school iPod - or maybe the 9 versions I have of "In The Year 2525."  As long as your mind's ears remain open, these things are wonders.

23.  Right Turn On Red.  Sadly, I remember when this was new.  Can you imagine having to sit there, watching no cars go by, unable to make your turn simply because of the color of the traffic light?  Horrors!  Bonus points for those who remember that, early on, the sign also said "After Stop."  Hahahaha... After WHAT??  That's priceless!

24.  Beth Greene.  I know she wasn't real.  I also know that she wasn't necessarily the best-acted (or even best-written) character on television, but I'll miss her, just the same.  She was part of the family - "her beauty and her innocence a credit to the South."  There's a hole in our hearts tonight, young lady.

25.  The martini.  It is truly an acquired taste, and I've acquired it.  Also, SO easy to make, but so hard to make well, but I'm gradually acquiring that skill, as well.

Bombay Sapphire, straight-up, twist, very cold.

26.  Particles.

27.  Movie Day.  [Maris] picks 'em, we both watch 'em.  Sometimes, there are drinking movies, like "A Million Ways To Die In The West," or "Phil The Alien."  Sometimes, chick flicks.  Loud blockbuster stuff.  Indy stuff.  Themes, like 80s night, or comic book adaptations, or spy night, or Mad Max day.  Even when it's bad, it's good.

28.  Self checkout.  Not really.  On the one hand, I adore being able to procure my Mexican Coke, Kickstart, and Funyons without interacting with another human.  On the other hand, I loathe the notion that I'm being conditioned to like doing the grocery store's work for them, and I don't like the stress induced by the slightest delay that results from any misstep on my part, or digital faux pas on the part of the hardware.  Yes, I know these aren't bananas.  I hit the wrong touch-screen button, and there's simply no explaining that to the machine...

29.  Wormholes.  The only way back, for [M] and me.  We will never give up our search.  We know you're here, somewhere, you portal through space and time...

Finally...

30.  Finishing.  I do it so rarely.  I start and I start and I start again, but to finish... What a rush that must be.  I'm thankful, dear reader(s), for the finishing of this year's thankfulness list.  Oh, and for this:

(it's technically not at all finished, but maybe - someday...)

So.  There it is.  For another year, at least.  I've got more.  Come with me...

This one, as they so often do, comes as an admittedly jury-rigged response to the Studio 30-Plus writing prompt.  This prompt, "Something Was Missing," belongs to the gifted Nonamedufus, and his post Never Had A Chance.  Check him out.  He may not have a name, but he writes.  Fun ensues.

That Thankfulness Thing 2014 - Part Two Of Three

Okay.  Two years ago, I did the Thankfulness Thing.  I should have stopped there, but no - I did it again in 2013.  And now, I just can't stop.  No time to lose!  Herein you will find the second ten of thirty things for which I find myself thankful in November, 2014...

GO!

11.  Jets.  Benny or no Benny - they are bone jigglingly amazing, whether just rolling from point A to point B...

 

 

Or performing the Missing Man formation...

...over the Daytona 500.

12.  Sparkles.  (for [Maris])

13.  The 1st-generation Sony FM Walkman.  From Rehoboth Beach, you could hear Ocean City (NJ or MD) pop stations, as well as 96-Rock, 98-Rock, and the legendary WHFS (on a clear night), and life was good.  Life was, of course, already pretty good, being life at the beach, and all, but the Walkman made it just that much better.

14.  Flasks.  Yes, these little life-savers have previously appeared on this list, but this year, more than ever...  And no - I don't need a flask in order to survive my wife's family - or MY family - but it's always better to be prepared, right?

15.  The fact that [Maris] was willing to help with this year's list.  Granted, I out-drank her (for once), tonight, so she has been of VERY little help, but still.  Just knowing that she's in my corner makes ALL the difference.

16.  Mountain Dew (Throwback).  As long as we're talking about sleepyhead over there.  This stuff is like honey.  But with caffeine.  It's... It's just TOPS...

17.  Legs.  Still.  Legs.  Sue me.

18.  Anthony Rendon and/or Asdrubal Cabrera.  Yes, it's a baseball (specifically Nationals baseball) thing.  If that's not your thing, no worries.  Go to 19.

19.  Vacations.  It doesn't matter if your vacation is some six-star escape from your five-star life of utter leisure, or a one-star motel on the "cheap" side of your nearest budget/family-friendly seaside town - or something in between...

...just getting away is half the battle.  Read, sleep, eat, write, play mini-golf - whatever - just get away.

20.  Doctors.  Mine, [Maris]'s, my mothers', my nephew's, my in-laws', and so on.  Independent of everyone's individual issues and/or coverage options etc. - I'm just really glad, tonight, that they are there, doing what they do, sometimes utterly thanklessly.  Here's to YOU, docs!

More on the 30th.  There's just so much for which I should be thankful.  Will Spridel and Chim Chim make the cut?  Stay tuned...  

I found a way to, lame as it may be, incorporate my own phrase/prompt, "I should have stopped," for my buds at STUDIO 30-PLUS, and I'm at peace with the results.  Come back again, won't you? 



 

The Gathering Before Christmas

For thirteen years, December, for at least one homeless wanderer, had been the same.  As 1940 drew to a close, Cranberry Sauce Oppenheimer stopped walking, stopped seeking work, stopped trying to recall his given name.  He knew that he was about twenty-seven years old, having left home at fourteen, and he was pretty sure he had been called Eugene, in the hazy past.  He vaguely remembered a childhood divided between Louisville and Cincinnati, but could no longer recall which had come last, and he wouldn't have been able to find his parents' home on a bet.

His annual Christmas letter to his mother was usually burnt in the hobo jungle fire with the hope that its smoke might somehow reach her, but on occasion, when December found him near the Ohio River, he would fold it into a tiny paper boat and send it floating downstream toward his two hometowns.  Such was the case with this year's note.


Dearest Ma,

     It's me - your son (Eugene, I think).  I hope you and Pa and the twins are well.  This year has been the hardest yet.  I lost my hat in a card game, but I remember how you used to say 'always look on the bright side.'  Do you still say that?  I do.  I try to, anyway.  So the bright side of losing my hat was that I learned never to play poker with a deck of only 45 cards - especially if your opponents know which cards are missing.

I worked the bean fields for most of the summer, and in the autumn I picked pumpkins, if you can believe that.  Otherwise, however, I could find no work, so I must confess that I stole more food than usual, and even took a pair of pants from somebody's clothesline.  I'm not proud of that, Ma.  I tried to go to confession a couple weeks later, but they kicked me out, on account of my stinkiness. 

My fortune went from bad to worse, when all my clothes were stolen while I was in the creek, trying to boil up and get clean for a job interview.  It would have been good work, too - helping to build roads in Indiana.  I got arrested for public indecency, of course, and although it was a relief to have a shower and a bed and a roof for 30 days, it was a jail shower, a jail bed, and a jail roof.  An old-timer in the big house told me it was Karma or some such thing, getting me back for taking that stranger's pants.  I can't say I disagree. 

I also got into a bit of trouble with my sauce-making, this year. I could only find cranberries that had been irradiated, and my sweet side dish made some of my hobo friends ill. When they saw that I never eat the stuff, they accused me of deliberately poisoning them. I tried to explain that I'm allergic, and just wanted to make a nice treat for my brethren, but it was no use. They beat me pretty bad - even knocked out a tooth - and I was on the run for weeks, before I lost them, somewhere in Pennsylvania.

On Thanksgiving, my only friend on the rails, a fellow called Bippity Hankerson, found out that his parents, who owned a little restaurant in Milwaukee, had died.  His Pa dropped a can of lard on the floor, slipped and fell, kicking the legs out from under their deep-fryer.  It spilled boiling oil all over him, and burned him right to death.  Bippity's Ma came running, slipped on all that lard and oil, and fell onto the butcher's knife she was carrying.  Bippity was so distraught when he heard the news, he got crazy-drunk on hobo wine, stumbled into the path of a fast freight, and was obliterated.  I burned what I could find of him.

So I suppose it makes sense that this December, the fog that annually envelopes me is gathering once more - as thick as ever, and twice as fast.  I'm not sure I can go on like this, Ma.  Oh, don't worry - you know I will go on - but, when this fog comes for me, I honestly can't see to the other side.  It's dark.  Christmas bells toll in my ears like a death knell.  I don't want to die, but I don't much care to be alive, either.  I want nothing.  I have nothing.  I am nothing.  Everything is nothing.  There is naught but this fog of unremitting sadness and despair.

The only thing that gets me through these Decembers is knowing that you and Pa are out there somewhere, praying for me, and knowing that no matter how numb I may be to it, Christmas happens, and is beautiful.  It also helps knowing that it won't be long before our beloved Cincinnati Reds get back onto the field. 

Until then, sure it's bleak.  I hate the fog.  It always ALMOST kills me, but I'm like a bear.  I hibernate as best I can.

Please wake me, Dear Ma, when it's over.

Your loving son,
Cranberry Sauce Oppenheimer, aka Eugene (I think)

Another post in response to a community prompt from my friends at

That Thankfulness Thing - 2013

So.  

When last we (I) spoke (posted), there was a novel that needed my attention.  That one is now a finished first draft, and I had so much fun completing it, I cranked out another one in November, for National Novel Writing Month.  As a result, I once again failed to post something for which I'm thankful each day of November.  Yes, I hear you.  YOU'RE WELCOME!  Sounds as ghastly boring for the writer as I'm sure it does for the reader.

That's why I do *THIS*, instead.  Needless to say, I'm grateful for all the requisite things:  job, home, health, family, and above all, [Maris].  But there's so much more...

1.  The Trans-Siberian Orchestra.  It's like the Fourth of July and Christmas had a baby, and added two extremely gifted guitarists.

Photo by Joe - 2012

2.  Loren Bouchard, creator of "Bob's Burgers."  I'm a sucker for witty dialogue and wild-but-believable child characters.  He is also responsible for the ingenious "Home Movies" and "Lucy, Daughter of the Devil."  Do yourself a favor and find these old, short-lived shows on the Huluverse or whatever.  They're very clever.

3.  A yankees-free baseball postseason.  Even without my Nats and/or O's, it was pure joy to watch, this year.  Bonus points for getting rid of the braves in short order, too!

4.  Humidifiers.  Machines that emit beautifully-moist air and mesmerizing white noise, and dare us to attempt to clean them.

5.  Hoboes.  ALL THESE PEOPLE, and those who succeeded them.  They complete me.  Not really.  But they keep walking, and trying, and surviving.  I like that.

6.  The sand cat at the National Zoo.  He's incredibly shy, but he said hi to [Maris] and me before vanishing for the night at the grown-up version of "Boo At The Zoo."

7.  While we're at the zoo, I can't begin to express my gratitude for the people and giant pandas responsible for little baby Princess Bao Bao, whose name ("precious treasure") totally suits her.  After last year's heartbreak, the joy is just that much greater.

 

Photo by Abby Wood, Smithsonian National Zoo - 2013

8.  Lint.  It's not just a currency, anymore.

9.  Leo the parakeet.  When no one else could teach me how to say "Pretty pretty pretty stupid weird bird," Leo was up to the task.

10.  30 pounds.  Not sure where they went, and despite the fact that about 7 of them came back, I'm thankful for their disappearance.

11.  The prospect of an outfield patrolled by Jayson Werth, Bryce Harper, and Nate McClouth.  Start working on your beard, Nate.

12.  The Patron Spirits Company.  Obviously, their tequilas are top-shelf, but they also quietly produce Pyrat XO, one of the finest blended rums in the known universe.  That's something I think we can all enjoy!

13.  The Intracoastal Waterway.  I've never seen anything larger than a 19-footer on it, but I still think it's neat.

14.  Sharknado!  If the people who breathed life into this blissfully abominable work of crap did so with "awesomely bad movie" in mind, then they succeeded brilliantly.  If, however, they were serious about making a real sci-fi thriller, then having it turn out the way it did (you can smell it from space) is its own special brand of genius.

15.  Steroid-free living.  I fully expect it to be short-lived, but for now, it's the best thing ever.

16.  Simple Minds.  They, like so many aging bands, are as good now as they were 25 years ago.  Were it not for Simple Minds, I'm not sure how I would have survived my freshman year of college.  They serenaded a packed house at DC's 9:30 Club a few weeks ago, and it was totally worth leaving the beach for.  Jim, Charlie, Mel, Ged, and Andy - here's to you.

Photo by Joe - 2013

17.  Dogs.  'Nuff said.

18.  H. Jon Benjamin - The coolest voice actor since Patrick Warburton.  Anyone who can be Jason AND Coach McGuirk, AND Bob Belcher, AND Sterling Archer, and make every one of them seem real and unique and interesting, is okay in my book.  All right, so he's not in my book - or any of my other books - but still.  He's got a gift.

19.  The fact that I know what the fox says.  Trust me when I tell you that you do NOT want to know.

20.  Jolt Mints and Kickstart.  Caffeine, delivered.  I canNOT imagine life without these marvelous inventions.  Well, I can, but it's an ugly, post-apocalyptic imagined life, so I try not to imagine it.

21.  Two novels.  Two.  In the span of five months.  And one of them might even have potential.  Actually, they both have potential, but one has a lot farther to go than the other.  Stay tuned.  And no, there are no (real) zombies.  Might be a hobo or two, though.

22.  Legs.  Still.  Legs.

23.  The National Gateway Project.  On-time and on-budget - so far.  It's neat!

24.  Allie Brosh.  If you haven't experienced her book, or her blog Hyperbole and a Half, go now and do so.  We'll wait.  Go!

25.  Did you go?  I wasn't kidding.  GO!  She's brilliant and flawed, hilarious and heartbreaking, just like life.  Anyway, so... number 25... Um... BREAD.  I love bread.

26.  Sleep.  Can you remember when you were a child, and you resisted sleep, for fear of missing something or whatever?  I can't.  I gobble up sleep like it's made of Doritos.  I'm typing these thankfulness things faster and faster, just so I can hurry up and go to sleep. 

27.  Candles.  They make [Maris] happy, and as I've said before, Fellow Males:  WHO DOESN'T WANT A HAPPY PARTNER???

28.  Snow.  Ha ha ha just kidding - I'm an adult now.  Snow is the WORST. 

29.  That vintage arcade machine at Playland in Rehoboth Beach - the one with the miniature fire truck that shot real live water at the little "fire" targets.  When I'm a zillionaire, I will find myself one of these machines and buy it and love it and feed quarters to it all day long.

30.  1983.  It was pretty much all downhill from there.

And with that, I am BACK.  Stick with me - more to come.  Hopefully, something for everyone!

Dear Black Friday

Dear Black Friday,

Oh, how you've grown!  I remember when you were just a baby.  I used to participate - against my will, obviously - in your shenanigans.  I was on the selling end of the deal back then, and you weren't known as Black Friday, yet.  You probably don't remember.  You were still known as "the day after Thanksgiving," and nobody spent the night sleeping in cold shopping center parking lots just to be the first to meet you.

I'm not writing to lecture you, but I do wish you would reconsider using that awful name.  "Black Friday" was our name for you.  Sure, it started with the Philadelphia police, but by the time I was a member of that near-slave-labor retail workforce, it had come to mean "that horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad worst day of the year when we all work from open to close and want to die."  Some like to get all accounting-ish and connect your name with retailers' most profitable month, but either way, it was an insider term!  

It was ours.  It was negative - or at best an accounting term - ick.  It was not for public use, or intended to be the name of anything the masses needed to know about.  I'm not even going to go after the retailers or the ridiculous people who encourage their pushing of your day into the day that precedes it.  Most people know how stupid it all is, but whatever (I just received an email letting me know that Zazzle is extending their Black Friday prices).  We can't help that.  I just want them to call you something else.  

Retail slaves have so little; can't they have their negative insider nickname for you?  At this point, I realize that it's too late.  Black Friday is a thing now, and somehow everyone is on-board with it.  So really I guess I am just writing to whine about that sad fact.  You've been taken from the people who invented you.  I hope you're happy.

I'll see you in December, when the deals are better, anyway.

Love, Joe