Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

With Christmas official a week away, and the holidays in full swing, one can’t help feel the warm, fuzzy feeling in the air. The glow of children’s cheeks as they sing Christmas carols. The sweet smell of egg nog and brandy, filling the glasses of the loved ones surrounding you. The warmth of the fire, crackling happily in the fireplace, as the family gathers and shares memories of holidays gone by.

That’s the way the holidays should be. And I must say that we’re getting there.

Of course the holidays are not complete without a madcap experience at several malls. Earl and I hit two malls in Albany yesterday to finish up the shopping. I’ve adopted a new activity to liven up the fun. If a person is chattering away on their cell phone and completely oblivious to the people and activity around them, I trip them up. Yeah, I can be an asshat.

There was a customer ahead of us at Boscov’s yesterday that gave one a new purpose for living. She seemed like she’s enjoyed a good life. She was alone, catching up on her holiday shopping and enjoying the local Brownies troop singing Christmas carols. She chatted merrily with other customers. She is 100 years old. She wrote a check, and when she presented her driver’s license for identification, the cashier noticed that she had aged a century. “Yeah, I know, I’m 100.” She then quipped, “I just had my driver’s license renewed – it’s good until 2011.” She’ll probably be around to renew it again!

Tonight was the annual Christmas party for my Dad’s side of the family. Not as many people attended this year, for various reasons, but it’s nice to experience the holiday joy with others.

As long as they stay off their cell phones.

Now that we have DirecTV and TiVo behaving correctly, Earl and I have been starting to get into our old routine of the television shows – “Judging Amy”, “The West Wing” and “American Dreams”. Notice that I’ve left “Will and Grace” off the list. I figure that show is too far gone, and too insulting to my gay sensibilities to give it any attention. The fat lady sang long ago on that one.

“Judging Amy” has a whole new set of writers and while the shows has a slightly different feel to it from last season, I must say that I am enjoying it very much. My interest in the show waned briefly a couple of weeks ago, mainly because it was full of so much angst and turmoil that I was very depressed after watching it. But it bounced back the following week, despite heart attacks, M-S and other assorted plot line inducing drama.

I was very skeptical about “The West Wing”, especially since there was a threat of an asteroid obliterating the planet this week, but I just find Allison Janney too cool for words still. With her unlikely promotion from Press Secretary to Chief of Staff, I’m sure she doesn’t have time to perform “The Jackal” as she did in the first season, but I’ll manage. We always have it on the Season One DVD.

I wasn’t too interested in “American Dreams” after last season, especially since the 60s timeline was getting a little screwy and again, a little too much drama going on, but when I saw Luke with a full beard in all his hunky glory, they earned a spot on the TiVo Season Pass list again. It’s not a bad show still, though its a little heavy on the weak acting.

My shaved head friend Thom mentioned “Airline” on A & E over a year ago, and I’ve been hooked ever since, and now I have Earl hooked on the show. It’s amazing how rude, stupid and unbelievable some airline passengers really are. I’ll stick to the Jeep, thank you very much, if only to avoid sitting next to a woman eating a sandwich made out of some exotic animal like Yak.

I’ve decided that my head is filled to the rim with Brim. And other assorted crap. As usual, I have too much crap floating around in my brain. I think it’s because I’ve made a conscious effort, my entire life, to remember everything that I possibly can. I have more useless knowledge than just about anyone I know.

For example, a schoolmate of mine, one of the few I graduated with that attended the same school grades K-12 just celebrated a birthday on December 10. Happy birthday Janice Gray. I have no idea why I remember you birthday, save for the fact that I drew your name in a birthday gift exchange in Mrs. Hayden’s second grade class. I haven’t seen you since graduation and I hope that life is treating you well. Know that I celebrate your birthday every year because for some reason its clogging up my RAM.

I remember that the second exit north of the Florida-Georgia line on Interstate 95 is for Kingsland/St. Marys, Ga. And the first sign I saw displaying this was made of fiberglass. That was in 1988. I’ve only been in Georgia twice.

I’ve had a song stuck in my head for the past two days. It’s an obscure ditty by Frida (the dark haired one from Abba) and Phil Collins. It’s called “Here We’ll Stay” and was the follow up to Frida’s hit single “I Know There’s Something Going On.” It was a flop.

I remember that the washing machine we had when I was five years old had a “Lock ‘N Spin” feature. I can still vividly recall the first time I stepped foot on a school bus, my first day of kindergarten. I sat in the first emergency exit seat on the right as you walked towards the back of the bus. It was bus 43.

When I was meditating this morning, I made an effort to recall my earliest memories. I remember sitting between my maternal grandmother and grandfather, in the front seat of their 1968 Caprice. I remember getting my favorite stuffed animal, Floppy, as I came home from the hospital after having spinal meningitis. I was just past my second birthday.

I can still recite television commercials from the 1970s. “Mr. Ling, how do you get your clothes so clean? Ancient Chinese Secret. My husband, some hot shot, here’s his Ancient Chinese Secret, Calgon. Calgon softeners water so your detergents cleans better blah, blah, blah… we need more Calgon! Ancient Chinese Secret, huh?” I’ve never used Calgon in my life. But I can tell you that the washing machine in the commercial was made by General Electric and the lint filter was missing.

I must have an obsession with laundry or something.

Is it possible that the brain can only hold so much? Do we remember only so much data, and then it falls out all over the place, and we end up a fool spewing worthless facts to make room for what lies ahead?

Whatever the reason, if anyone needs the Honeycombs cereal commercial sung at them, drop me an e-mail, maybe you’ll catch it when my brains fall out. Honeycomb’s big, yeah yeah yeah, its not small, no no no…

I just had the honor of eating the best sandwich I’ve had in a very, very long time. Earrl is usually responsible for our lunches, when he’s in town, and today was no exception. While many wives/husbands/partners would make a simple sandwich, a few slices of lunch meat, a slab of cheese and a glob of mustard or mayo, Earl always takes the time to make lunch somewhat special. A few garlic stuffed olives as garnish, a little pickle, a lot of TLC.

Well today he did something a little bit different with the sandwich and I just loved it. Today I had roast beef and cheese on whole wheat, with coleslaw instead of mustard or mayo.

Oh my insert favorite deity here.

It was out of this world and a welcomed treat. When Earl and I owned our hot dog stand, The City Pound, back in ’99, we would routinely feature a “slaw dog” on our daily special – a hot dog on a bun with coleslaw for the topping. It was pretty good, and a taste that I truly enjoyed.

Today’s sandwich surpassed that by a mile.

They say love is grand. I completely agree, especially when the grand is accompanied by so many little things as well.

Bon appetit!

Earl and I continued our month long Christmas shopping extravaganza tonight in Syracuse. We added something new to the fun this year, supper at The Little Gem Diner.

The Little Gem Diner is a landmark of sorts in Syracuse, having withstood the test of time and hanging around several decades. It’s well known to the locals and visitors alike. Situated just off busy Interstate 690 on Spencer St., The Little Gem Diner is one of those places that looks like time sort of skipped over. It’s a trailer type diner, with a long counter up one side and booths up the other. The waitresses are the friendly sorts, calling you “hun” and “honey”. There’s no formalities here, just some really, really good homemade food that harkens back to “the good old days”. Earl and I are always on the lookout for a great diner, and it was wonderful to be able to experience The Little Gem Diner. But there’s another reason we went there.

My grandmother worked at The Little Gem Diner for 24 years. If memory serves correctly, she worked there until 1972 or 1973.

I had very vague memories of the diner before going there this evening. I knew where it was, I knew it was the old trailer type, and I barely remember my grandmother either working there or taking us there to “visit the girls”.

A flood of memories came back to me as we sat down tonight. The two dessert cases, one behind each end of the counter. The mirrored door that led to the “rest rooms and phone” area. The ‘foot ledge’, as I liked to call it, that was the same color and pattern as the floor, under the stools that lined the counter.

I could almost sense my grandmother’s presence tonight while we eating supper. “How’s everything, John?”

It was the best diner food we’ve had in a long time. Hell, it was the best food we’ve had out in a long time. Cheeseburgers with mushrooms and bacon with a side of fries, wet with gravy. Nothing frozen. Nothing “corporate” tasting. Good, hearty diner food. The staff was friendly and the customers were content. We’ll be back again soon.

Merry Christmas, Gram. I miss you.

Well we’re back from the company Christmas party. Earl and I were dressed to the teeth, did our best to be charismatic (Earl doesn’t need to try very hard) and we went and did the whole company Christmas party thing.

I had a splendid time, put a lot of faces to the anonymous voices I talk to on a daily basis and enjoyed a great meal.

I work for a wonderful company. I am a lucky guy. Life is good.

Tonight is the company Christmas party. And while I’m sure I’ll have a wonderful time, I have to admit that I’m a little bit nervous about the whole thing, being my first social gathering with my new co-workers.

Will I drop a glass in the punch?

Will I sneeze on a waiter?

Will I pee myself?

Will I same something stupid?

Holiday office parties are always “interesting”, no matter who you are or where you work. I’m looking forward to it, but I have to admit I’m a little nervous.

Having completely ignored my diet (and my health in general) for the past two weeks or so, I decided to do a little research on the internet today. First of all, I wanted to know what “empty calories” were. Actually, I know what they are, I just wanted some examples.

Apparently it’s everything I’ve eaten over the past two weeks, including my little addiction to Fast Break bars. That popped me out of my little sugar stupor.

The buzzword of the day is fiber. I need more beans. Beans, beans, they’re good for your heart… well, apparently they’re good for the whole body, not just the heart. According to this site, a high fiber diet may lower cholesterol, flush out some of the bad stuff and make taking a dump that much more pleasant. Sounds good to me. I guess it pays to know your shit.

I think I may be suffering from an addiction. While many people think that I may take too many “happy pills”, being as jazzed about life as I have been lately (so sorry, I’m actually stone cold sober and have never taken anything like that in my life, this is all natural), it’s not drugs or alcohol or anything like it that I’ve become addicted to.

It’s Reese’s Fast Break bars.

OH MY INSERT FAVORITE DEITY HERE.

I can not get enough of these little bars of chocolate and peanut butter goodness. It’s Snickers without the annoying snick. It galaxies bigger than a Milky Way. And I already have my own Almond Joy.

No, no. It has to be Reese’s Fast Break bars and I will absolutely accept no substitutes.

I was craving a bar this morning, so I made my way to the break room at work, where I noticed in the candy machine that there are no Fast Break bars. After sobbing for a few moments and then realizing that no, I could not go down on the street and buy one from a junkie, I decided to have the standard Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.

It was o.k. It did not satisfy my craving. While tasty, it did not bring the near outta control, dare I say ‘orgasmic’, rush that a Fast Break bar brings. So immediately after work I headed to Byrne Dairy (read Wawa, AM/PM Mini Mart, Express Mart) and grabbed myself a Fast Break.

Ah, so good.

Then I turned it over and read the nutritional content. 250 calories in that sucker. Hmmm, the same as eating two breakfasts. I didn’t make it past the first line of calorie information. I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know. Actually, I don’t care.

I’m just lovin’ the Fast Break. Dude, wanna share?

I am convinced that whomever invented the microwave was into S&M. Yes, I know it’s suppose to be the height of kitchen convenience, but I suffer with a love/hate relationship with the Radarange.

And yes, I still call it a Radarange. As in Amana Radarange. For those that don’t remember the world before Britney Spears, the first popular brand of microwave was made by Amana. And it was called a Radarange. Hell, Amana might still make a Radarange for all I know. I think they were going for the Kleenex=Tissue concept much like Frigidaire did with the refrigerator. And while the name didn’t really carry over to today’s kitchen, it stuck with an old farm boy like me.

I remember the first Radarange I saw – my grandmother had one for as long as I can remember (maybe 1973 or 1974). You had to lock the door before it would turn on. There may have been lead gloves and lead over the private parts involved, but I could be mixing that memory up with a hospital visit or something. Anyway, It had two huge dials that lit up when they were activated – the top one measured the time in seconds (up to 3 minutes or so), the bottom measured time in minutes, up to 20 minutes or so. It was a beast of a thing, requiring two strong, strapping, handsome men to carry it on the rare occasions it had to be moved. Lights dimmed in several counties when it fired up. I’m convinced that the local nuclear power plants were installed to keep the thing running. But it lived for 20 years or so. It would heat up spaghetti lickity-split and even had a fan to send out pleasant smelling reminders of what was inside the “metal cavity”, as it was described in the manual.

My folks won one in a raffle several years later. It was a little more sophisticated, having three temperature settings — scald, melt and incinerate. But it did what it was suppose to do and that was to pop corn without having to use a popcorn popper.

Back in the early days of Microwave Cuisine, you could buy actual plastic popcorn poppers that you just dumped some corn in, put the whole thing in the Radarange and set it to do its thing. My mother misread the directions and put it on for 12 minutes or so. It ended up a big plastic blob, without the popcorn inside by the time the little mechanical bell dinged, but hey, she gets an E for effort.

Back to the S&M. I am eating supper as I write this blog entry. I have reheated some leftover chili that Earl had left explicit instructions to eat while he was away on business. At least he’s given up the color coding of my food (blue for breakfast, lavendar for lunch, strawberry for supper). Just kidding. Anyways, I put a bowl of chili in the Radarange, hit “reheat” and went to business online. I was prompted to stir, so I stirred. I was prompted to stand, so I stood. I was prompted to spin, so I spun.

I’m now eating my chili. It’s stone cold in the middle, and scalding hot in random locations on the outside.

I bet the old Amana Radarange wouldn’t have done that.