Life Is Such A Sweet Insanity.

There are many times when I crank on my blog and just rant about how screwed up the world is today. Times are changing. People are rude. Folks are stupid. Blah blah blah.

Today isn’t one of those days.

Earl and I decided to do some last minute Christmas shopping while we’re down here visiting his family outside of Philadelphia. We stopped at the local mall, I believe it’s called Neshaminy Mall (which has a Chick-Fil-A, by the way) and made a tour of the big three anchor stores – Boscov’s, Strawbridges (we call it Kaufmann’s back home) and Sears.

Sears was Sears. Apparently its not where America Shops as much, because it was not busy at all. But the service folks were friendly and we were able to find a DVD player dirt cheap. For some reason I’ve always equated the typical New York City accent with “rough and tumble”. Harsh. I find the Philly accent to be similar, but not quite as harsh. So once I get past the accent used to wish me a happy holidays, I’m good with it.

We then went to Boscov’s, which I find delightful simply because it feels like a store from about 15 or 20 years ago, but with modern clothes and such. I’m going to continue to seek out Boscov’s on shopping excursions. Again, the shoppers were pleasant and the cashier was friendly as well. Strangers were exchange well wishes, and that does warm the heart for all involved.

Then we went to Strawbridges, which is owned by the same company that owns Kaufmann’s back home. A cashier, from another department, tried to alleviate congestion in the line we were standing in by moving us to another register, which had a longer line. I don’t know what she was trying to accomplish, but we wished her a Happy Holidays anyways as we moved back to the line we were originally standing in. Under normal circumstances, the people that moved out the line to the other register would have been forced to the back of the line by the others and would have been poo-poohed. “So sad. So stupid.” But no, we all decided to let everyone back in their original place in line. Holiday spirit and all. Again, Merry Christmases were shared with everyone involved and smiles were exchanged.

Oh, by the way, Boscov’s and Strawbridges both get major geek points for using their old NCR cash registers year after year and just reaccessorizing them with the latest checkout gadget and software instead. Sears, who replaces their registers every six or seven years, loses points for yet again upgrading their equipment but doing nothing to improve the software.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because it warms my heart a bit just to see that in the flurry of all this crass commercialism that has become bigger than the holiday itself, that the decency, cordial behavior and spirit of the holidays continue to live on. Despite the red or black ink on the ledger.

Enjoy the holidays.

As I was taking the time to catch on the world’s events today, I noticed a little furry face plastered all over the cable news networks and the internet. He’s a little kitten, just a cute as can be. He was in a carrying case, around eight weeks old, marveling at the world. Come to find out, he cost $50,000. And he’s a clone.

I find this very sad for a number of reasons. First of all, and most importantly, cloning is not an exact science by any stretch of the imagination. There’s about a million and a half things that can go wrong, and since cloning is very new, we don’t know what can happen down the road to something that is cloned. Health risks, trauma… who knows? Dolly the sheep, the first cloned creature if I recall correctly, only lived six years. Her species’ average life span is 12 years.

Secondly, the woman that had this little guy cloned from his, well, donor because she missed her beloved pet so much. I get the feeling that she’s under the delusion that her cherished pet of 17 years is back from the dead. Of course, this is purely my belief, but I don’t think reincarnation works that way. Personally, I don’t believe that pets even reincarnate. They’re already perfect. They have no need to reincarnate the way humans do. Humans reincarnate so we can continue to experience life and learn lessons. She’s almost cheating the memory of her deceased pet by trying to Xerox him. Let him live on in her memory. Listen for and enjoy his spirit when he comes to visit, scampering around from The Other Side. Don’t cheapen his death by thinking you can play God and make a duplicate, because that’s not what’s happening here. You’re not fooling anyone.

Thirdly, can you imagine the pressure this little kitten is going to be up against? He’s going to be expected to behave exactly as his predecessor, because after all, he should be a duplicate copy of him. Any chance of him being himself in any way different than her former pet is going to be discouraged. This could make him very unhappy. Maybe “Fluffy version 1.0” didn’t like Meow Mix, but “Fluffy version 2.0” does. So sorry, you’re stuck with Friskies because that’s what “you” always liked before. That’s just mean. And delusional.

And lastly, the rich old bag spent $50,000 to have her cat cloned. $50,000! FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!! Can you just take a moment and imagine how many cats and dogs could be rescued, or even just given more time to live at the animal shelter? There are thousands upon thousands of abandoned, abused and discarded pets that are just looking for a happy home, with a clock ticking away in the background. Even a $10,000 donation would help the local animal shelter immensely. But this old bat spent $50,000 to have her own designer kitten made. It makes me sick.

We Americans seem to be going too far away from nature and the natural order of things lately. The world is getting very weird. We’re forgetting our roots. We’re becoming very selfish. I hope the little kitten I saw today on the news grows up to be a happy and healthy cat in a loving home. And I hope he gets all the love he deserves. I just wish he didn’t have to grow up in such a fushed place and time.

I’m writing this blog entry from work as I’m basically grazing throughout the day. It’s the annual holiday luncheon – and everyone has brought in cookies, taco dip, chocolate goodies and much much more. Earl and I (well, mostly Earl) made Swedish Meatballs. He added his own special touch to the gravy. I’ll have to get him to share the recipe on his blog.

There’s no eating healthy today. Hell, there’s no eating healthy for the rest of the year! Of course I’m washing all this healthy food down with a diet Pepsi. As if that cancels out all the calories and carbs. Good thing I’m in a “I don’t give a damn” sort of attitude. It goes along well with fa, la, la, la, la.

It’s a jolly good time of the year!

Earl and I hosted his company Holiday party this evening. I was a little nervous about the whole affair, given that it was going to be at our house, with caterers and everything. Its sometimes a little weird to be the boss’ “wife”, when actually I’m the boss’ husband (I actually like the term husbear). I occasionally have these nightmares of being at some socialite’s luncheon, where all the executive wives go like in the 1950s, and I win the centerpiece and have my name on a card tied with pink ribbon. We eat chipped beef, drink tea out of little tea cups and talk about charity events. The ladies mock me in my 501s and flannel shirt. They just don’t get me.

But the party was nothing like that. It was just a plain fun get together. Earl has put together a good team at his office and he has many reasons to be proud of them all. I know I’m proud of him. It was nice to celebrate the holiday. It’s good to be able to call them friends.

And so this morning at 7:42 a.m. was the official Winter Solstice. The days will start getting longer. Mother Earth is reborn, as a little more light springs forth each day. The time of light has arrived. This is indeed a joyous time. Happy Yule!

Back when I was a baby blogger, I wrote this blog entry around this time of year. In fact, I’m proud to say that it’s my very first blog entry, back before the days of blogger and I handcoded each blog entry page on my own. I don’t think ever made it to the site, though. I thought I’d drag out the old chestnut and share it properly.

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Deck The Halls With Vomit

December 16, 2001

This Christmas marks the sixth festive holiday season that Earl and I have been together. Let’s see… 1996 was 1, 1997 was 2, 1998 was 3, 9, 00, 01, yep it’s the sixth holiday season together. I always lose track, because our fifth anniversary is the day after Christmas, so that makes six.

Where were we now. Oh yes, it’s the holiday season once again in our merry little household. The tree is decorated so festively. The outside lights have been up since the weekend after Thanksgiving, and are now blowing fuses left and right. (I don’t know whose idea it was to decorate the 25 foot pine tree in the middle of our yard, but why did we put the connecting plugs at the top?) The tinny little caroling voices are screaming through Mr. High Fidelity and No Bass Speaker in the mall. Jingle BELLS Jingle BELLS, JINGLE ALL THE WAY. All of these are wonderful clues that it’s the most wonderful time of the year. But the real cincher on the arrival of holiday spirit is my partner Earl. God love him, his body just falls apart at the thought of the holidays. It’s like his warranty has expired or something.

Our first Christmas together, he warned me. “I always get sick around the holidays. Actually Rick (his youngest brother) and I take turns, he gets sick one year, I get sick the next.” And to think I was marrying into this festive little family the day after Christmas! The giddiness of it all! Because the way the holidays fell that year and because our families weren’t quite adjusted to their newest couple, Earl went to Pennsylvania for his family’s Christmas, I went up north to my folks and then met up with him Christmas afternoon. “I was sick yesterday, but I feel great today, since you’re here sweetheart.”

So I made it through a holiday season without actually witnessing “The Near Death holiday experience”.

The following year he was just stopped up in the sinuses a little bit. I reminded him, “Isn’t it Rick’s turn?”

“Aren’t you cute,” he replied, and proceeded to suck up the entire boxes of Kleenex into his nose. Had I not been holding his baby niece, she probably would have followed the Kleenex. The honk was heard as far away as Peoria, Illinois.

I don’t even want to mention the holiday season of 1999. Let’s just say I should have decorated the toilet seat instead of the bay window.

Last year, as we were getting ready for a Christmas party at my father’s, he broke the news to me.

“I’m having a stroke”.

“So soon? We haven’t even gotten the Christmas shopping done yet and the bills won’t be here for a month, how could you be having a stroke already?”

“You know, you’re going to feel really rotten when I drop dead into this wretched egg nog.”

“How do you know you’re having a stroke? Do you feel like Grandma Walton in that 1960s version of the Waltons movie?” I asked, trying to sound sincere.

“You know, you could show a little more compassion for a man who’s having a stroke. My left arm is numb.”

“Well then, it can’t be a stroke if it’s your left side. It’s got to be a heart attack”, I said, with all the wisdom of Nurse Needles.

“No, I’m not having a heart attack”, he nearly hissed back at me. I didn’t even know he could hiss. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

So I didn’t.

I don’t like to sound insincere or uncaring, but I think that the inner child in him gets so worked up with excitement about the holidays that his body can’t take it or something. Maybe it’s because I have a somewhat twisted philosophy on sickness. I simply refuse to be sick. I won’t do it. I won’t catch a cold, I won’t harbor pneumonia and I refuse to take part in a flu epidemic. I am going to trudge through life healthy and that’s just the way it is. I try to introduce him to my philosophies on the matter, but he’s not having any of it.

This morning I noticed he started sniffling, so I suggested “Try some of the Echinacea. It suppose to boost your immune system. Or maybe you want to start building up on Cold-Ezze”.

“I hate that stuff. It tastes awful.”

“Yes, but sweetheart, maybe it’ll herd off this cold that you seem to be catching.”, I replied, trying my best to be the doting lover.

“No, I’m going to have a cold. It’s because of the holidays.”

Tonight we went on one of our annual “Ride Through The Snobby Section of Town and See The Lights” rides. Since today was such a beautiful, mild day, I took the opportunity to vacuum and clean the car, and I put an air freshener in it.

“That air freshener is a bit over powering, isn’t it?”, he nearly snarled.

“Why don’t you wrap it up in a napkin and put it in the glove compartment?”

He wrapped it up like a dead minnow and shoved it in the glove compartment, underneath all the manuals and everything. He then rolled down the car window and hung his head out like a sick dog. Since we live in Upstate New York, and it’s winter, I needn’t point out that it was 30 degrees. “You are going to get sick if you keep up the dog routine. Shut the window!”

As we held hands and enjoyed the beautiful Christmas displays, I noticed he was sniffling more and more. So we headed home, had a mug of hot chocolate each, and then I announced I was going upstairs to update the website.

“I’m going to watch a little television”.

I had just started up the internet connection when he dropped the news.

“My leg is numb.”

Always the concerned lover, I went downstairs and dug my fingernails into his leg.

“Ouch! What the hell are you trying to do to me?”

“I thought your leg was numb. I wanted to be sure.”, I replied, trying to sound as authorative as Marcus Welby, M.D. “If you don’t feel good, why don’t you lie down?”

“People lie down when they’re tired. I’m not tired. I’m numb.” he said, a little exasperated.

“You didn’t sleep well last night, maybe you need some rest.” I suggested.

And so he did. He actually took my advice. I just went and checked on him… he’s snoring away, once again making the cows down the road restless with all that noise. I just know he’s going to be all sniffly this week. And being the loving lover, I’ll be there pushing the Echinacea and Cold-Ezze… after all, what are lovers for? But isn’t it Rick’s turn this year?

Because Earl and I have been very, very busy getting ready for the holidays, running from store to store, mall to mall, restaurant to restaurant and party to party, I’ve decided to jump with both feet into a new project.

I’ve begun rebuilding jpnearl.com from scratch.

It’s an excellent opportunity for me to brush up on my coding skills as well as do some serious house cleaning around here. We’ve had the site for a number of years, but it’s often played second fiddle to my road geek site, UpstateNYroads.com. It’s time for a major overhaul. Clean out the cobwebs. Spruce up a bit.

I’m currently working on the main page, plus I’ve tinkered around with my blog template a little bit (you may have noticed). We’re going to be adding some new features over the next couple of months, including a guestbook and feedback page, some other tidbits about our personal lives and perhaps the webcams again. And lots of photos. LOTS of photos. I’ve also decided to focus on one blog, and this is it. Geeky stuff, political thoughts, life in general, its all going to be in one place.

Earl and I are working hard to experience everything life has to offer. There’s no reason for us to keep it to ourselves.

As I mentioned a while back, Earl and I both have notebook computers… I have a PowerBook and he has an iBook. They offer the versatility of being wildly mobile, essentially doing computer stuff anywhere in the house or even doing it in public at a local coffee house or cafe, yet offer the power of a regular desktop computer.

Tonight is the first night that I’ve taken the advantage of that portability to the bedroom. Now I could get all kinky and say that I have a webcam focused on the bed and you can click on a link to see what we’re up to, and while I’m sure that would be quite popular, it’s not the case. At least not right now.

No, I’m doing some surfing while Earl is sleeping right next to me. Not ready to call it a night when he was, this seemed like a fair compromise. Kind of like Mr. and Mrs. Brady sitting up in bed and reading. Small wonder they didn’t have any children after they got married, and no, Oliver doesn’t count.

So while I have Earl snoring to my left, Tom contently purring at my feet, and the whirr of the fan invading my thoughts (it masks the ringing in my ears that I constantly hear when I’m trying to fall asleep), I’m chatting it up with some friends on Yahoo! Messenger and surfing ebay, I’m doing it while enjoying the comfort of my bed and my family.

I heartily recommend that everyone try whispering in the dark some time.

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…