Hibernation

There is general agreement around these Pittsburgh parts that it is way too cold for this early in the winter, even if the frosty season has not officially arrived yet.

General agreement notwithstanding, the cold is here, oblivious. And while we are not as cold-bound as the upper Midwest and the upper Northeast, we are cold enough to be weary already of hunched shoulders and heavy coats.

So I am happy to report that I have some summer friends hanging around, in my garage, who are doing rather well in the cool and dim confines of their winter home. This fall I decided to skip the fussy gardening advice about lifting tubers, blah blah blahbeddy blah blah. I've been growing things long enough to know that there's a lot of advice out there designed only to make you work too hard.

My patio pals are hibernating quite nicely so far, still green and in the case of a canna, still flowering. If there is sun and it isn't too frosty, I open the garage door for a bit to give them a bit of weak winter light on the weekends.

Of course, there will be work to do in the spring, dividing and trimming, but I am happy to say I have $7 end-of-season ferns and hibiscus from Home Depot and black mondo grass from I can't remember where ready to set out on the warm asphalt driveway in March.

Just 3 months to go!

Carnival of the animals

In the spirit of the season, even though I want to spit nails the next time (ever, and I do mean EVER) I hear "Feliz Navidad," I volunteered today to be a Santa's helper at a local PetSmart store, printing pictures of nice people who wanted to pose their (mostly) pups with Santa Claus. All proceeds went to Going Home Greyhounds, the rescue group that brought us our lovely hounds.

So, my fellow volunteers & I took pix of Spike and Daisy, Carly Ann and Turbo, but not of Sadie, who was totally tail-between-the-legs-and-quivering traumatized by Santa. Poor sweetie! Reilly the cat was cute, too, until he hissed at Santa (great photo, though!)

Best part of the day? After a nice nap, sitting in the family room with a drink and my dog snoozing and the stereo on, listening to "Carnival of the Animals" by Camille Saint Saens.

Oh, and I read the paper, too!

Can a Sunday get any better?

Cheers!

A Charlie Brown Christmas

OK, I'm not going to link to any of the various and infinite videos and images, pirated and otherwise, to Charles M. Schulz's "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

Let me just say two words, however. Pink (and) red. And quite a bit of Violet. I don't remember being so struck as I was Wednesday night by the amounts of red, yellow green and blue, all highly saturated, that filled the show.

My favorite moment (after Snoopy sitting on his dog house, crunching bones from an endless pile and reading a newspaper) was Lucy, capped in a red hat and wrapped in a purple coat, in the scene leading to her asking Charlie Brown to direct the Christmas play.

And when Linus says "Lights, please?!" the whole auditorium goes pink and purple.


That a 45-year-old-show still has such power and draw (we have a group at work quite devoted to it) says a lot for the staying power of its message and the every-day-ness of its characters.

And, as a coda, Vince Guaraldi died much too young.

Thank you Charles M. Schulz, Vince Guaraldi, Lee Mendelsohn, Bill Melendez and all members of the "Graphic Blandishments" crew and the delightful children who gave voice to Charlie, Linus, Schroeder, Lucy, Snoopy and the rest of the Peanuts crew.

You make my Christmas every year.

All fat

Delivery day today for redecorating plans.

Two guys from a trucking company brought in a bunch of boxes, one of them a chatterbox talking, like most chatterboxes do, for the pure pleasure of hearing himself speak.

He chattered about a cat of his that has gone missing and I empathized, because ours has gone missing too. He had a good partner. Quiet, but smiling because he seemed not to mind working with Mr. Chatterbox.

Anyway, Mr. C. nattered on about his missing cat. One of many he and his wife live with, he said, but "I really liked that one."

Then, and I don't know who he was talking to, he tromped out the front door ready to bring in another box and said "Yah, he's probably at someone's house. He'll come back in the spring. All fat."

Hope my cat comes home in the spring too.

All fat.

Stay warm, Otto.