If He Throws It...

This morning we took the daughter unit to the airport so she could go back to Seattle where she lives. Its been great having her home and we were sad to see her go. So, what do we do to disperse the sad? Go to the zoo, of course. The zoo has long been my refuge when sadness hits. In fact, I don't know why I didn't just check in to a cage last August after I was mysteriously fired from my job of twenty years. I went to the beach then instead but I have been known to do both beach and zoo sojourns when I was really sad and my ignominious firing certainly qualified...

Today, though, the hub and I were sad but we also needed to walk 10,000 steps so the zoo was a no-brainer. The funny part was that even though we spotted zebras and giraffes almost immediately upon entry, we really had to dig for the rest of the animals we found. There were a couple of gorillas meditating in their enclosure. The new baby was not one of them but they had a cute picture of him on a post outside the area.

We saw the river otters. Napping. Didn't want to watch the penguins being fed because we've seen it before and its really stinky! So we went to see the big cats. I love them! Once, when the kids were little, we went to see the cats and there's a big, thick window right at the end of the exhibit which runs right up to the main lion family's enclosure. As we walked up we saw a large group of people standing at the windows, laughing.

Upon pushing our way to the window, we saw the big daddy lion on his back with his lion junk smashed right up against the Plexiglas. It became one of those times where you laugh so hard that you lose all the strength in your legs. And it was impressive . His giant daddy lion mane was nearly as grandiose, but I don't think that his hairdo was what attracted his ladies (use Tim Meadows "Ladies Man" voice).

Another time we watched the Albert Einstein of chimpanzees lure a group of visitors closer and closer by tossing chunks of moss at them. After he got them good and relaxed, he reached down and picked up a more traditional chimp missile and chucked it into the crowd. Then he sat back and watched the fun. I liked him on a personal level and I wanted him to be my friend.

Today we heard chimp sounds and went to see what was going on. The geezer chimp (might have been my old friend - he hasn't aged well ) was holding something made of paper in his pitching hand. He looked at the people, did a dance then hauled off and hurled it at us. A trainer retrieved the object. Turns out it was a copy (I'm not making this up) of National Geographic magazine! The chimps have a subscription and they read it every day. Is that the coolest thing ever. I know it charmed my socks off!

We saw kangaroos hopping around and I want to find some kind of pocket-sized apparatus that makes a "boing" sound. Then I want to go to Australia and watch a herd of kangaroos while I activate my boinger at regular intervals. I have simple needs. Right now, I need to get ready for bed. And I need socks - I left mine at the zoo and my feet are cold.

At least now the sadness is dispersed what with the zoo visit and the eleventy million texts we've exchanged since she hot back to Seattle. I love modern technology. And the zoo. I really love the zoo.

Jury Duty

Today I had to go to jury duty. I usually have my shrink write me an excuse note to get me out of it but today I decided to do my civic duty and I headed up to Oakland. Well, I decided to do my duty and I really didn't think they'd call anybody in the week between Christmas and New Years. Well, they did! Now, I have some directional issues (not from the stroke - I've always been challenged in that area) so the hub came with me to see that I wound up at the courthouse and not Jack London's reconstructed wilderness shack. After an initial false start, he got me turned the right way and we ended up at the correct locale.


After two hours of sitting and making fun of the other people in the room, making trips to the bathroom and watching the surprisingly non-boring orientation video, we got a break. A two and a half hour break! We walked to Peerless Coffee where our daughter used to work and got a cup then we found a bathroom in the grocery store next door. Off to Jack London Square where we visited the above mentioned cabin and went to the potty in Barnes and Noble. Then we started searching for a lunch venue and stumbled upon the Legendary Palace.


Considering the fact that its legendary, and a palace, I'm surprised I'd never heard of it before. Its a dim sum restaurant, which is some of our favorite Chinese food! The cool part about this place is that its freaking cheap! Our other favorite dim sum place, Yank Sing, in San Francisco would cost twice as much. Although they do have a much wider selection. Limited selection notwithstanding, the food was delicious. When we were done eating we took a picture of the really cute family at the next table.

They were an elderly Caucasian man and his Asian wife with their two gorgeous granddaughters. One was college age and the other was probably an eighth grader.They kept passing the camera around so we offered to take a picture of all of them. What a bunch! I think the old couple was a wartime romance of some kind. They are visiting from Canada for the holidays (they told me that - the rest I figured out.) and giving lots of advice to the older girl (I got that by eavesdropping). We picked a great place to have lunch! Didn't go potty there, though.

Back at the courthouse, I kissed the hub goodbye and he headed back to BART. Then I stupidly took the stairs up to the fifth floor where I sat in the hardest chair on the oldest courtroom in Northern California. Yes, the Hemorrhoid Maker was also skinny. When I saw a lady with a giant ass unable to wedge herself into an identical seat, I thanked the good Lord that my flab was gone. By the time I caught my breath, the judge was giving us our instructions. Don't talk, read, Google or tweet about anything that goes on in in this courtroom. (Including that the flag needs a good pressing?). Then we went back downstairs to fill out a really big questionnaire.

We have to go back in a week to get interviewed. Since I have friends who are cops and lawyers AND since my handwriting is illegible (since the stroke ) I'll probably get kicked, but I gotta say - that trial looks juicy and it would be cool to serve on it. I mean, civic duty doesn't have to be boring, does it? Plus, the judge seems like a really nice guy, and the bailiff is a total biscuit. Really, not boring at all.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

The hub unit and I are supposed to walk 10,000 steps each day. This is to keep the flab at bay. It works for the most part but it gets a tad dull to walk around the little lake in our neighborhood over and over, I mean, its cool in spring when there are baby ducks, great blue herons that eat baby ducks and pelicans that don't do anything to baby ducks but are my favorite bird so I wanted to give them a shout out.

In winter there is nothing but kind of ratty ducks and Canada geese that are no longer welcome at home. Plus, they're doing work on the lakeside and the path so its a little uneven. I was kvetching about the lack of an interesting and smooth walking path when the hub had a stroke of brilliance. He suggested that we head up to San Francisco to walk. The man is a freaking genius!

San Francisco is perfect because it has smooth sidewalks, ratty pigeons instead of ratty ducks and shopping! One day, we walked down to the Farmer's Market and had fish tacos. Another time we met a friend and wound up at a really good Italian restaurant for lunch. Then we went into Shreve & Co. and a salesman let us try on a ring that cost one million dollars. (Said in Dr. Evil voice with little finger extended...)

Today, we found a really good taqueria and had a grilled chicken wet burrito. We do more than eat, of course, we walk and walk and walk until my hips hurt and my toes bleed. We usually end up finding something cool in a store window and I convince the hub that we really need it. Done shopping, walking and eating, we limp back to the car or BART and make our way home.

Burrito notwithstanding, it has been working. When we eat, we share and we walk our butts off. Excuse me while I bust out a few verses of "I Left My Butt in San Francisco". Tony Bennett, eat your heart out!

Merry Christmas!

Its Christmas night and the hub and I are watching a movie. We did most of the family celebrating (read: eating ) yesterday and it was wonderful since both my kids and my surrogate grandson were here. I was in Heaven! My son brought his beautiful girlfriend who is a whiz in the kitchen. I want to start planning their wedding but they don't seem ready for that juggernaut so I'm going to satisfy that jones by butting in on my best friend's daughter's wedding which will be in June.

I also butt in on my next door neighbor's kid who is four and wonderful. He has really good taste for a four-year-old so I was a little nervous about the gift I picked out for him. Turns out a stuffed elephant that farts was the perfect gift. We took it down to our other neighbor's house to show it to her and on the way home I got to see one of those quintessential kid moments that is so charming and adorable that it makes your heart do a flip flop and your eyes fill up with tears.

We said good bye to our neighbor and my little buddy took off running back to my house. Halfway there, in the middle of his lawn, he stopped and looked up at the dark sky. "Whatcha doing?" I asked. "I'm wooking for Santa Cwause." "See anything?" "Not yet." "Well," I said, "its kind of early and you're still awake" " Yeah," he said, "its kinda earwy." Then we continued back to my house. Oof!- there goes the heart again...

Presents opened and booze imbibed, everybody repaired to their own houses to await the jolly fat man (Yes, we insisted on designated drivers.) It was so great to have both my babies home at the same time! And my surrogate grandson. He calls me his Diddy. I decided that a Diddy is a woman who is ready to be a grandma but whose kids aren't ready to have kids. No point in wasting all that good granny energy - go find yourself a pregnant lady and become friends with her.

I was lucky, my neighbors were already friends with me and the hub when she got preggers. This was good for me because I didn't have to risk the suspicion of stalking to find my pregnant lady. Also, they know I'm not a weirdo so they don't freak when I do something like give their little angel a farting elephant for Christmas.

Then you just wait for the baby to be born and let your granny flag fly! My best buddy whose daughter is getting married has a son who is about to become a daddy. More Diddy opportunity!
Neither one of my kids is burning up the sheets making me a biological grand baby (and they shouldn't - I haven't had a chance to butt in on their weddings yet),so I will grab the opportunities life presents me.

Life has been a tad unkind this past year. but I've decided to dig deep for the good stuff. Some of those things are my friend's daughter's wedding, my surrogate grandson, and - my son's girlfriend's teen aged daughter who said she'd be my pretend granddaughter. I asked and she said yes like it wasn't odd or anything. I guess you can't have too many grandparents. Or surrogate grand kids. Or Diddies.

Diners, Drive Ins and Death

I'm sitting here in the recliner watching one of my favorite TV shows. Its Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives. In this show a guy, named Guy, goes all over the country and finds little holes in the wall where they serve food which, if eaten regularly, will kill you. Every now and again you see a vegetable, but as soon as one appears it is quickly shrouded in lard and fried within an inch of its life.

Every time I watch this show (weekly - I'm hooked) I find myself looking at the charismatic host and wondering why he's alive. He tries all the food on the show and sometimes it looks like he eats more than just one or two bites. Heck, just one or two bites of some of these things would send a person's blood chemistry into orbit.

OK, he was just talking about a deep fried, bacon wrapped hot dog. I think I'll buy stock in statin drugs. In Guy's favor, he's not as lardy as you'd expect. That's not to say he would ever be accused of being thin. At least he looks like he enjoys his job. That might lower his blood pressure a notch.

What's sad is that I know he'll never visit the restaurant where we just ate dinner. The hub and I each had a grilled salmon spinach salad with the dressing on the side. I had a glass of white wine which I feel guilty about because wine is fattening. Now, Guy is eating a hot dog burrito! With cheese. As if I hadn't figured this out already - life just isn't fair!

When I was young and able to eat like a bulimic pig on a binge I didn't realize how lucky I was. I didn't enjoy my food nearly as much as Guy obviously does. I wish I'd have eaten anything with as much relish as Guy is polishing off the chili dog he's working on. And I don't a mean chopped pickle condiment, I mean gusto and enjoyment.

Anyway, I'll continue to watch Diners, Drive Ins and Dives and fantasize about all that melted cheese and fried food. I'll also pray for Guy's arteries. He seems like such a likable guy, I'm not looking forward to reading about him having a stroke or a heart attack. Although then he might show up at my salmon and spinach salad restaurant. We could compare stroke stories. It would make a lousy TV show, but I'd have fun. I bet Guy would, too...

Helpy Helperton

I finally got off my butt and started wrapping Christmas presents today. It was either that or make more cookies and I'm trying to lose weight not pile the lard back on. First, I had to pull the presents out of all my cunning hiding places. Well, my closet. So, I got the presents out and piled them on the coffee table. Then I went in search of the wrapping paper.

We have a plastic wrapping paper caddy which is stored in the garage. Our garage resembles that room at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark where they stash the ark. Only our garage is less organized. A lot less. I knew the general vicinity of the wrapping paper, but not the exact location. A little bit of poking around with a broom handle and I found it on a shelf.

More poking dislodged the caddy and, surprisingly, it slid down to me without spilling its contents all over the floor or hitting me in the face which I was expecting but not looking forward to. I hauled it into the living room and deposited it on a chair. Now I needed tape and scissors. I found two of each because I lose things in the blink of an eye.

I had the TV on and as I was settling down to work, I looked up at the screen and saw Martha Stewart making brownies with Snoop Dogg. It was so weird I had to watch. I decided to eat lunch. A chunk of leftover lasagna later, Snoop was done and Martha was frosting a snow globe cookie. I settled down again and finally started wrapping presents.

The hub and I have an eight month old kitten who is very cute and helpful. His name is Wilson and the sight of paper, tape and ribbon flying all around the room got his little kitty motor running. In fact, he got so revved up that the attacked the Christmas tree and pulled off everything he could reach. He can reach really high because he's a good jumper.

The problem is that I am totally smitten with this little mammal. I'm such the proud parent "Look - he's pooping outside!" "Where's the camera? Wilson's stretching!" "Shh - turn off the alarm, he's sleeping..." He was running all around, crashing into walls, furniture, presents, and completely charming the heck out of me.

Meanwhile, the Christmas presents, which I am usually anal about wrapping perfectly ( I don't even cross the ribbon on the bottom of the package - I do it under the bow - like I said - anal .)
look like they were wrapped by a third grader with eye/hand coordination issues. Maybe that's why Wilson came into our life, to keep me from being anal about anything. 'Cause that was all I had!

Well, the presents are wrapped ( at least covered in paper ) and stashed under the tree. This is the first year in a decade that we have been able to leave them there. Our little Cairn Terrier had territory issues and he would mark anything we left on the floor so we knew it was his. He passed away last January, though, so now the presents are safe. Except for claw marks...

Cookies are Bad

I haven't blogged lately because I've been making cookies. I have a thing about Christmas cookies.When I used to work, I got lots and lots of them for Christmas. And lots and lots. And I ate so many of them that my butt started looking like it needed its own zip code. Finally I decided that I would just taste each kind of cookie then toss the rest. That way, when I told people they were delicious I wouldn't be lying... I'd really know.

The problem with that was that it still added up to forty bazillion calories a day and my behind absorbed every single one of them. I could have solved the problem by having my jaw wired shut but that was impractical since I had to talk to people. Not eating the stuff was out of the question. I have a very acute sense of smell and it makes resistance futile to say the least. As a result of my lack of control, and a whole bunch of meals at the local taqueria, my cholesterol was high enough to stand on and hang Christmas lights on the roof.

And as a result of that, I had a stroke. Long story short, after I rehabbed, the hub and I enrolled in Kaiser's Medical Weight Management Program. We call it Fat Camp. It helped us get the weight off and my cholesterol numbers no longer cause my doctors to clutch their chest and shriek "Dear God, why are you alive?"when they read my chart. I feel better, too.

The problem is that this is my first Christmas cookie baking season since I lost the flab. I am making cookies for my neighbors. I'm making pizzelles, a crisp, Italian, waffle-like disc of deliciousness that is subtly flavored with anise. They don't tempt me like brownies and they're different from everyday Christmas cookies so people won't throw them away. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Plus, I really love the dough...

So tomorrow is our weekly Fat Camp meeting. I'm not really looking forward to going since right now I'm sitting here with a belly full of pizzelle dough. My butt flab is thrilled but I feel like puking which I won't do because that's bulimia and I will not go there. I just hope I can make it through cookie season and come out the other side still fitting in my jeans. In fact, what I'd really like to do is take off about 5 lbs. I smell a challenge. And, as I said, I have a very acute sense of smell.

Tiger Likes the Tail

I've been hearing a lot lately about this golfer guy, code named "Tiger" who can't seem to figure out how to work the zipper on his pants. I mean, sure he can get it down just fine but he doesn't seem to be able to keep it up. The zipper. Everything else apparently stays up just fine - over and over again.

What really ticks me off about this whole situation, and I feel I have a right to weigh in here since I'm bombarded ad nauseum with details on a daily, sometimes hourly basis, is that I really like tigers. One of my favorite places at the San Francisco Zoo is the Big Cat house at feeding time. They don't do that any more since one of the tigers chewed off the arm of one of the trainer/feeders. Still, I think tigers beyond cool especially when they growl. The hub and I went to the zoo on the first day it opened after Tatiana the tiger chewed up that kid on Christmas a few years ago. I felt bad for the kid and his family but also that poor tiger since she got killed for basically just doing what tigers do.

Apparently, golfer Tiger was just doing what Tiger does, too. A lot! But I have no sympathy for him. In fact, I think he should change his name to Horndog. There's something else I don't understand. Now, it seems like a skeevy guy who cheats on his wife would pick a mistress based on looks. Affairs have never seemed to me to be intellectual pursuits. I mean, if you're gonna go, you might as well go for the fantasy, right? Have you ever seen a picture of that guy's wife? She looks like the person you cheat with - not on. I don't get it. She's Swedish, for Pete's sake. Geez...

Plus, Tiger's wandering private parts have been all over the news. So much so that today I actually heard a news person opining on Tiger's response to the scandal. They compared it to the Dave Letterman and Alex Rodriguez "models" for dealing with their similar situations. And Jenny Sanford filed for divorce today so her idiot husband can do all the "hiking" on whatever "trails" he wants. I'm beginning to fear for civilization.

There's an irony here. Tigers last name is Woods. I always felt that was kind of cute based on the fact that he was a golfer and they use woods to hit balls. Now there's a whole new connotation. The balls go into holes and, oh golly, this just goes on, doesn't it? The jokes just write themselves. I wonder if there was any teabagging involved...

Baby its Cold Outside

OK - I get it newspeople - its cold. I have to run my heater. My skin feels like potato chips. My hair looks like gray hay. Yup, that's some breaking news. Two weeks before Christmas and its freaking cold. When did weather start being news? I remember - it was the El Nino before the El Nino before the last El Nino. Now all El Ninos are huge news since the first time El Nino was reported on in the news.

I don't remember the year, but I remember Chris Farley in a hula skirt on Saturday Night Live announcing that "El Nino means The...Nino!" That one provided lots of news-worthy weather, although the news people reported that El Nino can be responsible for everything from extreme weather to ordinary weather depending on the relative strenth of the Nino. Whoopee.

I feel strongly that weather should only lead the news when its a real barn burner. Like Katrina. Although, to my mind the important part of that story was less the storm itself and more the lack of preparedness and follow up by the government. There was a lot of news there - just not about weather.

When my kids were little, there was a huge and devastating fire storm in the Oakland hills. I spent that day alternately reassuring my son that the fire could absolutely NOT burn all the way down Highway 880 and get to our house and checking to see if that big white house had gone over the cliff yet. It was nearly impossible for a seven year old to understand that even though the smoke and ash could float to our house, the flames were safely tucked up in the Oakland hills burning the crap out of that big white house.

This firestorm was bonafide news and I was glad they reported it. I was obsessed with that big white house. It finally went over the hill and I was able to tear myself away from the TV. You might be thinking that a really good mother would have kept the TV off so her nervous child wouldn't have to see the fire. You would be right, but in my favor, there was nothing I could do about the smoke and ash in the air and I really HAD to know about that house. I figured that since we had to see and breathe all that crud, we might as well know what was going on.

My point is that cold weather two weeks before Christmas is not news. The 40 foot waves off Oahu this week (a result of El Nino) are really newsworthy. Forty foot waves! Cool!!! Now, if it snowed here in the Bay Area and it built up to the point where I could ski to Safeway, that would be awesome. And news.

Getting your undies in a bunch because its cold in late autumn is like getting all worked up because chocolate tastes good. Or because waves wash into shore. Or because dogs are cool. Cats, too. Stuff that's supposed to be is stuff to kvetch about, not news. Like the cold. Since I've lost my insulating blubber layer, I feel the cold more intensely, but I don't want to hear about it on the news " Yes, Biff, that lady in Newark froze her ass off again today, more at 11." Please...

Christmas Time's A Commin'

Ardenwood Farm's annual Christmas event was this weekend. Its three days long and I got to participate all three days since I'm unemployed (add your own assorted grumble words here - make sure they start with "f"s, "s"s, and "b"s). It was a lot of fun and someday I hope to get the feeling back in my feet and my ass.

On Friday, the kitchen where I usually work was fully staffed so I was put in crafts. There were about a million strips of green, white and red paper pre-cut. I was there to help kids make paper chains. This is pretty easy duty because most of the 700 kids in the park were older than kindergarten, in possession of all their digits and at least as smart as a house cat. There were some exceptions (and some preschoolers) though, and they needed extra help. If I told them to "roll the paper", I found they could visualize the circular shape they needed to make a chain.

Then came the glue...Do NOT get me started on glue sticks as a means of affixing one piece of paper to another! A glue stick is only slightly more useful than the paste we used in second grade but at least you could eat that stuff. Most of the kids were fine, but some of the parents were nuts! I thought of some good uses for the glue sticks - many of which started with the glue stick creatively applied to a parental orifice. In the park's favor, liquid glue was not an option since these chains had to go directly home and couldn't be drippy.

Saturday, I was in the kitchen. I love being in there because there is a buffer zone between the volunteer (me) and the park visitors (all the people). Officially, we can't let people get too close to the wood burning stove - they might get burned. However,none of the volunteers have a degree in wood burning stove but we all crowd around the thing! Saturday I burned a spoon and a pair of scissors. Sunday, I sacrificed another spoon to the gods of fire, along with a couple batches of cookies and 7 pancakes but no human flesh! (this time).

Anyway, the visitors all enjoyed our wares and I perfected a very Vanna White-ish hand gesture for demonstrating the location of the firebox on the stove. A few visitors laughed and I found myself hilarious, so I consider it a successful addition to my repertoire. I only ate about a tenth of what I wanted to eat, but I did OK, all food considered.

The funniest part of the weekend was on Friday when the local high school choruses were there. They had all practiced like crazy and did a really great job. The kids all got to check out the park and all the craft and food stations. Every single one of those horny little weasels hit the mistletoe table, then took it into the trees to see if it worked. It did.

They made paper chains, sachets, and book marks but mostly they made out. It was pretty funny, but largely because none of them were mine. Nice kids - maybe next year we should say that anybody over 8th grade can attach a condom to their mistletoe. I learned a lot this weekend - and not just about paper chains...

Code Talkers

Have you noticed that a lot of the time people talk in code? When I was a kid, code for "She's fat" was "She has such a pretty face..." It was usually said with pity and a tilted head. Sometimes it was followed with "Bless her heart" which has always been code for "Don't hurt me, God, I'm gossiping." In college, a chubby girl was "Reubenesque". It gave the insult a veneer of class. Now, chunkoids are "curvy" although even skinny women have curves. We get them when we become women. Some men have curves even though they're really not supposed to. There's no word for a fat guy. He's just big. And nobody blesses his heart for it. They probably should, his heart is busy trying not to explode...

We use lots of code in everyday life. When my best buddy said "I'm so glad you're enjoying your new kitty", that was code for " Stop yakking about your damn cat!" But then she's always been more of a dog person. Especially since she accidentally ran over her neighbor's cat who was napping under her back tire. The cat was deaf and didn't hear the car start, plus it was really old.

"Interesting" is another code word. It means anything from "stupid" to "odd" to "I hear banjo music". "Amazing " is a good code word because you can say it while you're yawning. Its easy to hide total boredom behind a couple of "amazings" especially if you stretch out that middle "a".

I was at the Farmer's Market last summer when I saw some people picking out bags full of small, round, green and brown fruity-looking things. The sign said "Chinese apples/jujubes" and then a price. Funny, I always thought Jujubes were those hard fruit flavored things you get in the big boxes at the movies. Who knew?

Anyway, I had been curious about those fruity looking things for a while so I asked the mom-unit of the group what they were. "Chinese apples - sweet very good" she said and then she hit me with a code phrase that apparently transcends cultures and languages, to wit: "Good for the digestion" and she pointed at her stomach. I bought a bag full, brought them home, washed them and began to eat.

About two hours later, I discovered that "good for the digestion" actually means "Will give you gas that could knock over an elephant". For the next couple of days I was unfit to be in public. Of course, I have a delicate digestive system - one errant kidney bean can cause me to barricade myself in my house for 24 - 36 hours! I never ate those jujubes again - in fact, I avoid the table they occupy at the market. I wonder about that lady at the market and her "good digestion". Bless her heart...

One More Thing...

There's a song that is in no way a Christmas song but has been co-opted by Christmas song singers because its about stuff. You know - things. The song is "My Favorite Things" and its a show tune. A Sound of Music tune. My hub hates that movie because of a childhood trauma, but I've always enjoyed it. That song, though ,gets to me and here's why:

"Raindrops on roses" - Well, here in California it rains in the winter (when we're not having a drought) and most of the roses are done blooming in the rainy season. In the summer, you can find dew drops on roses, but you have to get up really early and if I have to choose - I prefer drool drops on my pillow.So the song starts out weak in my opinion. "Whiskers on kittens, OK that's cute, but anything on a kitten is cute. You could say "Gravy on kittens" - it would be gross but it would be cute. Evoking baby animals is just cheating as far as I'm concerned.

"Bright copper kettles" - are best for making candy! "and warm woolen mittens" - I'm allergic to wool. Besides that, though, wool mittens are the worst for making snowballs. They soak up water like a sponge and then your hands freeze. If you're not going to throw snowballs - what is the point in putting on mittens? Shearling mittens (fuzz inside) are best and it would fit in the song.

"Cream colored ponies" - What's wrong with brown ponies? Or black or white ponies? Probably that's why they followed that lyric with "Crisp apple strudel". You can't argue with that - especially the apple strudel from Victoria Bakery in San Francisco. Oh my... (mopping up drool ) I think you can add flab just by sniffing that stuff. With a cup of coffee - who needs a pony? "Doorbells" - Might be the UPS guy! "and sleigh bells"- probably not the UPS guy - might be Santa! and "Schnitzel with noodle" OK, that sounds good. I'd eat it. "Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wing" - geese fly in daytime not night - duh.

"Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes" - those dresses would stay white for a minute or two, max. And those sashes - they'd wad up into clumps and the ends of the sashes would fall into the toilet and get gross. Plus after the visit to the potty, the back of her dress would get tucked in to her undies and everybody would laugh at her when she walked out of the bathroom. (sigh) I sucked at childhood..."snowflakes that fall on my nose and eyelashes" OK - fun as long as the shearling mittens are in place. And you leave your glasses in the kitchen, on a table. "Silver-white winters that melt into spring". I see muddy dog and cat prints all over my house. I'm a lousy housekeeper but even I have standards. Mud prints cross the line.

Dog bites and bee stings suck, but so do gravy covered cats, frozen fingers sad ponies, drool, an eyeful of sunshine when you're looking at geese, filthy, soggy satin dresses, and mud.The food would be good,though. That song is really depressing when you think about it. Its like a litany of a horrible childhood. So sad. Who ever thought it made a good Christmas song?