Month: December 2015

The Life-Or-Death Round-Eye Clutter Buster

December 29. 8:00 a.m. My daughter informs me that Omar, the Painter, will arrive on Wednesday to paint my room.

“My room” is yellow. I’ve been here for three years, temporarily. The encampment – a tale of unfaithful former spouses and boyfriends – is the subject for another day.

It is now 1:15 pm.

I’m hearing voices. “Why don’t you follow the “Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up Japanese Method”?

I have developed the Life-Or-Death-Round-Eye-Clutter-Buster Method. No Zen. Not an ounce of organization.

Simply stated, “What would happen to this [book, knick-knack, scarf, Nixon T-shirt, golden sealing wax, or collection of 351 #2 Ticonderoga pencils] . . . IF I WERE DEAD?”

I picture my daughters, one holds the plastic popping Santa I’ve had since 1968. The other, waves a scarf an old lover bestowed upon me after his visit to Paris, with another woman.  At their feet, the cast-iron popover pan, bequeathed to me by my father [DO NOT EVER use soap and water].

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All right. I’m dead.

And so it goes. Today I died a thousand deaths.

 

Rudy | Secret Recipe

Author’s note. Rudy | The Unofficial Novella is comprised of notes found stuffed in a stainless steel shoe box that floated up from what used to be frozen tundra. There will be 25 posts containing random insights into the seasonal saga. They are not in order, but will be when pigs fly. This is #25. The Buck stopped yesterday.  Rudy carries on.

Christmas Breakfast idea from Rudy’s North Pole Cook Book.

Enjoy your day.

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Rudy | The Bucks Stop Here

Author’s note. Rudy | The Unofficial Novella is comprised of notes found stuffed in a stainless steel shoe box that floated up from what used to be frozen tundra. There will be 25 posts containing random insights into the seasonal saga. They are not in order, but will be when pigs fly. This is #24. It is Christmas Eve, the night of magic and hope.

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The refrain circles in his head, an endless loop of melody sung in liquid soprano tones. His antlers serve as radio transmission towers. The tundra shakes and sways to the beat.

 

“Deer flying high and crimson sleighs on the wing
Snow banks and snowmen, a chorus that sings
Wide chimneys of bricks and sacks full of bling
These are a few of my favorite things.”

 

Time to fly. Rudy looks up. The sky is filled with a million stars. The full moon looks like the backlit clock tower in a Disney movie. The glow flickers. A cloud? A wisp of smoke from Santa’s chimney?

 

No. A flock of Amazon drones heading south, like geese in reverse migration.

 

Rudy paws the ground with his freshly polished hoof. Dasher and Dancer call out the words as they appear, like those of fumes from a solitary Piper Cub trailing an advertisement for suntan lotion across the sky on the fourth of July.

 

“The. Bucks. Stop. Here?”

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Rudy | Avoiding Evil

Rudy is too busy to breathe today.

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As if climate change [for the worse] weren’t enough, this message just appeared in Rudy’s email:

“Governors of these states have announced that no refugees will be allowed to enter to seek refuge from terrorists . . . “

Trying to determine how to get around this travesty, will take most of his day. No time to greet followers.

Sorry, children of the Red, Grey and Yellow.

Rudy | “Awe-pricot” vs. “Ape-reecot”

Author’s note. Rudy | The Unofficial Novella is comprised of notes found stuffed in a stainless steel shoe box that floated up from what used to be frozen tundra. There will be 25 posts containing random insights into the seasonal saga. They are not in order, but will be when pigs fly. This is #22.

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The captain of the team reviews the Official Weather Report 72 hours before the North Pole ETD. This morning, Rudy ordered pontoons for the sleigh.

“Prepping for that El Niño. I’m impressed with your foresight,” Santa said.

Mrs. Claus jumped in. “It’s the rain, dear.”

“Sorry. There’s more to it. Our home is melting. We won’t be able to sled out of the barn in a few years.”

“But what about the rain, dear?” Mrs. Claus recapped.

“It’s snow big deal.” Santa snapped back.

“Exactly.” Three days before Christmas Eve, fumes from the last-minute rush of freshly painted nutcrackers would overcome Santa. Mrs. Claus, intoxicated from the brandied apricots concocted by the Elves, would pass out by 16:00 hours.

“So much for Global Warning.”

Image: http://altonbrown.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/alton-brown-apricot-brandy.jpg

 

 

 

 

Rudy | The Darkness Before Dawn

Right now, Rudy is preparing to be plunged into 24 hours of darkness.

Winter wields a double-edged sword. Today, the day will give up its light earlier than any other day of the year. The night will be long enough to unleash tales of long-ago heroism and valor.

And, for one instant, noon and midnight will intersect. The sun will turn from the Northern Hemisphere and without fanfare, the days will begin to stretch, longing for summer’s lingering lights.

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Join Rudy and the team as they pause to welcome the spirits at 8:48 pm in the Pacific Time Zone. White robes optional.