UMM GOOD

Left overs. The day after a big holiday is the single best reason to cook the dinner in the first place. Of course as a microwave and grill chef, I'm usually not asked to help much in the prep work for the big meal. But like the Little Red Hen, I'm there for the taking in.

But left overs deserve a better name. Seconds doesn't sound too culinarily appealing either. Warmed Ups or Warmed Overs doesn't cut it. I'll have to go with Redux. Naugh, that sounds too much like reflux.

It can't honestly be called The Best Of--I mean there has to be truth. Golden Oldy or Classic doesn't work either. The Day After won't do it due to an atomic bomb movie of the 90's.

Once Again sounds boring. Second Time Around? Nope. Here We Go Again. Un uh. Repast Repeat? Now, we're getting desperate.

I thought about Return to the Future, but again, a movie or two beat me to it.

I'm calling leftovers The Saved. You know, something valuable, something worthwhile. Either that or The Savored. I know; it's not catchy; it's not perfect, but it's better than anything else I've offered.

Whatever you choose to call the meal--enjoy, because it's a long time till Thanksgiving and Christmas 2010.

A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS TIME

Paul McCartney's Christmas song, "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time" is one of my favorites. He says it in such a simple or simply way. It helps that he's the singer and composer so it has a good tune that'll be in my head the rest of the morning.

Some of my other favorites are "What Child is This?", "Mary, Did You Know?," and "O, Holy Night". In fact, those in reverse order are my three favorites that celebrate the birth of a King.

"Silent Night" would also have to be tied with "What Child is This?" for third. "The First Noel," "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel," and "Away in a Manger" round out a very difficult list to pare down.

As far as the secular songs that still celebrate The Season (besides McCartney's), "Jingle Bell Rock," and "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree" are the best. Except for "they're dancing in the new old fashioned way;" that simply may be the worst oxymoron of all time.

Whatever you sing at Christmas time is all right with me. We are told to make a joyful noise (I know--I left out "Joy to the World" also one of my faves. I love how it's a no-nonsense/get to the point hymn that starts triumphantly with the climax of the song) to the Lord. As long as it's not "Blue Christmas," or "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer". I don't want anyone to have a blue Christmas. And please don't disparage any Grandmothers. I just happen to love one very much.

DID YOU EVER GET A PUPPY FOR CHRISTMAS?



If not, then you have been abused. I know a couple of attorneys pretty well that might like to represent you in your lawsuit against your parents and/or spouse. Please contact me and I will provide that information.

But it's an obligation. At least once. These two chocolate labs pictured couldn't be broken up either. So if you find two like these, then you have double the fun this Christmas.

What I miss most about not having a dog is our conversations. Mostly, well, almost always just one-sided, I would tell my pooch all kinds of things. Sometimes they were so stupid, but he never cared. In fact, he seemed to enjoy my discourse.

Secondly, a good dog is never in a bad mood. Now some dogs are always in a bad mood. They're just looking for someone, preferably another dog to at least bark at. But what they prefer is the taste of dog blood. I'm dismissing those guys. But a good dog understands. Even when he's getting scolded. And he's there for you when you need to vent.

Thirdly, I miss our walks. Although I never mastered teaching a dog much of anything, I always wanted to walk one without a leash. If I had a pup like that, well I'd still be in the dog business. The closest I had was a poodle, gray and not too big or too little, that I would let out of the house when we lived on South 24th St. in MTV. He'd run around the neighborhood, sometimes even venturing onto 23rd St. before returning while I stayed in the house and yelled for him to come back. He always did, though sometimes I had to yell pretty loudly for him to be within earshot.

I would let him know about it when he returned, but he knew it was worth all the adventures he'd had, all the other sensory explosions he'd witnessed, all the territory he'd marked.

But now I'm only a dog acquaintance to Max, Monty, and the other neighborhood dogs I encounter daily. Only one walks with his owners sans leash. They offered to give him to me. I refused, but it was hard. He's not a pup anymore, but it is very near to Christmas. I just might not say no a second time.

I QUIT

And in this entry whose genesis was last night's dream, I'll tell you how.

When I started college, I was 17 years old and not at all ready to leave home for Viet Nam. I chucked my plans to attend Murray State University and instead chose MTV Community College on the campus of MTV High School. Long story shortened, I started smoking and drinking coffee. I had to prove that I was no longer in high school, though almost all of my classes shared high school facilities.

I smoked Marlboros just like Paul Hornung for 23 more years. Yet it seems so strange to me that I ever smoked. I always was very sensitive to smoke, yet I indulged smoking one plus pack per day, nearly two on weekends. But here's how to quit.

First, there is no weaning away. There is no medication or gimmick. Just quit. Yep, cold turkey.

I had finished talking to my mom on the phone. I stubbed out my last Marly. I announced to my wife, "I just quit smoking." I continued, "Just leave the pack, my lighter and the ash tray there by the phone, but I'm done."

And I was. About 5 days later I threw out the evidences of my smoking career. Never have I had another. Never the urge.

The second smokeless night I was awakened by a cold sweat. I guess it was the nicotine oozing out of me. But that was it.

I started jogging. Up to 1,200 miles one year. Two years of 1,000 more. I guess it took that long for my lungs to get cleared out.

If you're hooked, you can do it. Hey, if Mr. OuttaControl can do it, believe me, you can too. Besides never, ever starting to smoke, the only thing I'd do differently in my approach would be to take it to God first. Stupidly, I didn't, thinking I was in control and would let God handle the more important stuff. Not realizing He was in it all along and He is concerned and caring about every detail in our lives.

Don't wait a couple of days for the New Year; do it now. Or if you must, then celebrate January 4--the day I quit.

SIX LINCOLNISMS FOR BARACK

I know some faithful readers tire of my picking at the President. For that, I apologize, but before I quit my criticisms for the year 2009, I quote six "You cannots" from President Lincoln which I pray our current office holder would adapt. Like the saguaro pictured, captured by our daughter somewhere between Tucson and Phoenix, one is the most important and I leave it for the last for effect.

#1 You cannot help the poor by destroying the rich.

#2 You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.

#3 You cannot further the brotherhood of man by inciting class hatred.

#4 You cannot build character and courage by taking away people's initiative and independence.

#5 You cannot lift the wage earner up by putting the wage payer down.

And #6 You cannot help people permanently by doing for them what they could and should be doing for themselves.

Those statements made by Mr. Lincoln so many years ago parallel my political ideology to a tee. That's why I'm a staunch Republican and simply disagree with nearly every thing our current Commander-in-Chief stands for and represents.

I still love my country; I still pray for my President Barack Obama. And, yes, I still do a lot of things that I'm uncomfortable doing. But I sincerely pray that he take Lincoln's words to heart.

SEASONS' GREETINGS

Misspellings have a way of annoying an old English teacher. Not that I'm unable to share in them. But Seasons Greetings without the end apostrophe is like fingernails on the chalkboard.

For you see, its extending pleasantries for more than one season. Thus the apostrophe is obligatory. If it were only one season, then it is still necessary to place the apostrophe between the n and s. Which makes the greeting so generic that there is almost no meaning. In addition, it could apply to any holiday at any time of the year. Yet I've never heard Season's Greetings for Halloween, Labor Day, or any of the other ones.

Clarity is important. That why the House/Senate Health Care Bill runs over 2,000 pages. Hopefully, it's studied carefully and will take another 30 years to come to pass. But I digress. If you want to wish someone a Merry Christmas, then say it, for goodness sake. If it's Happy Hanukkah, then by all means. Same with Happy Kwanzaa.

Only if you have no clue what you mean should you wish someone Seasons Greetings sans apostrophe. And don't even think of Merry Xmas.

THE TOEMAN

My wife's niece (well, I guess she's mine, too, but technically she comes from her lineage) YouTubed a video of her 3 children preparing for a Christmas program at the oldest one's school. The other two are 3 and 1.

Paige, the three year old was singing Christmas songs with Charlie her big brother. Both were really quite good as they shared several without the words in front of them, but then I thought what good would that do since they can't read. Anyhow, when it got to "Frosty," Paige sang solo because Charlie was distracted and she started ahead of him with "Frosty the ToeMan".

Now I wondered if she just couldn't say SnowMan or if she thought it was ToeMan? I know that if she came from my side of the family, that the second one would be a real possibility. I've garbled lyrics since "Mr. Sandman bring me a drink".

And just what would a ToeMan look like? A melting snowman whose head had taken on the shape of a huge toe? A snowman with an inordinate number of toes? How about Frosty the driver of a truck with a huge hook on the back ready to help stranded motorists? Maybe a Snowman whose gaze was directed toward the feet?

As you can see, the possibilities are only limited by our imaginations. It doesn't matter; if Paige just can't say it, or if she has another image--it's still precious.