Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Christmas Story

I raked leaves today, cleaned up around the front sidewalk.  I told Lindsey this was when I felt most like a member of the "petty bourgeoisie" as raking all those damp leaves felt about as petty as it gets, though edging is right up there.  It's a good workout though, and as a middle aged man, I should be engaging in semi-strenuous cardiovascular activity from time to time.

The FCNL liason phoned me as I approached the Narnia light on Mt. Tabor and requested directions for Bridge City Meeting but it turned out the event she wished to attend was at the Stark Street facility.  I decided I'd attend and went home to dress more appropriately, while also confirming Lucy Duncan as my associate on LinkedIn (AFSC business).

I discovered my "NATO pants" in the closet, Army surplus woolen monster pants from Andy & Bax, a favorite army surplus outlet on Grand Avenue (near Bridge City Meeting as it happens).  I could belt them above my belly button, humpty-dumpty style and drape a T-shirt over that, then a maroon Python zipper sweater completed the outfit.  Green and maroon, silver hair, why not?

But then when shaving... what are those black spots on my pants? -- noticed in the mirror.  Wait, those are holes!  Good thing I caught it then.  I'd have shown up at the Christmas Party all in moth eaten tatters, back from the grave, the zombie look.  Not festive.

So then I rushed to change my outfit yet again and this is when the keys went missing.  You already know the punch line:  they were in the NATO pants.  But I'd looked and looked, checking pockets thrice.  Then I spent an hour looking other places.

Uncle Bill called.  He's with his son Matt in Tualitin.  He's been through the wringer but had the bandwidth to commiserate with my key issue.  I have a friends mailbox key on it too, so if I'd dropped this on Mt. Tabor, near the Narnia light... what a nuisance!  We think Uncle Bill is on the mend but I know from my bout with pneumonia last January, recovery takes time.

So yeah, the keys were buried deep in a NATO pant pocket.  By the time I found them though, I didn't think walking to Stark Street would pay off.  Weren't they going caroling those Quakers?  They'd be singing "shaggy shaggy locks" (one of our Quaker songs) to bewildered neighbors by then.  No way I was going to drive mind you, given Peacock Lane hell (just kidding, it's pretty -- just not good for traffic).  Walking takes about twenty minutes, give or take (I might stop at Red Square or Movie Madness).

I'm not making a huge deal out of December 25 lets remember, but nor am I trying to tune out the holiday experience such as it is.  New Year's means a lot too and I do spend extra time on renewing and reconnecting during this solstice period.  That's what a lot of people are in the mood to do and I'm not about to be a grinch about it.  That'd be really petty.  Not that I'm above petty.

I'll plan to check in with the FCNL liaison tomorrow.  That will mean driving but I don't expect much traffic.  I may visit Uncle Bill on Friday.