craziequeen's palace

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Christmas Memories - Uisce

Rules: '..post a comment here on my blog with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL CHRISTMAS MEMORY of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.'
You can find all 28 memories here.
It was an idea I picked up from Oldoldlady.
And then I made it bigger!

At my Crazie Christmas Party the other night, without telling them what it was for, I had each adult give me a number between 1 and 28.
So there are 6 memories!

and so to number 21.....

Uisce said...
I just stopped by to wish you a Merry Christmas! And boy, does that bring back memories. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Oh, but it was so many yesterdays ago.
I was finishing up my shift on Christmas Eve at the 7-Eleven in your neighborhood. You had come in to buy a cold bottle of Chablis, some scratch off cards, and couple packages of twinkies. I remember taking your money and giving you your change, which you stuffed in your pocket on your way out of the store.
It was just a few minutes later that I noticed it -- you had left your handbag behind. It was close to midnight and I was still in the store by myself, so I needed to wait for my replacement to arrive. In the meantime, I looked through the bag for clues to its owner's identity. There was a hairbrush -- that might come in handy if we needed to do any DNA searches, I joked to myself. And there it was, a wallet! I jotted down the address from the driver's license -- nice picture, I remember thinking -- and put the wallet back into the purse.
Just a minute later, the late shift arrived and it was time for me to go home. "Tag, you're it," I told him. "And Merry Christmas!" He grumbled something about the fact that it was just a few minutes before Christmas and he was stuck working. "I'm going to take off," I told him. "A woman left this handbag and I need to return it."
I left the store and got in my car. I took a look at the address and hoped I wouldn't have any trouble finding the place. I knew the street, and I'd probably driven by a hundred times. I was hoping you would be there, and not scouring the city in search of the handbag in my possession!
I arrived at the address I was looking for and knocked on the door. Nothing. Rats, I thought. What was I going to do?
"Hey," I heard from the street. You were getting out of a taxi and walking toward your door. "What are you doing with my..."
"Hi," I told you. "Remember me? Uisce from the 7-Eleven. I sold you that bottle of Chablis you're carrying."
"Of course I remember you. Thank you so much for tracking me down," you told me. "Won't you come inside?"
"Well, I don't want to intrude," I told you.
"Nonsense," you said. And remember how you tugged on my sleeve? I followed you into the apartment. "Just come in and have some of this wine."
"But isn't that for some special occasion?" I asked. "Aren't you on your way to a Christmas party or something?"
"Of course," you said with a smile. And you looked up. Mistletoe. You were puckered up and waiting for something. I gave you a kiss on your cheek and you just started giggling.
You took the bottle of wine and the twinkies out of the bag and handed the bottle to me. I opened it while you retrieved some glasses from the kitchen. I poured us each a bit of the wine. Remember how the glasses made that magical sound when we clinked them together? You sat down on the couch and I sat down on the chair beside it.
I remember how we talked and talked for hours and hours. When it was time to leave, I told you how glad I was that we had met. I remarked how lucky we were that the fates had brought us together. I couldn't know then, could I, that it would be the beginning of such a wonderful friendship.
"Fate?" you replied. "Why do you think I left my handbag in your store?"
I gave you a big hug. Maybe it hadn't been a Christmas miracle, but it is one of my favorite Christmas memories.

This is one of my sweetest Christmas memories! :-)

Uisce has pretty much told the whole story, but not from my perspective.
I was alone that Christmas, in a strange new town and far from my family and friends. Everyone had told me that new job would be a brilliant opportunity, but had neglected to remind me of the loneliness of the one-bed apartment!
On Christmas Eve I dressed up in my finery (well, it was something to do) and then realised I had no wine. I popped my best coat on, wound my deep purple scarf around my neck, picked up my best purple handbag and trundled off to the local 7/Eleven.
While cruising the shelves I noticed the man behind the counter. He was about my age and had the kindest face I had seen in a long time. He was serving a little old lady. I watched him help her sort her money, put her groceries in a bag and then see her out the door, keeping up a constant stream of cheerful chatter. What a man!
I grabbed a handful of Twinkies and made my way to the counter.
'These - and two scratch cards, please,' I said.
The nice man smiled and pulled two cards off the roller.
'Oh, and a bottle of that Chablis,' I added. He grinned and fished out a bottle, wiping the store dust off it. He packed up my sad groceries, whilst talking about the weather, Christmas, his wife, everything. The man could talk for the US! I was absolutely bowled over.
I gave him a twenty and he made change. As I caught his eye I blushed and, jamming my change in my coat pocket, I rushed from the store clutching my bag of groceries.

'Fool!' I admonished myself as I strode away from the store. 'He's going to think you're an absolute idiot! Smiling at him like a lovesick teenager!' I could be really hard on myself when I wanted to. I fished for my keys and suddenly realised I had left my handbag at the store. Muttering to myself, I debated what to do.
Obviously, I couldn't go back! I couldn't look that lovely kind man in the face again. So I pounded the streets, thinking what to do.
As I passed by my apartment block for about the sixth time, a car pulled up. Out hopped that lovely man - with my handbag.
The rest, as they say, is history. That lovely man, Uisce, is now a dear friend of mine and he and Wifey come over regularly for meals. I'm not lonely any more.

Oh, one more thing? I didn't tell him I left the bag in the store by accident in my embarrassment. It'll be our little secret, ok?

cq

handbag by http://www.e-jules.com/

Christmas Memories - Margalit II

'..post a comment here on my blog with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL CHRISTMAS MEMORY of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.'
You can find all 28 memories here.
It was an idea I picked up from Oldoldlady.
And then I made it bigger!
At my Crazie Christmas Party the other night, without telling them what it was for, I had each adult give me a number between 1 and 28.
So there are 6 memories!

Time for number 18 - margalit again (get well soon, love!!)....well, that's what you get for loading lots of lovely fake memories!

Margalit said...
My brother and I were just talking about the Christmas that our family spend at your house and your mom wanted to light a fire in the fireplace even though it was about 50 degrees outside. She forgot to open the flue all the way and smoked us out of the living room. Then when the fire died down, your dad got the flue open all the way and stacked a bunch of pine logs on the fire, and we were looking out the window and kept seeing what looked like sparklers going by.
Then we realized that the chimney was on fire, and my brother got all upset not because the house was about to burn down, but because he thought santa might not be able to get down the chimney once the fire was out.

Ah, sweet memories... :-)

Margalit's family was over my house for Christmas again. Mum was cooking in the kitchen on Christmas Eve, making Maids of Honour and Gingerbread Men for Christmas. Margalit and I were playing in the lounge while her brother and dad steamed over a tense game of chess and Margalit's mum and my dad went for a long walk. They were gone for hours. Meantime the house got a bit cold (this was before central heating) so mum decided to light the fire in the lounge, making the house more cosy.

Unfortunately, as Margalit mentioned, mum forgot to open the flue and the ensuing clouds of smoke in the lounge threatened to spiflicate us. We all but smothered the fire and opened all the windows. Margalit and I burned some incense to get rid of the smell. Mum went back to her cooking and the games continued as if uninterrupted.

About ten minutes later, my dad came home with Margalit's mum and decided the fire needed to be lit again. He found smouldering embers and teased the fire back to life, opening the flue wide open.

'I got wood' he said and brought in a faggot of wood they had picked up during their walk.

'er - dad?' I said nervously.

'Not now, cq!' he said brusquely, separating the wood out.

'dad.....listen' I begged.

He made a huge drama out of picking out some nice big pieces of wood and threw them on the merrily flickering fire.

'what?' he turned and asked.

'dad - that's green wood, dad,' I said, pointing to the remains of the woodpile and the now smoking fire.

'no worries, love. It'll burn off lovely.'

I shrugged. His fire, his wood, his problem. Then there was a scream from the kitchen.

'Everyone! Come and see!' my mum yelled.

We crammed into the warm sweet smelling kitchen and peered out of the window where she was craning.

'The neighbours are setting off fireworks, isn't it pretty?'

'Mum,' I replied with a sinking feeling. 'That's not fireworks - that's our chimney on fire! Green wood!' I stared at my dad, before rushing to phone the fire brigade. We certainly kept that damned fire brigade occupied over Christmas in our youth!

Margalit's brother looked solemnly out of the window.

'No chimney, no Santa,' he said sadly. But when he turned away, I saw the glimmer of a smile. I followed him out of the kitchen into the lounge. He sat quietly at the table and the smile grew.

'Why're you smiling?' I asked.

'Don't tell anyone, especially Margi,' he warned looking at the kitchen door.

'ok'

'This lets me off the hook! Because this year I was supposed to be Santa - and I remember what happened to your Uncle Frank!'

Time to 'fess up, Margalit. Your brother wasn't upset - he was thrilled.... :-)

picture (c) Douglas Laird

DAY ONE 00.08

HAPPY

NEW

YEAR!!

:-)

Saturday, December 31, 2005

Your New Year's Resolutions

Your New Year's Resolutions

1) Get a pet hedgehog

2) Eat less brussel sprouts

3) Travel to New Zealand

4) Study japanese pop culture

5) Get in shape with capoeira

What Should Your New Year's Resolution Be?

Happy New Year Everyone!!

Borrowed from kontan

Christmas Memories - Jean-Luc II

Jean-Luc was about fifteen and I was thirteen. During the Christmas break from Star Fleet, we went shopping. But first, we stopped off at a Klingon bar. Dressed in our finery, we easily passed for sixteen and the huge barman had no qualms in serving us. That was the first (and last!) time I had bloodwine. Of course, I know Jean-Luc still drinks it now and then at ceremonial occasions, but I think he's pretty much sworn off it too!

Well, we downed a few goblets of bloodwine and staggered out into the street. Conveyances whizzed past us down the San Francisco street and pedestrians yelled at the annoying teenagers who got in their way. As for us? We were having a ball! Jean-Luc was telling me all about his latest debates with Boothby and how he was going to be a Star Fleet Captain, while I was clinging onto his arm to stay upright.

We got as far as the huge Mall before grinding to a halt. Malls were cool, much like the 20thC Malls, but with no stock. Huge windows were filled with magical things and, in the back, replicators produced whatever you asked for. If you wanted your gift wrapped, then there were replicators that did that too - you could even design your own wrapping paper. They were fantastic places to shop, as long as there was no limit to your imagination!

I ordered the gifts for my family and, as the replicators would take a while to create, wrap and collate my gifts, then we went for a walk. In one store there was a Santa. He was a huge jolly man, and had a tall dark elf with pointed ears.

Now remember, I had imbibed a fair amount of bloodwine and it all rushed to my head!

'It's Captain Kirk!' I yelled, running towards Santa.

'No, it's not! It can't be!' yelled Jean-Luc, pulling on my jacket. 'He's dead!'

'It is, it's Captain James Kirk!' I slurred as I reached the gaudy throne and its occupant. The elf quizzically raised one eyebrow.

'And that's Mr Spock!' I said accusingly, pointing at the elf.

Jean Luc caught up with me and pulled me back.

'How can it be Kirk?' he asked, puffing slightly. 'He's been dead for years.'

'Time travel!' I said loudly. 'Leggo!' and I wrenched free and walked steadily, but swaying slightly, up to the nonplussed Santa.

'You're James T Kirk.' I said. 'Former Captain of the USS Enterprise.' and with that I tugged on his beard. To my surprise, and Jean-Luc's horror, the beard came away in my hand, revealing a very familiar ruddy face. The man behind the beard muttered a selection of Klingon and ferengi oaths - which I cannot repeat here, being a lady!

'You are Kirk!' breathed Jean-Luc. 'Have you come here from another dimension in outer space?'

'No!' snapped Kirk, snatching his beard back. 'I'm from Iowa - why does everyone ask me that question!'

Christmas Memories - Jean-Luc

It was one of the Enterprise's famous parties thrown by the secret object of my desire, Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Everyone was there and the Bajoran brandy was flowing easily. Always one with an eye for an opportunity, I suggested sardines. For the uninitiated you turn out all the lights in the house. The person that is "it" goes and hides - similar to hide-n-seek. Everyone else counts slowly to 100. When they're done counting they go find the "it". But when they find "it" they hide with him/her until the last person finds the hiding group. The smaller the hiding place the more [coughs] cosy the end result!
On basis of rank, Jean-Luc was "it", and I peeked through my fingers as I counted. As he left the room, I quietly followed without the others seeing. He ran down a hallway and slipped into a small closet. In any other place it would have been a cleaning closet, but as the Enterprise is self-cleaning it was a small very empty space.
I gently opened the door and sneaked in behind him.
'Was that 100?' he asked with a wry smile.
'Nope' I answered honestly. 'I just wanted to be alone with you.'
I shut the door and held my breath. Were my months, nay years, of desire to be fulfilled? Jean-Luc moved easily over to the door pad and locked the door using his command code.
I stiffened as he brushed past me and then he stood in front of me.
'Shall we get more comfortable?' he asked, unzipping his jacket. Well, I was stumped, wearing only a flimsy party dress and not a lot else, I couldn't get much more 'comfortable'. But I pulled off my high heeled shoes and instantly, my intended love was several inches taller than me.
'I've been wanting to talk to you for a while,' he continued, unbuttoning his shirt. 'I was trying to find some time with you alone tonight - but I guess you managed that yourself!'
I smiled keenly in the darkness of the cupboard.
'What did you want to talk to me about?' I asked.
'The new Enterprise talent night. Beverley has talked me into taking part and I thought I'd do the speech from Henry the V, St Crispin Day.'
And from the darkness the melodious voice rolled across me.....

'This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall see this day and live old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispin's:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'

Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day.
Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouths as household words,
Harry the king,
Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot,
Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.'

I applauded gently, my heart sinking.
'Very nice, Jean-Luc - should go down well at the talent night.' I managed to spit out.
'Oh, good, glad you think so,' he said jovially, and reached out to unlock the door.
'Shall we join the others?'

Definition of irony: Incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs!

cq

Friday, December 30, 2005

Christmas Memories - Margalit

OK, so here's part II of the game - a bit late 'cos UM came to visit yesterday...

I got 28 memories! Thanks guys! You can find them all here. It was an idea I picked up from Oldoldlady and was taken up by all sorts including dawn and wendy. And then I made it bigger!

At my Crazie Christmas Party the other night, I had each adult give me a number between 1 and 28. So there are 6 memories!
These are the memories that I have now recalled and will tell you about - at one a day :-)

First up is number 6
Margalit said...
Do you remember the time Old Uncle Frank, the uncle that always was a bit too tipsy on every holiday, decided to dress up as Santa and tried to go down the chimney to surprise all us kids. Surprise us he did, by getting so wedged into the chimney that the fire department had to haul his ass out by crane.

oh yeah, I remember that well!

Me and Margalit went to bed fine and early on Christmas Eve, so as Santa would have us on his Good Girl List! We lay in the dark, looking at the twinkling stars through the window, aching to hear sleigh bells.
'Do you hear it?' she whispered.
'Not yet' I whispered back, feeling all excited as only a child can on Christmas Eve.
Then there it was - a gentle tinkling of bells, and the sound of footfalls on the roof. We gazed at the ceiling with huge eyes, Margalit praying for the Barbie house and me wishing for my new silver bike.
'Don't be silly' Margalit said. 'How's he gonna get a bike down the chimney?'
'Must be magic' I said firmly. 'He brought Uisce one last year!'
The bells died away and the footfalls quietened. There were a few thumps and bumps, then silence. I deduced the thumps and bumps was my new silver bike.
We lay silently, and slowly, ever so slowly, our little girl eyes closed to the images of christmas trees and dancing sugarplum fairies.

The next morning, Margalit and I were, surprisingly, not the first up. Aunt Edna was in the kitchen on the telephone. My mum and dad were looking anxiously around the house, inside and out. There was no breakfast ready, and worse! no gifts from Santa! No Barbie house for Margalit and no new silver bike for me.
'Yes, officer' said Aunt Edna. 'He was here last night. He was...' she caught sight of us two girls in our pyjamas. '...responsible for guiding Santa to our house.'
We were aghast! Not only no presents from Santa, but no Uncle Frank either! What on earth was happening this Christmas Morn?
We looked in all the cupboards and in all the rooms - no sign of Uncle Frank.
We wandered through the house, calling his name.
Suddenly, we heard something, very faint. A voice calling 'Edna! Edna!' We hunted high and low, but the voice was loudest in the living room, near the fire. We peeked into the grate and turned our little faces upward to peer into the chimney.
'Found him!' we yelled.

Half an hour later, Uncle Frank was carefully winched to safety by the local fire brigade. Margalit and I watched open-mouthed as the big man was lowered to the ground, still gripping a sack in one hand and a bottle of Wild Turkey in the other. His red suit was tattered and the white beard dangled from one ear.
He was black from head to foot, except his eyes which were red! Needless to say, the bottle was empty.
We gave him some water, then some nice hot coffee to help him recover. Meanwhile, dad took the sack and laid it by the tree.

I peeked in the sack. Sure enough, there were two gifts - one marked cq and one marked Margalit. But something wasn't quite right.

'Uncle Frank!' I yelled, stomping into the kitchen while he rinsed his face in the sink.
'yes cq, honey?' he asked wearily.

'where's my new silver bike!?!'

cq

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Crazie Weather Report

IT'S SNOWING!!

Perfect weather to go and see Narnia....

cq

CRAZIE CHRISTMAS PARTY 2005

The tree looked lovely, the felines were hiding, the presents were stacked anyoldhoo under the pretty lights, the table was full, the children (LMD, LMB and A Jnr) were leaping around yelping and the grownups (Aginoth, Mrs A, sleepy, weeble, cyberkitten and me) were attempting to hold 'conversation'........

Sounds idyllic, doesn't it? Here's some pictures (all with the subjects' or the subjects' parent's permissions)

Aginoth and the two elder Aginothlings learning the finer points of Frustration! This was utterly adorable - once we pulled A Jnr away from his new Pokemon Annual :-)

LMD - the only way to stop her wailing was to make sure she didn't catch sight of CQ! Each time I passed near her or looked at her, the lip quivered and the wail set up......and to her disgust everyone laughed - no one understood!!

This rather cute Jawa-esque person is our weeble. A bloglurker, and a sweet friend to us all. Over the years, many of us have relied on his sturdy spirit and strong friendship.

A Jnr watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory intently (the Depp version, of course!), one of my pressies from the Aginoths. This was accompanied by random shrieks of 'turn it up, I can't hear it! Excuse me! [he's a very polite child :-)] Turn it up!' as the silly grownup chatter got louder and louder....

Animal allergies sadly got the better of Mrs A [next time, take your Piriton *before* coming!] and she couldn't bed the children down in my bed, so they got to stay up very late. That being said, once they got past 'tired' they were actually very good, cuddling and snuggling mummy and daddy while we watched Charlie.

rca and K bowled up at 9.30 from another event, just in time to have half an hour with the Aginoth's before they peeled off home with three very tired babies.

We sadly said our farewells to the Aginoths [and yes, I got my Huggy Hug from Aginoth! - it's a bit of a tradition!] and they strapped their children in, packed in all the bags of gifts and toddled off down the M5.

'oh, good - I can let the felines out' I sighed with relief.

'er - is it all right if you don't?' asked a suffering K - yep, another allergic! So the felines stayed locked up while we sat and discussed......um.....stuff that should stay between six dear friends!

The girls wandered off tiredly to catch the footie at 11, which left me and my boys; cyberkitten, sleepy and weeble. I leapt up, new DVD in hand and put Jasper Carrott on the TV. GREAT late night TV. We were all weeping with laughter in no time.......

My boys left at midnight (I suggested this time they not slumber over in the usual tradition given the current war state in our house! :-O]

Oh, and I have the results of my Christmas Memory game - watch this space :-)

Two last pictures.......

This is the sight that greeted me this morning..........

'Whatcher doing wiff my tree, Mama........??'

no comment!

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

One Last Effort

Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a tree. Here is my fourth regeneration of our tree this year.

Please note Geoffrey the Polar Bear standing, well, sitting guard! :-)

And if Charlie kills it again before the party tonight, I am going to rip what are left of his balls off!!

[sweet smile]

What I Watched Yesterday

With Charlie hiding in disgrace most of the day and evening, Pandora sleeping off the latest battle, and MB off golfing and disappearing to his parents, I watched some *serious* TV yesterday.

First up I watched 5ive Days to Midnight; all five episodes back to back (thank god for Sky+!). Starring Timothy Hutton (who's only claim to fame in my book is that he is the son of Jim Hutton - the DREAMY Ellery Queen of the 70's!) and Randy Quaid (left); one of the most under-utilised gifted actors of his generation - overshadowed by his younger better looking brother Dennis.
JT Neumeyer finds a strange briefcase with police documents detailing his own death, in five days time. Can JT unravel the mystery (and the origin of the mysterious briefcase) before the clock runs down?
This was rather good, and I wouldn't sniff at the opportunity of having it on DVD. Randy was superb, as ever, and Timothy put in a sterling performance as the tortured JT. Kudos to Gage Golightly (there's a name for Hollywood, if ever I heard one!) as his daughter, Jessie.
She was sparkling and honest in her performance.
But, as ever, it was Randy who stole the show - illustrating that, although he had fun playing morons (Christmas Vacation etc), Quaid Major is a cracking actor!!
(Of course, I already knew that - one of my fave films is an independent called 'Roomates' about living with AIDS and he is OUSTANDING in that!)

The other thing I watched yesterday was Bride and Prejudice starring the utterly gorgeous Naveen Andrews (left). Of course, people may know him better from Lost, but he is not Iraqi - he is a British Indian.
This is a Bollywood musical based (loosely, very loosely!) on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, in which Mrs. Bakshi is eager to find suitable husbands for her four unmarried daughters. When the rich single gentlemen Balraj and Darcy come to visit, the Bakshis have high hopes, though circumstance and boorish opinions threaten to get in the way of romance.
They even fit in Wickham, Mr Collins (Kholi Sahib!) and the awful Mrs Darcy :-)
It was a popcorn movie (although I hate popcorn!), and it was good fun. Colourful, noisy, beautiful women, handsome men - typical Bollywood. And boy! is that Aishwarya Rai beautiful!
I could even follow the Austen original - although Wickham appeared romantically out of the waves at Goa!

Fun, fun, fun.... :-)

Popcorn Movie (definition): A movie which based on its merits of proper story-telling techniques, unique style and believable characters, would fail on all counts. A Popcorn Movie is a film that allows you to turn off your brain before viewing, crunch down on plenty of nachos and popcorn without having to worry about missing any relevant dialogue, and revel in its lunacy of plot, excessive action sequences and shallow objectives. It is NOT a film to take seriously.

oh and btw - Happy Birthday to the indescribably gifted Denzel Washington and also to the Queen of UK cinema, Dame Maggie Smith!

cq

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Holiday Tuesday

Morning all,

Our Christmas Tree is completely demolished - Charlie was obviously busy last night. In fact, I have taken it down and put it in the downstairs closet until tomorrow, and until I can face rebuilding it again.

Cats have done nothing but argue and fight and Pandora took to her bed for two days (at one point I had to take her food in there too!) just getting up for her toilette then creeping back. I honestly thought she was going to the Bridge.

I have another nasty cold.

My Christmas dinner substitute went in the bin - it was awful! :-( Knew I couldn't cook....

My phone/computer link suddenly doesn't work and I can't upload some lovely pictures of the felines. Update - I think the feckin' modem is fecked.. :-(

I am *so* tired.

MB has toddled off to his golf competition today. He'll stay for lunch and then come home before heading off to his parent's for a few days. So, here starts *my* holiday.......

Tell UM to *get lost* - failed
Take Paracetamol for my cold - didn't bother
Hoover and clean the house - check
Clear through some laundry - check
Nap - didn't bother
Fix the tree - can't face it
LMD-proof the house - it's as LMD-proof as it's gonna get

And tomorrow, my darling cyberkitten will be coming over to help me prepare for the Crazie Christmas!

cq

Monday, December 26, 2005

St Stephen's Day

Boxing Day is the following day after Christmas Day. Like Christmas Day it is also a national holiday in England.
The name goes back to medieval times, more than 800 years ago, when alms boxes were placed at the back of every church to collect money for the poor. Traditionally, it is on this day that the alms box at every English church is opened and the contents are distributed to the poor.

Historians say the holiday developed because servants were required to work on Christmas Day, but took the following day off. As servants prepared to leave to visit their families, their employers would present them with Christmas boxes.
The Christmas boxes were made from clay and were not made in the shape of a box. They were hollow clay balls with a slit in the top.

During the late 18th century, Lords and Ladies of the manor would "box up" their leftover food, or sometimes gifts and distribute them the day after Christmas to tenants who lived and worked on their lands.

The tradition of giving money still continues today. It is customary for householders to give small gifts or monetary tips to regular visiting trades people (the milkman, dustman, coalman, paper boy etc.) and, in some work places, for employers to give a Christmas bonus to employees.

Boxing Day is also known as St. Stephen's Day (when Good King Wenceslas looked out).
'Good King Wenceslas looked out, On the Feast of Stephen...........'

He lived in Rome and was the first man to be killed for believing in the teachings of Jesus. His story is told in the Acts of the Apostles 6: 1 to 8: 2.
Some people claim that he shares this day with another St Stephen, who came from Sweden. St Stephen of Sweden is the patron saint of horses. Boxing Day has long be associated with outdoor sports, especially horse racing and hunting.

Traditionally Boxing Day is a day for fox hunting. Horse riders dressed in red and white riding gear with a pack of hounds chase foxes through the country side.
Before a Boxing Day Hunt, the huntsmen and huntswomen would drink hot wine. Hunting with dogs is now illegal in the UK.

Boxing Day is usually the day when families travel to meet together if they spent Christmas Day at their own home. It is a day of watching sports and playing board games.

Recently some shops have broken from tradition and started opening on Boxing Day to start the New Year sales. Hundreds of people now spend Boxing Day morning in queues outside shops, waiting to be the first to dive for the sales racks as the doors opened.

It is unlucky to kill a wren on any day apart from Boxing Day. A tradition not carried out today was the Hunting of the Wren on Boxing Day. Groups of young boys would hunt a wren and then tie the dead bird to the top of a pole, decorated with holly sprigs and ribbons. With blackened faces, the group would sing at houses in hopes for coins, gifts or food.
"The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
On St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,
Up with the penny and down with the pan,
Give us a penny to bury the wren."
Those that gave money to the boys would receive a feather from the wren as thanks. The collected money was then used to host a village dance.
This odd ritual was not restricted to England. It was prevalent in some continental countries on Boxing Day as well as the Isle of Man, Wales and Ireland.

I call it St Stephen's Day, not Boxing Day - which still confuses some people!

Oh and by the way.........The Twelve Days of Christmas, or Twelvetide, are the festive days from Christmas to Twelfth Night (the eve of the Epiphany), or December 25 to January 5 - not the 12 days before! :-)

cq

Is there a Santa Claus?

As the midnight bell tolls around and Christmas is over for another year, I offer my blogging friends a reprise of what is widely regarded as one of the most popular editorials ever written.
The work of an editorial writer named Francis Pharcelius Church, a former Civil War correspondent, it first appeared in The New York Sun in 1897 as a response to a question submitted by 8-year-old Virginia O'Hanlon.

Is there a Santa Claus?

We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

Dear Editor!
I am 8 years old.
Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
Papa says, "If you see it in The Sun it's so."
Please tell me the truth: Is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon.
115 West Ninety-Fifth Street.

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias.

There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal life with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernatural beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Long Live Santa!!

cq

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Crazie Christmas Advent Calendar 23

This post is going to remain at the top over the festive weekend for all to play.
Check below for new posts!

WRITE A TINY REMEMBRANCE FOR THE HOLIDAYS

As this was my last day at work for a week or so, It's time to play!

In true blogger tradition this has been passed on to me by Oldoldlady! It has been edited it a tiny bit because it is Christmas....but, don't let that stop you from being as creative as your dear little heart desires....

RULES: If your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment here on my blog with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL CHRISTMAS MEMORY of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.
And, if you feel like it, when you're finished leaving your comment, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) with the memories people create....(isn't this fun?)

Oh my, I can't believe I'm doing this - considering my readership [closes eyes]....and as always, anything goes, my Crazies....

edit - wow....lots of boozy stories - do you guys know me or something!? Oh, and Neolithic; eric is gonna freak :-) [evil chuckle]

edit 2 - I am concerned at the amount of drink and sex in these memories....which could possibly suggest why I don't remember them!! :-) Bring it on!

edit 3 - doing well here! I have 'quality time' [snigger] with eric [rotflmao], the delish centaur [dribble], Dudley Moore [nurse!] and Jean-Luc Picard [falls off chair]! I have been a busy little queen! Oh, and Dak-Ind - I NEVER call mummies and daddies home......satisfaction guaranteed....actually, you could say the same about my memorable couplings! :-)

edit 4 - lots of lovely stories! Some made me sigh, some made me cry, some made me dream and some reduced me to helpless laughter. And this is where my Crazie Christmas Game is to begin.......watch this space on the 29th, and Crazies - your help will be needed on the 28th!

So this is Christmas....

MERRY CHRISTMAS

AND

HAPPY RAMAHANUKWANZFEST

TO

ALL!!

craziequeen

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Crazie Christmas Advent Calendar 24-2

Do I look good in this multi-coloured tinsel?

If I sneak up behind this garland, they won't notice til I'm half way up the tree!

cq

I have cooked!

Not chopped, heated through and sauce added....

I have crumbed, pureed, boiled, mashed, 'finely' chopped(!), whipped, mixed, seasoned and now am cooking....

And what am I cooking?

taa daa!!

CQ's Christmas Loaf!

'Borrowed' from a recipe I found on the web; I removed the chestnut puree bit (YUCK) and added pureed Quorn mince instead. Nicer and a darker brown. Also my first time with a food processor - noisy but fun!

Something for me for tomorrow.....while MB tucks into his turkey.

Hopefully it'll be nice with roasties, carrots, sprouts, and all the trimmings... :-)

edit - btw now I know why I don't cook........yuck! :-(

cq

Great Expectations.....

Most depressing thing a husband can say to a wife.....

wife: I'll stay downstairs, to give you privacy to wrap your secret pressies.

husband: There aren't any secret pressies!

[sob]

cq

Crazie Christmas Advent Calendar 24 - 1

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem 'Twas the Night before Christmas' also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822. The tradition of reading 'Twas the Night before Christmas' poem on Christmas Eve is now a worldwide institution.

cq

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Crazie Christmas Advent Calendar 22

A Christmas Ramble

I have been thinking that my advent has been very self-obsessed. Sure, there have been the odd crowd pleasers, but mostly it has been about me. Which is really rather sad.

Before the Christmas Spirit comes on Saturday, I would like to ramble slightly in my advent.

Christmas is a difficult time of year for so many. Recent blogging activities have made me realise what today's advent should be.

Animal blogging owners and I have been regularly visiting a blog run by The Cowboy for his beloved cat Eponine who became poorly. Sweet Eponine went to Rainbow Bridge yesterday at the magnificent age of 14, and all us pet owners feel for the Cowboy and have sent messages of support.

Animal or human, the loss of a friend or loved one is very sad.

On the international front, there is no news on Norman Kember. We keep him in our thoughts and prayers that the group holding him will be merciful and return him to his family for Christmas.

We remember the victims of the London bombings in July and wish their families and the survivors a peaceful Christmas with happy memories of those no longer near.

We remember all those injured and affected by the fuel depot blaze at Hemel Hempstead only a couple of weeks ago, and hope they will recover.

We remember the people who lose loved ones at Christmas, surely the worst time to lose a dear member of the family or close friend.

We remember those in hospital, those who will be in hospital over Christmas, and those who will be sitting by a bedside at Christmas.

We keep in mind those affected by others' cruelty or thoughtlessness over the Yuletide period.

We remember those who cannot be with their family or friends for Christmas.

We keep in our thoughts those still recovering from the Asian Tsunami and the devastating hurricanes in the US. And to the countless people affected by natural or man-made disasters the world over.

There is so much sadness in the world, but there is so much opportunity to give succour and comfort in some small way.

I received a gift today with the card 'Thanking you for all your kindness and support this year' from one of my staff. And there was me thinking that with all I could do within my powers as his boss, I wished I could do more. But he and his wife were comforted by what little I did do.

Spread some goodwill, peace and joy this Christmas. After all, isn't that what it's all about?

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Crazie Christmas Advent Calendar 21

A Merry Christmas Mission

I borrowed this from dawn. I have taken out one or two teeny sentences, but other than that, this pretty much sums up how I feel too.

I'm on a "Merry Christmas" mission and I'm in full throttle.
My little yellow VW Beetle has turned into a Christmas billboard with Merry Christmas written across the back window. Yes, I've decided to trek off to work everyday on the public highways with a message that seems to offend people.
At stop lights, I even turn my music up a little louder, and to top it off, I sing along with it. Don't I know that stopping at a red light to roll my windows down only to share the joy of Christmas carols on public streets is a No-No? Don't I fear the Christmas Gestapo and those who would have me remove the written message from my car?
LEAVE THAT MANGER ALONE! We've allowed the Baby Jesus to be kicked out of His lowly manger, and those offended by Christmas are still not happy.
I refuse to let this happen. I'm going to do my part to make sure "Merry Christmas" doesn't become extinct. Because like it or not, if the believers in Christmas don't take a stand now, it's gone forever.
Listen folks, the Christian community has been underestimated before; we will have to show ourselves again.
I walked into a Wendy's Restaurant the other day and was rather exuberant with my "Merry Christmas" greeting to the manager. He didn't have much of a response and I said, "Where's your Christmas spirit?" He said, "We're not allowed to use the words "Merry Christmas" when greeting customers. We can only say "Happy Holiday."
This morning I grabbed a quick breakfast at a Whataburger Restaurant. I noticed there wasn't a single decoration in the store. I asked the manager why they weren't decorated for Christmas. He told me the corporate headquarters decided not to send any decorations to any of their stores, and he didn't know why.
After I heard about all the Macy's and Federated Stores taking down their Merry Christmas signs, the Target stores not allowing the Salvation Army to "Ring the Christmas bells," and the many incidents of children, choirs, and bands not allowed to play or sing Christmas carols, I realized it was happening right here in my own little Texas town.
How can this be? Not Texas!We do, however, have a store, Hobby Lobby, that plays nothing but Christmas carols during the season. On Christmas Day they run a full page ad in our local newspaper. That ad is not to promote the store, but uses the entire page to tell the story of Jesus' birth. Now that's taking a stand. We need to thank them.
When I saw a news report the other evening of children being taught new words to a song we've sung for years -- "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" - I was saddened to hear "We Wish You a Splendid Holiday." (Unbelievable.)
I know now that it's just a matter of time that the "Merry Christmas" greetings will be gone. Look around your town. Notice the "Holiday" greetings and not "Christmas." It's happening right before our very eyes.
Start singing the songs; go down the streets singing to your heart's content. Get some of those wash-off markers that these kids use to write on their car windows when they're rooting for their hometown football team. It's easy to do, and if a torrential rain washes it off, write it on there again.
The story of this "Baby Jesus" alone has brought about more goodwill at this time of year than any other day we celebrate. How can we sit back and allow Him to be snuffed out of our lives?Is it Jesus, or is it His followers that the "offended" don't like? What kind of revulsion galvanizes one to campaign so vehemently against the mere mention of His name, the mere singing of a carol, or the mere visual of a sign that says "Merry Christmas?"
I can listen to my own boss at work use some of the vilest words and follow up with, "Excuse my French." I may cringe inside at his damning of God's name, but I tolerate it. So if you don't like me wishing you a "Merry Christmas," I'll say, "Excuse my joy." You may cringe that I celebrate the birth of Jesus, but you can just tolerate it.
I cannot be concerned that "Merry Christmas" offends you. If I'm not careful, the day will come when saying I'm a Christian will offend you.
I'm offended that you're offended. How about that?
When we get to a point that we can no longer take part in a tradition we hold dear, we have no choice; we either defend that tradition or we give it up to those who say NO. That's it . . . period. So, which will it be?
I'm not giving up my "Merry Christmas" joy to anyone. If I know of someone that celebrates another holiday during this time of year, I will be glad to wish them whatever holiday they want. Just tell me what it is and I'll shout it to the world and wish you a grand celebration.
Just give me Christmas. To you merchants: Stop being so hypocritical and "filling your tills" on the back of Jesus! Who do you think is the symbol of giving at this time of year? It was the wise men bringing gifts to the newborn Christ-child.
You want your coffers full, but have ordered your employees to take down all the Merry Christmas signs. If that's the case, I'll buy gifts at a place that understands my joy.
It's okay to jump into the "Merry Christmas" spirit when it fills your cash register, but let's call it something else . . . and don't stop giving . . . and don't stop buying. . . we'll just change the name and you'll never know the difference.
I know the difference and I'm feeling it greatly. It's hard not to be aware that townships across the US have actually banned the singing of Christmas carols because it might offend someone. And it's not just the religious songs; it's the secular ones, too. No more "Jingle Bells" or "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" because they're associated with Christmas. Boy, aren't we getting sensitive?
If we're not celebrating Christmas for the hope it gives . . . there is no hope!

I noticed a few years ago that the name of Abraham Lincoln's and George Washington's birthday was changed so as to be all inclusive regarding the Presidents. Hark, if we should recognize anyone as exceptional. Now it's called Presidents' Day.
Well, if we're going to be so all inclusive, next month I'll have to refer to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day as Civil Rights Leaders' Day. We don't want to exclude great Americans like Rosa Parks or Cesar Chavez, do we? And to think that Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton might be left out.
We might need to change Mother's Day, Father's Day, and Grandparents' Day to All Parents' Day. Just lump them all together.
It sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? So what's the difference?My freedom to celebrate Christmas in the tradition of the Christian religion is as much my right as it is your right to be offended by it. So what are we going to do? Did anyone hear me . . . what are we going to do?
Do we defend a person's right to go forward with a time tested tradition, or do we defend a person's right to end it all because they're offended? As long as we live in this great land and have the freedom to express ourselves and what we believe in, we will always offend someone.
If we try to make everything right for everyone, we won't have anything for anyone.
May you always have Christmas in your heart!
And, a Very Merry Christmas to you!

Christmas is Christmas, it's the way it always has been, and the way it always will be!! God willing.

Just as an update - I was shopping in the Mall last night for a couple of last minute thoughts. Although the Mall is heavily decorated, has a Christmas Market, Santa's castle, ice rink and the tills were clanging away - only one sales assistant said cheerfully 'Merry Christmas!', I turned back with a beaming smile and said 'Merry Christmas to you too!'

Thank you that young man in Waterstones bookshop :-)

cq
picture from http://www.sydneystampstall.com/products/all_products.html

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Quick! Look!

Before the demon feline wrecks it again!!

Mind you, the deccies came as a surprise and he managed to get himself stuck! Just tinsel and lights and my precious santas (too high for him to reach!) - easy to rebuild without baubles.
It was so pretty, I turned the lights off and stared at it for about 15 minutes :-)

No pressies underneath yet - I am not going to tempt fate! Those are still locked in a cupboard!

24hr update - it's still standing, a bit battered, but still standing. Tinsel is still intact (mostly), ancient Canadian Santas untouched and the lights still work! And the feline demon seems to be beginning to lose interest [x's fingers]

But I am still bending branches back into shape where he has slept on them - being a big little ginger fluffball!

48hr update - the tree is still standing - just. Sadly, Charlie has noticed the Santas and two of them ended up on the floor (luckily undamaged). The tinsel is a mess, the tree is all bent out of shape and the lights are becoming knotted.

Two things I said to MB (safely back from his travels) as I stubbornly bent the tree back into shape, replaced the tinself and recovered my Santas.

I am going to have my Christmas tree if it kills me!'

'These Santas have hung on a Christmas tree for over 40 years - they will hang on it this year!'