On The Thirteenth Day of Christmas.........

Tis the time to be unjolly. Fa La etc. As Old Man Winter drones on, Old Man Santa and his Elves head back to the North Pole. Unfortunately they don't bother to clean up the seasonal debris that accumulated in homes of good little girls and boys around the world. We may not be the best little boy and girl in town but we do have a giant share of Christmas debris, aka decorations. There comes a time when the moon, stars and tinsel are aligned and the magical light that glows from every nook and cranny in our little antique palace starts to dim. (Let me tell you, there's nothing worse then a dim cranny) Suddenly out of the dimness emerges...The Spirit of Christmas is Over. When she swings into action a wise old man finds safe haven before he gets swept up and packed into one of the many plastic totes that cover the back wall of our garage. An amazing fact is that after taking into consideration the amount of things that are broken, worn out, or given away, we usually end up with just a little more heading back to the garage than came out of there only a few short months ago. Another thing that always puzzles me is that no matter how carefully and systematically things are packed away, next year one or more keepsakes will be missing for at least a few weeks only to turn up one of the Easter decorations totes. As the last tote finds its proper spot on the garage shelves the old guy creeps out of his hiding spot only to realize that his part of this seasonal ritual has yet to be tackled. Here's where Mother Nature springs to the rescue in the form of snow and cold weather. Yep it's the old "Outside Lights". The weather along with "Old Folks" warnings by the weather guy on TV give me a little reprise and a simple unplugging will add to the "seasons over" appearance. I promise, on the first warm, snow-free day, I'll be out there with my ladder, risking life and limb pulling those lights off my gutters.
Now as we settle back enjoying the new year and waiting for the arrival of the next Grandkid, (due any time now) the house takes on an almost serene atmosphere. But, it won't be long before those afore mentioned Easter totes will appear in our dining room and bunnies, eggs and chicks are the main attraction for a month or so. Then comes Autumn (Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations) and then the "Return of the Christmas Totes" starts again. I must admit that Jo does a wonderful job keeping our place cheerfully decorated and doesn't ask much help from me other than to stay out of the way during the metamorphosis. (except the dreaded "Outside Lights") So, for now I'll just unplug those "Outside Lights" and admire my nonseasonal house until the minor holiday stuff shows up (Valentines Day, St. Patrick's Day and Groundhog Day).

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

The "Staging Area" formerly the dining room table. All decorations must pass through this area before and after the Christmas Season.

A rare peek at the tote toting "Spirit of Christmas Over".

"Seven Swans Asinging!"

Even though these swans were actually laughing at me, I knew that this photo would come in handy when I had absolutely nothing to post during the holidays. These birds are migrating to their wintering grounds on Chesapeake Bay. Migrating during the day and night, their trumpeting calls are heard at a great distance as they fly along in V-formation. The swans can achieve speeds up to 100 miles per hour with a tail wind. Enough factual stuff. This particular group actually sticks around the area through December performing at various Holiday events. On many evenings you can find these guys hanging out with a Partridge, some Colly Birds, French Hens, Geese and a couple of Turtle Doves at one of the local saloons on the Wisconsin side of The River. The dancing and milking chicks along with those leaping lords do their thing to the piping and drumming on the Minnesota side. The last time they all gathered in the same joint all hell broke loose. One of the leaping lords got goosed and a turtle dove got shelled while some of the maids got tangled up trying to milk the bagpipes. Since then they are only allowed to get together for performances of their signature song and then for no more than twelve days. Then it's "take your gold rings and get outta town!". With that explained I'll pack up my bag of goodies and head off to wonderland for a dose of hot chocolate and some of the leftover cookies Santa couldn't finish.

Easy to see how a mistake could be made in a dimly lit bar!

Chex Mix Roasting on an Open Fire........

In our home nothing signals the start of the Holiday Season than the aroma of well seasoned Chex-Mix floating through the house on a crisp winter day. (Not counting adorning each and every window with candles) This year is no different. Except! That little wisp of aroma had a little more pungent flare to it. Like a good steak, Chex-Mix should not be cooked "well done". Seems that the new more powerful microwave is going through its first Holiday Season and doesn't quite know how to act in the face of good cheer. But have no fear all of you spicy finger tipped friends who hope to partake of the year's vintage. There is plenty of medium to medium well Mix to go around. Now, I'm not a big Chex-Mix snacker, (it don't mean a thing without that chocolate zing) but it does stir fine Holiday memories. Let me try to explain this. Experts may not agree on the accuracy of my account but, "who's telling this story?". Back around 1894 a couple of guys down in St. Louis introduced a hot wheat based breakfast cereal which was originally called Hot Ralstons. After some time people got lazy and didn't want to take the time and effort to heat up their morning mush so the guys at the St. Louis headquarters cooled things off by introducing an easier to prepare cold cereal that they called Shredded Ralston. In 1937 they changed the name to Wheat Chex. (a couple of years after I was named Ronald) The Chex name probably was derived from their St. Louis home, Checkerboard Square. About 10 years later the cousins, Rice Chex and Corn Chex arrived on the scene. As a kid I really liked Wheat Chex. That covers the Chex part of the story. Now the Mix. A major reason that I, and thousands of kids like me, gulped bowlful after bowlful of Wheat Chex was because of the endorsement of a great American cowboy hero of radio, movies and comic books, Tom Mix. Through ads in comic books and on his daily radio show Tom urged his loyal fans to eat Wheat Chex and grow up to fight evil like him. (The evil was mainly in the form of rustlers, bank robbers and ferocious injuns) And, as an incentive Tom offered numerous trinkets that could be obtained by merely sending in a few thousand Wheat Chex box tops and a dime or a quarter. Kids my age spent a great deal of time eating cereal and waiting by the mail box. So, that's the reason that the scent of Chex-Mix filling my home brings a tear to my eye. (expect this year when the smoke actually brought the tears) Chex that enabled me to keep our yard free of rustlers, bank robbers and ferocious injuns and the Mix in memory of my Ten Gallon Hatted Hero Tom. Here are a few pics to back up my story. And a little jingle that incouraged all us younguns.

Shredded Ralston for your breakfast Starts the day off shining bright;
Gives you lots of cowboy energy With a flavor that's just right!
It's delicious and nutritious, Bite sized, and ready to eat
Take a tip from Tom: Go and tell your mom:
"Shredded Ralston can't be beat!"

Checkerboard Square.
Oh! Did I mention that a lot of our four legged friends
grew up on Ralston Products?

Typical magazine ad for Shredded Ralston.

A man who needs no introduction!

Some of the fine, quality prizes that every
Red Blooded American boy could not live without.

The Lighting of the Lights...

Although I had a completely different Blog planned for today, the arrival of an annual tradition in the Blume household interrupted my thought process. It was JoAnne's ceremonial lighting of the window candles. Each year, after an extensive search for the properly hidden (put away for convenient finding) box containing the candles, extension cords, timers, extra bulbs, and batteries, the master plan goes into effect. This is a signal for me to go to the store or run some factitious errand. (Once all of the elements are found) Bulbs are tested, cords untangled, timers are set and that master plan starts to take shape. NASA produces a less complicated wiring diagram than what Jo's would look like if she had one. We have, I think, nineteen windows and being a really old house we only have four electrical outlets. This makes for some real ingenious configurations in the art of electrical wiring. I must admit that year after year the task tends to fall into place with greater ease and less cussing than the year before. In years, BT (Before Timers) turning the nineteen or so candles on and off was nearly as exciting as the installation process itself. And, BC (Before Cords) when all candles were battery powered, the procedure of going from window to window to twist loose each hot little bulb was the equivalent to Marine Corp basic training maneuvers. In both cases (BT and BC) it involved crawling under furniture, squeezing behind cabinets, hanging by your knees from the ceiling fan or blindly groping in the dark for an escaped candle that had thrown itself off it's proper windowsill. So this Thanksgiving I would like to share a thankful prayer with all who, at one time or another, may experience the warm glow of Christmas Candles beckoning welcome in a small town in Wisconsin.
"Thanks Lord for the many blessings you've showered on us, thank you so much for putting us in a place where we can freely express our joy at this time of year and, thanks for bringing tranquility to our home by providing us with extension cords and timers as well as the patience to install them. Amen!"
I wanted in insert a photo of the finished product but we seem to have blown a fu.....

Just In . . .Randy Moss picked up by Chicago

Cubs that is! Wow! I didn't see this coming. Although once the shock is gone and you have a chance to think about it. Why not? The Cubs have been picking up high paid castoff, temperamental, malcontents from other teams for quite some time. Most of these "stars" never play up to their expectations but do retain their ability to upset any team chemistry. Milton Bradley did this to perfection and guys like Alfonso Soriano, with salaries the size of The Dominican Republic just show up every day and, usually, manage dress in the correct uniform. So, what are the Cubs going to do with Randy? In football he caught balls that someone would throw to him. In baseball there's a guy behind the batter that catches balls that someone throws to him. Catcher would seem like a appropriate position for him. (and remember the Cubs had pretty good luck with a catcher named Randy once before) As a catcher he would get to wear a sort of helmet with a face guard. He's used to that. And when running the bases, should he ever get on, he has a number of moves he could employ to avoid being tagged. (run ninty feet, cut left) One other benefit of him catching is that being relatively tall (6-4) he could possibly block the view of smaller, easily intimidated umpires while explaining how his foot was in bounds when he caught the ball for a strike. This should be a win, win situation for the Cubs as they have been losing a lot of high salaried players and can't use that as leverage to raise ticket prices again this year. Who knows with a little luck, they may be able to grab Favre after either his arm or foot fall off. With the possibility of his successive starts streak ending it seems only natural for him to become a "Closer". 2011 might be an interesting season after all.

Randy's charming demeanor should be a real asset on and off the field, Wrigley.

Ryno to Vikings

Not to be left out in the cold (ha ha) the Minnesota Vikings announced today that they were picking up Hall of Fame, All Star Secondbaseman, Minor League Manager of the Year, (supposed 2011 Cub's Manager) Ryne Sandberg as a designated fan. It seems to be an appropriate move as he has already been left out in the cold by the Cubs.

Because his number, 23, has been pulled by the Cubs
Ryno opted to pick one that should last for a long, long, long time.

Sniff, Snort, Squirt

Last Monday night I had the pleasure of being entertained by a head full of ah . . . how shall I say . . . snot. It was my semiannual visit by Mr. Mucus and his Head Cold Gang. This phenomenon has always amazed me. Where does all that stuff come from? Where is it stored up for the rest of the year? In a four hour period that night I blew out and coughed up at least five gallons of some kind of semi-solid material. Now the last time I looked, it didn't seem like my head could hold five gallons of anything. I don't think any cavity in my body could contain the enormous amount of stuff that I expelled that night. During the day yesterday things kinda let up. Not much coughing or nose blowing although my voice turned into a device that could communicate with dolphins and sea lions. (I tried it on a Manatee, but he couldn't understand a sound I made) Last night Mr. Mucus and his buddies returned and the five or six gallons of their evil fluids were dispersed into dozens of Kleenexes strewn around the foot of the bed. In between gags and blows I amused myself playing Kleenex/waste basket basketball. (My left hand won by only seven points) This morning as I retrieved the errant shots, a chilling thought came to mind. I thought back to the days of my childhood (and a good part of childishhood) when each morning we would equip ourselves with a clean white handkerchief which was expected to contain all the nasal residue that one would encounter that day. Think about it, sneeze, cough, blow and stick back into your pocket only to pull it out again in a few minutes to repeat the routine. If you had the least bit of a cold, just putting your hand into your pocket was quite an adventure. I guess this fact alone should put Kleenex Tissues right near the top of "The Greatest Inventions of all Time" list. Once again, today the drippy, drooly, stuffiness has let up the voice isn't much better but I have no one to talk to anyway. I have considered making crank phone calls to various politicians who have been calling me for the past year. THis post probably isn't very interesting to most of you and there's nothing to be learned from it (Maybe you could tell your kids about how lucky they are that you don;t make them carry handkerchiefs) but, when you're laying around at night tossing wet Kleenexes the only other thing to do is come up with stupid subjects for a blog.
Gotta go, I have to head over to Walgreen's, they have Kleenex on sale.

I couldn't have said it better!

Hopefully I'll get some beneficial sleep the next couple of nights. I have about three dozen clocks to reset Saturday night. It's either that or move to Indiana. Speaking of time. As I surveyed the walls of clocks another thought came to mind. According to most of the clocks it was somewhere around 2:30. It dawned on me that next Thursday at this time it will be the same time. Now that's the stuff Nobel Prizes are given for.

How Many Fingers Do You See???

I don't know if you've noticed the recent news frenzy dealing with concussions. Every newspaper sport section, every sport commentary on TV and even that new fangled internet thing has run some kind of report on the "Problem". I even heard today that Major League Baseball is thinking of instating a new shorter CDL (concussion disabled list) mainly for players who suffer from concussions. It seems that concussions, also known as Badly Bruised Banged-around Brain Syndrome (BBBS) has no boundaries. All of us are susceptible . Just a simple palm to the forehead with a verbal "DAH!" can cause a mild case of BBBS. Although the Media has made me very aware of danger of random head banging, it didn't touch home until last weekend as we visited Summer, Reid and Baby Eddie. Eddie, who is in the early stages of crawling 101, was working on his "come from behind, grab Sammy's tail" technique, when he misplaced his little hand (or it could have been his little knee) and bonked his little bean on the floor. It didn't seem to bother him too much but it did make Sammy aware of his intention. The total Bonk was pretty minor but, what if it had been Bonky enough to cause BBBS? The natural protective Grandpa juices started flowing. How can I keep my little Eddie from going on the CDL? I rushed off to my laboratory. (in this case, the upstairs john. I guess that would make it my lavatory) Fortunately I had my slide rule T-square, compass and forceps along on the trip. In no time at all I managed to develop a suitable solution to the infant BBBS problem . . . The Crawler's Cranium Cap. A relatively simple solution. Reid's mom, Rita, is a world class spinner, weaver and knitter so a suitably smartly styled cap could be produced with no problem. The real safety factor lies in the lining of the CCC . . . Bubble Wrap. This material would not only act as a cushion in Bonk situations but the popping sound of the bursting bubbles would alert a possibly snoozing parent that little Junior just had a chance meeting with the floor. The lining could be easily replaced after all of its pop is pooped and the cap could be handed down generation to generation considering the parents decided to extend their family after realizing the apparent dangers involved. As Seen on TV ads were put into the works, a Spokesperson was named, and a price was set - $19.95 RPSLP (Ron Popeil's Suggested List Price) "But Wait if you call now we'll double the offer!!!" Sorry I got a little carried away. And a little ahead of myself. Reid, who is a little more detail oriented than I, took the time to do some research on the net thing and discovered that the "so-called" head case was already covered. Once again blindsided by a bunch of cheap imitators who just wait around for a guy to come up with an ingenious idea and then steal it. This isn't going to discourage me, I will continue to do my best to protect mankind from hidden dangers and Grandkids from Bean Bonks.

CCC spokesperson Marty Feldman states,
"If I had worn a CCC as a child, I might not have become a movie star".

Now, here's one safe kid!!!