Football Watching Day

Today was an exceptional fall day. Cloudless, blue sky to the horizon in every direction; temperature 62°, warm sun, light breeze. There might be prettier days in Heaven, but here on Earth you’d be hard-pressed to find a nicer day than today. In short, it was a perfect day for lounging in front of the TV and watching football while munching on pizza, popcorn, and salted nuts. So I did.

It seems like all my neighbors were wasting their day mowing grass. I wanted to say to them, “People, what are you doing? This isn’t a grass-mowing day, this is a football-watching day.” I watched the Redskins/Titans game. The ‘Skins won today; it was their first win in 5 games. Now it’s 4:30 and I should probably go for a walk. I hear walking is healthy. I’m skeptical, but now that the game is over, what else is there to do? The pizza is gone, the popcorn is finished, and the salted nuts are seriously damaged. A little voice in my head tells me walk it off. Ok, ok, I’m going.

(Time passes…)

I went to a nearby park beside the river that flows past my small city. I communed with Nature. I took photos. I had the park to myself and it was very peaceful. Now I’m back in time to watch the Cowboys/Giants game.

Photos (click any photo to enlarge):

Ice Cream

Ice cream. Who doesn’t love it?

I’ve never snorted cocaine, nor injected heroin, but if they’re more addicting than Cookies ‘n Cream ice cream, then I’m staying far, far away from both of them.

You’ve seen those 3-pint tubs of ice cream in grocery store freezers? Or as I sometimes call them late at night, single-serving tubs. They work like this:

Day 1. I buy a tub of ice cream and take it home. I eat a nominal “serving” (as defined on the side of the tub). I think, That can’t be a serving, and I eat another.
Day 2.  I eat three servings. Before getting into bed, I remove the tub from the freezer, and I get a spoon, and I nibble at and scrape away the lumpy surface of the ice cream so that it’s smooth as a billiard table. This amounts to at least one more serving, but I don’t count it because I’m just “neatening up” the ice cream.
Day 3.  I no longer bother with the pretense of servings. I attack the tub with a spoon until the ice cream is gone.

Cookies ‘n cream should be on the Schedule One drug list, and the stores that stock it should be guarded by the DEA.

That is why I rarely buy ice cream. I can handle it fine as long as it stays inside its tub in the store’s freezer.

Another thing: on the store’s freezer aisle, I was surprised to see all the 3-pint tubs. The last time I bought ice cream, it was sold in half-gallon cartons. When did everyone switch from half-gallon cartons to 3-pint tubs?  And why do single-pint tubs cost twice as much as 3-pint tubs?  (Store: “We have to charge extra for the convenience of the smaller container.” Me: “What?”) Incidentally, the half-gallon cartons did not last any longer than the 3-pint tubs.

You can measure the passage of time in America by the shrinkage of cans and cartons. Sixteen ounce cans went to 15 ounces, then 14.5 ounces. Six ounce cans of tuna went to 5 ounces, then to 4.5 ounces. A roll of toilet paper shrank to a half-roll, then went back to a full roll, which the manufacturers like to call a double-roll, but we all know it isn’t really a double roll – it’s just a roll. Though admittedly, a so-called double-roll is double the size of a half-roll. Maybe that’s what they mean. “You’re getting double the amount you would be getting if we sold you half as much as we’re selling you.” You can’t deny the logic.

I’ve wandered off the topic of this post, “Ice Cream,” and there’s only one thing to be done about it. It’s time to go to the freezer and see if the Cookies ‘n Cream is as tasty as it was yesterday. I’m really not an ice cream addict. Really, I’m not. I can stop eating it whenever I want to.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

[p.s.: This is Day 3. As foretold in the Prophecies, the tub is empty. My stomach is happy.]

Fall Again

It’s that time of year again in central Virginia. When I got up at 6 AM, the temperature was 49°. At 10 AM, it’s 60°. The sky is blue, the sun is bright, and trees are turning their fall colors. Brown leaves are gathering in street gutters and on sidewalks. Soon they’ll be in my yard, thanks to the neighbor’s willow oak.

The high temperature is forecast to be 78° today and 75° tomorrow. Then highs will drop to the mid-60s with nighttime lows in the high-40s. That’s ideal; no heat needed, no cooling needed. Some people leave a bedroom window partly open at night and sleep under a blanket.

In fact, I enjoy sleeping with a window cracked open, especially in summer. I like the smell of fresh air, of mist in the air, of falling rain. I like grasshopper songs, distant rumbles of thunder and locomotive air-horns on passing trains. I feel connected to the world.

On the last October day, my neighborhood throws a Halloween party in the park across the street. It started as a neighborhood party, a safe place  for local kids to go and have something to do. There’s a haunted house, a bounce house, a costume contest. There’s a tent where a young lady will tell you your fortune. And so forth, but you get the idea. There are free snacks and drinks, like pop corn, soft drinks, and apple cider. And, of course, lots of music. Naturally, people from all over the city began showing up, and it became a city party. Now people come from neighboring cities as well, which they’re asked not to do, because it’s just a neighborhood park, but people (and monsters and princesses) are going to do what they want to do, and that is to be around other costumed people on Halloween. The park now gets a quite a crowd of people of all ages on Halloween, from small kids to grandparents. This year’s party will be on a Friday evening. If the weather is good, I predict a large crowd and a good many monsters and princesses – even a few Britney Spears.

 

Gretchen of the Swiss Alps?  >>