Farrago fatigans!

- Thuffering thuccotash!

Okay, so I did it. I was the guilty party. I jammed the kitchen drains on Christmas Eve.

We had a crowd over for dinner, and Mary had made great Scampi with Angel Hair Pasta. The pasta was my downfall. We had cooked way too much of the pasta, and seeing that it had gummed together I made the Executive decision to grind it down the disposal.

It actually went right on through the disposal without a hitch - but the problem came deep in the bowels of the drains, where it apparently grabbed on and began to swell, forming a massive concrete-like clot that backed up into the sink.

Given the fact we still had a houseful of guests I did what every responsible homeowner would do - I gave it a shot of Liquid Plumber and turned off the lights.

Obviously the liquid Plumber was no match - all it did was anger the clot and make the kitchen smell like a toxic waste site. I began to image the swelling clog oozing up into the kitchen, gripping the sink and devouring guests who came close to drop off a glass or plate. There was an occasional burp, like a scene of the La Brea Tar pits swallowing a fallen dinosaur.

Fortunately the drain from the kitchen is separate from the bathrooms so the problem did not take an even uglier turn. Of course to have it repaired would mean a visit from the Roto-Rooter man, with whom we are now on a first-name basis. It was not until this morning, however that we were able to get the mess undone, meaning that Christmas Dinner has had to be postponed as we did not want to make a big mess that could not be cleaned up.

And as I said at the beginning, I alone am to blame. I should have instructed a guest to do the deed, so that I could have shifted the responsibility. Note to self; Throw away excess pasta- do not put into the Garbage Disposal. Pasta is evil.

catarrhine

- Def: of, like or pertaining to Old World Monkeys

I happened across this word today in a dictionary of obscure terms. I have no idea what it means, but given its Monkey reference I did have to take pause. Not only Monkeys but Old World Monkeys. Is this a reference to monkeys found in Africa vs the "new world" of the Americas - or is it (as I would much prefer to think) a reference to Monkeys that have a proclivity for all things old and historic. I like to envision a monkey in a Sedan Chair, being toted toward the marketplace while smoking a Hookah and sipping Meade. It is just an image to me, in fact a proper image given the proud carriage of even the most simple of simian.

I suppose it is because I can relate, because I am myself somewhat Old-Worldly. It is not that I dislike technology or the comforts that have become almost too available to the average human in recent times, but the lure of the Smoking Jacket beckons - if only I did not have to smoke in it. I do have a red fez on my night-stand; I wear it now and then, but I have to admit it itches a bit, so it is mostly for momentary effect and mostly for Mary's amusement. But it does remind me every morning and every night that I have a great heritage, and that every day needs to be lived as if heading for an exotic marketplace, where any corner can yield something entirely new.

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.

- John Masefield

So it is - the Sea of Centralia has parted. We had pretty thoroughly concurred that there was no way we would be passing through Centralia this weekend to visit family in Seattle, but proverbially the rain stopped, the snowplows chugged through the muck on I-5 and (reportedly) the way is cleared. I have to comment that we have been watching the news with some bemusement these past days, especially when the reporter on the screen, standing hip-deep in the roadbed and commenting that the DOT was assuring them that the road would re-open last evening, while at the very same time the news-wire across the bottom reported that DOT said the roads would be closed through the weekend. You would think the news-guys would read the wire, but I suppose they were too busy tracking the salmon that were making headway up the interstate toward Olympia.

Of course, we are not there yet... but we are going to give it a stab. Mom grew up in Centralia, and despite coming down with Scarlet Fever she and Aunt Buddy went paddling around town in a rowboat back in 1918. You have to wonder why people continue to live in the lowlands of Centralia - it is one of those communities where it is no question that it will flood - just a question as to how deep. You'd think they'd at least put their houses up on blocks...it might take a ladder to get to the front door but at least there'd be no Sea-Urchins clinging to the couch. So anyway, Mary, Papi and I will venture off tomorrow toward Seattle; the Sea has parted for us, I have to guess it is a sign.

An idealist is one who, on noticing that roses smell better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make better soup.

...A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.
- H. L. Mencken



My car smells great. I stopped a few days ago to buy the cedar garlands we string around the front porch every year about this time, and the back seat was all loaded for a couple of days which left a lingering scent that I look forward to now every time I head for the car. It is like one of those tree-shaped air-fresheners that you hang on the mirror, only better. I considered for a while not putting the garlands up on the house, but just continuing to drive around with them in the back seat like a passenger. Guessing that would be a bit odd, I thought of dressing it up in a Santa suit, which would work given the fact i drive the Crown Victoria, (AKA Das Boot) which already looks like a Taxi...but suppose that going everywhere with a big stuffed Santa in the back might strike an observer as odd - especially if I were to be asked about it and I were to reply that I keep him there because he smells good.



So I took them out and hung them on the porch. There is a substantial array of needles and sticks still in the carpet in the back which I suppose I ought to vacuum out - but hey this is Oregon, the car is supposed to look like it just drove out of a forest, right?



I wonder though, why can't anyone make the tree-shaped things smell like that? They tend to smell a bit obnoxious and definitely chemical. Why don't they make them hollow and just stuff them with cedar needles instead of the undoubtedly-toxic stuff they have in them? I'd buy one. In fact the thought of using the little shape to hold natural scents that just match up with a car's personality leads me to all kinds of ideas - how about coffee beans? Maybe French Fries? Or cookies - which when hit by sunshine or the heat from the the dashboard vents would emit the smell of chocolate chips right out of the oven? Or for the dog, maybe some dessicated liverwurst?

It is just such a shame that the makers of these things don't think far enough out of the box. Who cares about dead-flower smell or lab-made pine. I remember when I was a kid, unbeknownst to my dad I brought some live sand-dollars back from the beach, under the seat of the car. The smell lasted a very long time. I don't think he appreciated it as much as I did - frankly I thought it a really good reminder of where we had been - a lasting souvenir if you will. The thought comes now of a little tree shape stuffed with kelp and beach sand.

Ah, but the best ideas go undiscovered don't they. We all have to bow to the common ideal. So I guess I will have to settle for getting up and heading out to the car to drive to Starbucks. Cedar and coffee. Does it get any better than that?