I Hate the Whos, Too.

This kids and I were watching “How The Grinch Stole Christmas” a few days ago. It wasn’t on tv or anything, we just watched the video tape we’ve had banging around for the past few years. (I don’t think children today really get the wonder of watching a show or a movie any time you want to. We had to wait until it showed up on network tv, and if you happened to miss it that particular night, tough luck, sucker, you had to wait a whole year to catch it again. Now we can watch “The Wizard of Oz” or “Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown” all summer if we want. And we have.)
Watching the Grinch this time brought up a few questions in my mind that hadn’t occurred to me before. Like, if the Grinch is, in fact, THE Grinch and there are no others, where did he come from? Is he a separate species from the Whos or is he just a genetic mutation? He looks like the unholy love child of Yoda and Bea Arthur.

How does he get groceries up on Mount Crumpet, anyway?

I always felt so sorry for Max the Dog when I was a little kid. It seems to me that he didn’t like living with a Grinch, why didn’t he just up and leave? Was he suffering from a canine equivalent of Battered Woman Syndrome? Or was he worried that the Whos would kill him and eat him? After all, the exact origins of the Roast Beast was never determined. (In that vein, how do we know the Roast Beast isn’t one of the last surviving Grinches? Maybe the Grinch has a very legitimate reason to hate the Whos after all.)

I’m with the Grinch on the noise thing, by the way. If I had to listen to all that banging and shrieking and rattling and thumping for 53 years, I’d be in a roaring good snit, too. And the singing. Plus, having your shoes too small is a definite mood-killer.

Cindy Lou Who is a remarkably composed child to find Santa in her house and not even bat an eyelash. Man, I don’t know a single child that wouldn’t have screamed the house down. I mean, finding any stranger, let alone Santa, in your living room would give one quite a turn, I’d imagine. Also, I know the Grinch came down the chimney, but there seems to be some serious security issues in Who-ville, they may want to address that.

So, after they welcomed the Grinch into Who-ville and let him carve the Roast Beast, did he have to go back up to Mount Crumpet and live out his days in squalor and loneliness? And now that he’s nice, does he have to change his name and adopt an entirely new identity? Because he’s still green and furry, where the Whos are decidedly not; it’s not like he’s going to blend in.

See, maybe I was better off just watching it once a year.

Things That Make Me Irrationally Furious.

I like to think I'm fairly easy to get along with, my family's opinion notwithstanding. I'm not all that particular about my food, I don't take offense easily and I'm quite happy to go along with whatever's happening around me. I have very few black and whites in my life, and I'm pretty willing to listen to almost anyone's point of view. Having said that, I do find myself getting quite peevish about any number of things, most of which, I will admit, have no basis in reason whatsoever. I don't want to be someone who is defined by what they hate, but I have to admit, the following make my head explode.:

• Sudden loud noises. When someone drops the lid to a saucepan or the wind catches the screen door and it slams really hard, I am first startled and then infuriated. I think I'm infuriated because I hate being startled. Irrational, but true.
• Mispronouncing words. There was a woman I worked with who pronounced the word "sandwich" as "sangwich" and I wanted to throttle her long and hard. Also, "athlete" is two syllables, there is no "a" between the "h" and the "l", and the word "probably" has 2 "b"s in it, so should never, ever be said as "prolly".
• The theme song to "Three's Company". Also, most Christmas music.
• Bumping my knee or arm on the screen door. It doesn't help that the screen door doesn't care that it has hurt me.
• Opening a crinkly package, like potato chips, particularly when it takes longer than necessary. It is rational that this should bother me when I'm trying to hear a television or the radio, but it is completely irrational that I take umbrage at a ball game or at the park.
• Loud sneezes. You don't have to put that much effort into a sneeze; there is no need to involve your vocal chords whatsoever.
• Spelling the words "all right" and "a lot" as "alright" and "alot". They are separate words entirely.
• The wearing of baseball caps backwards. God, I hate that! It looks ridiculous and stupid altogether, and it irritates the living daylights out of me.
• The use of "impact" as a verb. This makes me shout at the television on a daily basis. No, you were not "impacted negatively", something "had a negative impact" on you. In the same vein, the use of the word "utilize" instead of "use" sends me into a murderous rage.
• When the Mister and Thing 2 have allergies, they sniffle. Constantly. I understand that they feel rotten and the sniffling is automatic, but when they are both in the same room with me, it's all I can do to squelch my indignation and not go all bat-shit crazy on them.

There are several things that do work me up something fierce that are completely rational, and should be outlawed immediately:

• People stopping in the fire lane at the mall to let someone out and then sitting there, waiting, until the person comes back out. There's an entire parking lot right beside them, and because they are still in the car and have the motor running, they don't consider themselves parked, and therefore not bound by the rules of parking. I disagree vehemently, and when I am made Queen of the Universe, this is going to be the first thing to be made punishable by death.
• Talking at the movie theatre. (During the movies, of course, I mean, I'm not that crazy that I'd outlaw it before or after. Okay, maybe I'd put some restricitions on it, but that's all.) The last time I went to the movie theatre, the two people behind us chatted throughout the movie as if they were sitting in their living rooms watching a DVD. Apparently, they did not notice the hundred or so people sitting in close proximity who had paid 10 bucks to watch the film with them. One of them even made a phone call. . The woman beside us asked (quite politely, I thought) if they could please be a bit quieter, and they were offended. Virtual privacy does not have a sound-proof barrier, people.
• Putting condiments bottles back in the fridge when they have approximately 1 tablespoon's worth of stuff in the bottom, and then going and opening a new bottle, and putting that in the fridge right beside it. I swear, there's not a jury in the land that would convict me if I murdered my whole family for this particular transgression. Especially if it was made up of married mothers who have to deal with this on a regular basis.

The Laws of Hairdressing.

I've been a hairstylist for over 20 years, and in the business for just over 25. (That means, I was a receptionist for 5 years before I actually took the plunge to hairdressing school.) and in the ensuing quarter century, I've discovered that the realm is ruled by the following rules....

The Laws of Hairdressing.

1. The woman that has curly hair wants it to be straight hair. The woman who has straight hair wants it to be curly hair. It is up to you to make it happen.

2. The later your first client of the day is, the earlier the rest of your clients will be for the rest of the day.

3. The bigger the breakfast you eat, the more time you will have for lunch later on. Conversely, the day you skimp on breakfast, thinking you will have time to go out and grab something, is the day you will book up entirely.

4. The client you think hates you and your work will be the first one in your chair when you come back from vacation or maternity leave. The clients you think are happy with you, you will never see again.

5. How people describe themselves will likely prove the opposite. The one who claims to be “low maintenance” or like a “natural look” will take up all the oxygen and the hairspray in the salon.

6. The sweet, lovely, clients for whom you will do anything will never ask you to do anything extra. They are precisely the ones you will want to do it for.

7. The client who complains bitterly and at length about the price you charge, will tell you all about their new kitchen renovations, the details about their recent Carribbean cruise, and the custom stools they had commissioned for the wet bar around their hot tub.

8. The last client of the day will be late.

I Said, Good MORNING!

This morning, as I was dozing on and off and waiting for the alarm to go off, Toby came running into the bedroom, as is his wont, as if he had been detained in some cold, foreign windowless jail for the past few months and had just been released and was meeting us at the airport. He bounded up on the bed, chirping and meowing and purring and kneading, all lovey-dovey and delighted to be in the same room as me. I was lying on my stomach and the Tobester got up on my back and proceeded to give me a reasonably effective back massage, when his attention was caught by my ear-plugs (which isn’t difficult, since they are neon orange and yellow and stick out of my head in a very Shrek-like fashion.) He stops the massage and then prods my ear a bit and then snatches the little earplug right out of my head! He then proceeded to play with it on the already overcrowded bed-side table, knocking everything onto the ground and thoroughly waking me up in a very stormy fashion. He was completely unmindful of my objections.
I think that’s about the rudest thing any cat has ever done to me, including eating out off my dinner plate and belching in my face.

Amazing Race, Ep. 4

“No Chicken, No Check In” is my new imaginary band name. Along with “Potentially Uncooperative Goat”

You know who Jen is? She’s that girl you hated in high school, that one who thinks that because she’s blond and a cheerleader that everything belongs to her. I’m surprised she didn’t get all up in the judges of African Idol's faces because she knows how to dance, and they clearly did not see her superiour skills. And, it is IN NO WAY up to the team ahead of you to “let you come in first” because they’ve already had their first place finish and now it’s your turn. That’s not “super competitive”, that’s whiney and cry-babyish. If I dated her, I’d cheat on her too.

Lorener and Jason were more than an hour behind the first teams to leave the pitstop, I’m not sure that that U-Turn was going to make too much of a difference anyway. I’m at least glad that their undoing was her performance last week, rather than the U-Turn this week. And honey, he’s not marrying you, do you get that, don't you? And even if he does? He's still going to be on his way when he finds something better, because he's not finished shopping yet.

Did anyone else think that the Silicone Twigs were mistaken, and thought that the team right behind them was Lorener and Jason? Because I was definitely getting that vibe. I’m sorry if that was the case, and they didn’t show the two of them when they found out they were wrong. Shorter Twig was right, though, in that it is a viable strategy for the race, and using it does not encompass any moral deficiencies. And she was right to use it in a situation where she thought they were in second-to-last place to hold up the team right behind them. But it did seem to take a toll on the team dynamics, so we will see how that turns out next week.

I was SO hoping the Goths would do “Booty”, and they did! Clearly Kynt has had some experience with cheerleading or colour guard or something, because nobody handles a stick like that without some prior training. I love Vyxyn’s reaction to the culture shock (are you listening, Twigs???) and the poverty around her. I also loved the way she rocked that chicken-in-a-bag back and forth, like it was a baby. These two are my favorites this season, I think.

Did you see the way Grandpa just walked right up to that chicken and snagged it with one hand? And then plopped it in the bag while he was walking back? Impressive…no muss, no fuss. And then he had a passing knowledge of gold mining! Gramps went up a few notches in my estimation, let me tell you. (He reminds me a bit of Creed, from “The Office”, who frequently busts out with some improbable bit of experience from his past: “It’s much more lucrative to be the leader of a cult” and “I was in an Iron Lung”.)

Anyone else feel sorry for the goats and the chickens? I’m just glad the Roadblock didn’t involve wringing the chickens necks, and then plucking and eating them. I think the producers thought the chickens would provide more entertainment than they did....this season's teams are just too normal and calm. Can you imagine the spazztastic hi-jinks that would have ensued if Charla and Mirna had been obliged to snag a chicken?

Best Line of the Night: "Let's name our chicken "Phil"."

The Hard-Ass Cookie Exchange.

Just back from the cookie exchange my sister-in-law hosts every year. (For those of you who are not familiar with the concept, a cookie exchange is where a bunch of people bring 8 or 10 dozen cookies of one type, and then divvy them up so that everyone gets one dozen from everyone else. The idea is that you end up with a whole shebang of different cookies, and you didn't have to start baking in August. ) This year I made some chocolate cookies with white chocolate and toasted almonds on top, which turned out very well. The problem is, you have to find a recipe that makes a couple of dozen, so you aren't making 12 batches, and one that doesn't cost too much. One year I started making a white chocolate and cranberry bark, but after a bit of examination, I realized I was going to have to take out a second morgage to make enough. (White chocolate can get really expensive when you are buying it by the kilo.)
This is the most hard-ass cookie exchange I've ever been involved in. First of all, you have to be a good baker to get in on this one; no Voortmans or Pillsbury for this crowd. Secondly, no margarine; you have to use butter or no cookies for you. And thirdly, they have to be fancy; decorations are required.
It's a bit of work, (and not a little pressure.) but we get some kick-ass cookies. Ideally, you are supposed to freeze them and then have them for Christmas, but the McGregor household has no restraint and we manage to go through all 8 dozen before December 1st.
So far, our favorites are Nana's Shortbread, which she made last year and was ordered to make again this year. (They have icing and sprinkles.)
My sister-in-law's sister-in-law has moved prohibitively far away and couldn't make it this year, which was too bad because, damn, that woman can bake.
Then we had a gift exchange and drank some wine and ate some appetizers. And I came home with 8 dozen cookies.
Not a bad day.

My Favorite Books of 2007

It seems a little early to be doing a list of the best of anything for the year, but I won't be reading too much for the next couple of weeks. (I've learned not to pick up any book I really, really want to read in December, because then nothing gets done or I can't read as much as I would like, and neither scenario is good. The "Outlander" Christmas of 97? A disaster.)

In no particular order:

"The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid", and "The Lost Continent; Travels in Small Town America" by Bill Bryson.
I swear I could read Bill Bryson's grocery list and laugh myself sick. I love this guy. The first book is an autobiography of growing up in Des Moines Iowa, and the second is an older book about finding small towns all across the US. Both were wonderful.

"The Memory Keepers Daughter" by Kim Edwards A book about a family and decisions and consequences. This had me thinking about it long after I read it.

"The Golden Spruce" John Vailliant If I had to pick an absolute favorite book this year, I think this might be it. A non-fiction book about a rare spruce growing in the Queen Charlotte Islands, and the guy who disappeared right before his trial for cutting it down. This absolutely captivated me. If you had told me that I'd be up late reading about logging practices in B.C, the Haida Indians and the fluid dynamics of waves in the Pacific, I'd have never believed it.

"Love is a Mix Tape" by Rob Sheffield A sweet, sad, funny and very touching book about love and loss. This guy tells the story of his love for music, how it brought him and his wife together, and how it helped him cope when she died suddenly at a young age. I was so tickled when I could say "I know that song!", and made me run out and find the other music he talked about.

"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by JK Rowling How many summers have been defined by my reading a Harry Potter book? A satisfying end to a wonderful series.

"The Glass Castle" by Jeannette Walls I swore I wasn't reading any more books about mistreated children, and I started this one with a great deal of trepidation. But I found myself caught up in it much more than I thought I would, and the children weren't so much mistreated as brought up by two loving, if terribly, dysfunctional people. It at least gave me hope that if these kids could turn out more or less okay, then my children should be just fine.

"The Doomsday Book" by Connie Willis A book about time travel to medieval England. A page-turner that kept me up very late one night.

"How To Talk To A Widower"by Jonathan Tropper Another story about loss and coping and how even the messiest of families can be a soft place to land. And I laughed out loud a couple of times, too.

"Missing In Action" by John D. Harvie A terrific book memoir about one man's experiences during World War II. I had to keep telling myself "it's going to be okay; he made it out to write the book!" And the bonus is, I got to talk to the author himself!

"Cabin Pressure"by Josh Wolk I never went to summer camp, but this book makes me wish I had. This guy went back to be a counsellor at the camp that made such an impact on his life, and then wrote about his summer. Youth has a totally different feel when you aren't one any more. Funny and sweet.

"The Kitchen Boy"by Robert Alexander Terrific historical fiction about the only witness to the execution of the last Tsar of Russia and his family. Great twist at the end.

"Look Me In the Eye- My Life With Asperger’s" by John Robison Another memoir, but this one was written by a man who just thought he was a misfit his whole life. Turns out he has Asperger's Syndrome, a type of autism. It made me look at all the nutbars I have to deal with a little bit differently. This was a good follow up to "The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Nighttime", by Mark Haddon, who's protagonist is autistic. Both books gave me a real insight into how some people's brains are wired.