Friday, November 24, 2006
No, we won't be hitting the stores, tomorrow...
...rather, today, I guess. If we were so inclined, though, Prescott would be the place to do it. The latest tally of Prescott's population advertises "90,000". I think this is fudged, including lots of people living outside the city in unincorporated areas and maybe even stealing a few residents who the post office considers part of one of the other two "cities" (as they optimistically call themselves) around here. At any rate, holiday shopping is never a swarm, as it is in other areas, not even on Black Friday. Too, many people still don't think there are enough material goods here among which to chose and migrate to Phoenix or Tucson for the heavy shopping days. It'll be a little more hectic than a "normal shopping day" but nothing like the holiday hullabaloo the world-class cities in this state will endure.
Chances are, it'll be a low key day for us. I'm going to try, again, to entice Mom into some moving, although I'm not going to berate myself if I fail. Maybe I'll do a little final before winter yard work. Most everything is done, but I imagine the eaves could use a good deleafing, since most of our trees are now bare, and, well, maybe I'll convince myself that tomorrow is the day to finally top off the pyracantha. I just hate wrestling with those damned spikes, especially when they're above me, rather than level with me. I can't tell you how many times I've had a falling cutting gouge my scalp or arms, even when I'm on a ladder that brings me eye to eye with the roof. Although she didn't used to, my mother gets nervous, now, when I do ladder work, inside or outside. I understand her concern. What would happen to us if I fell off a ladder? Although I am unreasonably certain that this will not happen as long as she's alive, that I will not, in fact, suffer any physically devastating circumstances throughout the rest of her life, she, of course, remains unconvinced. Thus, I try to keep work that appears to her to be dangerous infrequent and to a minimum. I haven't yet, though, found anyone to replace our Miracle Yard Man who was "called by the Lord" to preach in Winslow, and this is not a good season to find such people up here in the mountains. I enjoy doing this work, too (well, except for topping off the pyracantha, but this must be done before we get a snow that bends and freezes the branches to the driveway).
We've almost re-viewed our entire, measely collection of Christmas movies. We have one left, which we'll probably watch tomorrow. Mom is really enjoying herself with these movies. We animatedly discussed, yesterday, whether or not It's a Wonderful Life is a "real" Christmas movie.
I seem to have calmed down quite a bit since I got that Wouldn't it be funny if... post out of my system. I've got a couple more similar posts to disgorge. Maybe this weekend. I think I'm beginning to feel enough remove do them justice.
The pot roast, by the way, was the best I've had in my life. My mother was so pleased with it she suggested, several times, that I should "be sure to write down that recipe." The simmering liquid made a delectable sauce, whisked with a little roux, and the vegetables were perfect.
Ahhh, I'm yawning. Good sign.
Later.
Chances are, it'll be a low key day for us. I'm going to try, again, to entice Mom into some moving, although I'm not going to berate myself if I fail. Maybe I'll do a little final before winter yard work. Most everything is done, but I imagine the eaves could use a good deleafing, since most of our trees are now bare, and, well, maybe I'll convince myself that tomorrow is the day to finally top off the pyracantha. I just hate wrestling with those damned spikes, especially when they're above me, rather than level with me. I can't tell you how many times I've had a falling cutting gouge my scalp or arms, even when I'm on a ladder that brings me eye to eye with the roof. Although she didn't used to, my mother gets nervous, now, when I do ladder work, inside or outside. I understand her concern. What would happen to us if I fell off a ladder? Although I am unreasonably certain that this will not happen as long as she's alive, that I will not, in fact, suffer any physically devastating circumstances throughout the rest of her life, she, of course, remains unconvinced. Thus, I try to keep work that appears to her to be dangerous infrequent and to a minimum. I haven't yet, though, found anyone to replace our Miracle Yard Man who was "called by the Lord" to preach in Winslow, and this is not a good season to find such people up here in the mountains. I enjoy doing this work, too (well, except for topping off the pyracantha, but this must be done before we get a snow that bends and freezes the branches to the driveway).
We've almost re-viewed our entire, measely collection of Christmas movies. We have one left, which we'll probably watch tomorrow. Mom is really enjoying herself with these movies. We animatedly discussed, yesterday, whether or not It's a Wonderful Life is a "real" Christmas movie.
I seem to have calmed down quite a bit since I got that Wouldn't it be funny if... post out of my system. I've got a couple more similar posts to disgorge. Maybe this weekend. I think I'm beginning to feel enough remove do them justice.
The pot roast, by the way, was the best I've had in my life. My mother was so pleased with it she suggested, several times, that I should "be sure to write down that recipe." The simmering liquid made a delectable sauce, whisked with a little roux, and the vegetables were perfect.
Ahhh, I'm yawning. Good sign.
Later.
