For the couple of decades I've been blogging, I've marked Christmas Eve with a rousing round of revelry from the man who, depending on the day and my mood, I consider one of the three best cartoonists who ever lived, Walt Kelly. From his great comic strip "Pogo," please accept this gift with my wishes for a good holiday and excellent 2024.
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| "Little Nemo in Slumberland" by Winsor McCay, one of the three or four best cartoonists who ever lifted a pen. |
It was the classic anxiety dream about being in college and late to class but realizing you don't remember where the class is and also you've forgotten to attend the entire semester. Last night's twist was that, within the dream, I thought to myself, "Hey, this is just like that classic anxiety dream about being in college and late to class!" And then I tried to test the situation by examining the world around me and asking myself questions to determine whether I was dreaming or awake--and I concluded I was awake!
It wasn't quite a lucid dream, in which you realize you're dreaming and guide the story. I've had those and they're fun. In fact, it was kind of the opposite, in which I wondered if I were dreaming and decided, "Nah! This is real life! Better get to class!"
Now I'm not sure if I'm really awake and writing this. Further research is needed.
The girls were about 3½ in this photo, which is remarkable because we very rarely dressed them in matching outfits except to make older relatives happy. In fact, this might have been around Christmastime, and I'll bet their grandmother had something to do with it.
The girls themselves were done with the entire "twins thing" at a very young age. If you want to know what it was like being a Beatle in 1964, try pushing a double stroller with two cute, blonde, identical tots through a mall or restaurant. No interest in show business, thanks, although we got offers.
I don't believe in telepathy but sometimes I think they have it.
I also think they have planned the perfect crime but haven't committed it yet--unless they have, and it was so perfect I never found out about it.
In our experience, twins were MUCH more than twice as hard when they were babies but got much easier than twice as hard when they were older. Your mileage may vary.
Happy Twin Day, Chiquitas! No regrets on my end, although you may be rethinking your choice of father right about now. No Take Backs!
A Peek into the Intimate Intellectual Life of a Long-Married Couple, Part 21:
Karen and I notice a covered box, like a small bench, on a neighbor's front porch.
Karen: I wonder if that's for putting packages in, like Fed Ex or UPS, so people don't see them stacked up by your front door.
Brian: Or it could be full of murder hornets that would swarm out and sting you to death.
Karen: Or Christmas presents.
Brian: Or a loaded crossbow! You open the lid and PFFTTT, right between the eyes!
Karen: Really?
Brian: If you open that lid, it's your own fault.
Karen: This is the difference between girls and boys. I was thinking nice things, like ribbons and bows.
Brian: I was thinking of bows, too! Crossbows!
Karen (much later): That bow thing should be a peek into the intimate intellectual life of a long-married couple!
Brian: Really? You don't think it makes me sound kind of stupid?
Karen:
This has been a peek into the intimate intellectual life of a long-married couple.
There is no war on Christmas. One cranky person who once said something to somebody you know is not a "war."
Christmas is healthier than ever. More music, decorations, TV shows (Hallmark channel is nothing but), movies, sales, etc. etc. It comes earlier every year. Big stores like Costco, Target and Home Depot put out Christmas stuff before Halloween's even over. Christmas dominates the culture; no other holiday or event is even close. It's bigger than Thanksgiving, Halloween, the Super Bowl, the World Series, and the Olympics combined. Say "Merry Christmas" to whomever you want. Nobody cares.
Here's the thing: some people WANT you to think there's a war on Christmas. They want to make you mad about problems they completely made up. Think about who those people are and why they want you mad. Spoiler alert: it's not because they care about Christmas.
Karen and I are walking our dog, Riley, when we wave to a neighbor named Jim half a block ahead.
Brian (not loud enough for Jim to hear): Say, Jim! That's a BAD outfit!
Karen (puzzled): Is that a thing?
Brian: It's from the first Christopher Reeve "Superman" movie.
Karen: Ohhhkaaaay.
Brian: When Clark Kent runs into a revolving door to change into Superman, and he comes out and there's a pimp who says, "Say, Jim! That's a BAD outfit!"
Karen: Uh huh.
Brian: Then Superman says, "Excuse me," and flies away.
Karen:
Brian: I think of it whenever I meet someone named Jim.
Karen:
Brian: This is why A.I. will never replace human beings.
Karen: It might be an improvement.
This has been a peek into the intimate intellectual life of a long-married couple.