Archives for the month of: November, 2004

OrnamentsNow that the long awaited 4-day week­end has come and gone, at the blink of an eye I might add, it’s time to patiently await the arrival of Christ­mas and more impor­tantly pre­pare for the onslaught of hol­i­day shop­pers, cranky dri­vers and bell ringers. Every year around this time I ready myself for the crazi­ness of the hol­i­days and yet it never really mat­ters because I become caught up in the hol­i­day fever as well.

This year how­ever, my wife and I have already decided that the major­ity of our shop­ping will take place online. We fig­ure by tak­ing this strat­egy we’ll avoid most of the hol­i­day craze when peo­ple are caught in a zombie-like trance to pil­lage and plun­der local Tar­gets, K-Marts and KB Toys for the lat­est and great­est toy gad­get for their chil­dren. Luck­ily, for the time being, my daugh­ter is still young enough where she isn’t entranced by toys but con­sid­er­ing her first birth­day is next month it won’t be long until she’s tug­ging at our pant legs and star­ing up at us with those sting­ing puppy dog eyes.

I’m reminded of John Grisham’s Skip­ping Christ­mas (renamed Christ­mas with the Kranks for the Hol­ly­wood adap­ta­tion), a satir­i­cal view of the hol­i­days. The main char­ac­ters, Luther and Nora Krank, decide that they’ll skip Christ­mas after send­ing their daugh­ter off to Peru for Peace Corps. Luther tal­lies up the pre­vi­ous years expenses for Christ­mas and esti­mates they can save in the thou­sands if they take a 10-day cruise instead of cel­e­brat­ing the afore­men­tioned hol­i­day. Of course chaos erupts and the rest of the book is per­fect mate­r­ial for the typ­i­cal Hol­ly­wood Christ­mas com­edy, includ­ing a mad­cap sequence with a plas­tic snow­man and the embarass­ment of set­tling with a scrappy look­ing tree.

It just goes to show that no mat­ter how hard you try to ignore, strate­gize or avoid Christ­mas it’s never going to dis­ap­pear. You sim­ply can­not wipe Christ­mas from your cal­en­dar. It’s the prover­bial mon­key on your back, but in this case he’s wear­ing a santa cap with a 30 pound sack of presents slung over his shoulder.

subwaysandwich.jpgAfter work the other day I was feel­ing a bit hun­gry. Lately I’ve been skip­ping out on lunch and break­fast because either I’m too engrossed in what­ever project I’m work­ing on or I for­get to bring the packed lunch (like this morn­ing for instance).

As I’m dri­ving down the road a thought comes to mind, “Wow, I haven’t been to Palermo’s Sub Shop in a few months. Won­der how my Sub mak­ing bud­dies are doing.” I pull up in the park­ing lot and enter the sub place and order the usual; a meat­ball sub with sliced mozzerella on top. After order­ing I casu­ally walk over and get a drink from the soda foun­tain and wait patiently while the “Sub Artist” does his thing.

Even­tu­ally the guy comes over with two sand­wiches? I was in a panic, it was as if all the air in my lungs had been sucked out of me. Why, why, two sand­wiches? That’s when I real­ized, he split the two halves. This is where this sub story gets weird.

The guy takes my credit card, slips it through what I call the “credit crack” and it takes about 15 years to autho­rize the trans­ac­tion. In the mean time we chat about life and even­tu­ally he real­izes the receipt machine has no power. I let out a laugh that exudes a mix­ture of “how funny” and “Dude, what is your prob­lem?” and finally it works.

He hands me the receipt to sign and in an awk­ward moment says, “Well, it’s been great hang­ing out with you man.” Like I said, awk­ward to say the least and yet at one point I think I wanted to give him a hug, thank him for mak­ing my sub and tip him for the ser­vice. In the end I decided not to, think­ing it might have been going against the Sub Mak­ers union.

Some­day, when all of the sub shop artists are replaced by sub-making robots I’ll miss these kinds of moments.

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Mike thinks he’d drink Iron­beer). Despite my pon­der­ings, there he was, Fidel Cas­tro, at the Big Mini Mart in Rochester, New York.

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