Santa had flown all night, despite having the flu. Somewhere in Tulsa he instructed Don Fabio, his chief elf, to deliver the toys—strictly taboo—while Santa shivered and moaned on the sleigh’s floorboards.
There was a ruckus below. Glass shattered. Words were exchanged. Don Fabio never returned.
Santa pulled himself into the seat and snapped the reigns. The sleigh groaned and popped as the reindeer leapt over an alley and landed atop another set of track houses. Santa slouched down, took a swig of cocoa, and gently punched the knee of Lord Willy, his newly-promoted chief elf. “You’re up.”
[Note: Boise Weekly holds a “Fiction 101” contest each year. The rules are simple: write a short story in exactly 101 words. While I have never entered the contest, I write these Fiction 101’s to kill time at work.]
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
So long, 2008!
I started writing a "Farewell to 2008" blog entry, but it turned into a long-winded blubber-fest about what a hard yet exciting year this has been. My sister, Tracy, wrapped up her year in a tidy top-ten list, which is what I've decided to do instead.
Top-Ten Happenings of 2008:
1. After five months of agonizing silence, finally being accepted to four of the five grad schools to which I applied. (Fie upon Purdue!)
2. Letting go of the safe and comfortable choice (University of Utah) and choosing the exciting and unfamiliar (University of New Hampshire).
3. Celebrating my ten-year anniversary with my beautiful, funny, and sometimes clumsy bride. Here’s to ten more!
4. Turning 31. 30 was nice, but I prefer the ambiguity of being 30-something.
5. Finally finishing my master’s degree at Boise State. That was supposed to be on my 2007 top-ten list, but my thesis committee disagreed.
6. Selling my house at the bottom of the housing slump (nothing sucks worse than handing over a check when you close on your house) and then driving a moving truck and mini-van across the United States at $4 a gallon. Thank you Tom for helping to alleviate the financial burden, thank you Larry for being good company in the Penske, and thank you Marie for keeping the kids entertained and taken care of in the van.
7. Buying my plasma TV. Folks who say material things can’t bring you happiness have never watched Conan O’Brien in 42-inches of high-definition glory.
8. Having my mom and my sister, Tracy, visit us in New Hampshire. We toured the UNH campus, walked through ancient Maine graveyards, ate crab cakes and clam chowder at Fosters, and relaxed on the chilly and abandoned (but still exquisitely beautiful) Short-Sands Beach in York.
9. Finishing my first-semester of the Ph.D. program. I’m not ready to talk about it yet, but it’s over.
10. Surviving the New England Ice Storm of 2008, which has reignited my love affair with electricity.
Top-Ten Happenings of 2008:
1. After five months of agonizing silence, finally being accepted to four of the five grad schools to which I applied. (Fie upon Purdue!)
2. Letting go of the safe and comfortable choice (University of Utah) and choosing the exciting and unfamiliar (University of New Hampshire).
3. Celebrating my ten-year anniversary with my beautiful, funny, and sometimes clumsy bride. Here’s to ten more!
4. Turning 31. 30 was nice, but I prefer the ambiguity of being 30-something.
5. Finally finishing my master’s degree at Boise State. That was supposed to be on my 2007 top-ten list, but my thesis committee disagreed.
6. Selling my house at the bottom of the housing slump (nothing sucks worse than handing over a check when you close on your house) and then driving a moving truck and mini-van across the United States at $4 a gallon. Thank you Tom for helping to alleviate the financial burden, thank you Larry for being good company in the Penske, and thank you Marie for keeping the kids entertained and taken care of in the van.
7. Buying my plasma TV. Folks who say material things can’t bring you happiness have never watched Conan O’Brien in 42-inches of high-definition glory.
8. Having my mom and my sister, Tracy, visit us in New Hampshire. We toured the UNH campus, walked through ancient Maine graveyards, ate crab cakes and clam chowder at Fosters, and relaxed on the chilly and abandoned (but still exquisitely beautiful) Short-Sands Beach in York.
9. Finishing my first-semester of the Ph.D. program. I’m not ready to talk about it yet, but it’s over.
10. Surviving the New England Ice Storm of 2008, which has reignited my love affair with electricity.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
My Jelly Bean
Elliot threw a fit last night until I turned on Nick Toons.
Then she transformed into...this.
Then she transformed into...this.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Things I Should Have Learned as a Boy Scout
I read a news story about the elk in Idaho that like to eat tree branches and twigs because it's easier than digging through the snow to get to the grass. Entire herds go to sleep bloated and happy, and then they die.
I spent most of today sitting on my couch, waiting for the power to come back on, eating candy canes and breath mints, despite having a kitchen full of food.
My wife dusted off an old barbecue from under the porch and asked me to help her carry it to the deck so we could get some water boiling. “What’s the use?” I said, and crunched my Bubbalicious candy cane. I had given up the moment the power went out. It wasn’t worth leaving my 40-degree living room to cook mac-and-cheese and hot chocolate on my 10-degree porch. I don't like labor-intensive food. It's the same reason I won't eat lobster. I threw the candy-cane wrapper on the floor and started eating some Wheat Thins and Skittles I had found between the couch cushions.
Laura told me that our neighbor, Jeff, had made everyone a dutch-oven breakfast while I was sleeping off my graveyard shift. It sounded terribly Eagle-Scoutish, and I couldn’t imagine the effort involved in lighting briquettes, cracking eggs, mixing in “ingredients,” and putting it all into the Dutch oven. I get cranky when my microwave breakfast sandwich tells me to rotate the patty after two minutes. Do I look like a chef? Three minutes, full power, no rotating. I don’t mind if the inside is still a little frozen.
I told Laura, in a moment of malnourished delusion, that we should buy a Dutch oven for Christmas so we could actually cook the food in our food storage. I even had visions of myself moving the little coals around on the lid and babying the pot for twelve hours while our Pioneer-Trek Stew simmered to perfection.
Not going to happen. Unless, of course, Laura agrees to move Dutch-oven cooking out of the “Barbecuing, Auto Mechanics, and Other Things Men Should Do” category and into the “Things I’m Stuck Doing While Mike Sits on the Couch Wishing Jeopardy Was On” category.
I spent most of today sitting on my couch, waiting for the power to come back on, eating candy canes and breath mints, despite having a kitchen full of food.
My wife dusted off an old barbecue from under the porch and asked me to help her carry it to the deck so we could get some water boiling. “What’s the use?” I said, and crunched my Bubbalicious candy cane. I had given up the moment the power went out. It wasn’t worth leaving my 40-degree living room to cook mac-and-cheese and hot chocolate on my 10-degree porch. I don't like labor-intensive food. It's the same reason I won't eat lobster. I threw the candy-cane wrapper on the floor and started eating some Wheat Thins and Skittles I had found between the couch cushions.
Laura told me that our neighbor, Jeff, had made everyone a dutch-oven breakfast while I was sleeping off my graveyard shift. It sounded terribly Eagle-Scoutish, and I couldn’t imagine the effort involved in lighting briquettes, cracking eggs, mixing in “ingredients,” and putting it all into the Dutch oven. I get cranky when my microwave breakfast sandwich tells me to rotate the patty after two minutes. Do I look like a chef? Three minutes, full power, no rotating. I don’t mind if the inside is still a little frozen.
I told Laura, in a moment of malnourished delusion, that we should buy a Dutch oven for Christmas so we could actually cook the food in our food storage. I even had visions of myself moving the little coals around on the lid and babying the pot for twelve hours while our Pioneer-Trek Stew simmered to perfection.
Not going to happen. Unless, of course, Laura agrees to move Dutch-oven cooking out of the “Barbecuing, Auto Mechanics, and Other Things Men Should Do” category and into the “Things I’m Stuck Doing While Mike Sits on the Couch Wishing Jeopardy Was On” category.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Weekly Top Five Lists
This is my new thing. Since I don't have a lot of time to write, I thought I could at least make a couple weekly lists of my top-five most-awesome and least-awesome moments.
Top Five Least-Awesome Moments of the Week
1. C.C., my coworker, yelling, “Hey Mike, you’ve got mail!” every time I log onto AOL.
2. Elliot sticking her finger up my nose and then head-butting me.
3. Mile’s and Elliot’s new-found obsession with smashing light bulbs.
4. Removing the AC units from my windows. (I’m not a manual labor type of guy).
5. Hearing that Joseph B. Wirthlin died.
Top Five Most-Awesome Moments of the Week
1. Sleeping 12 hours on Wednesday night.
2. James bringing in a box of chocolates to work that no one but me felt like eating.
3. Matty’s post-op Frankenstein mug shot.
4. Cancelling class on Wednesday night simply because I wanted to.
5. Miles daring me to whip him in the butt with a wet dishtowel.
Top Five Least-Awesome Moments of the Week
1. C.C., my coworker, yelling, “Hey Mike, you’ve got mail!” every time I log onto AOL.
2. Elliot sticking her finger up my nose and then head-butting me.
3. Mile’s and Elliot’s new-found obsession with smashing light bulbs.
4. Removing the AC units from my windows. (I’m not a manual labor type of guy).
5. Hearing that Joseph B. Wirthlin died.
Top Five Most-Awesome Moments of the Week
1. Sleeping 12 hours on Wednesday night.
2. James bringing in a box of chocolates to work that no one but me felt like eating.
3. Matty’s post-op Frankenstein mug shot.
4. Cancelling class on Wednesday night simply because I wanted to.
5. Miles daring me to whip him in the butt with a wet dishtowel.
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