Have you ever seen something that was simply too perfect?
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Okay, so it’s not a pear tree. But a partridge on your Christmas wreath is pretty damn close.
We had one of those beauties on our front lawn a few years ago.
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I had no idea what it was and had to look him up in my bird watchers bible.
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Native to the Middle East and southern Asia, the Chukar was brought as a game bird to North America, where it has thrived in some arid regions of the west. From late summer to early spring, Chukars travel in coveys, but they may be hard to see as they range through the brush of steep desert canyons. They become more conspicuous in spring, when the harsh cackling chuk chuk chukar of the territorial males echoes from the rocky cliffs.
They’re noisy little devils and if you’ve ever heard one… you’re not apt to forget it.
It’s another Christmas question, so try to get your jolly on.
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When I was a teenager my mother had a close friend she insisted I call aunt though we weren’t related . She was a career woman when women didn’t have careers and rose to a senior position with Time/Life. A wealthy widow with two grown sons, she was extremely intelligent and quite eccentric.
To be honest, she was loaded. Both financially and physically… the old gal liked her scotch.
Having New England roots she was also tight as a tick when it came to spending money. The electric bill could sour her mood for days and she wore clothes that were so threadbare the moths didn’t even bother nibbling. She constantly added milk to chowder to stretch it’s longevity and only went out to dinner if someone else was paying. She cut her own hair, never bought a new car and had drawers full of used tin foil. When she retired she had money enough to travel the world but chose to sit home and clip coupons, waiting for hamburger to go on sale.
But when it came to Christmas? That’s when she really outdid herself. Presents were wrapped in newspaper with leftover butcher’s twine for ribbon. She thought it was fun to give dozens of gifts and watch you squeal with delight when you opened them. Problem was … there was never anything worth squealing about. Quantity not quality made her happy.
Over the years I received toilet paper, toothpaste, tiny bars of soap and shampoo as well as plastic ice buckets. All of which she lifted from various hotel rooms. She traveled a lot for work and the woman never passed up a freebie. I had to say thank you for swizzle sticks, matchbooks and little paper umbrellas. Have you ever pretended to be over joyed with ketchup packets and those little square jelly containers? Trust me, it’s not easy.
So in answer to the question … the weirdest Xmas gift I’ve ever received?
A matching set of barf bags from TWA.
Festively wrapped in the New York Times and the envy of all my friends.
It wasn’t haute cuisine but the sandwiches were halfway decent and every meal ended with an ice cream sundae so no one really cared.
The other day when my friend and I were out shopping, it was literally the only place around so we stopped in for lunch.
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I vaguely remembered their Big Beef being a sizable burger and decided to take a trip down memory lane.
That was a big mistake.
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What the holy hell!
At first I thought they’d fried an egg on my burger but that was cheese.
A cheese ‘skirt’ to be precise. And though you’d think it would be hard to go wrong with half a plate full of cheese… they managed, because it was awful. Greasy on top, hard as rock on the bottom.
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And the Big Beef?
The only thing Big was my disappointment because the Beef was practically non existent… not to mention well done and crunchy.
The waiter at this restaurant may have been friendly, but the food certainly wasn’t.
I drove home under some ominous skies the other afternoon.
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And woke up to our first dusting of snow.
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It was gone by mid day just in time for our contractor to drop by between jobs and seal up the new windows with some not so attractive foam.
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He’s finishing off a barn next door that’s taking longer than planned but as soon as he’s done he’ll be back over here to finish our nightmare project.
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As usual, Lord Dudley Mountcatten couldn’t care less.
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💕
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
