Christmas roundup.

The thermometer says it is no degrees outside -- yes, friends, we are at Absolute Zero -- so it's winter! And that means Christmas is coming. It's practically here! 

Today I offer a brief roundup of some memes and candy that have popped up on my radar lately. Sweetness abounds. 

I thought this was hilarious, but I had to explain it to a couple of people. It took me a moment also, to be fair. 

I love this one because I never liked the movie and I hated the book. 

Chico had the Man's number, I think.

Next up, further proof that one day all the memes will join together into one Mega Meme. 

Guess what I found in my local supermarket on Saturday, December 20? That's right -- Valentine's Day Candy!

TV listing from Sunday -- tell me you've never see the special without telling me. 

I think AI is writing them now. 

And that brings us to a visit with longtime friend of this blog: PEEPS

Yes, we've reviewed Peeps and Peep Accessories many times on this page -- even other Christmas-themed Peeps, a decade ago. But we've never seen Gingerbread (or, as the yellow box notes, "Gingerbread FLAVORED") Peeps before. I'm a fan of the plucky little Just Born company of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, but I am cautious. Can these possibly be any good?

Verdict: Yes, if you like marshmallow and you like the flavor of gingerbread and you think they'd work well together. Unbelievably sweet, of course, as the outer flavoring is also sugared, much as so many pumpkin spice treats in the fall include sugar. I think you need it; lightly melted sugar helps other flavorings stick, first of all, and second, sugar has a lovely and underrated texture all its own. But man, this is sweet. 

You might drop one of these dudes in a cup of (mostly unsweetened) cocoa and let him melt; I think that would taste good, although you hate to see a friendly face get the Wicked Witch treatment. 

So there's some hot and cold takes for this last Monday before Christmas. Hope to post tomorrow, but definitely on Christmas Day. 

Ash Valentine.

I am informed that the last time Ash Wednesday fell on St. Valentine's Day was 1945. The following July we tested the first A-bomb and the world entered the age of nuclear war. 

COINCIDENCE? 

Talk about ashes to ashes

Well, the sad fact is, we're all going to die, but we hope not all at once. Life has been compared to a stream, a river, a race, but it's just a road. We merge into the lane with a peer group, but almost immediately some are taken off the road. As we continue, our cohort does all right, but the farther down the road we get the faster we lose members of our group. Then, one day, we each are diverted off the road ourselves. We hope to go somewhere better, somewhere where all roads end in joy. But most of us are not in a rush to get there. 

It does feel weird to have the day o' love coincide with the annual reminder by the church that we are going to die. But is it so weird? For goodness' sake, there are enough stories of people dying for love. Really, though, we ought to have more stories of people living for love -- devoting themselves through all the difficulties of life to serve those we love, and of course the God who made us from dust. Well, the universal drama of death always commands the audience's attention.

Enough of this death stuff. May your heart be gladdened on this Valentine's Day, and may you not get lousy candy. If you're gonna break a Lenten pledge right out of the starting gate, at least get some quality candy out of it. Good chocolate is da bomb! 

Lurrrrve hotel.

I believe I mentioned a February or two ago that I stopped hanging a big red heart on the front door for Valentine's Day. It just made the place look like a love hotel (say it with your best Barry White voice: Lurrrrve hotel). 

But what does that have to do with this guy?

The great motels that once dotted the fruited plains are largely gone, or turned into senior or welfare housing, or still running as No-Tell Motels, the kind you rent by the hour and hope the germs on the sheets don't kill you. I have a feeling, though, that they may be somewhat nicer in the Eastern World, because of the Love Hotel emoji in all its variations.

And they are exactly the same as our little hourly rentals on the cheatin' side of town -- what they call in the business "short stay" rooms. 

So I'd rather not have the house look like one of these emojis. 

But what does that have to do with Mario?

You may know that Nintendo was founded as a playing card company in 1889, manufacturing the beautiful cards called Hanafuda. The company was very successful. But by the 1950s, company president Hiroshi Yamauchi realized that playing cards were a fading business. This would lead to the company's entry into other games, including video games. It also led to some unsuccessful diversification ventures, like instant rice and a TV network. Also: A Love Hotel! 

As Kotaku.com says, "The location and name of Nintendo's hotel seems lost to the pages of time. Like many of Yamauchi's ventures, the hotel was a failure. According to The History of Nintendo, local newspapers noted that it might have an upside for the married Nintendo president: 'The only benefit Yamauchi might have derived from this is that this time he and his partners don't need to pay for the rooms, and that might in the end constitute a substantial saving.' Yamauchi's reign at Nintendo was marked by his repeated desire to, like any good businessman, find new markets. If the love hotel or the copy machine or even the soup with noodles ventures had worked out, Nintendo would have become a very different company."

But getting back to the Love Hotel emoji -- why do we even have a Love Hotel emoji? As far as I know, it's the only emoji that was created with the intent to be salacious. (The eggplant just started life as an eggplant, I will assume.) Married couples almost never go to rent-a-rooms; why pay rent or the mortgage and not use your own place? The Love Hotel is a curiously provocative symbol in a library of symbols that are silly, stupid, or weird. 

Oh, well. Some guys go to all kinds of trouble to get a date. Who am I to judge what they do when they get one? 

"Hang inna there, baby! I gotta rooma reserveda!"

Collateral stinkage.

Yesterday morning I was walking the dog when we came upon the scene of an attack. It was dark, and we were walking the Big Loop, which as its name implies is a long street that leads us back to the street that takes us home. We were at about the halfway point when the evidence of a violent encounter became clear. 

When I say "violent encounter" I mean probably no one got physically hurt, but I'll bet something got a full-frontal skunk blast. 

I've been in cars and buses and on trains when we've passed the scene of a skunk run-over or a skunk attack, and the odor hanging in the air is a shock, but quickly gone -- although never as quickly as you might expect. It clings. Here it clung and how. There was no evidence of a skunk vs. car situation, so I suspect a critter decided to tangle with a skunk and lived to regrets its decision. The farther we walked into the cloud, the stronger it got; it would ease up a little due to that wonderful invention called olfactory fatigue, and then incredibly it would return, stronger and stronger, when you wouldn't think it possible. I expected to be able to see it, like mustard gas in a World War I movie. 

Eyes watering, we persevered. It seemed to go on for a good half mile. Hard to tell because of the curve of the sidewalk. There was no breeze blowing, though, so that cloud of punk just sat there. Whatever riled up the skunk got both barrels.

Don't look so flipping innocent.

I have nothing against skunks, really. They eat bugs, which I endorse -- not for me, but for other mammals and for reptiles. (Eat all the bugs!) And they have a unique self-defense mechanism. Everything is entitled to try to defend itself. Like porcupines, they only have one trick, but it's a winner.

The skunk can shoot its little anal weapon about ten to fifteen feet, and the speed at which it deploys is astonishing. Mental Floss says "Aside from the offensive smell that lingers for days (or even weeks), the spray is intensely irritating and can cause temporary blindness in anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the stream. Even if you're nowhere near the scene of the spray, you could still suffer the unpleasant consequences: People can detect the scent from up to a mile downwind." When Tralfaz got skunked years ago, it did take weeks to get the lingering funk off him. He'd gotten shot right in the mouth, and you could smell it on his breath the whole time, like he'd been drinking Skunk Vodka.

Weiler Woods for Wildlife tells us that the skunk has pretty damn good aim with the spray thanks to nipple-like protrusions on each anal gland. (That's like having a heat-seeking hand grenade -- which is to say, accuracy is not super important but still improves effectiveness.) They can shoot up to six times, like an old Colt revolver, except it takes them even longer to reload -- about 10 to 14 days. 

Fortunately, baby dog Izzy has not been so unwise as to challenge the local skunks so far, or any other wildlife. I hope our schlep through the cloud of doom convinced him that whatever made that odor is not to be trifled with. Meanwhile, if it wasn't a bear, fox, coyote, or bobcat that got the skunk treatment yesterday, then someone's house cat had a rude surprise for its owners in the morning. 

🦨🦨🦨

P.S.: This may seem like a strange topic for Valentine's Day, but remember the words of that great social philosopher Peter Wolf, "Love Stinks."

Santa's cleaning up!

This here Santa soap has been hanging around in the downstairs can for a couple of weeks. He certainly is cute. His label requires a choking hazard warning because of the cotton ball glued to his side. His soap is supposed to smell like candy canes, and it's close enough, I guess. It's not unpleasant.

But he's still overstayed his welcome. 

Santa here is a product of Scent Theory, a New York-based outfit that makes some aromatic stuff. It's right there in the name. But before you think they're all boutiquey, let me mention that I've only ever seen their products in Walmart. Santa here was an impulse buy at the checkout line -- as I love to Christmas up the joint, in the cart he went. Scent Theory makes a number of holiday-themed products, including a Gingerbread soap, but I didn't see that one at Walmart. 

Many of their scents seem to try to evoke a theme rather than an actual smell. For example, Cozy Comfort, which is intended to be a woody, musky scent, possibly to get you thinking of the first fireplace log of the year (or the second, if you forgot to open the flue on the first one). Santa here specifically says Candy Cane, and over time the Mrs. got a little tired of it. 

So off he went to the can upstairs. 

Since I work downstairs and engage in most cooking and dog-related activities downstairs, though, hand soap tends to last a lot longer upstairs. I may be looking at Santa until Valentine's Day.  

Maybe I can recolor some of his garment, remove the cotton ball, and make him look more like St. Valentine. It's not that much of a stretch. 

Still festive!

A merry Christmas to all, and don't forget to wash your hands! Ho ho hygiene is important! 

All my heart.

I know it's Super Bowl Sunday, boys, but don't let yourself take your eye off the ball. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and you have to be ready for that tomorrow morning. Yes, the new 17-game football season has thrown everything off. Don't lose your grip, lads! You can do this! 

The thing to do is run out and get something. It doesn't have to be big. The supermarket should have flowers and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Just pretend you have to go out to get some more chips for the watch party tonight. That way it doesn't look like you haven't given Valentine's Day -- and by extension, your significant other -- a single thought. 

While you're at it, do not forget to get a card. Doesn't much matter which, as long as it's not directed to your kid or your mom or something. Just grab something with a heart on it and go. 

Do that before you swing to the grocery area for Velveeta and Ro*Tel. 

Look in the seasonal aisle as well for chocolate. The chocolate on the strawberries doesn't count. You want something with chocolate. Be warned that if your supermarket is like the one closest to my house, it has already moved on from Valentine's Day to Easter, leaving nothing for tomorrow but a few sad candy hearts and some kiddie klassroom kard packets. You might be tempted to grab some Reese's eggs or the like, but DON'T FALL INTO THAT TRAP. Anything Eastery is a dead giveaway that you went shopping at the last minute. Better to get her favorite candy bar at the register than something that says Easter. If you don't know what her favorite candy bar is, get something Godiva. Nowadays it's easier to find Godiva than Heath Bars.

The seasonal aisle may have some little gift bags left. Get one to put your stuff in. Tissue paper, too. Yeah, it's a whole big production number. Suck it up. And remember, Kleenex is not a substitute for tissue paper, especially not the kind with the lotion in it.

Okay, you should be safe now. Sneak it in the house, get it all together, and hide it someplace that you won't forget for tomorrow morning. I know it's all a bother, but remember, anyone who doesn't believe that little things mean a lot has never had an ingrown toenail. 

Valentine's cake.

Blogger's Note: This was supposed to be Sunday's entry, but I was unduly tied up (which I will explain tomorrow). I might have just disposed of this little essay. But I can't waste a good dessert.

💟💟💟

So, how was your Valentine's Day?

Mrs. Key and I eschew going to restaurants on the day, leaving that to those who need to feed each other on a particular day to show their love. She needs nothing to prove to me her love; she's been doing that by putting up with my jokes for years. And she thinks it's silly to fall into the trap where a husband is obliged to buy flowers on the day. I know what you guys are thinking: The Perfect Woman! Yes, but that also means flowers are desirable on the other 364 days (365 on leap year).

So we didn't go out, but I did try to make a special dinner, or at least a special dessert, courtesy of Godiva Chocolatier. Although certain observations make me wonder how special it is.

First, the product:

Godiva has been putting out these baking mixes for a while, and I got this one thinking it would be a good dessert for when we had guests. Well, we've had guests and it didn't happen; either my wife wanted something else, or the guests brought the sweets. But Valentine's Day seemed perfect, and who doesn't like Brownie Cheesecake Swirl?

But how classy is it? Godiva, around since the first shop opened in Belgium in 1926, had a great mystique of high class when it finally came to upscale American stores in 1966 and then opened a Fifth Avenue boutique in 1972. The name was supposed to command respect from us Hershey-bar-sucking swine, and indeed it seemed to. It was associated with the more urbane stores like Macy's -- not like Woolworth's, where you could go get a Whitman's Sampler or some other peasant food.

And indeed, Godiva held on to that image for a while. The last Godiva shop I was in, to get a gift, was in the upscale Westchester shopping center known as The Westchester in White Plains, where one finds Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom as anchor stores.

However, I bought this baking mix in the local supermarket. I could have gotten it in Walmart, which sells it and virtually every other pre-wrapped Godiva product.

Godiva, in fact, was bought by Campbell's Soup in 1967, which makes it seem less a shining star than a sweet brand alternative to canned Cream of Mushroom. Campbell's sold it in 2008 to Istanbul-based Yıldız Holding.

Furthermore: Are brownies classy? I suppose I shouldn't denigrate brownies too much; they were invented by the chef at Chicago's high-class Palmer House Hotel as a portable luncheon treat. But like the cupcake, they have a silly name and are popular with small children, so they don't come across as a fancy-pants sweet.

Regardless, I went ahead and baked this li'l ol' cake while the wife was out. It has its own pan inside the box! But you do need to buy a brick of cream cheese and a couple of eggs.

Cute, huh?

I didn't do a good job with the "swirl" part, I admit, but as long as the chocolate made it in the cake, I figure it's a win. So how was it?

Well, it's good. The brownie was a pretty solid piece of dark chocolate, and nothing wrong with that; some people like a fudgy brownie and this is that. The cheesecake was a little less successful, but making a good French-style cheesecake is rather complicated and involves water baths and things. For a cake mix cheesecake it is just fine. All together, a successful dessert, easier than making the components from scratch, a little more involved than most box mix cakes, but not as good as buying a brownie cheesecake from a good bakery.

So next Valentine's Day, don't bother with Betty Crocker; go with Lady Godiva instead! Woo!

Valentine's Day... in March!

Okay, not really, but here's some candy for you.

Actually, I bought these after Valentine's in a post-Valentine's Day sale (25 cents for the box) after I got my driving privileges back following my concussion. I didn't buy them because I was so hungry for sugar. No, it was because this was the first time in 118 years that Necco was not doing the Conversation Hearts.

Necco, the storied candy manufacturer that was founded in 1901, gave up the ghost last July when it closed its doors and sold off its operations. The company, known originally the New England Confectionery Company, had been making heart-shaped candies with little sayings on them from 1901 to 2018. This was the only year in living memory that we've been heartless.

Or we would have been, but cheap candy magnate Brach's picked up the slack with these Tiny Conversation Hearts. A quick search of the U.S. Trademark Office database shows no trademark, live or dead, for "Conversation Hearts," and this late in the game it would be tough to show Brach's was stealing a unique idea of value. Anyway, lovebirds who wanted to share nearly flavorless romantic candy had someplace to go, so it was kind of a public service. Maybe Brach's has been making them for years in competition with Necco. I have no idea. I've been off the dating circuit for a while.

Brach's calls them Tiny Conversation Hearts, but are they really? Well, here they are next to a pencil.

Kinda small. Smaller than Necco's? I don't know.

We should be able to do a coronary candy competition next year, though. Spangler, the company that makes approximately a kabillion candy canes every Christmas (seriously, 2.7 million a day!), bought the rights to most of Necco's headliner candies, including Necco Wafers, Canada Mints, and Sweetheart Conversation Hearts. They've as much as promised a return of these old-time sweets in 2020. So there's something.

We can buy a box of each and have a heart-to-heart. If we remember to do it. Meh. The candies are kind of dull. Brach's taste kind of like miscellaneous fruit. It's hard at my age to get worked up about it.

I'm blasé about the whole thing. Maybe I need a hug. Can I buy a box with just the "Hug Me" hearts in it?

My cheapskate Valentine.

I noted last week that it was time for a trip to the ol' warehouse store, and indeed I went. There's just no replacement for a skid of TP when a storm is coming. 

While I was getting my act together on the checkout line, I spotted these: 

Now, you may think that this is one of those rants where I say that selling holiday candy early is a sign of the collapse of civilization, but A) it's less than a month until Valentine's Day so I consider it within a proper time frame, and B) I live in New York State, so I'm getting a good look at much bigger causes of the collapse of civilization.

No, my issue with this 12-pack of chocolate boxes is the middle guy -- the guy who looks like Mr. Incredible's brunette brother with the "You're Incredible" tag line.

Thinner, though.

I think I smell a cease-and-desist letter from Disney's lawyers on the way.

I really don't know how the chocolate company expects to get away with it, Disney being so notorious for suing everything that moves to protect its money-machine characters. Maybe they don't expect to get away with it... over the long term. Elmer Chocolate, the 164-year-old company behind these, might get the fiery missive from Disney and say, "Sure, we'll stop selling it as quickly as possible!" And "as quickly as possible" turns out to be February 15.

The thing is, kids know trademarks better than adults do. Mom or Grandma might buy that set of chocolate boxes and think, Okay, it's got that super whosis from the movie Ethan watches over and over, but Ethan and his friends all know that's not the REAL Mr. Incredible. "Grandma went cheap," Ethan mumbles in embarrassment. "She didn't get the REAL Disney-branded candy."

Well, Ethan, take heart. (Literally.) You're better off. I swear on my taste buds that the worst piece of chocolate I ever ate, possibly among the three worst things I have ever put in my mouth, was a real-life honest-to-God Disney/Star Wars branded piece of chocolate. If you like the taste of fossil fuels, you might have liked it better than I did. Just know that being an officially licensed character product doesn't mean it's good.

(You shouldn't have to worry for a while about the two other worst things I alluded to, Ethan -- a Flaming Viking shot and a Sputnik cigarette from Village Cigars -- dreadful -- fortunately I did not have both on the same night.)

I don't blame Elmer Chocolate for not kowtowing to the Mouse to spend a fortune to get a dumb Disney face on the box. I just think using the word "Incredible" was a little too on the nose. It doesn't fool the kids and it just pokes the bear.

Look out.

Don't say you weren't warned.

Nothing but love songs.

With Valentine's Day approaching, the topic of love songs is close to everyone's heart. Now, what constitutes a great love song differs from person to person. For one person, it might be "As Time Goes By." For another, "Melancholy Baby." For another, "Yakkity Sax." There's no accounting for taste.

I seem to recall Mark Steyn, in discussing the womanizing career of brilliant Broadway composer Richard Rodgers, pondering how a man like that could write such stirring and beloved love songs as "Some Enchanted Evening" and "If I Loved You." And it's a good question. Many of our favorite romantic songs have been written by people who, in their personal lives, barely seem able to muster the affection to stay with one other human for more than eighteen minutes. And yet they can write the words, music, or both pledging love eternal.

Here's a chart I whipped up of twenty favorite songs, often heard at wedding receptions, and how the songwriters themselves scored in the game of love:

There are a number of things we can learn from this chart. The first is, if tempted to marry Pattie Boyd, maybe give it further consideration. For another, divorce can break up a great songwriting team. For a third, Lionel Ritchie has a lot to answer for. Fourth, just because a guy is named Love doesn't mean he's good at keeping it going. And finally, Bruno Mars may have been less than serious in his request to join in wedded bliss.

Now, you may object. You may note that I have my facts wrong here. It's possible; I don't know music trivia at this microscopic a level and may have screwed up the details. You may note that this skirts over the details, like the sad cases behind many of the divorces, sometimes happening against the will of the songwriter. I'll grant you that, too. You may wonder why I didn't include the thrice-divorced Billy Joel. I just forgot him, but yeah; ditto for others I didn't think of. You may be a big fan of Pattie Boyd and think I'm giving her the Yoko Ono treatment here. We can take that up another time.

But mainly, you may point out that I'm cherry-picking. After all, other songsters have had very long-lasting marriages. Irving Berlin had two marriages and outlived both wives; his first wife died less than a year into the marriage in 1912, and his second marriage began in 1926 and ended with her passing in 1988. And Neil Sedaka is still married to the same woman, Leba, that he married in 1962 -- unlike the Captain and Tennille, who had a big hit with his "Love Will Keep Us Together," but it did not for them beyond 39 years.

So sure, there are examples of love-song writers who stayed in love. But the question is, why don't they ALL stay in love? Aren't they the love experts?

Well, maybe not. We know some people are addicted to drama; it doesn't mean that they aren't really feeling those dramatic moments when someone hurts them or they fall in love (or lust). They are 100% sincere... while it lasts. And while it lasts they may compose something great. Further, these hit songwriters have a knack for putting tunes and/or words together in an expressive way that the rest of us can't, which also means that they can use these talents to pump up the volume on what may for them be a passing mood. Were they not music writers they might have been salesmen.

I guess in the end we must always remember that musicians, like actors, are excellent at appearing to be something they are not, and it may be safe to assume they're worse than they look, especially regarding matters de l'amour.

Unlike novel writers. We always mean it.

Next on Hallmark.

The Hallmark Channel presents Valentine's Date, a sequel to its Christmas film Christmas Date!

[Scene: The Christmas Shoppe, morning. The Christmas bells over the door jingle as PHYLLIS enters. ZEKE, a handsome young man with two days' worth of beard, is already behind the counter, painstaking assembling a gingerbread castle.]

Zeke: Good morning, Snowflake! How are you today?

Phyllis: Don’t call me Snowflake.

Zeke: Candy Cane?

Phyllis: No.

Zeke: Elfy Welfy?

Phyllis: Zeke, knock it off. I’m not in the mood. (Throws coat on counter)

Zeke: Ooh, someone’s being an icicle today.

Phyllis: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Zeke: (Puts down a gingerbread brick) How about a nice peppermint hot cocoa?

Phyllis: Oh, God, no!

Zeke: Okay, what’s wrong?

Phyllis: Oh, I don’t know…I mean I guess…I’m sorry, Zeke, but I’m…

Zeke: What? What is it, Fruitcake?

Phyllis: Zeke!

Zeke: Sorry, sorry.

Phyllis: It’s that… I’m tired of Christmas, okay?

Zeke: (gasps) No!

Phyllis: I know, I know, you taught me to love Christmas again and I fell for you…

Zeke: Yes, that’s right! Less than two months ago you were a mean, hard-bitten executive for Smashola Corporation looking to destroy our plucky little year-round Christmas store for the new Smashola headquarters.

Phyllis: Right, until you taught me that just because I didn’t get the bike I wanted when I was a kid---

Zeke: I thought it was the Barbie Malibu house.

Phyllis: That too. I had a long list. Never mind... That just because of that I should never have soured on Christmas, and you were right.

Zeke: See? And now you work with me and we’re going to be married! So what’s wrong?

Phyllis: It’s February 11^th, Zeke! I am sick of snow, I am sick of mistletoe, I am sick of picking up pine needles, and I am sick of Christmas! (bawls)

Zeke: Aw, come on, Phyllis, it’s not that bad. Don’t tell me you miss the soulless life of a corporate lawyer.

Phyllis: No, but I miss the Audi.

Zeke: You remember what I told you about that?

Phyllis: “We’ll always have our sleigh.” Yeah.

Zeke: You laughed at that.

Phyllis: Until the first time we got a busted runner. Look, Zeke, this isn’t working out.

Zeke: Come on, Sugarplum.

Phyllis: Damn it!

Zeke: Let’s have some sugar cookies and talk this out.

Phyllis: Does everything have to be Christmas with you? All the time? Cookies and stockings and reindeer and Santa caps and twinkly lights and AAAAAAARRRRGH!

Zeke: But you said you loved my family’s store!

Phyllis: I do… but can’t you do other holidays too?

Zeke: Other? Holidays?

Phyllis: So you might have some customers? Like in July?

Zeke: But Old Mrs. Hawkins comes in once a week to buy gingerbread… Old Mr. Peabody likes to get some tinsel now and then?

Phyllis: Did you go over the books like I told you?

Zeke: Sure, I went over lots of books. A Christmas Carol, The Christmas Box, The Christmas Shoes, The Christmas Dog...

Phyllis: You know what? Never mind. (grabs coat)

Zeke: Where are you going?

Phyllis: (mumbling) To see if I can swing a used RS5.

[Scene: Street in front of Zeke’s store. As Phyllis emerges she runs into Pete, carrying three dozen roses. She and PETE, a handsome young man with three days' worth of beard, stumble into a comical embrace.]

Phyllis: Oh, sorry!

Pete: (smiles) I’m not.

Phyllis: I’m Phyllis.

Pete: Pete Lulubelle.

Phyllis: What’s with all the roses? There’s not a single thorn!

Pete: We never let a rose leave the shop with a single blemished petal or prickly thorn. I guess we’re old-fashioned that way, but I am the fourth generation of Lulubelle florists.

Phyllis: That’s quite a name! Where’s your shop?

Pete: Just down a couple of blocks. It’s called the Valentine’s Day Store. We've been--- Hey! Phyllis?

[Phyllis seen running as fast as she can in corporate lawyer heels the other way. End Act I.]

[Commercial break: Ad for the upcoming April Hallmark Channel film event, Arbor Date!]

More decor.

Mr. Philbin took issue with me following my piece yesterday on the family with that still has a Christmas tree in their picture window. He said I should have mentioned, especially as this site has a No-Santa-Shaming policy, that many people in such northern climes as these are stuck with their outdoor Christmas decorations until the spring thaw. And I concede the point. You may have put the lights along the edge of the second-story roof on a pleasingly cool day in November, but you do not want to take them off on a ice-ridden frost-bitten blustery nightmare from the Ninth Circle in February. 

Just saying, though, probably wouldn't be
too hard to bring this guy in off the porch.

We've had some mild days this winter, so most houses with any decoration at this point have Valentine's Day hearts and the like. 

Awwwww

The question is, when do you take those down? Christmas, as I've discussed ad nauseum, is a season, not one day; other holidays are one day. So should the hearts come down on February 15? But no one seems to be in a rush to do that around here, except maybe Irish families that are a little hard on the Irish Pride, who already have shamrock stuff up. As far as public decor goes, Valentine's Day will last until the end of the month.

We've gotten into the habit of thinking of months as the most popular holiday associated with them, and decorate accordingly:

January - New Year's
February - Valentine's Day
March - St. Patrick's Day
April - Easter
May - Memorial Day
June - First Day of Summer
July - Independence Day
August - Uhhh
September - Back to School
October - Halloween
November - Thanksgiving
December - Christmas

There are three problems with our approach:

1) August, obviously, needs a big holiday of some kind. Perhaps Bad Poetry Day (the 18th), National Dog Day (26th), or Be an Angel Day (22nd) could get some traction.

2) Easter sometimes falls as early as March, so you have a wreck when it collides with St. Patrick's Day, and then there's nothing for April but leftover bunnies and eggs.

3) Holidays like Presidents Day, Veterans Day, and even Labor Day get overlooked because of the more popular holidays that fall in the same month. Everyone loves Labor Day because of the long weekend, but how do you decorate for that? Getting the kids off to school is much easier and much better anyway.

So there's a lot to this holiday business we still haven't worked out. As for us, we're getting ready for Old Stuff Day on March 2, by throwing old stuff all over the lawn. Which is how some of my St. Patrick's days have wound up, too, come to think of it.

Ice and fire.

So: How I tragically gave myself a minor burn on St. Valentine's Day while cooking, a burn that was pretty much completely healed by Wednesday morning.

I blame the burn on the ice. 

If you live in the south, or otherwise have had very little experience with ice, you may not have experienced this: Sometimes snow will be followed by freezing rain, the cherry on the top of a misery sundae. We had that sundae on Sunday, leaving a hard crust on top of the extant snow. It breaks easily; here's a thrilling action film of the ice being broken.

The problem is that the dogs were having a terrible time with it, because at their height the hard ice shell was like marching through a field of triangular plastic shards. Or one foot might fall through to the snow beneath while the other three skidded on the surface. Even quadrupeds have trouble with winter.

What made me furious was that while I was trying to cook a delicious dinner for my loving wife, both dogs in turn wanted desperately to relieve themselves on that lawn full of shards, but when doing so were paralyzed with such icy discomfort that it turned into disaster, delay, and disgruntlement. Because I had food on the stove, a pot of pasta, a pot of sauce, and a pan with braciole. Also an injured wife, as I wrote on the 8th, which is why I wasn't asking her to tend to the mutts.

As you know if you've ever had dogs, they are infuriatingly picky about where they do their business. The little guy, Nipper, is facing his first winter, and it seems to be determined to throw something weird and new at him every week. He was as unable to poop as a guy who'd been on the cheese-rice-heroin diet for a month. The big guy, Tralfaz, normally loves winter -- I was caught a little while ago barking at him for loafing in the snow rather than, uh, loafing in the snow -- but he too was having a terrible time. I could tell he was not enjoying it when I saw him trying to do gazelle jumps to move without having to crash along the ice. Tralfaz is not equipped by nature to leap like a gazelle.

Meanwhile, my pasta was turning into a doughy clump, and everything else was drying out.

When Nipper and I gave up on one session, I rushed inside in a fit of pique to continue cooking. Unlike a toque, pique is not a good fit for cooking. I dumped pasta, stirred sauce, and then grabbed the handle of the pan.

The terrific pan I have, a Cuisinart number with a Cool Grip™ handle, can be grabbed safely with the naked hand -- but not if that handle has been dangling directly over the flame on the neighboring burner. Then you scream, freak out, curse a lot, and get your hand under cold water.

So that's how I got burned by ice -- ice that caused the dogs to be unable to defecate, which held up dinner (already in progress), which caused me to cook angry, which led to me to clutch a hot handle. Because I'm smart like that.

As for my wife, she was in so much pain from her fall on the ice that she went to the doctor, who sent her to a physical therapist, who found out she had whiplash. I barely knew whiplash was a thing, or at least a thing beyond fake lawsuits on shows like The Brady Bunch. But it is a real thing, and real painful too.

Whiplash and burns. What we don't do for our fuzzy little friends.

Inappropriate treats.

These popped up at a meeting I attended recently:

The package was new and unopened, until we tore into it headlong. So, how're YOUR New Year's resolutions working out?

JC's makes all kinds of pie-like treats, as seen on the company Web site. I don't think they make actual pies, but they make pie pops (frozen pie-inspired pops) and these pie bites, or pie-inspired truffles. The bites are available as turtle (caramel chocolate), s'mores, and so on; seasonally, the above white chocolate peppermint. So whoever catered the meeting was buying off the out-of-season discount rack. "Tis the Season" says the package; "Twas the Season," anyway, at this point.

And that's the funny thing---one bite of the truffle and I felt it was all wrong. The peppermint was as out of date as a leisure suit. I was astonished at the inappropriateness of the treat, more than a month after Christmas. Pumpkin would have been less weird; that will be around again in nine months, not eleven.

It's odd, how off the truffles were. It wasn't that they had passed their sell-by date. These things keep, and they come in an air-tight package, too. And it's not like we're beyond the trappings of Christmas, which in the secular sense include snow, always snow---we had snow yesterday and maybe more coming next week. But that peppermint and white chocolate combo was like a relative that had come for Christmas and was determined to hang around until hog-brandin' time.

All that said, the truffle was pretty good. Very sweet, of course, but that didn't seem to slow anyone down. Resolutions be damned---it'll be Valentine's Day in a week or so, and that's another avalanche of chocolate and calories anyhow.

Valentine's Guide for Guys.

Okay, it's Valentine's Day, and you haven't been thinking about it, but you're thinking about it right now because you're reading your friendly neighborhood Fred.

OMIGOD FRED I FORGOT I FORGOT I FORGOT SHE'S GOING TO MURDER ME AND CHOP ME UP AND BURY THE PIECES ALL OVER TOWN AND MAIL MY SPLEEN TO MY BOSS 

Relax! Old Fred is here to give you some advice. I've forgotten more about love than you'll ever know. In fact, I've forgotten all of it. But never mind! I'll see you through!


1) Forget the Usual Crap

Flowers, candy, dinner reservations -- just a waste of money. Well, not the reservations; they're free. They only cost money if you actually go eat the dinner. The point is, you don't want to do any of the boring things that every other guy does. All the good flowers and candy and reservations are gone by now anyway. A stale box of Whitman's and some gas station roses are not going to get it done.

2) Avoid These Other Boneheaded Ideas

What does she like? Besides flowers, chocolate, and fine dining, I mean. Clothes! Yeah, right. Good luck getting her something that fits. If it's too loose she'll think you think she's fat; if it's too tight she'll think she's fat. Land mine there, my friend.

Okay, how about jewelry? No jewelry in the gas station, pal. Going to spring for the local jewelry store? Good. Gold is $1,220 an ounce today. Better have a few drinks before you go to lessen the pain.

How about a gift card to her favorite store? How about showing her exactly how much you love her by showing her exactly how much you spent, eh? Yeah, that'll work, cheapskate.

Spring for pricey gift bags. These were $1 for 3.

3) Think: What's Hot Now?

Fifty Shades of Grey, right? Fantastic. So shell out for the helicopter ride, the glider, the weekend in the penthouse -- oh, wait, if you had that kind of dough you wouldn't have to ask me for advice. You'd have people for these things. What else is popular in the book and movie? Handcuffs, silk rope, duct tape? Great. You try giving her that and she'll call the cops.

4) Something Practical?

Sure, like a nice barbecue tongs or a new trash can. Or a Bissell carpet cleaner. That'll be awesome.

You know what? Maybe you should go hide somewhere until the fifteenth. Then pretend you were kidnapped and escaped. Sure, you'll wind up having to tell the story to the FBI, and they'll know you're lying immediately, but if you get some male FBI agents and tell them the truth they may let you go with a warning. And you'll get to keep your spleen.

Sweetness and light.

Thank heaven the holidays are over---at least in the United States, where Epiphany is celebrated on the Sunday after January 1 rather than on the exact date of January 6. Not that I am sick of Christmas. I'm just looking forward to tapering off the sweet stuff. You know, even I can hit the wall, but it's hard to lay off the candy when you're in the habit of stuffing it in your mouth. And I have 31 sweet teeth (one rotted away).

So I'm glad to have some time away from the sugar, because---

AAAYYYYEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

What the HELL?

This was the supermarket on Sunday. And they still haven't unloaded all the Christmas sugar. If you look closely, in the center of the picture are a couple of boxes of Christmas-themed animal crackers.

I think the love of chocolate is the main love being celebrated with this stuff. No guy in his right mind thinks it's a safe bet to chuck a sack of M&M's at his true love for Valentine's Day in lieu of really fine chocolate, unless she is obsessed with M&M's. And I mean so obsessed she wears M&M's pants.

Yeah, like that.

But if, unlike me, your loved one is serious about avoiding candy or all sugar or something for health reasons (not just because she or he wants to brag about being on a sugar fast), avoid giving them candy for Valentine's Day, and especially five weeks before Valentine's Day. It's hard enough to resist temptation. When it comes from someone you love and trust, it's even harder.

Just send the candy to me. I love you and trust you, but not that much. You can keep the M&M's pants.