Nice and Naughty ;-)

The last day of twenty-twelve.  Why do i prefer even-numbered years to odd?  Maybe being born in an even-numbered one inclined me towards it; maybe it doesn't matter.

I wonder how long i can leave up the holiday lights?  Hanukkah was the 8th to the 16th, winter solstice December 21st, Christmas the 25th, and New Year's is tomorrow.  Maybe February ... that's it, Valentine's Day might be a good take-down deadline.  Or  perhaps tomorrow.

Okay peeps, this is your last day to enjoy indulgences that you might promise to stay away from next year—seize the day/night, for tomorrow *is* next year.  Do yourself a favor:  do something naughty!  Food, sex, et cetera.  Enjoy!

happy, merry

heh, this morning on a Facebook thread i'm following, someone was complaining of the regulations his company must follow; as a christmas present, i kindly did not suggest that he take his company to China and see how he likes it there.  :-)

and i just got back from my morning run on this perfect white christmas morning.  nobody out on the roads; my footprints were the first on the new-fallen snow; and a few unhurried snowflakes hung in the air, deciding where to land.

happy day, peeps!

My Excuse For Missing All The 12s

Yesterday morning i took a bicycle ride to my bank in Clinton at 11:20; it's only about three miles away, so i'd have plenty of time to come back and take a picture of my fiancé's funky digital clock on 2012-12-12 at 12:12 and 12 seconds.
    It was cold out, so i bundled up.  The ride over to the bank takes ten or fifteen minutes, and i pull up to the bank just as some woman wearing a sweatshirt (hood down) goes into the ATM vestibule, which has a door into the bank.  I follow her, walking my bicycle, which i leave in the alcove at the front of the bank, along with my hat, gloves, and helmet.
    Since i'm cashing in some Savings Bonds, i figure i shouldn't get in line for the teller but instead go talk to a manager or something.  So i bypass the velvet rope area and walk over to a section of glassed-in cubes; a dark-haired woman at a desk waves me over.  I sit down, show her the Savings Bonds and my IDs, and wait while she takes them back behind the teller's counter (after she'd explained that i could actually have taken them to a teller).
    It's taking a long time!  What's she doing back there?!?  I check my phone—11:50—and look behind me; i can see her behind the glass on the other side of the counter.  Damned, i'm not going to be home to see all the 12s after all.  Hum-dee-dum.  I look back again, and this time she's not behind the counter, but i see the reflection in the glass of her walking back.  Finally!
    "I'm sorry that took so long," she says.  "We've just had a robbery."
    A robbery!?!
    "Is every one all right?" i ask calmly.  "I didn't even hear anything."  I turn around again and now there are several cops, both uniformed and plain-clothes, walking around.
    "A woman in a hoodie handed the teller a note asking for all the money in the drawer.  She said her partner had a gun."
    Hmmm, maybe i'm glad i didn't go to the teller queue after all.
    "Hey, who's bicycle is this?" asks one of the cops.
    "Ah, that would be mine," i say, twisting around; the cop nods.  "Sorry, i didn't see anything.  My back was turned the whole time."

By the time i looked at  my phone again, it was 12:18.  Oh well, no 12s.  Another fifteen minutes for her to get the money for my Savings Bonds and for me to sign them over.
    But at least there was time for me now to stop at Bolton Orchards for a cup of cider or two on the way home.