Close to Christmas at Clinton Square

Paying a few dollars to try to not fall on your butt for a couple hours is a yearly holiday tradition for many. I am of course referring to the dangerous sport of ice skating, as it is one of my favorite holiday festivities. Clinton Square, in the city of Syracuse, boasts an enormous live Christmas tree decked out in lights at the east end of the rink. My dendrological studies led me to believe the tree is a Norway Spruce, and my prediction was correct! See mom, I am learning things in school. The Clinton Square Ice Rink is  surrounded by a lovely assortment of holiday lights, casting an enchanting, colorful glow on the ice after the zamboni works its magic.

The rink is aglow with holiday spirit!

The Fabulous Female Drummer

Miss Viola Smith is the name. Performing as a female drummer in the 1930's is the game. In a time when the jazz scene was dominated by man, this bubbly young female took center stage, showing off her skills at tapping a beat. It sure is nifty to see a woman doing something that is historically improper or unsuitable for the time period. Take a look at Miss Viola Smith performing with jazz ensemble, the Coquettes. In this video she is doin' her thing, jamming with the Kit Kat Band. In both instances Miss Smith is performing alongside all-female company, which is pretty remarkable for the time period. Who knew women were any good at anything back then!

The one and only Miss Viola Smith behind the drums

A Closet Viper Can Be Many Things

I have been asking myself what a closet viper is since the term first entered my mind. It happened on a Thursday morning as I was selecting an outfit to wear to school. I peered into the mirror, dawning blue cordurory pants and a black thermal shirt. It was a rather frumpy ensemble. I thougt silently to myself, "I look like a closet viper." Having never heard the term before, I was perplexed at why my mind had insulted my choice of clothing this way. Curious to know what my friends and family thought a closet viper could be, I sent out a text message asking, "If a closet viper were a thing, what would it be?" Here are the responses:

"Hmm I'm thinking of some sort of snake animal that's very dangerous and only likes small dark areas. Or it could be a super villain."

"A gay car or a gay snake or a deadly reptile found in closet"

"A flexible clothes rack that hangs up your clothes from the drier so you don't have to"

"A venomous neck tie"

"A snake that waits in your closet that bites you as soon as you open the door. It would have similar coloration to argile socks"

"A viciously aggressive snake overcompensating for the fact that it hasn't come to terms yet with its true sexuality. Obviously."

"It's something that attacks you when you open your closet. Kills you"

"A snake that attacks as you enter a closet!?!"

"A snake that lives in a closet

"A thick, hairy snake with sharp teeth, also lacks venom. Only attacks if it feels threatened. Prefers messy closets. Original habitat: Idaho"


"A cross between a closet gay, a vixen, and a viper. Like, nobody knows but they're actually a foxy snake"

"A vicious snake, like a cobra that lives in a closet, or some other dark place"

"A snake that hides in closets"


"Something scary that can't survive outside the confines of a closet perhaps"

"Uhhhh either a snake in a closet orrrr someone who would rob you blind through bad investments.... or is this a riddle?"

I'm never ashamed to ask strange favors of my friends, but they are usually more than happy to help. The most amusing aspect of this little experiment is that all but one of the contacts that responded replied with a colorful answer without first questioning why I sent such a strange text. It appears that my friends enjoy sending strange texts as much as I do.

A House Without a Dog

I have never lived in a house where a dog was not a part of the family. Old English Sheepdogs have been the mainstay since before I was born, although we have rescued a few mutts in the past. The sheepdogs were usually rescues as well. With every rescue comes the joys and challenges of discovering a new dog's quirks and mannerisms.

I remember the day my grandma and papa came home with Elmo, our most recent Old English Sheepdog. My mom had told my sister and I that grandma and papa had gone on a trip, but didn't divulge more information than that. I remember peering out the window that day, and seeing a big, white, fluffy dog prancing through the backyard. My heart skipped a beat as I put two and two together, realizing this big puffball was the newest member of our family.

Elmo was a very excitable dog. Just by walking up to him and jumping up and down a few times, he'd reciprocate the motion, jumping up and down right next to me. One of the most amazing things about Elmo is that we never trained him with an electric fence, but we always let him out to run free in the yard. He never ran away, and never even left my grandma's property. My grandma lives in a suburb, on the corner of one of the busiest streets in the neighborhood. Some people refer to it as the Elmwood Avenue Expressway. A sidewalk is the only barrier separating my grandma's yard from that busy street. Elmo never once crossed that threshold.

Elmo and I would sometimes play a game called "Legless Dog" where I would get on all fours and try to tap his paws as he stealthily dodged my blows. Eventually he would get smart and tuck his front paws completely under his body, so he looked like a legless dog. It was one of the cutest things I've seen him do.

Another silly game we'd play involved one of us girls tying our hair back in a scrunchy. We would lay on the ground, call Elmo over, and he would immediately start working to pull the scrunchy out. He was so gentle, never causing injury with his teeth, but he would nibble eagerly until he loosened the scrunchy enough to undo the ponytail.

Elmo never learned to play fetch, but he loved to catch snow. I could just take a handful, toss it up for him, and he would leap into the air and "catch" it with his teeth. He was also very graceful as he leapt and bound through the snow. He really seemed to love running through it. It is heartbreaking that he did not get a chance to enjoy the glories of snow this year. I will be thinking of him the first time I put on my snow suit to relish in the winter wonderland of my grandma's enormous front yard. Cancer took him from us suddenly. I was with him less than a week ago before travelling back to school, and he seemed to be his normal, cheerful self. I even played the hopping game with him. We will never know the pain he may have experienced in these last few weeks or months, but he was a very brave and loving boy until the very end.

Enjoying the snow while my grandma shovels away
February 26, 2010

We always thought he looked like a polar bear
February 26, 2010

Licking whipped cream off of my friend's foot
June 22, 2011

Always smiling for the camera
November 17, 2012

Possible New Species Discovery

Meet Arturo. He's not from around here. No one is really sure where he is from. Whether he is a mutant or a new species has yet to be determined. He appears to be a cross between the common octopus (Octopus vulgaris) and Tyrannosaurus rex. He was found stranded on a remote Chilean beach after a local fisherman alerted authorities that he had been rescued and brought ashore by a mysterious tentacled beast. Arturo measures twenty-five feet across from tentacle to tentacle. He is currently being held at the Santiago Zoo while researchers determine what to do with him. Because of Arturo's unusual physiology, the scientific community is hard-pressed to get their hands dirty and learn more about this magnificent creature.

There was no available enclosure for Arturo, so he was placed in the
same tank as a dwarf  humpback whale, a colossal tuna, and a herculean
shrimp. All three of these creatures are part of the Misterios Biologicos
del Mar (Biological Mysteries of the Sea) exhibit. The three
headed eel escaped earlier this month.

Arturo seems to be enjoying his temporary home. The dinosaur-
octopus crossbreed was seen canoodling with Ingrid, the
herculean shrimp, behind the rare spagetti coral specimen.

The rainbow spouting dino-ocoptus known as Dinopulpo
was thought to be an invention of ancient Chilean
mythology. Scientists and Chilean mythologists
are reconsidering the facts. Arturo has yet
to be spotted expelling rainbow beams.
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Cuddly as a Cactus

I have this terrible habit of not fully paying attention to lyrics when I am listening to music. I often just get more caught up in the beat and the rhythm of the music. My family and I were listening to the holiday music station on the drive back to school on Sunday. "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" came on, and this time I payed close attention to the lyrics. I never quite realized how silly and obscure some of the lines are, but it's really quite amusing.

This song is full of insults that could have been contrived by a group of young children before they learned how to properly incorporate swear words into their discourse. That is except for the insults that utilize words like appalling and deplorable. These bigger, more sophisticated words seem to make the slanderous lyrics of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" cut even deeper. I wonder what sort of cunning insults Mr. Grinch himself would be able to produce. He probably has gotten a lot of practice over the years.

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch

You really are a heel.

You're as cuddly as a cactus,

And as charming as an eel,

Mr. Grinch!

You're a bad banana,

With a greasy black peel!

You're a monster, Mr. Grinch!

Your heart's an empty hole.

Your brain is ful of spiders.

You've got garlic in your soul,

Mr. Grinch!

I wouldn't touch you

With a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!

You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch!

You have termites in your smile.

You have all the tender sweetness

Of a seasick crocodile,

Mr. Grinch!

Given the chocse between the two of you,

I'd take the seasick crocodile!

You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch!

You're a nasty, wasty skunk!

Your heart is full of unwashed socks.

Your soul is full of gunk,

Mr. Grinch!

The three words that best describe you

Are as follows, and I quote,

"Stink, stank, stunk!"

You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch!

You're the king of sinful sots!

Your heart's a dead tomato,

Splotched with moldy, purple spots,

Mr. Grinch!

Your soul is an appalling dump-heap,

Overflowing with the most disgraceful

assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable,

Mangled-up in tangled-up knots!

You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch!

With a nauseous super naus!

You're a crooked jerky jockey,

And you drive a crooked horse,

Mr. Grinch!

You're a three-decker sauerkraut

and toadstool sandwich,

With arsenic sauce!

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Walking Gracefully

What does it mean to walk gracefully? Last Thursday, three generations of family discussed an array of topics while sitting around a table dotted with dessert plates and dirty forks. The eldest woman at the table described the day she realized she would never walk gracefully again. It was not in a tone of remorse that she told her story. She is after all, a very optimistic woman. The woman recalled instances of walking down the sidewalk and catching a glimpse of her reflection in a storefront. She would sometimes think to herself, "oh my, is that really how I look when I walk?" The elderly do tend to exhibit a slower, stiffer gait, but who's to say that this style of walking does not possess its own sort of gracefulness.

This woman who claims that she will never walk gracefully again is a woman who is more articulate and full of life than any woman of her age I have ever known. This is a woman who was a teenager during the 1930's, endured the Great Depression, and witnessed the glories and fads of nearly all of the distinct decades of the last century. The gait of old age that she has adopted by no choice of her own should be fully embraced. She is a woman of great dignity, with an abundance of wisdom to impress on others.

Her slow, purposeful movement is nothing if not graceful.

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