Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Happy Boxing Day to You, from this (at moment) Perfect Prose-spewing Pugilistic moment, where the Middling City shines as bright as a newly-minted Indian penny.
Since just about Thanksgiving it's been a cavalcade of parties and holiday madness continues with a few more to lead into 2008 - which Yours Truly has deemed Year of Art.
In summation, or to create a bit of a Holiday Party Tableau, here, in no particular order, are some musings and happenstances from a hand-picked few sans all names of the cast of characters, no dates, no definite placings – for privacy & magical mystery's sake.

• A nice little electric blue fireball shot above a cast iron sauce pan on stovetop after being ignited to fabricate a lovely, festive rum punch. Manning the handle, the person who'd lit the 1000proof liquid shook the pan, further enabling the fireball. YT took matters into her right hand, reached for a nearby frying pan's lid and dropped it atop the situ. Nothing but rum and sundry other ingredients was scorched. YT was praised by a third person in room for Being good in an emergency. I was a camp counselor for ten years, YT proffered.
• Following a party in the late-night exurbs a nearly-vintage automobile was driven off-road. NB: not an SUV so off-road not so good. Especially at early morn hours of Christmas. In a frozen field. Roadside discussion ensued - to return to party about one mile away to fetch some big, burly rockstars and the like, or to use a missing AAA card to acquire some assistance. But a cop was part of this situ, and a license was also not so present, and things got so complicated but worked out alright in the end. The MC's exurbs might look very benign, but taking it low & slow (as they say in the aeronautics world) is very wise indeed.
• Figgy pudding. Figgy pudding. Figgy pudding. Served amid a lovely meal of trad and nouvelle cuisine. And, like a dream, figgy pudding. As well as Bouche Noël. Speaking of flambé, some of that action for said figgy pudding. And then the screeching of culinary brakes as most at this fete dutifully eat, or feign to eat the fruity, raisin-rich, creamy treat. OK, YT loves figgy pudding. Not one other person in this room ate more than a spoonful. YT received a nice Veuve toast, and applause.
• Amid a holiday gathering someone mutters, kind of sadly, or wistfully, Are the holidays over yet to a rather equally-mixed effect.
• Grooving on Old School MC Vibes, a few guests at a gathering decide to rearrange artwork on the walls. Hostess tipsily compliments the bold moves. It is not discussed again.

Onwards to creative high times.
Boxing, Love.