I know all the cartoonists in the world are mourning the end of the Peanuts strip, and I understand why, but I haven't looked at it in years. Archie comics were a far greater influence on me stylistically, and funnier most of the time. I am totally sentimental about one product of Schultz' tremendous output, though. I adore Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown and watch it every year without fail. I love when Linus gets on stage and recites from the New Testament. The super cool dances the kids do at the rehearsal! And of course I love that great little song with the competing metres on each staff. I tried for years to master it. Never could do more than play one hand or the other. My friend Joan Hovnanian, the one I mentioned in the survey, could play the whole thing. Now that, I thought, was talent.
I didn't go to the office party last night. I went home early from work, in fact, white-faced with exhaustion and unable to do anything but collapse on the sofa for a few hours. Everyone else exchanged presents at the dinner. I received mine from my employers this morning: a beautiful gold bracelet. All of us got bracelets. Well, except Butch, I imagine. Marley gave me a delightful shoe ornament from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, one I'd coveted aloud more than once. Virginia gave me a basket of bath goodies. I love gift exchanges.
The day was fairly quiet, the only excitement coming from the snowstorm that enveloped Chicago and delayed all the flights in and out. I deftly revised schedules, called airlines tracking down errant clients, and rented cars for people who decided to drive rather than fly. I arranged several trips to Mexico, and pondered getting back there myself. A crazy guy came in and wanted to buy our Mickey Mouse towel from the window display. I directed him to a Disney Store at the mall. The United Airlines rep dropped by and brought us chocolates. And so the day wore on.
When I arrived home at last, I found this in the entryway of our condo. No one stole it! And no one stole the fruitcake that was delivered, either. Maybe the theft of Henry Pig was an aberration and I really can leave things out front. Or else they just don't want any fruitcake. Fools! Swiss Colony makes excellent fruitcake, moist and chewy. I had some tonight, and set the beautiful double poinsettia basket on our hall table where it's been relegated to make room for the Christmas tree. So festive, especially with the ubiquitous Christmas cows.
We're very excited about the Stanford Womens Volleyball Team advancing all the way to the finals tomorrow night. They put away Long Beach State, a very talented team, 3-0 last night in Hawaii. We listened to it on the radio. Tomorrow night's match for the NCAA championship is against Penn State. I like their setter, Bonnie Bremner, and they have some good outside hitters, but we have Kerri Walsh and Logan Tom, two of the most talented players in college history. I wish the final were being broadcast live on tv.
As more survey answers roll in, Rick and I muse over the strange statistics emerging. Virtually everyone mentions steak, for instance, as a component of the perfect meal. The only people who don't want to die at home in bed peacefully are the ones who aren't planning on dying at all. And I am astonished by the number of people who don't know Chou En-lai was Premier of China under Chairman Mao Tse-tung. I know half of the online diarists writing today were working on solid food about the time I was in college, but that's no excuse for not knowing one of the major players in the resumption of normal relations with the outside world by the People's Republic of China. We're talking about the 70's, not ancient history. As Rick points out, the interesting thing is that the choice between Chou and Kissinger tends to divide neatly down the border, with the Canadians picking Chou and the Americans (chiefly, I fear, because they simply recognise his name) picking Kissinger. I weep for you people, I really do.
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