Sunday, November 25, 2012

A Month from Now

I never thought I'd say I am looking forward to the start of my work week tomorrow but I actually am. I was off for the Thanksgiving holiday on Thursday which my family and I spent in Manhattan at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, along with 5.2 million other close personal friends (of someone I suppose though not necessarily of me)

On Friday, I helped my son finish his move from Stonington Borough back to Mystic, a trip he made in the opposite direction not that long ago. When people ask me why I'm such a hard ass where I live (Norwich, Connecticut) with elected leadership that is barely the former and most certainly not the latter, I think of our two children and the absolute certainty I have our daughter, like her brother, will be living other than where her parents do because we who live here continue to fail to create a place to come home to for our children to live. If you're wondering  who I hold responsible, I'll give you seven guesses (and they all count).  

Saturday in these parts made me smile. It was Small Business/Shop Local Saturday but proving someone has a puckish sense of humor, we had some serious parking bans in effect in our downtown area because of our annual winterfest parade. The illumination of City Hall, by the way newspaper persons, was at FIVE. I was there, trust me on that one. And it was gorgeous!

Today would be a day I could vegetate in front of the television and watch American professional football except I don't follow the sport anymore. Perhaps because I enjoy the sport the rest of the world calls football too much I can't get really passionate about muscle-bound guys who play third down in running situations only while some cretin in a booth, who used to play this same sport, calls him a 'warrior.' He isn't-he's a show biz kid and you're a moronic imbecile for lying to me about the guy's prowess and ability.

Meanwhile halfway around the world dodging bullets and ducking Breedwell innuendo we have kids, yeah people who are eighteen, nineteen and twenty years old are kids, working on mysteries without a clue for a monthly salary half of what your football 'hero' tips room service when he checks out of the hotel after an away game. Such a manly man.

A month from now, it's Christmas, a time of peace on earth and goodwill towards mankind. And fruitcake that no one knows what to do with and is too afraid to just throw out. For many of us this is the most wonderful time of the year-I've yet to be convinced, but check back in a month and, together, we'll see what if anything has changed. These are, after all, days of miracle and wonder. And batteries not included.
-bill kenny

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