Wednesday, December 27, 2006

That is the night before the Christmas

You may remember my slightly strange activity that I call retransing, which is using an online translator to translate into, and back from a foreign language in order to create something funny, (or just completely random.) I am at it again.

In the spirit of the Holiday, I present to you, A Visit from St. Nick.

That is the night before the Christmas, passing by the house completely because the mouse is not made equal, you stirred any creative things which are not,

The stocking caught with the smokestack of worry of the desire that, St. Nicholas directly is there,

As for offering/accompanying with their beds as for range of vision of the candy it danced with the head, but you drew close entirely securely

And for napping the long winter, it solved mamma of her handkerchief, and I of my hats exactly,

When with the lawn that kind of the sound which is said shakily happening there, as for problem those which are in order to see I leapt from the bed.

I like the flash flew in the window, pulled the shutter which was opened and tore, and threw on the sash.

Month of chest of snow which was dropped newly gave the gloss of noon to purpose next

The miniature sleigh, and the reindeer of 8 minimum something to the eyes which are thought in my doubt should appear, the time

The small old operator and, therefore and it was fast actively, I had known when that becomes St. Nick,

Quicker that coursers than ワシ it came, he blew called the whistle, shouted, and those with appointing;

"Now, Dasher! Now, the dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! Comet! Cupid! Donder and Blitzen!

On porch! On wall! The current dash which leaves! Dash! Be mixed up do everything!

When meeting to the leaf and the obstacle which "it flies before the hurricane of the wildness and dries,

So it threw as a mount to the sky to house-top, coursers of toy and complete sleigh of St. Nicholas.

And next, with glitter, I inquired about prancing and pawing of the hoof where each is small with the roof.

That I pulled by my hand, turned simultaneously, Nicholas came with the limit under saint of the smokestack.

As for him, the clothes to that feet from that head of all furs as for arrival and that clothing all ashes and the smut it changed color;

He threw with that, and depending upon him like the fair entrance of the itinerant merchant the bundle of the toy where that pack is visible.

Whether -- those shone or, that eye! The cheerful how that cavity! That cheek seemed like that nose like the rose and the cherry!

The that droll small mouth was pulled like the bow, self-depreciation of that jaw the snow was white;

The smoke which surrounds that head like the flower garland and the stump of the tube which he grasps hard with that tooth;

There was a wide surface in him, the small circular stomach shook, that him like bowlful of the jelly when laughing.

He is chubby, in spite even in by my I meet to him the time, portly you laugh, the right being pleasant, the old elf, me;

The ま of that eye twist of going back and forth and that head in order to know that has nothing the fact that I fear, gave me directly;

He spoke the word which is not, but it advanced to that work straightly, and satisfied stocking everything;

The fact that side you put that finger of the urgent movement, and that nose, and the fact that signal on the smokestack is given, then being turned, he rose stand;

He leapt to that sleigh, it gave the whistle to that team, like the feather of everyone thistle it flew.

But as for me before he drove from vision, "everything happy Christmas to everything he who inquires about that you shout is completed cripes."

Wow...just wow. Yeah, don't ask. I have NO idea where "cripes" even came from. Soon we'll have the outcome of the Trivial Pursuit competition. So far we've found out that we are pretty even, (the Brother in Law has a half game edge,) and we shouldn't let my Mum play, she aparently knows almost everything...about everything...except maybe basketball.

I will provide the final results as soon as they are available, as well as the results of the impromptu billiards tournament that has been going on. Until then I leave you with:
"Dash! Be mixed up do everything!"

All for now,

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Freak Curling Accident

Well, the last post brought on more comments than usual. The Fabulous Mira seems to have sparked some debate as to the validity of playing Trivial Pursuit against family members. I agree with the Sis on this one; who you are playing against is less than relevant unless you grew up in a bubble together. And, I am pretty sure that Mira is 3X New Year’s Eve champ because I wasn’t there for any of those games. (Zing!) I was on her team for our last round of Shout About, (at her birthday,) and we kicked more than a little ass in both games.

But alas, I now declare that subject closed until after the Championship has concluded. It is time to move to more pressing matters. Like how much my foot is FREAKING KILLING ME right now.

Sunday at the curling club started out like any Sunday at the curling club. [Curling: n/v – origin, Scotland – 1. The OTHER Canadian dominated sport played on ice.] Show up, change, stretch, shake hands with the other team while exchanging pleasantries such as “Nice to meet you,” “Good Curling!” or “You are SO going down!” Next, I moved on to the ice to start the game and noticed something strange. The ice was pretty slippery.

Let me take a moment here to explain to those of you who do not curl that I am not completely insane. Yes, ice is always slippery. But, curling ice is pebbled, (they lightly sprinkle water onto the ice so it is not smooth but has a “bumpy” texture, kind of like an orange peel,) and we wear soft rubber soled shoes that grip the ice. Sometimes due to temperature changes or other phenomenon that I am not aware of, the ice gets frosty, (yes, frost on ice, just accept that I know what I am talking about,) and then it is slipperier than normal.

Anyway, I throw second so I was sure to be careful while sweeping our Lead’s rocks until it was my turn to throw. As I moved to the end to take my turn however, I had a momentary lapse of balance and started to slip. Experienced curlers have two instincts if they find themselves falling during a game: 1) Don’t crash your broom on the ice if you can help it, and 2) Don’t crash your head on the ice if you can help it. I managed crash neither broom nor head on the ice and landed solidly on my rump, which may already have a couple pounds of the winter weight on it so it was a decently padded landing. But, here is where the “Freak” part of the accident comes in. At the end of a sheet of curling ice there is a bumper to stop rocks that run through the house. This bumper is just high enough that I can almost get my foot under it. As I slipped, I attempted to jam my foot into that too small space, (not on purpose,) and seeing as it only almost fits, I caught the end of my toe and nearly ripped my big toenail clean off.

I’ll pause here while everyone makes either the universal “Ooo-that-musta-hurt” grimace, or the “Ooo-I’ve-done-that-it-does-hurt” wince with nod.

So now it’s Wednesday and I think I may be in more pain than when it actually happened. I woke up at about four this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep because of it, and I’ve actually considered whether it would be better to just lose the entire foot. (Only briefly, I know how lucky I am to have all my working body parts.) You’d be surprised how hard it is to concentrate when someone is jamming a spike into your toe while it is on fire! Ok, I’m exaggerating and probably sound like a bit of a baby…but I don’t care!

In other recent news, Christmas is upon us so the cubicle decorations have made their way out of the box again and this year my floor is having a team decorating challenge! Stay tuned for pictures.

Icicle lights + green cardboard cut-outs + glue + glitter = no end of holiday fun!

All for now,