Friday, March 21, 2014


Feast in the House of Simon, 1610, El Greco

And he said, "Taffeta is in this season representing the splendid colors of the Spring Solstice.  And there shall be much money spent on clothes and hats and matching shoes. Beauty parlors shall curl and snip and dye and bleach.  Much money.  And there will be ham.  All the children shall find joy in the form of a bountiful basket of Easter Eggs brought by a selfless and benevolent rabbit, the  Easter Bunny.  What better way to commemorate the bestowing of eternal life and exoneration from the sins of mankind!"

Friday, March 14, 2014


It was the best of times.  It was the worst of times.  It was an ergonomic train wreck, a simultaneous convergence of sad circumstances despoiling our home-heating utopia.  It was the face-off between the voracious wood-burning outdoor furnace and the indoor oil glutton.  In the middle stood a man for all seasons, mostly winter, who had hewn and split food for the former and kept on a diet the latter.

The wood furnace who got us through the winter
after eating every stick of wood in Mathews

Last night I returned to bed and heard him rise and proclaim, "You don't even know when the furnace is out."  Indeed I did not, but had I known I would have still gone to bed and accepted his put-down as some distorted form of "goodnight."

Unknown to me, he had disconnected the wood furnace and flipped the switch on the oil burner, who leaped with relish upon his first opportunity to show Husband his resentment by clogging up and sputtering out.  At 8 AM, I hear husband fussing in the kitchen about having to make a trip in the seafood truck, "...and I'm out of wood, and the @#$%*!* oil furnace is broken down, and I don't care!"

"Good Morning and have fun!," I sang out like a canary in a coal mine.  The dismal cloud followed Husband to the car and soon they were out of sight.

Oil Furnace having jealousy issues.

As I had my first cup of decaf, I felt a little like Oil Furnace, amused at the whole matter, and even a little satisfied.  Neither of us was informed by Husband before he installed the "Backyard Bimbo," as Oil Furnace dubbed him.  Neither of us deliberately engaged sabotage, but do see the a little bit of "go around, come around" here.

On the next try, Oil Furnace blasted forth heat and saved the day.  All is forgiven.