Fake Thanksgiving

Because our plans on actual Thanksgiving Day don't include my kitchen, we're having Fake Thanksgiving here on Sunday.

Fake Thanksgiving is very similar to the real one except I am armed with 3 extra shopping days and a week's worth of Food Network specials. Yesterday I got the prime jumbo turkey because they weren't all picked over, and we can watch other football games besides the Lions and Cowboys.

Keeping with non-Thanksgiving theme, we got an early Christmas/late hurricane present. Because we didn't use our hurricane days this fall (yay el nino!) we get an extra day off from school and don't have to go back until Decemberfreakingfirst, ya'll. You can best believe I'm pretty thankful for that.

And speaking of stepping away from the Food Network, Sean does not think that Paula Deen's Deep-Fried Cranberry Sauce Fritters sound like a little piece of breaded heaven. I think he's crazy and needs to be committed.

But then again he may have had a different opinion if he actually saw her make them with Kermit the Frog.

Signs of Crazy

I told you the yard sign issue would continue, and so it has.

So's the signs have now quadrupled in the neighborhood with no sign of rebuke from our useless homeowner's ass. In addition to the presidential declarations, a new one cropped up yesterday on our Proposition 2, which is a proposal to ban gay marriage with a Florida Constitutional amendment.

The sign explains the amendment by saying, "1 man+1 woman=legal marriage" Protect marriage or some such thing that I really didn't feel like explaining to my 8 year-old when he asked what that sign meant.

So, dutifully, instead of putting up my own sign that reads, "I live in a neighborhood of idiots," I wrote my homeowner's ass. with a repeat complaint, including the gay-bashing sign for all to read and to explain to their children coming off the bus stop in a neighborhood that doesn't allow signs, even when it is a resident's business owned truck that has his landscaping company's name printed on the side that he now must cover up with a black magnet every night when he comes home from work because the Kravitz' complained it was against HOA policy, yet they play games with the rules they apply to others but not themselves by keeping their political declarations posted in the garage. I was more succinct and brief in my complaint to the management company, as was their response.

"It is a difficult situation."

We pay them tens of thousands of dollars for that kind of sage response.

Actually, it isn't difficult at all. If it is against the rules, then make them take the signs down. Period. Across the board. If they don't, fine 'em. Just as they would have no problem doing for a dirty roof or sidewalk. I seriously have no patience for this.

Sean doesn't either, and after a very colorful response to their response to the tool at the management company, he went to the Board Meeting which just happened to be last night. They were surprised to see him, because no resident has ever attended. After a brief presentation of his point, they agreed that perhaps a phone call and letters were warranted. Wow. They are so bold.

We shall see if this accomplishes anything but labeling our house as the crazy people who are about to get "McCain-Palin" bleached into their front lawn. But my point from the beginning has been if you're going to allow them, that's fine. Just give me equal time. I will paint a mural on the side of my house and erect political topiary from my azaleas.

Beyotch.

Vote for Me!

The Intern got his Voter Registration card in the mail today.

Welcome to a battleground state with 27 Electoral votes up for grabs. Expect to be wooed like Popeye by the Spinach Lobbyists. Like you are Catherine, and the voter phone bank is Heathcliff. (And sometimes you're Heathcliff to their Catherine.) Like the Treasury Secretary on bended knee to the Speaker of the House. Like a Trick-Or-Treater at the house with the King size Snickers. Like a gas station in Charlotte. Like you are the Olympic delegation and the candidates are members of the Bejing Chamber of Commerce. You=valid U.S. email address. Them=Nigerian Prince. Like Sonja to Simon Cowell; Cloris Leachman to judges we have no idea what their names are.

Welcome to Florida during election season.

(This was a little bit fun to think about--post some more here and I'll see if I can't dig up a prize or two for some winners.)

Fay At Bay

Okay, this town needs to seriously step away from the Doppler Radar.

Despite tales of doom and woe from every media outlet in the state: Fay was a bust. And when I say that, it is not to say that I invite natural disasters, it's just then when you shut down all business, school, hospitals, and commerce (except for Home Depot and Zephyrhills water) then make sure there is one coming.

Not only didn't we get hit, we didn't even get the feeder bands. Not a drop of rain nor a gust of wind. Mobile homes perched on windmills didn't budge. It was the biggest non-event since The Sopranos Series Finale. That one blew so much more than Fay...

And again, I don't wish it to be more destructive, I just wish someone could either accurately predict the weather, or just admit that you can't predict the weather.

I'm off to fish all of the patio furniture out of the pool now.