October 31: Snow Began Falling, White Halloween, All Hallows' Fairy Tale

...One evening, just before Christmas, snow began falling.  It covered house and barn and fields and woods...

Yes, in Charlotte's Web, snow begins falling at the normal time:  just before Christmas.  Not at the end of October, on All Hallows' Eve.  It's a white Christmas, not a white Halloween, that E. B. White describes.  It's the way the world should work.  Orange and yellow and pumpkins in October.  Snow and ice and white in December.

Of course, E. B. White didn't live in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  This morning, I woke to a snow storm.  A couple of inches had already fallen, and the wind was ripping through the trees by my house.  It was miserable, and it didn't get much better throughout the day.  Trick-or-treating was an exercise in arctic endurance.  I even saw a couple of kids dressed up as Santa Claus.  Ho, ho, holy crap it was cold.

In the U. P., complaining about the weather is a favorite past time.  There is a caveat:  only born-and-bred Yoopers are allowed to voice dissatisfaction.  A non-Yooper complaining about the snow will be the butt of jokes, subject of derision, object of complete disdain.  We live in a harsh place.  Yoopers accept that.  Thrive on it.  Everyone else...Well, they're just not crazy enough, I guess.

Once upon a time, an ice merchant named Olaf lived in the frozen kingdom of Youpee.  Nobody bought ice in Youpee because everything was already frozen.  So Olaf was dirt poor.

One All Hallows' Eve, Olaf was getting drunk at the local tavern.  He was complaining to no person in particular, "I haven't sold a block of ice in six months."

The bartender put another shot of whiskey in front of Olaf and said, "We live in Youpee.  We piss ice here.  Why don't you sell firewood instead?"

Olaf shook his head.  "That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard."

The bartender shrugged.  "Suit yourself."

Olaf got so drunk that night that he fell down on his way home and froze to death.

The next day, a heat wave that lasted seven years struck Youpee.  Ice became as precious as platinum, and all the ice merchants in the kingdom became filthy rich.

Moral of the story:  timing is everything.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

Hope the Great Pumpkin's good to you tonight

May 24: So Damn Sleepy, Fairy Tale Friday, Sleeping Marty

He didn't say anything again for quite a while.  I don't know if you've ever done it, but it's sort of hard to sit around waiting for somebody to say something when they're thinking and all.  It really is.  I kept trying not to yawn.  It wasn't that I was bored or anything--I wasn't--but I was so damn sleepy all of a sudden.

The key phrase of the Catcher passage above is "...I was so damn sleepy all of a sudden."  For some reason, I am beat today.  I was tired when I woke up, and I've been tired all day long.  It's the kind of tired where your eyes feel like they've gone ten rounds with Apollo Creed.  I could fall asleep right now.

But I'm not going to.  I owe my disciples a fairy tale.  So, we begin, as we always do...

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of YouPee, there lived a hardworking cobbler named Marty.  Now, Marty was so hardworking that, when he was finished working on shoes during the day, he moonlighted at a local apothecary shop, making magic wart remover.  You see, every summer, YouPee was plagued by thousands of toads, and all of its citizens ended up being covered with warts.  So, September through May, the local union of apothecaries worked day-and-night to produce enough Wart-Be-Gone for June, July, and August.

Marty usually only got two to three hours of sleep a night.  One morning, as he was working on a pair of Hermes high tops for Phatboy, the royal hip hop dancer, Marty fell asleep.  When he woke up a little while later, a toad was sitting on the bench next to Phatboy's left shoe.

The toad cleared its throat.  "Greetings, Sleeping Marty," it croaked.  "I am a magic toad.  You see, many years ago, I lived one kingdom over in the palace.  I am actually a princess.  But I was a wicked little girl.  I stole money from the royal treasury and blamed it on Kermit, the court jester.  My father ordered that Kermit be drowned in the castle moat.  As Kermit was being dragged away by the guards, he cursed me to life of ugliness.  He said I would never be a girl again until I could convince a true and noble man to kiss me.  You are a true and noble man, Marty.  If you kiss me now, I promise you a life of wealth and leisure.  You will never have to work another day in your life, and I will love you until my dying day."

Sleeping Marty took his hammer and smashed the toad with it.  "Damn talking toads," he said, and he went back to work on the Hermes high tops.

The moral of the story:  Don't trust toads.

And Saint Marty lived happily ever after.

Would you trust this thing?