REVEALING AN ELF

Regular readers of this blog (don't you have anything better to do?) will know that the Friday Funnies are a collaboration between myself and a group I've given silly names.

Of late I've been referring to them in toto as the Humor Elves.

They send me all of those cartoons, memes and wit, along with some that are deemed NSFW (Not Safe For Work) or for general propagation on this site.

But today is a special day for one of those elves, my longtime friend Wacky Wally.

I hasten to add that this was a photo taken a year or two ago when he was enjoying his retirement enough to grow a beard and I demanded a picture.

He was obviously in a wacky mood that day.

But he has thought better of it since then and returned to his more dignified public persona.

He has become a regular member of  "The Old Gang" that gathers from time to time at The Pie Place, aka the Rock Springs Cafe, where this photo was taken.

You're probably wondering why I've chosen today to reveal his identity.

It's because it's his birthday!

So join me in wishing him a wonderful time as he marks another circle around the sun.

And a bit of history.

Wally and I met each other a long time ago, when we both worked for Channel 12 television in Phoenix.

That's videographer Wally on the left and field producer me on the right, flanking reporter Ron Talley and anchorwoman Linda Alvarez.

We were on top of a rooftop in Washington, D.C. preparing for a satellite transmission back to Phoenix on the latest in the nomination hearing of the late Sandra Day O'Connor to the U.S. Supreme Court.

There's been a lot of water over the dam since those days.

But hey . . .  Happy Birthday, Wally!

And thanks for all of your help in creating a Fun Friday every week.

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Here it is . . Sunday again.

Is this my Groundhog Day week?

I'm just kidding - I know it's really Friday.

And Friday is when we and the Humor Elves here at Oddball Observations kid around a bit.

(Like we don't most of the time, right?)

So, with the oft-quoted expression "Laughter is the Best Medicine", let's go to the doctor and see what has been prescribed.

'Tis all, folks.

Even I, your loyal leader, can only laugh so much.

Especially in a week where I've been stuffing myself with food and drink.

Could be explosively dangerous.

But you are hereby granted permission to do whatever you like on this week of Sundays but please have a very good, long and safe weekend.

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

( . . HEY! Get DOWN from there! . . )

IS IT SUNDAY?

 I normally rise in the morning when darkness is still cloaking the land.

That's mainly because of Sweetie-Pie, our blasted cat.

She jumps up on my bed and purrs loudly in my ear.

"I'm hungry.  Feed me!", she demands.

And she is very persistent so I've just learned to get up and fix her bowl of food and change her water.

Sometimes I go back to bed and some more sleep.

But lately I've been retiring for the night around 8 p.m. (the time I used to head out on the town for a night of alcohol-fueled ribaldry) so by 4 the next morning, if I've had a decent night, I'm ready to rise.

So then I get a cup of coffee, weigh myself, make my bed and dress for the day.

And sit down at my computer desk, aka the International Headquarters of Oddball Observations.

This morning I stumbled across a recipe and when Judy woke (hours and hours later!!) I asked her if we had any apples.

When she answered in the affirmative I told her I was going to make breakfast for the two of us.

About an hour later I served it up.

Fresh from the oven, my take on a German Apple Pancake, aka a Dutch Baby.

Suffice it to say, it was delicious and a big hit.

As confirmed by a note on the recipe that it serves 3 to 4 but we two scavengers finished the entire thing.

If you want to make one this link should take you to the instructions.

Now there's only one problem.

We normally breakfast sparingly through the week and save the  occasional feasting for Sunday mornings.

I said to Judy as we were finishing our scarfing, this really is only Thursday but now it feels like Sunday. 

So now what am I gonna do?

ORANGE YOU GLAD?

When I was a young man growing up in cold and snowy North Dakota I learned the value of a nice warm sweatshirt.

(For you residents of the UK, think "jumper".)

Even the governor wore one on a Saturday morning run with his staff and members of the press.

(Governor Bill Guy is the tall fellow on the right in glasses.  I'm the lad in dark on the left, apparently dreaming of going back to bed.)

They were cheap.

They were rugged.

They lasted forever.

And most important of all, they were warm.

So as I have reached the senescence of my long and not-so-well-lived life and the temperature has dipped into the 50 degree range . . .

(Again for you residents of not only the UK but the entire world outside of the U.S. of A., think Fahrenheit.  Celsius puts it in the 10 degree range and now I'm really shivvering.)

. . . I went looking in the retail outlets for sweatshirts.

Lo and behold, I found one.

Bright red it is and, with it's fleecy composition, as warm as I remember from the Good Old Days.

But I only got one and while I am extremely careful in the kitchen and at the dining table (he lied) it would accumulate spots from time to time.

I dreamed of getting one or two more and today I went back to the same store and did just that.

Now, SWMBO has qualms about me shopping alone for additions to my wardrobe.

And when I came home and modeled my latest purchase, she shuddered noticeably and covered her eyes.

Now I ask you: is this too much?

She seemed to think it was a tad (or a truckload) too bright.

But I assured her it would protect me when I go out to the street to pick up the mail from our mailbox.

And frankly, I love it.

(To be honest: I got one other in a subdued dark grey.)

By the way, when I was looking for that first picture above I found one other of me in a sweatshirt, albeit a short-sleeved one worn for summer.

It shows me exhibiting my style sense at the end of our obviously exhausting weeklong migration from Indiana to Arizona in 1972.

It was just past July 4th and I was still dressed for the patriotic fervor.

A NEW BEGINNING

The Christmas Holiday is finally over, though some places are still closed today.

Perhaps to recover from hangovers?

As noted above, it feels like a new beginning to me.

I know those feelings are not supposed to set in until January First or Second but it has come early to me.

We had a very quiet Christmas Day, just the two of us here.

The indomitable SWMBO was in full battle mode in the kitchen much of the day, producing a delicious dinner of baked ham, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes and gravy, warm dinner rolls.

And she moaned because she hadn't provided a green vegetable to go with all of that food.

Lordy!

Every year after one of these feasts, she declares that will be the last holiday meal she prepares.

"It just doesn't make sense to go to all that trouble when it's just the two of us!", she says.

But then the next holiday rolls around and away she goes again.

We had a visit from the BAD and a companion on Christmas Eve in the afternoon.

Drinks and finger foods were consumed.

And then the BAD lived up to her acronym by producing these two "gifts".

Treachery!

I had warned her the last time not to ever bring another jigsaw puzzle into our house!

But had she listened?

Apparently so because as I ranted and raved at this malicious act, she just sat there and LAUGHED at me!

Two puzzles!

One of them has 500 pieces, the other ONE THOUSAND!

She's trying to drive me mad, I tell you.

Oh well, eventually I shall relent and we will get them out and solve them.

We may be even more doddering when that trial is over but we shall solve the bloody things.

So, (pant, pant), how was your Christmas?

A HOLIDAY DRINKING SONG

I tasted wassail once, in my younger days.

Wretched stuff!

CHRISTMAS DAY

 To one and to all

a very Merry Christmas!