Back to Work

The long slumbering holiday is over. Back to work. Good.

Listen, I enjoy time off as much as the next guy, but this Christmas/New Years thing is just too much. I feel like I haven't done anything productive in a month. I've put on five pounds and my routine has been destroyed by inactivity. It's times like these when I realize that I will never be able to retire. The pressure of having to make a living, the neccesity of having to accomplish something, while troublesome at times, provides the challenge of life. Without it, boredom reins. Although I certainly wouldn't mind being rich, being one of the idle rich would kill me.

Speaking of the idle rich, my wife couldn't possibly have let the holiday season leave us without one last extravagant, over the top event. Last night's Downton Abbey season five premier saw Pam in the kitchen from 2 o'clock in the afternoon until showtime preparing an English tea party extravaganza. As is our tradition, the Fort's came over to watch the show, so there she was doing her very best Ina Garten impression. Our fine china made an appearance. There were place cards identifying the various delectables; cucumber sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, scones with homemade whipped cream and blackberry jam. On another counter was the tea pot wrapped in a towel, just like Leigh Ann taught her, with delicate cups from the china cabinet. Of course the milk had to be poured into the cups before the tea, lest bruising should take place. Everybody knows that, right? Naturally, Lizzy had seconds.

The show didn't disappoint. It seldom does. This fact continually amazes and confounds me. If you had told me five years ago that I would freely and enthusiastically sit down every Sunday night to watch a television show about an insanely rich family of British monarchists I would have told you
that you were crazy and probably asked, " What, are they really attractive and naked?" After all, my
favorite television fare usually involves violence and suspense, Band of Brothers and Breaking Bad come to mind. But there I was last night glued to my seat, riveted by the trials and tribulations of the Crawleys and their downstairs servants.

 The Mother Country lives!