More inflatables

Freaking things are everywhere, I tell you...

The awesome picture was found on Flickr, and kudos to the photographer, Michael Sharps, who graciously shares his photos over on the Flickr stream.

Attack of the Inflatables

It’s starting to be a whole lot more festive around here these days. I’m not just talking about the house, either. I admit we did bare bones decorations, because there’s a mighty big trip coming up for us all right after Christmas, but the rest of the neighborhood has kicked into gear, too.

I think it’s that the weather finally cooled off from the mid-80’s back to where it’s supposed to be. I’m not sure I can handle the consistency of five times in a row where I don’t have to stick my hand on the window to see if it’s hot enough outside to wear shorts when I get dressed each day. But still, the cool slash cold slash freezing my butt off temperatures do add a nice feel to the holidays.

As I’m tooling around in the jeep after sunset, I see all these fun, cheerful decorations. There are lights twinkling in trees, hanging from roofs in that ooooh-so-realistic icicle stream, and pandering shamelessly to the little kid in all of us with huge ropes across the roof. Some go the extra mile and beg Santa to stop at their house, with candy-cane swags lining the sidewalks, mirrored in street after street over in Stepfordville. Of course that’s the same place where block captains have strategic meetings about decorations in January, gearing up for the next year, and the welcome wagon greets new residents with a lighting diagram and neighborhood bylaws which say they must comply, so I’m not sure that’s so cool after all.

But still, decorations are cool at night.

…During the day though, I see all these sad blobs lying on the ground, like melted Frosty Snowmen all over the place. They ooze across the winter grass in shades of white and red and green, with touches of blacks and blues for good measure. Cords snake from them leading to the driveways and front stoops like evil, alien tentacles. Somehow, Christmas has become corrupted by inflatable yard “art.”

I don’t get it, either. I really wish all the inflatable stuff like that had stayed in the price range where only party rental companies and used car dealerships could afford it. Then I wouldn’t be treated to the horrible spectacle of rip-stop nylon gone bad. And it is bad, too, what with the tiny little blower motors spinning Santa, Rudolph, Frosty and some unnamed Elf around on a carousel nightly, while they are lit up from inside. No one needs to see Santa’s guts, people.

Now I love me some tiny white lights. I love the colored ones, too, don’t get me wrong. But it’s the overdone accompaniment that has me a bit “what the hell?” about some of the decorations. The concept of some fresh pine boughs and candles has been bastardized to the Nth degree with the addition of inflatables. I’m almost afraid of what they’ll come up with next year.

I really think that the inflata-manger really says it all, though. Don’t you?

I was out and about yesterday running errands. I do that a lot. It seems that even when I’m supposed to be doing a whole bunch of nothing, bored off my butt, that I’m always going at least fifty miles an hour. Meanwhile some people I know are all “I only had time to watch one movie and take a two hour nap today.” Bite me. Because seriously, that isn’t right unless you’re in college.

Anyway, as I was out running errands, I realized we have now passed into the holiday danger zone. It’s close to Christmas. People are getting spastic. Kids are about to go on vacation, some of ‘em starting this afternoon, so they’re rushing to get the Santa shopping done without the little monsters in tow. And they are completely not focused on driving. At all. Add a construction zone into the mix and I’m lucky the jeep and I came away unscathed.

There is just something about this time of year though, that gives people license to be complete idiots on the road. The same thing happens around the time changes each year, too. But you don’t see much of this problem near Independence Day or Halloween. Even with the fireworks and candy, those aren’t such chaotic events, I guess.

So having several errands to run, combined with some wicked bad tummy pains, I was in the jeep braving the elements. See, down here in Texas, we don’t really get snow or ice, so our elements are “traffic” and water. It’s the wrong time of year for a flood – not saying it couldn’t happen, just that it’s the wrong time of year. So all I’ve got left to bear is the possibility of vehicular drama.

When I was turning left into the bank, just this side of a traffic light working in my favor, some idiot comes around the corner and absolutely floors it. He could see me midway across the three lanes and I guess he decided I looked like a nice shiny target because I could hear the rev of his engine. Maybe he was hopped up on candy cane lattes from Starbucks. Or he’d overdosed on rolled and iced sugar cookies. But for some reason, he punched it, so I had to hit it faster than I wanted, and entered the bank parking lot with a bit of an airborne screech when the tires finally came back to the ground.

I don’t even want to go into the fa-la-la-la-lahhhhooooohhhh-sh*ts of getting home from the hardware store with an overly large plank of wood hogging the back seat of the jeep. Needless to say, I wasn’t singing any carols, and people were giving me the hairy eyeball even as I stayed in my lane. It seems they wanted to be where I was, no matter where I was. It was like that in the store, too, which is insane, because hellooooooooo? Home Depot doesn’t exactly have small aisles, so you really don’t have to be in the exact spot where I am standing this instant. It’s not like I’m looting the store. I promise that I won’t clean the place out of finishing nails before you can get what you need. I won’t take the last thirty dozen eggs at the grocery store, either.

People, relax. It’s Christmas. Be merry and bright.