I can't take credit for constructing this one... or even thinking it up for that matter. A Tuesday night cocktail party materialized as carolers were circulating the neighborhood, and this clever wee wine bag was given to the hostess (my wife) by a friend. On said friend's other arm was a bag of home-grown satsumas from her parent's property in California, and were better than the Whole Foods variety.
As fireplace season started up again, the chimneys were swept in preparation for the annual delivery of split hardwoods next week. Speaking of chimney sweeps, Mrs. bought the DVD of Mary Poppins and had a movie night (late day) with several young ones over the weekend. The scenes are lovely and timeless, and among the many, these shots caught my drowsy eyes:
Notice the triple frog-closures.
When the actual chimney sweep arrived on Monday, the disappointment to my child was instantly visible and borderline heartbreaking. The sweep arrived by van and not by nimbly-pranced rooftop. He looked nothing like Dick Van Dyke and worse yet, he didn't sing, dance, or actually get inside the chimney.
"Ev'ry thing looks good here" he said as the small extended fiber-optic camera scanned the interior of the stack. Jr. sat patiently and waited for a wink, a Cockney colloquialism, or some aerial acrobatics. Instead the sweep's loud shop-vacuum just hummed away as he watched the monitor. "All set, buddy. See you in two years" said the surprisingly clean sweep, and he packed his extending brushes and left. I explained that life is nothing like movies, and that very often things are not what one expects. It was either that or ask my wife to hold an opened umbrella and jump off the roof.
