JUST A GAL FROM GLIDDEN: A December that feels a little Looney

By Kate Winquist

I had a column all ready for this week, but it was a little too negative and opinionated for my taste. After all, this should be a happy, joyous time of year, right? Unfortunately, for many individuals and families, Christmas can feel more like a high-speed chase than a holiday celebration. The stress of finding the perfect gift—or any gift at all—and making sure there’s enough food on the table and heat in the house can make even the calmest person feel like they’ve been spun through a tornado. If you can, consider donating to your local food bank or toy drive—help make Christmas a little brighter for those in need.

Lately, my life seems like an episode of Looney Tunes. Picture me spinning around like the Tasmanian Devil. Remember when Saturday mornings were reserved for Bugs Bunny and the gang—Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd, Sylvester and Tweety, and of course, Porky Pig. There were also the unforgettable oddballs—Marvin the Martian, asking “Where’s the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth-shattering kaboom,” or Michigan J Frog with his “Hello my baby, hello my honey…” before returning to a very ordinary frog chorus.

Wile E. Coyote and his Acme gadgets never seemed to catch a break—and politically incorrect by today’s standards - but it was more than enough entertainment for Dad and I. I still remember my Bugs Bunny toy with the pull-string phrases: “What a maroon!” “Ain’t I a stinker?” and of course, “What’s up, Doc?”

This week, the weather has had our heads spinning, too. Every Tuesday is paper delivery day. Robert heads north and west, I head east. Thankfully, our studded winter tires have kept us on the road. There was a freezing rain warning, but it miraculously skipped our route. Then the temperature dropped, and—wouldn’t you know it—the office furnace quit. That gave me the perfect excuse to skip my SWNA Zoom meeting (budget talk avoidance: accomplished!).

Joan and I have been running our usual routine, adding Christmas greetings on top, like Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog. We clock in, exchange a cheerful “Mornin’ Ralph,” “Mornin’ Sam,” then get down to business, like a couple of well-mannered cartoon characters trying not to chase each other across the pasture.

I admit I’m struggling with the Christmas spirit this year. It’s already December 13, and I haven’t put up a single decoration. Shopping? Nada. Though Robert, in true Yosemite Sam style with his impressive moustache, bought himself a new snowblower yesterday—“Give me YOUR debit card,” he says. Our old snowblower, inherited from his dad, was practically a fossil—gears shot, safety features nonexistent. It seemed like the perfect gift for our son Kalen and his new place: a third-generation snowblower! Meanwhile, Robert’s shiny new acquisition hopefully guarantees an early spring. I guess that’s two names checked off my list!

Then there’s the Christmas menu planning. Earlier this fall, my doctor warned me my blood sugar was high. Not diabetes—yet—but I need to shape up. So for the past couple of months, I’ve been avoiding ice cream and pizza (apologies, local Dairy Queen), living instead on a diet of salad and veggies. I’m starting to mumble “Eh, what’s up, Doc?” with every carrot I chew. Meanwhile, Robert, and his sweet tooth, is fully supportive—even if I feel like a cross between a slightly despicable Daffy Duck and a portly Porky Pig. I’ll likely make his favourite salad and grab some Pot ‘O Gold chocolates, keeping the peace in our own little Merry Melodies cartoon.

So, until next time, this is your gal from Glidden signing off: “Th-th-th-that's all, folks!”