Summit Up 5-01-11: Where we’re fighting the closet creatures
Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that really can’t put it off any longer. We’ve spent the spring balancing our checkbook, writing long, poetic and thus-far ignored letters of love and devotion to George Clooney and playing “catch that laser pointer” with our cat (for those of you who have never played this game, it is the feline version of fetch. Never gets old). Anywho, we’ve finally run out of diversions and now must face the inevitable: it’s time for spring cleaning. This is a dreaded ritual that haunts us from mid-February until we finally get it done sometime in April or May. Dreaded because we’ll have to face whatever creatures have taken up residence in our closets and garage, but necessary because we’ve learned the hard way that if we don’t face them by early June or so, said creatures will move out of their closets and try to take over the whole house. Of course, spring cleaning isn’t all bad. It’s usually how that missing hat or DVD finally makes its way back into our lives. And, of course, when the whole business is over, the place is all shiny and sparkling clean for a few days. Plus, we can usually finance at least one night out on the town with the proceeds from the garage sale we always have to have after the scrub down to get rid of all that crap we can’t believe we bought. Hmm … we may have just managed to get ourselves amped up for spring cleaning. Bring on the closet creatures!***So, as all you loyal readers will recall, we took some time yesterday to give Prince Charming, uh, we mean William some love for the impressive red smock he donned for the big day, which we felt was overlooked in all the hubbub over Kate’s dress. Well, it’s been brought to our attention that while writing about a particularly noteworthy British red coat, we failed to mention the historical significance of the garment, or the fact that a really long time ago a whole bunch o’ British red coats came marching ‘cross the pond aiming to teach our American butts a lesson about drinking tea, paying taxes and pronouncing the word tomato. Boy, did they have another thing coming.Anyway, our deepest apologies. To make up for the oversight, we have a reader who identifies himself as a patriot, veteran and retiree here to save the day. Take it away good sir: “Just a friendly reminder…we fought a war around 236 years ago to keep those red coats (NOT jackets) outta this here country of our’n. While I’m happy that the Brits are now our allies and having personally earned British jump wings waaay back in 1986 while training with One Para in Aldershot, England (by jumping out of a Wessex helicopter, 2x C-130s and 2x hot air balloons …)AND having been the lone American as part of an Afghan Positive Identification Team assigned to Whiskey Company 45 Commando British Royal Marines in 2002 …AND having a lot of friends on that side of the pond … I wish you had remembered about that lil’ skirmish back when. P.S. If you do happen to get yer history forgetful mitts on one of them thar red coats, I have a British Parasmock and I might consider a trade.P.P.S. I wish the prince and princess better luck this time ’round!!”How right you are on all counts, Mr. Patriot, Veteran and Retiree. Now, before we burst into a rousing rendition of “There Are No Red Coats in America!” we must wrap things up. But not before we wish you all the very longest of Sundays and a good shot at some R&R before despicable Monday makes its return to power. We out.
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