Three-Thing Thursday

Welcome to Three-Thing Thursday where Chesapeake Bay Woman shares three things all of which reveal an utter and complete denial that a week from today is Christmas, and you share three things--whatever you want, anything at all. Just please don't remind me of the mere week remaining to do anything for Christmas.

Let's begin.

1. Today in a staff meeting, a person used the phrase "reach out to" a total of 18 times, and this is the number I counted only after realizing how often it was being used. For example the person might say, "Here is a problem, and I'd like you to reach out to Jane Doe to solve it." Or "I reached out to John Doe but he was no help at all." Just play along if Merriam Webster or Wikipedia has officially pronounced "reach out to" the preferred substitute for "contact" or "get in touch with," or "call." I didn't get the memo, and if I did I threw it away.

2a. Saturday's Christmas Parade here in Mathews was great even if I seemed to be more excited about it than my own children--and Baby Sister. Several pictures were taken, however Chesapeake Bay Woman doesn't (a) take pictures of moving things that (b)are lit up at night and (c) when her batteries die on her she views it as a sign that pictures of this exciting event were just not meant to be.

2b. The picture above gives the illusion that trespassing may have been involved. For the more realistic view that doesn't involve trespassing a zoom lens, turn down the American Legion Hall lane right before sunset and instead of looking at the Hall on your left, take a gander to the right. And use your zoom lens while standing in the comfort of a perfectly legal spot known as the state road.

3. My office went to a tavern in Colonial Williamsburg for a Christmas lunch, and it was a lot of fun because I don't get out much. We sat down in a dungeon of a bricked basement lit solely by candlelight. It took a good 10 minutes for your eyes to adjust, that's how dark it was. As the hostess led us this way and that, down one set of stairs and through a maze of rooms, one of my co-workers said, "They're taking us to the Catacomb Seating Section!!" and I laughed. Very loudly. Probably a little too loud for the already-seated, somber diners whose eyes were rolling back in their heads still adjusting to the darkness of the basement in a centuries' old dining establishment.

Now it's your turn. Please share three--or more--things that you feel like getting off your chest. Or off your shoulders. Or off the top of your head even. Whatever you want, anything at all.