Happy Monday, my dears.
I would be remiss not to remind you all that signups for the Commie Pinko Writing Contest are still open. We’re about halfway full on fiction, so if you’re thinking about being a fictionaut with us, now’s the time to get in while the getting’s good. There are scads of nonfic spaces still open, as well, so perhaps you’ll be brave and join us for that.
Yesterday we went to the Mayor’s Christmas Parade, which winds right through my neighborhood, Hampden. I failed, stupidly, to take my own camera, but my Belovedary managed to snap a few pictures at my request, and I share some of them with you here.
First, the float that made me gasp open-mouthed:

Why yes, that is indeed a giant wooden cross on top of which the holy family is perched, with angels above them waving to the crowd. Had I been in charge of giving these things names, I would’ve called it “Manger Danger,” because that thing has a serious slope on it and had the blessed infant — who was made of plastic in this instance, mind — taken a tumble, the Lamb of God would’ve been gyros meat in a nanosecond under the tires of whatever lurks beneath that old rugged crossy shell. I must not have been the only one who half hoped for some excitement of that sort, but none transpired.
Best of all this float had brass-looking placards on both ends, like bumper stickers. The one on the back said “Jesus is coming, be prepared!” and I was not the only one who mentioned wanting to alter it to end with “…look busy!”
The divine lovelies at Ma Petite Shoe pulled out all the stops per usual, and their Mrs. Claus was sort of a Marie Antoinette Claus, with a giant headpiece wig that incorporated a fully functional fishbowl-sized snow globe.

Among the other highlights, of which I have no particularly good pictures, were the well-costumed members of the Maryland chapter of the 501st Legion — Star Wars cosplayers, with an imposing Darth Vader in a Santa hat — and some delightful New Orleans-style mummers, whose presence in a Christmas parade somehow worked better than it should’ve.
There were also furries. Including a blue plush-suited dragon with bondage straps on his tail, which we all thought slightly the wrong kind of festive, somehow. I’m not sure how it works that furries end up in the Christmas parade, but welcome to Baltimore, how’d you like the show?
Later on that evening there was a nice pot of chicken and dumplings, thanks to my having scored a couple of fantastic, flavorful, lives-well-lived stewing hens at the farmer’s market. You can take the girl out of the Midwest, as I am occasionally wont to note, but you cannot take the Midwest out of the girl.

And no, before you ask, there is not a recipe. It’s chicken and dumplings. You just put things in until it looks right. Including lots of onion and parsnip, because chicken and dumplings tastes best with plenty of onion and parsnip.