Antlers away, my boys

Antlers? Me? Never wear 'em. The very idea ...Two thousand eleven is winding right on down and I have so much to tell you.
Paul, my only liberal reader (that I know of), has been asking for a rant and I promise I will do one soon, but right now I just don't have time.
Company is coming for dinner tonight -- out of town company -- northern relatives, to be exact.
As in, I will be the only outlaw amongst several in-laws.
I'm good with it. Got my pirate hat on AND and I have a new Captain Jack nightlight in the kitchen, at which I sneak looks while pretending to do the dishes.
Needs must! A girl's gotta do.
Rambo: party scarf yes, antlers no.
But I gladly pause in my cooking and related preparations to tell you about a hope most dear to my heart, one which I have every reason to believe may have already come to fruition and which will remain fruited for at least the next eleven months.
And that dearly-held hope would be that for the immediate future at least, people and their dogs and their cars have stopped wearing antlers.
At least in public.
TG and Melanie: no antlers here, y'all.
What people and their animals wear in private is their own affair. Far be it from me to judge.
If any reindeer are reading, please know I don't mean you. By all means sport your antlers, year round, with my blessing.
And if any of my dear human readers wore antlers during the Christmas season -- publicly or privately -- or are even at this moment wearing a fake rack, please don't take offense.
My blog, my opinions, my dearly-held hopes, my soul laid bare.
Audrey: pretty enough without antlers.
What got her cranked up, you may be asking yourself.
As it happens, this blog post was born while I was standing on line at Dollar General a week or so ago. Erica and I were out shopping and we dropped in there for something or other.
The whole time we were in the store, a certain woman given to histrionics was there too. She was accompanied by two rambunctious girls, young teenagers by the look of them.
The reason I noticed them is that they were behaving in such a way that everyone in the store could not help but notice.
Andrew: antlers, sure ... on my wall.
You know the type: loud and boisterous, running and nearly bumping into people, hollering at one another across several aisles, and the like.
Most annoying when you're doing your level best to concentrate on getting what you came for while maintaining an attitude brimming with yuletide cheer.
As luck or fate would have it, said immature woman and her ill-behaved companions ended up in front of us in line when we went to check out.
Which wouldn't have been a problem except something was holding up the transaction and we stood behind this raucous and inconsiderate group for the better part of a quarter-hour.
Allissa: aunts galore but no antlers. Photo Erica Weber 2011. Out of sheer boredom, and because I admit to being well over it, I on purpose began inwardly criticizing taking note of what I can only assume the female customer meant as a season-specific fashion statement.
Only, have you ever heard the old saying, a miss is as good as a mile?
Yeah. She missed it by five hundred miles.
Let's start at her head, which was crowned with a set of antlers. At least eight points of felt reaching skyward.
Antlers? Don't insult me! Photo Erica Weber 2011. Next was a bilious green tee shirt. Bear in mind (this is important for you to know, especially when we make it down to her feet) that although night had fallen, it was still sixty-five degrees outside.
On her bottom half was a pair of University of South Carolina Gamecocks PE shorts. Gray. For some reason which shall remain a mystery, from the inside of the shorts on each side, going down her leg were some raspberry-colored ribbons.
The lady's choice of footwear had me in a state of sheer wonderment. She was wearing boots worthy of a standoff with Big Foot. Huge, furry mukluks reaching nearly to her knees, suitable for a trek in the frozen tundra.
And on her hands? A well-worn, pilled, faded pair of garnet-and-black acrylic gloves decorated with University of South Carolina Gamecocks.
Why would I cover this gorgeous mane with common antlers?
Yes. It was interesting. So much so, I could not stop yawning.
The very next day I was shopping in a major department store. At one counter I had a question that the lady waiting on me could not answer, so she called in the reinforcements.
Her collegue was a sizable lady of color, just bustling with authority and more than ready to assist me. And what was she wearing? Why, antlers, of course. A huge set that went with the massive red bell she'd hung around her neck.
People. I rest my case. If you have the urge to wear antlers, do us all a favor and lie down until the impulse goes away. There's a dear.
I will leave the antler-wearing to reindeer.
On the way home I passed several cars with antlers rising from the doors, flapping in the wind. Try as I might, I cannot comprehend the motivation behind dressing your automobile in felt antlers.
If somebody understands it, feel free to weigh in.
Only, don't tell me it's because the people in antler-bedecked cars or sporting a rack on their own heads, have a better sense of humor than me.
I'm gullible as the next person but I won't buy that.
Meanwhile ... Happy New Year!

