Penultimation

Because I want to broaden my cultural horizons, I listen to a lot of NPR in the car. This, of course, enlightens me and, as a side effect, makes me talk smoother and smarmier. I get my Bach fix, my news fix, and my fix of pretention, all in one handy place. No, really. The worst part of all of it is that I love listening to NPR.

And I'm getting to a point, I swear.

A few months back, it was the last day before the last-day-of-the-year (i.e., say, September 29th). The radio announcer declared the date in a fashion something like, "Good morning. It's 9:15 on the penultimate day of September." Penultimate. Way to drop some ten-dollar words like they're common knowledge, Charles. Can't even say "Today is September 29th" like every other apple-pie-eating American in these here United States. Gotta show off all your danged book-learning.

Well, here we are, at the penultimate day of December. Oddly enough, I didn't hear anyone on NPR declare it as such. (Perhaps it's only penultimate when it's September?) New Year's Eve is upon us tomorrow, and I'm steeling myself to attend the Peach Drop downtown tomorrow night. The only other thing I watched drop as the clock struck twelve was last year's Possum Drop in Tallapoosa, GA. Yes, it's real, and the possum has a name. It's Spencer.

No, really. Why do things drop on December 31st?

I'll learn why a peach decides to do such things tomorrow night. In the meantime, I'm going to shower, snooze, and spend the last day of the year in abject peace and contentment with my husband at my side.

And then, THE GIANT PEACH. I'll be just like James, minus the enormous insects, and thank goodness for that.