Tuesday, November 22, 2005, 19:19
Ferrero Rochet
I'm going to have to call the Ferrero Rochet people. Or else e-mail them.
I mean, really. What's the big idea? Advertising candy for Christmas with a doorbell in the television advertisement? Or rather -- starting the advertisement with a doorbell? Things are lively enough around here already without a doorbell for crying out loud.
It's happened three or four times already.
There I'll be -- with the television on -- normal television sounds -- and then ding-dong!
It's the ding-dong that creates the problem.
Our Shetland Sheepdog will be lying there, sound asleep, and then ding-dong. She levitates three feet -- woof-woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!
I levitate three feet, too.
"It's just the television," I say.
"Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!" Pixie says.
"T.V!"
"Woof-woof-woof-woof!"
It happened again this morning. Just as Randy was reaching for his cup of coffee, the Ferrero Rochet commercial came on television.
"Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!" Pixie said.
Randy set his coffee cup down with a shaking hand. "Jeepers, Pixie, it's just on television!"
"Woof-woof-woof-woof!" Pixie said.
"T.V!" I said.
Five minutes later, the same commercial aired.
Ding-dong!
"Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!"
"Okay, that's it," Randy said, reaching for the remote control, "we're not watching any more television until Christmas is over!"
Fine by me.
I can just see it, though. In households across the country where Shetland Sheepdogs are in residence, the same thing occurs when the Ferrero Rochet commercial comes on television.
Ding-dong!
"Woof-woof-woof-woof!"
"Television!"
"Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!"
"I said -- it's on television!"
And then, like me, the people in the household spend the rest of the day trying to recover from the adrenalin rush.
It's a good thing I've never seen any Ferrero Rochet candy in the store. Or maybe it's too bad I haven't. Then I could have the satisfaction of not buying it. Just because.
Or better yet -- maybe I'll just make some of my own bonbons (from Christmas in Dairyland!).
LeAnn R. Ralph
Tuesday, November 22, 2005, 07:36
Wanting. . .And Needing
I went to a funeral on Monday.
Actually, I attended the funeral, then I worked in the kitchen of the church, serving food, pouring coffee, washing dishes and putting them away.
The funeral was for a man who grew up in our church. When I was a little girl in Sunday school, he was one of the "big boys." He served in Vietnam. Left on Christmas Eve 1969 and returned home Christmas Eve 1970. Then he moved away, and I didn't see him again until his father's funeral in March of this year. He remained here for the summer, until just six days before his death, staying on the farm where he grew up, exploring the fields and woods. He returned to his home in Texas early in November, with the intention of coming back here next summer.
Planning to come back next summer was a reasonable expectation, I think. He was only 54 years old.
According to his nephew, he was also a man with an affinity for animals. A man who found a calf in the woods, born late in the year, just before he left for Vietnam, a calf that was nearly frozen to death. A calf he rescued and took care of and nursed back to health, a calf he named Frosty. And on the several occasions when he was able to call home during his military service, he would ask, "How is Frosty?" The last months of his life were spent largely in the company of his nephew's dog. He loved the dog. The dog loved him. And together, they explored the farm.
Something that his nephew said in the eulogy has stuck in my mind: "he was a man who didn't need very much to get along -- and who never wanted more than he needed."
It seems to me that a lot of the trouble in the world is caused by people who want more than they need.
I am glad this man had an opportunity to come home for the summer. And on Monday, he came home one last time. To the church where he was raised. To the place where he was loved, the place where he will be dearly missed by his brother and mother and two sisters and all of those who knew him. A man who didn't need very much -- and who didn't want more than he needed.
LeAnn R. Ralph
