And if I don’t stop eating buttered toast with marmalade and get out of this studio and move my behind it will be;
HAY GOING FAT from CHOW!
Which may be appropriate, seeing as it’s the Year of the Pig.
Chinese New Year, or, Asian Spring Festival is rife with superstition and activity. There are special foods to eat for good luck, prohibitions against swearing (d#$% it!) and saying the number that falls between 3 and 5 out loud, because this number, in Chinese, also sounds like the word for death.
Festivities go on for two weeks. It’s considered everybody’s birthday, but better to light 8 candles on the cake, since 8 is the number for money luck.
Cleaning everything is supposed to be done in advance (they often start one month prior) and new shoes, haircut and attitude are in order. I am woefully behind in my New Year’s cleaning, but I intend to get to that today, because I’ve got some old scripts to find and mine for material for the television show I’m developing for Floriani Productions. All auspices point to success.
And now, I’ll read to you a wish for your New Year from this ancient text sent to me by my centenarian pen-pal in Beijing.
May Cranes of Prosperity Bless You With Turds of Pure Gold
Or something like that. My Chinese is a little rusty.
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