2:29 a.m. - 2004-12-12
A Christmas Song
I've never eaten a chestnut roasted on an open fire. Part of my brain wants me to believe that I've seen them being sold on a street, but I think that perhaps the part of my brain that keeps track of things that have actually happened has been cross-wired with the part of my brain that remembers movies I've seen, because I don't know that I have actually encountered chestnuts in little paper bags. It's a nice idea, in theory, but I don't know that I'd actually like chestnuts anyway.
Jack Frost, though, as mentioned, is definitely nipping at my nose. Fuck off, Jack. Actually, the weather has mostly improved, so maybe I shouldn’t be pissing off Jack. In fact, Jack, I’d really appreciate it if you could have a nice cold front down one floor so my fucking downstairs neighbours would SHUT UP.
The Yuletide carols are being sung by my choir. We have a series of choir concerts with the symphony next week, and the Yuletide carols, quite frankly, are getting a little tedious. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas carols. What I do not love are Christmas songs. It's a very important distinction. And given that I'm somewhat of a heathen who celebrates Christmas in a largely non-Christian way, you'd think I'd be more of a fan of the Santa-Rudolph-Frosty genre of holiday music. However. That music? IS CRAPPY! It's all lame, and fake cheery, and too often accompanied by god-awful synthesizer music. Christmas CAROLS, on the other hand, have lovely melodies and are generally sung by far more musically competent people. They have nice accompaniments and glorious, glorious descant parts that I sing my heart out in. My new choir is singing mostly the song variety, rather than the carol variety, with a few exceptions including a very uninspiring rendition of O Holy Night, one of my favourites when done well but far too easy to arrange badly. Give me Once In Royal David City over Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer any day.
The problem with such a late start to winter is it's been longer than usual since we've had to deal with sub-zero temperatures on a regular basis. As a result, the population is split into two groups. There are those who wear fifteen layers and go for the dressed up like Eskimos look. This is generally not my personal choice, since most of my daily outside activity consists of scurrying to and from my car. I tend to fall into the other group: the one that forgets that it's actually really fucking cold out there and I ought to put on a hat. Part of the problem is I don't really like my hat, and I'm having enough trouble with the ridiculously poofy hair that a hat is only going to make things worse. I have ear-warmer thingys that Jamie gave me, but I am ashamed to admit I have no idea where they are. They're probably at my parents' house somewhere, but I haven't bothered to go take a look. So mostly I've been dashing about with my coat and mini-mitts on, getting cold ears only because my hair is too poofy to protect them properly. Stupid short hair. When I had long hair, my ears hardly ever got cold.
And while I personally enjoy both turkey and mistletoe, as I have a mother who makes a tasty turkey and a fiance who is not opposed to being sneak attacked under mistletoe, I disagree on principle that EVERYBODY knows a turkey and some mistletoe helps to make the season bright. What about the vegetarians? What about the single people for whom mistletoe is only another reminder that they don't have anybody to kiss under it? I think that sweeping generalizations such as these only serve to divide us. And isn't the holiday season supposed to be about uniting mankind and all that junk? What makes the season bright is the obscene number of Christmas lights that people are putting up these days. (Jamie's house is an excellent example of this. They have four kinds of Christmas lights up on the front of their house, none of which match, most of which flash in totally unrelated patterns. I told him his house looks like the Vegas X-Mas X-Mas X-Mas! house, and he said he was kind of fond of it. We may have to have words about how we're going to be hanging our Christmas lights next year.) I like Christmas lights, especially since it's dark so early and it's kind of depressing when you're living the majority of your life in darkness. But moderation is key here, people.
The tiny tots with the creepy glowing eyes are causing me somewhat of a dilemma this year. On the one hand, I want to buy some books for Jamie's niece and nephew. But on the other hand, we're already getting something else for them. Now, my job in their life is to be the Aunt Who Buys Books. This is a position I have inherited from my mother, and don't think I haven't realised that I used to make fun of my mother for doing this exact same thing. But currently, I am torn between the More Books Are Always Good school of thought, and the I Am Already Getting Them Something Else and I Am Not Made Of Money school of thought. It's quite the dilemma.
Hey, Santa? If you're on your way with lots of toys and goodies on your sleigh? Do you think you could slide an iPod in there for me somewhere? Thanks. I promise that I won't spy on you. Even though I am a mother's child. Whatever that means. Why isn't it the father's child who's going to spy? Hmm?
And, clearly, reindeer must know how to fly. Duh. How else would they get up on the housetop, click click click?
These days, it's not such a simple phrase. Everywhere you go, people are trying to avoid it. "Happy holidays!" "Season's Greetings!" "Compliments of the Season!" "Festive Best Wishes!" "Happy Kwanukamas!" Ok, maybe I made up that last one. (It is kind of fun to say, though. Kwanukamas! Kwaaaaanuuuukaaaamaaaas!) But they aren't wrong about it being said many ways. Besides, what's with only wishing it to kids aged 1-92? Are you saying that the newborns and the 93-year-olds aren't deserving of a Merry Christmas?
And so I say, to the tiniest of babies and the elderliest of elderly, Merry Christmas! Now put down those chestnuts and go save Grandma from the reindeer.
