Something To Sing About
Hello World,
Although it still seems early in December, this Sunday we'll be lighting the third candle on our Advent wreath, as impossible as that may be to believe, with only one more candle standing in between us and the holly jolly old elf himself on the 25th. I don't doubt that this comes as unwelcome news to many people whose holiday preparations are woefully incomplete, as mine are, although I think it's safe to say that our name is, in fact, legion. A person might wonder why it seems impossible for some of us to get ready for Christmas on time, since you can't even blame it on being a movable feast like Easter that is sometimes early and sometimes late, because Christmas has been observed on the same day pretty much around the world for centuries now, and no end in sight. But it's a common enough situation to deserve some sort of explanation, so I guess Legionnaire's Disease is just as good as any.
On Friday of last week, I had very carefully written a note in my calendar at work to put up the Christmas tree, to get the department into a festive frame of mind, and enjoy some holiday decor around the place, as our seasonal contribution to cheering up our co-workers and visitors. That would have worked too, except that I somehow neglected to consider that the tree I use at work is one of my old table-top trees from home, and before I could put it up at work, I would need to remember to bring it to the hospital with me first, which I completely forgot to do. Not to be daunted, I decided to put up the rest of the decorations around the offices, so that when I got to the tree, it would be the only thing left, and would take much less time than doing everything at once. So I hung up the garland and ornaments around the shelves and windows, and stuck paper snowmen and stockings on the file cabinets, and I even covered the cart with its yuletide tablecloth, where the tree would be placed when I finally brought it in. Of course, the most popular thing I do every year is cover the horrible "fun house" mirror in our hallway with a Santa Claus door cover, to the undying gratitude of everyone who comes to our department from far and near. They say there are no atheists in fox holes, and when it comes to covering up that horrible mirror, you can bet that everyone in our building believes in Santa Claus. I think it goes without saying that at least in this case, our name is legion.
I figured the easiest thing would be to lug the tree in with me on Sunday after church, and just set it up then and get it out of the way when the building was empty and I didn't have to run and answer the phone all the time. So I carried it in and the bag of ornaments, and it didn't take long to set it in place on the cart (I always tape the legs down to the tablecloth, so it doesn't tip if someone bumps into it) and decorate it with the ornaments and garland, plus assorted trinkets that we've amassed over the years. The hardest part is actually the angel at the top, since she doesn't technically want to stay on the tree, much less be straight, and I have to use twisty-ties to keep her in place. Since I was trying to get this finished in a hurry, so that I didn't have to spend more time there than necessary, it wasn't until I climbed down from the step-ladder and backed away from it, that I noticed what it really looked like. I don't mind saying that I've been putting up a tree at work for almost 20 years now, and if this isn't the most pathetic, crooked and lopsided tree ever, well, I just don't know what it would be. Of course, the tree is no prize to begin with, and there's a limit to what we can expect from it. But I have the feeling that I must usually try to determine its "good" side and put that in the front before taping it to the cart, rather than just setting it up any old which way and hoping for the best, which is certainly not the result that was achieved. You might say that this is a Christmas tree that only a mother could love, and as the saying goes, she could be jiving too.
The following day on Monday, Jean the bookkeeper from down the hall made a point of stopping me and saying that she hadn't even noticed the tree when I put it up on Friday. Oh no, I assured her, I came in on Sunday to put it up, it was still at home in the attic on Friday. She laughed and said that everyone she mentioned it to on Monday morning, about how she hadn't noticed it on Friday, had all insisted that it had been put up on Friday and she just hadn't paid attention to it. She felt better when I set her straight, and was not suffering from any optical delusions, although it did make us wonder what the other people had been smoking to convince themselves that they had seen the tree set up 3 days before it was there. Personally, I consider this a whole new low in mass hallucinations, even for our building, but Jean had the last laugh after all, not giving in to this phantom Friday tree school of thought.
In other seasonal news, I've been going in to church early every Sunday to rehearse for Lessons & Carols, and as we have not improved as much as might be hoped since October, we've added more rehearsals after church as well. Bill also put together a music file with the soprano part so that I could practice our big number from Vivaldi wherever there's a computer, so I've been practicing at work whenever I get the chance, and it would be safe to say that my co-workers are already tired of Laudamus Te and way ahead of time, since Lessons & Carols isn't for another week and a half. Speaking of songs that have worn out their welcome, or not, our friends at spinner.com put together the following lists, which I thought might be interesting:
THE 12 WORST CHRISTMAS SONGS:
12. Santa Baby - Madonna
11. Wonderful Christmastime - Paul McCartney
10. Christmastime - Smashing Pumpkins
9. Eight Days of Christmas - Destiny's Child
8. Santa Claus is Coming to Town - Bruce Springsteen
7. Christmas Conga - Cyndi Lauper
6. Santa's Beard - The Beach Boys
5. Merry Christmas with Love - Clay Aiken
4. Merry Christmas (I Don't Wanna Fight Tonight) - The Ramones
3. Oi to the World - No Doubt
2. Please Daddy (Don't Get Drunk This Christmas) - John Denver
1. Do They Know it's Christmas? - Band Aid
THE 12 BEST CHRISTMAS SONGS:
12. I Want an Alien for Christmas - Fountains of Wayne
11. Pretty Paper - Willie Nelson
10. Candy Cane Children - White Stripes
9. Christmas is the Time to Say I Love You - Billy Squier
8. Someday at Christmas - Stevie Wonder
7. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - U2
6. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree - Brenda Lee
5. Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto - James Brown
4. River - Joni Mitchell
3. Blue Christmas - Elvis Presley
2. Happy Xmas (War is Over) - John Lennon and Yoko Ono
1. Christmas in Hollis - RUN DMC
Now, it's true that I don't know every song on the Worst list (although any list of worsts that doesn't include that poor grandmother getting run over by a reindeer is not worthy of the name in my opinion) so they may actually be the worst songs, although I admit that I personally like both Santa Baby and Santa's Beard in spite of their criticism. But I earnestly believe that any list of the best Christmas songs has to include more than 4 songs that any normal person would know, and needs to have at least Bing Crosby and Nat "King" Cole at a minimum to be considered credible. Call me a hide-bound traditionalist (see if I care!) but RUN DMC have a long way to go before they'll be making anyone forget chestnuts roasting on an open fire and treetops glistening with sleigh bells in the snow, and that's not just a lot of fa-la-la-la-la.
Of course, nobody cares about my problems, heaven knows, but I suffer from a perhaps uncommon malady known as "hypo-peppo-jingle-crinkle-claustrophy." This obscure but debilitating condition renders its victims incapable of wrapping Christmas presents without having a candy cane or two to help the process along. Normally, this would not present a problem in any way, since candy canes are plentiful and inexpensive, and handily begin appearing in stores as early as August, for those of us who like to get a jump on their holiday wrapping. (And dare I say, our name is legion?) But as anyone who's tried this can tell you, getting into candy canes nowadays is no mean feat, and implements of destruction can be of no help to you, since the packaging not only gives you no place to cut into, but also nothing to hold onto while you're doing it. The plastic won't tear, and if you cut it with scissors, it peels into slivers that adhere to the candy cane like invisible tendrils. Usually by the time I've managed to breach the nefarious outer wrapper, the candy cane itself is broken into at least three pieces, so that it may as well just be Starlight Mints instead of a candy cane in the first place. But last week, Bill brought home a box of candy canes from the store to help with my gift wrap efforts, and they were a revelation. They were so easy to get into, just like the good old days, so that any old moron could do it, not only blind-folded, but with one hand tied behind their back to boot. To be honest, I wouldn't even have cared what they taste like, I was just so glad to be able to get into them without a fight. I have a medical condition, you know.
It was only scant months ago, although it seems like a lifetime now, that I thought this day would never dawn, and yet here it is. It was on Tuesday that I passed by the Getty station near City Hall in our fair city, and the regular was selling for $1.97/gallon. Later that day, I noticed the Citgo station in what the locals refer to as "up the west" had a price of $1.94 for regular. Bill's computer dealer said they were selling it for $1.50 in Danbury, and I said if that's the price in Connecticut, can you imagine what it must be down to in New Jersey, by golly, it must be a whole team and the dog under the wagon, as they say. (Although they probably don't say that a whole heck of a lot in New Jersey, I'm thinking.) The next time I saw it, the Citgo station had come down to $1.87, and that was only two days later on Thursday. Honestly, at this rate and the way things are going, the next government bailout is going to be for the oil companies. Merry Christmas, OPEC.
Ever since we were married in 1983, I've been putting up Christmas lights at our house, and for most of that time, we've been about the only house in our neighborhood with lights for the season. This is a small and old-fashioned enclave full of old houses, where they prefer more traditional decorations for the holiday, such as tasteful wreaths, pine garland and red velvet bows. Next to these understated adornments, our house looks like the tree at Rockefeller Center, even with just a few strings of lights inside the windows. Now for the first time since I've lived here, the big house across the street has put lights out on their balcony, which would seem mundane in any ordinary neighborhood, but here it's like a bolt out of the blue. Meanwhile, the new neighbors next to us have gone one better (or perhaps "better" is a relative term in this instance) by plopping on their front lawn one of those enormous inflatable snow globes with the carousel that spins around inside and snows on itself. Well, this is certainly a new wrinkle in the old neighborhood, and obviously no one saw this coming ahead of time, or they would have changed the by-laws to prohibit "out-sized displays of petroleum-based chemicals, including simulated precipitation and rotating objects," so that this travesty of holiday excess would never have been able to defile the soil of their Utopian homeland. I have no doubt that the hide-bound traditionalists (oh yes, our name is legion) have long since taken to walking their dogs on the other side of the neighborhood, to avoid this eyesore and affront to their sensibilities. Of course, everyone knows that I always say that you can teach an old dog new tricks, but by golly, you can't make him sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, and I ought to know, or my name isn't -
Legion
Although it still seems early in December, this Sunday we'll be lighting the third candle on our Advent wreath, as impossible as that may be to believe, with only one more candle standing in between us and the holly jolly old elf himself on the 25th. I don't doubt that this comes as unwelcome news to many people whose holiday preparations are woefully incomplete, as mine are, although I think it's safe to say that our name is, in fact, legion. A person might wonder why it seems impossible for some of us to get ready for Christmas on time, since you can't even blame it on being a movable feast like Easter that is sometimes early and sometimes late, because Christmas has been observed on the same day pretty much around the world for centuries now, and no end in sight. But it's a common enough situation to deserve some sort of explanation, so I guess Legionnaire's Disease is just as good as any.
On Friday of last week, I had very carefully written a note in my calendar at work to put up the Christmas tree, to get the department into a festive frame of mind, and enjoy some holiday decor around the place, as our seasonal contribution to cheering up our co-workers and visitors. That would have worked too, except that I somehow neglected to consider that the tree I use at work is one of my old table-top trees from home, and before I could put it up at work, I would need to remember to bring it to the hospital with me first, which I completely forgot to do. Not to be daunted, I decided to put up the rest of the decorations around the offices, so that when I got to the tree, it would be the only thing left, and would take much less time than doing everything at once. So I hung up the garland and ornaments around the shelves and windows, and stuck paper snowmen and stockings on the file cabinets, and I even covered the cart with its yuletide tablecloth, where the tree would be placed when I finally brought it in. Of course, the most popular thing I do every year is cover the horrible "fun house" mirror in our hallway with a Santa Claus door cover, to the undying gratitude of everyone who comes to our department from far and near. They say there are no atheists in fox holes, and when it comes to covering up that horrible mirror, you can bet that everyone in our building believes in Santa Claus. I think it goes without saying that at least in this case, our name is legion.
I figured the easiest thing would be to lug the tree in with me on Sunday after church, and just set it up then and get it out of the way when the building was empty and I didn't have to run and answer the phone all the time. So I carried it in and the bag of ornaments, and it didn't take long to set it in place on the cart (I always tape the legs down to the tablecloth, so it doesn't tip if someone bumps into it) and decorate it with the ornaments and garland, plus assorted trinkets that we've amassed over the years. The hardest part is actually the angel at the top, since she doesn't technically want to stay on the tree, much less be straight, and I have to use twisty-ties to keep her in place. Since I was trying to get this finished in a hurry, so that I didn't have to spend more time there than necessary, it wasn't until I climbed down from the step-ladder and backed away from it, that I noticed what it really looked like. I don't mind saying that I've been putting up a tree at work for almost 20 years now, and if this isn't the most pathetic, crooked and lopsided tree ever, well, I just don't know what it would be. Of course, the tree is no prize to begin with, and there's a limit to what we can expect from it. But I have the feeling that I must usually try to determine its "good" side and put that in the front before taping it to the cart, rather than just setting it up any old which way and hoping for the best, which is certainly not the result that was achieved. You might say that this is a Christmas tree that only a mother could love, and as the saying goes, she could be jiving too.
The following day on Monday, Jean the bookkeeper from down the hall made a point of stopping me and saying that she hadn't even noticed the tree when I put it up on Friday. Oh no, I assured her, I came in on Sunday to put it up, it was still at home in the attic on Friday. She laughed and said that everyone she mentioned it to on Monday morning, about how she hadn't noticed it on Friday, had all insisted that it had been put up on Friday and she just hadn't paid attention to it. She felt better when I set her straight, and was not suffering from any optical delusions, although it did make us wonder what the other people had been smoking to convince themselves that they had seen the tree set up 3 days before it was there. Personally, I consider this a whole new low in mass hallucinations, even for our building, but Jean had the last laugh after all, not giving in to this phantom Friday tree school of thought.
In other seasonal news, I've been going in to church early every Sunday to rehearse for Lessons & Carols, and as we have not improved as much as might be hoped since October, we've added more rehearsals after church as well. Bill also put together a music file with the soprano part so that I could practice our big number from Vivaldi wherever there's a computer, so I've been practicing at work whenever I get the chance, and it would be safe to say that my co-workers are already tired of Laudamus Te and way ahead of time, since Lessons & Carols isn't for another week and a half. Speaking of songs that have worn out their welcome, or not, our friends at spinner.com put together the following lists, which I thought might be interesting:
THE 12 WORST CHRISTMAS SONGS:
12. Santa Baby - Madonna
11. Wonderful Christmastime - Paul McCartney
10. Christmastime - Smashing Pumpkins
9. Eight Days of Christmas - Destiny's Child
8. Santa Claus is Coming to Town - Bruce Springsteen
7. Christmas Conga - Cyndi Lauper
6. Santa's Beard - The Beach Boys
5. Merry Christmas with Love - Clay Aiken
4. Merry Christmas (I Don't Wanna Fight Tonight) - The Ramones
3. Oi to the World - No Doubt
2. Please Daddy (Don't Get Drunk This Christmas) - John Denver
1. Do They Know it's Christmas? - Band Aid
THE 12 BEST CHRISTMAS SONGS:
12. I Want an Alien for Christmas - Fountains of Wayne
11. Pretty Paper - Willie Nelson
10. Candy Cane Children - White Stripes
9. Christmas is the Time to Say I Love You - Billy Squier
8. Someday at Christmas - Stevie Wonder
7. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - U2
6. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree - Brenda Lee
5. Santa Claus Go Straight to the Ghetto - James Brown
4. River - Joni Mitchell
3. Blue Christmas - Elvis Presley
2. Happy Xmas (War is Over) - John Lennon and Yoko Ono
1. Christmas in Hollis - RUN DMC
Now, it's true that I don't know every song on the Worst list (although any list of worsts that doesn't include that poor grandmother getting run over by a reindeer is not worthy of the name in my opinion) so they may actually be the worst songs, although I admit that I personally like both Santa Baby and Santa's Beard in spite of their criticism. But I earnestly believe that any list of the best Christmas songs has to include more than 4 songs that any normal person would know, and needs to have at least Bing Crosby and Nat "King" Cole at a minimum to be considered credible. Call me a hide-bound traditionalist (see if I care!) but RUN DMC have a long way to go before they'll be making anyone forget chestnuts roasting on an open fire and treetops glistening with sleigh bells in the snow, and that's not just a lot of fa-la-la-la-la.
Of course, nobody cares about my problems, heaven knows, but I suffer from a perhaps uncommon malady known as "hypo-peppo-jingle-crinkle-claustrophy." This obscure but debilitating condition renders its victims incapable of wrapping Christmas presents without having a candy cane or two to help the process along. Normally, this would not present a problem in any way, since candy canes are plentiful and inexpensive, and handily begin appearing in stores as early as August, for those of us who like to get a jump on their holiday wrapping. (And dare I say, our name is legion?) But as anyone who's tried this can tell you, getting into candy canes nowadays is no mean feat, and implements of destruction can be of no help to you, since the packaging not only gives you no place to cut into, but also nothing to hold onto while you're doing it. The plastic won't tear, and if you cut it with scissors, it peels into slivers that adhere to the candy cane like invisible tendrils. Usually by the time I've managed to breach the nefarious outer wrapper, the candy cane itself is broken into at least three pieces, so that it may as well just be Starlight Mints instead of a candy cane in the first place. But last week, Bill brought home a box of candy canes from the store to help with my gift wrap efforts, and they were a revelation. They were so easy to get into, just like the good old days, so that any old moron could do it, not only blind-folded, but with one hand tied behind their back to boot. To be honest, I wouldn't even have cared what they taste like, I was just so glad to be able to get into them without a fight. I have a medical condition, you know.
It was only scant months ago, although it seems like a lifetime now, that I thought this day would never dawn, and yet here it is. It was on Tuesday that I passed by the Getty station near City Hall in our fair city, and the regular was selling for $1.97/gallon. Later that day, I noticed the Citgo station in what the locals refer to as "up the west" had a price of $1.94 for regular. Bill's computer dealer said they were selling it for $1.50 in Danbury, and I said if that's the price in Connecticut, can you imagine what it must be down to in New Jersey, by golly, it must be a whole team and the dog under the wagon, as they say. (Although they probably don't say that a whole heck of a lot in New Jersey, I'm thinking.) The next time I saw it, the Citgo station had come down to $1.87, and that was only two days later on Thursday. Honestly, at this rate and the way things are going, the next government bailout is going to be for the oil companies. Merry Christmas, OPEC.
Ever since we were married in 1983, I've been putting up Christmas lights at our house, and for most of that time, we've been about the only house in our neighborhood with lights for the season. This is a small and old-fashioned enclave full of old houses, where they prefer more traditional decorations for the holiday, such as tasteful wreaths, pine garland and red velvet bows. Next to these understated adornments, our house looks like the tree at Rockefeller Center, even with just a few strings of lights inside the windows. Now for the first time since I've lived here, the big house across the street has put lights out on their balcony, which would seem mundane in any ordinary neighborhood, but here it's like a bolt out of the blue. Meanwhile, the new neighbors next to us have gone one better (or perhaps "better" is a relative term in this instance) by plopping on their front lawn one of those enormous inflatable snow globes with the carousel that spins around inside and snows on itself. Well, this is certainly a new wrinkle in the old neighborhood, and obviously no one saw this coming ahead of time, or they would have changed the by-laws to prohibit "out-sized displays of petroleum-based chemicals, including simulated precipitation and rotating objects," so that this travesty of holiday excess would never have been able to defile the soil of their Utopian homeland. I have no doubt that the hide-bound traditionalists (oh yes, our name is legion) have long since taken to walking their dogs on the other side of the neighborhood, to avoid this eyesore and affront to their sensibilities. Of course, everyone knows that I always say that you can teach an old dog new tricks, but by golly, you can't make him sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, and I ought to know, or my name isn't -
Legion
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 2:37 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home