Stand Still

Hello World, Of course, everyone knows how I hate to be an alarmist, but I feel it's only fair to point out that we're now staring down both barrels of the fourth and final Sunday in Advent, believe that or don't, and no more wiggle room before "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" for real. It's truly amazing how Advent goes flying by, especially for those procrastinators among us who are woefully unprepared for The Big Day - and I won't mention any names, but it goes without saying that you know who you are. On the other hand, it must be said that our Jewish brethren have it even worse, since Hanukkah has not only already started on the 16th, but unlike Christmas, this Festival of Lights is also a rather slippery character which tends to move around from one end of the month to the other, so you don't even know where it's likely to show up from one year to the next, thanks not. At least Christmas, for all its faults, stands still in one place all the time, and doesn't prance about like some wanton fugitive one step ahead of the long arm of the law, and that's not just the sugar plums talking, believe me. Alert readers may be wondering, and well may they wonder indeed, if we're already at the last Sunday in Advent, whatever happened with Lessons & Carols at church - or as we call it at our house, the highlight of the church year. Well, wonder no more, because it showed up right on schedule last week, to the delight of its adoring fans, although that might be something of an exaggeration on my part. However, its small but loyal audience seemed to enjoy themselves, and the whole thing went off pretty much without a hitch, with the exception of the occasional hiccup or two along the way. Now, it's certainly true that things can always be worse, heaven knows, and that could have easily been the case this time around, after the somewhat questionable decision to squeeze the choir on the chancel steps, wedged in between the pulpit on one side, and the phalanx of stampeding poinsettias on the other, and it's a wonder that we didn't all just tumble over into a heap on the floor of the sanctuary, like a bunch of bowling pins. (I have no independent corroboration of this supposition, but it must be said that the possibility of Divine Intervention cannot be ruled out.) Luckily, disaster was narrowly averted, and we made it through the program from one end to the other, in one piece and without incident, and I can safely report that a good time was had by all. And now that we no longer massacre "For Unto Us a Child is Born," we have nothing to fear from the poor aggrieved spirit of the late and lamented George Frideric Handel coming back to haunt us. Although on the subject of unquiet spirits, everyone realizes by now that I know better than to turn my back on Affirmed, that's for sure. As much as I love Lessons & Carols (and it has no bigger fan, believe me) it does tend to make things a little more complicated than they otherwise would have been, and especially during a busy time of year as it is, when it doesn't take much for the wheels to come off completely. For the most part, our Christmas decorations went by the wayside, and it was only a miracle that Christmas cards actually got to the Post Office before Easter. (See note above concerning Divine Intervention.) The wreath went up on the front door, and the porch lions were also decked out in their yuletide adornments, but so far the only sparkling lights aglow are in the kitchen windows in the back of the house, which I'm frankly embarrassed to admit, stay up all year because they're too much trouble to take down. Another victim of the seasonal overload was lighting the Advent wreath at home, which we normally do before Sunday dinner, just like ordinary people out in the real world. All too often, this turns into a new and possibly unwelcome innovation that we call "Advent Monday" or even "Advent Tuesday" instead, and last week, we got all the way to "Advent Wednesday" before the candles actually got lit. This may just be delusional on my part, but here I'm thinking that anyone who invents a timer that automatically lights your wreath when it's supposed to, is going to have a big hit on their hands. In other seasonal news, we took advantage of the very fine weather last Saturday to pick up our Christmas tree at the local VFW Post as we do every year. Considering the pleasant conditions in the middle of the day, it certainly wasn't as crowded with holiday shoppers as we would have expected - in fact, we've been there often in rain, snow, and bitter cold, and still found ourselves fighting off surging mobs on their relentless hunt for O Tannenbaum perfection, as well as battling the elements on top of it all, thanks not. Our evergreen of choice was not the most colossal one on the lot, but it was perfect in its own way, as it fit precisely in its stand with the angel perched at the top just grazing the ceiling, and a very nice shape all around. The cats regarded it with their usual indifference, although the one cat who wasn't with us last Christmas (Charcoal) has yet to see it, and his reaction to it might be a little more interesting, I dare say. Of course, there's such a thing as having TOO much interest in the tree, which has happened to us before, with extremely deleterious results for the living room as a whole, and the poor beleaguered tree in particular - so I'm guessing O Tannenbaum would greatly prefer a lack of interest from the cats, than otherwise. And speaking of interesting things, I recently had occasion to try something different in the Dairy aisle, which was Siggi's Yogurt, and which they took great pains to inform me, is in the Icelandic style of skyr, much different than common American yogurt, or even the new fad of Greek yogurt. What I noticed about it first was that it had the consistency of spackle, unlike your usual yogurt, which is more like pudding. I don't even want to think about how good this stuff must be for you, because they never mention the taste, but they make sure I know it's full of live culture bacteria and made with no fat, no sugar, no preservatives, and using milk products from free-range cows unadulterated with bovine growth hormones. In addition, they're obviously environmentally friendly as well, and even the label has a perforated peel so you can zip it right off to recycle the plastic container and paper label separately. They certainly don't want you to use a plastic spoon, heaven forbid, I can tell you that - in fact, it should come with a warning to use only metal utensils, as I discovered, because if you put a plastic spoon in there, you can easily snap that thing right off when you try to stir it. Now, it's been known to happen that I've been wrong before (as the derisive howls of laughter from our old friends the dinosaurs in The Peanut Gallery will surely attest) but I can't help but think that like Advent Wednesday, this is an idea whose time has not yet come, and in fact, may never come, I wouldn't be surprised. Say, I'm beginning to wonder if this isn't the revenge of George Frideric Handel after all. Elle