And So This Is Christmas

Hello World, Happy New Year!!! There's no question that 2018 is looming right around the corner on Monday, all bright and shiny and new, just brimming with promise for better days ahead, and as I always say, "One can only hope, amen." Speaking only for the local population, I can tell you that many of us will not be starting a fan club for 2017, and will be just as glad to see it go, I dare say. On the other hand, it's in the very final stages when it becomes "the most wonderful time of the year," so there's always the chance of redemption before all is said and done, and for some of us, 2017 might have taken advantage of that opportunity - and not to mention, jingle all the way. It all started, as these things so often do, months ago at church, when the question was raised about whether we would have 2 separate services on Sunday the 24th, which we normally wouldn't do. That is, we normally would have a morning service as usual on any Sunday of the year. But we also traditionally have a candlelight Christmas Eve service in the evening of December 24th, with special music by the choir and soloists, and a particular favorite among parishioners for generations. Christmas Eve only rarely falls on a Sunday, so this is not generally an issue, but in the end, it was decided to have both services on the same day, and when they asked for a head count, I was one of the people who assured them that I would be at both services and sing in the choir. It was at Thanksgiving in the woods when I first realized that I couldn't possibly be at my sister's cabin in the wilderness over the weekend for Christmas, and still somehow be at church twice on Sunday, all at the same time and 100 miles away. I was telling my sister that I felt bad about ditching the choir after promising I would be there for Christmas Eve, when I heard her saying completely out of the blue, "We could come down by you, instead of you coming up here." (!!!) That was certainly an unexpected solution to the dilemma, and I pounced on it with both feet, as well as tooth and nail, I don't mind saying. Taking it a step further, we decided to put everyone up at an area hotel, making it a Christmas vacation for us too, while still being close enough to get me to the church on time, as the song goes. Bill checked out the rates at the Renaissance Hotel in Harrison, and between the special weekend packages, senior discount, and other incentives, in the end it was like they were paying us to stay there. Everyone seemed to think this was a holly jolly good idea, and looking forward to something different for a change. And don't spare the reindeer, my good man! So, on Saturday morning, we picked up my sister coming up from Long Island on the bus, and met my other sister and her fellow at the diner for lunch, then headed to the hotel to check in. Our rooms were handily cheek-by-jowl, so we dropped our bags in our own rooms, then rolled all the loose chairs into the biggest room to enjoy some Christmas cheer. My sisters had thoughtfully brought their own holiday decorations and desserts, so it was soon pretty festive all around, and the hotel provided bottles of Champagne and truffles (remember those discounts and incentives I mentioned earlier) which really put the "merry and bright" into the proceedings, I can tell you that. Originally we had thought of visiting historic homes decorated for the season, or taking in other local attractions, but instead we opted for a swim in the hotel's delightful pool, whose restorative powers cannot be over-stated by any means, and I ought to know. We had already been out to eat once already, so we decided to try our luck with dinner at the hotel pub, and were pleasantly surprised with our menu choices all around. After that, it was back to our yuletide-themed get-together room, for more desserts, plenty of show-and-tell, and even a few gift exchanges to round things out. It's true there was no fireplace, tree, or stockings hung with care, but I'm pretty sure that we all turned in with visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads, and that's not just the Champagne and eggnog talking, believe me. The next morning, we took advantage of another of those discounts and incentives included with our stay, and availed ourselves of the hotel's breakfast buffet, and we did not go away empty-handed, that's for sure. The hotel is famous for its myriad cozy nooks and secluded alcoves for relaxation, but it also has a wide variety of more active options, besides the pool, such as a fitness center, year-round tennis courts outdoors in a bubble, and in fine weather, horseshoes, bocce, volleyball, and plenty of wide open spaces to explore. Sunday was nice enough for some of us to trek the hiking trail off the back of the hotel, and followed that up with a jaunt over to The Mansion on the other side, which is the landmark home of the property's original owner, now being used for weddings and corporate events. (On previous visits there with our friends, we would always take pictures with an old but decorative horse wagon that was parked in front of The Mansion, but apparently it's no longer there. I referred to its absence as a "miscarriage," but I may have been the only one to find humor in the situation.) Even with extended check-out (love those discounts and incentives!) all too soon it was time for my sisters to pack up all the holiday goodies, grab the last of the Champagne and truffles, and get ready to drive home or head for the bus station. I had plenty of time to get to church, and enjoy the Christmas Eve service which was special and wonderful as always, and very glad not to miss it after all. Even better, as our own Christmas present to ourselves, we had already arranged to stay over one more night at the hotel, so we headed back there for another dinner at the pub, knowing that Christmas morning was sure to be clean, quiet, comfortable, and entirely free of badly behaved cats disturbing us in every possible way. No fruitcake for you! So it was back to the breakfast buffet for us on Christmas morning, and once again, it did not disappoint. But there was no time to shilly-shally, because we had a train to catch, after deciding to throw caution to the wind and jump aboard the Christmas juggernaut with full force, and not by half-measures. It was more crowded on Christmas Day than I would have expected, especially with frigid temperatures at the time and brutal wind chill, but everyone seemed to be having a good time in spite of it. We traipsed along enjoying the sights from Grand Central to Rockefeller Center, and to say that the famous tree is more impressive in person, is an understatement of epic proportions, literally. Our final goal was the legendary Radio City Music Hall, and for anyone who hasn't already experienced their fabled Christmas Spectacular with the Rockettes, it certainly is everything they claim, and then some. It can be a bit overwhelming, with all of the flashing lights and amplified music, but it does have a little bit of something for everyone, and it never lags, oh by gosh, by golly. There's also a special 3-D section that, even with paper 3-D glasses, is incredible all by itself. Once you're back out in the cold again, you realize there's no place to eat anywhere near the joint, that isn't already crammed full of tourists looking for warmth and bathrooms, and you're just out of luck. So we trooped back to Grand Central, thinking we would grab a bite in the Concourse before our train home. Santa Claus had other ideas, since it was still actually Christmas, and all of the food vendors at the terminal were all closed and packed up tight, thanks not. Luckily, we were just in time to catch an earlier train, so we had a quiet dinner at home, defrosting our poor frozen fingers and toes along the way, and our happy memories to cheer us. The best part for me was being off from work on Tuesday, so it really turned out to be a lovely long weekend, with all the holiday pomp and circumstance that anyone could have asked for, with an angel on top. And not to mention, a whole line of Rockettes with jingle bells all the way! Elle

Fab Four

Hello World, HO HO HO!!! At this point, there's just barely enough room to swing a (peppermint) stick, without smacking straight into the fourth and final Sunday of Advent, and we all know what that means, by holly. (Well, with the possible exception of godless Communists and KGB agents monitoring my email, whose name is legion, heaven knows.) Hard upon the heels of Advent wrapping up on Sunday, it will be the jolly old elf himself, bright and early on Monday morning, with happiness and cheerfulness and friendliness for all, as they say. Around here, we managed to send out seasonal cards on a timely basis, but everything else has been very much behind schedule, so much so that passers-by could be forgiven for assuming ours was a domicile for more godless Communists, Buddhists, atheists, or worse. It became even more of an unwanted spectacle, when the neighbors on our north side broke out their holiday panoply in abundance, going whole hog with so many lights all across their front yard that space aliens probably wondered what all the hubbub was about, Bub. Compared to that yuletide extravaganza, our old dark and dreary premises looked even more pitiful and woebegone, as if the hypothetical godless Communists, Buddhists, and atheists had been joined by Ebenezer Scrooge and The Grinch besides, thanks not. Fortunately, Bill was soon able to carve some time out of his busy schedule to set up some very decorative lights around the porch columns, while I garnished the lions with festive wreaths, and hung up many twinkling window lights from the inside as well. It certainly was a big improvement, although I will say, without arousing any suspicions from the space aliens, which is probably just as well. In other seasonal news, I see that the Druids have come and gone (and you know who you are) and taken their long-awaited winter solstice right along with them on Thursday, marking the official start of winter throughout this hemisphere. That may not necessarily sound like a good thing, but it comes with the added advantage that forthcoming days are all getting incrementally longer as they pass, with earlier sunrises and later sunsets - and right about now, I'm thinking that more daylight is an under-estimated benefit that we can all rally around at this point. After all, there's no sense in being part of a solar system if they're going to skimp on sunlight, because let's face it, we can't just call up another provider and ask for more when we want it. [Note to future self: "New planet with 2 suns might be worth looking into."] In the meantime, we'll have to enjoy the winter holidays as they come, as a way to tide us over until spring, with plenty of that happiness and cheerfulness and friendliness for all, once again. Garcon, more eggnog, if you please! 'Tis the season, after all, so I've been listening to our friends at 106.7 FM in the car with their continuous Christmas music, and it's certainly better than listening to people argue, the way they do now on AM radio instead. ("The fact that there's no proof, only goes to show that the conspiracy is working!") But even with their focus on the holly jolly sounds of the holiday, they do still run the occasional traffic update or news stories, so that we're not all just driving aimlessly about, oblivious to the world around us, and heaven help us. Last week, the announcer read a news report claiming that sports fans whose teams lose, eat about 30% more the following day. At which point, one of the studio personalities wailed, "WE'RE DOOMED!" Upon more sober reflection, however, that might only make sense for those of us here in New York, where the hometown teams appear to have been foisted upon us as some sort of cosmic punishment, by the implacable Fates, or worse. (I admit that I'm having some difficulty laying the blame for this indignity at the hooves of the evil spirit of Affirmed, but frankly, I'm not ruling him out either.) Actually, this sounds more like a diabolical plan from the evil minions at the Snack Foods Association ("Another interception?! Let me at those Twinkies!!!") and once again, just because there's no proof, only goes to show how well the conspiracy is working. Meanwhile, our local newspaper (their motto: "Whatevs ... ") recently ran a big front-page story about safety rankings for Hudson Valley hospitals, from our friends at Leapfrog, a national watchdog organization that publicly rates patient safety and medical quality in healthcare institutions. Of the 16 hospitals listed for the region, none received an A rating, 4 received a B, there were 11 C's among the sorry remnant, and only one ignominious failure received a D, out of the entire area. Yes, health fans, it was indeed Ye Olde House o' Quacks, the Employer of Last Resort in our fair city, where I toiled slavishly for over 2 decades, in an obviously misguided attempt at making the world a better place. I seem to recall that upon publishing this report in the newspaper, there was a huge outcry from a clamoring public to bring back the Purchasing secretary and turn things around to their former glory days once again, like the proverbial phoenix rising from the even more proverbial ashes, and it would take nothing less than the superhuman skills of this Superhero Secretary to conquer the wrong-doers in the name of truth, justice, and the American way. (Leaping tall buildings in a single bound along the way, it goes without saying.) On second thought, it's possible that may have been just a hallucination on my part, and in spite of their dismal ranking, there was no wide-ranging hue and cry for a reinstatement of the Purchasing secretary, and more's the pity, I'm sure. Of course, it's only taken them 3 years since I left to sink to a D level, and at this rate, it won't take long for them to get to an F, and then we'll see if my phone doesn't start ringing when they finally come to their senses. After all, it's not like they're being run by the incompetent noodniks in charge of the local sports teams, or anything like that. Say, who let the evil spirit of Affirmed in here? Elle

Silver Screen

Hello World, And so here we find ourselves, perched precariously upon the very threshold of the 3rd Sunday in Advent already, with scarcely a week to go before Santa’s big day, with all of the candy canes, jingle bells, and holly berries that entails, and don't spare the sugar plums, my good man! Nowadays, even a brief jaunt around town offers plenty of opportunity for spotting elaborate holiday decorations on lawns and buildings, vehicles sporting antlers and reindeer noses, plus lots crammed with evergreen trees and wreaths, and enough shiny red bows to rival the voluminous amount of red tape produced by the federal government on a regular basis. (Oh, hit that easy target!) It may just be my (admittedly over-active) imagination, but it seemed that Hanukkah came early this year, so it's already pretty much out of the way - and just as well for it, I will say, or else get trampled by the ho-ho-holly and jolly jingle bell juggernaut behind it, warming the cockles of the hearts of merchants all over the world. (Or perhaps their wallets might be a more appropriate designation under the circumstances.) All of which reminds me of a recent front-page story in our local newspaper, touting the seasonal attractions to be enjoyed in the region, and inviting me to bring the whole family for a tour of the new Christmas Village in a nearby shopping center, complete with what they described as a full-size replica of Santa’s Workshop for young and old alike. Obviously they took pains to identify it as a “replica,” as if that’s a real place to start with, and not just some bogus marketing ploy dreamed up off the top of their heads. Ho-ho-hokum, is what I say, and that’s not just a bunch of fruitcake, believe me. Elsewhere on the local scene, we had already determined that last Saturday was the time to head to our neighborhood VFW and pick up our Christmas tree for this year, gracing our hearth and home with its twinkling lights and heavenly fragrance, and not to mention, making spirits bright by its very presence. In an auspicious turn of events, we arrived at the lot just as it was starting to snow, which really lent an air of holiday cheer to the whole experience, turning it into a real Currier & Ives sort of occasion, with thoughts of sleigh bells and bob-tail nags adding a Jack Frost touch to the winter wonderland. We found they had a wide selection of lovely trees, which surprised me because of recent stories about potential tree shortages, due to production problems in 2009, when the current crops of trees were originally planted. Many had quite beautiful shapes, big and little alike, and with all of them covered with snow, it looked for all the world like a magical fairyland, just waiting for elves and snowmen to pop out and complete the picture. We had no trouble picking out a tree that we liked, and while it ended up being a little bit smaller than what we usually go for, it had the all-around good shape that we need, since we put it up in the middle of our living room, and can’t hide “the bad side” away in a corner, like other people can. All of our cats now are seasoned veterans of yuletides past, so trees in the house are old hat to them at this point, exciting neither curiosity nor terror in any of them. Frankly, if it's terror I'm looking for, I really just need to launch into a few choruses of "Good King Wenceslas," and guaranteed to do the trick. I don't think anyone needs to be reminded of what a persnickety curmudgeon I am (ill-mannered snickering from our old friends the dinosaurs in The Peanut Gallery is purely superfluous to this generally accepted maxim) but it always surprises me when anyone decides to make a new recording of an older song, and then they seem to just go ahead and make up the words as they go along, without bothering to verify beforehand that they have the correct lyrics in the first place. This is especially egregious with a well-known standard ("Happy Birthday" springs immediately to mind) where everybody in the world already knows the words, so that even trifling mistakes in the new version really stand out like a sore thumb, as it were. I find this commonly happens with holiday music, only some of which is excused by those creaky old wheezers, like "O Tannenbaum" or "O Come, All Ye Faithful," which have been translated from other languages so many times over the centuries, that there is no one definitive translation that everyone agrees on. Sometimes lyrics are changed for cultural reasons ("goodwill to men" changed to "goodwill to all" for the sake of inclusivity, for example) or to eliminate outmoded terms that people don't understand anymore. But sometimes, it's none of the above, and you can't help but wonder who was asleep at the switch when they unleashed these verbal projectiles on an unsuspecting public. I think we can all spot the problem areas in Billy Idol's retelling of the classic yuletide charmer, "Silver Bells:" =================== Strings of stop lights Even star lights Blink a bright red and green As the shoppers run home with their presents See the snow brush Hear the kids laugh This is Santa's big day And above all the glitter, you hear ..... ==================== Star lights? Snow brush?? Honestly, the poor beleaguered writer of this beloved classic no doubt went to a lot of trouble making sure that the words rhymed and made sense, only to have it all turned into gibberish in one fell swoop - and I might add, without even the flimsy excuse of faulty translations to fall back on. Snow brush, indeed. Of course, you can't get this far into the Christmas season without suddenly being overwhelmed with blockbuster movies flying at you from all sides, and this year no different, I can assure you. We have a well-earned reputation for not going to see new movies as soon as they open, in a concerted effort to avoid the crowds, but even we realized that we waited way too long to go see “Thor: Ragnorak” in glorious IMAX 3-D, after it had been unceremoniously ousted by the new “Justice League of America” flick in there instead, thanks not. Unfortunately, we also waited too long to enjoy “JLA” in glorious IMAX 3-D as well, because it quickly found itself booted out of the way by the even newer “Coco,” and once again, thanks ever so much not. We finally managed to scramble out and see “Justice League” in the regular version, and it was a lot more entertaining than we had expected, all things considered. I thought the special effects were very well done, and didn't suffer from lack of 3-D or IMAX in any way, which is really saying something. We really didn't hold out much hope for it to start with – especially after the disappointment of “Wonder Woman” (and “Batman vs Superman,” which we didn't even go see) – but we were pleasantly surprised at this new offering. I thought that Wonder Woman worked well with other players in the DC multi-verse like Batman and Superman, the new Flash was adorably awkward, and even Aquaman was much less ridiculous than I would have guessed. It had an interesting story that held together for the most part (unlike the bewildering and haphazard meanderings of “Wonder Woman,” for instance) and certainly didn't lack for explosions, battle sequences, high-tech gadgets, and plenty of welcome humor along the way. (“Children, I work with children,” Wonder Woman groans at one point, in what may literally be my favorite line from a comic book movie of all time.) It actually made me look forward to whatever might be next on tap from the DC studio’s gallery of super heroes, which will certainly be here before we know it, the way things go nowadays. Heck, with enough notice, we might even get out there and see it while it's still at the IMAX in glorious 3-D, and that’s not just a lot of kryptonite, by golly. This is normally where I would be saying something to the effect that we finally became the last people in the entire galaxy to go see the new Thor movie – but for a dinner-time show on a Wednesday, I admit that I was surprised at how many people were right in there with us, especially more than a month after its release. It got great reviews, which is not always a guaranteed result in the Marvel Studios multi-verse, and being a big fan of Thor, his diabolical brother Loki, and The Incredible Hulk, I had high hopes for it. As an added bonus, we found yet another Marvel character, Dr. Strange, making a surprise cameo, more or less out of the blue. They also tossed in a motley assortment of other new characters, killed off a bunch of older ones, and wound up with a sort of half-baked mish-mash that didn't necessarily hold together as well as might have been intended. It did have excellent special effects, and certainly kept careening along without let-up, so that nobody was going to fall asleep in the middle, that's for sure. But it seemed to be trying to strike a balance between a screwball buddy movie, and a nihilistic Greek tragedy, and missing the mark on both ends of the spectrum. I found it too bloody and depressing overall to be really funny, while at the same time, way too goofy to take seriously on any level. Of course, Thor has already had 3 of his own films, as well as 3 with the Avengers, and it presents quite a challenge to keep this material fresh enough to appeal to new audiences and old fans alike, I'm sure. Maybe that's the reasoning behind singers making up new lyrics to old songs, after all. As for me, I see that the star lights are blinking a bright red and green, so I'm going to grab my snow brush and silver bells, and run home with my presents, or my name isn't - Good King Wenceslas

Post Haste

Hello World, Happy Hanukkah! The Festival of Lights will be upon us on Tuesday, bringing its own special joys of the season, and not to mention, plenty of rugelach and hamentashen besides, I shouldn't wonder. It's also true that Advent started last Sunday, almost a whole week later this year because Christmas is on a Monday. Speaking of things that are late, I found myself coming home from work this week behind a large truck from appliance giant P.C. Richard & Sons, which was emblazoned all over with the announcement that they are still going strong in their 105th year in business. For me, this begs the question of what exactly were they selling to the likes of John Q. Public way back in 1912 anyway - wood burning stoves? Horse-drawn lawnmowers?? Steam-powered toasters??? The mind reels. And speaking of other traffic-related matters that make us wonder in transit, everyone may or may not be aware that our friends at Nissan manufacture a broad range of SUV's to suit a variety of lifestyles and budgets, such as their popular Rogue. I personally know that they make this vehicle, because I often find myself behind them on the highways and byways, and it has its name clearly on the back for all the world to see, even me. But yesterday, I was stopped at a traffic light in back of one, and even though it was obviously a Nissan, the chrome lettering on the back very plainly identified itself as "Rouge" instead of "Rogue," for some reason. I realize that many people think that I don't see very well (with the ill-mannered snickering from our old friends the dinosaurs in The Peanut Gallery only adding insult to injury, I dare say) but at that distance, and the size of the lettering, even I could see it plain as day. Perhaps even a red-letter day, at that. Meanwhile, the AOL Welcome screen may have startled alert readers with this arresting tidbit last week: ============================== Princess Charlotte sparks furry at private tennis club The 2 year old princess' presence at an exclusive club has left members upset for one major reason ============================== Well, everyone knows by now what I always say about modern technology being a double-edged sword, and in a case like that, the spell-checker is going to be of no help at all, if you pick the wrong word (furry) in place of the right word (fury) but even though it's the wrong word, it's still spelled right. Later, I received an email from a colleague that concluded with this curious advisory: [ ... lick here for the accessible version ] Gee, I sure hope not! I realize that touch screens are all the rage now, but I can promise you that the day hasn't dawned when I am going to lick any of my devices for any reason (including covered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream, and that's saying something, believe me) and I am unanimous in that, by golly. It might have been later on that same day when I noticed a football game in the TV listings with a match-up between Dallas and Washington DC coming to us direct from AT&T Stadium, deep in the heart of Texas, where the stars at night are big and bright, pard'ner. [Please insert jingling spurs and warbling harmonica music here.] In any event, it made me wonder if anyone else might find it funny to consider all of these young men outside playing cowboys and Indians, which was a common enough activity way back in the old days, among those of us "of a certain age." What's next - kick the can? Stickball?? Ringolevio??? The mind continues to reel. Elsewhere out in the wide world, there has been a new and unwelcome development on the sidewalks, which may come as an unpleasant surprise to unwary postal patrons nowadays. Apparently the Post Office, in its infinite wisdom (actually, the phrase "idle hands are the devil's plaything" springs immediately to mind) has eliminated the handy pull-down flap on area mail boxes, and replaced it with nothing more than a narrow slot that is just wide enough to slip one slender envelope through it at a time, thanks not. I can't help but think that this would get old really quickly, and turn into a big fat nuisance for beleaguered folks tasked with the chore of mailing out a voluminous amount of holiday cards to their nearest and dearest - or even worse, hundreds of wedding invitations, God forbid. In fact, even at the Post Office itself, they've removed the handy boxes out by the curb with the extended chute out the back, so that you can no longer conveniently slide all of your mail right down the chute from the comfort of your car, without having to get out and walk around to the front, and once again, thanks so very much not. I'm sure that this is what they call progress, and I say, the heck with it. It's no wonder they came up with the expression "going postal" in the first place, and I've got half a mind to jump on my post horse and take the post road to complain to the post master general, and at a post trot besides. On the other hand, as much as I would love to just stay here and blather on and on, I see they're getting together a game of hopscotch outside, and my potsy is still in the wash, so I'd better hop, skip, and jump right on out of here, if you know what I mean. Elle

Mistletoe and Holly

Hello World, Happy December! (Believe it or not, as Ripley's would say.) Alas, the ignoble realization that we have indeed reached the final month of the year, which if you're anything like some of us (who shall remain nameless, but look suspiciously like yours truly) started out optimistically in January, full of promise and grand expectations of all that could be accomplished - and now here we are, well beyond the eleventh hour, and nothing to show for it, I can tell you that. Where does the time go, I simply have no idea, honestly. It's like I fell asleep on Groundhog Day, and just now woke up from a hideous dream, and wondering where it all went wrong. Every year, I promise myself resolutely, "Next year is going to be different," but when all is said and done, it winds up being exactly the same as always, and I don't mind saying, all of the ill-mannered snickering from our old friends the dinosaurs in The Peanut Gallery, has done nothing to stem the tide. Now I'm thinking what I should do is make the official pronouncement that next year is going to be exactly the same, and see if that has the opposite and desired effect, or if all heck breaks loose instead. Oh well, if it's all going to go to blazes anyway, I suppose we may as well just climb into the hand-basket right now and get it over with - and not to mention, devil take the hind-most, and I ought to know. These days on the local scene, it's amazing how the weather continues to be so unpredictable now, with wild swings from high to low temperatures from one day to the next, and often, all on the same day, thanks not. Recently it went from being around 80 degrees the previous week, to 20 degrees practically overnight, much to the chagrin of garden stiff with frost, woefully misguided houseflies, and disgruntled birds out in their earmuffs and long johns. It was one of those frigid days that I was coming home from church, all bundled up in the car, and heading straight for me was the ice cream truck, of all things, with its signature Mr. Softee music blaring for all the world to hear, like this was the balmiest beach day in July. Seriously, the driver must have been delusional. Probably from the cold, I shouldn't wonder. On the other side of the coin, it was only November 14 when I was driving home from work and saw a banner hanging between two telephone poles announcing "Danny's Christmas Trees and Wreaths" at a nearby nursery, and the next day when Bill and I came back from a doctor appointment across town, we passed a parking lot where the fence had already been festooned with a welter of seasonal flashing lights for all the world to see. The Hallmark Channel has been showing nothing but Christmas movies since before Halloween, and the Christmas circulars started turning up in our newspaper so early, I don't even remember when the first one was. (As I recall, it featured special yuletide-themed swimsuits, so that should tell you something right there.) Then there's a local radio station, Lite-FM @ 106.7 on your dial, that has been playing continuous Christmas music since November 21st (you read that right) which was not even after Thanksgiving, when Tom Turkey was already cold, for Pete's sake. I've been listening to them in the car back and forth to work, getting into the holiday spirit with plenty of ho-ho-holly and jolly, and don't spare the sugarplums, my good man! It didn't take long for me to realize that they didn't play any traditional carols (such as "Silent Night" or "Joy to the World") but only popular music like "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and "Frosty the Snowman." Frankly, it doesn't take long to run right out of holiday songs at that rate, and basically just end up playing the same things over and over again for 24 hours straight. In fact, just in the time it takes me to get to work (about 40 minutes) I heard Dean Martin's version of "Let it Snow" when I first started out, and before I arrived at the garage, here was Frank Sinatra warbling the exact same song. I've been bombarded with so many and varied renditions of "Jingle Bells," "Sleigh Ride," and "Winter Wonderland," that at this point, there's a genuine possibility of me coming down with a serious case of frostbite right in the car, and once again, thanks so very much not. Of course, it was only last week that Thanksgiving burst upon the scene, and we were glad to celebrate the big day at my sister's cabin in (over the river and through) the woods, with all of the trimmings and then some. It seemed like for weeks beforehand, the media was agog with predictions of record-breaking traffic for the long holiday weekend, ostensibly due to a stronger economy and lower gas prices, or whatever. Tuesday and Wednesday by us, you couldn't take 2 steps without getting stuck in a traffic jam some place, and between the actual holiday and the usual Black Friday madness (some of which started days ahead of Friday) reports on the news were nothing short of alarming. But we left on Thursday morning, without another car in sight, and returned on Friday night the same way, so somehow that really worked out for us. When we first arrived at the cabin, it was too early to check into our hotel, so we decided instead to dig into our Thanksgiving dinner right then, and it did not disappoint, I can assure you. Our very gracious hostess plied us with overflowing platters of baked ziti, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn pudding, candied yams, stuffing, glazed carrots, and cranberry sauce, with plenty of apple cider to wash it all down with. There was no lack of college football games to keep us occupied, but a few of us also tackled some origami projects, although I can't say that the resultant paper cats or turkeys would win any prizes for being recognizable as their intended subject matter, that's for sure. At that point, we took a little bit of a detour in our day to go to our hotel, so we could check in, drop off our suitcases, and turn up the heat, which is something that we don't take chances with anymore, after learning our lesson the hard way with a few sub-zero lodging experiences when we didn't do that. (In fairness, we found the hotel room wasn't especially cold, but the stairwell up from the lobby was literally colder than being outside in the parking lot, and it took your breath away just trying to climb the stairs, all the while watching out for icicles along the way.) We were glad to get back to the warm and toasty cabin, where we pounced on a mouth-watering assortment of desserts, like coconut custard pie, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, brownies, and ice cream, and even after a big lunch, we made quite a dent in it all, believe me. Unfortunately, the holiday bus schedule was not accommodating for my sister on Long Island to join us for the occasion, so we had to soldier on without her and make the best of it. (More whipped cream for me, haha!) Later there were left-overs for dinner (YUM!) and a few late birthday presents for Bill, which was an interesting touch for Tom Turkey's usual day, but there were no complaints on that score. After a long and busy day, it was nice to get back to our hotel, where it was warm and quiet, and at least one of us didn't stay awake watching television, I can promise you that. In the morning, it was back to the cabin for some delicious French toast, cinnamon buns, melon, and left-over desserts (let me at those brownies!) whose restorative qualities cannot be over-stated by any means. We discovered, more or less by serendipitous accident, that their cable provider runs a special version of the Music Choice programming, including Sounds of the Season in a variety of different genres, such as classical, romantic, jazz, dance party, swing, country, hip hop, and more, with appropriate backdrops of Christmas trees, presents, decorations, and stockings hung by the chimney with care. Some of us were able to tear ourselves away from that long enough to take a leisurely ramble around the scenic Ashokan Reservoir, and it was a perfect day for that, no matter how you sliced it. Then it was back to the old homestead for more left-overs and dessert (YAY!) and nobody had to ask us twice to have a second helping, thank you ever so much. Suddenly it was getting dark, the way it does on this side of the winter solstice, and we knew it was time to pack up and hit the road, alas. Of course we made a pit stop at Denny's in Newburgh on the way, and I don't know which of us was happiest to see the other, I'm sure. After that, it was smooth sailing all the way home, in fine weather and without a lick of traffic, with the added benefit that the cats hadn't burned the house down in our absence, or sold it to unscrupulous speculators right out from under us. Here's hoping that everybody out there in the wide world enjoyed their Thanksgiving observance as much as we did, with all the fixings, and all the gobble gobble that anyone could hope for. Because, let's face it, otherwise all of those cranberries would have been sacrificed in vain. Elle